Capítulo 9: Interlude | Best Friends
You have a way of making the impossible feel easy, Rimuru. It's not just your strength—it's the way you're always there. Like no matter what happens, as long as you're around, everything feels like it'll be okay.
—Alea Triscan regarding Rimuru Tempest.
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My love language is physical touch.
Always has been, always will be. That's why, with Alea sitting right next to me on the couch, her head leaning against my shoulder, I made it my life's mission to stay as still as possible. Any movement might ruin the moment, and I couldn't have that.
I've always found comfort in physical contact—not just romantically, but with anyone I care about. It's grounding, simple, and real. So when Alea walked into my house—without permission, as usual—it didn't take long for us to end up like this.
"You're here again?" I'd said, barely looking up from the book in my hands. "When are you going to stop—" The words froze in my throat. She looked...off. Alea's usual confidence was missing, replaced by something quiet and heavy.
Now, I may be dense—so I've been told, repeatedly—but even I can recognize when someone's upset. Even after becoming a demon lord, empathy isn't completely lost on me.
"Sit down." I told her as I closed the book I was reading and put it on the tea table in front of me. She didn't say a word, just walked over, sat down, and leaned against me. And that's how we ended up here.
It was still morning, sunlight streaming lazily through the windows. Something felt fragile about the whole situation, like one wrong word might break whatever tenuous calm we had. Alea hadn't spoken much, and I hadn't asked her to. I don't want to seem like I'm acting much closer than we actually are.
"Don't you want to ask?" Alea said, not looking at me.
"Depends if you want to talk to me about it."
Alea didn't say anything, but from my peripheral vision, I could see her lips trembling.
"…I'm scared."
"…"
That caught me off-guard more than I thought it would. Alea is a warrior who's gone through countless battles and has amassed significant battle experience. She is an S-rank adventurer and is a classified Special Grade by the Kingdom of Sapin along with me. What could possibly make her afraid?
"Of what?"
A silence stretched between us, but I didn't press her. It's times like this that I really admire the extent of my patience.
"I shouldn't be talking about it, but there may be a war coming soon."
"War?" I asked, confused. "Between what? Who?"
"Between two continents."
"Ah."
I was skeptical about the existence of Dicathen being the only continent. I knew I should give it the benefit of the doubt, and I was all but certain there may be other unexplored landmasses beyond this one. But since it wasn't exactly relevant to my daily life—or my ongoing search for a way home—I'd never bothered to dig deeper.
"I've seen what war does," she said softly. "To people, to families. Even the strongest don't come back whole."
"You're more than just simply strong, though," I reassured her. "You'll be fine."
She shook her head, her arm slipping around mine.
"They plan to make me a general."
General? Her?
"What do you mean?"
Alea nodded. "I, along with five others, make up the Lances. Two for each race—humans, elves, dwarves. For years, their existence has been a secret, known only to the royal families and a handful of others. But they plan to make me one, and they'll announce us publicly next year. And with that comes the responsibilities…" she trailed off, looking at me.
She looked at me with those eyes, like she just wanted to stay at a house next to a beach and live her days without having to worry about anything. She felt needy, and she made sure I felt her neediness as she looked at me.
"…" I opened my mouth to speak, but I didn't know what to say. Here she was, an elf—the fantasy race I once had a fetish for—and an extremely attractive one at that, leaning her head against my shoulders and locking her arm with mine. But I couldn't feel even a bit of excitement.
"I'll be with you." I said, looking down to meet her gaze that sought from me something I couldn't quite name. Reassurance? Comfort? Whatever it was, I can only hope I managed to give her even a bit of it.
She smiled solemnly. "I know. Did anyone ever tell you you're dense as fuck?"
Her language caught me off-guard for a moment as I stared at her wide-eyed, but she already averted her eyes from me.
"Many times, actually." I admitted after a moment. A small chuckle escaped her lips, soft and genuine. It was the first sign of her usual self breaking through the tension, and it made the air between us feel a little lighter. For now, that was enough.
We sat in silence for a while, the kind that didn't feel awkward or forced. The kind where just being there, in each other's presence, was enough. I could feel the steady rise and fall of her breathing as she leaned into me, as well as the warmth of her hand as she massaged her thumb around my arm—and then it felt like the rest of the world didn't matter.
Whatever war or responsibilities awaited her outside this continent could wait. Alea shifted slightly, her head moving to rest more comfortably against my shoulder.
"You make it sound so easy, Rimuru," she whispered.
"What do you mean?"
"Just... existing," she said, pausing as if trying to find the right words. "You don't seem bothered by anything. Like nothing can touch you."
I frowned at that.
"That's not true," I replied. "I have my worries too. I just... don't let them show as much."
She tilted her head up slightly to look at me, her pale blue eyes searching mine. "Maybe I need to learn from you," she said with a smile.
I laughed a little. "Trust me, I'm not exactly the best role model."
Her smile widened, and for the first time that morning, she looked a little more like herself.
"Maybe not. But you're still someone I can rely on."
I didn't respond; just nodded. A soft pattering broke through the silence. I glanced toward the window, where droplets of gentle rain began tracing lazy paths down the glass. The city outside seemed to blur, the edges of trees and rooftops melting into the gray sky. The cool air that seeped through the cracks in the windowpane only made her warmth against my side feel all the more real.
"I wonder," she said after a while, "if things could've been different. If I wasn't who I am now. If I didn't have these responsibilities."
"Who would you be, then?"
She hesitated, her fingers brushing against mine absentmindedly. "Someone simpler," she admitted. "Someone who didn't have to fight for everything. Someone who could just live. You feel me?"
"…"
I could feel it in her, the yearning for something she felt was forever out of reach. And I once again found myself at a loss for what to say.
"Living's not as easy as it sounds."
She looked up at me. Her lips curved into a small, sad smile. "Again, you make it seem like it is. Like you've already figured it out."
I shook my head. "I haven't. Not really. I just... I don't know, take things one step at a time. I don't think too far ahead if I can help it. It's a pain, honestly."
"Must be nice. Not having to think about the future."
"I do think about it," I replied. "Just not the way you do. My present and future don't come with wars or titles or expectations."
"Lucky you."
"I wouldn't say lucky. But I get what you mean."
"Do you ever wish things could be different?"
It was a question I'd asked myself more times than I cared to admit. Did I wish for a simpler life? A quieter one? Sometimes. But then, I thought about the people I'd met, the bonds I'd formed, and the strange, eventful journey through worlds that had brought me here.
"Sometimes," I replied honestly. "But not enough to make me want to change the path I've taken. I think... everything we go through shapes us, even the hard stuff. Especially the hard stuff."
She was quiet for a long time, her breathing steady as she processed my words. Then, she shifted again, her arm tightening around mine.
"Maybe you're right. But sometimes I wish the hard stuff didn't have to hurt so much."
"Me too," I admitted.
"I'm glad I came here. I didn't want to be alone."
"You don't have to be," I replied without hesitation. "Not as long as I'm around, anyway."
"How about you, Rimuru? Have you ever felt alone? You know, having all that power?"
I blinked, surprised by the sudden question. For the entire year I'd known Alea, she rarely veered into personal territory like this.
"Alone? I wouldn't say that."
She turned her head, her gaze meeting mine. "Come on, don't dodge the question. You're one of the strongest beings I've ever met. Doesn't that ever feel, like—I don't know—isolating?"
"I think you're overestimating me. I'm not that strong."
"Don't. Don't downplay yourself. We both know it's not true."
I sighed, leaning my head back against the couch. "Alright, fine. Sometimes... yeah, it does. When you're strong, people tend to put you on a pedestal, like you're untouchable. They forget you're still human—well, figuratively speaking," I added with a wry smile.
Her lips twitched, but she didn't smile. Instead, she asked, "So, are you lonely?"
I glanced down at her, her face so close to mine, her expression so open and raw that it made my chest ache. And then, I said the only thing that felt true in that moment.
"Nope. After all, you're here, too."
Her breath vanished ever so slightly, her cheeks tinged with a faint pink. She didn't respond, but the way her grip tightened ever so slightly against mine told me everything I needed to know.
Yeah. We are best friends premium, alright, I thought to myself as I closed my eyes, enjoying Alea's company a little bit more. Nothing more, nothing less.
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