Commission: walking elegy( Tensura/marvel self insert): chapter 2: the slime and the dragon

Rimuru Tempest regretted his death. This was, what many would consider a perfectly reasonable response to being stabbed. This was a considerable truth he held in the core of his slime-being.

Satoru Mikami was gone. The 37-year-old virgin, the corporate drone, the man who had lived a life of quiet, unremarkable comfort—he was a closed book. The final act of that story, however, was one Rimuru could look back on without a flicker of remorse. Pushing his junior, Tamura, out of the path of a madman's knife, taking the blows himself… it was simple. It was right. A life for a life, a debt of camaraderie paid in full. Sure, the epilogue he’d imagined for himself—finding a cute girl, settling down, maybe even getting a cat—had been brutally edited out. But the core narrative? He was fine with it. Dying to save a friend felt… complete. It gave his otherwise mundane existence a punchy, heroic finale.

His current existence, however, was a sequel he never could have anticipated. A slime. A literal blue blob of jelly in a cavern that defied scale, where glowing moss served as stars and the bones of forgotten beasts were the landscape. And he had a name, given to him by a dragon. A dragon! The sheer, unbelievable absurdity of it all was enough to make his non-existent head spin. He’d gone from salaryman to fantasy protagonist in the blink of an eye, or more accurately, in the final gasp of a life.

His mind replayed the meeting with Veldora Tempest, the Storm Dragon. The initial terror, the overwhelming pressure of that divine presence, had quickly melted away into something else… something like friendship. Veldora was, for all his world-ending power, profoundly, hilariously lonely. Their banter had been easy, a meeting of two isolated souls—one imprisoned for eternity, the other newly reborn into solitude. They’d talked, they’d played games (or rather, Rimuru had humored the dragon’s childish demands), and they’d formed a bond. In the end, absorbing Veldora wasn't an act of predation; it was a pact. A way to free his friend from his prison and carry a piece of him into the world outside. It was a solution born of [Great Sage]’s cold logic and Rimuru’s own burgeoning warmth.

His goal, then, had been simple: get out of this cave. Use his new powers, see this new world, and maybe, just maybe, find a way to laze around in peace. That was the plan. A simple, straightforward isekai itinerary.

That was before he saw it.

Panic was not a strong enough word. It was a cold, instinctual understanding that slithered through his gelatinous form, a primal alarm that bypassed reason. Deeper in the cavern, away from the echoing space where Veldora had been sealed, was a smaller chamber with a still, azure pond. And beside it, curled in on itself, was a dragon.

But it was all wrong. This was not Veldora, a being of boisterous, overflowing energy. This was a miniature version, its scales the same brilliant, shining blue of a perfect summer sky, yet it felt like watching a star collapse in slow motion. He didn't know how he could be so sure—some new instinct granted by his slime nature or a resonance from the Veldora sleeping within him—but he understood. This was a tragedy. A deep, fundamental sadness so profound it seemed to leach the very light from the air around it.

This is why, even though it was potentially a catastrophically bad idea, even though this mini blue dragon could likely vaporize him with a thought, he did the most Rimuru thing possible. He wobbled closer, shifted his form into a slightly more humanoid shape to seem less like a wandering snack, and spoke.

“Uh, hi there! Nice cave, right? A little damp, maybe. Could use some mood lighting. But the acoustics are great!”

The dragon turned its head. Slowly. It was a movement devoid of energy, of curiosity. Its eyes, pools of molten gold with slitted pupils, focused on him. Rimuru wasn’t an expert in draconic expressions, but he didn’t need to be. The look it gave him was one of pure, unadulterated exhaustion. It was the look of someone who had been kicked repeatedly while they were down, and now viewed the world with a weary expectation of more shoes.

“...What?” The dragon’s voice was soft, devoid of the thunderous echo of Veldora’s. It was just… tired.

“You know, the cave!” Rimuru pressed on, his internal monologue screaming at him to shut up while his external one continued its rambling. “Big, spacious. Very… rocky. Must be prime real estate for a dragon. Bet the property values are through the floor, though. No natural light. Zero out of ten for commute.”

The dragon blinked, a slow, deliberate shutter over its golden eyes. “Is there a point to this noise?”

“Noise? I’ll have you know this is premium conversation! I’m a great conversationalist. My friend Veldora thought so. Well, he’s more of a talk-at-you kind of guy, but we had a great time! You should try it. Talking, I mean. It’s… fun?”

“Fun,” the dragon repeated, the word flat and empty. “I see. You’re one of those.”

“One of what?” Rimuru asked, genuinely curious despite the situation.

“The relentlessly, infuriatingly optimistic kind. The ones who see a bottomless pit and wonder if there’s a bouncy castle at the bottom.”

“Well, you don’t know until you jump, right?” Rimuru said, then immediately regretted it. “I mean, not that you should! Jump, that is. Definitely not. Bad idea.”

A silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable. The dragon eventually broke it, its voice so soft it was almost a whisper. “I don’t want to talk.”

Rimuru’s form deflated a little. “Oh. Okay, sorry to bother you then—”

“It’s not your fault,” the dragon interrupted, still not looking at him directly. “It’s just that I’m tired.”

“Tired?” Rimuru asked, shifting a bit closer. “Didn’t sleep well? This rock does look pretty uncomfortable. I, for one, can sleep anywhere. Perk of being a slime.”

The dragon let out a sound that was almost a laugh, but it was hollow and brittle. “Yeah. Tired. To be frank, I was contemplating if that pond would be good enough to allow me to drown before you came. In retrospective, probably wouldn’t. I mean, I am a dragon now and what kind of fuck-ass dragon dies by something as pedestrian as drowning? Still, I think I have found my solution.”

It turned its head fully to face Rimuru, its golden eyes boring into his core. “You can absorb things and creatures, can’t you?”

A jolt of pure, cold shock ran through Rimuru. How? This was a new ability, something that had come with his rebirth. He’d only just discovered it himself with Veldora. How could this stranger know?

“How do you know that?” Rimuru asked, his voice losing its playful tone, becoming guarded.

The dragon’s gaze was unnervingly perceptive. “Yeah. I also know that this is not your first life, that you were human, that you were Japanese and your name was something like Suzaku or Satoru or Satori or something like that.” It paused, watching the silent panic begin to bloom within the slime. “Let’s cut steps. You’ll probably be panicking soon if not already because of my words. You’re also wondering how, if I’m a threat, if I’m like you or things like that.”

Rimuru’s mind, usually a whirlwind of jokes and observations, went quiet and cold. This was a threat. An unknown variable with dangerous knowledge. [Great Sage] was already running probabilities, assessing combat potential, calculating the risk. The smart move, the calculative move, was clear. This creature was offering itself. It was a solution that eliminated a potential enemy and granted a massive boon of information. It was clean. Efficient.

But like before this conversation even began, that cold calculation was drowned out by a wave of profound sadness. Now, hearing the words spoken aloud, the intent was unmistakable. This dragon didn’t want to fight. It wanted to die. And it was asking him to be its executioner.

The dragon continued, its tone almost businesslike. “Why not make it like an equivalent exchange? You eat me and allow me to rest forever, you erase a possible enemy/threat and get through my memories, my knowledge, how I know what I know. And let me tell you something, Rimuru Tempest…”

He hadn’t shared his name.

The thought was an ice pick in his mind. Fear, caution, and that cold, inhuman calculation surged again. This was beyond coincidence. This was a level of awareness that was terrifying. The clever thing, the right thing for his own survival and future, was to agree. To open his maw and end this mystery before it could become a problem.

But something inside him, the ghost of Satoru Mikami who had pushed a friend out of harm’s way, rebelled violently against the idea. This wasn't a battle; it was an assisted suicide. And he wanted no part in it.

After a long, heavy moment, Rimuru spoke, his voice solemn and serious, devoid of its usual dorky energy. “No. I can’t. I won’t do so.”

The dragon’s eyes widened a fraction, the first real emotion other than exhaustion he’d seen.

“Maybe you’re right,” Rimuru admitted. “Maybe the clever thing would be to absorb you. But… I don’t know what happened to you, why you’re asking me this, but it doesn’t feel right. It may be right, but it doesn’t feel like it. I can’t. Sorry.”

The dragon looked away, a dry, depreciating sound escaping its maw. “I should have expected that.” It uncurled itself, its movements still languid with defeat, and began to walk away, deeper into the darkness of the cavern. “I’ll find another way. Enjoy your new life, Rimuru Tempest.”

A bolt of desperation shot through Rimuru. He couldn’t let it just walk away to its death. He wouldn’t.

“Wait!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the cavern. “Come with me!”

The dragon stopped, but didn’t turn back.

Rimuru pressed on, pouring every ounce of sincerity he possessed into his words. “I know that you are tired! I know that it’s the first time we met, and I probably sound like an idiot! But I wish… I want that you could stop being tired not by leaving this world, but by living in it! This world… it’s new to me too! It’s scary and weird and I don’t know what I’m doing half the time! But there’s so much of it I haven’t seen! There has to be something here, something that makes all this… this pain… worth it!”

He wobbled closer. “Just… try! Try with me! Let me show you! Let me, and if in the end, after you’ve seen the sun and felt the wind and tasted something other than cave water, if you’ve met people and maybe even made a friend or two, and you’re still tired… I’ll realize your wish. I promise. On my name, Rimuru Tempest, I will grant you the rest you seek.”

The plea hung in the air, a desperate, fragile thing. It was a huge gamble. He was offering to shepherd a deeply suicidal, immensely powerful being through the world, a walking tragedy that could explode at any moment. But the alternative—letting it wander off to find a more painful end—was unthinkable.

The mini dragon finally turned to look back at him. It wasn't a quick glance; it was a deep, penetrating stare, as if it were reading the very code of his soul, scanning every memory of Satoru and every calculation of Rimuru. It looked for lies, for ulterior motives, for the slightest hint of deception.

What it found must have been enough. The dragon’s expression softened, the crushing weight of its despair lightening by a fraction. A semblance of a smile, a subtle curve of its reptilian lips, touched its face.

“You know what,” it said, its voice still tired, but now laced with a thread of something else—amusement, perhaps, or simple resignation. “It’ll probably be a bore and a mess to find something that would actually kill me without too much pain. I guess I can wait a little bit until you eat me. Because I know that this way, at least, it’ll stick. I accept your proposal, Rimuru Tempest.”

Relief, warm and bright, flooded through Rimuru. “Thanks for accepting! Uh… what’s your name?”

The dragon tilted its head. “A name? Hm. Why don’t you give me one?”

Rimuru’s mind, now freed from the tension, immediately went to work. It had to match! It had to be cool! It had to signify their new bond! A name bloomed in his consciousness, perfect and ridiculous in equal measure.

“I’ve got it!” he announced proudly. “Nanana Tempest!”

The moment the name left him, a profound power surged from his core. The air hummed with energy, and the blue dragon began to shine with an intense, magical light. The glow was so bright Rimuru had to shield his non-existent eyes.

From within the radiance, a voice, now higher, more melodic, but still bearing that trademark dry wit, spoke. “Nanana Tempest? Really?”

“It matches with my name!” Rimuru said, beaming. “It also means we are more than friends, that we are family! And family always takes care of each other!”

The light subsided. Where the small, weary dragon had stood was now a humanoid form. Rimuru stared, his thought processes momentarily short-circuiting.

The figure was androgynous and slender, possessing a delicate beauty that was both ethereal and strangely formidable. Their skin was pale, almost porcelain, providing a stark contrast to the head of long, unruly hair the color of a twilight sky—a deep, dark blue that seemed to swallow the light. Curving gracefully back from their temples were a pair of horns, not rough and stony, but like polished sapphire, gleaming with an inner light. Peeking out from behind them was a long, sinuous tail, the same brilliant azure as their original scales, which swayed gently with a life of its own.

They were dressed in attire that reminded Rimuru of the sleek, functional armor from the video games he’d loved—a form-fitting, dark grey under-suit reinforced with plates of a material that looked like blued steel, etched with subtle, swirling patterns. It was badass, straight out of a FromSoftware concept art book. Their eyes, however, were the same molten gold, though now they held a new depth, a flicker of life that hadn't been there before. The overall effect was captivating—a being that was both cute and intimidating, ancient and newborn.

Nanana looked down at their new hands, flexing the fingers slowly before their gaze returned to Rimuru. The softness in their golden eyes was new, a fragile but genuine thing.

“I’ll hold you to your promise… Rimuru,” they said, their voice now a clear, melodic tenor that held the echo of both the dragon and the person they had become.