It snows. Atem, experiencing snow for the first time, is outside before anyone can stop her. Kaiba makes her put on an extra layer. She invites him to a snowball fight — he declines, and privately calculates that a snowball from him would still clock around 100 km/h. She comes back soaking wet and running a fever. The snowman, she reports, is excellent. Two days later, recovered, Atem finds a Blue-Eyes White Dragon sculpted in snow beside her snowman. Next to it — a Kuriboh. She photographs it, goes back inside, and calls him a supadari under her breath.
This is a translation of an original work on Pixiv.
Original Title: 07 間話。白雪姫
Original Author: 葉人(@Hathor₋yuki)
Personal site: https://prideshipping.sakura.ne.jp
Snow.
She threw on clothes and went straight outside.
Atem’s first snow. A world of silver in every direction.
She wasn’t the type to throw her head back and laugh like a villain who had been waiting for this moment — but she understood, now, exactly why someone might want to.
She reached into the snow and her fingers left clear prints, as though it had no resistance at all. But when she gathered it into her hands, it held together into a solid, satisfying weight.
The crunch of it underfoot was wonderful.
She was actually considering the villain laugh when a voice reached her.
“Atem. Are you outside in those clothes again.”
“Morning, Kaiba! It’s snow!”
“I can see that. You can play, but put another layer on first.”
“I’ll be fine. I’m coming back in soon.”
“You’ll catch a cold.”
Snowmen. Snow forts. Snowball fights.
He’d known she had been researching snow activities extensively ever since the heavy snowfall forecast a few days ago.
Coming back in soon — she was obviously not coming back in soon. Unlike Yugi, Atem had a tendency to be childlike in certain ways.
Anyone in the household telling her to come in would almost certainly go unheard.
Seeing no alternative, Seto gathered an armful of things and went out to forcibly dress her in them.
She invited him to a snowball fight. He declined, naturally. It wouldn’t be a contest.
“Nii-sama, where’s Atem?”
“Outside.”
“Ah — right. She’s from Egypt. Of course she’d lose her mind over snow.”
Given where she was from, it was understandable. Mokuba smiled.
“Sand or snow, it shouldn’t make much difference.”
“Maybe for you it’s all just material. But I think it probably has more romance than that.”
He was probably remembering the things Seto had made for him in the sandpit when they were small. A faintly nostalgic look.
Though now, instead of sand, there were buildings.
“For construction purposes, clay would be more practical.”
“That misses the point entirely, I think. If I had to guess — she’s not coming back for at least two hours.”
“Probably not. ...She asked me for a snowball fight, by the way.”
“Absolutely not. Nii-sama, what’s your pitch speed again?”
He’d never measured it precisely, but somewhere around 130 km/h with a proper ball seemed reasonable.
With a snowball the speed would drop — perhaps 100 km/h at most.
“With a snowball, and aimed away from the face — bruising, at worst. Nothing serious.”
“...That is not nothing serious. Absolutely not, under any circumstances.”
“I wouldn’t take that fight anyway.”
Maybe if she catches a cold she’ll settle down for a while. That seemed unlikely for some time yet.
This conversation took place — and Atem duly came down with a fever.
“Even for a first snow... you went a bit far, don’t you think, Atem.”
Mokuba’s exasperation was entirely reasonable, and there was no defence to offer.
“I’m sorry. I just got completely caught up in it.”
“Head to toe soaking wet — this isn’t rain, you know.”
“The snow was still falling. If it had stopped, this wouldn’t have—”
“Then you should have waited until it stopped.”
“I didn’t think of that.”
I was lying in a snowdrift for a while was absolutely not something she could say out loud.
It wasn’t an infection, at least — but the fever left her head fuzzy. More exasperated than worried, which was fair enough.
“Where’s Kaiba?”
“Nii-sama left for work a while ago. He’ll be back tonight, probably, but I don’t know what time. Why — did you want him?”
“No, it’s not that. ...I made a really good snowman.”
So it wasn’t that she felt unwell and lonely and wanted to see him. It was the snowman. Honestly, Mokuba thought, she’s like a child.
“At this temperature it won’t melt for a while. You’re fine. Just get better.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
The streets outside had already been cleared — but within the grounds, the snow had been left as it was. Past the gate, the scenery turned to winter.
Halfway up the approach to the house, something that hadn’t been there when he left had taken up residence.
A snowman.
Two spheres of snow stacked together, a respectable size. She must have been at it for quite some time.
Mokuba had told him — Atem had played too long and come down with a fever. Appetite and alertness were both fine, apparently.
“Someone move that snowman into the shade.”
Atem had settled into the Kaiba household completely, and was adored by everyone in it. Several members of staff looked genuinely pleased at the instruction as he passed.
He went to Atem’s room.
“Coming in.”
“Kaiba? Welcome back.”
“I’m back. ...Don’t get up. How are you feeling?”
“Just the fever, I think.”
He pulled up the chart and skimmed it.
No sore throat, no nausea. Dizziness from the fever. Cause: playing outside, soaking wet, in temperatures cold enough for snow. Utterly without malice — but honestly.
No sign of infection in the scent of her. More like her autonomic nervous system had simply given up than a proper cold. Rest would fix it. Either way, the only cure was sleep.
“Did you enjoy yourself?”
“Yeah. Next time I’ll wait until the snow stops.”
“You never learn.”
“Is that so bad?”
Several people must have already visited. The side table held an assortment of things she’d probably like. Among them, a candy apple — eaten, core cleanly left, wrapper folded back. Running a fever and still in festival mode, apparently.
“You shouldn’t worry people like this.”
“Did you — were you worried?”
“What do you think?”
Why the silence. He looked over to find her gaze turned away, and her face a shade redder than before.
Ah, Seto thought, with quiet satisfaction, and kept the smile from showing.
“Now. Sleep and get well.”
He moved to stand.
“Wait. There’s something I need to say.”
“What.”
“My snowman. The one I worked really hard on.”
“...It’s been moved to the shade. Temperatures are staying low and there’s not much sun over the next few days. It should keep.”
Of all the things to say. Worry about yourself first.
He tucked the blanket firmly up to her shoulders and ran a hand through her hair.
“Ah — your hand is cold. It feels good.”
Honestly, she was impossible.
He kept his hand against her forehead until it warmed, and by then she had the look of someone about to fall asleep. He turned the light off.
She’d be out once it was dark, he thought. He’d briefly considered going outside to build something beside her snowman — but he stopped himself. The snow that had paused was beginning to fall again.
If he came down with something too, that would help no one.
The colour in her cheeks was no longer apple-red. She was asleep.
“Do you know Snow White?”
He knew she wouldn’t answer.
The princess who bites a poisoned apple and falls into sleep. Atem, eating an apple and falling asleep — a perfect fit. The apple was perfectly ordinary, and she was hardly a princess — but still.
“I am not a prince.”
Not a prince. Which was exactly why he would use every means available to him — fate, circumstance, whatever it took. There was probably an easier path — a kiss to wake her — but that wasn’t the one he would choose.
Sleep well. He left the room and headed toward his own.
The image of her — ears gone red, expression unguarded — came back to him.
She was so close now. Just a small push left.
He was already deciding, pleasantly, what form that push would take.
His plan was proceeding exactly as intended.
Two days later, recovered, Atem went to check on her snowman — and found something beside it.
A Blue-Eyes White Dragon. In snow. And a flawless one at that.
There was only one person who could have made this.
“So Kaiba wanted to play in the snow too.”
She thought of what Mokuba had said. All those traces left behind at the school — records, sculptures, compositions. A whole catalogue of talent quietly deposited and left there.
Snow melted eventually. She knew that.
This was good enough that melting felt like a waste.
Next to the Blue-Eyes, there was also a Kuriboh — the very monster he’d spent years dismissing as worthless — and for some reason, looking at it made her feel a strange, fluttery sort of unsettled.
What expression had he made while building it? She wanted to know. Or maybe she didn’t.
She wanted to see it — and she didn’t. Because if she had, she felt like something would change.
“...That supadari.”
She photographed the snow sculptures and went back inside.
The snow had started to fall again.
