More than a year has passed. Atem has started calling him Seto. The old group gathers for what Joey has decided is a revival party. Yugi watches Atem decline Joey’s invitation to come stay with him — watches her smile and say I’m staying here — and nearly cries. Later, Yugi tries to get answers and learns about a ring, and possibly a proposal. He goes to the lab for a direct conversation. Kaiba explains, quietly and with real anger underneath it, that Atem was raised with no room for personal desire. I’ll make a human of her, he says to no one in particular. Yugi goes home thinking he should have asked to see the ring.
This is a translation of an original work on Pixiv.
Original Title: 10 安全地帯
Original Author: 葉人(@Hathor₋yuki)
Personal site: https://prideshipping.sakura.ne.jp
The offhand remark she had made over a year ago — I became a girl, so I’m living at my boyfriend’s place — had turned out to be the truth after all.
Seto had genuinely become Atem’s boyfriend.
“Seto.”
“What is it?”
“...Never mind.”
“All right.”
The classic: calling someone’s name just to call it. Seto understood, and had not a single complaint — only the private, unexpressed thought that Atem was, as always, entirely dear to him.
From the day after their feelings came together, Atem had been calling him Seto. She had explained it, haltingly and with a red face: she couldn’t call him Seto when they were eventually going to be together, so she was going to start now. Stumbling over herself to say so, by way of excuse.
It was an excuse, but it was also the truth — what she really wanted was to be the only one who called him by name. Pure possessiveness, pure Atem.
The first time she said Seto had been in his room, just the two of them.
The morning after White Day, Atem had shown up at his door early. The events of the day before still felt half-unreal — but she had made up her mind.
“You’re early. What is it?”
“Good morning. ......Seto.”
He blinked several times, but the smile reached his mouth almost immediately. He answered while fastening his watch, in the same unhurried tone as always.
“Good morning, Atem.”
As calm as his voice. Except for Atem’s heartbeat.
“I’ve made up my mind... Seto. If I don’t do it today, I probably never will. Because I’m going to be a Kaiba someday.”
Her face was flushed, but her eyes were set like she was ready for a fight.
That resolve was real — Atem’s strength of conviction, once decided, was something Seto had seen many times. In the field, mostly. But all the same.
If Atem wanted to call his name, then he would simply give her every reason to. There was no shortage of support he was willing to offer.
“Whenever you like is fine. You calling my name is something I welcome.”
“...Seto.”
“In ordinary life, no one calls me that.”
Being called Seto — it happened, perhaps, when someone was trying to kill him. He was, broadly speaking, the sort of person who neutralised such attempts, through reflexes and environmental awareness and, when necessary, force.
“Seto.”
“What.”
Dressed and ready to leave, there was no gap in him from head to toe. Fingertips, nail tips — she knew they were meticulously kept. He had once suggested a nail care session when she mentioned his nails were neat, and she’d ended up having hers buffed alongside his. Since then, he called her over whenever he did his — and now Atem’s were always clean too.
The perfect man in front of her was her lover and her only person. The more she looked at him, the more her heart drummed with something that bordered on wanting to take her frustration out on him for being so objectively attractive. And they were just sitting together.
Something Téa had said came back to her. Good-looking, tall, brilliant — president of KaibaCorp, popular in Japan and America.
Atem’s memory was excellent. Think about him deliberately, and she could pull up anything from the past year without effort.
And apparently the rivals were numerous. Women everywhere falling for him, Téa had said. Countless.
This man was her boyfriend. The person she had pledged her future to.
Thinking of all that, her chest refused to be peaceful.
She said it quietly.
“You’re mine now.”
Atem’s jealousy was always completely transparent. This time it had taken the form of words — to Seto, that was simply Atem as she always was. He didn’t show it outwardly, but internally he had already arrived at Atem is especially dear today.
He took her hand, held her gaze, and said:
“It has always been so, from the beginning. You are the only one I love.”
“Love—! Oh, first thing in the morning, you’re so — this — you—”
This handsome menace.
“It’s simply the truth. You have nothing to worry about. I’m off.”
He ruffled her hair as he always did and left for work. She had never managed to say I love you too.
Being called by name was, of course, something Seto welcomed. There was no world in which hearing one’s name from the person one loved and whispering love in return was unwelcome.
The jealousy and possessiveness that came through so clearly alongside it only made Atem more endearing, naturally.
Atem used the Seto form of address only in front of the Kaiba brothers, as a rule. What there was to be embarrassed about, Seto didn’t know — but it was Atem’s to decide, and he said nothing about it.
Mokuba, naturally, noticed the shift in the relationship (in fact, he had noticed on the night of White Day itself, reading Atem’s face as she drifted down the hallway) — but didn’t make a particular point of it. He only quietly informed Téa, in her capacity as fellow co-conspirator.
Let’s have a revival party.
The suggestion, which made no particular sense, had come from Joey.
They didn’t need a reason to gather — but it made things more festive, apparently.
The venue was spacious, well-equipped, and lacking for nothing. No complaints from anyone except the host. Not that there were really complaints about the host either — Joey’s confrontational manner with Seto was simply habit at this point, and Seto’s poor attitude in return was equally habitual.
Atem had come to find it familiar, but she still thought they should both have stopped doing it by now. Everyone else who wasn’t those two felt the same. In truth, even the two of them found it tiresome — but habits were habits.
“Your friends appear to have arrived.”
She had assumed it was the system notifying him — apparently not. He could tell who had come by footsteps and voices.
Now that she thought about it — that time during the musical conversation with Téa, when he had seemed to sense Yugi’s approach and quietly tidied things away. That was probably how.
“Well, they’ll be coming to my room. Atem, go back to your room.”
“Why not come join us? It’s a revival party.”
“Do you think I would join?”
“I think you could.”
“I won’t. I have things to do. And no one comes into this room. Out.”
Seto put a hand on Atem’s shoulder and steered her into the corridor.
“Hey! Kaiba! What are you doing to Atem again?!”
“What exactly have I done?”
The small figure, pulled sideways, stumbled easily into Joey’s hands — and Yugi pulled Joey back. The usual sequence.
“Joey, I haven’t had anything done to me.”
“Exactly. And Atem is a girl, so stop grabbing at her like that. How would you feel if someone grabbed Serenity like that?”
“Wheeler will always be Wheeler. Atem — later.”
“Sorry, on your day off too.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Seto ran a hand lightly through Atem’s hair and walked away. That hand. Not Yugi’s, not Joey’s — a large, unhurried hand. He had probably headed to the lab. She watched his back for a moment, then turned to follow her friends toward her room.
A revival party — but in practice, the same as always.
Catching up on recent news. Playing games. Laughing at nothing in particular.
The only strange thing, as usual, was the inexplicable amount of sugar and milk Joey continued to pour into his coffee. Just order a café au lait, she thought, but didn’t say.
Yugi, though, couldn’t quite shake a restlessness that refused to go away.
What had happened on Valentine’s Day still stung a little — and seeing Seto’s face again after so long had made him want someone to end this suspense properly.
“Maybe I should go see Kaiba.”
A direct appeal. He was thoroughly done being strung along and used as a convenient nudge.
“Is it urgent? If not, I’d leave it.”
“Who’s fault is that — well, not entirely yours.”
Actually, on reflection, not entirely blameless either. Both members of this inconvenient couple deserved equal responsibility.
“He’s in the lab, so probably working. I can’t interrupt him.”
“Isn’t it his day off?”
“He’s basically always working. Rest is the exception. That guy really works an insane amount.”
“...I can’t interrupt that, then.”
“Does he do anything except duel and work? Atem, aren’t you bored here? I’m living on my own — why not come over?”
“I can’t do that. I’m staying here.”
Atem declined the offer with a gentle smile, eyes bright.
That expression. Yugi was certain. She had found a solid reason to stay — which meant the situation he had been quietly stressing over for some time had moved forward.
In that instant, the restlessness dissolved. In its place, something like being wrapped in the warmth of that light in Atem’s eyes.
He grabbed her by the shoulder, overwhelmed.
“Aibou?”
He didn’t answer, face still down.
A year of quiet anxiety. A wave of achievement with no clear origin. He was nearly in tears.
“What’s wrong? Do you have something to say to... him?”
She patted him on the shoulder — once, twice. She wanted to give it a proper thump to express herself, but the shoulder under her hand was too slight for that. She couldn’t.
“Aibou? Are you all right?”
He raised his head.
“Atem, congratulations. I’m so glad. I’m really glad for you. Really... really glad...”
Every word of it genuine.
“What for?”
What had been worth congratulating? She thought back — landed on those warm, quiet recent days — and felt the heat rise in her face.
Before Christmas, before Valentine’s, she had been told again and again. Yugi had been convinced all along that they were together. She had denied it then. She couldn’t deny it now.
Seto Kaiba was Atem’s boyfriend. Which meant they were together.
“No — wait, Aibou. Don’t tell me—”
“It’s not exactly a secret.”
“What’s going on?”
Tristan, with his sister, had a vague sense of it. He was perceptive.
Joey, with his characteristic lack of intuition, probably wouldn’t catch on until someone spelled it out.
Yugi thought, briefly and sadly, that no one would ever know how much he had suffered through this past year — and quietly resolved to make it a funny story someday.
Atem, not entirely sure why she felt embarrassed, said it’s nothing and waited for the conversation to move on.
When the working members of the group left for their night shifts and early starts, the room was down to Atem and Yugi.
After a year of being puzzled and used as a nudge, a little payback seemed reasonable.
“Hey, Atem. Can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“Have you maybe already received a ring?”
“Ah — well. Yeah.”
“Oh, that look. Were you actually proposed to?”
She didn’t answer — but her increasingly red face answered for her.
She could work through any game she encountered without blinking, but it seemed she couldn’t get used to a romance she’d never encountered before. Despite having been in love from the very beginning.
What is this, was all Yugi could think.
“Wh — what about you and Téa, then?”
She tried to redirect, but he wasn’t falling for it. On the topic of ordinary koibana, Yugi was considerably more functional than this newly self-aware natural wonder.
“I’m still a student. I’ve got time.”
“Is that how it works?”
“Generally, yeah. Not that it applies to you two.”
A love that had crossed dimensions to be fulfilled — no conventional timeline was going to apply there.
“So when’s it happening? Next month or so?”
“Hmm — when, I wonder?”
“...What?”
This was Seto Kaiba. The man for whom determination was written with the characters for his name. The man who got what he wanted by whatever means necessary.
And they had been in love from the very start without knowing it — Yugi had assumed they’d be married almost immediately. But.
A bad feeling settled in.
“Aibou — I’m starting to think I might not have any appeal.”
There it is. That familiar headache, returning right on schedule.
What was that man plotting now.
Atem’s question already had an answer — it was essentially just telling him about it.
“For something like that, you talk to Seto directly.”
Yugi said it with confidence.
Your turn to be inconvenienced, Seto, he thought privately — and then, immediately, the cooler part of his brain pointed out that he might be being used again even now.
I want no more involvement. Please stop pulling me in. That was his honest feeling.
“I did. He said I was appealing.”
Of course that was the answer. Pure gushing.
And yet something was sitting unresolved. Atem looked like she wanted to say more, then stopped herself.
Right. That man wouldn’t hold a hand and call it done. Yugi had just been unwilling to admit that what he thought was the ending had only been a beginning.
He let out a long breath.
“I don’t know what you’re worried about, but I’m not the one who can fix it. Maybe it’s Seto. Maybe it’s you.”
No clear reaction from Atem.
But it genuinely wasn’t Yugi’s problem, so there was nothing to be done.
“I should get going. You two talk it through properly. See you.”
“Yeah. See you.”
Leaving Atem’s room, Yugi didn’t head for the entrance.
He headed for the lab. Time for that direct appeal.
“Kaiba, do you have a minute?”
“Yugi. Come in.”
The lock disengaged. The door opened.
A quiet room. Components and tools. Displays open everywhere — probably company secrets, nothing he could read.
Navigating between them, he found Seto with a pen in his left hand and a pen in his right. What on earth.
Is he left-handed? No, he handles cards with his right. Maybe ambidextrous.
“What are you doing?”
“Can’t you tell?”
“No.”
Seto answered I see, then tapped the screen with the right pen, scrawled something quickly with the left, set both down, and turned his chair around.
Long legs crossed. One elbow on the armrest, head resting on it. Same excellent posture as always.
“Your business?”
Amused blue eyes met his.
The last time he’d faced him at this distance was when Atem was still living inside him. Don’t let him get into a gushing session, Yugi reminded himself — though Seto would probably restrain himself better than Atem did. Probably. Hopefully. If there was so much as a hint of warmth, the road ahead would be perilous.
How do you feel about Atem? — no, that was wrong. The answer was already decided. It would just become more gushing. He looked for better words.
In the end, he said exactly what he had come to say.
“Try not to... make Atem worry too much.”
“That’s her situation.”
“But you’re the cause.”
“You think so?”
“If you were a little more attentive, it would solve itself.”
If he cared about Atem, he should resolve her worries and anxieties. That was Yugi’s logic. Concern meant removing the source of concern.
But Seto’s understanding was different. He would be beside her, always. Together — but as two separate people, each turned toward the other. Of course he was attentive — but separately from that, there were things Atem herself needed to resolve. A certain kind of feeling, not yet fully formed.
“You’re the one who brought Atem back here in the first place.”
He was trying to say: take responsibility. Seto could agree with about half of it. Taking responsibility and making her happy — yes, that he agreed with, and would do.
What Yugi was trying to say, he understood. Atem’s vague, unformed feeling too. But the will that needed to exist within it — Atem’s own — hadn’t taken shape yet.
He could press. Atem was the type who would yield if pressed. It would resolve things, temporarily. And then it would happen again. He knew that. But that wasn’t the healthy, ideal form.
Seto’s eyes narrowed slowly. Yugi’s shoulders jumped.
“Should I simply get her pregnant, then?”
“That’s — that’s a bit far, don’t you think?”
Even Yugi had to push back on that.
But Seto’s expression was far more serious than Yugi had expected.
Seto exhaled quietly.
“I could simply keep her close and cherish her. I could give her everything she asked for. And then what?”
“...What do you mean, then what?”
“Where would her desires go. She was raised to be a living god, a king. To be that, precisely and always. No room for personal desire.”
Seto’s eyes dipped briefly. Long lashes. That face, still striking as ever.
Yugi understood. This person was taking care of Atem — and trying to make her happy as an individual.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t reaching out. It was that Atem hadn’t become aware of what she wanted yet. The fact that she hadn’t been taught even something this natural — Yugi felt something close to tears.
That shouldn’t be possible.
“I’ll make a human of her. Whatever else she was.”
Said to no one in particular, voice barely above a murmur. The anger in it — toward everything that had taken Atem’s freedom — was quiet and cold and entirely real.
Yugi’s spine went briefly cold.
Then Seto looked up as though nothing had happened.
“Satisfied?”
“Yeah. I didn’t have anything to say, it turns out. But — it’s surprising. That you’d feel this much for someone.”
“Not someone.”
Walking home in the dark, Yugi thought: he should have asked to see the ring.
The lab door opened, and Atem looked in.
“Seto — what were you talking to Aibou about?”
“You knew?”
“I had a feeling.”
“He came to lecture me.”
“Why? Did you do something?”
“No. It was his misunderstanding.”
All right, if you say so. Atem still looked a little unconvinced — so he set down his pen and waved her over.
She crossed the room, stepping around the open displays without hesitation, in a way that was quite different from Yugi. She came to his side.
He drew her close gently by the shoulder.
“Is there anything you like here?”
Where he pointed: several displays showing photographs and illustrations of rings.
Delicate, flowing lines. Something more angular. Stripped-down minimalism. And — apparently produced in a moment of creative confusion — a Blue-Eyes model. Handdrawn.
“That one’s a no.”
Atem moved the Blue-Eyes version aside immediately.
“Excuse me, are you picking a fight?”
“It’s a perfectly reasonable opinion. You’d have a lot of fans wanting it, though.”
“Hmm.”
“That’s not jealousy. It’s just true.”
“I’ll note it as one perspective. None of the others seem right either.”
“There are too many to pick from. But — I think something straight and simple would suit you. You’re so completely direct, Seto.”
“Is that so.”
A very Atem way of thinking. Someone else first, always, before herself.
He would have to figure out how to teach her to be selfish. She had apparently found an outlet in that priest — good or bad, some of it had probably spilled there. Not that he would ask about it.
“I lied. I am jealous.”
“I know.”
He had liked the other version of her too — the one that had lived as another self inside Yugi. But the straightforward Atem, with her memories intact, was, of course, just as good. The directness was all her.
He put his arms around her loosely from behind. She should have just leaned into him — but the tension won out, face going red, body going rigid.
That delayed response — the feeling arriving now for what had been there all along — was genuinely, helplessly endearing.
“Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if I were still a man. And it scares me a little. I’ve liked you from the beginning.”
“Even so, I would have loved you.”
He had overturned deserts, launched into space, and eventually walked into the Afterlife himself. All of it tracing back to one person, searched for and found with stubborn, single-minded persistence. No one — not even Mokuba, who had tried to stop him more times than he could count — would have called that the behaviour of Seto Kaiba.
“But if you were still a man, I couldn’t keep you to myself like this.”
“I would have found a way.”
The body in his arms gave a small start.
Atem’s hand came to rest over the arm around her.
“Stay like this. Always. That’s what’s good about you.”
Good — meaning: safe. That was what she meant.
For now, she didn’t need to learn to be selfish. She only needed to know this was a safe place. When she did, her desires would find their own way out. He could wait for that.
“I won’t change. Let’s eat.”
“Yeah.”
They looked at each other for a quiet moment, and then, hand in hand, left the lab.
