Three duels, one gunshot as a greeting, and a conversation Atem never expected to have.
Seto Kaiba has forced his way into the afterlife, and he has no intention of leaving it alone — or of losing an argument.
Post-DSOD; the king of the afterlife discovers that his eternal rival intends to encroach on his world, his schedule, and eventually him.
This is a translation of an original work on Pixiv.
Original Title: 話してみた結果
Original Author: 葉人(@Hathor₋yuki)
Personal site: https://prideshipping.sakura.ne.jp
"Thank you. For protecting Aibou, back then."
Because of him I was able to reach into the world of the living, and save everyone — save the world. If Aibou had been erased first, none of it would have been possible.
"What are you talking about."
"I'd figured that if Aibou went down, you'd simply decide to take Diva out yourself."
"I have no objection to beating him with cards. But I don't recall making monster extermination my specialty."
And yet, for all he says that, he was the one who looked the enemy straight in the eye and decided to fight first, to protect the world.
"But you were the first to stand against him, weren't you."
"Do you think I'd allow anyone to do as they please in front of me?"
"That's — well, that's the kind of man you are. Then why drag Aibou into it too?"
He was the type to borrow no one's hand, to face things alone, so his proposing a tag duel had been unexpected.
But the man in front of me said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"I told you. Monster extermination isn't my specialty. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Theory dictates that you throw the occult at the occult. I simply judged that that part was yours to handle."
He said the occult, and pointed at me.
Seto Kaiba, as expected. Listen to him and every action turns out to be the product of rational thought. Unshakable as ever.
"I'm the occult?"
"What else would your specialty be."
"I don't have a specialty."
So I'm filed under occult. What a way to be treated.
"I knew a gun would be meaningless. I'd have been erased first. Since it had to be countered with willpower, I merely used cards to hold his attention."
"Ah — right, the gun! Don't bring something like that into this world."
Of all things, this man had come to the afterlife carrying a gun.
It had been so long that I was taking my time looking at his face when a shot went off a hair's breadth from my ear. The throne cracked; a new one is being made in a hurry.
He hadn't come to kill me — I'm already dead — but since I had gone back to the afterlife without so much as showing my face after he'd called for me that many times, I did wonder whether I'd finally angered him too far.
But that didn't seem to be it either.
"Since ancient times, the one holding the stronger weapon wins the battle. The way bronze is no match for iron. You don't walk unarmed into a foreign land you know nothing about."
Apparently he'd brought the gun for rational reasons.
"Then why did you fire it?"
"A greeting. I didn't hit you, did I."
Ah, the same as ever. This man hasn't changed in the slightest.
The result was that I ended up hurrying down from the throne. Rational. He thinks, then acts.
But a greeting like that is what the world calls a threat.
"What kind of greeting is that. Well — it did tell me your aim is reliable."
"Rest easy. The one I aimed at you held a single round. The rest were blanks."
So it was a threat after all.
And he's telling me, in so many words, that he still has the weapon on him.
"I need time too, you know. To sit in the afterglow of a reunion, sentimental things like that."
"And if your people attacked me while you did, I'd have to fight. Which, going the long way around, works out for your benefit."
"I'm not so far gone that I can sink into sentiment with a gunfight in front of me."
"A gunfight? You mean a one-sided slaughter. You have no intention of letting that happen. Hence the greeting."
Ah, of course. The one holding the stronger weapon wins.
His decision-making is so rational that the methods come out wrong.
Well, this man's methods coming out wrong is nothing new.
"Next time you come, I'll have everyone informed in advance, so leave the gun behind. It's bad for my heart."
"What does a dead man have left to worry about."
First the occult slot, now treated as a corpse. He used me freely enough during what he calls monster extermination, and this is what he says.
Taunting in the middle of a duel is something I'm good at, but in ordinary conversation I'll never beat him with words. That impression hasn't changed either.
Though — has he changed, in that he now has room to sit through small talk? Or was he always like this?
I don't know him that deeply.
Because I had never had the chance to simply talk with this man.
"Talking with you, I start to lose track of what I even am."
The occult, a dead man, the monster-extermination detail. He surely doesn't think of me as a king.
"My archenemy. My eternal rival, Atem. What else is there?"
The answer came back without hesitation. So this, too, must be truth.
A rival. Of course — there was that.
"Now that I think of it, that's the first time you've called me by name."
"Obviously. You weren't in front of me. When was I supposed to call it?"
Fair enough. Everything he says is practical, grounded in fact. The gap in persuasive weight is too wide. No wonder I can't win with words.
"So what did you even come here for?"
I had assumed that once he won, that obsession of his would disappear and he would leave.
"I came to fight. You're the one who invited me to talk instead."
Now that he mentions it, that's true. I was the one who invited him, because I didn't have the will left for a fourth round.
This man, a monster of stamina, had been holding his Duel Disk at the ready with a cool face even after the third duel ended.
"I forgot."
When I said so honestly, he only let out a short laugh, close to a snort. Exasperated — that's probably about it.
"And I'm going along with it…"
"Ah — I'm grateful. I really am grateful."
That's a fact. Chances to speak with someone as an equal are all but nonexistent; in this world I'm a king. And my friends aren't here.
"How admirable."
"You're going along with my talk. That makes you admirable too."
"That depends entirely on how you phrase it."
He'd said it before — that once he defeated someone, he'd lose interest in them and create a new enemy.
The second duel was his win. And yet he didn't leave; he went on to a third.
He had promoted me from "rival" to "eternal rival," so the behavior is consistent.
"Eternal rival, huh."
"Dissatisfied?"
"No. I'm honored."
We're evenly matched. There's no way this fight could be anything but interesting.
"Unusually honest of you."
"I realized I can't beat you with words. A major discovery."
"In the living world everyone knows it, but in this ancient world you're likely the first to notice. A splendid achievement. I'll commend you."
Say one thing and he says another. This man was definitely born from his mouth first.
"Oh? Are you giving me something?"
"Do you want something?"
"I'm curious. You handing anything to anyone is about as far from your image as it gets."
"Is that so."
As he said it, he reached into the inner pocket of his coat.
I don't need a gun, thanks. While I was thinking that, what came out was a single white card.
I took the card he held out and turned it over.
"Ah, this—!"
A photograph of my friends.
Aibou, Joey, Tristan, Téa, Bakura and Duke. All those faces I'd missed, beaming and flashing peace signs.
"Yugi sent it. I have no use for such a thing. What does he take me for."
It's true that this man has no need for a photograph like this.
Back then, he was the one who believed my existence was real and sacrificed himself to entrust the Puzzle to Aibou.
So there's no doubt: Aibou entrusted it to him believing the two of us would meet again someday, and he carried it here carefully, all this way.
Think about it and he's the kind of man who throws his own body in front of a world about to be destroyed. Even if it was only to hand things over to a dead occult specialist.
At heart he might be kind, the type who looks after people. He does look after people, in fact. You can tell by watching him with his brother.
"You really are unshakable."
"Who do you think I am."
"Kaiba…"
"What."
"Thank you."
"I don't need thanks. I merely commended an achievement."
I had the faint sense that he smiled.
Will this man come here again?
He has a place in the living world. If he wants an opponent, Aibou is there. However eternal a rival I may be, this isn't the world he belongs to.
"Isn't there a photo of you?"
When I said that, his eyes widened a little in surprise and he blinked.
Was what I said so strange?
"Is the man himself insufficient? Never mind. The Duel Disk has a log function. Pull from it and you can project an image of me."
I followed the procedure he indicated, and the Seto Kaiba of a moment ago appeared.
"Life-sized. Impressive."
I looked at the figure standing quietly there.
"The log is accurate."
"Hey — don't people tell you that you look good as long as you keep your mouth shut?"
"Even when I don't keep it shut, the whole world is enthralled with me. Words are a weapon."
"You're still planning to arm yourself?"
Full of himself, I thought — but this man speaks nothing but facts. So it's probably a fact.
"If a thing is necessary, I implement it. That's all."
I suppose that's true, but still.
Excavating ruins. A space elevator. A new model of Duel Disk. In the past year the science and technology of the living world has advanced by leaps. It's this man's fault.
"Why did it have to be me?"
"What."
"I mean — your rival."
He gave me an openly exasperated look, then closed his eyes and laughed with his shoulders shaking. I didn't say anything that funny.
"…After winning and running, who else could possibly fill the role but you. …Do you know how long I searched."
His voice wasn't laughing. It seems he really did search.
Considering what he accomplished, I ought to take that seat gratefully.
"That — I'm sorry. I should have at least said a word before I left."
"Did you think one word would have let you escape?"
It isn't as though I was running.
Restoring the Puzzle. Shifting to another dimension. Obsession is a frightening thing. Chased by something like this, there's no getting away.
"I wasn't running. This is where I'm meant to be. The way you exist in the world of the living."
"I exist in the living world and in this one both."
"As if it works out that conveniently."
"It does, which is why I'm standing here."
Ah, this is a fact too. He managed it, so here he is. Intellect, aptitude and will matched perfectly, and he found this place and forced his way in. An outrageous man.
As for my earlier question of whether he'd come again, the answer looks like it will be: he'll come again.
"Well, you have a point."
"Then that settles it."
I don't understand the logic of how he was able to come.
Inside this man it no doubt stands up properly as theory, but I could never hope to follow it.
"Hey — don't people tell you you're too smart for anyone to know what you're thinking?"
"What is it this time. Though it's certain the whole world holds that impression."
"Thought so."
Not conceit, this one either, apparently.
"What are you after, praising me that much."
"I'm not prais— no, I am praising you."
"I've witnessed something rare."
"Glad to hear it."
Having talked with him, it's a strange feeling — as if I've come to understand this man a little, and as if I understand nothing at all.
I acknowledge him as my rival, and I believed in the road of battle stretching beyond sight, but the tie between us was severed once.
And it's certain that I couldn't have kept this relationship going on my own. He combined all manner of extraordinary things and came here.
For that I feel plain apology, and gratitude, and I acknowledge it.
"Your achievement will be told for eternity. Three thousand years won't be enough to hold it."
"Praise it as much as you like. But it's set to be destroyed eventually. If I die, for instance, it collapses automatically."
"Destroying things again? You really do love destroying things."
He blew up Alcatraz too, on the grounds that it was no longer needed.
"There's no reason to leave unnecessary things standing. Before then I intend to collect the occult goods and bring them here. I've begun to understand the principle, but those, too, are unnecessary."
"Don't analyze them. You've got no sense of romance."
"Romance, in those things?"
"I mean — for me they're a sentimental point."
"Not my concern."
He'll probably gather every one of them except this Puzzle he carried back here the other day. He's the type who does what he says.
"…Hey. Did you just say 'if I die,' and 'bring them here'? You're coming? Here?"
"A human body perishes eventually. That time will come as well. What's the problem."
"For you this is the afterlife of three thousand years ago."
"And what about that is a problem."
"The place your soul is supposed to return to must be in some dimension of its own, I'd think—"
I understand. He intends to exist in both.
Just as he conveniently exists in the living world and in this one.
"Don't think you can escape."
"I know. I won't run and I won't hide. Tag and hide-and-seek are bad odds against you."
I've ended up with an outrageous rival.
To have promised a living man even the time after his death.
I may as well let this man do as he pleases.
Otherwise I'd fail to escape, be caught, have this world declared unnecessary and destroyed, and end up made to exist in some other world instead.
"That will do."
In what world does anyone take that attitude toward a king? If you're choosing this world, at least keep the condescension in moderation.
I can't win with words, so I don't say it.
"Talking with you, I'm starting to feel I should just abdicate."
"Don't abdicate. Continue."
"Why."
"If you step down, who handles the monster extermination."
"You're about the only one who sees me as nothing but combat personnel."
Then again, judging by results alone, combat personnel is all I was. Another fact, then.
"The right man in the right place. Do some work once in a while."
"I work every day. There were audiences to hold before you came barging in."
"……"
"What."
"If I threw someone like Isono in, he'd sort them efficiently, but even he can't come to this world."
Isono. Fortunate for him that he doesn't have much of an ego.
"Don't drag other people into this."
"Aren't you a king? Do you intend to leave this world inefficient forever?"
Says the man who least of all thinks of me as a king.
Though he doesn't think it — he only said it because it's a fact.
"I'll manage it somehow."
"I'll make you an efficient manual. Tell me your daily schedule."
"Let me work at my own pace."
"And when would you make time for me? Your working hours clearly need compressing."
"You're busy too. That goes both ways."
"My work can be done from here. I confirmed on arrival that communication is possible. Meetings and decisions can all be made from here."
"You can't be serious."
Who comes all the way to the afterlife and works?
But he'll do it. He said it, so he'll do it.
Here he can fight and work both. Far too rational.
"Resign yourself."
His technological power is monstrous, after all. And that monster can't be exterminated. The modernization of this afterlife is only a matter of time.
There probably isn't anyone who wouldn't welcome the progress.
"Fine. I'll have a room made for you."
"A good decision."
A puppet king. This man has no attachment to the world, so surely he wouldn't go that far, but that was how it felt.
I can't win with words.
He's apparently making progress analyzing the Millennium Items as well, so before long I'll be taken down by the power of science.
"What is the purpose that drives you this far?"
"That, Atem, is you."
I thought as much.
He keeps telling me I won't get away. He's a man who does what he says.
"Weren't you going to be satisfied once you beat me?"
"I won't be. Even if we go beyond the farthest horizon, I doubt I'll be satisfied."
"I really have ended up with quite the rival."
"Rejoice."
Am I allowed to simply rejoice?
For now, I'll give up on peace and quiet.
"Well, all right. You'll be back anyway. Let's keep this going."
"Yes. Let's."
I held out my hand, and a proper handshake came back. A large hand, gripping firmly.
"On one condition — leave the gun behind."
"What would be acceptable?"
Why does he sound like he's enjoying this.
"What do you mean, what?"
"The company's predecessor was a munitions business. My knowledge of weapons is beyond ordinary."
"No weapons, please. I'll inform everyone in advance."
"I'll refrain from bringing them in."
"Refrain from making them, too. Let's keep this peaceable. I'm aiming for a peaceful and tolerant world."
"A world without competition, then."
Damn. Did I just poke a snake out of the grass.
"Don't get any strange ideas."
If a wave of capitalization rolled in, it would be beyond handling.
"Best you get on with drafting laws, then. Fine — I'll take your wishes into account and keep it to something like a Kaiba Land."
I don't need that either. The people would probably be delighted, and since he says it he'll do it, so there's no stopping him.
The world is being encroached upon. Dyed in the color of Seto Kaiba.
I myself may only be a matter of time. Modernization and the advance of civilization are currents humanity can't avoid.
"Understood. Let's settle on that."
"For today, I'll let that suffice."
"For today… you're planning to do more?"
"There's no end of places that look ready to be touched."
"If you ask a modern person, I suppose so."
This world isn't so bad as it is.
"You were doing a fair impression of a modern person yourself not long ago."
True enough.
It seemed the CEO was about to head home. He stood, and I followed suit.
"Leaving?"
"For now."
"I'll have the room ready by next time."
His coming and his working are settled matters. There's nothing to do but accept them.
"Then, in thanks for the room, take this."
"A smartphone?"
"Correct. Contact, video, online shopping, even work — whether you'll use any of it I don't know. Use it as you like."
"I don't know anyone's contact information."
"I have the contact details of your acquaintances, at minimum. They're already registered."
Isn't that the sort of thing people call a personal-information problem? Ah — the fact that I think that way may mean the modern person hasn't quite left me yet.
And it's kind of him, but this man really isn't normal.
"That's… a help."
It was the only peaceable answer available. I can't win with words, after all.
"I'll be back soon. My request for the room: next to yours."
Next door there's only empty space. That much should be fine. If he unleashed KaibaCorp's technology somewhere out of my sight, the others would fall for him on the spot.
"Understood. Get home safely. Until next time."
"Later."
Unlike when he had forced his way in and leveled a gun barrel at me, he left with a very calm expression.
Having a next appointment with someone — that makes me a little happy.
It's something I'd avoided ever since I learned I had a place to return to.
And he says it so easily.
I've got a good rival.
I'll have to prepare the room, inform my retainers thoroughly, and get everything ready for his visits.
His hologram, still projected, really is the type that looks good when it keeps quiet. And it's confirmed that he's decent at heart. A man who wastes a great deal.
Well — there's also the part where no one knows what he's thinking.
He said he'd come soon, but when does he intend to? There's a part of me that's looking forward to it.
We only talked a little, but he's become someone I find myself thinking about. The whole world enthralled — well, that's probably fact.
I'm not enthralled. But I do find him interesting.
The CEO of a massive corporation with absurdly high technological power began, as declared, to come often.
To the point where I suspect he spends more hours in the afterlife than in the world of the living.
He works a great deal. Apparently it goes surprisingly well.
"Hey. You really do come often."
"I sleep well here. Over there I have to keep an eye out for assassination and the like."
I see. That's a less than peaceful state of affairs.
"This isn't a shelter, you know."
"It's much the same thing."
From a user's standpoint it may well be much the same — no, the very idea of "using" it is wrong to begin with.
If he really is coming here as a shelter as well, it's rational, and what he says is fact.
"Are we dueling today too? I'm ready."
I worked according to the manual he'd forced on me, just the once, and everything was cleared away with terrifying efficiency; since then it has become the standard in this world.
the afterlife was encroached upon by Seto Kaiba overnight.
"Obviously."
The man himself had taken off his suit jacket and was fitting on his Duel Disk.
It may be normal for him, but no matter how often I see it I don't get used to it.
"That suit-guy style of yours — isn't it hard to move in?"
"That school uniform is harder to move in, surely."
Put that way, I suppose they're about the same.
"So you've been thinking all along that I look hard to move in?"
"What of it, at this point. In terms of ease of movement, Joey has you beat."
So he had been thinking it.
"Well, maybe so. It's just that I can't get used to it."
What he says is reasonable, so I can't argue back.
Or rather, I doubt arguing back would go well.
"This is what I usually wear. Sometimes I run tests. I don't bother changing."
"Changing clothes is a hassle, yeah."
That usual getup of his looks like a chore to put on.
"It isn't a hassle. It's a question of efficiency and influence."
It's true that the white coat is this man's trademark.
I borrowed it once and put it on, and it suited me spectacularly badly. He's tall, so it was too long to start with.
Standing beside the hologram, my build lost by a landslide. How many gifts did heaven hand this man?
"The public image thing, then."
But I wish he'd stop attacking just as relentlessly while dressed in a suit.
For whatever reason, it feels like my win rate drops.
"We're about to fight and you're low on spirit today."
It's probably the clothes.
He hasn't noticed that it's his own fault.
"Well — how to put it — your attack points look higher."
"If you mean weapons, I'm not carrying any."
"Keep it that way."
I couldn't stand having him fire off another round.
The first went past my ear, and the next time the barrel was pointed straight at me.
Even if it was a blank, it's a terrible thing to do. Efficient for making me respond in a hurry, though.
"Have you at least drafted the laws?"
"I have. Firearms and swords control, that thing. Don't bring any. Prohibited."
"Whether it works on the dead is unclear, but what about biological weapons and poison?"
"Don't tell me you—"
"I'm not carrying any."
"Then that's fine, I suppose."
We reached the hall and started the game right away, and sure enough his attack points looked higher.
The usual coat ought to be far more intimidating. A strange thing.
"What's wrong — is that all you have?"
No — it's the mismatch with that intensity that corners me. So this is what people mean by gap.
The cards in my hand don't betray me, at least.
But somehow it saps my will to taunt, and this man couldn't care less about that.
Still — a suit is the better case.
"Hey — just don't do the lab coat."
"What are you talking about."
Once, exactly once, he came in a lab coat.
"I lose to the outfit."
"Ho. You'd blame something like that?"
That day he arrived still wearing his protective goggles with the lab coat, though he did at least take them off and hang them around his neck.
That was apparently bad for my mental health; I came out with a losing record.
"Lately you just appear inside the palace. What happened to that vehicle of yours?"
"Nanomachines."
"Nanomachines?"
"I put them in my body so it could be used anytime, anywhere. I am the device itself, so to speak."
Well, then. What a passionate rival I have.
"Should I be thanking you?"
"They can be removed at any time. There's nothing to mind."
If he says there's nothing to mind, then presumably there isn't. But it's impossible. I mind.
"Be a little choosier about your methods."
"This is the result of choosing."
The suit guy in front of me attacks relentlessly, as always. Spare me the Burst Stream.
Only the cards don't betray me. They give me peace.
Not that the suit constitutes a betrayal, exactly.
"Well, if it's the result of your own thinking, it can't be helped."
He's smart enough that no one can tell what he's thinking, after all.
When I said his necktie fluttering distracted me, he's pinned it down with a tie clip ever since, so kind is kind, I suppose.
"Your attention is scattered."
I am concentrating. And whose fault does he think it is if it looks otherwise.
It's his fault for looking good when he's quiet.
There have been losses where stray thoughts crept in — wondering whether I was shallow about faces after all.
"So is yours."
The best taunt I could manage.
"My thinking is clear."
The exchange of cards doesn't stop.
I have to concentrate harder or I'll be taken down.
Four duels, and I managed a draw — but the suit guy is poison to the eyes.
"A draw."
"Because you're thinking about unnecessary things."
What is it about him that he's like that whether he wins or loses.
The suit guy was undoing his tie and retying it. I wish he'd take it off before we start.
"Somehow I've started to understand you less and less."
"How cold-hearted. And here I'd come to understand you to a certain degree."
I don't know what "a certain degree" amounts to for this man, but if he says he's come to understand, he probably understands a great deal.
I know he isn't the type to claim understanding on guesswork, without proof.
"Sorry about that, then."
Without a word he ruffled my hair into a mess. He's been doing that a lot lately.
Don't worry about it — something like that, I suppose.
"It's nothing new."
No — if anything, it used to be worse.
"You're staying over here tonight, right?"
"Yes. I'm going to Japan tomorrow, so it works out."
"Where did you come from?"
"I was in Canada until a short while ago."
"Use a plane."
"That's what's a hassle. A waste of time."
Who travels from Canada to Japan by way of the afterlife.
I understand it's efficient, but it feels like various things are missing. In this man's case he's extreme, so it's business as usual.
"You're the only one who could say that."
"And I'm the one saying it. So there's no problem."
"Well, fair enough."
"Is your evening free?"
"Yes. Thanks to that manual."
"Splendid, isn't it."
In terms of results, it is good, I suppose.
Thanks to it, movements have started — maybe we could work more, maybe we could be more efficient.
This world has been thoroughly encroached upon.
"Something new? A game?"
"Yes. A heavyweight one, only just developed. Two players, though. It should take two hours at most."
He plays fast, so two hours at that speed feels plenty heavy to me.
"Does that include the rules rundown?"
"You don't need anything resembling a rules rundown."
"No, give me a proper one anyway."
"It's a matter of instinct. Play a little and you'll understand."
If he says so, then it must be so.
He did say he'd come to understand me to a certain degree, and in fact I've never once been stuck on rules.
That "certain degree" seems to occupy quite a lot.
"If you say so, then I'll probably understand it. I'll leave it to you, Mr. CEO."
"…True. Hiring you might be an option."
Ah — that's his serious face. This CEO is seriously trying to hire a king.
Don't put the dead to work.
"No thanks, I'm covered. I'm a dead man specializing in the occult and a monster exterminator."
Don't make me work any more than this.
I'm not a stamina monster like you.
No — an efficiency monster, rather. Either way, he's confirmed nonhuman.
"And yet the ones in this world put me to work."
"What?"
I've heard nothing about this.
"You didn't know? Mainly in the course of infrastructure work — the Kaiba construction division's offerings are well received."
"Don't tell me — are you working more than I am?"
"I'm out on site more often than you, certainly. Well — more meaningful time than sitting on a plane."
I don't understand his standard of measurement.
In any case, the CEO himself. How gracious.
"So, uh — thank you. For this world."
"It's in order to build Kaiba Land."
"You still haven't given up on that?"
"You think I give up on anything?"
Not this man. Impossible.
No compromise, no holding back. That's Seto Kaiba.
"No. I've already granted permission. Where Kaiba Land is concerned, do as you like."
The suit guy, out on a construction site.
Whether he blends into this world or not — imagining it is fairly surreal.
"Construction has already begun."
I've heard nothing about that either.
"Since when?"
"The day after I obtained permission."
Fast as ever, this CEO.
We played the game until the middle of the night, slept, and when I woke he was gone.
He must have gone to Japan.
Japan. I wonder if everyone is well.
The first day I contacted my friends was a disaster.
Just as I'd suspected, he'd gotten hold of their contact details through personal information somehow, and — unavoidably, I suppose — the display name came up as "Seto Kaiba," so on the answering end,
Aibou huffed at me, "Honestly, Kaiba!"
Joey yelled, "You bastard, Kaiba!"
Tristan picked up normally but was considerably startled,
Téa didn't answer for a while so I left a message, though that was down to the time difference,
Ryou Bakura, coldly enough, spent a while believing I was Seto Kaiba exactly as the display name said,
and only Duke was his usual self.
I'd have preferred he sort out the contact list before this world's infrastructure.
If I'd said so at the start he might have handled it, but there's no way I could have imagined that far ahead.
I'll pull an image out of the log and lodge a complaint or two.
My selection: yesterday's suit guy. Visuals matter.
I pulled yesterday's suit guy out of the Duel Disk's log and was complaining at him when particles of light gathered — ugh, the man himself had arrived.
Different from yesterday, but a suit guy again. Poison to the eyes.
"Atem? What are you doing?"
"What about you? Weren't you going to Japan?"
Two suit guys. He's a man who looks good when he's silent. So please don't be silent.
"To collect a device to adapt for the Kaiba Land here. So — is there something wrong with yesterday's me?"
"I had… business with your face."
What is this sense of having been caught in something embarrassing.
"……"
No — please, I'm begging you, don't go silent. It's embarrassing.
"Kaiba?"
This is hopeless. His shoulders are shaking; he's holding back laughter.
I'd rather he just threw his head back and laughed it off.
"Hm. I see. So that's it."
"That's what?"
"You don't see it? You've finally fallen for me."
"Fallen? I'm in love with you? You can't be serious."
"I'd faintly sensed the signs, at least."
Faintly? Since when.
It can't be. No — but this man says nothing but facts.
And he certainly does look good when he's quiet.
"Damn it. What am I, just shallow about faces?"
"Rest easy, that's not it. Atem, what you like about me is the behavioral side. Decision-making through to capacity for action."
"Liar. It isn't the face?"
"I say nothing but facts. But if you like the appearance as well, isn't that a good thing? Rejoice to your heart's content."
Nothing but facts. Well — I know perfectly well that that's true.
Even if it's fact, it can't be helped.
It can't be helped — and yet.
There's something I have to do first. Resist.
"Let me resist my own feelings, just a little."
"To what end."
"It's too sudden. I'm confused. I want to sort it out."
"A futile resistance. Do as you like."
"See, our worlds are different."
"I exist in both worlds."
He'd probably resolve whatever other problems I raised, too.
I can't win with words, after all.
"I'm a king and you're a CEO, and we're both men."
"It's a peaceful and tolerant world, isn't it."
I did say that. Is his memory a monster too?
"And you're not in love with me yet."
"When are you talking about. I've cared for you for ages."
Bad. Resolved instantly.
"No way. When?"
"I noticed when I fired the shot. Everything is worth an experiment."
Isn't that awful?
"Something like that really should have come in a more casual moment. Unlike you, I'm delicate."
"I thought as much, which is why I prepared casual moments for you."
Ah, true. Playing games while talking — plenty of casual moments had been prepared.
"So I walked right into your scheme."
"Who can say. Now — is the futile resistance finished?"
I'll give up. I'll admit it.
The resistance ended in futility.
I know full well that once this man is chasing me, there's no getting away.
"Yes. I surrender. Let's keep this going."
"Yes. Let's."
I held out my hand, and it was gripped firmly, as before.
Well — the suit guy looks pleased, so this is fine.
I'll follow his example and stop apologizing for it.
Spring has come, as they say.
I'm dead, and I've ended up with a living lover. That much should be permitted.
Extremely good-looking, a dead-center strike on my type. Too smart for anyone to know what he's thinking. Actually kind, the sort who looks after people. What I like most is apparently the behavioral side, though I have no awareness of it. That's the lover I have.
