Mokuba thinks Atem should go to the festival with Kaiba. Téa agrees. Between the two of them, Atem finds herself asking Kaiba before she’s entirely sure how it happened. What follows is food stalls, games, shaved ice in flavours he already knew she’d like, a sash that comes undone at the wrong moment, and fireworks larger than expected. The hand she’s holding on the way there is still there on the way home.
This is a translation of an original work on Pixiv.
Original Title: 05 秋祭り
Original Author: 葉人(@Hathor₋yuki)
Personal site: https://prideshipping.sakura.ne.jp
Festivals were held across the country — Domino was no exception.
KaibaCorp sponsored it as a local company. At this point, Domino was more or less KaibaCorp’s castle town, but no one said so out loud. It was the arrangement that kept things smooth, kept things running, and kept everyone satisfied.
It was also the busy season for the security division.
“Nii-sama, are you sure it’s all right to prioritise school? I can handle security oversight, you know.”
Mokuba’s school culture festival and the Domino town festival fell on the same dates.
For events like Battle City, Mokuba had contributed under the title of co-host and operations chair. Having him issue directives from above made things run smoothly — but that couldn’t go on forever.
As the company grew and expanded, Mokuba would increasingly be sent out in Seto’s place. That was the future they were building toward.
“I’m leaving it to the security division. They’ve been specialised for this for a year now. They’ve handled events. Any problems, they can solve themselves.”
“But what if something happens?”
“I’ve arranged it so that the events division can send people over only if there’s truly no other way.”
“Makes sense.”
“That’s not all.”
“You have something else in place?”
Seto’s expression turned distinctly wicked.
“I’ve written holiday into my schedule.”
Muahahaha — a full laugh rang out, the kind that hadn’t been heard since the Afterlife. Atem watched from across the room, vaguely nostalgic.
But Seto wasn’t the only one whose demeanour had shifted. Mokuba’s expression was going just as dark.
“Oh, that’s brutal. What pressure to put on people. Nii-sama, you’re terrible. I’m writing holiday into mine too.”
They didn’t usually seem alike in manner — but the gleeful villainous expressions were unmistakably brothers.
You didn’t need to inherit that part of him. Atem thought it with complete sincerity.
“Atem. What are you doing on the day of the festival?”
“Nothing in particular.”
She’d been hearing about the festival around town and spotting posters for it. She’d been thinking she might wander over and have a look — and had been about to reach out to Yugi, since she wasn’t sure what it would be like.
“Then why not go with Nii-sama? It’s a good chance.”
“With Kaiba? But didn’t he say he had a day off?”
“That’s exactly why. If he takes a day off, he’ll just start researching something. You two should go on a date.”
This precocious kid, she thought — then remembered that Mokuba had always been precocious.
If they were going to walk side by side, it would be the first time since Battle City, when they’d teamed up together.
Walking shoulder to shoulder with her rival.
“Even if we walk together, it won’t be a date.”
“Huh? What are you talking about? It would absolutely be a date.”
Mokuba’s voice came out completely baffled.
He had a clear read on both his brother’s feelings and Atem’s — so that what are you talking about came from the very bottom of his heart.
Atem, meanwhile, was in quiet internal chaos.
A date was something Yugi and Téa went on. Or Joey and Serenity. Not something you called it when you weren’t someone’s partner — it wasn’t something you could say, wasn’t something you could suggest.
Mokuba, it turned out, genuinely believed he was being kind.
“Are you all right?”
She wasn’t sure how she’d made it back to her room, but Téa’s voice brought her back.
Right — of course. Times like this called for a girls-only conversation. She must have called Téa in a panic without quite realising it.
“Mokuba told me to ask Kaiba on a date and go to the festival together. But we’re not — I mean, we’re not going out or anything like that, so calling it a date would be strange, wouldn’t it?”
“Mokuba said that... I see.”
Téa’s instincts ran the calculation immediately: Mokuba was on their side.
And for the sake of her favourite, she wasn’t going to withhold her support.
“All right, let’s keep it simple. First — going to the festival is fine on its own, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I did want to see it.”
“Now, this is the important part. I wish I could ask in person, but — Kaiba isn’t there right now, is he?”
“He’s not. He went on a business trip yesterday, so he won’t be back until tonight at the earliest.”
Téa took a breath.
“How would you feel if Kaiba went to the festival with someone other than Mokuba?”
Téa, you’re doing it again, Atem thought.
And then: that won’t do.
A festival, she’d gathered, was something you enjoyed with someone special — a friend, a partner.
Téa pressed into the silence.
“That’s both the hint and the answer.”
“Would I be able to enjoy it?”
“Kaiba would make sure you did.”
“But would he enjoy it?”
“This is just my sense of things — but I think Seto is the type who finds more happiness in making someone else happy than in being happy himself. Seto Land is proof of that. Being fussed over is nothing to him — being depended on, being the one someone turns to, that’s what he’d actually want.”
She heard something about supadari qualities under Téa’s breath, and elected not to acknowledge it.
“Before — I remember thinking I wanted to be the only one standing next to him.”
“You two have always been like that. Nothing’s changed. Not once.”
“Nothing’s changed? I didn’t used to worry about it like this.”
“That’s what it means to be a girl in love.”
“Téa.”
Téa said it like she meant every word, and it was genuinely impressive.
Atem, being swept along by the current, had no idea that was happening.
The following morning, Seto came home. A detour through the American branch on the way back from the university had thrown the schedule off by half a day.
“Welcome back.”
“I’m back.”
She gathered the courage Téa had given her.
“Seto.”
“What is it?”
He turned from shrugging off his jacket. His expression was easy, unhurried — the way it always was with her.
“I want to go to the festival.”
“The festival.”
“With you.”
Seto looked like he might have smiled.
“Is that so.”
“It is.”
“You don’t want to go with your friends? The festival runs for three days — which day do you want?”
He opened the display and went through the schedule and the programme for each day.
Food stalls. Portable shrines, festival floats — she wasn’t entirely sure what those were, but they seemed to run every day.
The last night ended earlier, but made up for it with fireworks.
“Are those fireworks actually Solid Vision?”
“These are conventional fireworks. Handcrafted by artisans.”
“The last night, then. I want to enjoy everything.”
“Then we’ll do that.”
Mokuba. Téa. I have secured us a date. A strange sense of accomplishment settled over her quietly.
In the days that followed, their usual friends invited her too — but the dates overlapped, so she had to decline.
The day of the festival arrived.
That morning, Mokuba appeared early and pressed something into her hands.
“Atem! This is a present from me. Téa helped me pick it out the other day.”
“What is this?”
“A yukata. Festivals mean yukata. Fireworks mean yukata. Dates mean yukata.”
Knock him dead, she heard, in a voice that had no business being audible. It sounded like Téa.
The maids wrestled her into it with considerable enthusiasm, which was an ordeal — but she was wearing it. That part was fine.
The footwear, however, looked as though it might go flying with every step. She hoped she wouldn’t end up barefoot without noticing.
“Kaiba, I’m ready.”
“It’s unlocked. Wait inside.”
She let herself into Seto’s room. Movement from further in — he was still getting ready. Yukata takes time to put on, I know that well, she thought, feeling rather superior from the vantage point of someone already dressed.
She sat carefully near the edge, taking care not to crush the sash.
“Sorry for the wait.”
“Let’s go.”
A mutual silence.
Atem’s yukata was white with a floral pattern. A layered, structured sash.
Seto’s was deep navy, simple — no obvious pattern, no sash that looked like it was strangling him.
“Why is yours like that?”
“You were the one who wanted yukata. Men’s wear is simply like this.”
“I want that one.”
“Yours is charming.”
“Char— that’s not—”
“It suits you.”
Being told charming and it suits you — she didn’t mind it, exactly. It was just that her face had gone warm.
She turned away and stood up.
“Is that right. Then — let’s go.”
“Atem, sit back down for a moment.”
“Is there something else?”
“Your feet. Let me put a patch on before the thong starts to hurt.”
First-timers almost always get blisters, he said — and with his own hands, pressed a soft strip of tape between her big toe and the next.
He could have had someone else do that. And yet.
Brown hair swaying just in front of her. Something about it made her feel unsettled in a way she couldn’t quite name.
Seto was kind to her. It had been like this a lot lately.
Blue eyes lifted and met hers.
“You’ve looked at the map. Where do you want to start?”
“It’s not a game, you know.”
“You said you wanted to enjoy everything — so what is it, if not that?”
She couldn’t say a date. But at the entrance, Mokuba delivered the inevitable final blow.
“Nii-sama, Atem — enjoy your date! Okay, I’m off to school.”
“Ah — yeah.”
She wanted to push back, but the conversation with Téa wouldn’t let her.
It shouldn’t matter what Seto thought — and yet, for some reason, she couldn’t turn to look at him.
“Let’s go.”
Seto took her hand and started toward the car.
“Are you actually all right with calling this a date?”
“Entirely.”
He sounded like he was enjoying himself. Supadari really is something, she thought, in a confused sort of admiration she didn’t fully understand.
The car pulled away toward their chosen starting point.
Atem had been half-resigned to it because of Mokuba, and that resignation had tipped over into determination.
She tried every unusual food at every stall she passed. When she found games, she was in her element — total domination was the only acceptable approach.
Somewhere along the way, the restlessness settled, and she found herself genuinely having a good time without noticing when that had happened.
“You’re good at ring toss and shooting — Kaiba, the shooting I can see, but the ring toss? That was against the rules.”
Atem laughed, bright and easy.
“I’m experienced with that kind of handling.”
The predecessor to KaibaCorp had been a weapons manufacturer. For demonstration purposes, he was technically capable of operating most categories of arms — but he wasn’t going to say that.
“Is that so?”
“It is.”
For the record: Seto’s unhurried posture, his sniper-precise aim, and his flawless results had caused a small stir at the shooting stall. He was aware of people murmuring no-spend king nearby — and aware that the photos being taken weren’t as covert as the takers believed. He assumed they’d be circulating shortly.
Atem turned out to have a talent for goldfish scooping. The tight, jangling tension of not knowing when the net would give way suited her perfectly. She scooped and scooped — and then gently tipped them back into the water. Raising them would be too much, she’d decided.
“Next — shaved ice. I can’t decide on a flavour.”
“You just had ramune.”
“Fair point. I’ll leave it for the next stall.”
“If it’s shaved ice, there’s a proper shop nearby rather than a stall. We can rest our feet there too.”
“That works. We’ve still got time before the fireworks.”
The unfamiliar footwear had been a longer walk than expected, and her feet were beginning to feel it.
That wasn’t the only reason — Seto had his own considerations. The artificial flavourings typical of festival stalls hit scent, colour, and taste in combination, and he had no intention of eating any of them. If shaved ice was going to happen, he wanted somewhere that used properly sourced, fresh ingredients. Synthetic fragrances, at a certain concentration, no longer smelled like food at all.
When they reached the shop, the queue was substantial — but a reservation had apparently been made at some point, and Atem was shown to a table without waiting.
Enjoy everything — that had been Atem’s plan. Shaved ice was on the route. The reservation had been placed accordingly. Not worth mentioning.
The shaved ice arrived. She scooped up a spoonful of yellow fruit and put it in her mouth.
It dissolved slowly. Ripe and sweet.
“Mango — this is incredible.”
“It’s a tropical fruit, like coconut. I thought you’d like it.”
“You really do know me well.”
“Reasonably so.”
“What flavour is yours?”
“You’ll like it.”
“Can I try?”
She reached her spoon in without any hesitation. A taste — and her face came up, eyes bright.
“Lychee. Another fruit from the south.”
After the shaved ice and a rest for their feet, the second half of the afternoon was just as thorough a sweep of the stalls.
Atem in full enjoyment was barely distinguishable from a child.
“I’ve arranged seats in the viewing area for the fireworks. You’ll have a good view.”
“Seriously? That’s very supadari of you.”
“Oh?”
Seto’s expression turned interested.
Dangerous — he knows what that means.
“Ah — um, forget that.”
“Too late. Do you think I have such a poor memory?”
“A woman has her pride.”
“Noted. But I’ll be keeping that.”
She had told him to forget it.
Seto didn’t forget Atem’s words.
It had happened before, she felt. The coconut water conversation. And it was true — the one in his room was better than anything from a festival stall.
After a great deal of wandering, they were making their way through the crowd — Atem carrying a large bag of prizes — when she felt something shift at her back.
“Kaiba, can you check my back? The sash has been moving around.”
“It’s come loose.”
He steered her to a quieter corner with a let me fix it.
“Hold here with your right hand. Pinch this with your left.”
She held and released as directed. Gradually, what had been loose was pulled taut, adjusted, settled into place from behind. Not tight. Not like the morning’s assault.
“Yukata is complicated.”
“After all that movement, it’s to be expected. I had a few different knots in mind in case this happened.”
“You’re so capable.”
“What do you think I am?”
“...Capable?”
“That’s exactly the same word.”
She couldn’t see his face, but he was probably laughing.
Done — he showed her a photo.
“It’s a different shape from this morning.”
“That’s the nature of a sash. This knot means you can lean back in a seat without any trouble.”
Shall we head to the viewing area, he said, picking up the bag she’d set down.
From somewhere not too far off, a familiar voice.
“Hey! What are you doing to Atem again?!”
“Joey?”
“What exactly have I done?”
Those two, honestly — Joey leading with confrontation, and the response delivered with complete indifference. Impossible to manage.
“I — I saw you going at her right there in public!”
“Your eyes must be defective.”
“What did you say?! Atem, come here—”
Out of habit, Joey reached for Atem’s wrist — and stopped short, startled by how slight it was.
Yugi pulled him off quickly.
“Would you stop — grabbing Atem like that out of nowhere.”
He must have a sister. Once he registered she was a girl, he wouldn’t push further. Seto watched the scene quietly.
He looked over at the rescued Atem.
“It’s nearly time. Let’s go.”
“Yeah. Joey, I’m fine — nothing happened, so don’t worry.”
Just the usual sort of misunderstanding getting sorted out, is all.
There wasn’t time to explain properly, so she gave a wave and went after Seto.
It was dark around them. He was easy enough to follow — tall enough to spot in a crowd — but she was small, and losing him in the press of people would mean going nowhere fast.
“Seto.”
“Atem?”
He glanced back, caught the situation, and smiled slightly.
Seto took her hand.
“That’s a relief.”
“Keep hold of it.”
They walked hand in hand. Moving through the crowd became instantly easier.
Taller than her by quite a lot. Broader shoulders. A pace that adjusted to hers without her having to ask.
So this is what being looked after feels like, she thought.
But this — this was just like a real date.
She was probably the only one thinking that.
She glanced sideways at Seto’s expression. He looked content. But beyond that, she couldn’t read anything more.
They reached the viewing area and she checked her phone. Sure enough, there were messages — the group chat. Everyone comparing theories, probably.
He was just fixing my sash, she typed and sent.
Really? — Tristan, following up.
Really. She attached the photo she’d been sent.
Once all the read receipts came in: The yukata is so cute! Thank you for wearing it. And fixing a sash too — that’s very supadari of him — a private message from Téa. She’d been careful not to compliment another man where Yugi might see.
She sent back: Seto said it suits me.
The reply was a very meaningful sticker. She was still working out what to do about that when — it’s starting — she heard Seto’s voice.
Sorry, everyone. This conversation can wait.
The fireworks were much larger than she’d imagined. The light, the sound, the vibration — all of it moved through her whole body.
She was glad she’d come with him. That was the only thought in her head.
As the fireworks lit up overhead, she became aware, without quite meaning to, of the warmth of the person beside her.
The hands they had linked on the way there were linked again before she noticed. They stayed that way until they were home.
A large hand. Slightly rougher than hers. A man’s hand.
Not long after the autumn festival, Atem had ventured into Domino and found herself surrounded by people calling it an interview.
Your name?
Where are you from?
Where did you meet President Seto?
How long have you been together?
Questions came rapid-fire, and the last one stopped her cold.
This was the situation Téa had been in.
She tried to think of a way out and came up empty. Protect the image, don’t lie, explain clearly and hope to be believed — that wasn’t going to work. She knew enough about modern media to know that words got clipped and reframed. Whatever she said would probably be used against her.
Eternal rival — she considered it, and immediately knew it would land wrong. Ancient language as a smokescreen — not a great plan either. Seto didn’t lie. So she couldn’t either.
“Um. Well, that is—”
“Is there something you need from her?”
The person who silenced the crowd, scattered the reporters, and extracted Atem from her predicament was Mokuba, who happened to be passing.
The small huff of a laugh he gave was exactly his brother’s. You didn’t have to inherit that part.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Mokuba made a call.
“Isono? Contact the security division and find out what’s happening with Atem’s protection detail.”
“A protection detail — what? I’m fine, really.”
“There are probably standing orders. They should have intercepted before getting this close. Sorry about that.”
“Is there really?”
She hadn’t noticed at all. When had she become the kind of person who warranted that?
Slightly uneasy, she searched.
Seto, festival.
What came up was an endless stream of Seto in sniper mode at the shooting stall. Effortlessly good-looking even here. No-spend king — what was that about.
Nothing problematic appeared, and she felt relieved — and then, in the same breath, complicated.
Mokuba leaned over and smiled.
“Those won’t come up in a regular search. I put pressure on to make sure only Nii-sama shows up. So you’re safe.”
Where exactly was she supposed to feel safe in this.
She started to say something and stopped.
This was Mokuba. In conversations like this one, she’d been pushed, cornered, and delivered the final blow more times than she could count. She had no idea what he was going to say next.
“If you wanted to be in the news together, I can make that happen — and I think Nii-sama would be fine with it if that’s what you wanted.”
“Hold on — what do you mean he’d be fine with going public with a rumour—”
“Huh, you went on a date and you still don’t get it. The security arrangements look sorted, so I’ve got somewhere to be. See you later!”
We’re not done here. What do you mean, still don’t get it.
No explosion this time — just a handful of meaningful words, and Mokuba was gone.
Autumn was only deepening.
