Kris just blinked. The real Ralsei was somewhere in Castle Town, probably organizing supply closets. This little guy was different. He was shimeji Ralsei — a fragment of kindness given digital form.
Somewhere in Castle Town, the real Ralsei sneezed and wondered why he suddenly felt very, very small — and very loved.
Kris didn’t have the heart to close the program. They just minimized it, let the little Darkner sleep on the desktop, and smiled. shimeji ralsei
It started as a joke. Kris had downloaded a weird “shimeji” program — one of those digital desktop pets that walks around, climbs windows, and multiplies if you’re not careful. But instead of the usual anime girl or cat, this one was Ralsei . A tiny, pixel-soft version of him, no bigger than an icon, with a wobbling walk and a fluffy green hat that dragged just behind him.
When Kris first unzipped the file, a miniature Ralsei dropped from the top of the screen, landed on the taskbar with a soft “boop!” and brushed off his robe. Kris just blinked
“I made this for you,” he said, holding it up. It flickered. “It’s not real, but… the feeling is.”
And he did. Every time Kris minimized a window, Shimeji Ralsei would appear in the corner with a tiny speech bubble: “You’re doing great.” “Take a break?” “Maybe save your document first.” He was shimeji Ralsei — a fragment of
Here’s a short story based on the idea of “shimeji Ralsei” — a tiny, desktop-pet version of Ralsei from Deltarune .
Sometimes he’d trip over the Recycle Bin and fall asleep next to it, scarf bundled under his chin. Other times, he’d grab a stray browser tab and drag it to a new spot, rearranging the desktop like a cozy campsite. He never multiplied like normal shimejis — he said that would be “too many princes, probably chaotic.”
“Oh!” he squeaked. “H-hello! Is this… the Light World?”