Winds of Nostalgia-
Chapter 3: Good for a Rookie
Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews guys. Always good to see people are still enjoying such a fine and soulful fandom. As for Miria, I do eventually plan on involving her more in the story and in Clare's own fantasy, which was something I tried to set up in Chapter 1. Good eye on that one.
Clare awoke from her rest half-expecting to find that everything that had happened with the Organization's training facility was a dream and that she was back in the unforgiving snows of Pieta but as her eyes fluttered open, the lack of freezing wind and the sound of Noel's guttural snoring informed her otherwise.
Clean groaned in a half-asleep stupor, brushing away the tangled hair which had fallen over her face in the night with one hand. She had almost forgotten that during her training with the Organization, she'd had long platinum blonde hair, styled almost exactly like Galatea's. She swept it from her face and sat up, viewing the room lit by the green flickering light of the chemical torches.
Sitting up against the base of her bed, Clare ran her hands through the lengthy strands of hair which fell from her scalp. Clare wondered if she should cut it short again. Many years of experience had shown her that short hair was easier to fight in, less trouble. Cutting the hair short would be the best decision from a practical standpoint, but at the same time, she had always missed her long hair. Something about it reminded it of her younger days with Teresa. It reminded her of when she was a little girl.
Since she'd fallen asleep, the bed sheets had gotten considerably damper. She rustled her legs, feeling the damp sheets clinging to her legs uncomfortably. The dampness was an unavoidable consequence of sleeping in the moist lower chambers. Dew gathered on the roof and dripped down constantly. The living quarters in the training facility weren't designed for comfort. In fact, the Organization might have even planned for the chambers to be uncomfortable on purpose, in order to mentally and physically toughen the recruits. The Organization was always exploring new and twisted ways to sharpen the warriors under their command. Clare wouldn't put it past them.
Being underground and flame-lit it was impossible to tell the time. Clare glanced around the room, using her instincts, and guessed that it was probably early morning. Returning for a brief sleep wasn't worth the effort at this point, even if she could manage with the bed's damp sheets and Noel's loud snoring.
Clare sat up in her bed, pulling the wet sheets from her body. If memory serves me right... Checking the floor of her cell, she found that the organization had passed two fresh uniform sets, cleaned and dry, through the bars as they slept.
Clare swung her feet down from the bed and stood up. Making her way across the cool stone floor to the fresh clothes, she tugged her damp clothes off and pulled on the fresh ones. The feel of the dry, washed cotton fabric rubbing her skin felt heavenly compared to the miserable whiteout conditions of Pieta, where they they gone weeks with the same sets of underwear. Clare winced at the memory. She didn't even want to think about it. Nor did she want to recall just how smelly Helen started to get near the end...
Clare had no desire to return to her wet bed, so she squatted down, sitting against the back wall of her cell instead. Relaxing in her sitting position, Clare glanced to other cells, seeing that only a handful other girls were awake as well. She inhaled deeply, relaxing against the cool rock wall which supported her back. She knew that the other girls thought that this place was a true hell and with good reason. Clare remembered that during her training a majority of the girls had died. The girls in this facility didn't realize that beyond this hellish facility, the true reality of being a half-Yoma was far more dangerous and unforgiving.
Clare peered to her left along the wall. In the cell directly adjacent to theirs, Clare saw a girl with long silver hair was also awake early, sitting on the edge of her bed. Clare recognized the silver hair and the girl's face almost immediately.
Irene!
Irene was sitting on the edge of her bed, arms joined in her lap, her legs dangling as she stared at the floor. Her eyes were focused as if she were concentrating on a single thought. Since meeting Noel, this was the only other face that had been familiar to her.
Seeing the veteran Irene as an anxious young girl was an odd yet welcome sight. It had been many months since Irene had saved Clare from Ophelia's insane hunt and Clare had never been able to repay her. While the girl seemed to possess Irene's determination, Clare could tell that this younger Irene lacked the cold detachment and confidence of her more mature counterpart.
Clare stared at Irene for a long time in puzzlement, but eventually Irene caught Clare's stare. Irene narrowed her eyes at Clare for a moment before turning away, allowing her hair to shield her face. It was far from a welcome from an old friend, but Clare didn't blame Irene. To her, Clare was just another stranger.
Clare looked away, walking to the front of her cell, leaning against the outer bars that separated her room from the hall, but she was granted just a few relaxed moments before she heard the creaking of the main chamber's solid wooden door opening. Into the living chamber poured a contingent of guards, their metal boots clicking against the stone. They filed into the corridor in formation. The sound woke a few girls up, but most remained sleeping.
To the girls, the five hours they were allowed for sleep probably seemed like too few, but they had just not yet fully adjusted to their half-Yoma bodies. In reality, they required even less sleep than the five hours they were given. It was one of the only aspects of the training in which the Organization was actually generous.
Clare remembered that the guards roused the girls each morning by rattling their spears on the bars of each cell, jarring the trainees awake. It was an obnoxious sound to wake to, and made for an effective wake-up call. When Clare was a trainee, her room-mate Elaina used to wake her just before the guards did it so that Clare wouldn't wake up startled. The memories of living with Elaina brought a sad, nostalgic smile to Clare's lips. Elaina had been a sweet girl. If she hadn't been a Claymore, she would have made a fine wife, and if her parents hadn't been killed, she would have made a good daughter. Clare climbed to her feet, deciding that she would rouse Noel before the guard's spear-banging did.
Clare quickly made her way to Noel's bed, grasping the loud-mouthed girl by the shoulders and gently shook her. "Noel, wake up," Clare whispered.
"Dad, I told you to stop tickling me," Noel mumbled in her sleep, clenching her pillow tightly as she rolled over.
It seemed that Noel was a heavy sleeper. Clare didn't want to shake Noel any harder, for fear of startling the hot-tempered girl so Clare shrugged and made her way to the entrance to their cell, waiting for the doors to be opened.
The Organization's guardsmen had already spread out, one guardsman to each cell. Clare eyed the human guard who stood in front of the cell, clad in an incomplete steel plate, with chain mail showing through at various points. Like so many of the guards, he avoided looking her in the eye. He was nervous and scared, like most humans. Dealing with the Organization's freaks was just a job for him, and likely a job that he did not enjoy.
"Rattle!" the guard captain shouted. Hearing the signal, all the guards began to strike the iron bars of the cells with their spear-points, making an infernal banging sound.
Noel erupted out of her covers, got tangled, and fell onto the stone floor face-first. "Shit," she called out, pulling herself to her feet. She scrambled to the front of the cell and quickly changing into her fresh clothes.
"Don't worry no-name," Noel said with a cocky grin as she pulled up a pair of fresh cotton pants. "I'll protect ya."
Clare did her best to look grateful, but she had already mastered this training. She didn't need Noel's help.
"Into line! By twos!" the guard captain shouted. Each guard unlocked the many cells and pulled the rusted doorways open. The girls poured into the hall, lining up beside their room-mates in a long, jagged line. Irene was directly in front of them, but avoided eye contact with Clare as she joined the line in front of Clare and Noel. I'm not supposed to know Irene's name or who she is so I can't just say hello, Clare remembered.
"Who's that?" Clare asked Noel quietly, pointing to Irene.
"Who? Pointy ears?" Noel said loudly enough for Irene to hear, laughing loudly. A few of the other girls joined in. Clare knew that, at times, the Yoma transformation changed the shape of a Claymore's ears, but she'd never imagined that Irene had been teased because of it.
Irene bristled angrily but didn't respond. She only stiffened her posture. Listening to girls laugh at Irene, who Clare knew was a proud and honorable girl made an indignant anger rise within her. Clare too had been mocked during her training.
Clare rested her hand on Irene's shoulder. "What's your name, comrade?"
Irene turned slowly, eying Clare curiously.
"My name is Irene," she said, soft but blunt. Although her vocal tone lacked the confident edge Clare remembered, it was quite similar.
"I... don't remember my name. But when I do, I will tell it to you," Clare promised. Irene took Clare's statement with skepticism, but didn't protest.
She could see the makings of the Irene she knew hidden in this younger Irene. Perhaps this Irene was less dignified, and confident, but she was still the same warrior that had patiently taught Clare the flash sword, and even surrendered her arm to atone for Priscilla's awakening. More so than just that, Irene had saved Clare's life.
"I see. It was good to meet you in any case," Irene said, nodding before turning back around.
"Figures the new kid and the weak awkward girl would be friends," Noel quipped to the two Claymores behind them.
"We are all comrades. Friendship is nothing compared to the bond of a comrade," Clare said. Noel cocked an eyebrow and gave Clare an incredulous look, but she didn't say any more.
Irene is weak? Clare narrowed her eyes in disbelief. Clare found the idea of a weak Irene to be extremely strange.
What a strange and idealistic girl, Irene thought to herself. She looks at me as if she knows me... respects me... and even though she is a new recruit, she speaks as if she carried the authority of a veteran.
Irene's reflection was interrupted by the guard captain let out a shout, ordering the girls forward. As she began the walk to the first class, Irene decided that eventually, she would try to find out more about this mysterious new girl.
As they walked, their line of girls was joined by two separate lines of girls from the two other living quarters. Clare keep searching their faces for Teresa, but she still couldn't locate her in the bustle.
Soon, they reached the training room. Clare followed Noel, who nudged her way aggressively through the crowd. As they entered, they found a wide, rectangular room with ten piles of practice swords lined up across the middle. An middle-aged instructor wearing a black Organization robe with a black eye-patch was waiting for them. "Good morning ladies! Form ten lines!" the instructor announced. Instructor Sezo, Clare remembered. He was younger.
Flanking him stood an older half-Yoma warrior dressed in full armor. This warrior had a fully shaven head, and eyed the entering trainees with an ice-cold, silver-eyed stare. Although she was a different warrior than from the time that Clare was a trainee, the job appeared to be roughly the same.
A warrior without a number, she was the enforcer. Her purpose was to slay any trainee that was too strong for the Organization's human guards to kill. The Organization always kept one close at hand during training.
Clare remembered a few trainees were slain by the enforcer during her generation, sometimes for seemingly insignificant troublemaking. The enforcer had been ruthless, and without sympathy. This one didn't look any less cold. As if sensing Clare's gaze, the enforcer locked eyes with her. Clare quickly broke her gaze. The coldness in the enforcer's eyes sent a chill up her spine.
After looking away from the enforcer, Clare noticed that Noel and the others were no longer by her side. As she had been standing there, the girls had been lining up.
And as Clare searched for Noel, she caught site of Teresa for the first time. Teresa was at the front of her own line, wearing a confident, careless smile. But hidden beneath her superficial expression, Clare could see that Teresa held the same pain and loneliness that Clare had seen as a little girl.
"No-name! Those lines are full, come here!" Noel called out. Shaken from her gaze, Clare saw that Teresa's line was already full. If Clare tried to join it, Instructo Sezo would just force her to move to a smaller line.Reluctantly, Clare filed into another line, behind Noel.
Some of the girls began to talk but the chatter was silenced by Sezo clearing his throat loudly. "Let's start with the basics, the overhand slash," Sezo began. "This is your basic strike. We have done it a hundred times already, and we will do it a million more! Remember your footwork ladies! There's nothing I love more than stomping on some Yoma feet after I see sloppy footwork!"
Clare could see Irene standing at the front of the line to her left, already holding a practice sword, her eyes glistening with determination.
Sezo caught Irene's eyes and walked over to her. "I bet you've been practicing this in your head all damned day," Sezo said musingly. "Let's see it, Irene."
Unaffected by Sezo's critical gaze, Irene held the practice sword firmly in her hands and stepped forward, eyes narrowed. In one swift motion, she swung her practice sword down, executing the slash, her long white hair swishing behind her. Despite the passion and determination she put into the strike, Irene didn't make the slightest noise of exertion.
"Freeze!" Sezo shouted.
Irene froze in mid-swing, face stone-cold with determination as she held her arms at the lowest point of her finished swing, as Sezo had ordered. After giving a quick evaluative glance to Irene's stance, Sezo reached down and grabbed a practice sword from the pile to Irene's right. Clare had seen Sezo do this before, and judging from Irene's footing, Clare knew what was coming.
She was unsurprised when Sezo raised the practice sword and pushed the blunt tip against Irene's collarbone. Clare could see Irene struggling to hold her position her muscles trembling to hold posture, but her legs were just too wide apart. With a small push, Sezo pushed Irene onto her backside.
"You're stance is too wide, and you're standing as rigid as a Yoma's dick!" Sezo shouted. Irene rose calmly to her feet, giving Sezo a dark look.
"Get to the back of the line," Sezo said, waving his hand dismissively. With bitter frustration, Irene made her way to the back of the line as many of the other girls laughed. Irene was proud and deliberate, which made this all the more embarrassing for her.
"First row! Slash!" Sezo shouted. Clare watched Teresa, who preformed the slash beautifully, her sword passing like a blur through the air, faster than all the other girls. She was graceful, even in training, Clare thought.
After the slash of each group, Sezo would criticize a few of the girls before calling up the next group.
Noel, who was directly in front of Clare in line, tried her best to get Clare up to speed, giving Clare a few basic hints as Clare's turn approached.
Soon enough it was Noel's turn. Noel preformed her slash decently well and avoided Sezo's criticisms, but Clare could see that Noel's form had many flaws. Good enough for this stage, Clare guessed. As Sezo called up Clare's rank, Noel patted Clare on the shoulder and winked at her. "Kick some ass," Noel said, before returning to the back of the line herself.
Clare had no trouble with the overhand slash. She'd perfected it over many long years of training. Actually, it was more accurate to say that she'd done more than perfect it, she'd even modified the attack on her own to increase it's speed and cutting power. Clare knew that if she preformed her attack flawlessly, that she'd attract suspicion. As she walked to the front, grasping the practice sword, she urgently tried to decide how she could best try to look sloppy. Raising the practice sword, Clare quickly decided to stick her elbow out too far, a common rookie mistake. Clare readied her weapon, which felt like a twig compared to the weight of a Claymore, and waited for Sezo's order.
"Slash!" Sezo shouted. Remembering to stick her elbow out, Clare preformed the slash instinctively. Unlike the dull noise the other girl's swords made as they went through the air, Clare's made a sharp whistling sound.
As Clare recovered, she could feel all the girl's eyes had turned to her. Sezo walked over, a curious look on his face.
"You there, newbie. Swing again. This time tuck in your damn elbow a bit," he said, eyes narrowed on her.
Clare nodded calmly and swung naturally. She tried to decrease her power a bit, but her sword still made the high-pitched whistle as it sliced through the air. This time, Clare could hear a few gasps, and a rising murmur from the crowd.
Sezo furrowed his brow and gave a slight nod. "Perfect," he said, waving her off.
"Next row!"
Clare dropped her practice sword and walked back through the line. Almost every girl eyed her as she passed. Many of them whispered to one another. From the next line over, Irene eyed Clare with a look of mixed jealousy and disbelief.
"I've never seen Sezo compliment anyone! Where the hell did you learn that?" Noel said with a wolfish grin, throwing her arm roughly around Clare's shoulders.
"Just seemed like the right way," Clare answered nonchalantly.
"Bullshit!" Noel replied incredulously. Clare shrugged.
As Sezo took them through each of the forms, Clare did her best to botch them, but still found that her comrades and her instructor were more impressed after each display. Soon, numerous wide-eyed trainees were asking Clare her name, and paying her compliments.
Eventually, they split into twos and told to practice the strikes and the associated blocks. Clare paired up with Noel. As they sparred, Clare remained quiet at first, but eventually began to give Noel small hints on how to improve her form.
But any time she could look away, Clare was watching Teresa. And the entire time, Teresa did not glance once in Clare's direction. Clare didn't know what would be more hurtful, if Teresa hadn't even bothered to look Clare's way, or if she was intentionally ignoring her.
"Who is that?" Clare asked Noel weakly, pointing to Teresa. Even as she hid her true feelings, to even speak about Teresa flooded her with long-buried emotions.
"Oh Teresa? Don't bother. I heard that one of the girls had a crush on Teresa, Marielle. She confessed to Teresa and Teresa broke her jaw."
Clare watched Teresa methodically going through her forms with her sparing partner. Teresa was not holding back, and attacked with calculated and aggressive force.With one particularly quick strike, Teresa brought her practice sword on the girl's shoulder, causing the girl to fall to the ground with a cry of pain. Teresa's mask, her smile, did not even register the slightest pity as the girl fell to her knees.
"She doesn't let anyone close. She's merciless, that one, and smiles the whole time. She's a sadist."
Clare watched Teresa as the girl cradled her shoulder, heading towards the instructor to request medical aid. Teresa shrugged dismissively and jammed her practice sword into the ground, sitting against the wall. Clare could read the coldness and aggression radiating off of her.
Doesn't let anyone close?
Clare winced as she felt Noel's practice sword strike her hand. "Hey you, pay attention!" Noel chided.
Eventually, after a few more hours of doing forms with partners, the training ended. Noel ushered her to the doorway, but Clare could not put off her reunion any longer. "One moment," Clare said, dropping her practice sword.
Clare made her way to where Teresa had been training to see Teresa already pacing towards the exit. At first, Teresa didn't seem to notice Clare, but eventually, as she approached, she looked directly into Clare's eyes. Clare brightened as Teresa looked her way.
"Hey new girl," Teresa said with a fake smile, eying Clare coldly.
The inhuman coldness in Teresa's eyes froze Clare dead in her tracks. Teresa evaluated Clare in an instant, dismissed her and passed Clare by before she could even respond.
"Hello... Teresa," Clare said softly, feeling tears of rejection welling up in her eyes. Teresa didn't even care. Clare was struck with the realization that she meant nothing to her. It was more painful than any slap.
"What's the hold up, No-name?" Noel called out. Clare quickly wiped the tears away before turning around.
From behind Noel, Clare could see another girl approaching, a devilish grin on her face. Clare recognized her as the last Claymore who had accompanied the others to kill Teresa. She was the strong one.
"You made friends with Noel? Geez, you must be scraping the bottom of the barrel to befriend a brainless chimp like her," the approaching girl said with an innocent, polite-sounding voice.
"EH?" Noel exclaimed angrily with a cocked eyebrow, turning to face the approaching girl. "Sooner me than Sophia, the first male Claymore!"
"Oh that's hurtful," Sophia said, pouting sarcastically. Clare could immediately tell that Noel and Sophia were kindred spirits. It didn't make sense for them to be enemies.
"You two shouldn't fight. You have a lot in common," Clare said.
Noel rolled her eyes at the notion.
Sophia let out an elaborate sigh, punching Noel's shoulder. "This is just the only way that Noel knows how to show love."
"Idiot, you think we're friends. You're a really sad case," Noel taunted, striking Sophia back. Clare smiled as she watched the two, but a single thought lingered in her mind like a freshly re-opened wound.
Teresa... I miss you.
"We wasted enough damn time. Let's grab some food," Noel said, annoyed. Clare followed the two, moving more by instinct than by desire.
I will find a way for us to be together again, Teresa, I promise, Clare pledged.