Papa

by College Fool

Claymore Number 47 was shocked. The young man, no, Raki, stood in front of her. At his elbow clung a young girl, eyes hidden. But that child’s one word echoed through her ears:“Papa.” A series of shorts on a uncommon angle. Complete.

4. Papa

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The exact sequence of events would forever blur in Clarice's mind.

The Yoma again charged forward, roaring and sending forth bursts to impale its two targets.

Raki, with a masterful handling of his broadsword, avoided the tendrils and used his momentum to slice those that were heading towards Clarice, and rushed forward.

Clarice, not quite stumbling out of the way of the attack, began to prepare to pick up Raki and at least try and carry him to safety.

Then Miata arrived, and suddenly there was so much blood and violence of action that Clarice was unable to remember anything else. The human was keeping better track than she was, and was even trying to strike his own blows, had Miata let him.

But though the events were blurred, the final image was as engraved in her memory as her symbol was into her sword.

Raki stood, a faint smile on his lips though he was clearly confused. For beside him was Miata, holding onto his side with enough strength that Clarice suspected the young man would have bruises. But it was her words that were what upset Clarice's precarious world view.

"Papa… papa…"

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