Chapter 12 — After the Static
The air still feels strange.
Too heavy for a night breeze, too quiet for the city.
Rimuru leans back against the old bridge pillar, forcing a smirk to cover the unease twisting inside her. The glow in her eyes fades, replaced by their usual calm blue — almost as if the world had politely agreed to pretend nothing happened.
Aira's gaze lingers on her. "You sure you're okay? You looked… tense."
"Tense?" Rimuru repeats dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. "Aira, please. I'm the definition of relaxed. If I were any calmer, I'd be a puddle."
Aira snorts, rolling her eyes. "You're ridiculous."
Rimuru grins, letting the sound of Aira's laughter settle her heartbeat. It's strange — laughter has always been her weapon, her armor, her disguise. But when Aira laughs back, it becomes something gentler. Something almost… human.
She brushes her hair aside, hiding the faint tremor in her fingers. Inside, her mind hums like broken machinery. That presence she felt wasn't random static. Something watched them — something that knew her name.
> "Smile while you can, Rimuru…"
The words echo in her thoughts, crawling like frost.
She tightens her grip on Aira's hand without realizing.
"Hey," Aira says softly, "you're really holding on today."
"Oh?" Rimuru blinks, then chuckles. "Guess I forgot how hands work. Oops."
The awkward pause that follows breaks into quiet giggles — the kind that fill empty spaces without trying. For a few seconds, the shadow's whisper fades beneath their laughter.
But even as they stand to leave, Rimuru glances once more at the river.
Her reflection ripples in the water — blue eyes, white hair — and for the briefest instant, something smiles back at her with red.
---
Later that night…
Rimuru lies awake, staring at the ceiling of her small apartment. Neon light from the city blinks through the window, painting her in shifting colors. She taps her finger lightly, keeping rhythm with the faint hum in the air — the same hum she's been hearing for days.
She could trace it to its source. She could burn it out with a thought.
But instead, she sighs and mutters,
> "Nope. Not tonight. Even cosmic horror deserves a break from me."
A faint laugh escapes her lips — soft, tired, real.
And somewhere, deep in the static, something laughs back.