Three weeks in, Atem wakes up feeling off. It is not a cold. Kaiba arranges a doctor, a very determined maid takes charge of the medication, and Atem spends most of the day asleep thinking about what it means to carry a life. Then early summer arrives, and so does Téa — and what follows is an afternoon of arcade games, window shopping, crepes, and the kind of conversation Atem is only just learning to call girls-only.
This is a translation of an original work on Pixiv.
Original Title: 02 ガールズトーク
Original Author: 葉人(@Hathor₋yuki)
Personal site: https://prideshipping.sakura.ne.jp
That morning, Atem had woken up feeling heavy and sluggish, with a headache and a stomachache. Maybe she’d caught a cold.
Japan’s weather was unpredictable — that much was unavoidable. Apparently this time of year was called sankan-shion, warm days and cold days trading off in turns.
Atem threw on an extra thin layer and headed to the dining room.
There, unusually, was Seto — still home, not yet at work. Mornings were normally just Mokuba and Atem.
Mokuba aside — well, Mokuba wasn’t ideal either — but infecting his brother was a real problem. Even feeling unwell, Seto would choose work over rest.
After all, just like Priest Seto, this man was the type who worked an extraordinary amount.
“Morning. Hey, I think I might be coming down with something, so I’m going to go back to bed.”
She said it plainly and tried to leave at once, but Seto caught her — let me see your face — and started asking about her symptoms.
There was no point in hiding it, so Atem answered honestly.
“I feel a bit heavy. Headache, stomachache.”
“You look pale. Any chills?”
“No.”
“Fever?”
“Probably not.”
Seto pressed a hand to Atem’s forehead, confirmed there was no fever, and went quiet for a moment.
Being studied that closely was uncomfortable. Whatever he was thinking, his expression had gone unreadable.
Then, as though forcing it out, he asked one more question.
“...Any lower back pain?”
“Yeah, actually.”
Seto’s eyes sharpened for a few seconds. Then he sighed.
“I’ll arrange a doctor. If you can eat, have breakfast first — and make sure you listen to what she says. No skipping out.”
“It’s not that serious, is it?”
“Not yet. You’ll understand soon enough. Promise me you’ll listen.”
It would be a few more days before Atem understood what he meant — but when the doctor explained it that day, Atem thought her head might give out entirely.
So this is what he meant.
Don’t fight the cramps — take the medication, rest when the fatigue hits.
Did every woman in the world endure this?
Which meant Téa, always so cheerful, must have had days like this too.
Atem was down for the count, levelled by period pain.
The look in Seto’s eyes from that morning came back to her. He had probably figured it out — that this was coming, and soon.
Being suddenly given a sex education lecture by a doctor had been startling enough, but Atem was still impressed that Seto had worked it out. He might have guessed, but the cycle, the timing — there was no way he could have known the specifics. Strange. Puzzling, even.
This, the doctor had said, was proof that the body was ready to bring new life into the world. This body could carry a child. Whether that day would ever come, Atem didn’t know — but it was something profound. Without thinking, she had laid a hand gently over her stomach.
Come to think of it, she was very sleepy.
She must have drifted off without noticing. When she came to, it was already evening. She rubbed her still-heavy eyes, but hunger was there alongside the drowsiness.
The painkiller seemed to be working — the pain had eased, though there was still a dull awareness in her abdomen. She glanced toward the bathroom. Third time. She was nowhere near used to it, honestly — but she followed the doctor’s instructions, changed the sanitary product, and made her way to the dining room.
Seto’s senses had always been sharp. Eyes that caught the faintest difference in colour. Ears that picked up sounds others missed. Precise, dexterous hands. Taste, unremarkable. But above all, his sense of smell — precise enough to identify people by their scent alone.
Atem was a woman. That morning, when she said she might be catching a cold, there had been a scent that was different from usual.
But it wasn’t the scent of a cold — not the kind of inflammatory signal that came with infection. If anything, it was something that drew him in. So he guessed it was probably that, arranged for a female physician, and instructed her to explain things properly.
Being a man, Seto had no personal frame of reference — but from the doctor’s report, it seemed Atem was on the heavier end of things.
That imperfection was what it meant to be human, he supposed. Without quite realising it, he had frowned.
“The goddess is cruel.”
His guess about the severity had been right. Apparently Atem had spent most of the day sleeping.
He had no hesitation about putting her on hormonal medication — but whether the generally absent-minded Atem would actually remember to take it every day was another matter entirely. She was flawless at the table during a duel and an entirely different person the moment she stepped away from it. On that particular point, his trust in her was, with refreshing clarity, nonexistent.
He thought it over briefly, and decided to have someone on the household staff manage it. Even Atem would take a pill if it was handed to her.
Atem’s life was hers to enjoy to the fullest. There was no place in it for unnecessary suffering.
When Atem was called back to the doctor, Seto was there, along with one of the maids she often saw in the kitchen.
“It seems your period is on the heavier side, Atem.”
“Is it?”
“Yes — you slept through most of the day. It must have been quite difficult.”
“Well — I suppose you could say that.”
Now that it was mentioned, Téa had come to school every day. No dozing off, no complaints. The doctor explained that it varied from person to person — so there were people who had little pain, or barely felt sleepy at all.
The doctor took out a sheet of pills and held it up.
“Please take one of these every day.”
“What are they?”
“The pill. It’s also used for contraception, but in your case, we’re using it to manage your symptoms.”
“Contraception? As in — it stops me from having children?”
“If you stop taking it, ovulation resumes, so there’s no concern there. We’ll adjust the dosage based on how you’re feeling.”
She didn’t quite follow all of it, but apparently it would make things easier. Modern medicine was remarkable.
Still — was it really all right to artificially alter something as natural as the body’s cycle?
Seto noticed the flicker of hesitation cross Atem’s face. But that was a conversation for later. First: get her to take the medication.
“If I leave it to you, you’ll forget. I’ll have it brought out with breakfast.”
“I won’t forget, actually.”
“Please leave it to me, Atem. I won’t let you suffer like that again. I’ll have it ready every single morning without fail.”
“No, really, I’m fine—”
“Please. Leave this one to me.”
It wasn’t as though she’d actually forget, but the maid’s quiet intensity was harder to argue with than expected — and Atem conceded, handing over responsibility for the medication.
“You’ll start taking it from the first day of your next period.”
Starting next time meant she wasn’t taking it yet. Which meant another heavy week was waiting, three weeks from now.
The thought of going through that again was, frankly, disheartening.
They left the medical room together and headed toward Atem’s room.
“What were you thinking?”
“Nothing, really.”
“Let me rephrase. What are you worried about?”
She had said nothing — and yet this man saw right through it.
“This body can carry a child. I’m wondering whether it’s really all right to force that cycle to change with medication.”
“Do you want to have children?”
“I don’t know yet. It’s a question of possibility.”
“Infertility is generally caused by factors other than this medication. Stop taking it, and if you want to conceive, you likely could. There’s nothing to worry about.”
If you want to. Wanting a child. Would that day ever come? And she would be the one carrying it. Something profound — and frightening.
“You don’t need to wrestle with that yet. Once your body has settled, you’ll have more than enough time to think it over then.”
“...You’re right.”
That evening, for no particular reason, Atem didn’t want to be alone — so she spent the time in Seto’s room, working through one game after another.
She couldn’t quite focus; stray thoughts kept slipping in, and her results were dismal. There was no such thing as Seto going easy on her, of course. Somehow, that was exactly what made it comfortable.
When she got sleepy, they lay side by side and kept playing on the bed.
And when she woke up the next morning, she felt, just slightly, lighter.
Early summer.
The weather had warmed, and Atem had grown accustomed to life in the modern world. Around that time, Téa came back from America.
“It’s been a while, Atem.”
“Hey, how’ve you been?”
“Wonderful!”
The Téa who had cried at their farewell was nowhere to be seen.
Atem was developing a growing conviction: women were something else entirely.
The maids in the mansion, the doctor too — both of them had mentioned raising kids while wrangling them into line on a daily basis. Atem, admittedly, had been something of a handful himself back in the day, and had been scolded plenty by his nursemaid.
“Have you seen Aibou yet?”
“Yes — at the airport.”
“Really.”
Going all the way to the airport to meet her — his partner was doing well for himself.
Atem didn’t know the details of where things stood between the two of them, but seeing how Yugi, who used to hold himself back, had grown, Atem felt quietly pleased.
The old group was getting together later today, but Tristan and Joey — both working now — were tied up at their jobs, and Yugi had school. So the plan had been for Téa and Atem to meet up early and grab some tea together.
Seto was at work, obviously. Atem had mentioned it to him anyway, and received a look of flat disbelief — do you actually think I’d come?
They headed to the arcade, just like old times. Téa dancing was just as good as ever — better, actually, sharper and more powerful than before.
After that, window shopping. Oh, that’s cute, and that one too — the cheerful chatter was unchanged.
Back then, Atem had wanted to know who she was, and feared finding out at the same time. Staying with Yugi forever wasn’t really what she’d wanted — what she’d really wanted was to be here, herself. It was Téa who had pushed at that uncertainty and kept her moving forward.
They walked until they were tired, then settled on a bench with crepes.
Even now, no longer sharing a body, she caught herself apologising in her head — sorry I’m not your partner anymore — out of something that felt like old habit.
“Oh, right — you’re a girl now, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I am.”
The night she’d wanted to say hello to everyone — she’s in America and the time difference is perfect — Téa had been the first one she’d reached out to. Seto had somehow had her contact details and connected them. In reality, it wasn’t so much having the details as possessing the personal information — but Atem neither knew nor had been told that.
On the screen, Téa had stared at her in stunned silence.
“You know, people won’t leave you alone. You’re cute.”
“People? Everyone’s the same as before. Well — if anything, Mokuba’s been incredibly thoughtful. That kid is going to be a great guy someday.”
Considerate, kind, and without his brother’s edge. Mokuba would draw people to him naturally. He seemed to have grown even taller recently, and was probably popular with girls too.
“Ha — I can picture it. Kaiba was popular too, but he was the type you could only admire from a distance. Whereas Mokuba feels more like an idol you could actually reach.”
That wasn’t wrong, exactly. But—
“Kaiba was... popular?”
The only side of Seto Atem had known back then was the one at the table — a strategist, yes, but fiercely aggressive, all power and pressure. That was about the extent of it.
“Incredibly. Good-looking, tall, brilliant — and president of KaibaCorp. He was famous in Domino, but he’s got a following in America now too.”
“Really.”
Status alone, without knowing the person — maybe. Looking purely at appearances, his face was certainly striking. He was probably what most people would call handsome.
“But this is Kaiba we’re talking about. He’s arrogant, does whatever he likes — isn’t he?”
“Apparently that’s part of the appeal. That combination of quiet intensity and sharp edges? The contrast is what gets people. The ones who want to be led, or swept up in something — that type.”
Countless. Atem was genuinely taken aback.
She had never thought about Seto’s romantic life. But it wasn’t hard to imagine, now that she did. He stood out. He was famous. When she thought about it, having fans was not surprising at all.
“Huh. So that’s how it is. Women’s feelings really are a mystery.”
“But I do give him points for being devoted. Crossing dimensions, going to another world entirely — that’s kind of like a prince coming to bring you home, isn’t it?”
“At that point it’s less prince, more king.”
Téa laughed at that.
“If Kaiba is devoted to someone, I’d feel sorry for them, honestly. Devoted makes it sound sweet — but it really isn’t.”
Atem said it with a faraway look.
Devoted was too mild a word — obsession was closer to it, if she was being honest. Restoring the Millennium Puzzle to bring her back — and then, not content with that, actually crossing dimensions himself when it seemed that might not be enough. No one could have predicted that. He was the sort of man who calmly did things no one else would think of — but even by that standard, that had been completely unreasonable.
Speaking of unreasonable — the first time Seto came to the royal palace had been a complete uproar. Knowing full well the customs of ancient Egypt three thousand years past, he had deliberately stepped forward with his right foot first. That was Seto Kaiba.
Atem had told him to read the room, but Seto’s position, as he explained it, was that Atem was neither his king nor his god, and therefore he had no reason to show submission — and this was perfectly sufficient. A baffling piece of logic that made no sense and somehow held together completely. No one had asked for submission — but wherever he went, the man ran entirely by his own rules.
And because he had carried himself that way, some of the soldiers — ignoring Atem’s attempts to intervene — had moved to restrain him. They had been thrown. All of them. Whatever he had done, physically, the end result was that Seto’s side had come out unscathed and Atem’s people were the ones on the ground.
There had been nothing out there but open desert. Seto’s coat had caught the air and the swirling dust, vivid and strange against the emptiness. More chaos had been brewing among the guards, and Atem had scrambled frantically to calm everyone down and clear the area. It had been, in a word, awful.
Would even Priest Seto — with all his years of experience — have been able to get through to him? Priest Seto was far better at handling that sort of crisis. But at the time, Priest Seto had watched the whole thing unfold without making a single move. Atem still didn’t know why. She really could have used the help. It had been so, so bad. In modern terms — the kind of thing that puts a hole in your stomach.
And then, after causing all of that, Seto had acted as though the rest of the world didn’t exist — because as far as he was concerned, Atem was the only reason he was there. He probably didn’t even remember throwing those soldiers. Filed away as completely inconsequential.
That was the kind of man he was. There was absolutely nothing cute about him.
When Atem gave Téa the short version of what Seto’s visits to the Afterlife had been like, Téa said stop, you’re going to make me laugh yourself sick — that’s so him and kept laughing. Atem felt, just slightly, aggrieved. Some of us had to live through that.
“Well, in the end he’s a workaholic, so none of that is going anywhere.”
“Hmm, I wonder about that.”
“What do you—”
Before Atem could ask what Téa meant by that look, Joey’s voice rang out.
“Hey — Atem, Téa!”
She turned. Yugi and Tristan were there too.
“Sorry for the wait.”
“Hey, welcome back.”
“I’m back!”
A high-five, and the atmosphere snapped back to exactly what it used to be — the only difference being that Atem was here in the flesh.
“What were you two talking about? You both looked like you were having so much fun.”
They had been laughing quite a lot. Of course he was curious.
Atem started to say actually, it was— when Téa cut her off with a quiet shh, smiled, and said:
“Girls only.”
Oh. So that’s what this was.
A girls-only conversation.
“That’s not fair, I wanna know!”
“Ah well, can’t be helped.”
That night, they played until late — until Mokuba called, worried about where Atem had got to.
See? Thoughtful, Atem said to Téa.
Oh, said Téa, looking past her, your prince is here.
Atem followed her gaze. Seto’s car, passing along the road home, right on cue.
Atem and Téa looked at each other — and both burst out laughing at the same time.
Girls-only conversations weren’t so bad after all.
