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Arc 01
The Demon With Tears
Chapter 02: Part 01:
The Elf's Demon Apprentice
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Heiter's voice rang through the small house, sharp and disappointed, like a father scolding a wayward child. Frieren sat there, stiff as a board, her hands folded neatly in her lap, taking it all without a word. The stoic elven mage—over a thousand years old—looked for all the world like a guilty little kid who had been caught stealing bread. Her gaze was downcast, her mouth a thin line, and she didn't even attempt to defend herself.
Across the room, Naru sat on the floor, her hands neatly folded over her knees. Her small frame was still, her blank blue eyes watching the scene unfold. With her golden hair catching the glow of the fire and those blue irises staring softly, she could have been mistaken for any ordinary human child. The only betraying feature was the tiny pair of curved horns peeking faintly through her hair, like some stubborn truth she couldn't hide.
"Frieren," Heiter's voice softened only slightly. "I don't care what you think about demons. I don't care what long-forgotten books or ancient prejudices say. You hurt her." He gave her that disappointed-parent look—the one that cuts deeper than shouting.
Frieren pressed her lips tighter, as if the weight of those words was pushing them closed.
"And yet," Heiter exhaled, a faint smile breaking his own severity, "I'm glad. Glad that you finally agreed to take her under your wing."
Frieren glanced up at him, irritation ghosting over her features. "She has no talent for magic. None whatsoever."
Naru blinked slowly, and though her face stayed mostly expressionless, her shoulders sank a little.
Frieren noticed. She sighed and added, almost grudgingly, "But… if she works hard enough, she can be good."
The little demon's eyes softened—barely—but she said nothing.
Dinner that night was simple but warm. Heiter had roasted some vegetables in a clay oven, the earthy smell mixing with the buttery steam from mashed potatoes. A rabbit stew bubbled on the stove, rich with herbs and a faint peppery bite. Naru served without being asked, her small hands careful with each bowl, though she moved almost mechanically. Frieren ate in her usual quiet way, but she caught the way Heiter hummed softly between bites, the way the stew's warmth lingered in her chest longer than she wanted to admit. The crackle of the fire made the little home feel less like a temporary stop and more like… well, something else.
Later, when the dishes were cleaned and Naru had gone to her own room, Heiter called Frieren into his library. The room was lined wall to wall with books, some neatly stacked, others threatening to topple under the weight of centuries. Candles flickered on the desk where he sat, flipping slowly through a worn volume.
"I want you to look for something for me," he said, not glancing up. "A key to immortality."
Frieren's brows furrowed. "Why the sudden interest?"
Heiter closed the book and leaned back in his chair, his eyes meeting hers with a mix of weariness and calm faith. "Because I'm dying, Frieren. I can feel it. And I'm afraid. But…" he smiled faintly, "at least God loves me."
The candlelight caught the lines in his face, deepening the shadows under his eyes. Frieren didn't answer.
When she finally excused herself, the house was quiet. She walked to her room with slow, measured steps. The bed felt too soft tonight. She lay down anyway, closing her eyes, but the image of a small, golden-haired demon with blood dripping down her face kept flashing behind her eyelids.
Sleep came late.
—oOVOo—
The days had turned quiet, marked only by the faint rustling of wind outside and the muffled coughs from Heiter's room. A week had passed, and his strength had dwindled so much that getting out of bed seemed like an impossible feat. The sun would rise, spill golden light through the curtains, and he'd still be there—frail, pale, yet with that same stubborn spark in his eyes whenever he spoke. Frieren spent hours beside him, sometimes in conversation, sometimes just in shared silence. He loved to reminisce, as if clinging to memories could hold back the inevitability creeping toward him.
He told her about battles fought, the laughter of friends long gone, and—more recently—about Naru. There was something tender in the way his voice softened when speaking of the blonde-haired demon girl. "She likes magic," he murmured, his voice hoarse yet warm. "And she works hard, sometimes too hard for her own good. Doesn't like hurting anyone… anything. I suppose for a demon, that's remarkable." He chuckled softly, though it quickly turned into a cough. Frieren handed him a cup of water, watching his trembling hands.
"Favorite food?" she asked, mostly to keep him talking.
He smiled faintly. "Something strange… she calls it 'ramen.' Always tries to make it, but—" his smile grew, "—it never quite turns out right. Still, she insists it's good."
That evening, as the last traces of daylight bled away into twilight, Heiter's gaze turned distant. "She'll live a long life, you know. Longer than most people you'll see, even. She's a demon." His eyes shifted to Frieren, serious now. "Can you… help her understand humans? So she won't be alone in that long life?"
Frieren tilted her head slightly. "I don't understand humans very well myself."
Heiter's chuckle was quiet, almost tired. "Then maybe it'll be a journey together for you both. She's stubborn… a bit of a knucklehead. But I think you two will get along."
Night descended, bringing with it a hush that wrapped around the small home. In his room, Heiter lay with his breathing slow and uneven. Naru sat beside him, her posture straight, her expression still blank, though her hands worked steadily at massaging his legs, careful and gentle. She said nothing for a long while, simply listening as he spoke. His voice was thin but carried weight as he gave her small pieces of advice, warnings about the outside world, and truths about other demons who weren't like her—demons who were cruel, cunning, and far less hesitant to spill blood. He also spoke of humans, of their kindness and cruelty both, of the need to see beyond one's own world.
Naru's hands paused. "Are you dying?" she asked bluntly, her voice quiet but clear.
There was no hesitation in his answer. "…Yes."
She looked at him for a moment, her face unreadable, and then said simply, "Don't die, 'ttebayo."
His lips curled into a sad smile. "I'm afraid that's not how it works."
For the first time that night, she moved closer, shifting onto the bed. She lay down at his side, her small frame fitting easily next to his frail body. Without another word, she reached out and took his hand in hers, her grip warm and firm, as if she could hold him there by will alone.
He didn't speak again after that. Neither did she. The room was quiet but for the soft creak of the bed as they settled, and the faint, steady sound of their breathing.
—oOVOo—
The morning sunlight was pale and cold when Heiter's breathing finally stilled. There were no last dramatic words, no grand gestures—just the slow, inevitable fading of life until there was only silence. Naru's small hands clutched his robe even after the warmth had left him. Her blank, porcelain face didn't change, but her grip was fierce, as though if she just held on hard enough, he might open his eyes again.
In her own stubborn way, she tried to bring him back, pressing her palms to his chest and mimicking the healing gestures she'd seen him use on the sick and injured. Her movements were clumsy, desperate, her staff forgotten against the wall. "Wake up, Heiter-sama," she muttered under her breath, her voice hoarse even though her expression stayed the same. "You're late for breakfast."
Frieren watched from the doorway, her arms crossed. She wasn't the kind to be easily moved by death. Over centuries, she had buried countless faces and seen countless goodbyes. But this… this stubborn little demon girl who didn't even understand how final death was… there was something in it that pressed against the old, guarded corners of Frieren's heart.
When Naru wouldn't stop, Frieren had no choice but to step forward. "Enough," she said, her voice low. With a flick of her fingers and a soft hum of mana, Naru was pulled back by an invisible force, her small body hitting the tatami with a muted thud. The girl didn't even resist. She just reached out toward him again, her fingers grasping at empty air.
The burial was simple. There was no audience, no priestly choir, no flowers. Only the two of them, and the wind whispering through the grass. Frieren dug the grave herself, each spade of earth dark and heavy. Naru didn't help—she stood behind a nearby tree, staring. Frieren didn't need to see her face to know she was crying. Demons were hard to read, but the way her shoulders trembled and her fingers twisted into the hem of her dress was enough.
When the hole was ready, Frieren laid Heiter's body inside with the same care she might handle a priceless relic. Naru stepped forward, slow and hesitant. "…Will I ever meet him again?"
Frieren looked down at the still face of the man who had once been a hero, then at the demon child standing beside her. "I don't know," she admitted.
That seemed to be the end of it. No more questions. No more pleas. Just silence.
Frieren reached into her coat and pulled out a flask, uncapping it in one smooth motion. "He made me promise," she said, before tilting it and pouring the amber liquid over the fresh earth. The smell of strong booze rose into the morning air, sharp and bitter.
Naru didn't leave the grave. She sat cross-legged at its edge, her staff resting on her knees, and began talking in a soft, steady stream. Not to Frieren, but to the grave itself. She told Heiter about her morning, about the stew she had burned last week, about the squirrel she saw in the trees. She spoke without pause, her voice even, her expression unchanging.
That first day passed, then the second. Naru didn't move to eat, didn't move to sleep. Demons didn't tire the way humans did, but even so, the stubbornness was impressive. It wasn't grief the way humans showed it, but Frieren recognized it for what it was.
By the end of the second night, Frieren's patience had worn down. She stepped out into the moonlight, looking at the small figure still sitting there. "Enough," she said again, though her voice was softer this time.
When Naru didn't move, Frieren strode forward, reached down, and simply hooked her arms under the girl's and pulled her up. Naru didn't resist, but she twisted her head to keep looking back at the grave until the door of the house shut behind them.
Frieren set her down inside. "He's gone," she said, not cruelly, but firmly.
Naru just sat there, her hands folded in her lap. "…Naru knows," she said finally, though her tone was as flat as ever.
Frieren studied her for a long moment, then turned away, her own expression unreadable. The house was too quiet without Heiter's voice in it.
—oOVOo—
A month had passed since Heiter's death, and the house had settled into a strange, almost too-quiet rhythm. Frieren had somehow—whether through persistent correction or sheer elven patience—managed to get the demon girl to start calling her "Frieren-sama" instead of "Miss."
It didn't make the place any livelier. If anything, it made conversations more peculiar. Naru spoke so little and always in the third person that the house sometimes felt like a library whose only librarian was mildly confused about human speech. Most days, Naru would be in the kitchen—blank-faced as she stirred a pot, her blonde hair tied into two short ponytails with orange ribbons that bobbed faintly with each movement. The faint scent of broth would mix with the smell of old wood, drifting through the narrow halls. Her tall wooden staff, worn and a little too big for her hands, leaned against the wall nearby.
Frieren was sitting at the table, chin in hand, watching the steam curl lazily toward the rafters when she finally spoke. "We need to leave."
Naru's stirring slowed, the wooden spoon pausing mid-circle. Her bright blue eyes shifted toward Frieren. "Naru is not leaving Heiter-sama, 'ttebayo."
"We can visit him every few decades," Frieren replied calmly. "It's a long time to most, but it's just a blink of an eye to a demon."
"That's too long," Naru said flatly, turning back to the pot. "Naru is not leaving."
Frieren's gaze softened in that subtle way only someone who had known centuries of loss could manage. "Heiter would have wanted you to see the world. You have hundreds of years ahead of you, and you're spending them here. He'd call that a waste."
Naru's eyes flickered for a moment. They were still mostly blank, but something faintly troubled was in them. "Naru promised to stay," she murmured, the spoon tapping lightly against the pot's rim. "Heiter-sama would be sad if Naru broke her promise."
Frieren sighed. "You've kept that promise. You stayed here for him. But staying forever… that's not what he meant. He wanted you to live. You can't understand the world by hiding from it."
There was a long pause. The bubbling of the pot filled the room, the only sound for a full minute. Naru's shoulders slumped, her resistance slowly fading. Finally, she nodded, a slow and reluctant gesture, the orange ribbons swaying with the movement. "...Ok. Naru will go." She turned toward Frieren, her expression unchanged, but her tone had softened. "But Frieren-sama must lock the house and the area so no one disturbs Heiter-sama."
Frieren raised a brow. "You mean a magical barrier?"
"Yes," Naru said, clutching her staff as if the thought of protection steadied her. "Make it so only Naru or Frieren-sama can come here, 'ttebayo."
Frieren's lips curved faintly, not quite a smile, but close. "...Fine. I'll make a barrier that no human can break. A barrier that will last a thousand years. But only if you promise to not make a fuss on the way."
—oOVOo—
The kitchen smelled faintly of broth as Naru set the pot aside, washed her hands in the basin, and went to the other room without another word. She began packing with her usual blank, methodical manner. She pulled drawers open, took out small objects wrapped in cloth, and carefully set them into a sturdy leather satchel. A silver mug with a dent in the rim. A faded scarf that still carried Heiter's faint cologne. An old chess set with one missing pawn. Every item felt like a piece of the air in this house, and Naru wasn't leaving a single one behind.
Her staff clunked lightly against the floor as she moved from shelf to shelf, her horns glinting faintly in the lamplight. She tied the satchel closed, then added another smaller bag over her shoulder, stuffed with letters and a few worn books.
Frieren watched from the doorway, silent.
When the bags were ready, Naru walked to the room where Heiter rested. She stopped just short of the bed, her blue eyes on his still figure. Her face stayed blank, but her voice—soft and almost hesitant—broke the quiet.
"Naru is going now, Heiter-sama. Naru… will see the world, dattebayo. But Naru will come back. Every time."
She lingered a moment longer, one hand gripping her staff, before turning away.
Outside, Frieren began tracing runes into the air, each line glowing faintly gold before sinking into the ground. The magic spread outward, slow and deliberate, as if weaving an invisible dome over the house and surrounding land.
"Like this?" Frieren asked, glancing back.
Naru nodded, then raised her staff, mimicking the motion. A flicker of light burst from the tip—only to sputter into a pathetic spark. Her blank face didn't change, but she summoned two copies of herself without warning. The other Narus—identical down to the orange ribbons—began poking the air where Frieren's magic had passed, one of them tapping experimentally with her staff as if knocking on glass.
Frieren sighed. "You're not helping."
"Naru is testing the barrier, dattebayo," all three replied in perfect unison, though one was upside down on her staff for reasons unknown.
By the time Frieren finished the incantation, the runes had fully sunk into the soil, sealing the place with a protective pulse that made the air hum faintly. Naru dismissed her copies, tightened her satchel straps, and stood by the gate.
"Now no one will disturb Heiter-sama," she said simply.
Frieren gave a small nod. "No one."