Evening falls, and I start dinner preparations. Aura's been handling it lately, so it's been a while. No cutting corners—today's special for those two. I roll up my sleeves, determined to make it fitting.
"…?"
Himmel's restless pacing douses my focus. Since noon, he's been like this—stopping, starting, sighing at the window. Hardly the world-saving hero. He's worried sick about the two who left. He's like a husband abandoned by his wife and child, but I keep that to myself.
"Calm down. It's unlike you."
"Am I that obvious?"
"Obviously. Sit. You're making me antsy."
"Sorry, Eisen."
He hadn't noticed his own agitation. With a sheepish look, he takes the chair I offer. Himmel's always been excitable, prone to detours, but this is different. It's a human adult's inevitable struggle. I've been there. My role is to support him.
"I get you're worried, but they're demons. They have things we can't understand."
"I know… I'm not myself lately. Since Aura and Linie came, it's been like this. Different from adventuring."
"Adventuring's easier for you."
"Spot on, Eisen. Can I call you Dad?"
"Pass. I don't need a kid this big."
He's joking now, calming down. But he's still uneasy. As a human, his perspective differs from us long-lived types. Demons are unlike dwarves or elves like Frieren. They have their own bond. If Aura needs to talk to Linie alone, we respect it. Waiting is our privilege as long-lived, but for Himmel, human time drags. It's not like forging ahead in adventure.
"Don't overdo it, Himmel. You don't have to carry everything. We're comrades."
He doesn't need to bear it all. That night's tragedy with the demon child was our shared sin. We can't atone, but we can share the burden. Saving Aura and Linie was our goal. He realized family wasn't the way—friendship was. Very Himmel.
"Thanks, Eisen. I'm not alone. You all help me. Heiter's useless half the time, though."
"You're no better, drinking with him. Overdo it, and Aura'll ditch you."
"Funny, does she even have charm to ditch?"
He's seen through, as always. Aura might rein him in—perfect for him, though they'd never admit it. He doesn't see her charm.
"You really saved me this time. Aura was one thing, but Linie too. Glad you were there."
"Quite the line. Didn't expect you to take a disciple."
"Me neither. But I wanted to try."
If I were a woman, I'd misread that. Even as a man, it's close. Linie as a disciple, not a daughter, surprised me. Rivalry played a part, but Himmel's not that petty. He's TOO not the mentor type. He smirks, aware.
"Remember, Eisen? Frieren said her future self took a disciple."
He speaks, gazing far off, thinking of her.
"Yeah, I couldn't believe it."
Five years ago, mid-Demon King quest, Frieren wanted to analyze the Goddess's Monument. Touching it, something unbelievable happened—her consciousness from eighty years later emerged.
For a week, we traveled with future Frieren. She revealed she'd taken a disciple, as shocking as a divine miracle.
"So I thought, if Frieren did it, I should too."
"Still competitive."
Rivalry, sure, but he was thrilled by Frieren's growth. Envious, maybe.
"You're one to talk. You asked Frieren if she'd take a disciple."
"True. She said they'd just die soon, but eighty years later, she has one. Life's unpredictable."
I recall that night after defeating the Demon King, back in the capital. I asked Frieren about disciples, saying travel's better with company. Too soon for her, an elf with endless years. She didn't get it, but that was fine. I knew it'd reach her eventually.
Like Himmel, I wanted a disciple. Uncharacteristic, but if Frieren did it, why not? Himmel feels the same.
"That time was wild. Frieren bawling was uncontrollable. Rivaled her three-day tantrum over being called old."
"Heiter panicking more than Frieren is what I remember."
Himmel grimaces, half-laughing. Future Frieren was a mess—dazed, then sobbing, clinging to Himmel. Her crying matched that old tantrum. Heiter, more frantic, tried healing magic and candies, doting as always.
But we—Himmel, Heiter, and I—quickly realized it wasn't just shock. Frieren kept repeating:
"I'm sorry."
Sobbing, she apologized to Himmel, to us. We couldn't grasp why. She didn't explain. We guessed we'd fail to defeat the Demon King, dying, leaving her alone. So we didn't pry about the future. Yet—
"She let slip about the disciple. Should've been a secret."
"So Frieren. But I'm glad she's not alone in the future, traveling with others."
"I'm probably still alive, Himmel."
"My bad. We're good for a while, then."
Frieren, true to form, spilled future secrets. She hadn't changed, and that warmed Himmel's smile—more than usual. Knowing she wasn't alone relieved him. He'd left statues to ensure it, half for himself. Eighty years from now, I might meet her disciple. Something to look forward to. Still—
"Himmel, looking ahead is your strength, but also your flaw. Cherish now. We're still here."
A comrade's, a friend's warning.
Frieren's tears—I understood after our journey. We defeated the Demon King, none lost. A perfect outcome. But her tears weren't about our deaths.
She likely never reunited with Himmel.
Maybe they did, with their half-century meteor shower promise. But her tears, her regret, meant something else. The wall long-lived beings face with humans—she stumbled, regretted. I know that pain. Words don't teach it; experience does.
Himmel knows best. He sensed her tears' reason: he'd never truly connect with her. Time's too short. So he gave her the mirror-lotus ring, hoping it'd reach her someday, even after seeing her future self.
"Of course. Frieren might show up anytime. Plus, Aura and Linie—I've got plenty to do."
Himmel declares, unwavering, as a hero. Not just the future, but now—his bond with Aura and Linie, his responsibility. He loves detours, but to him, every path is right. He savors his life and others', a lesson from our ten-year, foolish, joyful journey.
"Back in the village, Linie's greeting rounds come first. Everyone'll be shocked, but Stroh and Lily will love it. I'm thinking of building a house. Borrowing the inn forever feels wrong. With Linie, it's perfect timing. Good idea, Eisen?"
"Seems I worried for nothing."
"What'd you say, Eisen?"
"Nothing… you're a dangerous man."
Himmel's enthusiasm ruins my sentiment. Scratch that—half of Frieren's tears might be his fault. Aura and Linie will deal with this long-lived-killer of a man. Frieren's trouble, but Himmel's just as bad.
As a fellow long-lived, I'll support Frieren and Aura's group, keeping Himmel in check as a comrade, dreaming of that unseen future disciple.
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