Winds of Nostalgia-
Chapter 4: Approval at Swordpoint
Author's Note: I am so embarrassed! I can't believe I actually had Clare introduce herself to Irene by her name. ThayerBlue1, thank you for bringing that to my attention. I've edited it so now Clare tells Irene that she cannot remember her name. Once again, I cannot thank you enough for catching my error!
I did remember Rosemary, but I always thought that Rosemary had graduated well before Teresa and was an inferior #1 whose ass Teresa promptly kicked after receiving her number. (Lovable badass that Teresa is)
As Clare lay in her bed that night, thoughts of Teresa flooded her mind. Clare curled up in her blankets, bitter tears wetting her pillow as Noel's unsympathetic snoring droned on. Clare squeezed her pillow to the point where if it was human, she would have collapsed its ribcage. She trembled, racked by the pain of her heartache, all in silence. She hadn't said anything to Noel or Sophia. She wouldn't know where to begin. This whole thing didn't make any sense. It was all wrong. It was a cruel joke.
Through her training and as a Claymore, Clare had spent years re-living her brief moments of bliss with Teresa. She'd held those memories tightly. They had given her strength and purpose. From Teresa, she'd found that two broken people could make each other whole again. But now she felt just as broken as before.
I'm supposed to be strong. But the last thing that Clare felt was strong now as she lay in miserable silence. She felt weak.
A long forgotten dagger in her heart was twisted with the realization that Teresa might never love her again. It might be hopeless. It filled her with an overwhelming dread. Clare couldn't sleep even if she wanted too, and no other concern seemed the least bit important than the one which tore through her like a knife. Since before Teresa's head flew, through the snows of Pieta, and now, to this nonsensical turn of events, Clare had never stopped loving her.
Swish.
Clare stopped trembling and opened her puffy eyes as residue tears dripped down from them. What was that noise?
Swish.
It was coming from next-door, from Irene's room. The sound was distinct, the sound an object made when it was accelerated quickly through the air. She weakly turned herself over, wiping her tears away with her sleeve.
Swish.
Clare looked into Irene's cell and saw that Irene had found a small dark corner, hidden from most prying eyes. She had a practice sword in hand, and was swinging her overhead slash form repeatedly. Clare could barely hear the muffled noise from Irene's swings, and would likely dismiss it if she were even a few more feet away.
Swish. Irene swung with grim determination. The practice sword passed through the air in a blur, and stopped just an inch from the floor.
Clare felt the urge to talk to the silver-haired warrior. Weak with pain, Clare rose from her bed's covers and walked towards Irene, her old but forgotten friend.
Swish.
Clare sat down beside the cold iron bars which separated their rooms, just a few feet away from the small culvert, a refuge of shadow in the green-lit chambers where Irene was practicing.
Irene panted, holding her sword at the ready. She eyed Clare, who had caught her red-handed with property she'd stolen from the organization. How annoying, Irene thought. She had reason to be annoyed for being caught. Stealing a practice sword, for any purpose, was punished by whipping. Clare had caught Irene breaking the rules. If Clare turned her in to the organization, Clare would earn their approval, which, in a place like this, was quite a valuable commodity.
"I'm sorry, Irene. I didn't intend to disturb you." Hearing Clare's apology, Irene's annoyance softened.Irene had expected that Clare had come to confront her, or threaten her. She hadn't expected that Clare had come just to talk. You stand to benefit from revealing me? Why aren't you doing it? Irene was confused. Mercy, compassion, and empathy weren't useful traits to have in a place like this.
Irene sat down, joining her on the stone floor, the web of iron bars the only thing which separated them.
"I was wondering when we could talk more." Irene stole a curious yet quick glance at Clare. There was something very fascinating about the girl, but she couldn't figure out just what it was.
"You practice every night with that stolen practice sword?" Clare asked, eying the stolen sword. She wondered how Irene had managed to smuggle the sword from the practice area. It couldn't have been easy.
"That's right," Irene stated, "I needed it to improve my technique. It was worth the risk."
Clare respected that drive within Irene. Even as a trainee she was so determined, so cold, her body just a tool for her indomitable will. And Clare knew that Irene's willpower would lead her to master one of the most effective techniques Clare had ever seen, the flash sword.
"Your secret is safe," Clare assured her old friend.
"My thanks," Irene said. Irene didn't know for what reason Clare wasn't going to turn her in, but she appreciated it. While getting whipped by the organization would be tolerable, it was not something she looked forward to either. This was the second time that the new girl had done her a kindness.
Irene noticed something that hadn't registered in her first glance at Clare. Clare's eyes were puffy and red. She'd been crying.
"You've been crying,?" Irene asked. Irene was not naturally sympathetic, but she caught the emotion rising within her. It was very strange for her to feel sympathy like this for someone she'd just met. She wondered why it was that she cared about this strange girl. She tried to banish her instinctive emotions, replacing them with the cold serenity which she so preferred. Emotions were so chaotic and random. They were painful, difficult to control and worst of all, they were irrational.
Clare rubbed her eyes, to check for any wetness she had failed to rub away. "I was," Clare said weakly. "Irene, if I told you something, but asked you promise to keep it a secret, could you do that?"
Of course, Irene almost said, but she caught herself. Don't be a fool, Irene, she thought.
"If keeping the secret is dishonorable or immoral then I cannot promise I will. Otherwise, I would take your secret to my grave," Irene answered.
I suppose that is good enough. "My name is Clare," Clare said.
Confused, Irene raised her eyebrows. "You would ask me to keep your name a secret?" Irene asked.
"Don't keep my name a secret... I want the others to know it. Just don't tell them that it was me who remembered it. Tell them that you came up with it."
The odd request took Irene by surprise, but it seemed harmless enough. Also, Irene couldn't pretend that she didn't desire to help her new friend. "I'll do this for you... Clare."
"You were working on your slash," Clare commented. "I can offer you a few improvements to your technique."
"I would appreciate it," Irene said.
"Can I borrow your sword for a second?" Clare asked.
Irene nodded and passed it through the bars. Clare stood, took her stance, and began to explain a few tips of swordsmanship to Irene. Then she preformed the strike. She did it slowly so that Irene could follow it easily, and so that the sound of the slash wouldn't wake Noel.
Then she passed it back to Irene, and watched Irene do a few. For some reason, Clare felt that her broken heart had stopped hurting for the time being. For the brief moment, as she helped Irene with her form, she was at peace again.
"You're stepping too early. Let the power flow from your core," Clare suggested.
Irene nodded and closed her eyes. She tried to feel the power of her swing coming from all parts of her body at once, drawing on her full power like a wellspring. Opening her eyes, she swung.
Clare smiled and nodded. "That was better, Irene."
Irene smiled triumphantly. What am I doing? Irene thought, her smile fading. Why am I smiling? She forced the smile from her face.
On the other side of the chamber, a bed creaked as one of the trainees woke and climbed from their bed. Irene's moment of celebration was cut short.
"Stash your practice sword. Someone's awake," Clare warned, craning her neck at the source of the sound.
Irene heard it too. Even though she wanted nothing more than to feel the sensation of her improved swing again and further ingrain it into her memory, she tucked the practice sword back into her hiding spot within the loose rocks of the corner. Clare rose from her sitting position and made her way to the two sets of fresh clothes the Organization passed through the bars early in the night.
Clare pulled the damp clothes from her slender body, tossing them to the side, before she pulled her fresh pair of pants up fully, she felt a pair of eyes on her.
Clare turned to Irene's cell, but Irene had already looked away. Clare smiled to herself, turned back towards the main hall and pulled on her shirt.
It was about an hour before the soldiers came into the hall to wake the rest of the trainees. They rattled their spears, recruits around the hall jumped from their beds. When the doors opened, Clare and Noel walked out together. Clare greeted Irene in line with a smile.
"Ready for another day, no-name?" Noel asked in a taunting tone.
Irene turned around, and spoke with a dull tone. "It's about time we gave her a name."
"You know the coolest name ever?" Noel asked. She waited for a few moments, building the suspense before revealing it. "Noel," Noel said, sticking out her tongue. Clare couldn't help but smile at Noel's childish sense of humor.
Irene paused for a few seconds before certainty shown in her eyes. It was convincing acting.
"Clare," Irene stated simply.
Noel glanced at Irene, and then back to Clare. "Mmn, that fits," she admitted. "Good call elf-girl."
Clare smiled. "Thank you, Irene."
"My pleasure," Irene said graciously, turning back around.
Noel furrowed her brow and glanced between the two other girls. "When did Elf ears get so nice?" Noel asked with disbelief.
"NOEL IS JEALOUS BECAUSE SHE HAS NO FRIENDS!" Sophia shouted from way back in the line.
Noel slammed her foot against the ground. "I am SO going to kick your ass!" Clare could hear Sophia laughing off in the distance.
Soon, the guard captain shouted for the girls to move and the lines set off towards the training room.
Except, as they passed the turn to the training room, Clare knew that today wasn't a normal training day. The Claymores spent just about every day in the training room. Passing it most likely meant that they were being taken to the surface, to the courtyard.
That meant live sparring.
Staying true to character, Clare feigned ignorance. "Why aren't we going to the training room? Are we going to a different training room?" Clare asked.
"Nah," Noel said with an anticipatory grin, "We're going to the courtyard. The Organization is gonna pit us against each other in sparring matches. Winner gets food and rank. The loser goes home hungry and gets their rank bumped down... Plus being a loser and getting their ass beaten, of course." Clare could tell by Noel's tone of voice, her smile, and the lightness in her steps that the prospect of fighting really excited her.
Clare wasn't afraid of the coming match, but she didn't anticipate it in the way that Noel did. There was a difference between not fearing violence and loving it.
They soon reached a long staircase at the end of the subterranean hall. Clare had almost forgotten about it. It was a long spiral staircase made of crumbling, cracked stone, lined with flickering torches.
As they climbed, circling around multiple times, the numbers of guards on the sides of the line grew more thick as they joined the procession from side passages, which Clare suspected were the guard's quarters.
Walking beside them, there were now two guards for every one of the teenage girls in the line. The Organization was cautious and with good reason. Many escapes had been attempted from the Courtyard.
Natural light tore into the crowd as they reached the top floor. Clare, and many other girls winced and turned their heads away from the sun. Eyes accustomed to long periods of soft-light or darkness were suddenly torn into by the bright light of the sun, Clare, eyes-half closed followed Irene onto the sandy ground of the arena. Her eyes gradually adjusted to the brightness until she allowed them to open completely.
Clare looked up to see an iron-cage mesh blocking the rectangular hole in the roof. While it let sun down into the courtyard, it still prevented escape. Her eyes adjusted to the sun, Clare looked out through the bars to the open sky, envying the freedom of the clouds which passed listlessly by. The Claymore trainees were much like caged beasts, only let free when they had been adequately domesticated.
They hadn't been domesticated yet. The Organization had not yet crushed their individuality, their hearts, their souls.
The heart was a difficult thing to stamp out of a human, even a half-human.
The girls spread out into the courtyard. Many chipped and cracked pillars rose from the ground, supporting the roof above. Clare looked over the shoulders of the many trainees around her, looking at the long white-stone walls which surrounded the courtyard. Thick, thorn-covered vines covered the walls. The far wall, opposite the stairwell entrance, had a few windows protected by yet more iron bars, a viewing area.
Through this viewing area, the organization could watch the sparring matches as they unfolded. The Organization set up the matches to feed their curiosity, and at times, they wanted to see the combat potential of the girls in person.
Behind the iron bars of the viewing area, Clare could see a few of the black-hooded Organization men and the distinct form of the unranked, Half-Yoma enforcer, ready to spill blood on their behalf.
One of the blood-hooded men was Dae, the man with the burned face, the first person she had seen during this strange trip in time. When Clare focused in on him, she saw that Dae's eyes were on her as well. His eyes had probably been fixed on her since she'd emerged into the courtyard. The idea of him watching her so carefully made her feel uneasy, but Clare was in no position to complain.
Instructor Sezo was standing in the middle of the arena, the rays of the sun making an artificial square around him. The trainees gathered around, filling the shaded areas surrounding him.
"Live sparring. You should remember the rules... well... most of you," he said, looking to Clare. He moved towards her. "I think you'll be able to figure it out as you go along. You seem to posses an aptitude for these things."
He turned back around, facing the girls which had gathered behind him. "All will fight today. No exceptions. You may notice that we've upgraded your armaments," he said motioning to a pile of swords behind him. Unlike the wooden practice swords they had been using before, these were far thicker and longer. They almost perfectly resembled actual claymores, besides being made of wood and having dull edges.
"Let's not waste any more time. I know I have things to do. And I'm sure you Yoma kids have... things that you like doing," he said with a wry smile. Sezo turned towards Teresa, far back from the crowd, was leaning against one of the pillars, arms crossed and eyes closed in cold confidence.
"FIRST MATCH, Teresa and Elda step forwards!' Sezo called out.
Teresa seemed unsurprised, and walked to the sword pile. Fingering through the pile of swords, she pulled out her choice sword and made her way to one side of the arena.
Elda, a who was a head shorter than Teresa with long blond hair that hung loosely on all sides of her face, waited patiently for Teresa to finish choosing, and then made her choice of sword as well, drawing a wooden Claymore from the bin.
She lined up across from Teresa in the sand, testing the weight of the sword in her hand, twirling it forwards and then backwards. Clare knew that the match was already over.
"Begin!" Sezo shouted.
Elda bowed politely, her long light hair swinging as she moved her head. "Good luck to you comrade," Elda said.
Teresa cracked a dark smile, but said nothing.
Elda leveled her sword at Teresa like a long talon and edged in, circling slightly away from Teresa's sword arm. Teresa did not even raise her sword, and her eyes remained closed.
Elda approached cautiously, wary of a trap. After lingering directly outside of the danger-zone for a few moments, Elda stepped in and swung for Teresa's head. The swing came fast.
One moment, Teresa was there. The next moment, she had stepped aside. Missing her target, Elda staggered forward and braced for Teresa's counter, but it never came. Teresa just stood there with a slight smile splayed on her lips, and a penetrating coldness in her eyes.
Elda pressed the attack and swung in a combination this time. "YAH, HYAA, HAAA!" she shouted.
Teresa dodged each attack just enough to not get touched, but remained in the danger-zone. When Elda's last attack struck only dust, Teresa moved her arms for the first time, lashing out quickly with her hand. The sound of the slap hitting Elda's face was crisp and sharp. Her face turned immediately red. It was likely to bruise. Blood seeping from Elda's shocked mouth, Elda shook her head in hopeless defeat. "I yield."
The trainees watching were deathly quiet and for a moment, Elda's yield was greeted with only silence. "That's no how this game works," Sezo shouted back. "You still have a minute in the match, and both of you girls are still standing."
"Oh well," Teresa said. As Teresa shot forward, Elda raised her guard, but the speed wasn't on the same level. Teresa just went low, clubbing Elda in the gut with her practice sword. A gasp of breath escaping her mouth, Elda doubled over blood dripping from her lips as she took labored, rasping breaths. With her opponent on her hands and knees, Teresa swung the sword low, smacking Elda's head upwards with excessive power, sending her backwards onto the sand. Falling with gravity, Elda remained still.
"Looks like I didn't need your luck, comrade," Teresa said with a small shrug. Teresa tossed the sword beside Elda's unconscious body and walked from the arena. The crowd silently parted for her. She returned to her pillar, closing her eyes again. She looked bored.
"Winner is Teresa!" Sezo shouted. "Girls, pull Elda out of here and see if she's still alive." A few trainees walked out and hoisted Elda over their shoulders.
"NEXT MATCH, Noel versus Sophia!" Sezo announced.
"This is gonna be AWESOME!" Noel shouted, racing into the arena. Noel picked up the Claymore that Teresa had unceremoniously tossed aside and blew he dust from it.
"I see. You're hoping that after I kick your ass, someone will take pity on you and you'll make your first friend?" Sophia asked innocently, picking up Elda's discarded sword.
"I'm going to shut your mouth for good," Noel snarled.
"Said the lowest ranked Claymore, Noel the dumb-headed," Sophia captioned, tossing her sword onto the ground.
"Figures you'd want to fight like a man!" Noel tossed her sword aside as well, charging Sophia.
"Who am I to say hand-to-hand fighting isn't a viable strategy against Yoma. You girls are the talent, not me," Sezo announced as the two tackled each other, tumbling through the dust, trading blows.
Noel climbed on top, raining elbows down onto Sophia, who did her best to protect her face. Bucking hard Sophia, knocked Noel off and the two rose to their feet again. Both of them were grinning ear to ear.
Noel danced around the outside, bouncing lightly on her feet as Sophia stood still, recovering her breathing.
Noel danced in, throwing a strong kick to Sophia's midsection, which Sophia, blocked with a single arm. Demonstrating superior agility, Noel leaped off her footing and kicked from the other foot, striking Sophia across the jaw.
Sophia was knocked back, blood dripping from her mouth. She came back with a smile, huffing excitedly. Sophia charged.
Noel threw a few quick jabs into Sophia's jaw as she charged, but Sophia was undeterred. She grabbed Noel around the midsection, trapped her arms, and lifted her.
Sophia's arms distorted with bulging veins as she called upon her Yoma powers to hold Noel in mid air and vice grip her midsection. Noel struggled in vain, kicking her feet through the air and began to squeak as Sophia tightened her hold.
Letting out a guttural scream, Noel swung her legs, causing Sophia to stagger. Then Noel swung her forehead down, clubbing Sophia's forehead with a vicious headbutt. Sophia dropped Noel and staggered backwards, clutching her head. "Bitcsshhh!" Noel shouted, voice slurred. She took two steps towards Sophia before collapsing in the dirt, unconscious.
Sophia tried to walk to the crowd, but fell as well. "No winner! That's a tie!" Sezo announced, holding back laughter.
Sezo pulled out a list from his pocket. Clare assumed that the list had all the matches listed on it. "Next Match, Irene versus ... uh..." Sezo glanced up to the viewing area and raised his arms in confusion at the Organization's men.
"It's accurate, Sezo" Dae called down from the window.
"Irene versus Nameless!" Sezo announced. Clare and Irene made their way the arena, picking up their swords.
They lined up across from one another. Clare nodded to Irene, and Irene returned the nod. "Don't hold back," Irene muttered. It was just loud enough for Clare to hear.
"I understand." Clare prepared herself.
The match did not last long. Clare ducked Irene's second swing and twirled her blade, striking Irene sharply in the temple with a crack. Irene fell immediately, her sword falling from her hand and into the dust.
The sight of Irene being taken down in two strokes by a girl who had just arrived was enough to make some of the girls laugh. Gritting her teeth, Irene began to slowly pull herself towards her practice sword.
"Irene," Clare insisted, but Irene pulled herself up, legs wobbling. Clare glanced over to Sezo, but Sezo shook his head. The match wasn't over.
Not officially, anyway.
Grimacing, Clare stepped in and struck Irene again. She wobbled and then dropped into the dust once more. This time Sezo called the match.
"Nameless is the winner!"
More laughter echoed from the watching trainees. Clare offered Irene her hand, but Irene shook her head and pulled herself up. Walking unsteadily, Irene turned to the exit without a word.
Clare sighed heavily.
"Nice moves," a familiar voice said. Clare turned around to see Teresa standing there, wearing an enigmatic smile.
Clare said nothing. She just stared softly into Teresa's eyes.
"If the organization as any sense, they'll put you against me next time. I might just break a sweat," Teresa said with a wink.
Clare looked into Teresa's eyes for one pleading moment, before dropping her gaze to the ground. I don't want to fight you, Teresa. She thought. God damn it. I can't cry. Not here.
Clare held it in. She smiled weakly at Teresa. "I need to go," Clare said, her empty voice spiced with sadness. Turning from Teresa, she made her way towards Noel and Sophia, who were hobbling towards the exit, bleeding and laughing at a joke that Clare didn't see the humor in.
You really are cruel... Teresa-sama.
Teresa watched the strange girl leave the courtyard. Even as she was filled with uncertainty about her, she kept her faint smile pasted on her face. She didn't know what else to do.