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Hundreds of years ago, Undyne wouldn’t have dared to even dream that life could be like this.
And yet, hundreds of years ago, she and the other monsters had been freed from the Underground. Since then, they had treasured the surface of the earth and all its treasures—the sky and sea, the sun and moon, the enormous trees and the tiniest flowers.
And the people, of course, most of whom had welcomed the monsters and taken them into society as if they had never had a war.
Sadly, Frisk was long gone by this point. So were Frisk’s children, and their children’s children, and so on, for several generations. Learning that the human lifespan was merely a fraction of a normal monster’s had been like a blow to every monster’s face.
Watching Frisk grow old had been fascinating for Undyne. The once-lively child became taller, then shorter and hunched over, until they could no longer walk. They had been bedridden for the last few months of their life.
Undyne, as well as the rest of her friends, looked the same at one hundred years of age as they had at twenty. Now, she was nearing seven hundred. She’d definitely noticed she was slowing down by five hundred, and in the past couple hundred years, she’d found that sparring, her long-time passion, was putting too much strain on her soul. Additionally, her sparring partner Papyrus had developed arthritis and couldn’t partake in it anymore, either.
Now, Undyne spent her days in the back garden, listening to the whispers of echo flowers and wondering what the point of all this was.
She put her teacup to her lips, only to find she’d already finished off the tea. Sighing, she dropped the cup to her lap and looked out to the setting sun far across the field behind the garden.
“Want some more of that?”
Undyne turned, half a smile on her withered face. Alphys, her wife of six hundred and sixty-five years, had come onto the porch next to her, holding a tray with a teapot and another cup. Undyne held out her own cup. “Fill ‘er up.”
Alphys carefully shuffled over to Undyne’s other side and put the tray on the little table next to her, then poured some tea for her. “How are you feeling?” she asked, struggling to pull herself up into the next chair.
With one hand, Undyne caught her under her left arm and pulled her up. “A little better, now that I know I’m still strong enough to pick you up a little bit,” she joked.
“Implying you were feeling bad before?” Alphys pressed, picking up her cup of tea.
Undyne leaned back in her chair and sighed, closing her eyes. How different Alphys’s voice sounded now, compared to when they were young, when she really thought about it… “Guess I’m just wondering what the point of living this long is, when you can’t do most of the things you could do forever ago. I mean, Pap’s practically bedridden now. Mettaton hasn’t been on the stage for, like, three hundred years. Sans is long gone, Toriel and Asgore didn’t last long after Frisk died… every human we knew from Frisk’s time is gone and so’s just about every monster. I’m not gonna say “who’s left” because… well, we still have our kids, and their kids… and everyone who’s come after that. But it’s not the same when pretty much everyone you knew from the beginning of your life is gone.” She traced the design on her teacup with her thumb. “What am I still doing here?”
Alphys sipped her tip for a long time before answering. “You know, Undyne… you and I are among the only ones who remember living in the Underground. Pretty soon, there will be no one who can tell that story. No one who can remind the humans of what that was like, so it never happens again.” She turned to Undyne, who was still looking into the sunset. “They’ll only have the history books to tell it. And god knows how inaccurate those things are.”
“That all I’m good for?” Undyne chuckled, though Alphys really had given her something to think about.
“Not just that. Our descendants have heard stories of your bravery and strength from both of us. No one can tell those stories as well as we can. And…” Alphys smiled. “It’s not just you who’s still here. I know I’m old, but I don’t think I’m going anywhere anytime soon. As long as you have me, I’m taking care of you. I feel that’s my purpose in life now. And as long as I have you, you’re taking care of me.”
Alphys didn’t say it, but she didn’t have to. Undyne felt it in her heart—she was meant to care for Alphys now. Wasn’t that the point of life in general? To care for the people you loved?
She reached over and clasped her wife’s hand. “Thanks, Al.”
“No problem. Sometimes, I need that reminder, too.”
By now, the sun barely peaked over the horizon, and it was starting to get cold. “Come on, Al. Let’s get inside and make something good for dinner.” Undyne struggled to get out of her chair, but once she was up, she felt stronger than usual. She carefully picked up Alphys, one arm supporting her shoulders and the other tucked behind her knees. “Promise I won’t blow up the kitchen this time.”
“You always say that!” Alphys laughed.
After that talk, Undyne never wondered again what the point of her life was. As long as Alphys was there, she knew what she had to do, what she wanted to do. And even if one of them outlived the other for long, there were so many others they loved and cared for.
The reminder was enough to keep her going for a long time.