Five Years Later, Earth
The Vincom Center in downtown Ho Chi Minh City (Vietnam) was experiencing its usual afternoon busy rush. The air conditioning here always fought a losing battle against the tropical heat that leaked in every time the automatic doors opened.
On the third floor, near the designer section, someone was causing a minor commotion without even trying.
"Yeah, I'll be sure to meet you there on time," the person said into their phone, switching effortlessly between Vietnamese, English, and what might have been Japanese. "It won't be long until my flight home, and I still have a lot of farewell gifts to prepare, so I'm kind of in a rush here."
Kind of was an understatement. The person was laden with shopping bags from brands so high-class that as soon as he passed, security guards straightened their postures and sales associates suddenly became very attentive.
But it wasn't the expensive brands that made people stare.
The person was dressed in what could only be described as easy money. Tailored pants that fit perfectly, a silk shirt that caught the light just right, and sunglasses that screamed "limited edition" perched on their head.
Everything about person said money, taste, and complete confidence.
By the physique and posture, he was unmistakably male—though "boy" might be more accurate given the youthful traits. But the flowing wavy blue hair that cascaded past his shoulders all the way to his back, and skin so fair and spotless it seemed to glow under the mall's fluorescent lights made him lean decidedly toward the androgynous side of the spectrum.
People were staring. Some subtly, stealing glances while pretending to look at store displays. Others more openly, phones already out, probably wondering if he was some celebrity they should recognize.
The boy seemed completely oblivious to the attention, or more likely, completely accustomed to it.
"Mm-hmm," he continued into his phone, pausing to let a family pass. "Yes, I got the thing you asked for. No, I didn't forget. How could I? You've only reminded me about sixteen times." A small smile donned his face. "Alright, alright. I'll see you soon. Yeah. Bye."
He lowered the phone and sighed, adjusting his sunglasses. Golden eyes—unusual enough to be contacts, surely—scanned the directory board with little interest. Three more stores. Maybe four if that new watch shop had anything interesting.
A sales associate from a nearby boutique was already approaching him, professional smile in place, clearly hoping to add another bag to the collection this walking advertisement was already carrying.
The boy with blue hair glanced at her, then at his phone to check the time, then back at the associate with a sorry smile that was both charming and dismissive.
"Sorry," he said in perfect Vietnamese. "I'm on a schedule. Maybe next time."
The associate looked briefly disappointed before turning her attention to more available prey.
Just another wealthy tourist, people probably thought. Some rich kid from Japan or Korea, maybe, on a shopping spree before heading home.
And they weren't entirely wrong.
But they also had absolutely no idea who they were looking at.
This was Demon Lord Rimuru, currently trying to decide between the Cartier or the Bulgari store for his next stop.
The question, of course, was why. Why was a demon lord—one of unfathomable power at that—shopping for farewell gifts in a Vietnamese mall like some kind of gap-year student?
For that answer, we need to go back.
Five years ago.
Back to when the sky split open and heaven itself came to war.
···—–—⚜—–—···
Five Years Ago, A Week After The Final Battle, on Tortus
The garden was beautiful in the way that only post-war peace could make something beautiful. The flowers hadn't changed—they'd been blooming before the battle and continued blooming after—but somehow they seemed brighter now.
A celebration was underway. Not like the formal, stuffy ones with lots of speeches and ceremonies, but the genuine article with people laughing, talking, eating, simply being themselves without anything pressing down on them. The liberation of the mortal races from the gods' iron grip deserved nothing less.
At a round table that was a little separated from the main festivities, Hajime and Rimuru sat across from each other. Yue was asleep on Hajime's lap, her small body curled, while Tio was standing nearby with a teapot, carefully pouring Rimuru another cup.
"Thanks," Rimuru said as she filled his cup.
"Of course, young master." Tio's smile was warm. She'd completely devoted herself to him after the final battle, and no amount of protest from Rimuru had dissuaded her.
The rest of the hero party, on the other hand, was busy for their departure—packing, saying goodbyes, making final arrangements before they returned to Earth. They were excited. Well, most of them were excited.
Kouki Amanogawa was sitting alone near the garden's edge. He'd survived Rimuru's beating—though barely, and only because Kaori had worked miracles to keep him breathing. But survival didn't mean forgiveness. Most of the hero party refused to even look at him now, and those who did couldn't hide their discomfort. The awkwardness was palpable whenever he was around.
He'd manage. Probably. Maybe.
"About the terms," Hajime said, his red eye staring at Rimuru.
Rimuru straightened slightly, his business face sliding into place. "Right."
They'd discussed this before, but repetition ensured clarity. The Compass of Eternal Paths and the Crystal Key—these two artifacts were capable of bridging not just distances but entire worlds. With them, travel to Earth became not just possible but trivial.
"You're borrowing them, right?" Hajime confirmed.
Rimuru nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "I appreciate it. Really. After everything you've done—"
"Stop," Hajime cut him off. "You saved Yue. You saved all of us, multiple times. If anything, we're still in your debt."
"I don't keep score like that."
"Neither do I. Which is why we're even." Hajime's expression softened slightly. "Besides, you helped us get home. It's only fair we help you do the same."
Tio refilled both their cups without being asked, then stepped back with a gentle smile. Rimuru stared into his tea, watching the steam rise in delicate spirals.
<
Rimuru paused mid-sip. Raphael? What kind of alternative?
<
That sounds... too good to be true. What's the catch?
<
Rimuru's eyes widened slightly. What? Five years?
"Young master?" Tio asked, concerned. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, just..." He set down his cup. "Give me a second."
Why five years specifically?
<
And why single-use?
<
Rimuru absorbed this, his mind racing. But it would work? I could get back?
<
Which is?
<
Rimuru nearly dropped his tea.
"Rimuru?" Hajime's voice was sharp now. "What's going on?"
"I think I can time travel," Rimuru said aloud without a warning.
The table went silent. Tio's hand froze on the teapot. Hajime's eye widened. Even Yue stirred slightly in her sleep, as if sensing the sudden tension.
"That's..." Hajime started, then stopped. "That's insane. Even with everything we've seen, time travel is—"
"Theoretical but apparently possible," Rimuru interrupted, already thinking through the implications. If I go back to an hour before I died, I could prevent the ambush entirely. Better yet, if Tempest was already under attack at that point—which it almost certainly was—I could be there to defend it.
His grip tightened on the teacup.
"I've been gone for months. My people were left alone, while I was stuck here. If I can go back before any time passed..." He looked up, meeting Hajime's gaze. "I can fix it. All of it."
"At the cost of five years of waiting, though" Hajime pointed out.
"I've already been gone for months. What's five more years if it means I can undo the damage? If it means I can prevent the wrong before it happens?"
He stood up. "I need to think," Rimuru said. "Excuse me."
He walked away from the table, away from the celebration, toward the balcony that overlooked a cityscape. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and gold.
Five years, he thought. Five years to make sure everyone survives. It's not even a choice. It never was.
"Rimuru?"
The voice came from behind him. He turned to find Shizuku standing there, silhouetted against the garden's light. She looked uncertain—somewhat nervous, too.
"Shizuku," he replied. "What's up?"
She walked to the balcony railing, standing beside him but not looking at him. Her eyes were fixed on the sunset, though Rimuru suspected she wasn't really seeing it.
"I've been thinking," she said finally. "About... everything."
Rimuru suddenly felt something between them. "Okay," he said carefully.
"We've been close, haven't we?" Shizuku continued with a smile. "Really close. Ever since you started teaching me. And I've been..." She paused, gathering courage. "I've been trying to figure out what this is. What we are, what I think we are, or what I hope we are... and how I feel. Platonic? Romantic? Something else?"
Rimuru already knew where this was going.
"And I think..." Shizuku turned to face him. "I think I like you. Romantically. I just wanted you to know."
The sun's rays shone on one side of Shizuku's face, and somehow, it just seemed to emphasize her sincerity. This was coming from the bottom of her heart, and Rimuru could only imagine the courage it took to tell him this. His face remained neutral, but internally, surprise crashed through him.
Damn it. I was afraid of this.
"Shizuku," he said gently. "I'm sorry if I gave you any false hope or weird ideas. That was never my intention."
"I know," she said quickly. "I know you weren't trying to—"
"No, listen." He turned to face her. "I need to be completely honest with you. I don't... I can't see you that way. You're an incredible person, but you're also..." He struggled for the right words. "You're a kid. To me."
Shizuku blinked. "I'm eighteen by now."
"And I'm older. No matter what I look like on the outside, my soul is decades older than yours. The gap between us isn't just years—it's entire life experiences. To me, you'll always be someone I'm mentoring. Someone I care about, yes, but not like that if you know what I mean."
He watched her process this, saw the understanding dawn in her eyes. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed.
"I..." Shizuku shook her head, still laughing. "I kind of expected that. Honestly. You've always had this... older air about you. But, relax, Rimuru."
"Shizuku—"
"No, it's fine. Really." Her smile was genuine, if a bit sad around the edges. "I like you. That's not going to change. But that doesn't mean what we have now has to change either. I just needed to say it so I can finally just file you away to my secret diary as an ex-crush." She punched his shoulder lightly. "Though you should know, it took incredible courage to say that. So the least you could do is treat me sometime. As friends," she added quickly. "Just friends."
Rimuru felt the tension drain from his shoulders. "Hahaha. Fine, deal. I'll treat you. As much as you want, too."
"Good." Shizuku turned back to the sunset, her posture relaxing. "So what were you and Hajime talking about? You guys looked pretty serious."
Rimuru hesitated, then decided honesty was the best approach. "I'm coming with you guys. To Earth."
Shizuku froze. For a long moment, she didn't move, didn't speak, didn't even seem to breathe. Then, slowly, she turned to look at him.
"What?"
"I'm staying there for five years," Rimuru continued, watching her face. "I need that time to develop a technique that'll let me travel back to my world at the exact moment I need to be there."
"You're... you're serious. You're actually coming with us."
"Yeah."
"For five years."
"Yeah."
"But you—" She grabbed his shoulders, her eyes wide with confusion and concern. "You've been obsessed with getting home! It's always been about that, wasn't it? And now you're just... what? Taking a vacation on Earth for half a decade?"
Her voice had risen enough to attract attention. Around the garden, heads were turning. The celebration was still going, but people were starting to notice the commotion on the balcony.
"What's going on?" Kaori asked, approaching with curiosity.
"Rimuru's coming to Earth with us!" Shizuku yelled, her voice carrying. "For five years!"
That got everyone's attention.
Suddenly they were surrounded—Kaori, Ryutarou, even Hajime and Tio approaching from the table. Questions came rapid-fire, overlapping, tinged with confusion and concern.
"Five years?"
"Why?"
"What happened?"
"Is something wrong?"
"Are you okay?"
"Did you hurt your head?"
Rimuru held up his hands, calling for calm. "Everyone, relax. Nothing's wrong. This is actually a good thing."
"Then why—" Ryutarou started.
"Because this way," Rimuru interrupted, his voice carrying quiet certainty, "I can prevent the wrong altogether."
He looked at each of them in turn.
"This isn't running away. This is making sure I arrive at exactly the right moment. To make sure that when I go home, there's still a home to go back to."
The garden fell silent.
Then Tio stepped forward, her expression soft. "Then we shall make these five years worthwhile, young master. If you must wait, you should not wait alone."
"Hell yeah!" Ryutarou grinned. "Five years with Rimuru on Earth? That's gonna be wild!"
"We can show you lots of things! Everything!" Kaori added, her enthusiasm building. "Food—oh, the food!"
Even Hajime cracked a slight smile. "Hah~ guess we'll be seeing you for a little while longer."
Rimuru looked at them all—these people he'd fought beside—and felt something warm settle in his chest.
Five years.
Five years to right his wrongs before they even happened.
"Alright then," he said, his smile finally reaching his eyes. "Let's make it count."
The celebration continued, even more hyper this time. And Rimuru thought, five years suddenly didn't seem like waiting.