That Time I Got Isekai’d Again and Befriended a Slime

Darkness. Storms. Thunder without rain, yet a frigid scald. Why is this familiar?

Endless steel and glass. Grey. And in the distance, in the center, looms a great structure. No, distance means nothing to it. Shimmering, miragelike, it defies the eyes. Massive, shifting, piercing the heavens, it never stops. Fills the world. Spirals and spires replicate, crumble, reform. Along balconies and windows, invisible, laughter dances on air, and light spills free.

Lately, I've been having the same dream…

-=-=-=-

Present Day, Morning

Unaffiliated Convoy

Great Forest of Jura

Down a beaten dirt path, horse-drawn carts rumble on wooden wheels. Flattened land leading through the trees, it is one of many such roads through the Storm Dragon's territory. It's lack of wear and tear shows just how terrified most people were of passing through the land, even with the Forest's guardian sealed away.

No longer. Humans are in Jura once more, and en masse. It is a merchant convoy, officially. There is no specific nation to which they abide. Just another group of individuals looking to drop off their wares on those with the coin to spare.

Tempest is rather lax in its border security these days, preferring to accept all trade rather than limit themselves. It is the prime example of a new nation's optimism.

Whether this is also arrogance or misplaced sentiment, it's hard to say.

"Aaa- haaaaah."

Inside one of the clothed covered carts, a young woman stretches her arms above her head and yawns. Her shoulder length hair is a gradient hue, dark brown at the roots and shifting to blonde at the tips. With a naturally pouty expression, no doubt many humans in Falmuth believed her to be very 'cute'. Her light capri pants, casual boots, and fluffy short sleeve were intended to add to this image.

"It's been a while since we've gone on a trip. Where is it again? Tem… pest, or something."

Her name, not that it matters very much, is Kirara Mizutani. Pretty looking, and pretty average all around. She peeks out of the back of the cart, enjoying the sun's rays.

"The Jura Tempest Federation. A nation of monsters, run by a slime." One of her companions responds. He has short, flat, dark hair, and mostly closed eyes. Kind of like Brock from Pokémon, though far nastier in personality despite his efforts to hide it. Light pants and a black long-sleeve are his casual wear, and he sits with legs crisscrossed. This is Kyoya Tachibana, and to others, he likely appears as a nice and calm young man.

Good. Then, his image is intact.

"A slime. Geh, how pathetic." The third occupant of the cart speaks up with disgust. A casual blue windbreaker thrown atop a light t-shirt and dark pants. Here is Shogo Taguchi, and a more irritating specimen of human life you'd be hard pressed to find. "They're actually sending us and an army out for bottom tier shit like this?"

"I wouldn't be too sure. 10 thousand monsters are a tall order, even all of them were slimes." Kyoya laughs quietly. "You might even catch a cramp."

Well, not too hard pressed. Shogo's simplistic, somewhat childish view of things no doubt pales to the outright arrogance of Kyoya. A tale of two evils, and we'll leave it at that.

"Fuck off."

"Hey, can you guys shut up a minute? I'm trying to relax over here."

"Oh, sure thing princess." Shogo scoffs. "Our mistake, would you like ice water and grapes and your feet rubbed too?"

"Yeah, that'd be great actually!"

"That was sarcasm, you know."

Kirara tilts her head in faux innocence. "No, it sounded like you were offering."

"I wasn't."

"You sure? I mean, you brought it up and all, mentioning feeding me, my feet… kinda sus if you think about it."

"Alright, that's it." Shogo sits up, brandishing his fist. "Let's see how much you wanna talk about feet when I kick you outta this damn cart and make you walk-"

"Calm down you two." Kyoya, as the mediator. Usually, he is an instigator and an asshole himself, so it is only among his… friends – somehow, yes – that he gets to play this role. "Shogo, you can't make Kirara walk. We need to be discrete. You remember our orders."

"Hmph." "Ugh." Kirara and Shogo relax back against the cart's sides, opposite one another.

"I can't believe that guy. Fucking orders, aaahhh I hate that it's an order. Why is it always 'go do this thing' and never 'please do this thing if you want to do this thing'."

"Your majesty." Shogo tacks on only half sarcastically. He understands where she'd coming from, after all. Shouldn't there be a bit more respect around here?

"Exactly! Where's the respect for reincarnates in this world?"

Exactly!

Kyoya sighs. He too understands and feels the same. But it is important to-

"Keep up your façade." He reminds them. "It's an order from Lord Razen. Even if we don't like it, you shouldn't let others see that."

"Yeah, alright. Get off his dick, man. No homo."

"Yeah, what Shogo said."

Kyoya rolls his eyes and makes to retort.Just then, their cart rolls to a halt.

"Oi, you lot." A soldier sticks his head through the cloth flaps along the back of the cart. "We've arrived. Make yourselves useful now. You know your roles, yes? Plans all tidy and secure? Lord Razen will be displeased otherwise."

"…Yes, of course." Kyoya responds with a smile that reaches just a tad too high. The soldier frowns at him, but leaves without another word.

"Geh, really? Even that guy gets to talk shit." Shogo drops his head, speaking as soon as he's gone. "A man's self-esteem can drop too low, you know. Having weak bastards boss me around doesn't do too much for motivation. I'm dying over here!"

"Oh, get the fuck over it. We all have to deal, seriously." Kirara slowly gets up, grabbing her satchel and slipping out of the cart. "You're the only one whining about it."

"Hey, fuck you! You were bitchin half the damn ride-" Shogo follows her, his own bag in tow, and Kyoya is right after.

"Well, it's fine isn't it? Most humans don't have Unique Skills." Kyoya covers his eyes as he steps into the sunlight, though the motion looks odd considering his eyes are closed most of the time. "That just means they have to rely on us."

"Yeah, I feel real 'relied on'." Kirara deadpans.

"Escorted like livestock ain't it, man." Shogo adds.

"I know. Trust me, I know. But it's still fine, right?" Kyoya's smile sharpens. "After all, there's nothing wrong with fuel for the fire. Not much longer now."

These are the three Otherworlders summoned to Falmuth and kept under lock and key by one of the strongest human mages, Chief Sorcerer Razen.

Naturally, his power is dwarfed by that of another human "mage" you may know the name of, and her protégé. But that's not really the point here. A threat is a threat, regardless of the context.

And make no mistake, one part of this convoy poses a real threat to the city of monsters.

-=-

There is another presence in another cart, one part of the convoy, just a few meters away from the irritable, arrogant trio.

The First Head, Drake of Scylla, lingers between canvas walls. He sits cross legged, back straight and eyes closed, with his gold-tinted, magisteel spear resting across his lap. His beard and connected mustache are spiky, but neatly trimmed. His hair is cut, from its extended length past his shoulders to just around his ears. Separated by a middle part and semi-spiked as well, the older man's salt and pepper hair frames rough, clean features.

For all the world, this person appears like a man. An adventurer, cloaked and daggered appropriately.

To his right, a large, rolled-up ball of cloth sits, along with a few strands of twine. Without opening his eyes, Drake reaches over, grabbing the cloth and meticulously wrapping it around his spear. His hands move slow, carefully, lovingly. Calloused fingers glide over burlap and magisteel, wrapping, securing them as one.

Underneath his touch, the metal glows. A blue and black mix of magical energy. A distinct look, and one that requires disguise.

Inside his chest, and slightly behind his right lung, there is a faint rumble of distaste.

Drake assuages it.

Be patient, Astel.

It will have to wait. He has had to wait much longer than this.

Once his work is done, and all of the spear is covered, he grabs the twine. Three strings, near the top, middle, and bottom, are slipped around the cloth and tied in rough knots. There is a small gap in the fabric, which one can slip their hand in to. Drake does not do so now, but when the time comes, it will be a simple task to unveil the whole thing.

Underneath his baggy, brown cloak, the shadows ripple. From under his left arm, a creature forms. A dog or a wolf, entirely black. Not in the sense of its color, but more so as the absence of light, or literal shadow.

This is Lycaon. A lesser form of it, at least. The mass-produced wolf-shadow hybrid version.

A shapeshifting Greater Space Spirit, with the base form of a hybrid wolfman, had once been imbued into Drake's body. This had stabilized his passing into this world and had served as an experiment for the ever-bored Octavius, once he'd recognized Drake's initial weakness.

Once upon a time, Drake had forcibly assimilated that Greater Space Spirit, making him the being that he is today. Only one person fits this mold. Not a god, not a human, not even a man, but merely someone.

Someone with the power to affect, infect.

However, this Lycaon is weak. Inferior, with the tradeoff of easy, near instantaneous replication and low 'cost'. He could form an army of these, though against anyone with any semblance of power it would be worthless. The more powerful Lycaon that powered his defense and escape from Xerxes were hardly any better.

There is only so much one can do with a reflected image, and while he remembers and understands the spirit of the original Lycaon, the power of that beast is within him now. Intrinsically connected.

He had more variety, once. Lesser Spirits, a Greater Earth Spirit, a Greater Fire Spirit. Forcibly formed contracts, and physical forms that hardly resembled their original nature. Less connected, attached elsewhere, contained rather than assimilated.

But they are gone, now. Lost to the World. Lost to her.

The lack of Greater Spirits had been of primary concern, after Xerxes. Without them, he is merely the keeper of altered Lesser Spirits, and no one who matters is scared of Lesser Spirits. Even altered ones.

Really, to untrained hands and eyes, his Unique Skill is not very noticeable. Storage and alteration are fine by themselves, but everything else? He'd been cursed with too much. Before, once upon a time, it was too bloated, too unwieldy, too unfamiliar for one who had never known manga or magic.

In the end, it is fact that splitting the Skill had cost him power. He'd shattered it himself, and that is not an inconsequential act.

From the fractured remnants of Drake's Unique Skill: Limited Transfiguration, came Nin Gen's Transmogrification. And in the process, Drake gained a son. He also retained the most important power, the one that garnered him the barest hint of interest from his benefactor and eventual friend.

Though, the level to which he can alter spiritual entities is definitively less than before. Perhaps there are some regrets to be had. 

Losing everything had only ruined him further.

The messy, multiplanar existence of Jörmungandr is evidence enough of this. He'd been far cleaner and more efficient when he'd empowered Eve's familiars, as well as his most recent creations, Crow and Astel.

Oh, Quetzal. How I've slandered your name with this abomination. Bearing your physical form as a mere vessel.

But there is nothing to be done about this now. We cannot undo past regrets, only carry them as far as possible. What's done is done, and long gone. To dwell on the past unnecessarily is a mistake; to learn from the past is a virtue.

It is time for him to move forward, now. It is time to see just how far he can go.

A knocking sound echoes, a gauntlet-covered knuckle on wood.

"Sir?" The voice is cautious. They know nothing of him, have been told very little, other than that he is an enemy of their enemy, sent by the Free Guild. And that makes him, in this moment, a very important friend. "We've arrived."

Drake exhales, opening his eyes.

"Finally."

-=-=-=-

A Few Days Earlier

Assembly Hall

Tempest, Jura Tempest Federation

Society is governed by rules. Laws, regulations, guidelines that set an example of the proper way to live life. This is the foundation of a well-functioning society: one in which the rules are understood and followed.

The truth is a bit more than that.

Naturally, this sort of thing expects much from both the populace and the law. It expects reason, rationale, alongside a fair and just system under which these traits are rewarded. It's impossible to expect your citizens to be content when the laws are unjust.

In this case, it's only fair to subvert those rules, until such a time that they become fair.

This is how a just society should function. Fair guidelines allow for due advancement based on merit. The vaunted "meritocracy" which, just like a variety of political philosophies, can almost never exist thanks to the unfortunate existence of the "human factor".

Interestingly, Tempest is perhaps the closest thing to a true meritocracy that Tanya has ever seen. The Imperial military came close.

Back to the point.

Society operates based on a specific set of guidelines. Human relation operates along the same vein, and often in conjunction.

For example, a friend exchanges banter with a friend. A mother and father provide dinner for their child. A coworker covers another coworker's shift, in exchange for the same courtesy at a later date. Humans (sapient lifeforms, etc.) provide something that is expected of them by the constraints of societal relation.

You know it already, don't you? Social exchange theory and all that. At the risk of sounding cold, there is a constant cost-benefit that goes into maintaining a relationship, at any level. Effort on both sides, it balances like a scale.

Tanya is no stranger to this concept. It's a key part of her personal doctrine; the maintenance of personal relationships is crucial to a well-balanced, productive existence. Logically, she knows this well.

It only makes sense to endear yourself to your boss, or your General. Hard work is often enough to secure a well-earned promotion, but just as often the boss will promote those they find favor with. One of the reasons she had advanced so quickly in the military was because of her unique effectiveness, but also because she endeared herself to her superiors.

So no, she's no stranger to maintaining a relationship from a reason-based, cost-benefit standpoint.

But it's a different story entirely when those relationships are… more.

"Hey beautiful. You seeing anyone?"

In the absence of knowing the exact right thing to say, Tanya early on decided to use cheesy lines from books and movies to cover for a lack of experience.

It would be embarrassing… if her lover didn't obviously like it.

Shuna swats Tanya's shoulder, hiding a smile behind her kimono sleeve.

"You're horrible." Despite this, she leans up, and Tanya leans down to meet her. As their lips touch, Shuna's smile only widens, enough that she's practically beaming when they pull apart.

Tanya has never been in a romantic relationship until now. Not in her first life, not in her second. Although… well, in any case, this is a new experience.

How does one manage a healthy lover-lover relationship? It was a hell of a lot easier when they'd only been in it for the sex. But now?

"Do you have somewhere to be?" Shuna's hands drift forward.

"I was going to ask you that, actually." Tanya's matches her, likely without her even realizing. Her hands curl under Shuna's, Tanya's thumbs brushing subconsciously along the back of her lover's fingers. "For lunch. Are you involved anywhere?"

Shuna isn't, as far as her schedule entails. Tanya knows this, knows her lover's schedule, but it's always important to ask in case of sudden, unplanned occurrences.

Like Shion ruining the kitchen or a dispute between merchants. If these examples seem specific, that's because they had occurred just last week. On the same day.

"No, I'm free. Gob'ichi is training a few new students today."

"Good." Tanya knows this too, having been to the kitchen earlier. To prepare this. "A date, then?"

"Ooh, a date? Where at?"

She sounds excited. This is good. Tanya is going to get a good grade in "lover". Something that absolutely is possible to achieve; Shuna would say she's a straight A student, in fact.

Why is she thinking about grades? Scores? You can't manage real-life relationships like a dating sim. And definitely not like an eroge. This isn't Muv-Luv Alternative.

God, this is hard. That's what it is. Difficult.

It really was easier when they'd focused only on the benefits. Pleasure, stress relief, anger management. The first time Shuna had entered the bedroom mad as hell at Benimaru, and Tanya had entered the bedroom mad as hell at Mary… yeah. They'd needed to replace a few floorboards.

It was easier when hers and Shuna's relationship had been as simple as that.

But also… Tanya… she doesn't really understand, but she wants to be with Shuna. Logically, this warmth in her chest, this desire to be close to Shuna, it implies the existence of some sort of affection that goes beyond mere affection.

She's not stupid or unobservant. Merely inexperienced.

She knows this. This something inside.

It is far from rational. It's the farthest thing from it, and some part of Tanya hates herself for it. It isn't logic, it's feeling.

And that… bothers her.

But at the same time, she doesn't want to stop. Hugging, kissing, holding hands, just laying under the covers and listening to her lover's soft breathing… none of these make sense to her. None of them provide any meaningful purpose, other than petty indulgence of, what, desire?

Isn't giving in to emotion the last thing she should be doing? Isn't that exactly what she'd denounced others for?

Her closeness to Shuna feels nice. That much is true, but isn't it a waste of time? Tempest is peaceful now, but who can speak on the future? Rimuru is away, can she really just relax? She should be working harder than ever. She should be chartering treaties, researching her space magic, finetuning her formulae, investigating disturbances…

But, as wasteful as such a relationship may seem… Tanya doesn't want to stop.

Want. Desire.

Tanya has always defined herself as a selfish individual.

It's a tough look in the mirror, then, because when was the last time she'd done something based on what she wanted? Not out of obligation, for her career, or for her life. None of that.

She'd accepted a role with Tempest out of obligation. Had spared Mary Sue for some potential payoff down the line as a valuable human resource.

Had she wanted to fight Milim, Charybdis, Nin Gen, Octavius? No, of course not. They were necessary, or part of her job description, or an unfortunate requirement to avoid a later calamity.

When was the last time Tanya sat down and looked at her own suppressed desires, beyond some abstract goal of a "peaceful life"?

…well, accepting Shuna's romantic advances, for one. Becoming friends – yes, friends, that's the right word – with Souei, Souka, Rimuru, Geld… Mary.

Soon, she'd go on vacation. Another choice, something she wants. And she wants Shuna to come with, and Mary. They'll all go fishing.

Tempest has changed her, and Tanya… tries not to stop and think about it too much. She can't stop. That would be acknowledgment. Recognition of…

Shuna knows. Of course she knows; she loves Tanya so deeply. Tanya recognizes that.

This life, their story together, it genuinely is a romance, isn't it? Tanya considers it.

Romance is not something she had ever truly considered, not really. It makes little sense according to the usual utilitarian logic and reason that had dominated two lives. But, third time's the charm, huh?

As wasteful as it may seem, her relationship with Shuna feels important. Valuable, in a way that she finds hard to truly explain.

"On that one hill, along the city limits." Tanya says, quietly. "It's a nice day. I was thinking, a picnic."

Shuna's smile brightens even more, and Tanya feels it in her chest, wrapping tight around her ribs. She is struck by an unnamable desire, and, oh, she wants to name it.

No. No. Not… yet.

This is another desire that haunts her. But while she logically knows what this is called, actually giving a name to it is allotting power to the emotion. It's admitting something she isn't quite ready to admit out loud, even if it's already obvious.

Tanya holds herself back, even now, even after everything. Instead, she sticks to what she knows explicitly well. That is, proper social exchange. Between lovers, it's customary to give compliments, to kiss, to stay close to one another.

Tanya does these things because they are expected of her. Yet, she does them out of a desire to do so. She wants to do them.

Yes, it is so very obvious, isn't it?

There is something about touch.

Tanya wants to touch Shuna. Not even sexually (though yes, that too), but just brushing shoulders, pressing a hand against her lover's lower back, hugging for so long that Benimaru gets annoyed at them for cluttering up the hallway, brushing her knuckles along pearly horns, slipping a strand of pink hair behind Shuna's ear, walking by and just grabbing each other's hands for no reason other than proximity.

What is wrong with me?

She means it. She means all of it.

Tanya isn't stupid. Emotionally stunted, but not ignorant. She understands, on some level, that this is… something she can't say out loud, or in her head apparently.

It's just, how does one really feel? After everything, how can she of all people…

Tanya tries.

Shuna is a beautiful young woman. She is cute. Her hair is a lovely shade, her horns are cool, her cooking skills are to die for, so on and so forth.

Tanya can bring herself to say these things, at least. They're factual statements in her eyes. That makes it easy. It's just stating what she knows.

Tanya had rarely allowed more. What had she called herself? Ah, right. "I know better than anyone that I'm a twisted individual. But I'm still better than this person in front of me."

It's an old line.

She'd said it back when she'd been, physically at least, a "he". Back when that one subordinate had begged at her desk, pleaded with everything to avoid his inevitable termination from the company.

It was a self-diagnosis of an inability to be, fundamentally, human.

After all, all those things, those useless emotions like guilt and envy and empathy and whatnot, they just get in the way, don't they?

Clearly, I don't need them, she had said. Yes, she'd said that. Meant it? On some level, to some extent. Convinced herself.

Of course, it's hard to bottle up one thing without damming away a whole lot of others as well. Not that it bothered Tanya any. Too much.

It's important to prioritize reason over emotion. This is obvious.

Her circumstances emphasized this fact. Corporate life had discouraged pursuit of anything other than company profits. The frontlines dissuaded anything beyond quick and sweaty trysts in paper-thin tents.

It's important to prioritize reason over emotion, yes, but that doesn't have to mean the absence of emotion entirely. It's this last part that Tanya's been working on.

Because Shuna cares about her so much, loves her, and Tanya…

Tanya feels… really feels… that.

It's frustrating. It squeezes her sternum, floods her lungs. Warm and breathtaking, hot and not at all bothered by it.

She knows it. She can't say it.

Shuna stares up at her with knowing eyes. There is a great swell in those eyes, a pink glow of the soul.

Don't look at me like that. I can't think. There's no reason in this.

"That sounds lovely, Tanya. I'd love to." Shuna's smile softens, and Tanya understands why even kings would die for Helen. "Should we go now? It's a bit early, but…"

Ah, right. There is no reason. Just…

She can't say it.

And about the picnic, Tanya wants to say yes. But even in this new stage of her life, in which indulging some of her wants and desires has become an acceptable practice, she still is a being who prioritizes discipline.

"Business before pleasure, sorry. I was heading to a meeting with Benimaru."

"Hmm. I wonder if I should be jealous my brother is monopolizing your time."

"He's not nearly as beautiful as you, so I wouldn't worry."

"That is true. Though, Lord Rimuru might contest you on that."

Tanya laughs, and Shuna resists the urge to pull them away somewhere. Resists the urge to run away, far away with her.

"That's true. I heard him compliment Benimaru and Souei's looks enough times to be sick. Honestly, I don't see it."

"Don't judge." Shuna admonishes, not at all serious.

"You're not the one who accidentally walked in on Rimuru bent over his own desk. Of anyone in this world, I think I'm allowed to judge." Tanya shakes her head. "At least it wasn't Benimaru or Souei then. I see them often enough that it might be awkward."

"It was awkward." Shuna points out, shaking her head with obvious mirth. "For at least a month. Like a plague. You were avoiding him and-"

"Ah ah ah, not out loud please. Blackmail is better kept quiet."

"Fine." Shuna rolls her eyes. She's heard this before, clearly. "You know, I kind of understand the first. Why anyone would be attracted to my brother, I don't know. But Souei, he's handsome, a little broody. That's like, the perfect combination. You don't see why Rimuru would be attracted?"

"It's less that I don't see it, and more that Souka has declared herself one of my closest friends." Apparently saving the Dragonewt's life in Xerxes meant they were bonded from trauma, or whatever. Who knew? "Apparently. And she has-"

"The most obvious crush in the entire world, okay." Shuna finishes Tanya's sentence, nodding. "Yeah, that makes sense. Should we…?"

"For the sake of our friendship, I am legally obligated to support her in pursing a relationship with Souei. But let's leave it be for now."

"Legally obligated nothing, you just think they'd look cute together."

"From an objective standpoint, yes." Tanya's lips quirked. "That too."

Shuna rolls her eyes again, but she's smiling too so it loses any negative effect. "Well, from an objective standpoint, you should probably go meet with my brother. Wouldn't want to keep him waiting too long, or he might challenge you to another duel. Which would be just horrible for his pride."

Yeah, Benimaru is never going to live that down. Tanya still laughs a bit thinking back on it.

 "You're right about that."

"As usual. Kiss?" Shuna phrases it like a question, but in every possible timeline the answer to this question is "yes". She might as well have demanded it.

"Yes yes, of course." Tanya leans down.

It goes a bit longer than it probably should, but they both pull away happy. Even then, it's not enough. Shuna leans back up almost immediately after they've parted, pressing her lips softly to the corner of Tanya's lips, then her cheek.

"See you for lunch, darling."

"See you then." Tanya squeezes Shuna's hands one last time, they go their separate ways, hearts warm.

-=-