Rimuru had always been good at blending in.

Across multiple lives, countless situations, and an entire spectrum of social landscapes, he had prided himself on his adaptability. It didn't matter where he was— an office, a medieval kingdom, or a battlefield— he could talk his way into or out of just about anything.

At least, that's what he thought.

Because as he and Goblin Slayer wove through the bustling Tokyo sidewalk, an unsettling realization crept up on him.

Nobody was acknowledging him.

"Sumimasen!" Rimuru called out, while stepping into the path of a businessman in a crisp navy suit. "Kono atari de ichiban oishii rāmen-ya wa doko desu ka?"

The man didn't so much as glance up; his attention fixated on the glowing screen of his phone, as he maneuvered around Rimuru with the practiced ease of someone accustomed to ignoring the world around him.

Rimuru blinked, a slight frown tugging at his lips.

'Okay, rude. But maybe he was just busy.'

He kept walking, scanning the crowd for someone more approachable. A woman in a pencil skirt and heels was the next likely target.

"Ne, chotto ii?" He tried, while flashing an easy grin at her. "Koko no chikaku ni pawn shop ga arimasu ka?"

She breezed past without breaking stride; her expression frozen in polite, impersonal indifference, like he was nothing more than background noise.

Rimuru's eye twitched.

'Alright, maybe my approach is too formal. Time to switch tactics.'

A group of high school girls soon strolled by, giggling amongst themselves. Their pressed uniforms, neatly tied ribbons, and the colorful key chains dangling from their bags told him everything he needed to know— chatty, social, and exactly the kind of people who'd respond to a casual question.

'Perfect. Teenagers love random interactions, right?'

He put on his friendliest face. "Konnichiwa! Jitsu wa chotto michi ni mayotte—"

The nearest girl flicked her eyes toward him, barely sparing a glance before whispering something to her friend. The whole group suddenly picked up speed, practically speed-walking away as if he had just asked if they wanted to join a cult.

Rimuru's smile faltered.

"… What the hell?"

Beside him, Goblin Slayer had been observing the exchange in complete silence. Now, at last, he spoke. "They are ignoring you."

Rimuru shot him a flat look. "Yeah, thanks for the groundbreaking analysis." He exhaled sharply, while shoving his hands into his pockets. "Seriously, what is wrong with these people? It's like I don't even exist! I mean, sure, I don't exactly look Japanese right now, but come on— my accent's fine!"

Goblin Slayer offered no insight, nor did he seem particularly interested in the mystery. His focus had already drifted elsewhere, his sharp gaze sweeping over their surroundings with quiet intensity.

Something about this place unsettled him.

It wasn't fear. Fear was a familiar thing, a tangible sensation sharpened by the presence of monsters lurking in the dark. This was different— an unease that gnawed at the edges of his instincts, whispering that something was off.

He watched as a man in a bright pink suit and a matching fedora strutted past, his presence utterly unremarkable to the crowd despite his absurd attire.

Further ahead, a group of businessmen walked in perfect sync, their eyes glued to their phones as they maneuvered around obstacles without a single glance up.

And then, towering above them, was the glowing advertisement on a massive digital billboard. The screen shifted between images, displaying a cheerful woman in a lab coat extolling the virtues of a new smartphone, her voice a smooth, artificial cadence meant to lull rather than inform.

Goblin Slayer's eyes lingered on it. His posture stiffened.

"… That is a talking wall."

Rimuru, still mildly bitter about being ignored, snorted. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"This place is…" Goblin Slayer hesitated, while searching for the right word. "Unnatural."

The slime then raised an eyebrow at him, before repeating back, "Unnatural?"

Goblin Slayer tilted his helmet slightly, as if carefully considering his phrasing. "Yes."

The slime opened his mouth, ready to counter with something snarky, but found himself pausing.

'Honestly? He's not wrong.'

The sheer artificiality of it all— the cold detachment of the people, the overwhelming sensory input, the way everyone seemed so deeply immersed in their own little world— he could see how someone like Goblin Slayer, whose entire life had been shaped by survival and hyper-awareness, would find this whole situation off-putting.

Goblin Slayer, meanwhile, continued scanning his surroundings— his muscles coiling with an almost imperceptible tension.

The clothing, the technology, the way no one seemed to notice or care about anything beyond their personal bubble —everything about this place felt dangerously careless.

His gaze landed on a man in a flashy suit, his fedora cocked at an angle as he gestured animatedly to a woman in a sequined dress. Their exaggerated movements and laughter made them stand out, yet no one gave them a second glance.

"… Their clothing is impractical," he observed flatly.

Rimuru smirked. "Welcome to modern fashion, buddy."

Goblin Slayer barely acknowledged the remark, his attention already shifting to the pedestrians at the crosswalk. Every single one of them had their heads down, eyes glued to their phones as they stepped onto the street without hesitation.

"... They're not paying attention to their surroundings."

"They don't have to," the slime rebutted, before nodding toward a streetlight. "Traffic laws keep them safe. No one's gonna run them over unless they want a hefty lawsuit."

Goblin Slayer remained unconvinced. He turned his attention back to the road just in time to see a taxi speed through a puddle, sending a wave of dirty water dangerously close to a pair of office workers.

Neither of them flinched.

Rimuru chuckled. "Look, man, I get it. This whole setup probably looks like a cultural apocalypse to you, but you're gonna have to get used to it. This is just how things are here."

The armored man didn't reply, but the slime could see the way his fingers flexed slightly— a habit he was beginning to recognize as the swordsman's subconscious urge to grip his weapon.

And then, out of nowhere, a hand tapped him on the shoulder.

Goblin Slayer reacted instantly.

His body shifted, weight adjusting on instinct as he turned sharply, prepared to assess the threat—

But it wasn't an enemy.

Instead, what he saw before him was a cluster of young men— all decked out in elaborate fantasy costumes— approaching them with an air of barely contained excitement.

The one in the center, draped in a flowing black-and-gold cloak, grinned broadly. "Yabai! Sono armor, maji de tsukutta no ka?"

Goblin Slayer turned his head slightly. He recognized the language, but the words were unfamiliar, their meaning lost on him.

The cloaked man pressed on, gesturing animatedly. "Sugoi na! Sono katana wa honmono?"

Goblin Slayer remained silent, his expression unreadable beneath the helmet. He had no clue what was being said, but the group's enthusiasm was undeniable.

One of them— a tall, slender figure with long blond hair and pointed elf ears— stepped closer with a playful smirk. His green tunic and leather armor gave him the look of a ranger, though the exposed midriff seemed rather impractical for any real combat.

The elf cosplayer winked. "Kimi wa, cosplay ka?"

The armored man simply stared back at him in silence.

Rimuru, who had been watching from the side, sighed. 'Yeah, this was going nowhere fast.'

Before the slime could step in to translate, Goblin Slayer simply stated, in his usual flat, matter-of-fact tone, "I do not speak Japanese."

The group froze.

Then, almost instantly, the elf's eyes widened in realization. "Ohhh! You're a foreigner?" He asked bemused, with his voice shifting effortlessly to perfect English. "My bad, man! We thought you were local."

The others nodded, switching languages just as easily.

The cloaked man chuckled. "Yeah, that explains why you were talking kinda weird. We figured you were just staying in-character or something."

Goblin Slayer's head tilted slightly. "In… Character?"

The wizard cosplayer— short, with messy brown hair and a long blue robe— nodded eagerly. "Yeah! We thought you were roleplaying! You know, staying in character for your cosplay."

Rimuru huffed a small laugh. "Oh yeah, trust me, he's very committed."

Goblin Slayer turned his helmeted gaze toward Rimuru. "… Cosplay?"

The elf's smirk widened. "I see you're a bit of a method actor, aren't you?"

Rimuru decided to steer the conversation before this went further off the rails. "Anyway, we're kinda new around here. Think you guys can help us out? We're looking for a pawn shop."

The wizard perked up. "Oh! Hold on, I'll check." He said, before reaching into his robe like he was about to pull out a spell component— only to produce a sleek, modern smartphone with three cameras on the back.

Rimuru's eyes locked onto the device instantly.

The Dungeon Master cosplayer, who had been observing their interaction with clear amusement, grinned. "What, never seen an iPhone before?"

Rimuru swallowed.

"… What model is that?"

The wizard didn't look up as he scrolled. "iPhone 15."

Silence.

Rimuru's breath hitched.

"… Fifteen?" The slime finally asked, with his voice strained, as if he wasn't sure he had heard correctly.

The wizard shrugged. "Yeah. Well, actually, I should've waited for the iPhone 16, but, you know, impulse buys."

Rimuru's entire body stiffened.

Slowly, he turned his head toward Goblin Slayer. Then back at the cosplayers. Then back at the phone.

"… I'm sorry. The iPhone-what?"

"The sixteen," the wizard repeated casually. "They released it last year."

Rimuru's left eye twitched, "T… They've made SIXTEEN iPhones?!"

The Dungeon Master cosplayer grinned. "Dude, we're on the eighteenth generation— not sixteenth."

Silence.

Rimuru's pupils shrank.

Then, in the flattest, most deadpan voice imaginable, he muttered, "What the actual hell?" And before he could stop himself, he half-joked, "Hey, uh… W-What's the date?"

The Dungeon Master chuckled. "Hah, what, you time travelers or something?"

Rimuru forced a laugh. "Y-Yeah, totally."

The wizard cosplayer didn't seem fazed. "It's the fourth of April, weary temporal voyagers— 2025! Oooooo~!"

And just like that—

The ground beneath him seemed to vanish.

His stomach plummeted.

His breath hitched.

'... 2025?'

The words looped in his mind like a broken record, his brain struggling to process them.

'Ten whole years.'

'Has it really been that long?'

'What the hell else did I miss?!'

Technology had advanced while he'd been off playing hero in another world. But the weight in his chest had nothing to do with smartphones.

His family.

His breath caught.

'Mom… Dad.'

A sickening twist of guilt knotted in his stomach.

'They think I'm dead.'

He had been murdered— stabbed to death in the middle of the street, his blood pooling on the pavement.

'Did they ever find the killer?'

'Did they ever get justice?'

'Did they move on?'

Or worse— 'had they never recovered?'

Had they spent the last decade mourning a son who had been too busy playing fantasy kingdom to even think about them?

The thought hit him like a punch to the gut.

'… Are they even still alive?'

How had he never thought about this before?

'… How could I have been so selfish?'

The weight of it pressed down on him, suffocating. But none of it showed on his face.

Instead, he forced a chuckle, rubbing the back of his head. "Man," he said, voice light and easy, "I… I really missed a lot, huh?"

The cosplayers laughed, throwing out comments about their "time-traveling bit." Rimuru played along, nodding and grinning like it was all just a joke.

But Goblin Slayer?

Goblin Slayer was watching him.

Not in an obvious way— his stare wasn't prying or demanding. But Rimuru felt it.

He had noticed, but he didn't say anything. Didn't press. But something in the slime's reaction had caught his attention.

"— Hey, man," the elf cosplayer suddenly spoke up, turning toward Goblin Slayer with a grin. "Mind if I get a selfie?"

Goblin Slayer's helmet tilted slightly. "… A selfie?"

The elf lifted his phone. "Yeah, just a quick picture. Your cosplay is insane— easily the best I've seen. Seriously, who made that armor? A blacksmith?"

"Yes," Goblin Slayer answered automatically.

The elf laughed. "Man, you really do stay in character!"

Goblin Slayer blinked. "… I still don't understand what you meant by that."

Still distracted by his own internal crisis, Rimuru waved a hand lazily. "Just say yes, dude."

Goblin Slayer considered this for a moment, then gave the cosplayer a stiff nod. "You can have a selfie."

The elf grinned and threw an arm around Goblin Slayer's shoulder, leaning in close to snap the picture.

Rimuru swore he heard Goblin Slayer's armor creak.

"There we go!" The elf checked the photo, nodding in approval. "Hell yeah, I'm tweeting this pic right now!"

Goblin Slayer just stared.

"That's great," Rimuru muttered, exhaling through his nose. "But, uh, not to be rude or anything— can we get those directions now?"

"Oh, right! My bad, man," the wizard cosplayer apologized, before turning his phone toward them. "There's a place a few blocks from here— "Kobayashi's Treasure Exchange." Kinda sketchy reviews, but they'll take just about anything."

While the slime didn't love the word 'sketchy,' it seemed as though that was the best lead they had. "Alright, cool. Thanks, guys."

After giving them parting waves, Rimuru nodded in thanks, before turning away. Goblin Slayer then followed silently beside him— the two of them stepping back into the unrelenting flow of city life.

The neon lights flickered against the slick pavement, stretching shadows along the bustling street as people moved past, their umbrellas shielding them from the light drizzle. The hum of engines and distant chatter filled the air, yet despite the noise, there was a silence between the two out-of-place travelers.

And for a while, neither of them spoke.

Rimuru walked slightly ahead, his usual easy going demeanor dulled by something heavier— something that was gnawing at the edges of his mind. Goblin Slayer followed at his side, silent, watching.

Then—

"… You are troubled."

It wasn't a question.

Rimuru exhaled sharply, slowing his pace.

He glanced at Goblin Slayer, who wasn't even looking at him. The armored man just kept walking— his steps as steady as ever— but his words were careful, and deliberate.

"... That obvious, huh?" The slime asked, while forcing a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Goblin Slayer nodded. "Yes."

The slime then sighed, before reaching up with one hand to rub his forehead. "Yeah. I guess I'm… Kind of dealing with some shit right now."

Goblin Slayer didn't reply, didn't push. He just waited.

And strangely, that made it easier.

Rimuru hesitated for only a moment before letting the words spill out.

"I… I didn't realize how much time had passed," he admitted. His voice felt heavier, like every word carried weight he hadn't noticed before. "I used to think I had a pretty good handle on things. But now? Now it's only just now hitting me— I haven't thought about my real parents in years. My mom. My dad. Or hell, even my brother."

The slime swallowed, with his voice tightening. "... What kind of person forgets their own family?"

Goblin Slayer remained silent for a long moment before finally speaking. "... A person who had no choice but to move forward."

Rimuru then stopped walking altogether, with his armored companion halting beside him as well.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The city hummed around them, indifferent to the turmoil in the slime's chest.

Then, quietly, Rimuru said, "I… I don't even remember their faces anymore."

The admission stung more than he expected.

"I mean… I can recall some things if I really try," he continued— forcing himself to confront the truth he'd been running from. "My mom's voice, kind of. My dad… He used to ruffle my hair. My older brother always looked out for me, always made me feel safe. I think he was kind of a pain in the ass sometimes, but… I loved him." He reminisced with frustration towards himself, as he clenched his fists. "But when I woke up in another world as a slime, when I started building my new life… I barely even thought about them."

Goblin Slayer didn't respond immediately. Instead, he asked, "Did you ever have the means to check on them?"

"… No." Rimuru admitted, while looking down at his feet. "Not in the beginning, at least. But later on? When I had magic that could bend reality itself— I probably could have found a way. And yet…"

He trailed off.

Goblin Slayer filled in the silence. "... You didn't try."

Rimuru closed his eyes. "N-No… I didn't."

They then began walking once more, with the weight of the conversation pressing down on them.

And then, Rimuru laughed— bitter and self-deprecating.

"I let go of them too easily," Rimuru muttered, while still staring at the ground. "That's the worst part. It wasn't even hard for me. I got killed, woke up in a new body, and just… Moved on. Like my old life didn't even matter." He mused, before laughing again, but there was no humor in it. "I really am a selfish prick down to the core..."

Goblin Slayer shifted slightly. "Why do you say that?"

Rimuru hesitated, his throat tightening. "... Because I have a family back in Tempest," he admitted. "And unlike before, I… I really haven't stopped thinking about them since I came here."

The thought burned in his chest like an ember refusing to go out. "I know I already said it, but I have people there I care about. People who are waiting for me to pop-back up, like I always do, but…" He trailed off, with his voice softening as he suddenly spoke, "There's a girl— Shinsha…"

The name alone sent a pang through his heart.

"… She calls me her papa, y'know?" He mused. Before shaking his head inwardly. "A-And I really do care about her, like she's my own daughter. But uh… Now, I'm questioning whether or not I ever deserved that, but… Still she's family. And then there's Shion, Benimaru, Shuna, Soei, Ranga, Diablo… I could go on and on. With that being said… I don't think I can ever go back to see any of them again— not this time…"

Goblin Slayer was silent for a moment. Then, simply, he asked, "Why?"

Rimuru gritted his teeth. "... Because of what I am— what I've become," the slime exhaled, with his yellow eyes darkening, "I got too strong, you see."

Goblin Slayer shifted slightly at that, but he didn't speak. He didn't ask how getting stronger could be a problem, but Rimuru could tell he was thinking it.

The slime then shook his head, all while chuckling to himself darkly. "Sounds stupid, right? Getting stronger is supposed to be a good thing. You survive, you protect the people you care about, you make the world a better place." He vented, before swallowing the lump that had building in the back of his throat. "Except, apparently… I went too far."

He thought back to the gods. Or whatever they were.

Beings beyond comprehension, beyond divinity itself. Things that existed outside the framework of existence.

And they told him, in no uncertain terms—

"You are collapsing the foundation of all things."

"I… I don't know if they were telling the truth or not," he admitted. "What I was told is that my existence itself was becoming a problem. That just by being, I was unraveling the world I came from." He explained, with his voice beginning to waver. "And… If I went back— if I tried to fix it—" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "— There's no guarantee it wouldn't make things worse."

The rain continued to fall around them.

The city continued to buzz with life; people moving past them, umbrellas swaying, voices overlapping. The world moved on, uncaring of the war raging in Rimuru's heart.

Goblin Slayer finally spoke. "… So, you don't know if you can go back?"

"Y… Y-Yeah," Rimuru nodded. "… I don't."

"But if you could?"

Rimuru's breath hitched.

If he could just walk back into Tempest, back into the life he had built— back to everyone waiting for him—

His heart screamed for it.

But then—

He saw it.

"Threads of reality fray around you."

"The people you cherish— they will soon cease to exist."

Rimuru swallowed hard. His thoughts churned, tangled in knots of doubt and guilt.

"I… I don't know if it would be the right thing to do."

Goblin Slayer was quiet. The steady patter of rain filled the space between them, the neon-lit street reflecting in the puddles at their feet. Then, finally, he asked, "But if there were no consequences, would you go back?"

Rimuru's hands clenched at his sides.

He wanted to say yes. To say he'd return in a heartbeat. That he'd take the first chance he had to see them again— to tell them he was alive, that he hadn't just vanished into nothing.

But the words wouldn't come.

Because the longer he thought about it, the heavier the weight in his chest became.

"If I go back…" he started, then hesitated. His voice was quieter this time. "If I even try to go back… it could destroy everything."

Goblin Slayer didn't respond right away, but Rimuru could tell he was listening.

"At least if I stay here," Rimuru continued, "they can move on. Maybe not now, but eventually." He let out a breath. "I hope."

He knew it wasn't that simple. The thought of his people scrambling, panicked, trying everything they could to find him— rescue him— made his chest feel tight.

He could picture it too easily. Benimaru trying to keep everyone together, while barely keeping himself together. Shuna comforting the worried while hiding her own grief. Ranga sniffing the air restlessly, refusing to rest, as if his sheer determination could bring Rimuru back.

And Veldora.

He could imagine the dragon tearing through worlds to find him. Maybe even succeeding.

And if he did— if any of them did— what would happen? Would their world collapse? Would they cease to exist?

The thought was unbearable.

Rimuru let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. "Bet they're making a mess of things." His tone was light, but there was no humor in it. "They always were stubborn."

Goblin Slayer still said nothing.

Rimuru exhaled slowly, his shoulders tense. "Maybe this is what I deserve."

At that, Goblin Slayer's posture shifted just slightly. Not enough for most to notice, but Rimuru had gotten good at reading him.

Then, quietly: "You could still see them."

Rimuru blinked, his brows furrowing. "What?"

Goblin Slayer didn't immediately elaborate. He adjusted his sword, kept walking, as if giving Rimuru time to process. Then, finally, he clarified.

"Them. The ones you never got to say goodbye to."

Rimuru froze for half a step. A chill ran down his spine, but he masked it quickly.

"… Oh."

Rimuru then let out a slow, unsteady breath before forcing a laugh—flat and humorless. "And here I thought you didn't care about anything but killing goblins."

Goblin Slayer didn't react.

The joke died between them, and the slime looked away.

They walked a few more steps before Rimuru spoke again, quieter this time. "Even if I could see them again… What would I even say?"

Goblin Slayer responded without hesitation. "Whatever you need to."

Rimuru scoffed. "Oh wow, thanks— that was really helpful."

"You asked."

Rimuru clicked his tongue but didn't argue.

Another pause.

"… They wouldn't even recognize me," he continued, while watching the way the fabric of his sleeve shifted with the motion. "I… I don't look the same. I don't sound the same." He let out a breath, frustration creeping into his tone. "Hell, I barely even think the same."

Goblin Slayer considered what he said, before challenging the slime with, "Does that matter?"

Rimuru frowned. "Of course it matters. If they don't know who I am, then—" He stopped himself.

'Then what?'

'Then it doesn't count?'

'Then it won't mean anything?'

The words sat heavy on his tongue, but he didn't say them.

Goblin Slayer didn't press. Instead, he said, "You will know who they are."

Rimuru swallowed.

Another beat of silence, then Rimuru sighed. "Let's say I do go see them. What if they've already moved on? What if they don't want to see me?" He asked, while hating the way his voice wavered.

Goblin Slayer didn't hesitate. "Then you'll know."

Rimuru shot him a look. "You're really bad at this whole "comforting thing," y'know that?"

"I am not trying to comfort you," the armored man replied, in a tone that was matter-of-fact. "I am answering your questions."

Rimuru made a face but didn't argue.

Another stretch of silence.

"… What if they hate me?" The question was quiet.

Goblin Slayer was quiet for a moment, then said, "Then you will understand why."

Rimuru exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. "And if they don't hate me? If they're happy to see me, and I—" He swallowed, voice thick. "And I just… End up disappearing again?"

Goblin Slayer's steps didn't falter. "Then don't disappear."

Rimuru's chest ached.

He let the words settle, rolling them over in his mind. Every scenario, every fear, every possible outcome.

"… It'd be a bad idea," he muttered.

"Perhaps."

They walked in silence after that.

For once, though, it wasn't the heavy kind.