scene I

SILVER-EYED SLAYER

Men, women, and their children stood gathered around the mutilated body in the middle of the village road. The victim had been split open at the chest and it's cavities emptied. Everyone remained standing back from the wide pool of blood that had spread out from the corpse. Even the stray splatters were avoided, as if the blood were now considered poison. Horrified whispers made the air buzz with fear.

"This is the sixth one."

"Damn it! The last one was just three days ago."

"What'll we do? At this rate..."

It was too obvious and painful to state: the village could be wiped out. Picked off one after the other, down to the last child. It was universal knowledge that yoma diet was exclusively humans. Their cruelty and disdain for humans came second to a yoma's voracious hunger for fresh guts. It was an unimaginable way to die, ripped open and feasted on while still squirming, yet the yoma's victims could expect nothing less.

"There's no doubt about it," The men said grimly to each other, "if we don't do something, we're finished!"

The men gathered at the village chief's home, crowding the room with their lean, anxious faces. The air was hot and stuffy but they still dressed in the tunics and long pants of their livelihood. To prevent dirt and sand from working their way under their clothes when digging in the mines, sashes were tied around their ankles and boots and around their waists to insure that their shirts remained tucked into the waistbands of their pants. The sheen of sweat on their skin, along toned arms accustomed to swinging picks and faces that had been browned by years toiled in the sun, could not be attributed to heat alone. Their sweat was cold, distinguishing their fear. "What'll we do, chief? That's the sixth one!"

"If we just sit here and wait, we'll all be butchered!"

"They eat your guts while you're still alive!"

Fear gripped their voices. The horror stories of yoma encounters reached villages far more remote than their own. The tales were as countless as they were gruesome. There was no safe haven in the world from the demonic race of yoma. Man's struggle to survive and surmount their role as prey went beyond their recorded history.

One young man, only recently emerged from boyhood, disrupted the rising panic in the room by firmly slamming his hand down on the chief's table with a resounding wham. "So, what are we supposed to do!" His hazel eyes were bright with frustration. "Once they take human form, it's practically impossible for us to spot them! Are you saying we should just round up suspicious-looking characters!"

The men appeared uneasy at this reminder; human senses were too dull, too primitive, to ascertain yoma from humankind once a monster had assumed the appearance of one of their own. No, they needed the hulking bodies, blazing gold eyes, and sharp teeth characteristic of yoma to tell them who the predator was.

"Calm down, Zaki."

Zaki, the young man who had outburst, looked over his shoulder in surprise at the chief. The chief was an old man who had seen many winters. Zaki thought he should have had something to say from the wisdom of long-life before now. But it was only now that he chose to speak. For someone who was the leader of a whole village and was of the eldest generation, the chief had a face that belied his years, although he'd lost his hair on top. But in recent days lines of worry were creasing his face, bracketing his mouth like two weights that would never let him smile until his village had peace again.

"But Chief..." Zaki obivously had a lot more of his opinion to give. But the chief produced a slip of paper and placed it on the table. Zaki's dark eyebrows rose while several men gaze questioningly at the document.

"We received a reply to our letter," The chief said calmly. "It seems they're sending one to our village." Judging by their expressions, the general consensus in the room appeared to be: huh? The chief's face, whose pleasant smile used to show so often before these attacks, darkened. He said with no relish, "A Claymore, that is." The resulting gasp of the men was audible, leaving nothing behind but a heavy, suspended silence.

"A... A Claymore?"

"Are you serious?"

"You want to hire one of them?" Tones were mixed with incredulous disbelief, fear and apprehension. Like yoma, tales of Silver-Eyed Witches pass like wildfire over the continent. Not human, Claymore had as much right to their trust as yoma did.

The chief's shoulders remained slumped, as if defeated by his own action. "Yes. We have no choice." He responded to their disapproval wearily. To already lose six lives in his village was a terrible burden. The chief had known each one of the victims' names; as their leader, this felt like a personal loss. The father or sons of the six dead were standing in that very room with him. With no sign of the killing coming to an end, what else could be done? Nothing within their own power. The village did not have the leisure of time to debate it. This was the joyless responsibility of the chief to respond accordingly. "They are the only ones who can detect a monster in human form." The chief explained, still in possession of his calm.

"But... But Chief, I..." Zaki still wrestled with the prospect but the chief was firm.

"Don't argue with me. I know it will cost us a great deal. But the way things are, the fate of the village is at stake." The old man steepled his fingers together and leaned his elbows on the table as if the weight on his shoulders had become heavier. "Either way, it's dangerous. And we can't go on living like this. The sooner we act, the better." Although it pleased no one, not even the chief, everyone had to finally admit that the situation was dire enough to warrant hiring a Silver-Eyed Slayer. The village could not become a banquet for yoma! In this world where humans struggled to exist, each human life was valuable.

Though Zaki's apprehension showed outwardly, and no less than the other men, the discussion was clearly over. Unease clung to his features, hazing his olive complexion. The seedlings of rumors being muttered by the other men who flowed out of the chief's house and onto the street barely registered.

"A Claymore, eh? They give me the creeps."

"Have you ever seen one?"

"Yeah, once."

"Hey, Zaki!"

Startled from his thoughts, Zaki looked up to see his little brother, Raki, loitering outside the chief's home. Zaki guessed his nosy brother had been there for the duration of the meeting.

"What are they?" Raki blurted, "What's a Claymore?"

Looking into Raki's face was like peering into a mirror that showed you the past, Zaki thought. Both boys had that same olive complexion, disheveled brown hair, lean, wiry bodies and hazel eyes. But Zaki had never earned a scar. That was what disrupted their similarities. Raki's was right beside the right eyebrow, distinct but no longer than his own little finger.

"Raki... were you spying on us?" Zaki pushed aside Raki's question.

"No! I was just passing by. I heard through the window."

Zaki was far from convinced. "Oh, is that so? You'd have to be glued to the chief's window to hear his voice."

"It's true!" Raki insisted, "I was playing behind the house when I heard you all talking. You were pretty loud."

In the pause where Zaki reconsidered if this was the truth, Raki launched his question again. That kid was always too bold for his own good! "So, what's a Claymore?" He persisted, "Could it take down a yoma?"

Zaki huffed in irritation. But he knew his brother wouldn't relent until his curiosity had been sated. So as the brothers began their walk home he divulged, "Yes. Humans created them to fight against the monsters. They belong to an organization called Claymore. They earn a living killing yoma for anyone who'll pay the fee. They're the only humans in the world capable of fighting the creatures."

"Hmm..." Raki watched the dust rise under his feet as they walked the long, narrow street. "They must be tough."

"Well... They aren't exactly human."

Raki perked. He hadn't expect his brother to know so much. Or, rather, that there was so much he didn't know about how the world operated. What else was out there, past the mines?

"They've taken the flesh and blood of yoma into their own bodies." Zaki continued, his eyes fixed someplace beyond Doga village. "By making themselves half human and half monster, they're strong enough to fight the creatures."

A bead of sweat clung to his brother's jaw but Raki didn't notice just how nervous Zaki appeared. Raki was preoccupied ingesting these facts, considering that it seemed justifiable why people didn't welcome Claymore. "What? I, I don't believe it. Really?" Raki focused: humans made Claymore. It seemed impossible to do, beyond human reach! Yet Claymores existed.

"What's more," Zaki continued, "after a lot of testing, they've found that only females adapt successfully. They say every male who has tried it died a horrible death."

Their walk had come to a stand-still but neither seemed to either notice, engrossed as each were. "Since Claymores are almost monsters themselves, they can spot disguised yoma with their silver eyes. When Claymores are about to slay a yoma, their eyes shine gold, just like the monsters'. In any case, they're called Silver-Eyed Witches, or Silver-Eyed Slayers."

"She's here!" Voices shouted.

"It's the Claymore! The Silver-Eyed Witch!"

Raki's awed expression was rattled loose. The irresistible urge to follow the others running to the end of the village road claimed him suddenly and with zeal, and he left his brother behind, calling for him to wait.

It was a beautiful day. Not clear exactly; there were clouds that dragged their shadows along the ground as they scudded across the deep blue sky. Raki sometimes wondered if the sky was anything like the sea, something he only knew as words from the mouths of travelers. The air was humid with mid-summer and baked by the sun. It didn't seem appropriate weather to usher in a half-monster warrior. Something dark and foreboding sounded more appropriate. But there she was. Dressed head to toe in armor and a pale cloak, with a Claymore nearly as tall as she was hanging from her back. A real Claymore! She stood completely still, as if daring anyone to approach her.

Raki wormed his way to the front of the crowd before he was awestruck. She really did have silver eyes. And short, pale hair. Blond, almost. By the name witch you wouldn't think that Claymores could be beautiful. But this one had a beauty that would haunt his dreams.

"She's scary." The crowd murmured.

"So that's a Silver-Eyed Witch. She's just like the rumors say."

"They look frail but they carry huge swords."

"I've heard that people started calling them Claymores after their swords."

As Raki gazed on, he saw that the Claymore didn't deviate from her one spot. She stood there as if letting the gawking village people have their fill of her. It was as if she had expected to be stared at like this. Raki guessed, what with rumors far proceeding them, that this treatment could be normal for a Claymore. Even Raki couldn't help himself; he found himself studying her, taking in her foreign-looking armor. She seemed to be wearing a single skin-tight garment beneath the sabaton and greaves, with fingerless gauntlets and vambraces, shoulder-plates and what Raki could only equate to a pleated form of fauld around her waist. He didn't know how anyone could go up against a yoma without heavier protection than this. And that claymore was a two-handed sword, judging by it's long handle and heavy five foot blade. Could she really swing it?

"Is this really a good idea?" Others making up the crowd echoed Raki's doubts aloud.

"How do we know she won't turn on us? She's half monster, after all."

"Why did the chief call for such a...?"

The voices of his neighbors and kinsmen shrank to a buzz. There were only silver eyes.

"We've got no choice. The only one that can spot a yoma in human form is someone who's part yoma. We have to trust her, even if she is a monster."

The Claymore stepped forward. She headed straight for the crowd that still stood at the mouth of the village entrance, both surprising and alarming them. The crowd hastily parted for her, giving the Claymore generous room to pass. No one spoke then. The only sound you could hear were the heavy steps of the Claymore's steel shoes. Still not having uttered a single word, the Claymore went deeper into the village.

"You... You idiot!" One boy had two fistful of his friend's shirt in his hands. "What did you go and say that for? What if she get angry and comes after us?"

The boy who had called the Claymore monster a bit too loudly only fumbled his apology. No one could be too careful. Now there were two monsters in the village.

The Claymore had gone directly to the chief's home.

"Ah... I've been waiting for you." The chief greeted, more apt to speak with the Silver-Eyed Slayer he had leased, though no less nervous than anyone else to be in her presence. "Well, then," He hastened matters, "let's get down to it. You, there!" He instructed a servant, "Get it."

The housekeeper returned with the heavy load of a bag that clinked as she shifted it in her arms. She passed the bag to the chief, who presented it on the table. "H-Here's the money we promised," He tried to smile, "It's all here. Please see for yourself..."

"Not yet."

"Huh?"

"After the job is done, someone will be sent to collect the money. You will give it to him then." The Claymore's eyes bore into him. "If I get killed... there'll be no reason to pay."

The chief shivered; it was like she had locked her cold stare onto his very soul. "Oh... I, uh... I... I see..." He stammered, unable to shed an ominous feeling that seemed to emanate from the Witch. He rose out of his chair, his hands leaning on the table. "So then... what happens now? Will it be easy finding it?"

"That depends," The Claymore promptly answered, "If the monster has suppressed it's monster aura enough, it'll be hard to detect." She turned to leave. "But don't worry, I'll sniff it out. Eventually, one of us will lie dead somewhere in the village."

When the door slammed shut behind her, the old man slumped to the floor as if the only thing that had kept him standing was the tension drawn taught by her presence. Alarmed, the servant rushed to his side. "Chief!"

"That took a few years off my life." The chief wheezed.

"Are you all right?" The woman worried, helping him up.

"It was even scarier than I expected," He further uttered, as if he didn't hear, "I thought she'd be more human. But I felt... like I was facing a monster."

Standing in the midst of the village the Claymore concentrated on sensing the yoma's aura, acting oblivious to the looks of the villages who ushered their children into the safety of their homes or stared at her outright in fascination and fear. As she walked Doga's few streets, more people disappeared from them, thinking, rightfully, it would be unwise to find themselves in the Witch's way.

The scent of yoma suddenly crashed against her senses and the Claymore's placid silver eyes appeared to soak up the golden sunset; even her pupils altered, losing their humans aspect and becoming slit's instead. Faster than any human could hope to move, the Silver-Eyed Slayer freed the claymore from the sheath between her shoulders and whipped around to confront her foe.

"Agh!" Raki yelled.

The blade sliced the air but came to a full controlled stop before it landed a scratch on the human boy. But it hovered so close to Raki's face that the sword cast a shadow over his eyes, which remained wide and unblinking. Surprise was neatly hidden within the Claymore's own features, her eyes resuming their silver shine.

Raki took a step back. "What was that for?" He whined, hurt by her reaction. "I wasn't doing anything wrong! I was just following you, that's all."

The Claymore's gaze lingered on him while she replaced her claymore in it's sheath. Then she wordlessly turned away from him and continued on her hunt.

"H-hey!" Raki called, following after her. That Claymore had a swift stride! "You're a Claymore, aren't you?"

"No." She served up bluntly.

"Huh?" Raki thought if she wasn't then his brother had his facts twisted!

"Our organization has no name. Your people thrust that name upon us."

"Oh... I see."

"Still, I can't believe it." Raki gushed, "You look like an ordinary girl. I guess I thought... you'd be big and scary." Zaki did say Claymore were half-monster after all.

The Claymore paused and turned partway to look down at him. Raki decided she must be taller than Zaki. Himself, he barely came even with her shoulders. But Raki reminded himself that he still had a few years of growing and he had promised himself to get tall!

"You're not afraid of me?" She suddenly asked.

"Huh?" Raki didn't hesitate: "No, not at all. You're just like an ordinary girl." Raki didn't see what the big deal was. Claymore didn't look anything like yoma. "Actually, you're not so ordinary," He corrected himself, a blush heating his cheeks, "You're prettier than the girls around here." He laughed a bit bashfully.

The Claymore seemed to instantly lose interest in talking. She resumed her pace striding down the street. "Ah! Hey, wait! I didn't..." This was the wrong person to put his foot in his mouth around! Was it that painfully obvious that he didn't talk to many girls? Raki thought he probably offended her.

Feeling bad about that possibility, Raki decided to follow after her and apologize. As a stranger, she could probably use some direction around the village too. But by the time he caught up to her, Raki found himself out of breath. "Where are you going?" He huffed, struggling to keep his lungs filled with air. "That leads out of the village!"

"This is the edge of the village?" The Claymore ascertained, noticing the small black shadows dotting the crumbling mountains that ridged the horizon.

Raki leaned his hands on his knees, his breathing evening out. "Yes. Beyond here are just the mines."

A sudden thwock caught Raki off-guard and as the Claymore threw herself down onto the ground to lean her back against her sword – which he realized had been stabbed into the ground – Raki gave a little jump. "What the...?" He froze with an arm raised in surprise.

"Rest time." She explained, crossing her arms and closing her eyes. "I've been walking for three days."

Raki's face dawned with comprehension. She must have amazing endurance! He looked left, then right, finding the perfect-sized stick lying nearby. He stabbed it into the ground in the same fashion as she and joined the Silver-Eyed Slayer in resting. "Heh heh heh," The boy chortled, leaning his back against the stick with a wooden creak. The Claymore only stared at him. She seemed to be considering something.

"What is it?" She finally asked. "Why are you so interested in me?"

"Well, you are a Claymore." Raki pointed out.

"Like I said," She reminded him, apparently stubborn about the point, "You picked that name."

"Oh... right." But Raki didn't miss a second beat, "Anyway, you came here to kill the yoma, right? That means you're the one who'll grant my wish."

Understanding seemed to visit the Claymore at his statement. It settled fully after he confessed, "The first people to be killed by the monster in this village... were my parents."

The Claymore's eyes widened just perceptively.

"I was there, but I couldn't do anything. Before I knew it, only my brother and I were left alive. We were covered in blood. If I was strong enough, I could avenge my parents. Now, you're the one who's going to kill it for me." Gradually, Raki's voice had lost it's innocence and now seethed with hatred for the yoma.

The Claymore watched the display impassively. "I'm only doing this because we got a request. I'm not doing it so you can get revenge."

Raki's mood reverted and he said, almost cheerily as he laced his fingers behind his mop of hair, "I know. That's just as good."

Without him having noticed it, the archways and alleys had been filled with shadows and the late afternoon had burned on into a red evening. "Ah!" He spooked as the village bell began to gong. "Oh, no!" Realizing he'd lost track of the hours, Raki quickly got to his feet. "Sorry, I've got to go. I have to fix dinner for everyone." He explained as though he worried what the Claymore thought of this abrupt departure. "We're staying at my uncle's house now, so we have to help out." He turned to leave and even took a few steps. "Oh." Realizing he had never introduced himself, the boy turned back around. "My name's Raki. What's yours?"

The Claymore didn't even look at him. "You don't need to know my name," She answered firmly, "You'll forget it soon enough."

Eh? Raki thought that was strange. Guess Claymore aren't known for being friendly. But he had no time to stick around and wheeled a name out of her. Raki ran all the way home to his Uncle's abode. Bursting in through the front door, he called breathlessly, "S-Sorry I'm late, Uncle! I'll start making dinner right away!" Since he had stayed out so late, everyone was probably already starving because of him. "I'll be done in just a..."

That's when he noticed his Uncle lying on the floor in front of him, face-down in a spray of blood. Not moving. "U... Uncle?" Raki felt rooted to the spot, shocked.

"You're back..."

"Za... Zaki!" He hadn't even heard his brother approach behind him! Raki turned, exclaiming, "It's Uncle! He's –" No, something was wrong. Zaki's face was grotesque and smeared with blood. He wore a grin that showed pointed teeth. And his eyes... they belonged to a monster.

"Yes... he's delicious." Zaki cackled. "His guts were superb!"

"Za... Zaki...?" It wouldn't sink in. It was too much. How could it be...?

"It was tough, pretending to be human, with you around looking so tasty." Veins popped to the surface of Zaka's skin, throbbing. His arms and legs lengthened; his shoulders hunch as he grew taller. Zaki began to take on a whole differentpresence, as if he was suffusing the air around him with dread. "But you never noticed, did you? Your own brother... When I ate your parents, I also took over your brother's body and mind. Because of that, I was able to use his memories and his behavior patterns. That's why you stupid humans couldn't find me." Zaki delighted in explaining, in drawing out the pain. Yoma found it very useful to look human; hunting became easy when they could blend in. Preying on a human settlement became even easier if they ate the brains of who they were impersonating. By eating the brains, they learned their victim's memories.

But this thing wasn't Zaki, not anymore, not ever... this thing had killed Zaki. And Uncle. And mother and father.

The ridges of the yoma's vertebra pushed against it's skin as the tight confines of Zaki's shirt was reduced to shreds. Was this transformation painful for yoma? Tears had begun to coalesce beneath it's wicked, golden eyes. "I was planning to stay in this village a little longer. But seeing that you've summoned that witch... I'll just devour you before I move on. She can roam here all she wants after I'm gone." The yoma's shadow swallowed Raki, who found himself unable to move, unable to respond.

"Huh?" The yoma paused, finally aware of the tears that had begun to course down it's bruise-colored face.

Raki realized them too.

"Tears..." The yoma puzzled, "It seems what's left of your brother is shedding tears." The monster's dark lips curled back cruelly. "Sweet, isn't it? Heh."

Finally everything did sink in. And Raki felt rage. He raised a fist and moved to close the distance between them, releasing a strangled cry of hatred. He would make this murderer pay!

But the yoma easily deflected him, causing Raki to hit the floor with enough force to rattle the air from his lungs and make his teeth cut the inside of his cheek. "Uh-guh," He tasted blood; it dripped from the corner of his mouth and onto the floor while he lay on his stomach. That yoma had batted him away like a pesky fly...

"Fool!" The yoma bellowed, "Did you think a mere human could stand against a yoma? We have lived among you since ancient times. You exist only as our food." It gloated, "We're the foremost predators alive, and you are our prey. Prey is in no position to fight back against predator."

As the gravity of the monster's words set in, the roof exploded over them. As chunks of wooden beams rained down, the Claymore was already in position to strike.

It happened so quickly it was all the yoma could do to avoid it by throwing it'self backward. The double-edged sword hit the floor with such force that it broke apart the stone foundation beneath. Even Raki was too shocked by the suddenness of the Claymore's appearance to cry out. The yoma recovered much more quickly. "The... the witch!" It sputtered, crouched with it's every nail and claw dug into the floor for balance.

"The boy carried the scent of yoma." The Claymore revealed, "All I had to do was follow him." So that explained why she almost attacked me earlier, Raki realized. When she had swung her sword at him, when her eyes changed, that was when she smelled...

"It's you!" Raki cried jubilantly, the thought of rescue replacing all other emotions.

But then he stopped short.

Her eyes had changed again. But her face too, in a way. It seemed darker. As if all her thoughts were focused on killing. Raki stared. So this was a Claymore...

The yoma wasn't nearly as daunted by the Claymore's murderous look. It was laughing. "That's just fine!" It said gleefully, "I'll take you on! What can a human like you do?" By now the yoma's face had lost any semblance of Raki's brother. it's expression was filled with blood-lust. "To tell the truth, I was surprised when I saw you... playing tough but being so frail. I'm not afraid of you. Mere humans are no match for yoma! What can you possibly do with that huge sword?" Energized by it's own confidence the yoma charged the Claymore who still stood with her sword pointed toward the ground. Before Raki had cried, "Look out!" The yoma had smashed both it's fists where the Claymore had stood, creating a small explosion of rock and wooden floorboard.

"Too slow..." The sudden blur of movement behind the yoma took shape. The monster registered the Claymore and her swooping sword in time enough to spare it's head but not injury. Blood spurted from a deep slice in it's shoulder. "Gyah!" It cried, "Wh... what the...? It can't be!" This was impossible. No human could ever lay a finger on a yoma!

The Silver-Eyed Slayer didn't allow the monster a chance to recover from it's shock. She rushed it head-on, a courageous act that only confused the yoma further. It slashed it's claws forward recklessly but found it swung only at air. She was behind him again, moving so fast the yoma hadn't even notice she'd changed course. With a grunt of effort the yoma evaded her blow. "How? Where did...?" Relentless, the Claymore was there again, and this time sliced through it's arm, severing it cleaning from the shoulder.

The yoma collapsed to the floor, screaming. It gaped at the bloody stump where it's arm used to be, disbelieving. "How?" It howled, "How? How? How?" The Claymore did not answer. She only stood in thick silence, her eyes burning gold. "How can a half-breed move faster than a yoma? It's not possible!"

Springing it's long legs, the yoma bounded away from the Claymore with a growl. But rather than escape, Raki found himself locked in the monster's iron embrace. "Wah!" The boy kicked and screamed.

"I'll use him as a shield! To get to me, you'll have to cut through him!" The yoma frantically devised. But it was too late. The yoma had underestimated the Claymore for the last time. She took it's other arm with such speed that all the monster could do was watch it's limb fall uselessly to the floor with the boy hostage. It looked upon it's matching stumps in delirium.

"Gah!" It shrieked. "Gyah!"

The Claymore swished her sword with a sharp flick of her wrist, casting the yoma blood off it's dripping edge, splattering the floor. The yoma looked up in terror at the ringing sound of metal. "Do you want to know how we half-breeds can slay you?" The Claymore calmly asked, firmly in control of the situation.

"Pl-Please! Forgive me," The monster blubbered, "Spare me!"

She ignored it's entreaty. "By putting monster blood into this 'frail' body... we've gained speed you can't match."

"Please! Please!" It howled, panic shaking it's voice. "Let me go! I beg you!"

"And then..." She continued, unaffected, veins in her dominate arm surfacing, throbbing with yoma energy. "By adding monster flesh..." Veins appeared in her face, where her features began to twist and her mouth now resembled a maw filled with sharp teeth, "...we've gained the strength to wield our claymore swords with one hand!"

Raki's mouth opened in horror.

"Gyaaah!" The yoma finally understood the creature it had been pit against. it's begging was desperate and pitiable, as one who knew death was assured. "Please! I beg you! Let me go! Please!"

The sword came down before anyone saw it had been raised and the yoma was rent into two halves. The pieces fell to the floor in a great wash of blood. Against the spray, the Claymore's eyes continued a brilliant, burnished gold.

"Ah... ah... ah..." Raki found himself short on breath, on sanity, his back pressed to a wall. He shook uncontrollably. She was so scary... there was so much blood... could she control that power or will he be next?

By the time the Claymore shifted her gaze and peered over her shoulder at him, she looked just the same as when he first saw her. No hideous, malformed face or golden eyes. She flicked her sword to dispel the blood and sheathed it with a resounding kashack. She left him there cowering on the floor without sparing a word.

Raki slowly began to realize he was alive. He had survived it all. He had survived alone. "Uh... Uh... ooh..." He wept, fiercely holding his knees to his chest, while the blood of his slaughtered family and their killer soaked into the floor.

"Did you hear?"

"Yeah, I heard."

"Zaki was the yoma."

"They say he was already one when his parents were killed."

"Oh!"

The men exchanging gossip at the village well were leery. It was unsettling how easy the yoma had infiltrated their peaceful village, even assuming the identity of one of their own. And then for that boy to kill his parents... it seemed like the whole family was cursed.

"Even so, that Claymore was something."

"Yes." No one had any trouble coming to that conclusion, "She took care of business the day she arrived. Amazing. She was a Silver-Eyed Witch, all right."

"So, what about Raki?" A nervousness edged the question.

"Looks like he's with the village chief."

"I heard he can't speak from the shock."

Many people were interested in Raki. Most had a lot of sympathy for him, even those who lost their own children, husbands or siblings to the monster who had impersonated Zaki. But Raki had been unable to answer questions. Although people had come to fetch him from the massacre at his dead Uncle's home, Raki continued to hug himself tightly, gripped by the stark feelings of helplessness and fear that the Claymore and her battle had imparted him.

"He's been like that ever since." The chief, his arms crossed in a concerned manner, shared with another village elder.

"Well, he must have gone through a lot. That's for sure."

The chief approached Raki and placed a sympathetic pat on the boy's shoulder. "Forget it, Raki." He urged gently. But it seemed like his voice couldn't reach the youth. The chief was truly sorry that someone as innocent as Raki had to be traumatized from this ordeal.

But it was only her voice Raki heard: You'll forget it... soon enough.

"What happened, to the girl?" The men resumed.

"Oh... She got her orders for another job and left for the next village."

Raki finally tore his vacant stare away from the floorboards and looked up.

"Actually, I'm glad." The chief admitted, "I didn't want her around for long." As helpful as her strength was in their time of need, that time was over. After yoma, Claymores were a threat to peace.

"Those Claymores are a lot like yoma." The elder agreed.

Suddenly Raki sprang to his feet and dashed from the room.

"Hey! Raki!" But the boy did not heed the chief's worried calls.

Raki sprinted down the main road, garnering surprised and perturbed looks from his peers. A few called his name. But these attempts to greet him went unheeded. Did they believe he could go on pretending everything was okay? He wouldn't have it that way.

You're not... afraid of me?

His legs began to cramp. Sweat had sprung up on his forehead. The air was so dry, his breath had gone ragged. But he had to reach the end of town in time. He couldn't let her just walk away without getting an answer.

You don't need to know my name. You'll forget it soon enough.

But that was the problem! All he had been doing was trying to forget, pretending he had! He couldn't anymore, not with his whole family dead and destroyed. He wasn't going to run away anymore. He wouldn't go on pretending.

There she was at the outskirts, that pale cape lifting and falling languidly on the limp breeze. Hands balled at her sides. Claymore on her back like a cross, glinting in the noon sun.

"Hey!" Raki shouted. "Wait!"

And she stopped. And she looked.

"I'm sorry!" Raki shouted across the distance. The flat, dusty ground seemed like it stretched forever between them, defining their worlds, but Raki wouldn't take another step. It would be a wasted chance. "You were right. I was afraid." Why was it so important to tell her? He couldn't answer that right then. All Raki knew was that the Claymore granted no illusions; had never tried to comfort him even with words. She faced the frank truth of a situation when kids like him couldn't handle it. Perhaps, Raki thought, this was the only kind of person who could fully understand. Who would never ask him to forget.

"Just like... when my parents were killed. I've been afraid for so long, but I pretend I'm not. And I've been ashamed for so long, but I pretend I'm not." The words, once his fear holding them back was severed, came tumbling out. "So... that's why I'll never forget. You killed the monster that killed my family. I'll never, ever forget you." Raki swore, gratitude and sorrow tightening around his words. "Thank you!" He proclaimed, "I'm truly grateful. I mean it. Really!"

The Claymore only stared. And then she continued on her way.

"Uh..." Raki wavered, uncertain. But then he decided after coming this far, nothing less than all his effort was required. "My name's Raki. Please tell me your name!" He refused to forget. Even if her face blurred into a vague memory, he avowed he would not forget their savior. "Please!" He owed it to himself and his family. But the Claymore didn't stop like she had before. Each unfaltering footstep made her shape smaller against the bleak landscape.

Then, unexpectedly, she answered, "My name's Clare." And Raki would swear that the flutter of her cape, the whistle of the wind and the pounding of his own heart all ceased in silent reverence.

scene I

THE SILVER-EYED SLAYER

end