「 ✦ Rimuru Tempest ✦ 」
The click of a crosswalk signal resounded through empty streets.
I found myself standing at the corner near his old apartment building—my old apartment building—watching the sun paint everything in shades of gold and amber. The late afternoon light felt warm against skin I didn't actually have, in a place that shouldn't exist.
"You look different," came that voice I knew better than my own.
I turned. There he was, leaning against a vending machine like he owned the whole block. Satoru Mikami in his rumpled work clothes, tie loosened, looking exactly like he did on any random Tuesday evening after another soul-crushing day at the office.
"Different how?" I asked, walking over to join him.
"Less... angry." He studied my face with those tired eyes. "Last time you were here, you looked like Kratos. Now you just look tired."
I laughed, surprising myself. "Yeah, well. Dying and getting thrown into another world will do that to you."
"Uh-huh." He raised an eyebrow. "Another world… what's this, number three now?"
"Something like that." I shoved my hands in pockets that materialized just for the gesture.
We started walking without deciding to. Down the familiar street, past the corner store where I used to buy lunch, past the little park where salarymen would eat their convenience store meals in silence. Everything exactly as I remembered, but empty.
"Tell me about it," he said.
So I did, even though I knew he knew about everything. About my time in the labyrinth, about Daisy finding me first, about learning to live as just... me. Not a leader, not a savior, not some destined hero. Just Rimuru, figuring out how to exist one day at a time.
"A cat, huh?" Satoru grinned. "You always were more of a cat person even when you had Ranga."
"She's got big attitude. Reminds me of Milim sometimes, except smaller and less likely to accidentally destroy buildings."
"How do you think they're doing?" The question was quieter now. "Your people."
I stopped walking. The anxiety of not knowing, of being cut off from everything I'd built—settled on my shoulders again. "I don't know. That's the worst part, actually. I died fighting Hinata, and then... nothing. Just woke up somewhere else."
"Hinata Sakaguchi." He whistled low. "What'd you even do to piss her off that much?"
"Lived, apparently." I kicked at a nonexistent pebble. "Or maybe I really was becoming something that needed to be stopped. Hard to tell the difference sometimes."
We walked in comfortable silence for a while, past empty shops and quiet intersections. The sun was getting lower now, painting longer shadows across the asphalt.
"You know what's funny?" I said eventually. "Back then, I thought I had it all figured out. Build a nation, protect everyone, create this perfect little utopia where nobody had to suffer. Like some kind of fairy tale to prove everyone wrong about coexistence."
"And what about now?"
"I know how naive that was. How arrogant." I ran a hand through my hair. "I was so focused on being the good guy that I forgot sometimes good guys have to make terrible choices. Sometimes there is no right answer."
"Sounds like you learned something."
"Yeah. That the world doesn't care about my ideals. People will still die, still suffer, still make stupid decisions that hurt everyone around them. And sometimes the only choice is which tragedy you're willing to live with."
Satoru nodded slowly. "Heavy stuff. You handling it okay?"
I thought about that. About nights spent staring at unfamiliar stars and unfamiliar skies, wondering if my friends were safe.
About the slow process of learning to value my own life again, not just as a tool for others' happiness but as something worth preserving for its own sake.
"Better than I expected," I admitted. "It's weird. I'm probably more alone now than I've ever been, but I'm also... more myself? If that makes sense."
"It does." He stopped at another vending machine, one that sold hot coffee in cans. The kind we used to drink during long nights at the office. "You were always trying to be what other people needed. The perfect leader, the perfect friend, the perfect solution to everyone's problems."
"And failing spectacularly at it."
"Yeah. But you were trying so hard to be everything to everyone that you forgot to just be you." He turned to look at me. "So who are you now?"
The question hung in the air between us. I could hear distant traffic that wasn't there, feel a breeze that existed only in memory.
"I'm someone who's learning that it's okay to be selfish sometimes," I said slowly. "That taking care of myself isn't betraying everyone else. That I can't save everyone, and that's not actually my fault."
"Took you long enough."
"Hey, cut me some slack. I was busy being a monster king."
"Whatever." He chuckled. "Though I gotta ask—are you actually planning to go back? To Tempest?"
The question I'd been avoiding, even in my own thoughts. The one that kept me awake some nights, staring at the ceiling while Daisy purred against my chest.
"I... yeah. Eventually. If I can figure out how, which I'm trying to." I looked down at my hands. "They deserve to know what happened to me. And I need to know they're okay. But not yet."
"Not yet?"
"I'm not ready. The person who died fighting Hinata... he was breaking apart. Losing himself in power and responsibility and the pressure of my own expectations for myself. If I go back now, I'll just become that again."
"And you don't want to be that person?"
"I don't want to be someone who forgets that other people's lives matter just as much as the people I've decided to protect. I don't want to be someone who thinks power gives me the right to decide everything for everyone else." I paused. "I don't want to be someone who kills first and asks questions later. You saw me almost become exactly that."
Satoru was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was gentler than I'd heard it in a while.
"Rimuru, that's probably the most mature thing you've ever said to me."
"Gee, thanks."
"I'm serious!" He turned to face me fully. "The old you—both versions—would have been planning something unnecessarily grand. Some way to fix everything and make everyone happy. This you is actually thinking about whether you should."
We'd made a full circle now, back to where we started. The sun was almost gone, painting the sky in deep purples and oranges. Soon this dream would fade, and I'd wake up in the hotel I'd fallen asleep in, probably with Daisy judging me for talking in my sleep.
"I miss them," I said quietly. "Every day. But I also know that missing them isn't enough reason to rush back and potentially make things worse."
"That's growth."
"It's scary, though."
"Same thing, sometimes."
I laughed at that. "When did you get so wise?"
"Around the time you appeared, I think." He grinned. "Funny how that works."
The streetlights were starting to flicker on, even though there was no one to see them. The eternal twilight of dreams, suspended between day and night.
"Will you be okay?" he asked. "Really?"
I considered the question seriously. Thought about Daisy's warm weight against my chest at night. About the slow satisfaction of earning my own way through honest work. About learning to appreciate small moments without constantly worrying about the next crisis.
"Yeah," I said, and meant it. "I think I will be. Maybe not happy all the time, but... okay. Myself. Whatever that means now."
"Good." He straightened up, that familiar gesture from a thousand office conversations. "Because you deserve that, you know. To just be okay."
"So do you."
"I am okay. I'm part of you, remember? If you're learning to be at peace with yourself, then so am I."
The world was starting to fade around the edges now. Colors bleeding together, sounds growing distant. The dream was ending.
"Hey," I called out as his figure began to blur. "Thanks. For showing up when I needed you."
"That's what I'm here for." His voice was already growing faint. "Don't be a stranger, alright? I'll be around when you need to talk."
"I know."
It felt weird knowing that I was technically saying that to myself.
"And hey."
"Yeah?"
"Take care of that cat. She sounds like good people."
I woke up smiling for the first time in weeks.
Daisy was curled against my side, one paw stretched out to rest on my arm. Outside the window of the hotel room, real sunlight was just beginning to creep across the horizon.
"Morning, girl," I whispered, scratching behind her ears.
She opened one blue eye, gave me a look that clearly said you were talking in your sleep again, then went back to her nap.
I lay there for a while, watching the light grow stronger, feeling something settle in my chest. Not happiness exactly, but... contentment. The knowledge that I was exactly where I needed to be, doing exactly what I needed to do.
For now, that was enough.
More than enough.