Beyond Flesh and Blood
Chapter I First Meeting
Summary: Finding love is the ultimate goal in life, but to these warriors such a goal is lost. Awakened Ones are nothing but monsters lost in power. Yet in both, there is humanity within. Can their humanity last out against fate, history, identification, flesh, and blood, and reach out for their lost goal? Can an Awakened One and a warrior, whom both had been striped of their humanity go beyond the barrier, and reach out towards the goal, as man and woman?
Such is the life of a warrior. From day to night, they rise with the sun, travel, slay demonic beings known to all as Yoma, travel even further before camping for the night and sleep, only to resume the routine with the dawning of the sun. Such is the life of the warrior. It is an endless cycle that only changes from time to time, that only ends upon their deaths. Many cope by burying everything that made them human. They bury their emotions, remain aloof amongst the human populace, maintaining minimal contact with them, and bear a simple outlook on their life. They ignore the pains of the outside world and concentrate on what is important: destroy the Yoma.
However, such a life has its risk. A major one being the threat of possibly awakening and become what they destroy. Another threat, which haunts them day by day, is the emotional pain many go through from their pasts before becoming a warrior.
Such is the life of a warrior, known to the public as Claymores, aptly named for the fearsome blade weapon they wield, known as a claymore.
"A man dressed in black will come soon," she quietly stated. "Give the payment to him."
"I-I understand," a man stuttered, disturbed by the monotonous expression the warrior had. Although graced with a certain beauty, her mannerisms, expression, and the reputation for her kind distorted her image, from that of a young beautiful girl, to a dark foreboding entity of destruction whose sole purpose is to destroy Yoma demons.
"I will take my leave," she quietly stated, sheathing her massive sword. Turning towards the nearest gate, she quickly proceeded towards her next destination. Where exactly was yet to be determined, but with no set destination in mind she headed south east.
As the city slowly disappeared into the distance, the Claymore's mind drifted to thoughts about her life. She didn't have much a recollection of what had happened to her prior to becoming a warrior, but she knew deep in her heart she had lost something precious to the Yoma. Of what she no longer remembered, but regardless it plagued her very being, often coming in full force during whenever she had to travel and wasn't on assignment. Although mentally a maelstrom of pains of the past, her outward appearance showed no signs of trouble of any, save for a pair of dead silver eyes.
Her thoughts again drifted to an Awaken hunt she had led only a few months prior. She had been placed as the leader of the group, and had been assigned warriors who were ranked between 20 and 30. An initial skirmish had enlightened her of how she had underestimated her group's battle potential when she watched them flawlessly and effortlessly dispatched a massive group of Yoma in the congregation area. She had been sceptical, believing that she was the only one possibly fit for the task. Such an experience showed her how wrong she was, and how she would have to truly understand what they were capable of and use such knowledge accordingly if, they were to survive. She learned the lesson well thankfully before encountering the Awakened being. With such knowledge in mind, she altered her plans and organization of the hunting party, which resulted in absolute victory, but paid an unfortunate price: two gave their lives to allow her and the other warrior to deliver the final blow.
Since that hunt, she never forgot that lesson. She carried the memory of their sacrifice, always ensuring her battle group was appropriately set up in accordance to everyone's true power and skill. Despite her single digit rank, and the low rank of those under her, everyone had their powers and abilities, thus making rank nearly a moot point, unless those of low rank have been proven to be nothing but a nuisance.
Stopping by a small stream, she looked up to the sky to notice that it had greatly darkened. Realising it would be pointless to travel any further.
Taking off one of her gloves, she kneeled down in front of the water as she cupped her hand and spooned a small amount of water into her hands before drinking the cool water. Staring down at her reflection, all she saw was a blank, forlorn expression of a girl with flat semi-wavy hair, and a dead pair of eyes. Tucking a bit of her hair behind both ears, she looked away, not wanting to risk any possible emotional responses from looking at her reflection. Often she felt something tug within her whenever she looked at herself. She didn't know why, but something about her reflection brought a pain in her heart. For what reason, she never knew, but she paid little heed, seeing it as nothing more than something irrelevant.
Brushing her current train of thought aside, she drew her sword. A sudden rustle of the bushes suddenly brought her senses to bear as she takes a ready stance and turns to the source of the rustling. She scoffed lightly to herself, knowing she allowed herself to get careless for a moment.
She waited a moment longer to see a man suddenly stumble out from the bushes. Realising it was a human, she lowered her weapon, but kept it tight within her hands should the need to defend herself ever come.
"Sorry about that," the man sheepishly apologized, chuckling from embarrassment. "I just saw the stream here. I didn't mean to scare you or anything."
The warrior continued to study the man for a moment. On his back just over his right shoulder was the hilt of his sword. What was exactly sheathed she couldn't tell, for his body hid it from view. Besides his weapon's hilt, spaulders, and black cloak that reached down nearly to his ankles, all that was left visible was his face. From his appearance, he appeared no older than early twenties, with light brown hair held back in a small pony tail, with his bangs lightly hanging in front of his forehead. From her standpoint, she could barely make out the calm blue eyes of his, along with a thin scar that ran from his left temple, to the right tip of his chin. He had a bit of growth on his face, but that would be the case from travelling for a while.
"You didn't scare me," the warrior calmly replied. "However, why are you here?"
"Oh don't mind me," the man quickly replied, showing signs of embarrassment, rather than the fear that she often encountered. "I'm just here to set up camp. Don't mind me." Clicking his tongue, a house clamoured its way out from the forest and immediately made its way towards the stream, drinking the refreshing liquid.
As he let his horse have its fill, he reached underneath his cloak, followed by two distinctive clicks before he took off his cloak, which had his spaulders attached, and laid it down on the ground flat. Underneath his cloak, he wore a simple shirt, and black pants, and a pair of sabatons which he quickly removed and placed by his cloak. Going about his business, he quickly reached into a bag that his horse carried, as he procured some firewood and other such objects, as he started to prepare a fire.
Seeing how he was going to leave her alone, she quickly returned her weapon to its sheath and turned to leave.
"You can stick around if you want," he called out. The warrior turned around and regarded him for a moment. Seeing how there were no foreseeable dangers, she returned to her intended location, stabbed the weapon into the ground, and began to shed her armour. The man for his part began to light the fire, with a decent collection of firewood beside him to start the fire.
"You do not fear me?" He looked up from his work to see the warrior had removed her armour, wearing only the grey spandex, sitting cross-legged and leaning against her sword.
"Pardon me?" he replied back, somewhat surprised by the question.
"I said-"
"I know what you said," he said, cutting her off. "But I don't see why I should fear you. Granted you are one of them powerful warriors we call Claymores, but I don't see a reason to." The Claymore for her part only looked at him curiously. For so long, she had been scorned for being nothing more than an ugly stain that needed to be cleaned off when the time came. But now here was this man who openly stated he didn't fear her, or had any reason. Although refreshing to find someone who didn't regard her as a monster, she didn't dwell upon it, for in the morning they would go their separate directions, never to meet again.
"So, what's your name?" the man casually asked, as he sat down in front of his fire, satisfied with his work as he pulled out some dried meat for himself, and a bag of oats for his horse.
"There's no point to tell," she deadpanned, closing her eyes as she prepared to sleep. "You'll eventually forget."
"I disagree," he countered, causing her to look up at him. "It would be a bit hard for me to forget a pretty face like yours."
'Who is this guy?' she wondered to herself. First of all the man had appeared out of nowhere, claiming that he wanted to set up camp, to then later state he didn't fear her kind. And now he was asking for her name, saying he wouldn't forget her name. To her, he was an extreme oddity, and to a point, a nuisance.
"I guess I'll go first," the man sighed tiredly. "I'm 'Long sword' Henry. I'm a simple mercenary travelling from town to town offering my combat services, which range from dealing with simple bandits to holding off Yoma demons until a Claymore can arrive and deal with it. And this is my horse, Rose. So what about you? What's your name?"
Seeing no other alternatives, and the fact she had some manners, she sighed in resignation before responding, "I am number 8 'Windcutter' Flora. You are already aware of my role in this world; therefore I won't speak about it. Do you have any other questions?"
"Not exactly," Henry shrugged, gnawing on the piece of meat. "Well, where you off to, exactly?"
"Presently south east," she replied, starting to feel some agitation towards his questionings.
"I see," he simply replied, as he continued to eat his dinner. Picking up a small piece of meat, he held it up in her direction, silently offering the piece to her.
Flora regarded the offering for a moment before she reached over and accepted the piece. She looked at him somewhat suspiciously, as the size of the piece was about the correct amount she would normally eat if she went without food for over a week. And considering she hadn't had a thing to eat for well over a week, her suspicions shot-up as she wondered if he had been secret following her the entire time.
Immediately dropping the piece of meet, she jumped to her feet as she drew her sword and pointed it towards Henry's neck only to see him roll away towards his cloak were he drew his sword. She noted that he was carrying a massive sword was about 140cm long from tip to pommel.
"Who are you?" she snapped, sheathing her blade, ready to strike if her suspicions were correct.
"I just told you!" he replied back, exasperated and surprised at her outburst. "What's wrong with you?! I offer you some dinner, and you try to behead me?!"
"How could you know I only require that much?" Flora sharply asked, taking up a stance showing Henry she was serious.
"Look, I don't know what you're talking about," he began, putting his hands up in the open after laying his sword down, "but all I did was offer the last chunk of meat I had." Henry began to sweat, seeing the seriousness in her eyes, and realizing how much danger he was in.
"I swear I didn't know that you only needed that much!" he cried out, holding his ground, praying Flora would believe him. "It was just by chance alright?!"
"Where is it?" she snapped back, not at all pleased with Henry's actions.
"Where's what?!"
"The Yoma," she shot out. "The Yoma you're working for. No normal man would approach me unless they were a Yoma."
"What in the world are you talking about?!" he gasped. "Why in the world would I want to – Look out!" Bolting forward, he took himself and Flora to the ground as a massive bolt shot out and struck the air their bodies were just occupying.
Looking up in confusion, she noticed how dangerously close their faces were. She could feel his breath along her face. More than that, she could see his boyish nature underneath his rugged features, the depth of his scars, and his eyes. As she peered into his blue orbs, she saw a massive cavern of loneliness. Somehow she felt a certain familiarity within his eyes, like a part of her soul wanted to reach out and fill that void. She didn't understand what she was feeling, only that it was there.
Her thoughts were jarred when she suddenly realized she was thrown to her left. Rolling a bit, she quickly got up on her knees to see a massive Yoma ready to strike Henry. Henry for his part quickly retrieved his weapon as he swung out, immediately cutting off the fingers of the demon's left hand, greatly surprising both the Yoma and Flora.
"You like that?" Henry called out as he prepared to strike again. The Yoma responded with a roar as it backhanded Henry aside, causing him to drop his sword and slide against the dirt.
With its attention solely on Henry, it failed to pay attention to Flora until it was too late. Before it realized its mistake, she had long attacked, as it soon fell into a bloody heap of fleshy parts.
Sheathing her sword, Flora sighed tiredly, annoyed about the events of the evening. This had not been her plan, as she had simply wanted to sleep and resume her journey, until she was called upon again for another assignment. Moving around the bloody carcass, she quickly put her armour back on and started to head out upstream, not wanting to sleep near the body, and be where the scent could possibly reach her.
Satisfied she had placed enough distance between herself and the remains, she silently stabbed her sword into the ground, removed her armour once more, and sat cross-legged and leaned against the blade, closing her eyes allowing her to slip into a dreamless state, ready for anything.
However, her sleep was disturbed as she heard the sounds of gear, and horse trotting closing in. Feinting sleep, she subtly tried to sense out the presence, only to realize that it wasn't the familiar yoki of the Yoma's. Not able to sense the presence, she opened her eyes to suddenly see Henry again with his horse, and a torch in hand.
"Oh," Henry gasped, surprised he had run into her again. "I didn't know you had gone this far. I just wanted to put more distance between myself and that thing back there. You don't mind if I stay here do you?" Flora, however, eyed him dangerously. After the previous encounter, she was extremely suspicious of Henry.
"What do you want?" she sharply asked, ready to knock him out if need be.
"Calm down for crying out loud," Henry shot back, trying to ease the situation. "I'm just a mercenary, and no I don't answer to those demons! I did just say I fight them, so why would I want to help them, even if they paid me good money?!
"C'mon, give got to believe me; I have no interesting in getting you hurt by anyone."
Flora regarded Henry long and hard. Although the fact he happened upon her was an accident, everything else from then on only proved to be suspicious. His choice to camp near her, asking about her, offering the correct amount of food, the fact a Yoma appeared, it only added up to him being one himself. However she smelled nothing out of the ordinary from him, save for the blood of the Yoma that was coming from his sword. Her gaze eventually met his. Looking deeply at him, she slowly reassessed the possible danger he could cause. Seeing nothing in his eyes, she slowly nodded in acceptance.
Henry sighed in relief as he reached under his cloak. Following the two familiar clicks, he again discarded his cloak, dug a small hole on the ground, and placed the torch in the ground, as he firmly anchored it to the ground. Going about his business once more, Flora watched as Henry quickly assembled a new fire pit, and had it lit in relative time, before he sat down and resumed his interrupted meal, which including him holding up another piece of meat towards her, to which Flora regarded with suspicion.
"Oh c'mon," Henry said through the mouthful of food. "You've got to be kidding me! I didn't know at the time. And because now I know you don't need much, I'm giving you the right amount. So could you please relax, and just accept it?" Flora sighed tiredly, feeling the strain of operating without food for so long. She knew that if she didn't eat soon, her battle efficiency would be greatly affecting. Knowing not accepting the food would be an unwise choice at this point; she tentatively reached out, accepting the piece that had been placed in her hand. Sniffing the piece, she found no traces of possible poison, and took a small bite.
Henry simply sat on his spot as he ate, watching Flora eat her piece with interest. He often heard that they fought and moved with grace, especially the more skilled warriors. Watching her eat, further confirmed that gracefulness, seeing how she slowly chewed on each piece, with lady-like precision. He couldn't help but smile at the display, amused how just a little while ago she was a cold-blooded killer, whose role was only to destroy Yoma.
"Flora," he muttered, as he swallowed a mouthful. "It suits you." Flora looked at him strangely, having just finished her meal.
"Pardon me?" she asked, surprised by the statement, her expression reflecting her confusion.
"I'm just saying, you look like your namesake," Henry explained, as he stoked the fire and added more wood. "Flora is the Goddess of Flowers, and I have a penchant for flowers." He turned to Flora, and gave her a warm smile. Flora could only eye him sceptically. Although familiar of such story, she found it confusing someone would refer her to the goddess. Considering she brought death and destruction everywhere she went, she was confused as to how she looked like someone who was a Goddess of Flowers.
"I fail to see the relevance," she deadpanned, choosing to finally ignore him, and go to sleep.
Henry simply shrugged, and decided to go to sleep himself. Making himself comfortable and putting in a bit more firewood, he laid his head down on a small blanket he had pulled out, looked up to ensure Rose was comfortable before finally letting himself sleep.
"Maybe," he sleepily muttered to himself. "Just maybe."
So what are your thoughts? This is a Claymore story attempt of mine. I don't know how this is going to progress, but I've outlined how this story is going to make head-way. Considering though that the fandom is small at the moment, it'll probably take a while before it can really gain any real headway in terms of a good audience, but I'm hoping those who read this will remain faithful to my story.
Anyways, I liked Flora, and was disappointed she had to die. Tear drop But hence why there is such a world known as a fan fiction world where things can happen which we wished happened in the anime.
Well anyways, that's all from me
Cheers