Out of options, Atem takes her problem to Priest Seto, who is busy, unimpressed, and eventually furious enough to call her by a title she does not want.
On White Day she brings a potted plant and one sentence she has rehearsed. Seto answers without hesitating, and then keeps answering until every piece she has been holding for a year fits into place.
This is a translation of an original work on Pixiv.
Original Title: 09 ホワイトデーに鉢植え
Original Author: 葉人(@Hathor_yuki)
Personal site: https://prideshipping.sakura.ne.jp
In return for the bouquet, for the feeling behind it, she had to tell him that she held him as something that mattered too.
Even Atem had feelings of that sort, though they were something closer to a sense of obligation.
But the other party was a man the whole world reached out toward.
A few months ago she had been able to think without the slightest hesitation that the place beside Seto was hers and the place beside her was his; but it was also true that the more she learned of what surrounded him, the further away his existence seemed.
If she stayed as she was and said nothing there would be no problem, but returning an answer felt difficult — why, she didn't know, and round and round the thought went.
If she were still a man, could she have stood beside him with confidence as his one and only rival? Would she have had no doubts at all?
"...and that's how it is, Seto. What should I do?"
In front of the special terminal connected to the afterlife, Atem was pouring out the whole business.
Thinking alone had got her nowhere, the day was closing in, and with no better option left she had decided to deploy her ultimate weapon in the matter of consultation.
What Valentine's was, and about White Day. What had happened to her. She confessed all of it. Seto was clever and forward-thinking, so he would surely understand the customs of the living world too.
Unable to explain it well, she talked in fits and starts, and Seto listened — after a fashion — while he wrote.
Once she had finished, a large sigh came through. Deliberately. She could tell she was being profoundly despaired of.
"As you are no doubt aware, I am extremely busy. Kindly judge such matters for yourself."
He was about to cut the connection with a disinterested if that will be all, and she stopped him in a panic.
She knew he was busy. He had said he was taking in knowledge from the living world and beginning work on the welfare system. Truly, a man who worked hard.
But despaired of or not, Seto was her last lifeline. There was surely no one else who would understand if she brought them something even she couldn't make sense of. If he abandoned her there was nothing after this — he was, after all, the ultimate weapon.
"That's true, but there's the matter of what you'd call a barrier of station."
"A barrier? Why should that obstruct telling someone who matters to you that they matter? And supposing it existed, such a barrier is as good as nothing beside the barrier between dimensions."
Seto made a face that said he found it difficult to comprehend. Probably it was true that he found it difficult to comprehend. That Seto held nothing back with Atem was not new. It had been so during her first life, and it had grown considerably worse since they were reunited in the afterlife.
"That's true, but it feels presumptuous, or—"
"Why is deference required here? To begin with, it was you who sought that one's hand. Have you forgotten? You may simply tell him with the same lack of deference."
"I haven't forgotten. Only—"
"If you still insist on station, then the station of king — a living god — is more exalted than anything. The problem is solved. Are we finished?"
Unfolding some inscrutable theory the way Seto did, he was about to cut the connection again. That was a problem. It might be solved as far as Seto was concerned, but inside Atem nothing was solved at all.
"Wait. That's the world of three thousand years ago; in the living world it's different. And on top of that, I'm just a woman now."
Another large sigh. Absolutely deliberate. She heard the small click of a brush being set down.
Then, when he turned his whole body to face the screen, blue eyes glared straight at her at once. The kind that left the priests and officials of the afterlife frozen where they stood.
And while bearing down on her like that, he smiled with his mouth alone and said it slowly, in a very calm, almost refreshing tone.
"Such circumstances are beyond my understanding, my pre-de-ces-sor."
Predecessor.
Bad. This — Seto — was seriously angry. In modern terms, what you'd call full-blown rage. Frightening.
"There, there, could you — could you make some allowance? I don't understand what I want to do myself."
At her pleading his eyes only got worse; he folded his arms, and at length even clicked his tongue at her. His fingertips tapped against his arm. Extremely frightening.
"I decline. What is the problem, living world or this one? And besides — is he a man who would care about kings or women? I would not, at least."
Excessive adaptability, she thought, but Atem gave up on further questions.
Any more and she would only anger him, and it would run parallel with her going round in circles.
Besides, she now knew there was at least one person who wouldn't care at all, and as Seto said, the man was not the sort to care what anyone was.
Full-blown rage or not, he had listened properly and taken her consultation. Dependable; she was glad she'd asked, frightening as it was. Frightening and too kind, enough to make her want to cry. She wouldn't, because if she cried it would go far beyond a click of the tongue.
"I see. ...Understood. Thank you."
Whether it got through at last that Atem was satisfied, the glaring Seto's expression returned to normal.
Only, the folded arms and the fingertips stayed as they were, so he was apparently still angry.
"I am busy at all times. Kindly refrain from contacting me about such things."
This time the connection was severed for good. It seemed he wouldn't deal with her for a while even if she called, but she did at least understand that in the matter of telling him, she could tell him with confidence.
Seto pressed his fingertips to his temple and let out a deep sigh, as though expelling the anger.
About a year ago. Just when he'd thought the uproar that had dragged in the afterlife had passed and peace had returned, this.
The pain of losing something he understood more than well enough. A husk with no soul in it was far too light against the pain in the heart. Call the name and there was no answer. It had only forced him to confirm, again, that the person had been singular.
"I can't say I don't understand that one being cautious."
But that was one thing, and having the problem dumped on him was another. Sort it out yourselves — that was the whole of it.
Atem was one thing, and that one was another.
Seto processed whatever problem came at him without a ripple, but at present he was irritated enough to want to punch both of them.
He was certain he had told him to make an effort. There was no chance that one had misconstrued the meaning. Nor was he a man to neglect an effort. On that point he could be trusted. He had an eye for people.
That one had come seeking Atem. What that had cost him must have been beyond imagining.
And Atem had sought his hand. He was a man who kept the future in his sights. Take her away and be done with it — such an ending was impossible. He was the sort of person who granted wishes.
He would have liked to complain to Atem, but it would surely never land on that obtuse creature, so he decided to express his complaint by refusing to deal with her for a while.
He tapped characters into the tablet. He would not be satisfied without at least one word of complaint about the affairs of the living world, and without it he could see more nuisance being brought to him.
Looking at the message that arrived from the afterlife, written in ancient hieratic, the man wore a truly wicked smile.
But only for an instant.
Slowly he lowered his eyes and drew a deep breath. Let it out.
And the words that spilled out like an exhalation — their temperature was tenderness toward a heart that had almost grasped its answer.
"I've caught you."
White Day itself, at last.
Atem stood in front of Seto's room holding the potted plant she had prepared.
Now she would tell him: you matter to me.
Exchanging feelings was something she felt she'd been doing all along. Contents along the lines of not wanting him to lose to anyone but her, but still.
Anyone but her. What made this different she didn't know, but there was an extraordinary tension to it.
"Atem, is it. It's open."
She had been loitering in front of the room when a voice came from inside.
"A-ah."
She answered, and her mouth was bone dry.
Her thoughts and her body's reactions did not match. Why had it come to this?
Atem steeled herself, shifted the pot to one arm, and quietly opened the door.
She'd been worried about what to do if their eyes met immediately, but thanks to Seto sitting at the table handling chess pieces, she was spared that.
Relieved — and at the same time confused, not understanding why she should have had to worry.
"You were playing chess."
"Ah."
Move one white piece, and after a short pause a black piece moved automatically.
She didn't know who the opponent was, but they'd surely resign rather than play it out to the end.
It was easy to forget, but this was a man who bent what she'd called the occult to his will with the power of science.
Perhaps because he was a realist, he was exceedingly strong at abstract games like this. Compared with other games, the win rate reversed.
Before long the opponent resigned. Some message came in on the display at his side, but Seto ignored it and dismissed it.
"You're strong. As expected."
"Who do you think you're talking to? Besides, you're far stronger than that opponent."
Seto lifted his face and turned his gaze on her. Their eyes met, and she thought: I've done it now.
The tension that had retreated had reappeared.
Tension was unnecessary. Seto would certainly say so, fold his arms, and take that condescending attitude.
She had to tell him. Telling him wasn't frightening compared with being on the receiving end of full-blown rage. Surely. Probably.
Reporting back that she hadn't been able to say anything — that was too terrifying even to think about.
"Thank you for the flowers the other day."
Said. Half remained; she had to say all of it. That was what she had come for.
Atem closed her eyes once, and looked back into Seto's.
"I— you— that is... I think you matter to me."
"As you do to me."
At Seto's unhesitating reply, Atem went red and pressed her lips together.
She had understood more than well enough that she was being treated as something that mattered, but being told again, her heart absolutely would not go quiet and her body tensed.
At times like this, what was the right answer? She imagined consultants inside her head. Téa would speak of love, perhaps.
Speak of love? To whom?
Yugi would go wobbly and still say what needed saying.
And what exactly needed saying?
Neither Téa nor Yugi would do.
What would Seto do? She didn't know. She felt he'd give the most sensible opinion, but she didn't know what he would do. He wouldn't hesitate, but she didn't know what he wouldn't hesitate about.
"What are you thinking about?"
"That — that's what I don't know."
"You don't know."
"No."
"I see."
Seto smiled thinly and closed his eyes. Much the same as when they had done koibana.
"Then there's nothing to be done."
He said it and ruffled her hair.
With the face of a man who knew even the heart Atem herself did not.
"I don't understand it. But you do, don't you?"
"Well. Who can say."
Reach out and he was within reach. The whole world reached out toward him, and this was a distance permitted to none of them.
And if her hand did reach — what then?
What did she want? Her chest felt as though it were being squeezed.
The why of the flowers. Trying to think about it felt as though it would undo her, and she couldn't.
She was a woman. That caught on something and would not let her arrive at the answer.
"Tell me. What's happened to me?"
"Nothing has happened."
"That's a lie."
"It is not a lie."
Taking the pot from Atem and setting it on the table, Seto took her hand in his large one.
And gazed steadily at Atem's face. A face that looked pained, large eyes brimming, on the verge of confessing love. If it was now, then it was now — that was all he thought.
He recalled the complaint from that one. I would ask you not to toy with him too much.
As if I would toy with her, Seto thought. I am only making certain I never lose her again.
"If nothing has happened, then I—"
If that were true, then it had never changed at all, not from the beginning. Which meant that the reason behind the why was, after all, that. Atem felt her face grow hot.
And it meant this man had known it from the very start.
You give them to someone you like — Atem had said that herself.
Seto did not forget Atem's words.
Could such a thing possibly be true?
That she had been that. And that he had been that as well.
Was this why Seto had told her not to care about kings or women?
What she'd wanted to convey wasn't only you matter — which was why she had hesitated. She had minded being a woman, because she could no longer remain only a rival. She had built an unnecessary barrier, because of who he was.
The pieces of the puzzle were fitting together.
I don't know was wrong.
"I— that is. Did you — do you like me?"
Wrong, it's the other way round. And I've finally asked it. So Atem thought. Finally or otherwise, she thought it having only just put it into language and become conscious of it.
Like. Once she'd said it aloud it felt as though it dropped neatly into place inside her, and also as though the feeling that had dropped might spill over.
"What about you?"
"Ugh — coming at it from there."
"Did you think I wouldn't?"
As for Seto, he was enjoying himself with no regard for Atem's state at all. He even had the composure for his usual jokes.
She was in deadly earnest, and the gravity wasn't reaching him; Atem was entirely full up.
"But that — liking someone, I don't really understand it. I've never been in a relationship like that with anyone."
"Nor have I."
Wow, his eyelashes are long. He barely blinks. Stray thoughts crept into a head desperate to dodge the tension somewhere.
"You're thinking about something unnecessary."
"No, I'm not."
How had he known? Lies never worked on him.
"Atem. What do you want to do with me?"
"Wh— what do I want to do? It isn't something I can do anything with, is it. You're — I mean—"
"It can be done."
If it were Téa, if it were Yugi, if it were Seto. She didn't know. Perhaps trying to take anyone as a reference had been the mistake to begin with. Surely it was.
An outrageous man like this was one of a kind. And only one person could possibly keep up with him. In which case, she wanted that person to be her.
The moment she thought it, Atem's resolve settled.
That time, when she was handed the flowers, there had been no words. Every word had been packed into the bouquet. How that meaning was received had been up to Atem.
Had he gone in on a gamble like that? And if so, the result of the gamble was—
"I don't know what I want to do with you. But I want to be your one and only."
"You have been for ages. From the beginning. Nothing has changed, has it?"
Seto said it slowly.
Now that it was said, certainly nothing had changed.
Yes — the result of the gamble had already been decided. A hundred percent win rate; it hadn't even been a gamble.
In which case the answer had been there all along. She simply hadn't seen it.
"You really do like me a great deal, don't you."
"Ah. I like you."
"You are — sh, shameless."
"You're the one who asked."
Seto said it lightly, but until this very moment it had been utterly unthinkable to Atem.
"What were you going to do if I hadn't noticed?"
"I thought you certainly would."
"But that's just now, isn't it."
"Even if it were now, I was certain you would arrive at the answer."
She didn't understand how he could be so definite about it. How could he believe she'd choose this option?
Once she noticed, she couldn't remain only a rival. Had it not occurred to him that she might avoid that and keep her feelings hidden?
"Why are you so..."
"If you're saying there's a possibility you still wouldn't notice, then I would simply keep giving them to you, however many times it took. Nothing at all would change from until now."
Atem's eyes went wide.
"I— that's—"
The kindness she'd been handed all this time, the warmth of his hand, all of it had been that. That even if she never noticed, even if she hid it, he'd go on handing it over unchanged.
Being kind only to Atem. The important thing left behind in Japan. The festival could be a date. No reason was needed to give her flowers. If she was unwell he worried. The snow sculptures. His type.
Ah — it really had been all along. All of it had been that. Atem's memory was good, after all. Recall it deliberately, and a year's worth of information told the whole story.
A strategist, and quite the power type. She'd known that. Unchanged — precisely Seto Kaiba. You got me. Atem smiled a little and let out a breath.
The reason her heart had stirred and gone murky had surely been this. Because she had been receiving all of it from the very start.
"Kaiba..."
To have been loved this much.
Raised in an environment where free courtship does not exist, Atem has no concept of romance. So the continuation of that one's complaint read. So take the greatest possible care of him.
But look at this expression. Cheeks red, eyes brimming, the muscles of her body tensed, about to confess love.
Now, at last, the time had come. At last he could give her the words.
Over a year he had taught her heart how much she mattered. As that one said, she had known neither passion nor love; so he had dug those out as well.
There was more still to teach her. He didn't care if it took another year, or two.
He drew her onto his lap and turned her whole body to face him, pressed his forehead to hers, close enough for lashes to brush. He wrapped the hand he'd been holding in both of his.
They were about to share the depths of each other's hearts; the less physical distance the better.
"In fact, I love you. Atem — only you. What about you?"
"My feelings are the same as yours. So — I like you too."
Atem looked away, but she blinked more than usual and her cheeks were red. Her breathing was shallow; you could see she was conscious of it.
To think that simply becoming aware made her this easy to read.
"What is that supposed to be."
For now, those words would do. Whichever route was taken, the shape was already the same.
"I'll probably get jealous."
"I'm honoured."
"And I'll want you to myself."
"You already have me."
"And I'll start saying I want to be beside you always."
"Be there. I will be as well."
He put an arm around her back.
To be beside someone. How very hard that was to come by. That loss had changed Seto.
In the skies above Alcatraz he had sent a hand signal — a rematch — and crossed to America. The meaning should have carried perfectly. Both of them should have intended it.
He would return from America, they would fight again, and then he had decided he would take that body into his arms. The man who had been Yugi's other self was stubborn up to a certain line and flexible beyond it; that was the sort of person he was. Take time, accumulate the attempts, and win him over without fail. That had been the intention.
And instead, in a single month, Atem vanished. He was no longer in the living world at all, they said. Nothing to get hold of — there was no possibility of Seto forgiving that.
By whatever means necessary. When he swore it to himself, for better and for worse he began to carry out two apparently contradictory things at once: appropriately, and choosing no means at all.
The occult trinket — a soul dwelling in the Millennium Puzzle. If that had been the truth, then he would simply restore it.
He wouldn't answer a summons. If that was how it was, then he would simply go in person.
Thanks to the industrious priest spoiling Atem, he had found an opening to exploit. Thinking back, that too had probably been the priest's intention, but he had no objection to riding along with it.
All of it action the earlier version of himself could never have conceived.
And so he taught the Atem he had brought out freedom, spoiled her, looked after her, made her understand that he was always watching and understood her best, accustomed her to his hand, taught her the closest distance, unearthed the love in her and grew it. And now, he had taught her the words.
Caught.
Never letting go.
He opened the top of the table they always used for games and took out a box.
"Atem. Will you accept this? And in time, I want you to share your life with me."
"Your life— your life?! That means — entering into marriage. Does it?"
Atem's eyes went round.
"That's right. In name and in fact, I want you beside me."
"That's — far too well prepared."
"That was the intention from the beginning."
Once she became aware of it, he would take her to wife. That had been decided. Sex, of course, had nothing to do with it. He had originally intended to have her restored as a man. If that set the world talking and turned curious eyes on them, he would simply change what counted as common sense. He had a fair grasp of his own degree of influence.
The life a god gave had taken this form. That was all.
From the beginning.
Between the joy and the shock, Atem's head was close to panic.
Even so, part of her thinking stayed calm, and that part displayed the other party's stats. Over this year she'd been made to understand from every direction just who this rival of hers was. How much better it would have been never to have to think about it.
An ordinary woman might simply rejoice at a situation like this. But surely she couldn't leave it there.
Marriages among the powerful were not simple. Feelings alone did not settle them. She knew that well. Atem had never taken a wife, but the selection of candidates had been difficult going.
"Wait. I'm not prepared for this. And you're that Seto Kaiba. To be this casual about—"
"It could hardly be casual. Besides, I chose. So preparation of that kind is unnecessary as well."
"But—"
"I told you, didn't I. That nothing changes from until now. Only being beside you. Nothing changes. Will you accept it?"
Seto's voice, addressed to the flustered Atem, was gentle. Unhurried, as though explaining something to her.
Nothing changes. Only being beside her.
Atem had kept up with neither the dizzying developments nor the usual inscrutable theory, but she did want to be beside him, so she nodded slightly.
There was an element of being carried along by the mood, though she would never notice it.
That side of her, too, was unbearably dear to Seto.
He took the ring from the box and slipped it onto the third finger of her left hand.
Gold to suit her brown skin, and at its centre a Bekily blue garnet. A stone that turns from blue to red between day and night, keeping the colour of her eyes secret inside it. Even diamonds scattered around it as supporting players; it had considerable presence on Atem's slender finger.
But that was as it should be. It called to mind the ornaments she had left behind in that world. The stone's meanings, too — hope and rebirth, inner beauty, clarity, trust — there was no way it could fail to suit her.
"I can't wear something like this."
"That is the engagement ring. You needn't wear it. Though of course I'd prefer you did. For the wedding ring I'll have something simple prepared."
"Wedding ring. Wait, wait a moment, I still don't understand what any of this means — so let me sort it out first—"
"No problem. Leave it to me. Get used to it slowly."
This exchange, whose answer was already settled, would presumably continue until she accepted. Today there was no sign of his usual willingness to back off.
This — this handsome bastard!
"...Ah, fine! Understood. Understood. I'll leave all of it to you. I've washed my hands of it!"
By no reckoning was that a reply to a proposal.
Her feelings. Seto's feelings. They had been the same from the beginning, and now they were fulfilled. That was the only thing Atem understood at present.
Her heart, released from the tension, ought to have settled, and instead it hammered away. She didn't know why.
In Seto's arms, Atem sweetly accepted the shape of the love she had learned for the first time, and the happiness, and the place.
