Waking up is the cruel part.
Atem is out of the cage, and what he mostly feels about that is anger — at losing something warm, at not having been able to hold it himself, and at the man who broke it, who keeps turning up and refusing to apologise for any of it. Kaiba's position is that Atem should hate him as much as he likes, and then get up.
What Atem cannot do is throw anything away. He never could. So the question becomes whether there is a way to stand on your own feet while still carrying every single thing you were told to drop.
This is a translation of an original work on Pixiv.
Original Title: 08a REAL
Original Author: 葉人(@Hathor_yuki)
Personal site: https://prideshipping.sakura.ne.jp
Kaiba let out a sharp breath deep in his chest.
It seemed he had been dreaming.
Every time he woke, Atem felt the sweet afterglow of the dream still on his skin.
As his consciousness surfaced, an impatience and an anger whose source he could not locate crossed each other deep in his chest.
The mornings had been a warm, gentle place.
But that was lost.
"Why did I—"
A question meant for no one to hear, which would not become words. He did not even know what it was he wanted to ask. Atem twisted his hands into the bedcover.
Kaiba visits the afterlife, visits Atem's side, as always.
As an extension from the living world; at times as one who confronts him, and as one who exists beside him.
And after he chose Seto, as one who shakes him awake.
Kaiba caught Atem's gaze quietly, but with a certain force.
"You woke from the dream because it was necessary."
The words are short, but they stick sharply deep in his chest.
Atem, still gripping the bedcover, drew his brows together a little. His eyes sharpened, and yet somehow looked sorrowful as well.
In that heart were anger, confusion, and certainly an afterglow still bound by the sweetness of the dream.
"A dream, is it."
A delicious reality. A calm daily round. Those lost things, Kaiba says, were a dream.
Kaiba takes a step closer and puts a hand on Atem's shoulder. Warmth, and weight, carry through.
"It was necessary in order for me to protect you."
"To protect me…?"
The questioning voice comes out hoarse. But deep in his chest there was already a part of him that felt Kaiba's intention.
From time to time Atem came to show a melancholy expression.
That he was thinking of the dream again was obvious.
The eyes of Kaiba, standing quietly, saw through everything.
"Are you still caught in it."
"No. I just remember it now and then."
Atem makes a face as though missing it, but Kaiba's expression does not change.
"That sort of dream is over now."
The words are soft, but there was a pressure like a sharp blade running down his spine.
That pressure was both a reassurance and a stimulus that invited resistance.
"I—"
Along with the thought that he could have gone on being happy if he had never noticed, he now had the awareness that he had been dependent.
He had been able to come back to his senses out of the sweetness inside the dream.
But because of that, he even feels confusion, anger, resentment.
The inward question of why he had had to wake from the dream at all. It had been so warm — why.
He understands that he has to weigh the sense of loss against the sense of responsibility. He understands, too, that responsibility has to be the heavier.
What he lost brought confusion with it.
The fog like vertigo has cleared.
Because he was pulled back out of Seto's delicious cage, and Atem took himself back.
But together with that relief, what burns his chest is anger, and feelings he cannot put into words.
"Why did you wake me from the dream… Why did you—"
The voice let fall was hoarse, and trembling.
"Because it was necessary."
Kaiba repeats the same words.
He had not wanted to lose that warmth, that sensation of being protected, ever.
But one side of his woken head knew, too, that things could not have gone on as they were.
That delicious world. The one who cut it off by force is the man in front of him. Kaiba stands as ever, unwavering, cold and strong.
Resentment. Even a feeling like that shows its face, from the bottom of his heart.
But at the same time, the resentment was proof. That he had certainly come back to his senses.
He thinks he did not want it broken. If that is how he loves, he wishes he had been left in the dream.
"That's how he loves, isn't it?"
He thinks he had not needed saving. If it was dominion, he ought to have been able to throw it off by himself.
"I didn't need to be helped."
If it was a dream, then it is a thing that must wake at some point.
Even if the one who was caught in it was not himself.
"But… I—"
Words to fling at Kaiba. This is taking it out on him. That, too, he understood.
Chagrin and anger, and a very little relief. All of it tangled together, and Atem simply clenched his fists.
As though answering that gaze, Kaiba lets fly. Wearing a smile, even.
"Then hate me to your heart's content. By your own account, what lies beyond that?"
At the end of hatred there is no true victory.
Those were words Atem had said to Kaiba in the past. The end of hatred is nothing.
The words bounce back on him and gouge at his heart.
But.
The feelings whirling in Atem's chest changed, behind the anger, into a faintly trembling flame.
As a certain strength, with which to strike at the man in front of him.
"I admit that it was a dream. But it was certainly a warm place. A place you broke."
Kaiba reads Atem's breathing, and catches even the faint trembling of his fingertips.
"Trembling with anger, that gaze with resentment lodged in it — not bad. Bare your fangs. That is precisely what you are."
He brings his mouth quietly to Atem's ear.
"And still, stand before me."
At those words whispered low, Atem's heart clenched tight.
"Even without being protected by you, I—"
Fighting was something he ought to have accomplished himself. Why did he have to be helped. Out of a wavering heart, even humiliation shows its face.
Kaiba watched steadily at an Atem whose eyes were unsteady with feelings that threatened to burst out.
To Kaiba, colliding with Atem was a foregone harmony.
And a collision was nothing to be afraid of.
That sort of thing had been there constantly since Atem was in the living world. He is not merely a tidy rival.
Atem, too, precisely because it is Kaiba, cannot hold back or go easy. Covered over by anger though it is, that was a certain trust, and a certain leaning as well.
"Hate me, resent me. Nothing of that sort works on me."
Splitting his pressed-shut lips, konpeitō was pushed in.
The sweetness and the familiarity spreading through his mouth. He had always been fed this way.
If he is trying to fob him off with this sort of thing, it is wasted. Atem crushed the konpeitō between his teeth.
Deep in his confused heart, a delicious fear buds. Why can he see through him so completely.
He hesitated even to put it into a voice.
Kaiba does not answer the voice of Atem's heart; with his eyes alone he draws him on, and leads him.
Fingertips touch. At the sensation, cold and warm mixed together, Atem caught his breath.
The temperature of the touching hand, the way it touches — it is different from the familiar sensation.
Atem lowered his eyes sorrowfully.
He remembers. Whatever he does, he cannot throw it away.
"If you say that was a dream, then the dream was a salvation as a dream."
Assert that as he might, Kaiba only cut it down from directly in front.
"The one who didn't protect it was you. You let it be broken by me, and you mean to tell me it had value?"
"I never said things could stay as they were. But it was certainly warm."
"Then why could you not protect it to the end. If it were something you truly meant to protect, no one could have broken it."
Kaiba, too, holds nothing back where Atem is concerned. Those words are merciless, and they strike the chest.
They hit Atem's pride directly, and at the same time they were words that spurred him on: you can still fight.
Atem fell silent, and inwardly had no choice but to admit the self that had been dependent. He had admitted it from the start.
The anger, the resentment, the sadness. All of it was the price of freedom.
"I have no use for a gutless man who clings to a delicious dream and takes his ease under someone's protection. Rather than let you be held by a fantasy like that, I'll crush it with everything I have."
Kaiba laughs boldly, as ever. The same as ever, exactly as usual.
Atem understands the situation as well. But the resistance welling up in him will not go away.
He understands, and cannot square it.
"If you meant to crush it and be done, why didn't you."
"Whether it ends or not is up to you. I told you, didn't I. You needn't accept it. Understand it."
As though seeing through Atem's conflict, Kaiba puts out an arm and touches his cheek.
Kaiba pushed one more konpeitō into Atem's mouth, and went back to the living world.
This time, he did not crush it.
"I have to stand as myself. I understand that."
In the room alone, Atem murmurs.
The resolve, the responsibility, the price paid by one who has gained freedom.
Kaiba was always beside him.
That whether it ends or not is up to Atem.
What meaning is put into that, Atem is no longer a man who cannot tell.
He takes that meaning out and touches it, one piece at a time. Each time he touches it, his chest hurt.
"Am I going to be thrown away?"
To the murmured voice, there is no answer.
The feelings he has to throw away weigh down on him.
Kaiba, who came without leaving an interval, saw an Atem still in the midst of worrying, and inwardly let out a sigh of exasperation.
Cut away what is not needed. That was Kaiba's way.
And he understood, too, that where that difference of values was concerned, the gap would not be filled. Raise it and it would only develop into an argument, as in the old days, and nothing would change.
Even that collision he could control now, but it was not a thing that was needed at present.
"Have you understood?"
"I can't accept it. That I have to throw it away — I understand that. But I can't throw it away."
Once, he had lost his memories, and even his own name.
Whether it was feeling or unease, throwing memory away was something Atem could not do.
What gets thrown away may not be the feeling but himself. Even understanding how Kaiba felt, the possibility shakes his heart.
He is at a distance where putting out a hand would reach, but Atem felt that giving himself over was still not permitted, not yet.
Unless he stood alone, unless he came back to where he could face him, unless he threw these worries away, he felt he had no right to it.
"That troublesome head of yours, as ever."
"I'm not like you. I can't throw everything away."
Kaiba kept his arms folded, let out a breath and looked at Atem. In it were the colours of resignation and of tenderness.
"Take it all on if you like. A bad habit, I'd say. It's inefficient."
Take it on.
"It may well be inefficient."
Carry it.
Then there is no need to throw anything away by force.
If he carries them with him, then both the fact that it was warm and his responsibility as king can stand together.
It is inefficient. But as Atem's way of doing things, that suited his nature better.
He has been led again. There is chagrin in it, but no resentment and no anger any more.
"But it must be that this is my way."
Admit the conflict and the dependency. And on top of that, stand alone.
To carry everything. That was Atem's weak point, and also his strength.
The resolve to live freely by his own choice. His own choice — which is to say, the resolve to choose to accept.
"I'll do it my way."
Kaiba did not let past the gaze with which Atem declared it, strongly.
In those eyes were mixed an unwavering will and the very smallest fragility.
It was the usual Atem that Kaiba knew.
"That will do. Whatever you carry, that is your freedom."
"Right. My freedom."
Kaiba slowly put out a hand toward Atem. He stops it at a distance near touching and not touching.
"Atem…"
He looked straight at him and locked their gazes together.
"…If you have it in you, confirm it once more in my arms."
Kaiba's voice is low and unwavering, and yet it carries a sweetness somewhere.
At that tone Atem's eyes wavered for an instant, and he felt the depths of his body take on heat.
A road chosen freely, by his own will. And trust on top of that.
It presses at his chest now.
He felt it as real.
That by his own choice he can stand freely, and by his own intention give himself over to this man.
Atem quietly put out his fingers and touched the offered hand.
For a while they gaze at each other without words.
Kaiba's fingertips grip Atem's hand faintly.
At that sensation, tension and relief mix inside Atem.
Without exchanging words, each one's intention carried across.
The moment Kaiba's fingertips touched Atem's throat, a sensation like a current ran shivering through his whole body.
"Afraid?"
"…A little."
He answers honestly. His voice trembles, but his eyes do not turn away at all.
Kaiba gazed at Atem as though crushing down a smile.
And slowly he closes the distance. But in that look, heat and will lay hidden.
He brings his lips near. Their breathing mingles, and temperature carries across.
Atem draws a light breath and closes his eyes.
Lips meet.
At first it was a short kiss, as though confirming something, but at once Kaiba's heat enfolds Atem, and inside his mouth their tongues twine.
The consciousness that would resist, and the fear, are dissolved by a sweet pleasure and relief, and Atem could only answer naturally.
"Stay afraid, if you like. I'll receive all of you."
Kaiba's voice was low, and yet it rang softly, and set the whole of Atem trembling.
Held tight, at the missed temperature, he let out a small breath.
"Kaiba…"
"This time I've caught you."
The low but powerful whisper rings directly in Atem's chest.
Atem let out a breath and laid his lips over Kaiba's, faintly. It was short, and certainly sweet, and a contact that seemed to invite.
In his arms he feels a warm body with weight to it. The fingers of one hand twine gently into hair. Breath overlaps, and each other's body heat carries through the skin.
"You know that you can't run, don't you?"
Kaiba's voice is low, but there is no fierceness in it. As though simply stating a fact, quietly and certainly, it enfolds Atem. It gives him no room even to refuse.
Atem nodded slightly, and neither swept along nor unable to resist, for the first time he gave himself over completely by his own will.
Fingertips stroke his cheek, follow his throat, slip in at the hem and trace his back.
Atem arches his body like a bow in spite of himself, but at once is drawn to the heat of that palm and the sensation of being touched.
His breath catches, his heartbeat quickens. It was as though every nerve were concentrated on Kaiba.
Kaiba's arm goes round his back and draws him in hard. The strength of that arm is great, and yet there is no pain in it; it gave safety and heat at the same time.
Atem's hands, too, touch Kaiba's shoulder and chest naturally, and their bodies wanted each other.
Hands and lips, each single finger touches with certainty, searching each other, confirming each other.
The heartbeat carrying through his fingertips. The warmth of skin. The feelings he had held down overflow all at once.
Atem, who had put out a hand toward Kaiba's belt, drew that hand back as though catching himself.
Kaiba noticed the movement at once. He narrows his eyes and touches his lips with a fingertip.
"…You appear to have learned remarkably well."
The low, resonant voice neither sneers nor reproves. It merely points out a fact, flatly.
But in Atem's chest the heat spread all at once.
"That's—"
"No matter. I'll paint over all of it."
The low whisper rings hot at his ear.
Atem trembled slightly, and gently embraced his own painted-over body.
Seeing him like that, Kaiba whispers quietly at his ear.
"There's nothing to be afraid of."
When he lifts his face, their breathing tangles.
Kaiba's gaze follows even the faintest reactions of Atem's hands and lips.
Atem gives his body over by his own will, and even so, the habits and the manners he was taught cannot help showing through.
Each time Kaiba noticed one of those faint traces, a slight smile came to his lips.
"Not amusing… no. Amusing."
Before he could understand the meaning of the words, Kaiba put a hand on Atem's shoulder and checked his movement lightly with his fingertips.
"Rest easy. Everything I can teach you, I'll paint over here."
Each time those fingertips touched Atem's skin, a stimulus both sweet and fierce ran through him.
Atem resists a little, but it melts, by degrees, inside Kaiba's palm.
"Lay out everything of the you of now, honestly, in front of me."
At a heat like a fire lit from the core of his body, reason melts away.
When Kaiba confirms the softness of his skin, Atem's body returns a sensitive reaction.
The heated way of touching is gentle, and yet certainly gives pleasure, and binds Atem's heart and body to Kaiba.
Atem twists in his arms, but at once entrusts himself to Kaiba's chest and trembled sweetly.
"That's right."
Kaiba's voice reaches his ear, and his whole body is wrapped in heat a degree further.
What fills the night of the afterlife is heartbeat, breathing, and body heat twining together.
Only each other occupies their consciousness.
In a space belonging to the two of them alone, pleasure and tension twine, and a desire long shut away is released.
Atem's heart trembles, and pleasure and a delicious dominion and affection alone shaped that space.
There is no room left to try to escape, and what remains is only the comfort of entrusting himself, and the relief that comes of trust.
And Atem tasted, for the first time in the true sense, the sensation of giving himself over to Kaiba by his own will.
Old habits, accumulated experience, all of it overturned by the palm of Kaiba's hand.
That act stood upon a trust and a safety with nothing to fault in them.
"Do you understand? …Your past, your experience — in front of me they are powerless."
Kaiba's whisper is sweet, and yet accompanied by a firm dominion. Atem lowered his eyes and could only nod, small, deep in his chest.
Giving himself over, held gently. It became a dense stretch of time, delicious, and gentle, with fear and safety mixed together.
Atem is weak to pleasure. To dominate him completely would be easy enough for Kaiba. Paint the body over, and make it so that he cannot be without him.
But Kaiba's aim now was not physical pleasure; it was a reboot of the mind.
So that Atem would melt not from pleasure but from relief, he touches him sweetly.
It was a night of confirming each other's existence with body and with heart, and carving the bond of a soul woken again deep into him.
The night becomes a space for the two of them alone, and only breath and faint voices sound.
In the cold, quiet darkness of the afterlife, a long-closed craving comes loose, and only the existence of the two of them remained, as certain reality.
The curtain of night still low; warmth and stillness remaining in the room.
Outside the window the light of daybreak comes in by degrees, and a pale gold fills the room.
Wrapped in Kaiba's arms, Atem was filled from the very bottom of his heart.
"The night is over. It's a new day."
Along with a small breath, their gazes cross.
Hesitation and regret are all of them things of the past. From today, the time of the two of them begins.
"I'll make an end of it. I won't hesitate any more. The past, the future, I'll carry all of it with me. …So — begin again from here, with me."
Atem's gaze, holding a strong will. There was the sound of a line that ought to have been cut coming together into one again.
Kaiba catches his breath. Deep in his chest tightens, and his heartbeat leaps. To be looked at by him this steadily, without wavering.
He is made to know again that it was an Atem this strong that he had been waiting for all along.
A smile comes to his mouth.
Every piece of manoeuvring, every scheme, and the fierce nights of the past, all fall still as though they had lost their meaning.
In front of him is one man only, and only the man he had wanted.
Atem's eyes do not waver, and are transparent to the bottom of his heart.
At his own figure reflected in those eyes, Kaiba grew certain. This is what he had wanted all along.
"I have been waiting all this while."
Kaiba lets the words fall, like a breath.
The heat whirling deep in his chest: not something to be taken, but a certain, real sense of something he does not want to let go of.
As though the whole of that long, heavy stretch of time had converged on this moment, it wrapped the two of them sweetly.
So it is, after all. What he had wanted was these eyes, this strength.
As though letting the voice inside him out just as it was, Kaiba pierces Atem with his gaze.
Certain that he had taken back a rival who had thrown his hesitation away, he is wrapped in the very smallest silence.
In a space where heat and composure cross, Atem's breathing, and even the trembling deep in his heart, he feels all of it certainly.
That alone is enough. Without words and without motion, this moment of simply acknowledging each other's existence would be the proof that they stand together from here on, Kaiba thought quietly.
Deep in the eyes that reflect each other, the only thing there: REAL
This is one of three endings.
The others are 8b — DREAM and 8c — IDEAL, both branching from the same point in Chapter 7. They are alternatives to each other; none of them is the "true" one.
