"Ten years from now, something's gonna happen for us. Something great. And then we'll finally be glad to be alive."
—Sugaru Miaki, Three Days of Happiness
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「 ✦ Shizuku Yaegashi ✦ 」
By the sixth day since the demon invasion, silence had become our most frequent friend.
It wasn't the comfortable kind of silence you'd share with a close friend during a peaceful afternoon. This was a heavy and suffocating one that pressed down on your chest and made every breath feel deliberate. It was in between every pair of shoulders and breathed through every awkward glance. It filled in the gaps between what we wanted to say and what we knew wouldn't help.
The funeral was today. All of them—my classmates, the Lord Commander who died that night. Even now, standing here in the rain, I could barely process that they were really gone.
The rain had started early morning and hadn't let up since. Maybe it was fitting. The sky seemed to understand what we couldn't put into words. Each drop that hit the ground felt like another tear we couldn't shed.
I pulled my black coat tighter around myself as I watched the ceremony preparations. Yesterday had been different—the funeral for the lower-ranked personnel had still had conversations, people sharing memories and stories.
There had been life in the grief, if that made any sense.
But today felt still and sad and grim.
"The rain's not going to stop, is it?" Kaori appeared beside me, her own umbrella dripping.
"Doesn't look like it."
The ceremony began with the traditional explosive fire magic shooting into the gray sky. For a brief moment, the tombstones were illuminated like lightning had struck—neat rows of marble stretching across the plains, each one bearing a name I used to know.
Yukitoshi Shimizu
Eri Nakamura
Daisuke Hiyama
Yoshiki Saitou
Shinji Nakano
Reichi Kondou
Kentarou Nomura
Akito Nimura
Yuyu Suzuki
Nao Arakawa
Mei Fujimuto
Rika Miura
Kotone Hoshino
Sakura Aizawa
And at the end: Meld Loggins. Even the King was buried today.
I glanced to my right and found Rimuru standing under Tio-san's umbrella. He wore a perfectly tailored and black three-piece suit, and despite the rain, he had sunglasses on. On anyone else, it would have looked ridiculous. On him, it somehow worked.
"Is he seriously wearing sunglasses in the rain?" I muttered.
"That's what you're focusing on right now?" Kaori asked.
Near Rimuru, I saw Nagumo with Yue and Shea. They weren't talking with Rimuru, but they stood close together in a way that suggested comfort. When had that happened? When had they become comfortable enough with each other to stand so close?
It wasn't my problem, I realized, and maybe it was for the better that they stopped trying to kill each other every time.
The priest continued talking, but I wasn't really listening. My mind kept going to lunch conversations, to the way some of these dead classmates would always steal fries from other people's plates, even to how Eri used to braid Suzu's hair during boring breaks.
"I don't want any more funerals," Kaori said suddenly, her voice breaking through my thoughts.
I turned to look at her. Rain had made her hair stick to her face, and her eyes were red-rimmed.
"I get you. It sucks saying goodbye, especially when it's people you once knew and ate lunch with."
No word felt adequate. How do you summarize friendship into something that fits on a tombstone? How do you explain that these weren't just casualties of war, but people who had favorite foods and stupid inside jokes and dreams about going home?
Even if some of them had been consumed by darkness...
"Do you think we'd attend any more funerals?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.
Kaori gave me a look I couldn't quite read.
"What a very strange question coming from you, Shizuku-chan." She laughed, but it sounded empty. "No, I don't think so. But that's just me being cluelessly optimistic, isn't it? If it comes down to it, I'll try my best to move forward regardless."
I wanted to tell her that optimism wasn't clueless. That hope was the only thing keeping us sane in situations like this. But I also knew that false comfort wouldn't help either of us right now. We'd both seen too much to pretend everything would be fine just because we wanted it to be.
Instead, I watched as she retracted her umbrella and stepped closer, settling under mine. Her head pressed against my shoulder, and the warmth was enough to make the rain feel less cold.
We stood like that for a while, just breathing and watching the water run down the tombstones. The priest finished his speech, people began to disperse, but we stayed.
"Just promise me I'd never have to attend your funeral, Shizuku."
"You won't. Not in this world, at least."
"Yeah. That's what I meant."
But even as I said it, I wondered if it was a promise I could keep.
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Late past midnight, things felt different.
The post-funeral gathering was winding down. Most of the guests had long since returned to their homes, leaving half-empty plates and the scent of flowers. The main hall, which had been filled with quiet talks and clinking dishes just hours before, now felt awkward and empty.
But my classmates and I couldn't sleep.
We'd gathered together, huddled around one of the tables in the corner. The food in front of us had gone cold, but none of us seemed to care. We picked at it more for something to do with our hands than out of any real hunger.
"Is it just me or has Rimuru-san become a bit more unhinged ever since he, y'know, evolved?"
I paused mid-bite and looked up. Kousuke Endou sat across from me. He'd always been the quiet one—the type who preferred to observe rather than participate. But lately, he'd been trying harder to interact and engage, as if he was afraid that silence would swallow him whole.
The table continued eating, and I realized that most of them hadn't heard him. Only Nagumo (I didn't know why he was eating with us, but it must've been Aichan-sensei who insisted) seemed to have caught it, judging by the slight tilt of his head.
"Sorry, what was that?" I asked, mostly to reassure Endou that someone had heard him.
He jumped slightly, like he'd been caught sneaking porn mags during class. "Ah—nothing! I mean—well. That thing I said. About Rimuru-san. Being kind of... you know. Unhinged and uncanny."
"I get that," Nagumo said suddenly, setting down his chopsticks as everyone turned to look at him. "It's like he's the same person but with all his filters removed."
Yue looked up from her plate with interest. "Filters?"
"Yeah. Like, before, he'd give you this look that said 'you're an idiot, but I'm too polite to say it directly.' Now he just tells you you're an idiot and that's about it."
"I also barely know the guy, but I feel the difference is pretty stark," Jugo Nagayama said this time, putting a spoonful of salad in his mouth.
"What do you guys mean by unhinged exactly?" Sonobe-san asked, genuinely curious.
"Haven't you guys noticed?" Endou seemed more confident now that people were actually listening. "Rimuru-san gave this impression as a chill guy—sassy and a little creepy-strong, but still chill. Now he's a scary kind of sassy. And a bit more snarkier."
He paused to take a sip of his iced tea. "I don't know, though. I don't know him that well after all."
"Well," Ryutarou joined in, "he did tell Kouki to fuck off just for talking to him."
Direct profanity still felt strange coming from Rimuru directly, but yes, it reminded us of the shock we'd all felt when it happened. Kouki had been trying to make some grand speech as usual, and Rimuru had just... shut him down completely.
"I think that was for interrupting his wine drinking," Kaori added with a small smirk. "But it was kind of cathartic, honestly. No offense, Kouki."
"None taken."
"I agree," both Yue and Shea said in unison to Kaori, which made me wonder exactly how bad Kouki seemed to people to earn such universal disdain.
"And he says jokes that make you question if he's joking..." Endou continued.
"He told me he was going to choke me," Nagumo said with an annoyed expression. "Since I reminded him of a damn flower, apparently."
"I think that was for the three of us," Yue added helpfully.
"Is this what they mean by a glow-up?" Shea asked, tilting her head.
I couldn't help but snort. "I swear, he used to just tell people off. Or sigh quietly. Or smile in that sort of vaguely tired way, like a teacher who regretted becoming a teacher."
"Right?" Kousuke said, catching on. "Now he's like—'you interrupt my drink, I ruin your bloodline.'"
"I don't think it's up to that point, but I get what you mean," I said with an awkward chuckle, though privately I wasn't entirely sure.
"Maybe that's just what happens when you evolve," Sonobe-san suggested quietly.
"I think," Kaori said slowly, "that maybe we're all becoming a little more unhinged. It's just more obvious with Rimuru-san because he's so powerful."
She was probably right. The recent events had shaped us in ways we were only beginning to understand. We'd all lost pieces of ourselves during the past few months, and what had grown back wasn't quite the same.
After that, the table went quiet. One by one, people began to excuse themselves. Ryutarou was the first to go, saying he needed to check on his equipment. Sonobe-san followed shortly after, saying she wanted to write in her journal.
The others followed as the hall emptied slowly until eventually, it was just Kaori and me left at the table.
"Do you think we'll ever be the same?" Kaori asked quietly.
"I don't think anyone expects us to be. The question is whether we'll be better or worse."
"And what do you think?"
I looked at the empty chairs around us. "I think we'll be different. And that's probably okay."
Kaori nodded, then stood up and stretched. "I should try to get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be another long day."
"Yeah, me too," I said, though I had no intention of sleeping anytime soon.
After she left, I sat alone in the table for a while, listening to the rain against the windows. It was well past one in the morning by the time I finally pushed back from the table. My body ached from sitting in the same position for so long, and my mind felt foggy with exhaustion.
I was heading toward the stairs when I noticed someone on the balcony. Suzu was there alone, leaning against the railing and staring out into the rain-soaked night.
Without thinking, I changed direction and walked over to her.
"It's late, Suzu. You should rest," I said as I positioned myself beside her.
She didn't acknowledge me at first, just continued staring out into the darkness. The rain had lightened to a gentle drizzle, but it still caught the light from the lanterns below in tiny, glittering drops.
"...Do you think Eri and I could've talked it out if we had the chance?" she asked suddenly.
I'd been wondering when this would come up. Suzu's best friend, Eri Nakamura, had died before she got the chance to truly talk with her. Most people would think a talk would've been a total waste of time and effort. Everyone thought Eri was too far gone for that—that her betrayal was too complete, her hatred too deep.
But Suzu cared for her deeply nonetheless. Even when Eri turned on us and revealed her intentions to brutally murder all of us from the start, Suzu still wanted to give her a chance to explain. She still believed there might be something worth saving in their friendship.
But Eri died by Rimuru's hands that same bloody day.
And I knew Suzu didn't resent Rimuru—that much I could tell from the way she acted around him. She understood why he'd done what he had to do. She just mourned the idea of having lost the chance to truly say goodbye to Eri. No, she mourned Eri herself. And it wasn't difficult to believe that among the remaining class, she was the only one genuine in her grief for the traitor.
I thought about how to respond. The easy answer would be to tell her that Eri was beyond saving, that nothing she could have done or said would have changed the outcome. But looking at Suzu's face, at the genuine pain there, I couldn't bring myself to dismiss her feelings so easily.
"That's a pretty slim chance you're thinking about," I said finally.
"I know, right?" Suzu chuckled awkwardly, rubbing her cheeks. "I'm pretty stupid, am I right?"
"You're pretty and stupid, but not pretty stupid," I said, reaching out to rub her back. "Cut yourself some slack. We still have to go home. We'll save all the heartaches then."
"You're right. I just... I keep thinking about all the things I should have said, and all the times I could have tried harder to understand what she was going through."
"Suzu," I said softly, "you were a good friend to her. Whatever else happened, whatever she chose to do, that doesn't change the fact that you cared about her. That matters."
"Does it really?" She turned to look at me, and I could see tears gathering in her eyes. "She's still dead. And I still don't understand why she hated us so much."
I didn't have an answer for that. Maybe there wasn't one. Maybe people just chose darkness, and no amount of friendship or understanding could pull them back into the light.
The power of friendship was just a thing of fiction.
"I think," I said carefully, "that some people carry pain that's too big for anyone else to fix. That doesn't mean you shouldn't try to care about them, it just means that maybe caring isn't enough."
Suzu nodded slowly, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. "I miss her. The her that I thought I knew, anyway."
We stood there for a while longer, two survivors trying to make sense of loss and betrayal. The night air was cool against our faces, and for a moment, I could almost pretend that everything was normal—that we were just two high school girls staying up too late, talking about ordinary problems.
The stars were beginning to peek through the clouds, and I took that as a good sign.