Archive of Our Own ^beta

The night had grown thick. Stars flickered quietly overhead.
Insect chirps drifted through the silence, brushing against the cabin’s stillness.

Himmel lay on his back, unmoving. His gaze stayed fixed on the ceiling.
Beside him, Heiter’s soft snoring rumbled like a low, constant presence.
Eisen’s breath was slow and solid, like settled stone.
And Frieren didn’t stir—maybe asleep, or simply choosing silence.

After a pause, Himmel rose gently. With careful hands, he eased open the door and stepped out into the cool night air, making no sound.

The chill touched his forehead, calming the heat that lingered from thoughts he hadn’t yet voiced.
He left the cabin behind, heading for the stream a short walk away.
Moonlight shimmered on the water’s surface.
The murmur of the river felt like someone speaking—not in words, but something close.

He stretched, slowly, and let out a quiet breath.
Then, he closed his eyes.

What surfaced was yesterday’s village.
A boy had stood there—messy hair, scraped knees.
But his eyes were clear. Unclouded by doubt.

When they arrived, he had looked at them as if dreaming.
So this is what a “hero” looks like, he must have thought.

That smile now existed only in memory.

Demons attacked later that day.
Though driven off, the damage was real.
Houses half-collapsed. Lives lost.
And in that boy’s eyes, the light went out.

He didn’t cry. Didn’t scream.
He just stood there—listening to something only the wind could carry.

—Had I truly protected him?

The question didn’t need sound. It settled gently inside Himmel.
The boy’s life had been spared. But what about his heart?
If only he’d seen it sooner... If only he’d reached further.

Throughout this journey, Himmel had tried to be a light.
But had anyone ever truly seen it?

Was his idea of “hope” just something he told himself to believe?

The river kept flowing.
Unmoved by the tremors in his chest.
Moonlight filtered through his eyelids, and the night took on the shape of memory.
Then, he sensed someone behind him.

He opened his eyes.
The wind had shifted—just slightly.
Frieren stood nearby.
Bathed in moonlight, her face held no expression, her pale hair drifting in the breeze.
A light shawl slipped from one shoulder.
Soft, like she’d walked out of a dream.

“Frieren. Did I wake you?”
“No. Couldn’t sleep. Heiter’s mumbling is too loud.”
She said it flatly, like always.
Something about that made Himmel chuckle.

“Yeah. I gave up a while ago. There was a stretch when I was fighting dream-dragons every night.”
Frieren didn’t respond.
Her gaze dropped to the river, as if listening to the current.
The silence between them settled easily.

“I heard you leave, so I followed... Going for a walk?”
“Yeah. Just needed air.”
Small stones lined the riverbank.
With each step, a faint crunch underfoot.

Himmel nudged a pebble forward, his eyes drifting toward the shadowed mountains.
“I like water. The sound of it.
Sometimes it helps me remember.
Other times... forget.”
“I think I understand.”

She stared at the stream.
Moonlight painted shifting shapes across the ripples.
In that soft light, her profile seemed gentler than it had in the daylight.

“Frieren, why’d you follow me?”
She tilted her head, expression unreadable.
“If I’m bothering you, I can go back.”
“No. It’s fine. It just... isn’t like you.”

She turned toward him—blank gaze, wide-eyed.
For some reason, that simple motion eased something in his chest.
“Usually, even if I walked off like this... you wouldn’t follow.”
“…Can’t argue with that.”
Then she looked away.
Her eyes drifted far, like following the river’s flow.
And maybe—just maybe—there was loneliness in that glance.

“No particular reason... It’s just, lately, you haven’t felt like yourself.”
Her voice was quiet. So quiet it blended with the breeze.

Himmel didn’t respond.
He stared at the water.

Moonlight wavered on the surface, breaking into ripples—
and he wondered if his own heart looked the same.
A blurred outline.

“...That’s not true. I’m always a hero, right?”

He tried to put strength into the words,
but even he could hear how hollow they sounded.

He turned toward her.
Frieren watched him silently.
No pity. No judgment.
Just a quiet stillness.

And under that gaze... he couldn’t lie.
“A hero would probably say something like that.”
“Himmel would say…?”
“If it were me… I might take a moment just to think about it.”

It wasn’t a confession.
More like a truth, quietly lifted from the fog at the edge of his heart.
Like mist gathered at his fingertips.

“Yeah… You’re always so upbeat, Himmel.
That’s how I can tell when something’s off.”
Frieren’s gaze returned to the stream.
Only the insects and the river filled the quiet between them.

“You’re not going to ask what happened?”
“If you wanted to talk, you would’ve said something already.”

Her reply was short.
But within it was a gentleness.
One that left room for silence, and made that silence feel welcome.

Himmel looked at her.
Night draped softly across her hair.
Moonlight brushed her cheek.

She seemed like a dream for a moment—
but she was real.
Right there beside him.

“Yeah… I was feeling a little fragile.
But talking to you helped. I’m getting better.
Thanks.”
“I didn’t do anything worth thanking.”
“Heh. Maybe not.
But I feel more like myself again.”

He crouched down and rested a hand on her head.
Her hair nestled into his palm, light as a breath.

He patted her head. Twice.
“…You treat the person who cheered you up like a child?”
Her brows pinched slightly.
She lowered her voice—just the faintest sulk.

Himmel couldn’t help smiling.
“It’s a thank-you. I’d be glad if you accepted it.”
They sat close, looking at each other.
The river’s murmur and the insects’ hum dissolved slowly into the night.
Then Frieren’s lips parted.

“Ah…”

It was barely more than a breath.
Like a hinge creaking open on some long-lost memory.
She looked up at him.
Her eyes held something familiar. Something distant.

A small smile played at her lips—
not blank or neutral this time.
It had softened—just enough to seem amused.

Himmel didn’t know why that expression lingered in his heart.
But in that moment, she seemed a little more open.
“I remembered something Framme said…”
“Your mentor?”
Frieren narrowed her eyes and looked toward the stream,
exhaling softly.

“A spell to lift the spirits of the opposite sex… I think.”
The words landed without warning.
Himmel blinked—confused.
He looked at her, silently asking.
“Huh?”
She didn’t answer.

Instead, she stepped closer and raised a hand.
Her fingertips touched his cheek.
Not cold. Not burning.
Just warm.
Calm.

A kindness that asked nothing in return.
Before Himmel could move, she leaned in—
and kissed him.

It lasted only a moment.
Like wind. Like moonlight.
A touch, then gone. Nothing more.
Only the quiet fact—their lips had met.
The truth lingered in the night air.

But during that heartbeat of time, something shifted inside Himmel.
His heart didn’t race.
He didn’t flinch.
It just warmed quietly from within.
Her kiss, he thought, might’ve been her way of speaking.
A kindness from someone unsure what words should sound like.
That alone was enough.

“…Feeling better now?”

She asked it plainly, with the same unreadable face.
But her eyes—still and deep as a midnight stream—held the question gently.
Himmel gave a small smile.

“Yeah... I really do.
I feel like I could take down a demon king right now.”

It was half a joke.
But also the truth.
That ache inside him had faded—
blown away like dust in the dark.

“That’s good.”

She said it without embellishment.
Silence fell again.
But it wasn’t uncomfortable.
The night felt quiet, settled.

And no longer lonely.
“Will you be okay from here?”
The question was pure.
So straightforward it caught him off guard.

And maybe because of that—
tiny thoughts flitted through him.
A feeling that barely touched something deep inside.
Or maybe more.

He hoped it would drift off like a passing joke.
But part of it stayed.
He didn’t know if Frieren meant more by it.
She might not know herself.

So Himmel made a choice.
To accept her kindness—
not push it away.
Not hold it too tight.

Just quietly let it settle.
That was the most honest answer he could offer.
“Yeah. I’ll be fine.
Knowing you care...
maybe that’s what happiness really is.”

“I see.”

Nothing more was said.
But something stayed.
Solid. Unmistakable.
Inside his heart.

“But Frieren… maybe don’t do that with anyone else.”
Himmel said it gently.
Frieren didn’t blink.
“I won’t.”
“That’s good.”
He smiled, small and honest.

And for a moment, her lips softened.
Not teasing. Not shy.
Something like quiet joy.
“I see... Just like Framme said.”
“Huh?”
Himmel looked toward her.

Frieren paused.
Then, as if leafing through something fragile and half-forgotten inside, she spoke.
“My master once told me something.”

--Listen well, Frieren. You can tell a man’s true worth from your first kiss.

The voice carried warmth.
Nostalgia, fond pride, and quiet certainty.

--If he really cherishes you, that one kiss is enough.

--He won’t ask for more. He’ll know—it’s already plenty.

Himmel listened.
The stream’s murmur filled the space between memories.

--But if he ever asks for more...don’t hesitate. Blast him with magic.

At that, Himmel let out a quiet laugh.

“…So I’m supposed to keep my spells ready to fire.”
“Bold advice from your mentor,” he joked, lightly.
But warmth lingered behind the words.
Frieren nodded softly.

“She wasn’t wrong.
And I’m fine with that.”
The honesty in her voice sank into his chest,
gentle and grounding.

So simple.
And yet it made him quietly happy.
Himmel stood, the grass at his feet brushing softly.
“…Frieren.”
She looked up, silent.
“Thank you.”
“I told you you don’t need to say that.
Makes it feel awkward…”

But his thank you carried layers—
Gratitude for lifting him up.
Warmth for staying close.

And yes, a quiet thank you…
for that moment they’d shared.

Words might ruin it.
But it was real.
How much of it had she felt?
She didn’t answer.

Just glanced away for the briefest second—
as if holding something new inside her.
Silence returned.

Not between strangers—
but as warmth between hearts.

Frieren tilted her head to the sky.
Himmel followed.
The stars stared back—
far off, and still.

And in that moment,
she looked fragile…
but steady.

—I care about her. Truly.

The thought formed quietly inside his chest.
He didn’t name it love.
Or something romantic.
It felt like those words weren’t quite enough.
But the feeling—
The memory of her lips—
it still trembled somewhere deep inside him.

Like kindness made into a moment.
Like a small flame lit in his heart.
So he told himself:

If there ever came a moment where Frieren felt afraid…
where she needed her magic…
he wouldn’t be the reason.

He wouldn’t let that happen.
And he was sure of that.
With quiet, unwavering confidence.

—Cast magic…?

The thought snagged in him.
Something small had taken root.
“…Hey, Frieren.”
The words came easily.
She turned to look at him.
No expression.
But her lips were faintly softened.

“What?”
“When you kissed me…
you weren’t holding your staff, were you?”
He wasn’t sure what he meant—
only that it mattered.

That moment, Frieren’s hands had been free.
No hesitation.
Just the feel of her fingers on his cheek.
Just the kiss.

“Always be ready to cast magic.”
Wasn’t that her mentor’s advice?

Frieren didn’t answer immediately.
She narrowed her eyes, watching the river.
Then she smiled—
like moonlight curling into mist.

“Well... who’s to say?”
A breeze shifted through her hair.
Silver threads unraveled into the night, swaying soft beneath the moon.

“I trust you, Himmel.”
Her voice was faint. Gentle.
But beneath it—something else.

A shimmer of feeling.
Soft. Fragile.
Like a faint color bleeding into dusk.

“…I knew you wouldn’t.”

The words slipped out—
as if he were saying them to himself.
He felt them settle inside him.

Warm.
Like a feather drifting down.

“…If there’s no need to cast magic,
then there’s no need to prepare it.”

Frieren finished the thought.
Himmel blinked.
Then slowly nodded.
“Yeah. You’re right…”
Her words were trust.

And that, more than anything, made him happy.
The night stayed deep—
but somewhere in him, something like morning had begun.

The journey—
it would continue tomorrow.

“Frieren. I don’t think I’ll ever forget tonight.”
“…Forget it.
The more I think about it,
the more embarrassing it gets…”

And her face—

the one she made when she said that.

That, too…
I’ll never forget.

Fin