September. Mokuba is back in school. Kaiba has apparently already graduated from an overseas university. A conversation about coconut water goes nowhere useful, and Atem catches herself thinking — not for the first time — that Kaiba is objectively remarkable, and what a nuisance that is. Kaiba, for his part, is in no hurry. He already knows how this ends. Across town, Téa is trying to figure out why it hasn’t ended yet.
This is a translation of an original work on Pixiv.
Original Title: 03 女の勘
Original Author: 葉人(@Hathor₋yuki)
Personal site: https://prideshipping.sakura.ne.jp
Mokuba appeared in his school uniform for the first time in a while — right, he had mentioned that today was the first day back. He was wearing a brand new uniform, since he’d grown again over spring and summer. Still in the thick of it; with a brother that tall, there was probably more to come.
Seto, who had said something about securing qualifications and credentials, had apparently enrolled at an overseas university. It was September-start, and yet he was here in Japan — Atem had wondered if that was all right. According to Mokuba, he had too many achievements to his name and had essentially skipped through already, so there was no problem. Was that how it worked.
Over the summer, the person Atem had seen most wasn’t her partner Yugi — it was Téa, and they were still calling each other every few days without fail.
For Atem, Téa was both a close friend and something like a senior advisor on life as a woman.
At some point Atem had mentioned offhandedly that her period was on the heavy side, and the next time they met, Téa arrived with a thin belly warmer. It had a pocket, she explained — good for tucking in a heat pack during the colder months.
The doctor had told her warmth helped, but Atem was still impressed that there were so many different products for it.
The design was awfully cute, though — was this really how Téa saw her? That part she wasn’t entirely sure about.
After meals she had switched from her usual cold coconut water to the warm herbal tea Téa had recommended.
Women are remarkably resilient, Atem thought, a little tangentially, as she raised the cup to her lips. She occasionally forgot, by the way, that she was also a woman.
She had mentioned once that the first thing she’d tasted in the living world had been the coconut water in Seto’s room — and Téa had laughed at her for quite a while over that. She wasn’t sure why.
It was gently sweet, and she had grown quite fond of it. And besides — if it was kept in Seto’s room, it couldn’t possibly be bad.
“Kaiba. Why coconut water?”
Atem asked, out of nowhere.
“What do you mean?”
“I was just wondering why you had it. You don’t really seem like someone who goes for sweet things. So I thought maybe it’s a... health-conscious kind of thing?”
Atem had no awareness of saying anything rude. She had simply looked it up and was now listing the associated words that had come up in the results.
Seto wasn’t the type to take offence at something so minor. He assumed she had picked up some unnecessary piece of knowledge somewhere, and kept his explanation brief.
“Health-conscious? What are you talking about? It’s considered optimal for replenishing the fluids and minerals lost through perspiration, and it contains nothing superfluous.”
“...What?”
“Was that not what you wanted to know? Why I drink it?”
He pointed to the bottle in Atem’s hand.
“Oh — right, so it’s not that you actually like the taste.”
“It tastes fine. It’s produced using carefully selected King Coconuts.”
“It’s funny how you can make something sound completely unappetising when you describe it.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing. Forget I said it.”
“Too late. It already happened.”
The small huff of a laugh that followed — before, it had seemed like open contempt, and she hadn’t liked it. These days, he just looked like he was enjoying himself, and it didn’t bother her at all.
She glanced sideways and caught a pair of clear blue eyes looking back. It felt too pointed to stare, so she looked away.
Now that she was paying attention, this man had a startlingly well-made face, and a figure that seemed almost artificial. She was reminded of it all over again.
Genuinely exceptional. Heavy media presence, conspicuous wherever he went — it wasn’t hard to see why he had fans all over the world, and the stories about him being popular were clearly true. Countless, Téa had said.
He’d probably had that effect at the Battle City announcement too, she imagined. Her rival, and yet — what a menace, she thought, entirely on her own.
As for what Téa had called a high score in terms of character: his devotion. Whether devotion and obsession were the same thing was debatable — but if you were willing to call it that, she could see it. Even so. Seto Kaiba, devoted — what a mismatch. It was a bit like finding Kuriboh’s card text on Obelisk the Tormentor. Not quite right.
“Heh.”
“Now what?”
Seto looked at her with vaguely suspicious eyes.
“Nothing. Something I remembered. Don’t mind me.”
“You were clearly looking at me when you did. Say it.”
“I can’t, sorry. Girls only. Not for sharing.”
“...Fine.”
Must be something that girl filled her head with again, Seto thought, watching Atem.
What exactly they had discussed — he could find out by checking the security network system covering Domino. He could expose every word if he wanted to. But it wasn’t worth the effort.
As with the cold scare, if it were something important, Atem would tell him. She always did.
Seto spoke in a tone that was, by his standards, almost leisurely.
“Don’t keep too many secrets from me.”
“That’s a big ask.”
The meaning underneath those words almost certainly hadn’t reached her. She didn’t realise she was being kept on a long lead, either.
He wanted to make her understand — I could close this distance whenever I chose — but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t give her the answer yet, either. Atem would find it herself, in her own time, when she became aware of her own feelings. And by then, it would already be too late. In fact, it was already too late now, at this stage.
In the Afterlife, it was Atem who had reached for his hand and asked to be taken away. At that moment, Seto had won a certain kind of contest.
Strictly speaking, it might have been a draw — so whether won was the right word was unclear.
He wanted Atem to realise her own feelings quickly — and at the same time, he wanted her not to realise, to sink deeper into it, to go further in before she noticed.
Because she was right there. A reach away. Near enough to touch, near enough to catch. If he felt like it, he could keep her somewhere no one else would ever see her.
He wasn’t without impatience. He had always taken the shortest path to what he wanted.
It might have seemed out of character for Seto Kaiba — but that reading was wrong. He already had her. All that was left was to give her freedom, and to indulge her, endlessly.
“You’re one to talk — no secrets from you either.”
Funny.
We’ll see, was all Seto said in reply. He let the corner of his mouth do as it liked.
This oblivious person might deserve at least one hint. He took a cold bottle of coconut water and pressed it against the back of her slender neck.
A small, undignified sound escaped her.
But Atem only startled for a moment, eyes going wide — and then she laughed, like she was enjoying it.
Atem saying something rude was nothing unusual. It had become, more or less, part of daily life.
One morning — a rare stretch of open time the day before had led to a late-night duel session, cards spread across the floor, a post-game review that went on longer than expected, and then falling asleep side by side where they sat.
Atem had her hand against Seto’s cheek.
Seto, as he usually did, assumed there was no particular meaning behind it and let her do as she pleased. But she seemed to be staring at something, thinking, so he reached up and took hold of her hand. Slender and soft, just as she looked. A woman’s hand. Without quite meaning to, he loosened his grip slightly, careful not to crush it.
“What is it?”
“I was thinking your skin is nice.”
“I take care of my health.”
“Hmm, but — no stubble.”
“Ah. That.”
He reached out and touched Atem’s own cheek instead — the one where stubble had no business growing either. Brown skin, smooth.
He had no particular need to touch it, and yet he did. This is quite a significant hint, he thought to himself, as he cupped her face in his hand.
From the outside, it would have looked like intimacy. Atem, of course, had no such awareness.
“I keep an exceptionally demanding schedule.”
“You do. You work so much.”
“Which means time spent shaving is time better spent elsewhere.”
“Yeah.”
“I dealt with it long ago.”
“What — so that means you... you have high... aesthetic standards? Is that what this is?”
“What are you talking about?”
Atem was saying something rude again, with, as always, no awareness of it whatsoever.
It wasn’t the kind of thing one would normally say to someone’s face — but Seto was long past being bothered by such minor things.
“Oh — the cards.”
A small shift. Atem had apparently only just realised she had fallen asleep there. As always, he had already gathered them up before she woke.
“On the table.”
“Right, thank you.”
She said it with a smile.
That was, genuinely, not easy on the eyes. Seto had half a mind to steal a kiss from those unguarded lips.
He exhaled, slowly.
Reluctant to leave — but there was work. He lifted his hand from that smooth cheek and pushed himself upright.
If he got used to this, he would be in serious trouble. He would never be able to let her go. Never be able to leave.
Which of them had less time to spare, at this point?
It didn’t show on his face, but his feelings were the same as hers. She could drown in them a little longer, for now.
He reached out and ran a hand through her hair — tousled from sleep, and just as fine and soft as the rest of her.
“I’m heading out.”
“Okay. Have a good day.”
He turned his back and left for work.
Today, too, Atem was happily deep in a girls-only conversation.
“So I think he’s probably one of those health-conscious types.”
“That seems a little off to me, somehow.”
Seto’s standards were certainly high. As high as — or higher than — his own company’s billboard. But he was high in the sense that he fully knew it and owned it, which made him quite different from what Atem meant by health-conscious type.
He was a man who did everything without compromise. And so his appearance, in any given context, was always calibrated to what that moment called for. His skin was part of that, of course. So was his voice. And his performances for an audience — he never cut corners there either.
When he needed to be on camera, he considered the medium. Television-sized, and he used his expressions; close-up, and he let his eyes do the work. In his own way, he approached all of it with complete discipline.
Atem, of course, knew none of this.
So she had told the story as a health-conscious kind of thing — and across the screen, Téa had the distinct impression that her eyes had lit up.
Lately, Téa had the feeling that Atem was being nudged toward Seto by her own words, one story at a time. She was starting to think she probably shouldn’t have shared this one.
Atem did understand, at least in theory, that she was a woman and Seto was a man.
But they had slept side by side, and nothing had happened — nothing improper, and no intention of it on either side. Probably. Most likely. Atem was telling herself so, at any rate.
Seto was her eternal rival. That, at least, was how Atem understood it.
Téa saw it differently.
She said it quietly, with something like exasperation.
“You know — you’re actually quite... oblivious, aren’t you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Even Kaiba might have a hard time with this one.”
“Why would he be having a hard time? That would be a real problem.”
“It has nothing to do with work, so don’t worry.”
Nothing to do with work, and yet a hard time. Atem had absolutely no idea what Téa was getting at.
Watching Atem tilt her head in confusion, Téa found herself thinking back to that day — the phone call telling her Atem had come back from the Afterlife.
An unknown Japanese number had appeared on her phone. The display showed the name of the caller: Seto Kaiba. How he had found her number, she couldn’t say — though given the connections involved, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he had her address, her workplace, and her schedule too. Still, there was no reason for him to be calling.
Maybe something’s happened again. What is it this time. Half startled, half uneasy, she had answered with cautious haste.
On the line was, impossibly, Seto Kaiba himself. His only instruction: Switch to video.
And then there was that unmistakable, unforgettable presence. Atem. The shock of it was something she still remembered clearly. Naturally, she had been speechless.
What she saw after that was remarkable in its own way. It was just a phone call — he could have simply connected them and stepped away. But every time a sound chimed or the screen shifted, Atem called for Seto, and he was there to handle it each time.
Atem, for her part, seemed entirely happy to leave it all to him — if something goes wrong, I’ll just ask — completely at ease. Above all, the atmosphere between the two of them was startlingly natural.
The intensity of when they had stood against each other was entirely gone. What was there instead was simple, uncomplicated peace.
She had heard through the grapevine that Seto had crossed dimensions to visit more than once. Something must have happened over there, she had thought. It wasn’t hard to imagine — one look made it obvious — that in the process, he had been thoroughly, relentlessly indulgent toward Atem.
She had wanted to say it even then: you two are already together, aren’t you?
On the evening they had all gone out, too — when Seto’s car had happened past and he had taken Atem home — Atem had been treated with extraordinary care. No raised voice, not even when Joey had come at him bristling for a fight. He had simply deflected it, called out let’s go, and guided Atem to the car with the most natural ease imaginable.
And Atem had chosen to go with him, just as naturally.
There’s absolutely something there, on both sides.
That was what every instinct she had was telling her.
Atem was a girl now. And yet there was still no word of anything happening between them. Why?
Could it be that she wasn’t aware of her own feelings?
Atem being oblivious was one thing — but he couldn’t possibly be unaware. Which meant he knew, and was saying nothing. But what for?
It didn’t feel like the kind of waiting that comes from hoping Atem would notice him first, or wanting some kind of acknowledgement.
He was someone who handled things himself, with his own hands. That was how he had done the things no one else had thought of, the things no one else could have pulled off, one after another.
And she had always assumed he was the type who, once he decided he wanted something, would get it by whatever means necessary. Patiently waiting didn’t fit.
Say what you mean. Do what you want. Put your feelings into words, into action. That was how Téa had always understood Seto Kaiba.
Which was why a relationship left hanging in mid-air like this was, for him of all people, simply inconceivable.
But she couldn’t work it out.
I’ll never understand how that man thinks, Téa decided, and let it go.
