The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls (13)
Monster

I embarked on my first mission just after graduation. Immediately I was thrust into a world of fear, disgust, mistrust and hate. It has been a while since I've laid my eyes on normal people. Once surrounded by superhuman females for months, I can't help but pity the helplessness of entire villages. It's sad, really...how even the strongest of men are reduced to whimpering dogs against a single Yoma.

It's hard to feel the pity, though, when those people look at me the same way they would at a Yoma.

My first assignment involved a small town nestled between a valley. I made my entrance quietly through the forest. Only the rustle of my cape and the clink of the sword at my back kept me company. My face was calm, still, devoid of outward emotion. Inside my head I recited a steady mantra: Get in. Find the Yoma. Kill the Yoma. Get out.

My eyes hardened as I approached closer to the village. People who caught sight of me froze. Village activity ceased as more people gathered around me. But when I drew closer, they pulled back, observing me as if I'm some dangerous animal. I kept my face straight and stopped to survey the crowd. They gawked back at me, with eyes riveted to either my silver gaze or the claymore sheathed at my back.

"You have sent for me, yes?" I called.

For a few moments no one responded, as if struck dumb by my voice despite my attempt to be polite yet in control.

Finally, an important-looking man spoke up. "Y-yes, we think there's a Yoma hiding in our village. Would you like any accommodations? Such as an overnight stay or supp-?"

"There's no need."

Relief crossed the man's face for a second. Then he looked skeptical and horrified. "W-wait, what? You're going to find the Yoma now?"

"Of course." I replied. "Another day's rest is a Yoma's chance to live."

I wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. Try hard as I might, deep down I felt uncomfortable with all the fearful and hateful stares around me.

I could hear them tense as I put a hand to my hilt. I scanned the crowd again, trying to focus and pinpoint the wolf in sheep's clothing. Women clutched children to their chests. Men tightened their muscles and swallowed hard. Finally I looked at the children. Some regarded me with wide eyes. Some turned away and cried.

I was going to do a second round when I sensed an aura. My eyes snapped back to a woman holding a child in one arm. My sword flew faster than the woman's reaction. Purple blood spewed from the downward slash at her gut. I caught the child with my other arm as the corpse slapped to the ground. The villagers erupted into a cacophony of screams and exclamations.

"What? How-?"

"That silver-eyed witch just cut down Mary!" "Oh my God, oh my God-!"

The crowd instantly fell silent as I moved again. I turned my sword and flicked off the gore with a turn of my wrist. I bent down to lower the child. As soon as his little feet touched the ground, the boy pushed me away. Angry tears ran down his cheeks. His fists were clamped tight at his sides.

"Why did you do that to my Mommy?"

I returned his angry question with the firm response of a warrior, but I did my best to sound gentle. "It's my job. I had to. I'm sorry."

"No, you're not! I hate you! You monster! You killed my Mommy!"

A nearby woman scooped him up and whispered soothing words into his ear. "Come now, sweetheart. Settle down...come with Auntie. Let's get you cleaned up."

But the boy writhed and sobbed and wailed as she carried him back into the crowd.

The village leader made a nervous little bow. "I'm sorry about that. He's too little to understand."

I merely nodded. I just wanted to leave as badly as the village wanted me to. I gave the usual response: "Don't give the money to me. A man in black will stop here shortly. Give it to him then."

Without waiting for the village leader's reply, I turned my back to them and left.

My heart was heavy as I returned to the forest. Finally, free of the unwanted attention the villagers gave me. I would much rather have the cold, sharp and heavy claymore than those penetrating glares at my back. When I stopped and closed my eyes, the image of that heartbroken boy was as vivid and real as minutes before. His high-pitched voice rang in my head, pounding and hammering like knells of a bell.

"I hate you!" "You monster!"

"You killed my Mommy!"

"I hate you!"

My throat swelled. A quiet sob escaped my chest. My armor clinked as I leaned against a tree and put a hand to my furrowed brow. "I'm sorry, little one...I'm so sorry," I whispered.

Gone was the cool and hardened warrior. My humanity resurfaced, returning me into a woman guilty of murder, a woman who was once a mother, a woman who knew the sheer pain of losing loved ones. I wished I could've told him back then. How truly sorry I was for destroying what was once precious to the child. I was human. But only for a moment.

I gritted my teeth and dashed my tears with the back of my hand. I squared my shoulders and straightened my back. There's no room for love and compassion. A warrior knows only two things: the next assignment. And a rain of purple blood.