Three souls, one purpose, and only one of them says it out loud. In the garden, in the dining hall, in a corridor where no one else is watching, and finally across a tea table, Seto Kaiba and the priest who wore his face three thousand years ago take each other's measure.
Neither will move first in front of Atem. So the whole war is fought in glances, in the timing of a cup set down, in which of them is handed the first cup and why. Atem notices none of it, and is very happy.
By the end of the afternoon nothing has been decided. But a spark has been dropped, and the next move will split the road in two.
This is a translation of an original work on Pixiv.
Original Title: 05 策謀の剣戟
Original Author: 葉人(@Hathor_yuki)
Personal site: https://prideshipping.sakura.ne.jp
Encounter
Leaning against a stone pillar, Atem and Kaiba stood shoulder to shoulder, talking.
Kaiba spoke of events in the living world in a level voice, and Atem answered him, now and then with a smile that seemed to miss them.
There was no trace here of the two who had once crossed swords by the name of cards.
There was an air about them, in this calm hour, of lovers simply enjoying a quiet conversation.
Then a shadow fell at the far end of the garden.
Heavy footsteps pressing into the sand.
There was no voice, but Kaiba knew at once who had arrived.
He had raised his eyes long before Atem turned round.
"…The ancient ghost."
The voice spilled out of him naturally, low, with provocation in it.
What appeared was Seto.
Clad in blue, the gold of his ornament shining in the sunlight.
Toward Kaiba he made no attempt to conceal the majesty of the time when he had been king, and came on, pressing the sand underfoot. The figure he made seemed to exist across time itself.
Seto's eyes went first to Atem, and narrowed gently.
"My king. You were here."
In that voice were the respect of a subject of long standing, and an unshakable vow.
"Mm. Did I make you search, Seto?"
"No. You know that finding you is a simple matter for me."
The tone was mild. But it implied, obliquely, that they were two who had shared the same time. That alone carried provocation and warning enough.
The moment Atem looked away, Seto's gaze moved sharply to Kaiba.
A single brief glance, and between the two of them alone the air froze.
Kaiba, too, did not give a step, and went on standing beside Atem.
Seto laughed a little through his nose.
"…The modern-day whelp."
Seto's voice was quiet, but the sharp flame deep in his eyes showed the will to oppose.
Kaiba answered at once.
"Ancient ghost. Clinging to the past is not to my taste."
Atem looked from one to the other, bewildered, but the exchange did not stop.
"You of all men must know what I have gone on protecting. I would ask you not to speak of it lightly."
The country entrusted to him by Atem; Atem's wish, protected. Feeling, and vow.
He knew of it. But to Kaiba it was nothing but another man's memory.
"That is your affair. Atem is standing beside me now."
The words were few. Atem could not follow what they were talking about, but the two did not carry it any further.
And yet their lines of sight, the subtle rhythm of their breathing, the slight movements of shoulder and fingertip became invisible swords and sent a vibration through the garden.
Atem felt, for some reason, an urge to take a step back, but his feet would not move. Blocked by something in the air of the two of them that defied description, he swallowed his voice.
If he raised it here, instinct told him, he would be pulled into "something."
Both keeping their mouths shut, without even a smile, they looked at one another as though to pierce each other's eyes.
In front of Atem they could go no further.
In that instant that felt as though time had stopped, the spark, at least, had certainly been dropped.
Not a quarrel, and not a conversation.
Only the moment of collision that announced "the beginning of the battle."
The silence flowing through the garden was heavy with the smell of a tension sharper than a sword.
The Banquet
In the stillness of the afterlife, Atem, his eyes shining, was enjoying the things he liked that Kaiba had prepared, and tastes he did not know.
Seto, who had happened to pass, had been drawn in by Atem and was there as well.
"Mm… this is good too!"
The smiling face was filled with pure delight.
Behind him, Kaiba's and Seto's eyes crossed sharply.
Kaiba kept his hand near Atem's and calculated inwardly. So you mean to rely on the advantage of ground in the afterlife. Naive.
Seto, for his part, only smiled on the surface, while deep in his eyes he laid cold plans. Do not imagine that memories of the living world alone can bind a heart.
No words were exchanged. Each checked the other with minute gestures and glances.
In front of Atem there would be no direct collision.
And because both knew that a clumsy opening attack would only get their own footing swept from under them.
But the fine calibration of distance, the way a dish was held out, the slight pressure of a touching fingertip.
All of it became stage machinery for a psychological battle, and their manoeuvring threw off sparks, quietly and fiercely.
"My king. This one."
Seto held out to Atem a dish with ta'meya on it.
"Thank you. Come to think of it, you both like beef, don't you."
Seto's expression stiffened for an instant.
Atem set a dish of beef fillet in foie gras sauce in front of Seto.
It had a different aspect from his usual beef steak, but Seto put it in his mouth.
"Well, Seto?"
"…It is good."
"The same verdict after all."
It was plain that he rated it very highly inwardly, but at Seto's thin reaction Kaiba murmured:
"Shall I have some deep-fried white fish prepared for you."
"As you please."
Atem soaked in the mildness of it, in the taste, in the happiness.
"Maybe your birthdays are the same, even."
Without a word Kaiba worked a display and checked.
Kaiba's expression stiffened. Seto understood from that. Atem made a puzzled face.
"Kaiba?"
"The ninth day of the fourth month of Inundation. Converted to the modern calendar, the twenty-fifth of October. Exactly as you read it."
Kaiba stated the fact and nothing else, flatly.
Atem laughed harder, but Kaiba's and Seto's eyes met for an instant and slid apart.
Without noticing the sparks behind him, Atem simply received the taste and the warmth.
Kaiba hardened his resolve inwardly. I will let no one take any of it. The happiness, the memory, Atem's feelings.
Seto, too, quietly resolved. I have the advantage of ground; using this afterlife, I will place him under my influence for certain.
The air of the afterlife was quiet, but deep in the hearts of the two of them the sparks went on flying.
The quiet, violent battle Atem could not see had already opened.
By Chance
What echoed off the cold stone wall was only the faint sound of cloth.
Standing there were Seto and Kaiba.
Neither had any intention of meeting the other. But chance is a mischievous thing, and at last they had run into each other.
Furthermore, there was no one else in sight.
Neither could ignore the other's existence where Atem was concerned, and before words could be laid down, an exchange like the clashing of swords had already begun with looks alone.
Seto pierced Kaiba with deep blue eyes.
Those eyes held the resolve of one who had gone on protecting the throne; not a mere priest, not a mere successor, but a presence carrying blood and vow on its back.
Kaiba glared back with eyes of exactly the same colour, and did not give a step. He raised his chin slightly and wore a cold, icelike smile.
It was Kaiba who spoke first.
"The incarnation of occult merchandise."
"I hear from my king that you treated those things under such a heading, while carrying my memory."
Seto made no attempt to hide how close he stood to Atem in the afterlife.
"I have no need of anything in such appalling taste."
"It was to protect my king and obtain victory. And even so — you appear to have guided him well. In the matter of waking my king to strength, you are the child of a later life who worked best of all."
At the open provocation, Kaiba laughed through his nose.
"Did you imagine you were directing me by interference of memory. Unfortunately, I lent no hand at all."
"Is that so, I wonder. My king was in your care, I am told. Faced with my memory, in the end there is no choice but to protect."
Seto smiled faintly, as if to say it was he who held control.
"Protect, you say?"
"I am one who protects. As I have been, and as I shall be."
"If you exist to protect the king, then I exist to make Atem live."
Seto's mouth twisted slightly.
"Make him live? Do you intend to cover your own appetite with that word?"
The voice fell low and cold.
Kaiba, too, raised the corner of his mouth.
"What I want is not merely a king. It is Atem. What you are capable of stops at protecting. The one with the resolve to take him is me."
"Force will not hold for long."
"Rest easy. I'll finish it soon."
For an instant the air drew tight.
Seto's fingertips went unconsciously to the hilt of a dagger, and Kaiba touched the gun in his breast pocket.
To fight each other with the power of the Millennium Items, each was too poor a match for the other. Where to aim: unconsciously, each read the other's mind.
For Seto this was familiar ground, and he read the target as the legs in an instant. Naive, said the thin smile at his mouth.
Kaiba was not accustomed to it, but with the weapon he had chosen he would not lose either. The target he read, though, was a single thrust to the heart.
It was as though invisible lightning ran through the stillness of the afterlife.
At that moment, footsteps approaching from behind.
At the sense of Atem, both let their eyes slide across at once.
Seto took his hand from the sword, and Kaiba composed his face.
But deep in each man's eyes, the sparks went on flying.
The Tea Ceremony
By Atem's arrangement, the three of them — Atem, Kaiba and Seto — came to sit around one table.
He had wanted to bring together souls with a bond between them, souls that shared the same purpose.
The two of them did indeed share the same purpose. To obtain Atem. Precisely the same.
But the instant Atem left his seat, what remained were Kaiba and Seto.
The doors of the hall closed quietly.
"…Well then. Now that my king is gone, let us talk a little. Modern-day whelp."
Seto's voice was mild, and carried an edge.
Kaiba let a faint smile show at his eyes.
"It's a good hour for quiet thought. So be silent, ancient ghost. I have nothing to discuss with you."
Between the words, the weight of each man's presence collided.
Thoroughness and force of breakthrough, execution and invention, reason and reason.
Each tested the weapons the other carried, using nothing but words and looks.
"The ancient ghost, is it. When it is only through my existence that you could meet my king at all. What a thing to be told."
"In fact, you are a stone tablet now. A relic of the past."
The air of the hall was being pared away by the words of the two of them.
"Across a vast span of time, I have walked with my king's soul. Do you understand the weight of that, modern-day whelp."
Seto's voice was dry as a desert wind, and it bored quietly into Kaiba.
Kaiba did not move so much as a shoulder, and returned it with a cold smile in his voice.
"If it is only a matter of clinging to the past to keep one's pride, a dog could manage it. What supports Atem is the power to win through the present."
A slight irritation crossed Seto's face.
His eyes narrowed, and into his words came the breadth of one who had once been king.
"Power, is it. Foolish. Victory is not eternal. What is required of the one who stands at the king's side is a vow that does not waver across time. Talent as momentary as yours is no more than a mirage in the desert."
Kaiba's smile thinned into a blade. Even the gesture of turning the teacup in his fingers became a provocation.
"A vow? Even without my binding him with words, Atem is with me. It is no business of an ancient ghost to comment."
Seto's voice dropped low. The coldness of the question filled the hall.
"Oh? Then let me ask. Why did my king exchange a vow of not changing with you? Is it not proof that my king himself understood your power alone was not enough to be easy about?"
Kaiba left a slight smile at his mouth. His voice was quiet, but flat with certainty.
"No. You are wrong. To me, that was a declaration of victory. Atem does not change. However thoroughly you lay your groundwork, the one he chooses at the end is me. Withdraw gracefully while you still can."
Seto narrowed his eyes and answered without a smile.
"…That arrogance will break you in time. But very well. Until the moment you shatter, I shall not leave my king's side. The one who remains at the end is me."
The words of the two of them fell to the floor like a Duel with no answer.
There was no sound from the corridor outside. Atem had not yet come back.
The sweet scent of confectionery and fruit was certainly drifting there, but it was far too powerless against this air.
"And what can you do, merely by not leaving."
"I shall only go on protecting my king."
"How do you intend to protect him. Atem will slip through those hands sooner or later."
Seto's gaze sharpened.
"How I rebuilt the country entrusted to me by my king — you know it, surely. I wove the collapsed order together again and led the people. I shed blood and I kept their pride. That is what protecting means."
Kaiba smiled thinly and set the teacup down on the table without a sound.
"Making a shield of past achievements is the stock phrase of the old soldier. I am building the future. Take the empire of cards alone. With these hands, what no one has ever accomplished, in this very moment as well. What Atem needs is not a teller of tales about the past. It is someone who stands shoulder to shoulder with him in this present moment."
Seto's brow moved slightly, and a quiet voice came back.
"Shoulder to shoulder, is it. The road you and my king have walked is itself no more than a mirage. The glory of the living world vanishes the moment it is swallowed by the sands of time."
Kaiba cut the words apart from directly in front.
"Then watch and see. Mirage or not, the view Atem wishes for is one I will build. Surpassing the past that you built."
The exchange was cold and heavy, and it pared the hall away.
Kaiba and Seto, the presence of each of them, became sparks and cut the air.
Seto's eyes narrowed, and a chill fell through the hall.
This time, if either of them laid down one more word, words would no longer be the end of it.
At last footsteps approached from far off, and the thread of tension broke.
Atem came back with a light step.
"Sorry to keep you. Now then, where were we."
The instant Atem lowered himself into his chair, the air of the hall turned astonishingly mild.
The two who had been glaring at each other a moment ago poured hot water for one another as though nothing had happened.
Kaiba spoke in a voice with the inflection held down.
"This tea is not bad. It's a taste that doesn't exist in the living world."
"The afterlife has a richness of its own."
Seto nodded as well, and smiled faintly.
"Modern sweets are quite good in their way. Which does my king like best?"
"This chocolate. Though in fact I like everything set out here."
Watching the exchange, Atem smiled with something like relief.
"I'm glad the two of you seem to get on."
But.
Deep behind the two gazes fixed on that smile, the sparks were still flying.
Neither giving a step, each had his mask fastened on to perfection.
Atem picked up a teacup with a smile and said, lightly:
"A new one came in today. Which shall we have next?"
Atem's eyes went naturally to Kaiba.
"Kaiba first, then. You're the one who gave me the taste of this world."
Kaiba only smiled slightly, and took the cup without so much as a nod.
That wordless assent was, to Atem, simply the order of things.
But the gaze of Seto, watching that movement, was cold.
Seto did not change his expression in the slightest; he composed the hand that held the cup, evenly, and gave his thanks. And yet a clear superiority seeped through it.
"You chose well, modern-day whelp."
The calculation and the ease contained in that short line struck Kaiba as a fierce warning.
One line only, but deep in the voice lay the pride of a man certain that he was the one worthy of standing at the king's side, and a subtle provocation aimed at Kaiba.
Kaiba was unshaken.
But he attended even to the fingertips that carried the cup to his mouth, reading each of Seto's glances.
And inwardly, he enjoyed the faint manoeuvring.
This ancient ghost with his air of superiority could be held down in silence, without recourse to words.
With his arms, his posture, the timing of setting a cup down alone, he would demonstrate who was in control.
Atem, without noticing the fine exchange between the two of them, simply laughed.
"Right. Let's all taste it together."
Behind that smile, Kaiba and Seto glanced at each other's eyes to confirm.
Without words, with looks and silence alone, they threw off sparks and looked away.
Kaiba carried his tea to his mouth in silence, and turned his eyes very slightly toward Seto.
At that moment, within the silence, the balance of power became marginally clearer than before.
Instead of returning the look, Seto moved an eyebrow a fraction and tilted his tea quietly, as though returning the provocation.
There were no words. But inside each man's heart, the small victories and defeats of superiority and manoeuvring swung back and forth like a pendulum.
The hall held the sweet scent of tea and the presence of an unspoken battle at one and the same time.
The road splits here.
Chapter 6 exists in two versions. They are alternatives, not a sequence — read either, or both, in any order.
6a — Seizing the Trump Card. The story ends there.
6b — The Net of Time. Continues into Chapter 7, and then into one of three endings.
Neither branch is the "true" one.
