Mokuba confiscates his brother's phone and sends them both to an island.
Diving, a logbook, the angel's ladder seen from the seabed, sunsets neither of them mentions.
Kaiba stops himself from handing over a jacket. Atem learns the word return can carry pain.
Neither says the thing that would force a choice.
With that one line, Seto's schedule collapsed in an instant.
Mokuba had roped in the board members and, entirely on his own initiative, launched something called the "CEO Holiday Acquisition Project."
Before he could crush it the way he always did, the holiday was scheduled, and the destination had already been decided as well.
"The sea?"
Seto's brow drew together, openly.
"I prefer a place with a foundation under it to one made of sand."
"But I think Atem would enjoy it, too."
Mokuba grinned.
"Even you need time now and then when you aren't constructing anything, Nii-sama."
"Half a month is too long. One day."
"Two weeks, then."
"Two days."
After a skirmish along those lines, Seto grudgingly consented.
One week.
The destination: a private villa owned by the Kaiba family. A quiet island in the tropics, ringed by deep blue sea and white sand.
His mobile terminal, and even his cards, were confiscated by Mokuba, and for the first time in a long while Seto found himself forced into a state of complete offline.
Atem stood narrowing his eyes at a beach he was seeing for the first time.
The salt wind stirred his hair, and the sound of waves came in without pause.
That resonance was a sound that existed nowhere in Atem's memory.
"Atem. It's the sea. Do not go in carelessly."
"This was not something one could see in the desert. It is different from a harbour, too."
"It is the reverse of the desert. There is no end in sight."
At Seto's short reply, Atem smiled faintly.
"What do you make of this vastness?"
"Unmeasurable."
"That is not what I meant. Something more… healing, or some such. Is there nothing of that kind?"
"There is not. …It is not bad, though."
That Seto was not honest with himself was hardly news.
But since he had gone so far as to say not bad, it must be fine, Atem decided to think.
A wave swept his feet out from under him, and white foam passed between his fingers.
Seto's voice was dry, but there was the smallest measure of release resting in his profile.
Sensing the change, Atem felt, deep in his chest, a small relief that Seto too had time like this.
The waves came in quietly and drew back again.
Out on the water, the small cruiser Seto was piloting drew a white wake.
"My work is to bring enjoyment to children."
Seto flung it out, short.
"You are no exception."
"So I am being treated as a child?"
Atem laughed, wry.
"It is a fact, is it not. Speaking in terms of mental age."
His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, but Seto's mouth loosened faintly.
At the light remark, Atem laughed as well, as though recovering an innocence he had long since forgotten.
Perhaps the research had been making him stiff.
The sea wind stroked his cheek, and the smell of the tide tickled his nose.
Sunlight scattered across the surface, the glittering grains falling as though from the sky.
"We're going. Just as I taught you, rookie diver."
Saying it, Seto urged Atem, in his wetsuit, towards the side of the boat.
"I'm counting on you, buddy."
"I do not care for that form of address…"
"But I wasn't taught any other one, was I?"
Atem drew a small breath to steady himself and, just as he had been taught, threw himself backward into the sea.
In the instant the water wrapped around his body, the world inverted.
Sound vanished, and in its place only his own breathing resonated.
The noise of air passing through the regulator was the one and only life in the world.
The deeper he descended, the heavier the water grew.
His chest was pressed, and the flow of his blood sounded faintly deep in his ears.
Somewhere past eight metres, a coldness ran through his body.
But that coldness, if anything, let him confirm that he was alive.
Atem descended a little deeper still.
Not so very deep. From descending, to remaining. When he had steadied his breathing, something burst open deep in Atem's chest.
At the bottom of the sea a quiet world spread out, blue and green dissolving into each other.
The clarity was high, the visibility good.
Light wavered, and sand lifted faintly.
Steadying his body, and yet not resisting the current.
He caught hold of the rocks and peered further in.
When he picked up a shell, Seto immediately sent the hand signal for put it back.
Atem gave a small nod and released it from his fingertips.
The feel of the shell slipping between his fingers was strangely real.
Presently he lay back against the seabed, face up.
Looking up, light came pouring down through the surface of the water.
That light linked together like a ladder, and bubbles rose slowly.
As though returning to heaven.
So this is what it is to be alive.
No voice came out.
But deep in his chest, something beat, unmistakably.
When he turned, Seto was there.
Underwater, their gazes met through the goggles, and a short nod passed between them.
In that instant, something more certain than words flowed into his heart.
He was only supposed to return.
And yet now, deep in his chest, there was heat.
Something was tangling itself, without question, into the world of the living.
When he broke the surface, Seto was laughing.
"Well? Even a king of the desert will admit that living water isn't bad."
"…Yes. This is not bad. Light was coming down through it. It's brighter than I expected."
"What you saw was the angel's ladder."
"The angel's ladder…"
Atem's voice vanished into the sound of the waves.
Deep in Seto's eyes, something wavered faintly.
The holiday by the sea was longer, and quieter, than expected.
No suits, no cards.
Only the sound of waves and wind marking out the time.
For the first time in a long while, Seto had more time of doing nothing than he knew what to do with.
But strangely, he was not bored.
Beside him Atem was recording his dives in the logbook, gazing out at the sea. That alone was enough to fill the air.
"Kaiba. The sea is calm today."
"Yes. Less wind than yesterday. Shall we go down once more?"
"Yes… hm? …We can't dive yet, can we? By the calculation, there is too much nitrogen left."
"Correct, rookie."
Idle exchanges like that were oddly comfortable.
Atem laughed.
That profile looked vivid, catching the light.
He is alive.
That obvious fact pierced Seto's chest.
He understood it in principle.
Once the research resumed, Atem would no longer be here.
The purpose had been to arrive at the outcome of returning.
But watching Atem as he was now, that ending suddenly seemed nothing short of cruel.
What is there to be afraid of.
Seto asked himself.
No answer came.
He only confirmed, out of the corner of his eye, the existence beside him.
Waves broke, light wavered.
For as long as time allowed, the two of them dove.
Walking the promenade that led down to the sea, Atem closed his palm faintly.
The temperature of the salt wind remained on his skin as proof of life, something that could be felt only in the world of the living.
He knew it was beautiful.
And at the same time, he understood that the more beautiful he found it, the further away receded the crossroads at which he must choose.
"…I know. It's all right."
It was a soliloquy that spilled out, directed at no one.
The certainty of Seto being beside him, and the gentleness of the world's light — both were the sort of thing one was not meant to touch for long, and Atem was more aware of it than anyone.
Even so, his feet did not stop.
Knowing that the time to choose would come, Atem was not strong enough to halt his own steps in the face of that beauty.
They came up from the sea and sat side by side on the sand.
The sun had tilted, and the shadows had grown a little longer. Only the sound of the waves was close.
Brushing back his wet hair, Seto noticed a faint heat left in his chest.
It was not the seawater.
He searched for reasons over and over, like adjusting an exposure, but none of the explanations fit.
"…No. This is not in the plan."
A small miscalculation had begun, slowly, to take on a shape deep in his chest.
Atem was holding down his wet hair, steadying his breathing without hurry.
What he was thinking was impossible to know.
But it was a quiet motion, as though he were confirming the temperature of this world one degree at a time.
Without meaning to, Seto was watching that profile.
A single drop fell from Atem's hair and was drunk into the sand.
In that instant, the wind stopped.
The only sound reaching his ears was the waves, and the surroundings went strangely quiet.
Seto very nearly called out to him.
There was no reason for it.
Only that Atem breathing in the middle of this stillness seemed, for some reason, like something he must not take his eyes off.
But at once he turned his own gaze aside.
A sensation like this was not even worth analysing.
"…We're moving."
At the short announcement Atem smiled faintly and rose. Turning back to look at the sea, a smile surfaced on his face.
That smile swayed in the light off the water, where the wind had returned.
Lit by the evening sun, Atem was gazing at the sea with a calm expression.
At the sight of him, Seto's chest creaked, just slightly.
For some reason the sound of the wind, which should have come back, felt far away.
"Are you thinking about something?"
"No. …Only that I thought it was beautiful."
As though matching Atem's murmur, the sea wind fell calm. Only the sound of the waves remained.
That stillness was seeping out of Atem himself — Seto could not help but understand it.
The instant he understood, his breath stopped for a single beat.
Troublesome, he thought — and still could not tear his gaze away.
Seto looked at that profile and swallowed his words.
So long as you find this world beautiful, the tangle will not come undone.
He could no longer say it.
To tell him that would set Atem wavering again, force him to choose again.
The road back to the afterlife, or a future of wandering alive.
So that he would not have to choose, Seto kept his mouth shut.
"I see."
He answered only that instead. Seto's voice was slightly rough.
The sinking sun dissolved into the sea, and sky and water stained the same colour.
Atem drew in a quiet breath.
Deep in his chest it was warm, and a little painful.
What it was, he could not yet put into words.
I like this time. The instant he thought it, Atem lowered his eyes slightly.
That he was a being who must return felt, faintly, like something to fear.
As though shaking off the emotion, he spoke in a calm voice.
"Kaiba. Shall we dive again tomorrow?"
"…Yes. As many times as you wish. I can teach you to pilot the boat as well."
"That is tempting."
"…Shall we go back. It's getting cold."
Seto's words were short, almost like an escape route.
Atem began walking.
Wet sand stuck to the soles of his feet, peeled away, and stuck again.
The repetition was like the footfalls of one who walks without having decided, and Seto narrowed his eyes.
Atem wore the face of a man who understood.
It was not that he would not choose.
It was the reality that he must choose one or the other.
When that awareness settled in Seto's chest, something inside him creaked quietly.
What Atem had seen at the bottom of the sea, the light and the dark he had touched. The weight of the silence crossed Seto's mind.
As things stood, the gates of the Underworld would not open.
The image of Atem standing rooted before the gate, and of himself watching it, overlapped.
What had been born in Seto's chest was neither protection nor pity, but a colour altogether different.
It was something that would crumble and scatter if named, and never reach if left unnamed.
Carrying it, Seto simply walked.
Deliberately keeping himself from noticing how naturally his stride fell into step with Atem's.
"…Kaiba. About what happened earlier…"
Atem lowered his voice.
It was a voice that might have vanished into the sea wind, but Seto heard it.
——I had meant to return. And yet I wavered.
That thought, which never became words, only Seto picked up.
"I'll hear it later."
The short reply was neither refusal nor kindness.
It held only the readiness to receive.
Atem slowed his pace and let out a breath.
It was the breath of one stronger than anyone, more fragile than anyone, and more than anyone trying to live.
Seto noticed it, and still did not say it.
Choose. By your own will.
Only those words stayed lodged at the back of his throat, and dissolved into the sound of the sea.
Wind blew, and waves came in.
Behind that sound, the beats of their two hearts quietly overlapped.
It was the sound of a soul beginning to erode.
The night sea wore a different face from the day's.
The moon lit the waves as though sliding across them, and the wind stroked skin slowly.
That sensation stayed on Atem's cheek, on his fingertips, unmistakably.
"…The smell of the wind is different."
Beside him, Seto stood with his arms crossed.
Atem nodded and drew the night air deep into his chest.
The air was cool, and it soaked into the depths of his lungs.
That coldness was oddly comfortable.
The felt sense of being alive.
A sensation he had thought he would never feel again existed here, in this place, as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world.
The sound of waves.
Distant lights.
The lingering trace of a human voice.
One by one, they thinned the death inside Atem.
I am a being who must return. He thought it as though telling it to himself.
But deep in his chest there was a faint ache.
For the first time, the word return resonated carrying pain.
Seto turned his gaze over.
"What is it. Have you got cold?"
"No, that isn't it."
Atem shook his head slightly.
It was not cold. It was that he was feeling.
The temperature of this world.
The breathing of this world.
The place where Seto stood. There, the weight of the living world lay.
That voice, those gestures, that breath.
All of it was vividly, unmistakably life.
Gazing at that profile, Atem held a thought that would not become words.
For this one moment alone, he wanted to live somewhere in the world of the living, not in the afterlife.
Without reason, without logic, he simply thought it.
This is an emotion I must not hold. He knew.
And still, deep in his chest, the ache.
Waves came in and drew back.
Atem understood. As the footprints left in the sand would eventually vanish, this time too would end someday.
Even so.
A little longer — I want to keep touching this world. The thought sank quietly to the bottom of his heart, and the tangle of souls changed its shape once more.
The night was quiet, as though holding its breath.
The sound of the waves was distant, and there was almost no sign of wind.
Only the light of the moon fell on the water, blurring white.
Seto sat on the edge of the bed, gazing out the window.
He looked as though he were thinking about something, and equally as though he were thinking about nothing.
Each time the thin curtain stirred faintly, light stroked his cheek.
That outline was, at moments, too faint to be taken for anything real.
Atem looked at his back.
There was no sign of him sleeping.
"…Do you dream, as well?"
He asked it, a single quiet drop.
Seto looked back over his shoulder.
"Dreams. I have stopped having them lately."
He answered only that, and returned his gaze to the window.
A short silence fell inside the room.
The stillness was drawn taut, like the surface of water.
Each time their breathing faintly overlapped, the air wavered.
Atem smiled, by the barest margin.
"Then perhaps now is a dream."
Seto said nothing.
But at those words, for just an instant, he showed the sign of something like pain running through him.
The meaning of that pain, Atem felt he knew.
When the dream ends, it is over.
This calm stretch of time, this distance close enough to touch, the smell of the wind, the temperature of the night. All of it.
Seto closed his eyes.
"…Perhaps so."
The low murmur mixed with the sound of the waves and vanished.
In that instant a thin wind came in through the gap in the curtain and carried off a little of the room's warmth.
As though a dream were quietly backing away.
Atem only looked at that profile, quietly.
Deep in his chest, a pain without shape seeped through.
Why is it. That this world I am looking at now should feel so beautiful I cannot bear it.
The meaning of that emotion, Seto did not yet ask.
But within that silence, the tangle had already been bound past any undoing.
And deep in his heart, he wished, a small wish.
That this dream might go on, just a little longer.
The setting sun stained the half-sunk sea red.
The two of them walked to the far end of the beach without a word.
With every step Seto took, the dry sand made its sound.
Atem walked quietly behind him, stopping now and then as though confirming the sinking light.
"…Are you watching the sunset."
At Seto's question, Atem shook his head.
"I only want to remember it."
"Remember what."
"This colour."
Seto gave nothing back.
The waves came in and drew back as though waiting for it.
Beneath the sinking sun, two shadows stretched long.
Seto looked at those shadows once.
At the single instant where his shadow and Atem's crossed.
The wind grew a little colder.
As though noticing, Atem hunched his shoulders.
Seto started to hand over his jacket, and stopped his hand halfway.
Though there should have been no reason anywhere to do such a thing.
"We're going back."
Only the voice saying it, short, was drawn into the sinking light.
Night came, the sea grew still, and the wind stopped.
Only the sound of waves marked out a steady rhythm in the distance.
Seto still could not sleep.
He tried to calculate the reason he could not sleep.
But it fit none of the parameters.
When Atem closed his eyes, Seto let out a small breath.
He knew that now was when he could put distance between them, and yet no part of his body moved.
If I am going to stop, it is now.
Understanding it, in the end he could not take his eyes away until he had confirmed the sound of Atem's sleeping breath.
In the room with the lights put out, only Atem's breathing was faintly audible.
Within that stillness there was a strange sense of reality.
Soft as a dream, and for all that, a life so certain it hurt.
The next morning, the sun rises.
The wind blows, and the waves begin to move again.
The holiday ends.
