Seto dismisses meaning, purpose, and years of loyal service alike as self-satisfaction — and means it, every time. Yugi keeps waiting for that logic to crack, for some exception to be made for what they have.
When an assassin's grief exposes exactly how far Seto's philosophy goes, Yugi has to decide whether "I'm here because I want to be" is enough of an answer after all.
This is a translation of an original work on Pixiv.
Original Title: それだけの話
Original Author: 葉人(@Hathor₋yuki)
Personal site: https://prideshipping.sakura.ne.jp
Before the sun sank fully. The sky settling into blue.
Yugi paced from the window to the door, from the door to the desk, from the desk back to the window — some count of times he'd already lost track of.
The half-finished letter dried on the desk, stopped just short of the signature. It had been that way since evening.
The footsteps never came with any warning.
Eventually, the door opened, unhurried.
"I was waiting for you, Seto."
Seto undid the clasp of his cloak without even looking at Yugi.
"I know."
That was all.
Yugi went to close the door behind Seto. His hand on the lock was steady now, the kind of steady that only comes with habit. A few months ago, it had trembled, just slightly.
Seto had already settled into a chair. His tall frame made the room look small. It was a scene both familiar to this room, and not.
The commander of the white rose, in the hideout of the red rose's prince. That had lived in Yugi, these past few months, as something foreign.
"Some tea—"
"Not necessary."
Yugi laughed. Seto said that every time. And every time, he drank it anyway.
They sat facing each other.
Outside the window, a bird flying home to the mountains called out, once.
"About going into town..."
Seto brought it up.
He'd spoken of going out before, but no promise had actually been made.
"Next time I come. While the sun's still high."
"You, in daylight."
"Is there a problem."
Considering their positions, there was nothing but problems. The commander of the white rose, walking the daylit streets with the exiled prince of the red rose.
But Seto never treated that kind of problem as a problem.
Through their repeated meetings, Yugi had come to understand this about him.
"No, there isn't."
Yugi answered so, and took a sip of his own tea.
Seto stood and came around behind Yugi's chair. A hand settled on his shoulder from behind. Yugi closed his eyes.
The weight of it was familiar now.
"You..."
Seto murmured, low, close to his ear.
"What do you do, while I'm gone?"
"Write letters. Otherwise, wait for you."
"Just waiting?"
"Something wrong with that?"
Seto didn't answer. Instead, he drew Yugi's head close and kissed his temple. Brief. Then he pressed his face once to Yugi's hair, and pulled away again.
Yugi opened his eyes. Outside the window, it had already gone dark.
Seto took up his cloak. He glanced back at Yugi from the doorway, and left without a word.
Listening to the footsteps growing distant, Yugi went to lock the door. His hand, still, was steady.
The sun hadn't fully risen yet. A trace of morning cold still lingered in the air.
Only after turning the corner did Yugi notice the crowds thickening in the street.
"A procession."
Seto murmured.
People had begun gathering along the road. A mother lifting her child, an old man kneeling, a merchant crossing himself. All of them looking the same direction.
"Ah — today's the day the relic is carried through, then."
Yugi slowed his pace. There was the option to turn back, but Seto didn't stop. Yugi followed a little behind his back as it wove through the crowd.
The head of the procession came into view.
Priests draped in white cloth carried a box holding the relic. Incense burned, hymns rang low. People along the road knelt, one after another, like a wave through a field of wheat.
Right beside Yugi, an old woman was crying. Hands clasped together, bowing her head over and over. He didn't know what she was praying for, or whether it was a prayer at all. But he wasn't entirely without an idea, either. Someone lost. A sickness that wouldn't heal. Tomorrow's bread.
A little further off, a young mother was lifting her small child up high, so he could see the relic. The child didn't seem to understand anything, but the mother's desperation carried through all the same.
The procession passed in front of them.
"...Pointless."
Seto was already looking past the procession, but Yugi was still watching it.
"No — they need saving."
Yugi was a little surprised at how quiet his own voice came out.
"Saving, hm."
Seto didn't look at Yugi. His gaze shifted instead to the old woman crying along the road.
"Do you honestly believe that thing will save her."
Yugi didn't answer. Not because he couldn't. It was because he had two answers.
She won't be saved.
In his heart of hearts, he thought the old woman's wish wouldn't reach anywhere. Whether the relic held power or not, what was lost wouldn't come back, and a sickness that couldn't be cured wouldn't be cured. Yugi knew that.
Even so, they needed something to cling to. Somewhere to reach out toward — there were people who couldn't go on living without it. Yugi knew that too.
"I think I understand what you're getting at."
His voice held no interest. The two answers inside Yugi were left hanging in the air, both of them, unclaimed.
Once the procession passed, the people rose again, returning to their day.
As if nothing had happened at all.
Seto had already started walking toward the next street.
"Let's go."
"...Yeah, alright."
Yugi followed that back, a little behind.
They returned to the hideout a little past noon.
When Yugi opened the door, there was already a sense that tea was being prepared. Jean appeared from the far end of the hallway.
"You're back, my lord. I'll bring the tea now."
Yugi's longtime attendant, who had served House Lancaster for many years. One of the few who'd accompanied him into exile, gray now beginning to show in his hair. Even so, the movement of his hands hadn't changed a bit.
Seto had settled into his chair. There wasn't the faintest trace of wariness in the way he removed his cloak, toward Jean. Nor in Jean, toward him. He simply treated Seto as the prince's guest. Nothing more.
Jean had no idea who Seto really was.
The tea set was brought in. Three cups. Jean set his own apart and took a seat in the attendant's chair.
Yugi allowed him to join them like this, from time to time. Jean knew that.
"It's a rare thing, seeing you go out with a friend."
Jean said, his voice mild.
"Rare, is it."
"Yes. It's been quite some time since Your Highness looked forward to something in that way."
He sounded pleased, as if it were his own good fortune.
Yugi lowered his eyes to the tea set. Seto said nothing.
"Your Highness used to slip out of the castle often, when he was small..."
Jean went on. Not toward Yugi — toward Seto. A small piece of old history, meant to keep a guest from growing bored.
"He'd go into the woods with the stable boy's son, and wouldn't come back even after the sun went down. The whole castle in an uproar. When we finally found him, he was soaked through, trying to catch fish in the river..."
"Jean."
Yugi stopped him, quietly. Jean laughed.
"Forgive me. But that mischievous young prince has grown into someone so fine. It's been worth every year of service."
There was pride in that voice. The kind that never wavers, in someone who has served for years.
Seto took a sip of his tea.
"Not much has changed, even now."
"Even you, Seto..."
"That's a good thing, isn't it. I'll bring more."
Jean said that, and withdrew with his own empty cup. The door closed, and his calm footsteps faded down the hallway.
"...Pointless."
Seto let it slip.
Yugi's hand, halfway to setting down his cup, stopped. He hadn't misheard.
"...What did you say."
"What value is there, in having served long."
Something in Yugi couldn't keep up.
"Seto, what are you—"
"Time has no meaning in itself. Someone did something for a long while. That's all it is."
Seto was looking into his cup.
"Whoever thinks there's value in that is only indulging his own self-satisfaction."
Yugi stood.
"Jean's decades of service, and you—"
"I know."
Seto lifted his face and looked at Yugi.
"I know it. But that's a separate matter from this."
Yugi started to say something, and stopped. Not because he couldn't find the words.
He understood there was no point continuing this argument.
From the far end of the hallway, Jean's footsteps came, carrying more tea. Calm, ordinary footsteps, same as always.
Yugi sat back down, silent.
Seto said nothing more, either.
Jean set down the fresh tea and withdrew again, quietly.
This time, the room truly held only the two of them.
Yugi didn't reach for his cup, only stared silently at the grain of the table's wood. His gaze was lowered, but he wasn't really looking at anything. In his mind, the same words kept turning over.
Time has no meaning in itself.
Jean's decades. That smiling face, saying he'd served so long. And that same Jean, just now, bringing tea without knowing any of this. Steaming, ordinary tea, the same as always.
"Yugi."
Seto's voice, close to his ear.
Yugi hadn't noticed him stand. Seto was already behind him. A hand settled on his shoulder. The familiar weight.
He drew Yugi to his feet like that, and led him toward the bed. Yugi's back touched the bed, and Seto looked down at him from above.
Seto's expression was as gentle as ever.
The same face Yugi had seen so many times these past few months. Not the commander's face, not the traveler's. The face only Yugi knew.
With that same face, this was the man who, only moments ago, had dismissed Jean as "self-satisfaction."
Seto leaned his face closer.
Yugi, without meaning to, turned his face away.
He hadn't even realized he'd done it, until it was already done.
"Yugi?"
Seto stopped. His voice held a note of puzzlement. The same quiet voice as always.
Yugi was just as surprised as Seto. At the edge of his vision, the bedpost.
"...Sometimes... you feel far away."
His voice didn't sound like his own.
"You're living for a purpose, aren't you. Chasing after what your family's been searching for, this whole time, and you—"
The words wouldn't continue. He didn't fully understand, himself, what he meant to say. Only this much was clear: that Seto was right there, and yet, felt far away.
Seto didn't move from above him. There was a short pause.
"...A purpose, hm."
Seto's voice didn't change.
"There's no value in a thing like that."
Yugi closed his eyes.
He'd known Seto would say that. He'd known it, and asked anyway. Even so, maybe he'd wanted something to be different.
Seto's weight shifted slightly on the bed. Not pulling away — only watching Yugi.
Yugi had nothing to answer with.
"Yugi."
His name, again. Not a voice asking for a reply. A voice telling him only that he was here.
Yugi didn't open his eyes.
Seto lifted himself up from over him, and sat down on the edge of the bed instead. The hand that touched Yugi's hair was, still, gentle.
"I'll come again."
Seto said.
"Somewhere quiet... I'll take you outside again."
Yugi opened his eyes and looked up at Seto.
Seto's face was, as always, unchanged. Nothing had shifted at all. He'd taken in the fact that Yugi had turned away, that he'd said he felt distant — and none of it had changed a thing.
Yugi nodded, faintly.
Seto bent down and kissed Yugi's lips, lightly. Brief. At the familiar pace, the familiar warmth.
Then he stood, and took up his cloak. He looked back once from the doorway, and left without a word.
The strength to go lock the door didn't return to him right away.
Seto came as promised.
A few days later, in the afternoon.
Their destination — the forest — was about half an hour's ride from the hideout. Inland France, a forest with few watchmen. The leaves of the deciduous trees were still green, blocking the sun overhead.
They dismounted and walked side by side along the narrow path.
Seto was, as always, unchanged. He didn't bring up either the moment Yugi had turned away, or the words about feeling distant.
He didn't seem to mind. That was the kind of man he was. Unless Yugi brought it up himself, Seto never touched on it.
Yugi glanced up at him now and then. The profile walking beside him hadn't changed a bit.
—A purpose, hm. There's no value in a thing like that.
That voice still hadn't faded, inside Yugi.
If Seto's purpose held no value, then what was this time, right now, of Seto walking beside him? Yugi was searching for an answer. And, in searching, he was also aware that he couldn't find one.
Yugi stepped on a dead branch underfoot, without noticing. A branch he would normally have avoided.
"Yugi."
Seto's voice was lower than usual.
That it was a warning, Yugi understood, at almost the same instant a blade cut through the air.
Perhaps because his mind had been elsewhere, Yugi's reaction came late.
A blade flying in from the side should have grazed Yugi's shoulder. It didn't, because Seto's arm came between them. Seto's sword was already drawn. The sound of deflection, the high ring of metal meeting metal.
Yugi stepped back from Seto, reading the presences around them as he retreated. Even as he stepped back, he recognized his own delay. Normally, he would have dodged it without any trouble.
The attacker was alone.
A black cloak, a covered face, a lean build. The man closed the distance again. Seto's sword met him.
The exchange didn't last long.
Seto was strong. Yugi knew that. He knew, too, that the movements of a man who stood on the battlefield as commander were different from those of a mere guard. The instant the man's sword caught on Seto's cloak, Seto didn't miss it. On the next step forward, he drove into the man's side, and the man dropped to his knees.
Seto set the tip of his sword against the man's throat.
"Who hired you."
The man, breathing hard, seemed to laugh, beneath his covering.
"No one... hired me."
Blood ran from the corner of his mouth.
"Prince of the red rose... if you people hadn't started this war..."
The man's voice trembled.
"My village was burned. My wife. My children. How much... how much have I trained, to kill you... damn it, and the meaning of that..."
Yugi couldn't move. The substance of the man's words was seeping into him. A village burned. A wife and children. Yugi couldn't say he had no part in it.
"What value is there, in your effort."
Seto said.
His voice was low. No anger, no contempt — only a voice stating fact.
"Your village was burned. Your wife and children died. That's what happened. However many years you spent on this, what happened doesn't change."
Seto didn't draw back his sword.
"Whoever thinks those years meant something is only indulging his own self-satisfaction."
The man's eyes went wide.
He might have meant to say something back. But it never became words. Seto's sword moved, once, and the man didn't move again.
The forest fell back into silence.
Yugi stood frozen.
Seto was wiping his sword, unceremoniously, on the man's cloak. Then he sheathed it, and turned back to Yugi.
"You're not hurt."
"...No."
"Let's go back."
Seto said it, short.
Yugi nodded. He followed Seto's back as he started walking, a little behind.
Walking back along the forest path, Yugi kept almost turning to look back, and didn't.
After returning from the forest, they spent a while with few words between them.
Yugi drank about half the tea Jean brought. Seto had already finished his. The sun tilted, the light outside the window growing long.
Yugi glanced at Seto now and then, started to say something, and didn't. Seto watched this too, but didn't press him.
Once the sun had fully set, Seto stood.
He took Yugi's hand. The same familiar gesture. Yugi rose as he was pulled up, and they headed toward the bedroom.
Yugi's responses were faint.
He wasn't refusing. He walked when his hand was pulled, entered when the door opened, sat when urged to sit on the bed. Only, every motion came half a beat late.
Seto noticed. And, knowing it, went on anyway, without a word.
He sat beside Yugi and touched his hair.
"Yugi."
There was no answer.
Seto didn't press further, but his hand stayed, resting in Yugi's hair.
The bedroom was quiet. The wind rattled the window.
"...Seto."
Yugi opened his mouth.
"Does this time hold any meaning."
Seto's hand didn't stop. The motion of combing through his hair continued, unchanged.
"I'm here because I want to be here."
Seto's voice was low, without hesitation.
"That's all it is."
Yugi lowered his eyes. Whether that was the answer he'd wanted to hear, or hadn't, he didn't know himself.
It wasn't that he wanted Seto to say it held meaning. Yugi knew Seto wasn't that kind of man.
So it wasn't that he'd wanted him to lie about meaning, either.
Only — maybe he'd wanted something to be contained in the words "I'm here because I want to be."
Yugi lifted his face, slowly.
"Then — are you 'satisfied.'"
Seto's hand stopped, in his hair.
There was a short pause. The corner of his mouth curved.
"...Deeply."
Yugi looked at Seto.
Seto's expression was the same face Yugi always knew. Not the commander's face, not the traveler's — the face only Yugi knew.
With that same face, Seto had answered, "Deeply."
No meaning. No value. Time spent long doesn't produce anything on its own. And he wasn't here because of some purpose, either.
However you looked at it, this time didn't fit anything Seto had ever dismissed as "pointless."
Seto was satisfied.
Yugi finally let out a breath.
Seto's hand began moving again. From his hair, slowly, down to the nape of his neck. Yugi didn't close his eyes. He kept watching Seto.
"Seto."
"What."
"...Maybe I'm the same."
Seto seemed to smile, just slightly. He didn't say it aloud, but Yugi knew.
The hand that laid Yugi down on the bed was gentle, and carried a weight he'd long since grown used to.
