The Silver Fox (CH 1) (Patreon)
Content
A/N: This story is rated M for mature content not suitable for children.
Story:
This is a story I’ve been contemplating for some time, imagining a crossover between Naruto and Claymore. In this tale, Naruto is reincarnated in the Claymore universe, becoming a male warrior (a claymore/hybrid) after his parents are murdered by Yoma. Realizing that the organization would eventually eliminate him once all the other male warriors like him awaken, he decides to leave. He then encounters Teresa, who has also fled from the organization, and offers to mentor her. This marks the beginning of a pivotal change not only for the two of them but for the entire Claymore universe.
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Chapter 1: The Mountain and the Willow
The rain in this world felt different than the rain back home. It was colder, sharper. It smelled of iron and wet fur.
Teresa’s lungs burned. Every breath was a jagged tear in her chest as she scrambled up the muddy incline of the northern pass. She was small for her age, her limbs gangly and uncoordinated, weighed down by the standard-issue sword strapped to her back. It was too heavy. Everything in this life was too heavy.
She slipped, her boots losing traction on the slick shale. She slammed into the mud, the hilt of her claymore digging painfully into her ribs. She didn't get up. She couldn't.
Get up, Number 418, the voice in her head—her handler’s voice—sneered. Trash belongs in the dirt.
A low growl vibrated through the ground beneath her cheek.
Teresa froze. She slowly lifted her head, silver eyes wide with terror.
Emerging from the treeline ten meters away was a Yoma. It wore the guise of a middle-aged man, but its jaw had unhinged, splitting the face apart to reveal rows of serrated teeth. Its fingers elongated into spears of bone.
"I smelled fear," the Yoma hissed, its voice wet and gurgling. "And fresh meat. You’re one of the Organization’s little dolls, aren't you?"
Teresa scrambled backward, her hand fumbling for the hilt of her sword. She couldn't get it out. Her fingers were too numb, the angle too awkward.
The Yoma lunged.
It moved faster than a human eye could track, a blur of violence. Teresa flinched, squeezing her eyes shut, waiting for the tear of flesh.
THOOM.
The sound wasn't a cut. It was the sound of a boulder hitting the earth.
Teresa opened her eyes.
A massive claymore blade was buried deep in the mud, standing vertically like a tombstone directly between her and the monster. The Yoma’s claws had struck the flat of the steel, sparking harmlessly.
"You're sloppy," a voice said. It was a deep, raspy baritone, tired and devoid of fear. "You stepped in a puddle three miles back. I heard it from the ridge."
A man stepped out from behind the cover of the trees. He was tall, his frame broad and solid under a tattered, grey cloak that hid his uniform. A hood obscured his face, but Teresa saw the flash of silver eyes—dimmer than hers, darker.
The Yoma shrieked, retracting its claws. "A male? The Organization stopped making males generations ago! You’re a ghost!"
"I'm a nightmare," the man grunted.
The Yoma roared and swung again, a horizontal slash meant to bisect the stranger.
The man didn't dodge. He didn't block in the traditional sense. He simply stepped into the swing.
He shifted his weight, dropping his center of gravity. He caught the Yoma’s wrist on the crossguard of his planted sword, using the blade as a fulcrum. With a sickening crunch, the leverage snapped the Yoma's forearm backward.
The monster howled, but the man was already moving. This wasn't the graceful, dancing swordplay Teresa had been taught. This was a brawl.
The man released the hilt of his sword, leaving it planted in the ground. He grabbed the Yoma’s broken arm with one hand and seized its throat with the other. He didn't use Yoki. He didn't flare with energy. He just used simple, brutal physics. He twisted his hips and slammed the creature face-first into the flat of his own standing blade.
CRAAAAACK
The Yoma’s skull caved in against the cold steel. It slumped to the muddy ground, twitching.
The stranger didn't hesitate. He gripped his sword handle, ripped the blade from the earth in a spray of mud, and brought it down in a chopped, efficient arc. The Yoma’s head rolled away.
Silence returned to the mountain pass, save for the drumming rain.
The man shook the blood off his blade with a sharp flick—a gesture that seemed agonizingly familiar to him—and sheathed it on his back. He turned to look at Teresa.
He pulled down his hood. He had messy, sun-bleached blonde hair that stuck to his forehead, and strange, whisker-like scars on his cheeks. He looked... bored.
"Well?" he asked, staring down at her. "Are you going to lay in the mud all day, or are you going to tell me why a trainee is running toward the Northern Wastelands with no supplies?"
Teresa found her voice. It was small and trembling. "I... I ran away."
"Obviously." The man crouched down, resting his elbows on his knees. He wasn't radiating the terrifying Yoki pressure of the other warriors Teresa had met. He felt like a stone wall—quiet, immovable, safe. "What's your name, kid?"
"Teresa."
"Teresa," he tested the name, glancing at the dead Yoma, then back to her. "I'm Naruto. You have two choices, Teresa. You can go back down that mountain and let the Organization execute you for desertion. Or..."
He stood up and turned his back to her, starting to walk up the path.
"Or you can follow me. But if you follow me, you stop crying. Crying wastes water, and it clouds your eyes. I don't train people who can't see."
Teresa looked at the dead monster, then at the broad back of the man walking away. He moved with a strange gait, heavy but silent. He hadn't used Yoki. He had killed a Voracious Eater with his bare hands and a piece of metal.
She scrambled to her feet, ignoring the pain in her ribs, and ran to catch up.
Chapter End
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A/N: I've been thinking about this idea for a while and wanted to share it. Claymore is an underrated anime and manga that deserves more recognition. It's dark and filled with action. I'd love to hear your thoughts on it!