For the Sake of Existence
There was blood everywhere. Nothing was spared of the crimson liquid; it was splashed onto trees, it pooled on the ground, it even stained the nearby pond red. A number of bodies of various travelers were strewn about, missing various limbs or even a head.
In the middle of the carnage was a foul creature with violet skin that stood taller than any human. It happily feasted on the innards of a recently killed person, savoring the flavor as it dug its maw filled with sharp teeth into the corpse.
Its sensitive, pointed ears picked up the slightest sound of another person walking into the area. It looked up with its reptilian eyes, spying the silhouette of an individual entering the clearing from across the pond. Angered by the disturbance the beast roared as it reared up and rushed through the bloodied water towards the intruder, stirring the crimson-stained pond into a torrent and further mixing the liquids. Coming upon its target, it readied its claw to kill the intruder.
For a brief second, the individual's eyes shifted, becoming a glowing reptilian yellow that matched its adversaries. Suddenly, as the person's power increased, the eye shaded to orange. The next second, the individual disappeared in a blur of speed, only to reappear behind the monster, leaving a carved up carcass in her wake.
The job she was taking wasn't any different from the others. Like every other town Clare visited in her area, it was being attacked by a single Yoma according to what Rubel told her. Nothing unusual.
Looking around the crowd that gathered to see her, she immediately began to work. With each face her eyes identified, she scanned for any possible signatures hidden by a disguise. So far, nothing showed up. It was likely she spooked the Yoma either into hiding or leaving. At least it knew its demise was inevitable.
As she worked, a small part of Clare buried deep in her being felt alienated. Human, Yoma, Warrior… no matter the race, Clare always felt estranged, like an outsider always cursed to look on the inside. From the beginning of her life, she straddled the fine line of human and monster, unsure of what she was or what she could become. The comfort of having once been human wasn't hers to claim—not like her other 'sisters'—but she never exhibited Yoma traits beyond what other regular hybrids displayed.
Clare quickly squashed the bubbling feelings of alienation, her thoughts quickly drifting back to her current job. She could ponder her own existence later; right now, any distraction would only serve as a detriment.
Finding nothing, Clare moved on, all the while systematically scanning each face and checking for Yoki. As Clare walked on, the novelty of her existence quickly dissipated with the crowds, giving her more room to work.
Halfway down the road, the scent of a Yoma assaulted Clare's nostrils. On instinct, her eyes flashed gold as she suddenly spun, pulling out her claymore. The tip of her sword stopped an inch short of the neck of a young man.
"Hi!" he greeted cheerfully, despite the weapon pointed at his throat.
She eyed him for several seconds, determining whether this person was a threat. Although he smelled of Yoma, the young man didn't have a Yoki signature. Likelihood was that he somehow had contact with the Yoma. But how was still beyond Clare.
Satisfied with the knowledge that the perpetrator that violated her space was nothing more than an overly curious young man, she sheathed her sword and turned back around. The young man, unperturbed despite the close assault, continued to follow. Clare simply ignored his presence.
"So…" he began, "you're a Claymore?"
Though she wasn't willing to show it, Clare was wondering why this boy was following her. Reckless stupidity, she guessed. He certainly struck Clare as stupid; he seemed overly trusting.
Nonetheless, she supplied an answer. "That is what regular people refer to us as." Beyond other things, Clare added with the barest hint of bitterness.
The hybrid felt caught off guard with her own feelings, but like before she squashed them for the sake of her mission.
"So, then what are you guys called then?" the young man pressed on, hoping to make conversation.
"Usually, we simply refer to ourselves as warriors," she curtly answered.
Her lips tugged downward, but it was barely noticeable. Why exactly was she talking to this boy?
Coming to the end of the road, Clare looked over her back at the town. It was small compared to a few others she'd visited. With a quick run over the rooftops, it wouldn't take long before she pinpointed the Yoma and exterminated it. Yeah, just another mission…
…Or at least it was until she remembered the boy following her every step.
Clare wasn't insulted; as a matter of fact, the human contact was… refreshing, but Clare wasn't used to such attention. She simply didn't know how to deal with it.
Satisfied with her scan of the area, Clare dug her sword into the ground and sat against it. Only after closing her eyes did she allow herself to relax. It wasn't that she was tired, but to relax for a mere minute or two would be nice before she killed the Yoma. Hopefully, the boy would leave her alone for a minute.
Speaking of which…
Opening her eye, she found him not present. With a shrug, she returned to her thoughts. He must've gotten bored with her, or something.
The thought caused a sting to enter her being. Her human half naturally wanted—
Her thought's were interrupted as the sound of a board being stabbed in the ground reached her ears. Opening her eyes, Clare blinked as she found the boy replicating her actions, leaning against the board with his arm crossed with a grin plastered to his face.
Well… this was different.
"My name's Raki, by the way," he said. "What's your name?"
Clare leaned back on her sword with closed eyes. "It doesn't matter. It's a name that would be soon forgotten."
Raki leaned back on the wooden plank, a grimace marring his face. He was trying to make conversation with this lady, but it was a difficult process. She just wouldn't open up.
He stood, garnering her attention. "I need to get going. It was nice talking to you."
As much as he wanted to stay and learn more about the Claymore, he didn't want Zaki to worry. With a Yoma running around town with a false identity, everyone was paranoid.
Upon opening the door, Raki's nostrils were assaulted with a mixture of blood and a foul stench that he couldn't identify.
"Uncle, Zaki!" Raki called out in worry.
When no one answered, he ran to the source of the smell. His sight was greeted to a horrific scene. A beast with purple, warty skin was hunched over his dead uncle, covered in blood.
The beast, hearing Raki, turned to greet him. To the boy's horror, the Yoma's face held the distorted visage of Zaki's face, the remnants of its disguise.
"With that Claymore in town," spoke the beast, "I'll need to leave before she finds me. I thought it suitable to eat before I left."
"No…" Raki muttered, horrified.
"Kukuku. Your brother's innards were delicious," it laughed. "In order to better disguise myself, I ate his brain as well." It laughed again. "It was so difficult not to eat you. I could imagine digging my teeth into your innards, savoring the sweet flavor. But now my disguise is useless with that bitch nearby, so it doesn't matter. I'll devour you and then leave here!"
It reached out a hand to grasp its prey. But right before their eyes, the Yoma's arm was severed. With widened eyes, the beast spun around to find the Claymore, holding her sword with one hand and her eyes glowing gold.
"How did you…?" the Yoma asked, eyes widened.
"The boy smelled of Yoma," she curtly answered.
"YOU BITCH!" the beast roared as it reared up a fist.
Clare's golden eyes flashed amber as she drew upon more Yoki, disappearing in a blur as the attack crashed into the ground, reappearing above the monster with her sword pulled back. As the Yoma turned, Clare deftly cut the beast in half with a crash, scattering violet blood.
'Amazing,' Raki thought with awe.
Clare relaxed under a waterfall, cleaning the violet blood that splattered from her last kill. She was far from vain, but Yoma blood had such a nasty smell to it. It almost became a habit to take a bath after every job to eliminate whatever smell or leftovers might've landed on her.
"Although I agree that Yoma blood does stink, I hope you realize that it's a fundamental part of you," Rubel's voice said with a hint of amusement. "Even from the day that you were born."
Clare didn't say anything, choosing to continue to keep her eyes closed, enjoy the cool water, and ignore her handler's presence.
It was true. Her scent was a strange hybrid, an effect of the natural Yoma-human blood that ran through her veins. Clare didn't hate it per say, but it made her feel different among her peers; the human and Yoma scents of her 'sisters' always conflicted, while Clare's own seamlessly blended. Still, it was more pleasant than the stench of Yoma blood.
"By the way, once you're done, I have another job for you," Rubel told her. "It should be pretty quick like the last."
He glanced at the stigma that plagued all of the organization's warriors. Or at least, it was the spot that the stigma usually appeared. Not a scar marred Clare's body, not even from the horrendous procedure that inserted Theresa's flesh into hers.
Rubel remembered the disfigurement quite vividly; it was no different from any other girl that underwent the surgery. But, just barely two weeks after the procedure, the stigma on Clare disappeared. He surmised different reasons for this; one was that Clare already had the regenerative qualities that were associated with all warriors, and because she was already a hybrid her flesh must've easily absorbed Theresa's own. To that point, it had been pain to keep the higher-ups from discovering the anomaly.
He inwardly chuckled as he left the hybrid to her musings. Clare was indeed different. Hopefully, it would be those characteristics that made her different that'd make her a useful trump card.
Only after Rubel left did Clare open her eyes, her irises briefly flashing gold. With an unreadable expression, she looked up into the skies, watching as a flock of birds flew from a tree.
"What am I?" she muttered to herself.
It was a question she often asked when nobody was looking. And one she never truly got an answer for. She never fit into any category, not as a human, Yoma, or warrior; she was too different. Even her Yoki had a different quality to it.
Often, she pondered how much of what she had in her body. The possibilities varied from one-third, exactly half, or even three-fourths of Yoma blood running through her veins. In all likelihood, though, she was two-thirds human, speaking that humans were sometimes more of a threat than some of the foulest Yoma. Even Theresa of the Faint Smile, the greatest warrior ever produced by the organization, had to abide by the rules (at one point at least), even if it meant harm was done to her.
Even with that likelihood, there was a possibility that Clare was wrong. Slim as it may be, at least.
Still, the idea that she was two-thirds human held a great deal of merit. If she'd been born bearing any quality of a Yoma, Theresa would've killed her on the spot—as morbid a thought it is, it was true no matter how she looked at it.
From a young age, she was ostracized. Bearing the looks of a 'silver-eyed witch' as a child made many fear her. Even the Yoma were weary of her when she was a child, thinking her more dangerous than even the warriors that hunted them.
Feeling she spent enough time pondering things from under the spring, she stood and readied for her next job.
Her eyes scanned left and right, taking in every detail of the environment that'd soon be stained with the blood of Yoma. A gentle breeze drifted through the town, dust kicking up and following its every step.
Windows closed tightly, doors barred and locked, not a single soul wandering the streets…
Everyone's locked themselves indoors, Clare noted. With the number of victims in such a short amount of time, I'm not surprised.
Her musings were prematurely cut as a single person walked out in front of her, stopping a small distance away. The moment the Yoma's signature assaulted her sixth sense, Clare's pupils contracted until they were slitted.
It was quiet until the Yoma broke the silence. "Well, well, I never dreamt a warrior would come alone. I was hoping for… more."
Clare wasn't perturbed in the slightest. Rather, her attention was on four other signatures hiding within the homes. "You can tell the others to make themselves known."
The Yoma ahead of her—the de facto leader of the flesh-eaters in the town—flashed surprise with its human-like features, but quickly steeled itself with a sneer. "A bit better than I anticipated, but no matter. We'll end your miserable existence for thinking you can stop us."
With a wave of a hand, three other beasts entered the street and moved to surround Clare, almost blurring her sixth sense with their unimpeded signatures.
Four in total… the hybrid analyzed, already formulating plans of attack. This can turn bad if I make a wrong move. Wait… there's a fifth on the rooftops. No doubt that one will try surprise me.
She was no 'Eye', but Clare knew her sensing abilities were above the regular cut, a product of her seamless hybridization. Still, it paled compared to Theresa's; Clare hadn't fully grasped predicting an opponent's movements through Yoki alone.
Clare gripped her claymore's handle, eliciting a smirk from the leading Yoma. "How brave, taking on all five of us."
Taking its cue, the seemingly hidden Yoma leapt at her. With a mental cry of 'Now!' Clare rolled out of the attack. The assaulter hissed with aggravation at the missed attack, all the while Clare noted the wings on its back. An older Yoma… This was shaping to be a difficult fight.
"Die half-breed!" another Yoma roared as the others charged.
Half-breed! The word echoed through Clare's mind, but she quashed all thoughts as she reflexively drew her sword and spun to dodge several haphazard clawed swings.
Her sense so blurred by the surrounding figures, Clare never noticed the winged Yoma attacking from behind, driving both its feet into her back and sending the warrior skidding across the dirt.
"We've got her!" one Yoma roared, eliciting all the monsters to charge forward, all excited at the prospect of defeating their most hated enemy.
As she recovered from the attack, Clare's beautiful visage morphed into something beastlier. Blood rushed through her veins as did pain and ecstasy, expanding them and increasing her already impressive strength; her golden irises shifted into a hazel orange from the growing intensity of Yoki.
The sudden shift in appearance was enough to stall the attackers. Seeing the loss of momentum Clare struck, a silver blur among the ogres. Assaulting the first Yoma, Clare severed an attacking arm, following a strike to the neck.
One, she mentally counted, turning to another. A jump to the side, missing extended fingers. Silver-flash straight through the eyes. Two. Duck. Upswing, splitting the Yoma into two halves. Three.
It had almost been child's play with so much Yoki coursing through her body.
Yoma five couldn't take it. Flapping its wings, it readied for an ascent to safety. Just as before it could hit the air, a silver flash severed its head, followed by a blur of movement revealing Clare catching her sword as it flew by her head.
The last Yoma, the leader, attempted an escape. With a blur, she reappeared in the path of the Yoma, digging her sword tip into its throat and drawing violet drops of blood. Powering down, her now golden eyes stared into the Yoma's intently.
One quick swing would end everything here…
"Die half-breed!" another Yoma roared as the others charged.
"Get away from that little monster!" a mother cried as she herded her children away from a blond child.
"She looks just like those silver-eyed witches," an old man noted with disgust, looking down at a child that sat quietly on the side of a street staring down at the dust at her feet, away from spite filled eyes.
Half-breed… words she didn't know whether to hate or embrace.
Alienation. Disenchantment from the world around her. An outsider looking into the inside. Loneliness… That was her world. Outside, she wore a mask of indifference, but that wasn't the truth. Clare felt emotion more than she liked to admit, and often buried them for fear of what thoughts they'd pull her to. Though, those feelings she did bury always worked their way out of the grave. Sometimes it gave way for feelings of sadness. Other times, it led to spite for everyone and everything.
She felt an emotion bubble from within as she stared intently at the cornered Yoma, but it wasn't anything she could identify.
"Half-breed, that's what you called me."
Satisfaction bubbled on the edges of her being as the Yoma slowly backed away from the sword tip at its throat.
"That's all you'll ever be," it hissed at her.
Clare almost felt amused. Such words held more truth than even the monster would ever know. "True. I wasn't born a human to begin with."
"What—" It never finished as its head separated from the body.
"How strange," Rubel's voice stopped Clare, just barely outside of the town. "You hesitated for a minute."
She didn't turn towards her handler.
"Tell me, what was it?" he asked with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "Hatred? Pity? Amusement?"
Clare's eyes glazed over as she pondered what she felt then. It could've been anything. Even a mixture of everything.
"… The job is done. Go collect the money for five Yoma." Her voice betrayed nothing, but Rubel knew better.
"Oh, so you fought five," the agent sounded approving. "Not bad. How very… noble of you." His words stopped Clare as she moved to pass by. "Risking you life for these ungrateful villagers—these humans—against a pack of five Yoma… Was it because you remembered your old self, how lonely and defenseless you'd been until your mother made it go away?"
Clare pointedly looked at him from the corner of her eye, her eyes flashing gold for the briefest of moments.
"As I said," she countered, as she sauntered away, "I'd rather finish the jobs quickly. Nothing more."
A laughing smirk pulled at Rubel's mouth. Weak or strong… it was an answer Rubel couldn't decide yet.
At the very least, Clare was amusing.
"And here I was thinking of sending you to Rabona…" Rubel quietly muttered to himself, his ever-present smile a hair wider than normal. "I believe a change of plans is in order."
Author's Note: Two things. First I would like to apologize for not getting this chapter done sooner; for some reason it was difficult to write. Next thing: I received a couple of reviews noting how similar this is to the manga/anime at this point. Let me assure you, starting next chapter everything completely changes, as hinted by Rubel.
I needed these first chapters to build the foundation of Clare's persona here. As you can tell, there are subtle differences in her psyche compared to her canon counterpart; she's far more emotionally and mentally isolated, and she struggles with misanthropic views. She feels like an outsider all the time. With Raki's added presence in the coming chapters, this is going to lead to some very interesting conversations and character development.
Speaking of Rubel, he's a very conniving individual in the manga, but here… Oh he's so much worse. As the past couple chapters have expressed, he's trying to develop Clare into a weapon to be used against the Organization. And to do that, he's far more hands-on. Next chapter will seriously emphasize that notion.