Two potted plants, both chosen without a reason either party will admit to.
Téa hears out Atem's worry that she has no appeal and diagnoses the opposite.
Then, mid-sentence, Atem understands what her disappearance was from the other side — not a parting but a loss — and takes it to Seto, who has to hold still while she says it.
This is a translation of an original work on Pixiv.
Original Title: 11 昼下がりの懺悔
Original Author: 葉人(@Hathor_yuki)
Personal site: https://prideshipping.sakura.ne.jp
It was given to him by Atem on White Day. She had apparently wavered between ebony and baobab, and chosen the baobab because the scale of it was enormous.
At pot size it was hardly going to become anything of enormous scale, but he understood well enough what sort of impression he gave. Solitary, overwhelmingly powerful — something in that region. Not bad.
The species Atem had chosen was Adansonia grandidieri. An unusual choice. As a characteristic, the trunk stands straight and the branches grow upward; that part he could approve of.
His lifelong one and only rival indeed — she understood him, and she had an eye for the right detail.
He would let it grow through this summer as it was, and once it had a reasonable height, shaping the form would make it look the part.
He might as well prepare a greenhouse. A baobab bonsai on his own desk was far too surreal. Even so, if Atem told him to put it there, he intended to train it small and put it there.
Watering was immediately after waking, from a glass, while brushing his teeth.
It had been the daily routine since it was given to him, and Seto managed it himself.
And in Atem's room there was one potted plant as well.
Boswellia sacra. The tree that yields frankincense, the perfume ingredient. It has no particular flower language attached to it. Sacred purification, healing and peace, eternal life. It had been prized as an anchor for such things since the days of ancient Egypt.
It was in early spring that Seto had chosen the one that suited Atem and set it in her room.
There had been no reason for giving it. He'd thought it suited her; that was all.
Perhaps because it had grown warmer, it had put out several small branches and taken on leaves.
Before leaving for work, Seto had stopped by Atem's room and was giving it water and liquid fertilizer.
Ordinarily Atem managed it herself.
Seto was tending it because, at this threshold where Golden Week had passed and a second summer was about to begin, Atem was being spectacularly laid low by weather sickness.
The first year had been fine.
She had spent most of it indoors and hadn't walked about outside much, so the damage was slight.
Thoroughly accustomed now to life in the living world, in Domino, she had been wandering about as usual and had apparently been done in by the humidity and the temperature.
With the sudden heat, several people had actually been taken to hospital. Certainly the sirens had been more frequent than usual these last few days.
"Thank you for the water."
"Don't concern yourself. How are you?"
"I don't know how to put it. I feel sick, constantly..."
Never mind me, go on ahead — she said things like that, but what was she talking about. She'd sulk if he actually went on ahead.
"That won't do."
"But if I can take in fluids, that means I'm all right, doesn't it?"
"That is broadly what's said. I can't come home today, but contact me as you like, whether there's anything or not."
"Why are you fine? And it isn't even as hot as Egypt. It's strange."
"The difference in climate is the main factor, but our conditioning is different."
"Damn it."
When he kissed the forehead of the Atem sinking into the bed in frustration, she closed her eyes and went stiff. He touched her forehead or her cheek now and then, before sleep and so on, but she still didn't seem used to it. To Seto this too was business as usual, arriving at Atem is dear again today.
He watched her wrap herself in the sheets and squirm about, apparently searching for a comfortable position.
Water is held in the muscles. From the standpoint of the differences between men and women and in build, it was hardly unreasonable that Atem had failed to keep up with the change in climate and gone down.
Even supposing she had stayed a man, that small body could never have withstood the sudden shifts of the Japanese climate. The humidity in particular was troublesome.
Thinking of the summer to come, acclimatising to the heat early might be a good idea, but she could hear an explanation from a physician and decide the timing herself.
In any case, that was a conversation for after she recovered.
"Stay in bed. If you don't keep still I'll worry."
"You can worry all you like."
Atem pouted, going slightly red.
"Ah. So rest properly."
A sulking Atem was endearing, but only if she was healthy.
The truth was he didn't want to leave a lover who felt unwell.
Seto stroked Atem's head, confirmed that she had settled, and left for work.
Because of all that, Atem had become wary of going outside.
"Japanese summers are not to be underestimated."
Japanese summers were certainly harsh. But the rainy season hadn't even started. When summer proper arrived it would be far worse.
"And the UV ruins your skin, doesn't it. You get sunburnt even indoors, it's unbearable. More to the point — it looks like things are going well with Kaiba."
"How do you know that!"
"It's a se-cret. My oshi and my oshi are happy and it's precious."
Before anyone knew it, Téa had become a thorough supporter of Atem and Seto Kaiba. Her firepower, moreover, was on the strong side. When Mokuba contacted her she had gone so far as to hold a party by herself. She'd really have liked alcohol in it. It was twenty-one in America, so she restrained herself there.
"Oshi? Téa?"
"Never mind. I'm glad for you!"
"Yes. Only, there's something I wanted to ask about that—"
"Ask me anything at all."
At Téa's leaning in, Atem drew back in spite of herself. Frightening in a different sense from Seto.
"S-something about you is frightening?"
"You're imagining it. Tell me everything."
Of course, she would spare no cooperation for her oshi.
"Actually......"
At Atem's confidence, Téa pressed a hand to her mouth without meaning to.
A lovely love story between her oshi and her oshi. In a sense a perfectly normal reaction.
The trouble at hand was the anxiety that she might have no appeal. The same one she'd taken to Yugi.
But here they were both women, and Téa's level in koibana was far higher; on that front men were nowhere close.
"That's painful, isn't it. But why did you start thinking that?"
"I read that manga you mentioned before. In manga, once feelings reach each other, there's — well, various things, aren't there?"
Cheeks slightly coloured, gaze unsettled — Téa watched Atem in that state with a warm feeling.
"And there isn't any. Ha, you're being treated as precious."
"Treated as precious?"
"It's the pattern where he treasures you too much to lay a hand on you."
"Such a thing exists?!"
Atem was struck.
Certainly, when she'd asked Seto himself, the answer had been too appealing.
Seto did not lie. Which was why she'd found it strange.
"So — do you want to? All the var-i-ous things."
Téa elbowed Atem.
"N-no. I can't."
Seto, and various things. That handsome face right in front of her, and then... Just imagining it made her face hot.
"He's waiting for you. For the time when you feel you can."
A woman's intuition, if not exactly on target, was not far off. Seto was indeed timing the moment Atem's preparations were complete.
"Téa. I'm going to become a woman worthy of him."
"You already are. If I had to say — what you need is to be ready in yourself."
"That's true. Beyond that it might be nothing but nerve."
"And, let's see, a strong heart that says Kaiba is yours no matter what happens. Confidence that says you're the one he chose. Having that might make you feel braver."
She'd been told the same thing that White Day, but as for confidence, she still couldn't think she had enough.
How anyone became that strong, Atem still didn't know.
Atem's boyfriend, Seto Kaiba, had high recognition and social influence. He was a man whose worn possessions sold out instantly, never mind KaibaCorp's products.
Now and then she stopped understanding why she had been the one chosen. If they touched, if the bond became firmer, would she be able to have confidence?
If there were proof, for instance, that Seto was hers.
"There's one more thing I wanted to ask."
"Of course! What is it?"
"Is receiving a ring something special? If you were given one, would you be happy?"
Téa glanced at Atem's left hand. Nothing on it.
Probably that sort of conversation had come up, she guessed.
"Matching rings would make me happy. It's like a charm, isn't it?"
"A charm?"
"Yes. If it's from someone who matters to you, doesn't it feel as though they're protecting you?"
"I see. But he said I didn't have to wear it."
A ring she didn't have to wear, already given. It clicked.
A woman's intuition demonstrated its power in exactly this sort of moment.
"Well done you! You've already been proposed to!"
"Why do you understand every single thing!"
By Atem's reckoning this was on par with Mind Scan.
"Of course I understand. What you got is an engagement ring. Engagement rings are sparkling, and they're often worn for special occasions. That's probably why he said you didn't have to wear it. Usually people wear just the simple wedding band day to day."
"He said he hadn't decided which one that'll be yet."
"...You want it, don't you."
"Perhaps I do."
A wish of this size would surely be granted at once by a man for whom nothing was out of reach.
Or rather, she'd have thought that even without Atem wanting it, he'd try to make her wear it, calling it a repellent for insects. She'd thought he was a more possessive person than this.
Her image was of a man who would hold an engagement press conference the moment Atem accepted the ring.
What had left a strong impression on Téa were Seto's eyes during the disappearance, searching for Atem, holding the Puzzle aloft.
To the audience, the strong gaze he'd always had would have looked like the usual Seto Kaiba. But it had held a colour like some scheme or intent, a cold calculation in service of it.
What she'd seen since Atem came back was a gaze still as strong, but of a calmer colour.
"Then why not ask him for it?"
"For that too, I'm not ready in myself."
Atem was going red, and very endearing. To think this person, too, had been someone this endearing.
She'd shown almost nothing but her gallant figure in battle, so the gap was considerable.
This was surely what love had changed. Feelings toward someone were very strong.
"Love really does change people."
"Have I changed?"
"Yes. You're lovely."
How she was lovely, she didn't understand.
Atem was bewildered at changing, and at the same time felt glad of it. If love had changed her, that was proof of the feeling.
Speaking of change, Seto had changed as well. Something felt different between when she'd existed as Yugi and when they'd met again in the afterlife as Atem.
"He's changed too."
"After you were gone, he was something else. I think he used every means there was to find you."
An overwhelming will. Thinking of it now, he might already have decided to go to the world Atem was in after that battle during the disappearance. That colour in his eyes could not be read any other way. Even Téa thought so.
"But it was hard on the ones doing the search— ing..."
——After you were gone.
Abruptly, it fell into place.
Not only Seto. Priest Seto had changed too. He had always been the blunt type, but when they'd met again in the afterlife he had lost even more of his reserve.
So that was it. Atem let out a small breath.
To her it was a parting; to them it was a loss.
She had suddenly vanished without telling anyone. What a thing she had done.
"I'm a terrible person."
"You're nothing of the sort. You always saved everyone, didn't you. And you will from now on too. Which is exactly the kind of appeal nobody can beat."
Téa was kind.
She'd cried at the parting and begged her not to go, and when she'd suddenly come back, Téa hadn't been angry — she'd been glad.
Was it this side of her that Yugi had fallen for? She didn't know.
She didn't know, but she wanted to see Seto.
She was able to see Seto's face at last on the afternoon two days later.
There was nothing in particular to say, but she went to his room to see him, only just back as he was.
She wanted to see his face quickly. And she wanted to tell him she was here at his side. That she wasn't going anywhere, so he didn't need to search.
"Welcome back."
"I'm home. Is something the matter?"
"No. Nothing's the matter."
"It can hardly be nothing."
He took off his jacket, loosened his tie, and undid two buttons of his shirt.
When he reached out from where he was and caught hold of Atem, she came into his arms without resistance.
A hand extended quietly went round her back, and the distance vanished.
"I'm glad to see you."
"The same for me."
Glad to see you.
Even with the business trips she was used to, Atem didn't say considerate things like that.
Which meant that glad to see you was meant exactly as spoken — that she had felt fear at the uncertainty of being able to see him.
There seemed to have been some change of heart. This was not a conversation for standing up.
Seto sat on the nearest sofa, drew her onto his lap and put his arms around her. A warm body told him that Atem was here, now.
He thought she might begin to speak, but Atem said nothing. Wearing a face close to tears. Which was presumably the reason.
Ask her sweetly, guess at it, or something else. He could think of any number of ways to draw it out, but Seto chose to wait, slowly.
This was Atem's problem; he would help as much as she liked, but leading her was another matter.
After a considerable pause, Atem opened her mouth as though resigning herself.
As though talking to herself, it was for all the world a confession.
"I did something terrible."
Atem had always been a person with a strong sense of justice. Doing something terrible was unimaginable.
"You did? What exactly is it you claim you did?"
"...I was gone."
Seto almost put strength into his arms, and stopped himself. He must not show agitation here. He had to receive what Atem said.
Telling himself that loss would never be repeated, he suppressed the beat that had jumped for an instant.
The man who had been his lifelong one and only rival, vanished in the single month he'd looked away. When they had sworn a rematch, and a road stretching on past all sight.
Remembering it, it was not as though there was no pain. Even knowing it wouldn't be repeated, it hadn't entirely gone — like a wound that still bled.
The body warmth in his arms like this had been anything but an easy road. From ancient ruins, the very symbol of the past, to placing under his control even space, presumably the leading edge and the exact opposite of them, and still not enough — research and analysis in pursuit of other worlds, other dimensions, until at last he arrived.
Of course arriving was only the beginning; he stayed beside her so that he would be at the far end of whatever Atem reached for, and waited for the moment she wished for the living world. So that he could take that hand at any time. So that he would be what it reached.
He had never regarded the energy or the cost invested as a burden. Because he was in the front rank not only as an executive but as an engineer and a researcher, he processed a volume of tasks impossible for an ordinary person.
But finding and obtaining the one had become the driving force, and that sort of thing welled up without limit.
Certainly, once, he had let him slip through these hands and lost sight of him. Even so, the result was here now. In fact, his arms were warm.
Atem was here. That was what healed the wound.
"But I found you."
The arms Atem had put around Seto's back came away, and she pressed her face flat against his chest. She was checking his heartbeat, presumably; her ear was against it. Her hands gripped his shirt as though clinging to it.
"Even so. I wished for the peace of those left behind, but I never thought about their grief. Not three thousand years ago, and not in the living world either."
Three thousand years ago. She had sacrificed her life to protect the country.
Evil gods and seals and the like were a story he couldn't begin to comprehend, but he'd heard most of the circumstances while visiting the afterlife, so he knew.
There was no way he could fail to grasp how great the pain of having to choose parting must have been, thinking of the loss it caused. Put on the scales, the two would balance.
The time when the wound healed would come eventually. But for now he still remembered it vividly. It had to be the same for Atem. So there were no words to offer. All he could do was hold her in his arms and comfort her — for now.
Only a year ago he had taken her hand and brought her out. To Seto that was not memory, not even sentiment; it was real, a sharp-edged present that could drag him under if he let it.
Someday, when time had passed and the wound had healed, a day might come when he could praise her for a battle well fought, but neither of them could do that yet.
He'd have liked to take it all in and heal it. But all Seto could do was accept Atem's words as they were.
"I see."
"...I'm sorry. I didn't come here meaning to talk about this."
Atem had come here so that Seto would see her face and feel that she was here, that he didn't need to search, that he could be at ease.
Atem shifted as though to get down from his lap, so this time he held her tightly. This moment must not be let go. She must not be left alone. That was what he thought.
"Then don't be gone. Stay here."
He said it slowly, as though explaining. He'd have liked to plead, but he could show nothing of the sort. It would only stoke her anxiety further.
At the same time, he knew this was nothing but a finishing blow, and that the dam would surely break.
From Atem's large crimson eyes, tears finally spilled.
He harboured no platitudes about wanting her to smile always, but he certainly didn't want to make her cry.
Crying is a torrent of feeling. Even if this was necessary for Atem, it was not something he'd have chosen.
Seto reached out, took a handkerchief from his jacket and pressed it to Atem's eyes.
She surely didn't know how to stop tears. Bewildered, at a loss, she wept without stopping.
This is a god? Don't make me laugh.
"Seto. Will you tether me here — beside you?"
"You are free now. By your own will, as long as you like, you can be beside me. So stay here."
"Ah... I won't... be gone anymore..."
Spilling tears, she was still bound and suffering under parting and loss. A second life needed no confession; it was a life to be celebrated, and it needed only to be happy.
This creature, Atem, was not the name of a god. It was the name of one single human being.
The three thousand years of entanglement had been settled. There was the nominal matter of leave, but no binding duty. Atem was a human being with a single life, existing in the living world.
And she was Seto's one and only.
"Be at ease. I won't let go of you. Being gone is impossible. There is nothing to fear."
When he held her a little more tightly, Atem gave herself over and nodded slightly.
"...When I'm here, my heart settles."
That was safe ground.
At last, Atem had found it. And she said it was here — the feeling of tenderness seemed to well up without end. Someday she could come to him with selfishness or anything else.
"You wouldn't know it, but simply being beside you like this makes my feelings go calm."
"You too?"
"Yes."
"...I see. Then this is where I belong..."
Atem was overwhelming relief. Even that hateful birthday was no match for her.
Wiping away tears that had at last begun to stop, what dwelt in the eyes looking at him was trust — the gaze that had pierced him again and again at Battle City.
And beneath it, something that had not been there then: a wavering affection, desire, and the will that came with it.
"Seto. I'm here."
It was a voice that suggested intent, resolve, things of that sort.
She was waiting. That it was all right now. That here was where she wanted to be.
Had Seto closed the distance himself, Atem would presumably have accepted that too.
That he had not touched her until now was nothing more than searching for a desire on Atem's part to close the distance. And now he had found it.
I want to touch you more, her eyes said. Atem — so it was now.
"Indeed. Atem."
He laid a hand against her cheek and brought his face close.
Slowly, her eyes lowered.
A summer afternoon.
In an unremarkable, peaceful world, Atem exchanged her first kiss.
There was neither the tension she'd worried about nor embarrassment.
Exchanged again and again as though confirming that they were here, now, it brought a comfortable peace.
