Disclaimer: I don't own the copyrights to Claymore and its characters.
Notes: I had the idea for this Clare story saved up in a deep corner of my mind about a year and a half ago. During that time, I was avidly following the Claymore manga, but I couldn't put this story together in the form I initially had in mind, which was supposed to be longer and much broader than this. Flash-forward to the time I began writing this, my interest in Claymore has waned, but I suddenly had the urge to try making a short story, and I thought that the Clare story I had previously conceived was suitable for one, so I stripped the concept down and tried to make it as simple as I could and there you have it.
Written under Clare's perspective. I tried to make my choice of words a little more archaic to match Claymore's setting, but not too knightly. Also, I wasn't sure what genre this belongs to, so I put it under "crime", as it seemed the closest to it. Thank you for reading.
I've forgotten how long it has been since I deserted the organization. Months... Years... It hardly matters. Not when I'm only biding my time, along with comrades who were left for dead in the battle for the North... Waiting for the day we finally rise from our graves and descend to the surface... Waiting for the day we once again take up our swords and finally slash away the tethers of corruption the organization has bounded this land with... The same organization that spawned beings like us, neither truly human nor Yoma, to ensure that their false order is exercised.
But before we could begin our campaign, we must first complete the necessary preparations. I was tasked to procure information about what has gone on in the neighbouring countries the past seven years from a source that, according to Miria, has been working with her for a long time, in a mining town northwest the holy city of Rabona. I remember having visited this town before, but I might as well be mistaking it for another. Towns like this barely differ from each other. Brisk with people interacting and immersing in their respective livelihood, innocent of the truths happening behind the curtains that somehow manipulate their lives, oblivious of the war that will soon befall this land. That aside, it feels nice to be away from the unsympathetic icy mountains of Pieta and bask under the sun's grace once more. The last time I felt such warmth, I was with Jean, a valiant warrior who, at the time, shared my vague notion that we were heading towards our own frozen graves up north, in a skirmish we had no chance of winning. Unfortunately, the sun never shined on her again.
I arrived town in the morning, under the guise of a cloaked drifter. My task is to retrieve the notes from the town's post office at the main square, where Miria's accomplice works. I have no intention of prolonging my stay and plan to leave on the same day, so I walked continuously to my destination, letting the sights and the sounds flutter away with the wind and be forgotten like most of its kin.
Crossing the marketplace on my way to the main square, a young boy rushes frantically towards me and bumps directly to my thigh, losing his balance. He carried a bag of bread that was toppled over during the collision. I crouched down and with my right hand I help him up and brush some dirt off his clothes. The boy was just about the same age as Raki when I first met him, and suddenly I was reminded of the promise we made. I wonder how Raki is now. I know he's still alive, somewhere, and I could only hope he's in good hands and that he stays well until I find him.
As I was tending to him, the boy broke off me to collect the food that fell down, saving them from getting stepped on incidentally by apathetic shoppers. From the amount he carried, he must have at least three younger siblings waiting for him to return. To further my gesture, I decided to lend him a hand. Not a lot of people minded us while we gathered the bread. It was a typical incident at the marketplace, one bumping into another and eventually deciding to helping each other up, but I sensed prying eyes shot directly at us ours unraveled. Particularly, I sensed the intent stares of a bread merchant two stalls away from where I faced, likely the one who sold this boy the bread, but when I turned to his direction he looked away as if he was only passing a trivial glance like most merchants would if they know its their product that got knocked over. When he was all set, the boy thanked me, even offered me a piece of bread. I refused the bread and instead gave him a tap in his left shoulder before returning to my journey. As I was walking off, I heard the merchant call the boy over, offering to replace some of the bread that got sullied with street dirt for free. I didn't stay long enough to know whether the boy accepted it or not.
When I finally reached the town square, I inadvertently insert myself in a commotion. I couldn't get through the crowd, but I only needed to weave together fragments of hearsay spreading amongst the townsfolk to get a good grasp of what was going on. From what I've gathered, it seems that the town has been invaded by a Yoma who has already blended into the populace, and is preying on the defenceless under the cover of the night. A collector from the organization had just arrived and was finalizing a deal with the town's mayor to send a warrior to hunt it down. Around that time I heard a stiff male voice shouting "I won't give you my daughter!" from inside the biggest establishment in the square where the crowd seems to be flocking. This situation, I've seen it unfold many times over, and in each and every one of those, the organization comes out the winner. A warrior's services usually come at a hefty price, and if the client could not amass the required amount, the collector will demand for a little girl as a retainer, otherwise the organization will leave the town to its impending doom. If the town could pay, then all is well. If they couldn't, but choose to comply with the alternative requisite, the organization adds another female warrior to their ranks. If a town gets decimated because they couldn't or wouldn't pay the required amount, the tragedy will serve as an example to all other towns and cities, and future negotiations will be easier. It is a corrupt cycle that has gone on long before I enlisted to pursue my true goal of vanquishing the one-horned monster who took everything away from me. A cycle that ultimately benefits only one entity. A cycle that has to be broken by any means necessary.
I walked away, refusing to hear the rest of the argument. Refusing to see the collector, confident that his prospective client will succumb sooner or later. Refusing to watch another young girl fear for her future, while her parents fear for her welfare, and her neighbours argue about their collective lives being more important than one girl's.
After receiving all the information Miria requested from the post office aide, I conditioned myself for the journey whence I came from. By then, the commotion has digressed into people muttering rumours and opinions around. I passed along the mayor's office and saw the girl who is supposed to save this town by staking her very being. All those inauspicious glances directed at her told me of her identity. Now that word of her being selected by the collector has spread, I doubt the townsfolk would bother contributing to the necessary amount. Humans are such fickle creatures. The mayor's daughter was then sweeping along their house's front door. She was about as tall and the same age as I was when I first wielded my sword, with a fair, rounded face, brown hair that flowed elegantly down her shoulders, subtle nose and lips and a pair of restless green eyes that loudly spoke of her anxiety in having to hear the people she knew vouch for her to be sacrificed. She noticed me looking at her as I pass by and politely nodded at me. Likewise, I nodded back as I walked.
That instantaneous connection we had, despite lasting for only a while, was enough to convince to me try to save her from her impending doom, and the only way I can accomplish that is by hunting the Yoma down myself. But then, taking this matter into my own hands will likely put our secret at risk. I can't make a move without taking our ultimate cause into consideration, for an unprecedented action, even an act of kindness like what I have in mind could put it all in vain. Stepping farther and farther away from the poor girl, I heard a door open from behind me. From over my shoulder I saw her father, the mayor, emerge from their home and sternly urge her to come inside. No longer able to hold her calm front, she rushed into her father's arms and cried, voicing her anxiety over and over. The mayor hugs her back, consoling her, telling her that everything will be fine as any father would.
I looked away and sighed, instantly reminded that I was never truly the type who would fret over a consequence as petty as the organization finding out. That I was never bound by the organization's conducts to begin with, for a warrior's act of disobedience is what saved me, meld me into who I am now. Even if they did find out about me, they would only brush it aside, thinking that a warrior ranked forty-seventh in a group of forty-seven couldn't possibly survive a battle that even single-digits were unable to. Also, I'd definitely regret it if I happen to cross swords with this girl in the future, which is why I must ensure that future will never come to be. I must strike that Yoma down myself, but as a precautionary measure, I must wait until the collector leaves at nightfall.
I patrolled around town up until the sun turns in for the day, but I have not seen anybody acting suspiciously nor sensed any dark presence anywhere. But perhaps that's a good thing, as it can only mean that the Yoma has yet to attack, and that it keeps on its routine of attacking at night. When the night finally fell, I trained my efforts around the area where most of the homes are. Windows glowed from inside as families prepare for supper. Some people are still out on the streets though. As much as possible, I wanted to do this without anyone noticing, but it is not going to happen that peacefully. It never does. By now, the collector should be gone, and it will take the organization at least a day before they could send another out, and half a day for him to turn back. Walking along a row of squarish stone homes, I bumped into that boy again, the one who dropped his bread, but not as aggressively this time. I was hoping to leave apathetically, but he easily recognized me, thus engaging me in petty conversation.
"Hey, you're that big sister from a while ago. Are you looking for a place to stay?" the boy asked innocently.
"...Perhaps so," I replied..
"Aww... I would love it if you stayed with us for the night, but our home isn't as big as the mayor's and its six of us staying there."
"That's alright... I'll find an inn. More importantly, why are you still out at this time?"
"My mom asked me to buy ingredients for tonight's supper."
"I see... In any case, I'll escort you back home. You never know when danger might present itself."
"Don't worry, my house is just behind you, on the first door to your left. If someone tries to go after me, I can just run back inside and I'll be fine. Anyway, my uncle's running an inn nearby, and I'm sure he'd be very happy to tend to you."
While the boy cited directions to the inn he spoke of, I felt someone's presence spying on us from an alley about two houses away, much like at the marketplace earlier. This time however, it reeked of baleful intentions, and the faint, but distinct aura that only Yomas could have. The boy's words soon became muted, and my senses suddenly focused on that presence. I knew that the Yoma has his sights set on either me or the boy, and if it is the boy he's after, I already have a clue as to who the Yoma might be. Feigning a calm demeanour, I thanked the boy and bid him a friendly tap on the top of his hair before we parted ways, me walking towards the direction he gave, and him taking the opposite way. I turned a corner invisible to the Yoma's perception and encountered a young woodsman carrying logs of firewood bunched up with a rope and a broadaxe. Most fortunate. At least I don't have to go through the trouble of having to seek out a weapon that could take the place of my blade, which I deemed impractical to use for this task, within a short amount of time. Using my blade would be like putting everyone's future in vain, for the organization could tell apart cuts made by it. Hurriedly, I snatched the axe from him and took to the roof, quietly hopping atop one house to another until I was able to get around the Yoma's position unnoticed.
As I predicted, I saw the merchant from earlier observing the boy's house from an alley two houses away from the boy's home, looking to have a sumptuous feast. Judging from how brazenly he's expressing his ill intentions, he must have heard about the mayor's reluctance to pay and has lowered his guard considerably, assuming that a warrior has yet to be deployed to take care of him. Too bad he wasn't expecting me. He doesn't seem to be all that strong, and this axe I borrowed would probably be enough to slay him. Carefully, I jumped down from the ledge I was watching him on and crept slowly behind him. However, he took too long to realize that I stood near him that I had to personally call his attention out.
"I'd say it was quite smart of you... Picking your prey based on the amount of bread they consume," I said, just loud enough to alert him.
"H-huh?!" he snaps at me, but later acts as if I only startled him. "W-what are you talking about? You're that drifter who helped that boy earlier... Well, I was just looking after the kid since he looked rather unhealthy..." He tried to convince me of his innocence, but I could sense him tensing up his right arm, preparing to strike me the moment I blink. I gave him what he wanted anyway and blinked, and as expected he forcibly flung his arm at me. But before his arm could graze the hood of my cloak, I have already slitted his throat with the axe, causing his arm to limp down along with the rest of his body, and his head to fall off his shoulders unceremoniously. His bile-coloured blood splattered across the wall going left, and on the spot where his headless body fell. "W-w-wait... Y-you're..." he tried to speak laboriously in his last breath, until he could no longer speak.
"The last thing you'll ever see..." I finished bitterly on his behalf. Just then, the young woodsman finds me holding his bloodied axe.
"There you are! H-hey, i-is that the-" The woodsman frightfully lost his footing and fell on his bottom when he saw the Yoma's severed head lay breathless before me, its expression frozen and distorted with disbelief. Before he could start alarming the neighbourhood, I seized him by the collar with my free hand, pulled him up and pinned him to a clean wall, while still holding the axe with the other.
"Yes, that's the Yoma that's been terrorizing your town. He was preying on a family living around here. You'd be smart to claim this hunt as yours, saying that you jumped him just as he was shedding away his guise."
"B-but..." He made a gesture of complete submission with his hands, so I released him. "But the townspeople... They might not believe that kind of story," he contested as he fixed his garb.
"Which is why I'm giving you this." I produced a small bottle from my waist pocket and tossed it to him. "Water from Rabona, the holy city. Their knights christen their weapons with that water, enabling them to hurt Yoma as a Claymore's broadsword would. Rabona isn't too far from this town, so they won't doubt you if you say you received it from a priest there. Douse your axe with that, and then this Yoma's remains to purge all the remaining youki away and you should be able to dispose of it safely."
"I see. That sounds very convincing, but... Who are you anyway? You don't seem like you're from Rabona... Wait, are you one of 'them'?"
"...'They' are not the only ones who can kill Yoma," I said as I handed the axe back to him. The woodsman followed my instruction to detail, purifying the axe first, then the body, then the head. Frankly, I'm not even sure if what I told him is true or not. Cid told Raki the same folklore when he handed us a bottle of the holy water each before we left Rabona, and I only mentioned it to support the ruse I'm imparting the woodsman with. But if it's enough to try to break the organization's cycle of deceit and corruption and begin a new one where people believe they could protect the land they prosper in with their own strength, then perhaps I too should put more faith in it.
As I was about to set off on my journey back to the north, the woodsman halted me for a moment. "On behalf of this town and the mayor, I thank you," he said with grateful conviction.
"...Just try not to turn into a monster far worse than Yoma...," I told him without averting back.
Those were my last words while I was in that town. Before sunrise could usher anew, I was but a memory long gone.
The End.
written by akaisherry47