Atem goes home to the afterlife and, walking through the throne room, feels something she cannot name. Priest Seto asks her one question, and the thing loses its name before she can find it. He has been watching the board since before any of it began, and the piece that plays it best has never once known it was a piece.
This is a translation of an original work on Pixiv.
Original Title: -- 幸福の檻
Original Author: 葉人(@Hathor_yuki)
Personal site: https://prideshipping.sakura.ne.jp
If you're the curious sort, or here for the psychological thrill, you may be welcome.
The main story is finished, so for those who want a happy ending and intend to read on anyway — please do arm yourself with this so-called preparation of the heart first.
The wedding safely over, Atem had gone home to the afterlife together with Seto.
Walking through the throne room, Atem felt a faint wrongness.
Was this what she was?
Though it concerned herself, she couldn't recall it properly. She should be able to remain as before, unchanged. Because nothing had changed.
But she didn't know.
There was a wrongness she couldn't organise even for herself, couldn't put into words.
Spreading in the depths of her chest, it was quiet, but it was certainly there.
That nameless feeling — no, the thing that must not be given a name — what was it?
"...I..."
The murmur that never became a voice dissolved in her throat.
Then, from the shadow of a pillar, a gentle low voice addressed her.
"Are you happy?"
It was Priest Seto.
The tone seemed to be a question and seemed to be certain of its answer, and therefore also sounded slightly teasing.
Atem's head came up at once.
Priest Seto was watching her with a calm expression, like the one in her daily life now.
Happy.
The instant she heard the word, the shadow of the wrongness in her chest wavered as though the ground had been taken out from under it.
The shadow vanished before it could become words.
"Seto..."
Should she tell him about this wrongness? Priest Seto would surely put it into language for her.
But if she spoke of this shadow, she would surely be unable to go back.
Unable to go back. Back where? And why?
To an Atem with no answer, Priest Seto seemed not to mind particularly, and let out a short breath, amused.
"Isn't that one waiting for you?"
It took an instant.
The one Priest Seto called that one was Seto.
Seto. By that name, the black shadow was painted over with the light of a warm reality.
The wrongness became invisible as a momentary wavering, and what remained in her chest was a little embarrassment and happiness.
What surfaced in her head was only the figure of Seto waiting.
The one who would be beside her always; beloved, certain. Her own happy place to be.
The shadow was erased, and its name and its words were taken from it.
It would never be spoken again.
What came out of her mouth instead was a murmur meant to return her there.
"Seto, I'm happy."
It was like a flower opening.
The moment those words were expelled, the pain in her chest vanished.
In truth it had not vanished. It had only sunk to where Atem could not become aware of it.
Because the door there had closed without a sound.
That her escape route had been blocked, Atem did not notice.
Priest Seto lowered his gaze and smiled thinly.
"That is a very good thing indeed."
There was no coldness in the tone; if anything it resembled mercy.
At Atem's wish — she wanted to report to a few people — they had passed through the gate and set foot in the afterlife.
He had no intention of bringing Atem to the afterlife again, but if she wished it there was nothing for it.
Leaning his back against a pillar, he watched the several priests who had gathered leave the throne room, and waited for Atem.
He had stood by in case voices were raised trying to keep Atem in the afterlife, but that had apparently been needless worry.
"Sorry. Did I keep you waiting?"
Entirely naturally, Atem came back.
"Welcome back."
"I'm home. ...Somehow, being told welcome back by you is something I can't get used to."
Welcome back, and to that Atem answered I'm home. In that was proof of where Atem's home was.
"How was the afterlife after all this time?"
"Ah — everyone's unchanged."
Atem narrowed her eyes and answered at leisure.
Unchanged, no doubt. That industrious priest was certainly working as ever.
He'd heard that he had governed this world as proxy for three thousand years, and among those measures, a system that would turn even without Atem must have been built at a very early stage. That one was, after all, a thorough man.
"I see."
Atem opened her mouth, a little shy and a little pleased.
"...Priest Seto asked me just now whether I was happy."
"And?"
"I answered that I was."
In Atem's eyes dwelt pure relief and satisfaction, and love for Seto.
Happy. That single word rang out clearly in the stillness of the afterlife.
Inside Seto's heart as well, happiness and joy and love quietly filled him.
That Atem was happy like this, and that he could witness it.
He had accomplished it with these hands. There was a deep satisfaction in it, exchangeable for nothing.
Seto pretended to receive those words head-on.
His gaze soft, his voice quiet, he returned only a single word.
"I see."
Behind it, inside Seto, the pleasure of love and of dominion ran through him.
This was proof that she had come back here exactly as calculated.
She had said happy of her own wish, and put the chain on herself. No one could blame him for it now. Not that he would let anyone blame him.
When Atem was jealous, Seto satisfied that possessiveness, and it clothed Atem herself in love and took away her movement.
When Atem bound him, Seto let himself be bound, and gave Atem the satisfaction and relief of having caught him, and that bound Atem herself.
Seto had given freedom, and love, and everything that could be given without mercy; had taken hold of it and shut it in.
Into this invisible greenhouse of happiness.
Joy that the place Atem returned to was here. But he didn't smile.
A dim smile he would never show Atem.
Instead he wore a calm one, and gently drew her shoulder in.
"Be beside me like this. That alone is enough."
Clinging to Seto's chest, the smile Atem returned held, as ever, love and the relief of this being where she belonged.
And in the heart of the Seto looking down at that face, laughter no one would ever know was ringing.
It was happy laughter, full of victory and affection and the sweet pleasure of possession.
The instant Atem wore her relieved smile, held in Seto Kaiba's arms with her face buried against his chest.
A cold gaze was being directed at Seto Kaiba's back. There was not a fragment of malice in it. Only the gaze of an observer.
Seto. The one and only being who saw through Seto Kaiba's heart, his design, that unshown smile.
His mouth twisted faintly. This too was not from displeasure.
"You look satisfied, Seto Kaiba."
He let it fall, quietly. The voice of course did not carry.
Seto had grasped that Seto Kaiba had taken Atem completely into his hands.
And at the same time, that Seto Kaiba, while being a co-creator of this cage, was himself also caught in it.
"That happiness, that pleasure — I'll make them part of the cage too."
It was neither reward nor mercy nor anything of the kind.
It was convenient for binding Atem to happiness; that reason alone.
Seto's whisper was heard by no one and vanished like the wind.
Seto Kaiba did not turn around. He only held the happy Atem in his arms.
Yes. That will do.
Seto's shadow drew quietly away, holding everything in hand. From the beginning, all along, and now as well.
Seto knew that Atem had felt a wrongness, and knew its identity as well.
It was despair at no longer being able to be a king or a god, because she had been brought down, unknowing, into a human being.
He had gone to the trouble of having that one kill a god. He would never let her be a god again.
Such buds are best plucked early.
Are you happy? — that question to Atem was an adjustment of the board, to turn her eyes to the reality of happiness and swap her thinking out from the wrongness to the happiness where her accomplice waited.
Do that, and the two would overwrite each other with happiness of their own accord. That one was the finest of pieces.
Advance matters as planned, kill the god within Atem, bind her with love, and as a result the cage becomes still stronger.
And a cage is not enough if it only shuts something in.
Captivity by the name of happiness can slacken at times and creak at others. Atem had to be captive in the appropriate manner.
So Seto made even Seto Kaiba's happiness and pleasure into timber for the cage.
Each time Atem said the words I'm happy, that one would feel happiness in the pleasure of dominion and affection.
That love and that pleasure were themselves the chain.
Then that one would surely try to give still more. And Atem would receive it more readily and try to return the feeling. The chain of it would continue forever.
Seto had only to watch from a distance.
A cage that loved and entwined and strengthened itself.
Reinforced by the reality of happiness, it could surely no longer be broken from within.
Seto lowered his eyes thinly, as he had toward Atem a short while ago, and smiled.
"That is a very good thing indeed. Atem."
A boy who ended his life at only sixteen.
To Seto, a king was nothing but a god.
But the fact of that king, that god, had been far too heavy. Because he had been king, he had no freedom, was bound, and even his future was closed off.
So at least from here on, it was enough that he simply be happy.
The god is dead, Atem has become human, and she is within happiness.
Atem feels happiness and says the word happy. Seto's offering had shown him the finished design.
Seto's voice vanished into empty air like the wind.
But that single phrase rang like the sound of a hammer driving in the final key.
The cage he had designed was complete, and its lock was closed.
The happy future he had wished for was complete.
And that happiness had become the sturdiest prison of all.
In the deserted throne room, Seto stood quietly.
Kings, gods. Such things.
Before him there was no board and no pieces. And yet, certainly, the world Seto held in hand — the board — was always in motion.
Because there was a finest piece that went on choosing the best move by itself.
The first time he saw the dragon, he thought: this might be usable. It could become the optimal piece for accomplishing his aim. But that was as an alternative plan — the isolation of the King of the afterlife.
After observing for a while, the decisive blow came before long.
He stood always beside Atem, as though at his side. Without minding eyes, without hesitating, without hiding it, as though proudly. Above all, he had power, so that attitude could be called only natural.
When he saw the gaze that man turned on Atem, Seto was certain. What that one had was not mere attachment or rivalry.
Atem would not have noticed. That colour that gazed as though burning; that attachment which would not permit letting go.
It was love.
When Seto found it, a smile even surfaced in the depths of his chest.
Ah — this is good.
Could there be anything this convenient?
Not merely optimal; the finest, the supreme piece.
Not duty. Not obligation.
Purely as an individual desire, that one had wanted Atem.
And as though answering it, Atem too had begun to show the same bud.
No wonder; that one and Atem were of different types. A matter of compatibility — in matters of love, the pure cannot defeat the rational. By any estimate Atem would be won over.
Truly, convenience beyond anything.
To Seto the means to his aim had never mattered.
Love. Splendid, was it not.
"I see."
He murmured it low and lowered his eyes. He held back what nearly became actual laughter.
This will do. No — could there be more than this? This was exactly the optimal, the finest piece he had sought. If he could use it, the board could be greatly changed.
And the piece, if it wanted Atem, had no choice but to move exactly as Seto intended. Not merely the isolation of the King of the afterlife. To take him out of the afterlife, and there, to kill the god.
Their interests aligned. Arrange the environment, and the piece would exercise its finest function of its own accord.
On that board, he need only play a light move — working behind the scenes a little regarding the frequent visits, and no more.
What he had to do was wait for Atem to be entangled to a certain degree, and decide his move in advance for when the time came to take him out of the afterlife.
And that too required nothing Seto had to do directly. The finest piece would move on its own.
It had been so since he inherited the throne. The picture of the future drawn inside Seto no longer knew how to be wrong.
Without complete control, one mistaken interpretation, one mistaken operation, and the country might perish. Every day was a repetition of that judgement.
He had an eye for people. And for a situation.
That one's way of loving would be merciless. So if each wanted the other, the cage would assemble itself naturally.
Atem would be protected, unknowing, by iron bars named happiness.
By that powerful hand, by that unwavering, deep love.
Whether he would speak of love or show kindness, the means were unknown and of no interest. In Seto's head there was only the aim.
But it could be predicted that each of those movements would lead Atem into the cage and lay on a chain named happiness.
The negotiation with the goddess. Atem, made into simply a human woman.
That one had not chosen Atem because he was a man. Watching, there was no way not to know it.
But to Seto, if what Seto Kaiba held was love, then rationally speaking it was only natural to optimise that relationship and its surroundings.
Buds that might become obstacles are best plucked.
What mattered was that as a result Atem's wish be granted and a happy state be maintained.
A man and a woman in love; an utterly commonplace situation that anyone would accept without a second thought. Then that optimised board could be adjusted and made.
That one wouldn't care whether Atem was a man or a woman, so a woman was fine. And so, on an optimised board, let him exercise his abilities to the full.
Seto need only add the smallest adjustment, at any time.
Because with the finest piece, the board would arrange itself into a thoroughly natural form.
And now, that one too would be tightening the cage himself with pleasure and with love.
Seto twisted his mouth faintly. The usual thin smile.
Truly a good piece. There is nothing better.
Whether he was praising or confirming, it was clear even unspoken.
The piece was moving perfectly.
While being the finest piece, the piece itself did not know it. For now — no, that didn't matter; that one's perception was of no interest.
Without Atem or Seto Kaiba knowing, the cage went on growing more solid.
Seto had only to watch over it.
There was no need to lay a hand on it. The work had ended the moment he entrusted Atem to him.
It was slower than anticipated, so he had added the smallest move to the board: Atem does not understand romance. He would have moved on it immediately. That one was quick at his work.
That alone, and the rest assembled itself.
Seto really did only have to watch.
Because that finest piece would choose the best move and move perfectly, in all things.
Seto Kaiba pretended not to notice.
Even noticing, there was no rational reason to do anything about it.
But at some point, in the depths of his heart, he had certainly felt it.
That he too was being quietly moved as a finest piece.
Only, their interests aligned completely.
Appropriately, and choosing no means at all.
Besides, to Seto Kaiba as well, an accomplice's perception held neither interest nor meaning.
Because the aim was Atem. And Atem's freedom and happiness.
And so the cage Seto had designed — terrible and gentle — was completed.
Without anyone knowing, he took hold of everything, guided everything, filled everything with love and happiness.
That was Seto's design, and his joy.
Within the cage, happiness took shape beautifully, quietly, and surely.
He forced it on no one. There was no need to force it, since she would choose of her own accord; he had only to examine the options given in advance. He had only to lay out things that would show the same ending whichever option was taken.
Nor did he let it look as though he were operating anything. He only observed, quietly.
This happiness was not the product of Atem's will alone. But Seto didn't mind that.
Unbroken, without fear or doubt.
If Atem had a free and simply happy future, that was enough. To Seto that alone was the aim, and it was sufficient.
Seto Kaiba's skill and Atem's rapture alike were no more than one act of a stage perfectly designed by Seto, a state of the board.
By the hands of the two of them, the happiness is completed as a double cage.
Seto Kaiba. With affection and guidance, dropping Atem directly into a comfortable pleasure, letting her experience freedom and love, going on giving happiness without mercy.
Seto. Taking hold of the whole rationally, narrowing the options, indirectly controlling Atem's freedom, plucking the buds of divinity, and assembling happiness itself into the shape of a cage.
Within that cage, Atem will for all eternity feel freedom, be steeped in security, and go on being happy.
Despite that freedom being completely calculated and designed in a form from which there is no escape.
A beautiful, cold happiness bound by love.
The ultimate freedom granted to a boy who had been a king.
It was a doubly held cage of happiness, laid upon him.
