Glanaz Channel was a lively port town, all salt air and gull cries, but inside the little inn room Frieren and Naru had rented, the atmosphere was pure, lazy indulgence. Getting the room had been a minor adventure—Naru's horns had drawn the attention of two overly vigilant guards who'd nearly dragged her off for questioning. Thankfully, Frieren's name carried weight; being the mage of the Hero's Party had its perks. A few polite words, a little reminder of who exactly they were talking to, and the guards suddenly had somewhere else to be.
Now, safe inside, the scene was… odd. One Naru clone sat behind Frieren, gently combing through her long hair with careful, patient strokes, humming softly. Another clone knelt at Frieren's feet, massaging her calves with quiet, rhythmic precision. Frieren herself looked utterly blissful, her usual aloof expression replaced by a languid, half-lidded serenity, as if she had transcended mortal concerns entirely.
The real Naru, however, was across the room, standing rigid with intense focus, index finger pointed at a teacup on the table. A faint spark of mana flickered at her fingertip—then snap, a thin beam shot forward, grazing the edge of the cup and splintering the wood beneath.
"Too much mana," Frieren murmured without opening her eyes. "Your aim shifts when you overcharge."
Naru narrowed her eyes, adjusted her stance, and tried again. This time, the beam zipped just wide of its target and burned a clean hole straight through the wall.
Frieren's tone remained calm, almost lazy. "Too little control. Keep your breathing steady. Mana flows with the body's rhythm—if you're tense, it scatters."
Naru gave a tiny nod, her face still perfectly stoic, though there was a hint of determination in her eyes. She tried again, and again—resulting in another shattered cup and a suspicious scorch mark in the corner.
One of her clones paused mid-hair-brush. "Should we… maybe stop before the innkeeper notices?"
Frieren didn't open her eyes. "If the innkeeper complains, tell them to take it up with the Hero's Party."
The clone blinked, then nodded solemnly. "Understood."
The real Naru's gaze didn't waver. Her finger glowed again.
The morning mist over Glanaz Channel still clung to the shore when the old mariner approached them—a weathered man with skin tanned like old leather, beard like sea foam, and eyes that had clearly seen more storms than sunny days. He shuffled up to where Frieren and Naru were walking along the docks, hat clutched to his chest.
"You two," he rasped, voice like driftwood scraping rock. "Could use a hand, if you're not too busy bein' important. The tide's been throwin' wreckage onto the shore for weeks now. Ship splinters, broken masts, half a rudder or two. Dangerous mess, bad for the fishermen."
Frieren looked at him for a quiet moment, then gave the smallest nod. "We'll help."
And that was how the next week of their lives turned into the world's strangest cleanup operation.
The shore was a graveyard of ships—splintered planks, snapped rigging, the skeletal ribs of hulls jutting from the sand like bones. Seaweed tangled in the wreckage, shells and barnacles clinging to every surface. The smell was a potent mix of brine, damp wood, and something unpleasantly fishy.
Frieren, graceful as ever, lifted debris with precise levitation magic, stacks of wreckage floating obediently into neat piles. Naru… took a more direct approach.
The real Naru marched up to a half-buried ship's mast, grabbed it with both hands, and ripped it free from the sand with a wet crunch. A plank the size of a carriage was hefted over her shoulder like it weighed nothing. Her clones fanned out across the shore, each one doing the same—hauling entire hull fragments, broken anchors, and sodden barrels, all with the same blank, unblinking expression.
From a safe distance, townsfolk gathered to watch, whispering nervously. The sight of a horned, stoic-faced girl carrying literal tons of wreckage in her arms while her duplicates did the same wasn't exactly comforting. One fisherman muttered, "By the god, she could throw my boat into the sun…" Another nodded grimly. "And she looks like she might, too."
Naru didn't pay them any mind. She just kept moving, her orange ribbons bobbing with each effortless lift.
By the end of the week, the shore was pristine. The broken timbers were stacked for burning, the dangerous splinters and nails cleared away, and the sea lapped gently at clean sand once more. The old mariner thanked them with a deep bow, his voice thick with relief.
Frieren just said, "It's fine," and walked off. Naru followed, still blank-faced, though there was the faintest glimmer of quiet satisfaction in her eyes.
—oOVOo—
The Bredt Region was quiet that afternoon, sunlight spilling in lazy golden streaks through the thick canopy. The deeper they went into the forest, the more the air smelled of pine and damp moss. Birds scattered at the sound of their footsteps, though Frieren's gait was so unhurried, it felt like the trees themselves bent a little to make way for her.
To anyone else, this path would've been a confusing mess of roots, winding trails, and misleading deer tracks—but Frieren walked as if she'd been here just yesterday, her boots barely crunching on the fallen leaves. Naru followed a step behind, her horns catching the occasional ray of light.
They reached a humble log house, its walls weathered by rain and time, the chimney puffing slow coils of smoke. Frieren stepped up and rapped her knuckles lightly on the door. "Eisen, I've come to hang out."
The door creaked open, revealing a dwarf whose frame was as solid as the mountains, though his beard now carried more gray than gold. His eyes lit faintly at the sight of her. "Long time no see, Frieren."
"It's only been twenty-seven years, Eisen," she replied, as if that span of time was no more than a single afternoon.
His gaze shifted to the horned girl beside her. "I suppose this is Heiter's brat?"
Frieren raised a brow. "So you have kept in contact with each other after all." She tilted her head toward Naru. "This is Naru, my apprentice."
Naru bowed at a perfect ninety degrees. "Naru is pleased to meet Eisen-sama, 'ttebayo."
The dwarf squinted at the unfamiliar gesture, scratching his cheek. "That's… new." Still, he swung the door wider. "Come in, you two. I've made some good steak."
They stepped inside, the warm scent of sizzling meat mingling with the woody aroma of the cabin. Eisen shut the door behind them. "I should go and—"
But he stopped mid-sentence, because Naru was already gone from his side. She was in the kitchen, moving with an eerie familiarity, opening drawers and cupboards like she'd lived here all her life.
Eisen blinked. "…That's creepy."
Frieren's lips curved in the smallest smile. "Convenient, isn't it?"
The dwarf shot her a sidelong look. "Don't tell me you make her do all the work."
"Maybe. She never complains."
Naru reappeared, holding the pot with steady hands. "Naru will now serve food." Her tone was as flat as ever, but she placed the dishes with mechanical precision.
With that, they gathered at the small wooden table, the fire crackling behind them, plates filling with perfectly cooked steak. For a moment, it felt less like decades had passed and more like they were simply old friends sharing another meal.
The cabin was warm, the low crackle of the hearth filling the comfortable pauses between bites. The scent of the steak still hung thick in the air, mingling with the faint resin of the pinewood walls.
Eisen leaned back in his chair, wiping his beard with the back of his hand. "You still remember that time Himmel tried to fight that river guardian?" His voice carried a quiet chuckle, the kind that came from deep in the chest.
Frieren's lips twitched into a small, rare smile. "He fell in twice before we even started the fight."
Eisen's eyes glimmered. "And Heiter—oh, Heiter nearly dropped dead laughing. If I recall, he even pretended to 'exorcise' the guardian with wine."
Frieren tilted her head, a faint laugh slipping out. "I told him that wasn't how purification rituals work. He said, 'Who cares, if the spirit's drunk enough to leave?'"
They both chuckled quietly, and the sound was so natural, so unforced, that it made Naru glance between them with mild curiosity. She sat silently, her hands folded in her lap, listening like a child who'd stumbled upon a secret storybook.
They spoke of battles fought in distant mountains, of nights where the four of them huddled under one blanket because Himmel "miscalculated" the tent size, of Heiter's shameless excuses to avoid early morning marches. Every tale painted Himmel in a different light—sometimes brave, sometimes ridiculous, but always unforgettable.
Frieren's voice was lighter than usual, her eyes carrying a softness Naru rarely saw. It wasn't the distant, unreadable elf she knew, but someone warmer, more alive.
Naru tilted her head slightly. Perhaps… meeting an old friend is a good thing.
She didn't interrupt, only sat there, letting the low hum of their laughter and the steady burn of the fireplace sink into her. For once, even without saying anything, she felt… part of something.
—oOVOo—
Eisen had woken with a start, the muffled sound of someone crying out slicing through the stillness of the forest night. He swung his legs off the bed, grumbling under his breath, and padded down the short hallway toward the guest room. The moonlight spilled in through the slits of the shutters, casting pale bars across the wooden floor.
He eased the door open and stopped.
Naru was curled up on the futon, but her head was resting in Frieren's lap. The blonde demon's face was calm now, but every so often her body trembled, her fingers twitching like she was clutching at something unseen. Her lips parted faintly, and in the tiniest, most vulnerable voice, she mumbled, "Ro-senin…" before her breathing steadied again.
Frieren sat cross-legged, a small blanket draped over her shoulders. She didn't move, didn't fidget, didn't even look particularly tired—only kept her hand resting lightly atop Naru's head, her thumb brushing occasionally through the strands of her hair.
For someone normally as lethargic and indifferent to comfort as Frieren, the fact she was sitting there in that position, keeping perfectly still for Naru's sake… it said more than words could.
Eisen stepped into the room quietly. "Nightmare, huh? Heiter mentioned something about that once."
Frieren's eyes stayed on Naru. "It's been less frequent over the years. But it's still there. I don't know what kind of trauma she's reliving… and she doesn't either. Every time she wakes up, she's forgotten it completely. Forgotten she even had a nightmare."
Eisen grunted softly, folding his arms. "Reminds me of my apprentice."
Frieren raised a brow. "You had an apprentice too?"
"Stark," Eisen said simply. "Found him in a warrior's village. Taught him everything I knew." His gaze drifted toward the flickering shadows in the room. "He had nightmares too."
"Where is he now?" Frieren asked.
"Ran away."
"Why?"
"We had a dispute," Eisen said bluntly, "and I hit him."
Frieren tilted her head slightly. "That's unlike you."
"People change over time."
"It's only been eighty years—"
"That's still a lot," Eisen cut in, his voice carrying a faint edge, "even for a dwarf."
A quiet rustle broke the air. Naru stirred slightly, murmuring something under her breath. "…Ramen…"
Eisen blinked. "What's that?"
Frieren's lips curved in the faintest smirk. "A new dish she wants to make."