Near the end of summer, Atem is taken down by the heat and spends the day indoors. Téa visits, and somewhere in the conversation, Atem realises what Priest Seto’s change since the Afterlife actually means — that for them, it had not been a parting but a loss. When Seto comes home, she says she’s glad to see him, and means it in a way she doesn’t usually. What follows is quiet: her arms around his back, his arms around her, and finally, on a summer afternoon, Atem’s first kiss.
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
A White Day gift from Atem. She had deliberated between ebony and baobab, and chosen the baobab for its scale. A potted plant wasn’t going to achieve much in the way of scale — but it told him something about the impression he made. Solitary. Overwhelming strength. Something along those lines. Not bad.
The species Atem had chosen was Adansonia grandidieri. An unusual choice. Its characteristic upright trunk and upward-reaching branches — that, he could approve of.
As expected from his one and only rival in this life. She saw things well.
This summer he would let it grow freely, and once it had gained some height, he would shape it. A greenhouse might even be worth considering eventually. A baobab bonsai on his own desk was too surreal even for him — though if Atem told him to put it there, he intended to train it small and do exactly that.
He watered it first thing in the morning, glass in hand while brushing his teeth.
It had become a daily routine since the day it was given, and he managed it himself.
Atem’s room, too, had a plant.
Boswellia sacra. The source of frankincense — the tree that produces the resin used in perfumes. It had no particular flower language as such. Sacred purification. Healing and peace. Eternal life. Valued for these associations since ancient Egypt.
Seto had chosen it for her, found it fitting, and placed it in her room in early spring.
He had no particular reason for giving it. He simply thought it suited her. That was all.
With the warmer weather, it had put out several small new branches and leaves.
Stopping by Atem’s room on his way out one morning, he watered it and added liquid fertiliser.
Usually Atem managed it herself.
The reason Seto was doing it now — past Golden Week, at the threshold of a second summer — was that Atem was in the grip of weather sickness.
The first year had been fine.
She had spent most of it indoors, not going out much, and so the impact had been minimal.
But she had settled fully into life in Domino now, and had been wandering around as she usually did — until the humidity and the sudden heat had taken her down.
Several people had apparently been taken to hospital over the last few days of sharp temperature rise. The sirens had been more frequent than usual.
“Thank you for the water.”
“Think nothing of it. How are you feeling?”
“Sort of... constantly like I might be sick.”
She was saying don’t worry about me, go ahead — but what was that supposed to mean. If he actually left she would sulk, and he knew it.
“That’s not good.”
“But I can drink water, so it can’t be that bad, right?”
“Generally speaking, yes. I can’t come home early today — but contact me whenever you like, whether anything happens or not.”
“How are you fine? Egypt is hotter than this, and I’m — it doesn’t make sense.”
“Primarily a matter of climate difference. And how the body has been trained.”
“Damn it.”
She sank back into the bed with a look of pure frustration. He pressed his lips to her forehead — and she closed her eyes and went rigid. He touched her forehead or cheek sometimes before sleep, and she had still not quite got used to it. For Seto, this was simply as always: Atem is endearing today.
He watched her burrow into the sheets, searching for a comfortable position.
Water was held in muscle. Factoring in the difference between male and female bodies, and sheer physical size — it was no wonder Atem had struggled to keep up with Japan’s sudden weather shifts. Even if she had stayed a man, that slight frame would have had trouble with Japan’s abrupt transitions. Humidity in particular was the problem.
Thinking ahead to the summer coming, gradual heat acclimatisation might be worth considering — but that could wait until a doctor had explained it and Atem had decided on the timing herself.
In any case, recovery first.
“Rest. If you don’t stay still, I’ll worry.”
“Good. Worry as much as you like.”
She muttered it with a slight blush, sulking.
“All right. So rest properly.”
A sulking Atem was endearing — but only when she was well enough to sulk.
He didn’t want to leave his unwell girlfriend behind. He genuinely didn’t.
He smoothed her hair until she settled, and then left for work.
The experience had left Atem wary of going outside.
“Japan’s summer is not to be taken lightly.”
Japan’s summer was severe, certainly. And the rainy season hadn’t even started yet. The real heat would be worse.
“And the UV is brutal — your skin takes a beating even indoors. But never mind that — things seem to be going well with Kaiba.”
“How do you know that?!”
“Se-cret. My favourites are happy and I’m living for it.”
Without her quite noticing, Téa had become thoroughly invested in both Atem and Seto Kaiba as her favourites. The enthusiasm was considerable. When Mokuba had contacted her with the news, she had celebrated alone. She had wanted to include something alcoholic, but the drinking age in America was twenty-one, so she had restrained herself.
“Favourites? Téa?”
“Never mind, I’m so happy for you!”
“Right, but there’s something I wanted to ask—”
“Ask me anything.”
Téa leaned in before Atem could finish the sentence. She pulled back slightly. This was a different kind of alarming from Seto.
“You’re — a little frightening.”
“You’re imagining things. Tell me everything.”
Of course she was going to help. These were her favourites.
“Actually...”
Téa pressed a hand over her mouth at what followed.
A beautiful love story between her two favourites. A perfectly reasonable reaction.
The immediate concern: the worry that she wasn’t appealing enough. The same thing she had apparently told Yugi.
But this was girl to girl — and Téa’s level when it came to koibana was in an entirely different league from anything a man could offer.
“That’s a tender feeling to have. But why did you start thinking that?”
“I read that manga you mentioned before. In manga, when feelings are mutual, there’s usually... you know. Stuff.”
Slightly flushed, eyes not quite settling anywhere — Téa watched her with something warm and fond.
“And there isn’t. Ha — you’re being cherished.”
“Cherished?”
“The pattern where he cares about you so much he can’t bring himself to push. Too precious to touch.”
“That happens?!”
Atem was genuinely shocked.
Come to think of it — when she had asked Seto himself, his answer had been too appealing. Seto didn’t lie. That was exactly what had made it so puzzling.
“So — do you want it? The... you know. The stuff.”
Téa nudged her with an elbow.
“I — no. I can’t. I couldn’t.”
Seto. And things. That precise face right in front of her, and then — just the thought of it made her face go hot.
“He’s waiting. For when you feel ready.”
Téa’s instincts were not entirely wrong. Seto was indeed timing it to Atem’s readiness.
“Téa. I’m going to become a woman worthy of him.”
“You already are. If anything, what you need now is to prepare yourself mentally.”
“That’s true. At this point it might just be a matter of courage.”
“And — what else — a strong sense that no matter what, he’s yours. Confidence in the fact that he chose you. Having that might make things easier.”
She had been told the same thing on White Day — and on the question of confidence, she still didn’t feel she had enough.
She didn’t know how to become that strong.
Atem’s boyfriend, Seto Kaiba, was recognised everywhere and carried enormous social influence. Not just KaibaCorp products — even things he happened to wear sold out immediately. There were times she couldn’t understand why she had been chosen.
If they grew closer. If the bond became more real and solid — would confidence come then?
If there were proof that Seto was hers.
“There’s one more thing I wanted to ask.”
“Of course! What is it?”
“Is receiving a ring something special? Would it make someone happy?”
Téa glanced briefly at Atem’s left hand. Nothing there.
Something like this had probably come up, she guessed.
“A matching ring — I think that would be lovely. Like a charm, in a way.”
“A charm?”
“Yes. If it came from someone you loved, wouldn’t it feel like they were watching over you?”
“That makes sense. But he said I didn’t have to wear it.”
A ring already given. One she didn’t have to wear. It clicked.
This was exactly the moment when a woman’s instincts proved their worth.
“Oh, you! You’ve already been proposed to!”
“How do you always know everything?!”
To Atem, it felt roughly equivalent to having her mind read.
“I just do. What he gave you was an engagement ring. Engagement rings tend to be ornate — something you wear for special occasions. That’s probably why he said you didn’t have to. Usually people just wear a simple wedding band day to day.”
“He said he hadn’t decided on that one yet.”
“...You want it, don’t you.”
“Maybe.”
A wish this small — for someone who could make anything happen, it would be granted in an instant.
And honestly — even without Atem asking, she had thought he would probably insist she wear something for proprietary reasons alone. He had always seemed like the more possessive type.
She had half-imagined he would call a press conference the moment the engagement ring was accepted.
What stayed with Téa most strongly was the image from the time of the disappearance — Seto holding up the Puzzle, eyes scanning for Atem. He would have looked to the audience like the Seto Kaiba he always was: that fierce, unwavering gaze. But there had been something else underneath — an intent, a cold and calculated purpose that pointed somewhere specific.
Since Atem came back, the intensity was the same — but the colour of it had turned quiet.
“Why don’t you ask for it?”
“That too — I’m not quite mentally ready.”
Atem, flushed, impossibly endearing. To think this person had always been like this.
She had only ever shown the composed, battle-ready side of herself before — the contrast was striking.
Love had done this, Téa thought. The feeling you held for someone was something immense.
“Love changes people, doesn’t it.”
“Have I changed?”
“Yes. Beautifully.”
Atem didn’t quite know how.
But she felt it — felt herself shifting into something new. And if love was what had changed her, then the change itself was proof of the feeling.
Seto had changed too. Something had been different between the version she’d known through Yugi and the Seto who had met her again in the Afterlife.
“He changed too.”
“He was extraordinary, when you were gone. I think he used every means available to find you.”
That fierce, singular intent. Looking back now, he might have decided to go to wherever Atem was the moment the battle after the disappearance ended. There was no other explanation for that look in his eyes. Even Téa could see it.
“But the one being searched for also had a ha—”
Gone.
The word landed, suddenly, with full weight.
Not just Seto. Priest Seto had changed too. He had always been blunt — but when they met again in the Afterlife, he had lost whatever restraint remained.
That’s what it was. Atem let out a quiet breath.
For her it had been a parting. For them it had been a loss.
She had vanished. Without a word to anyone.
“I was terrible.”
“You weren’t terrible at all. You always saved everyone. And you will again — I’m certain of it. Which means that’s your appeal, and no one can match it.”
Téa was kind.
She had cried at their farewell, and then when Atem had come back without warning, she had welcomed her with joy rather than anger.
Was that what Yugi loved in her? She didn’t know.
But she wanted to see Seto.
Two days passed. A weekday afternoon — and they were finally face to face again.
There was nothing particular she meant to say. She went to his room the moment he was home.
She just wanted to see his face. And she wanted him to know she was here. That she wasn’t going anywhere. That he didn’t need to search for her anymore.
“Welcome back.”
“I’m back. Is something the matter?”
“No. Nothing.”
“Something is clearly the matter.”
He shrugged off his jacket, loosened his tie, undid two buttons at his collar.
Then he reached out and caught her, and she folded into his arms without resistance.
Her hand found its way around his back. The distance closed.
“I’m glad to see you.”
“Same.”
Glad to see you.
She didn’t say things like that after ordinary business trips.
Which meant it was the literal truth — and that she had felt, somewhere in herself, the fear that seeing him might not always be certain.
Something had shifted in her. This wasn’t a conversation for standing in the middle of a room.
Seto moved to the nearest sofa, sat down, and drew her onto his lap with an arm around her. The warmth of her body told him she was here, now, real.
She looked as though she might start crying at any moment — and said nothing. Perhaps that was exactly why.
Pull it out gently. Guess at it. Or wait. Any number of approaches came to mind. He chose to wait.
This was Atem’s to carry. He would help with anything she needed — but leading her was not his place.
After a long silence, she spoke. As though to herself. As though it were a confession.
“I did something terrible.”
Atem had always had a strong sense of justice. The idea of her doing something terrible was almost impossible to imagine.
“You? What on earth did you do?”
“...I disappeared.”
He nearly tightened his hold — and stopped himself. He could not show any sign of disturbance. He had to receive what Atem was saying. Simply receive it.
He reminded himself: that loss would never happen again. He pressed down the beat that had jumped in his chest.
The man who had been his one and only rival. Who had made a promise of rematches, of a road stretching further than either of them could see. Gone within a single month of Seto looking away. Nowhere to hold onto.
Remembering — it wasn’t without pain. Even knowing it would never happen again, it hadn’t fully faded. Like a wound still sharp enough to bleed.
The warmth in his arms now had not come easily. From ancient ruins — the very symbol of everything past — all the way to the cutting edge, to space itself brought under his control, and still not enough, driving into research and analysis of other dimensions, other worlds, until finally arriving here.
And arriving had only been the beginning — staying at Atem’s side, being present enough that when she reached out his hand was already there. Waiting for the moment she would choose the living world. Always positioned to take that hand the instant she extended it.
He had never once resented the energy or the cost. As both a CEO and a leading engineer and researcher, he had processed quantities of work no ordinary person could manage. But having a singular goal — finding and keeping the one person — had been his engine, and it had run without limit.
Yes, she had slipped through his hands once. But the result was here. The arms around him were warm.
Atem was here. That was healing the wound.
“But I found you.”
The arm she had put around his back loosened, and Atem pressed her face to his chest. Listening to his heartbeat. Her hand gripped his shirt like she was holding on.
“Even so. I wished peace for those left behind — but I never thought about their grief. Three thousand years ago. And here, in the living world. It was always the same.”
Three thousand years ago. A life given to protect the kingdom.
The details — the evil god, the sealing, all of it — he had heard the broad shape of it during his visits to the Afterlife, so he understood. The pain of having to choose that parting, and the loss it left — he couldn’t claim not to understand. Put on a scale, they might even balance.
The wound would heal in time. But it was still vivid now. The same was probably true for Atem. So there were no words to offer. All he could do was hold her.
It had been only a year since he took her hand and brought her here. To him, it was not memory, not even sentiment yet — a sharp and living reality, something that could still pull at him if he wasn’t careful.
Perhaps someday, when enough time had passed and the wound had closed, he would be able to say you fought well — but neither of them was there yet.
He wanted to receive this and heal it. But all he could do was take Atem’s words as they were.
“I see.”
“...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say any of this.”
What had brought Atem here was simpler than this — she had wanted to show him her face, to let him feel that she was here, that he didn’t need to search, that he could rest easy.
She shifted as if to climb off his lap. This time, he held her firmly.
This moment could not be let go. She could not be left alone — not now.
“Then don’t disappear. Stay here.”
He said it slowly, as though explaining something to someone. He could have begged — the impulse was there — but he couldn’t show that. It would only deepen her unease.
And he knew, even as he said it, that the words were almost cruel. That this was what would break the dam.
Atem’s large crimson eyes filled, and the tears fell.
He had never wanted to make her cry. He didn’t want it now.
But crying was an overflow of feeling. If this was what Atem needed, then so be it — even if it was something he would rather not cause.
He reached into his jacket for a handkerchief and pressed it gently to the corners of her eyes.
She probably didn’t know how to stop crying. She looked bewildered, distressed, tears coming one after another.
And they called this a god. The thought almost made him want to laugh.
“Seto. Keep me here. Tie me to this place, to your side.”
“You’re already free. You can stay beside me as long as you want, whenever you want — by your own will. So stay.”
“I will... I won’t... disappear anymore...”
Still crying. Still caught between the parting and the loss, still struggling with both.
She didn’t need to confess her way through a second life. This life was hers to live fully, to be simply, completely happy in.
This was not a god’s name. Atem was the name of one single person.
The ties of three thousand years had been settled. There was a nominal leave of absence — but no mission binding her now. Atem existed in the living world as one life, one human being.
And she was his only one.
“Be at ease. I won’t let you go. Disappearing is impossible. There is nothing to be afraid of.”
He held her a little tighter. She leaned into him and gave a small nod.
“...Being here calms me. My heart goes quiet.”
A safe place.
She had finally found it. She was saying it was here.
The tenderness that rose in him was without limit. Let her be selfish someday, demand things, complain — he would be glad to hear all of it.
“You may not know — but simply having you beside me is enough to quiet everything in me as well.”
“You too?”
“Yes.”
“...Then this is where I belong.”
Atem was an extraordinary source of peace. Even that wretched birthday had been no match for her.
The tears had nearly stopped. The eyes looking up at him held trust — the same gaze that had caught him across the field at Battle City, again and again.
And behind it now, something that hadn’t been there then — a trembling warmth, a wanting, and a will attached to it.
“Seto. I’m here.”
The voice carried intent. Resolution. Something decided.
He had been waiting for this. The signal that it was all right now. That here was where she wanted to be.
He could have closed the distance himself, and Atem would have accepted it — he knew that.
The reason he hadn’t touched her until now was simply that he had been looking for the desire in her to close it herself. And he had found it now.
I want more of you, her eyes said. Now was the moment, wasn’t it, Atem.
“Yes. Atem.”
He cupped her face in his hand and drew close.
Slowly, her eyes fell shut.
A summer afternoon.
In a world of ordinary, quiet peace, Atem had her first kiss.
The nervousness she had worried about never came. Nor the embarrassment.
Again and again, like confirming that this moment was real — each one brought a warmth that settled into something like rest.
