Chapter 13 — The World Keeps Turning (Even When You Don't)
Morning smells like rain and chalk.
Rimuru steps onto the school grounds with the expression of someone who has accidentally enrolled herself in a social experiment. Her uniform is neat — somehow both too normal and too perfect — the crisp white shirt glowing faintly in the sunlight, as if it hasn't learned how to reflect light properly.
Aira walks beside her, clutching her books to her chest. "Try not to look like you're about to declare war on the student body."
Rimuru blinks. "But isn't that the whole point of education?"
Aira sighs. "You're impossible."
"Accurate," Rimuru says, grinning. "But at least I'm consistent."
They pass through the school gates. The chatter of students fills the courtyard — footsteps, laughter, rumors about weekend hangouts. Rimuru takes it all in like she's observing a new planet. Her eyes move from the banners on the walls to the vending machines, to the small group of students arguing about a test score.
"Humans are fascinating," she murmurs. "They stress over imaginary numbers, yet ignore the fact that reality glitches every five seconds."
Aira gives her a look. "You're one of those humans, you know."
"Debatable." Rimuru tilts her head. "I mean, I do enjoy snacks and existential dread, but that's about where the similarities end."
A passing student waves. "Hey, new transfer! Morning!"
Rimuru waves back, smiling too brightly. "Morning, fellow carbon-based organism!"
The student blinks. Aira facepalms.
"Right," Rimuru mutters. "Too much enthusiasm. Noted."
---
Later, in class…
Rimuru sits by the window — of course she does — watching sunlight refract through the glass. Every so often, her reflection flickers, the blue of her eyes replaced by a faint crimson before returning. No one else seems to notice.
The teacher drones about energy transfer and equilibrium. Rimuru stares at the equations, then whispers under her breath,
> "If only they knew how easy it is to rewrite energy."
Aira kicks her lightly under the desk. "Stop muttering cosmic nonsense during class."
"But it's relevant!" Rimuru whispers back. "Thermodynamics is just fancy magic in denial."
"Rimuru…"
"Fine, fine," she says, doodling a small smiley face in her notebook — except her "ink" glows faintly blue before fading.
---
At lunch, they sit on the rooftop — Rimuru's favorite place. She swings her legs over the edge, biting into bread like it's a tactical mission.
"So," Aira says, sipping her juice, "what do you think of the school?"
"Hmm. No monsters, mild chaos, and a suspicious amount of math. Ten out of ten, would survive again."
Aira laughs. "You're weird."
Rimuru smirks. "And yet, here you are — voluntarily sitting next to the weird one."
Her teasing fades into quiet as she glances at the horizon. For a moment, her humor slips, replaced by thought. The faint hum returns — a pulse in the distance only she can sense.
> Something's watching again.
She hides it behind another grin. "So, what's for dinner? Chaos with a side of denial?"
Aira laughs, but her gaze softens. "You always joke when you're hiding something."
"Of course. Laughter is the best armor," Rimuru says lightly. "Unless you're facing algebra — then nothing helps."
Aira shakes her head. "You're impossible."
Rimuru leans back against the railing, eyes half-lidded. "Maybe. But as long as you're here, I don't mind being impossible."
---
As the bell rings, the rooftop fills again with sunlight. Rimuru glances toward the city beyond the walls — something flickers in the reflection of a nearby window. Red.
She smiles softly, whispering to herself:
> "Laugh first, question later… right?"
And the world keeps turning, pretending everything's normal.