They are trying, and it is going well.
Nobody is being manipulated now. There are tea ceremonies in the hall — living-world black tea, fruit, a room dressed up as a coffee house by Solid Vision — and Atem talks, and Seto listens without cutting him off, and each time it gets a little easier. Seto has stopped saying mine. Atem chooses, out loud, and means it.
That is the daytime. The nights are a separate country, and neither of them has yet found a way to make the two agree.
This is a translation of an original work on Pixiv.
Original Title: 08b DREAM
Original Author: 葉人(@Hathor_yuki)
Personal site: https://prideshipping.sakura.ne.jp
Atem's heart was still wavering in the afterglow of the fighting.
A state in which he had recovered neither sanity nor independence. To set about dominating him again would be easy enough.
Only, whichever way they walked from here, the relationship had to be built again from nothing.
And so what was proposed was a tea ceremony.
The content was, like that tea ceremony once before, simply to talk in the hall while enjoying tea and confectionery.
The place set for the tea ceremony in the hall.
That day Atem took his seat with a slightly tense look.
"In the living world you'd do this at a sa-ten, but here will do, won't it."
Atem picks up a piece of fruit.
"A sa-ten, is it."
A sa-ten is a rather old-fashioned way of saying coffee house in the living world.
Seto, who had carried out an investigation of the living world while the modernisation was under way, had a sense of these things that was, if anything, already close to Kaiba's.
This may require "education," he thought, and let out a small breath.
"A sa-ten…"
"Do you want to go that badly? In that case perhaps I should build one after all. A sa-ten."
"Please refrain. It is not a thing for a king to do."
Seto inserts it without a moment's delay.
A private enterprise would be one thing, but he could not have the king doing it.
At the pressure from Seto, Atem stopped the hand he had put out toward the fruit.
"Ah… right. I'll leave it."
Because Atem had modelled it on a sa-ten of the living world, what was laid out was living-world tea and living-world confectionery. The teacups and the rest were living-world things as well.
Somewhere in his heart Atem felt the boundary between the real and the unreal waver. The hand holding the teacup trembles faintly.
"The modern-day whelp sends through even teacups, I see."
Seto confirms the rim of the thin ceramic vessel with his fingertips.
"I asked him to. Said I wanted a taste of the mood of a sa-ten."
"And hence this setting."
The hall had the aspect of somewhere one had wandered into in a foreign country.
This setting, so ill-suited to the afterlife, was the work of Solid Vision.
It can now be seen everywhere, in the palace and in the streets.
Because rendering Atem's figure as a three-dimensional image had been forbidden, that cannot be seen, but most things can be projected.
Outrageous technology.
With this alone one could win a war, Seto thought.
But in fact it had been configured by Kaiba so that military use was impossible.
"You've been watching our fights. Nothing to be surprised at now, surely."
"Fights… quite so."
To Seto's eyes, the fighting between Kaiba and Atem looked like nothing but two men genuinely trying to force each other down.
They provoke and they abuse. And both Kaiba and Atem become extremely foul-mouthed. Their eyes, too, do not gaze; they glare.
That is in fact the case, and precisely for that reason, where the love had got mixed in was beyond his comprehension.
"Remarkably spirited fights."
"Kaiba and I have always been like that."
"Is that so."
And how is it with Seto, Atem considers.
The faint wariness and confusion visible deep in Atem's eyes, Seto did not fail to read.
"There is nothing to fear. Can you imagine my doing you harm?"
Seto's words were soft, but deep in his gaze lodged a quiet heat.
"No. You were always one who protects."
The reverberation of the battle, leaving a sweet, uneasy air, quietly wraps the hall.
Another day; the hall was filled again with the smell of tea and confectionery.
Atem looked a little calmer than the time before, but even so, the depths of his heart are wavering. The teacup in his hand carries a faint heat, and tension runs through his fingertips.
"Today, along with the living world's black tea, I've added the fruit I like."
Atem's voice is mild, with a faint smile contained in it.
"Fruit… is it. You are fond of them."
Seto narrows his eyes gently.
But deep in Atem's eyes, the shadow of wariness still remains.
Seto did not let his words break off; he continued, as though searching out Atem's condition.
"It is quite enough for us simply to talk like this. There is no need to fight."
But behind that mildness a firm intention lay hidden. Atem senses it, and deep in his heart wavers faintly.
"…No need… to fight…"
Atem's voice was small, seeming to question, and at the same time seeming to tell it to himself.
"Yes. I am not so severe as the modern-day whelp."
Seto's gaze is soft. But a quiet, deep heat lurks in it, and it tightens slowly around Atem's heart.
Atem lets out a small breath and puts the teacup to his mouth. Warm tea spreads through his mouth, and the strength goes out of his shoulders in spite of himself.
But he noticed, too, that mixed into that warmth was a tension different from before.
"My king… there is something in your eyes."
"In my eyes?"
Seto tilts his head faintly and answers gently.
"When your gaze looks at me, there is a force in it that presses quietly."
Atem drops his eyes a little.
Seto held down his smile, and quietly held out in front of Atem a cake with fruit on it.
"There is nothing to be afraid of. I shall do you no harm."
At that one line alone, safety and unease mix together in Atem's chest. Hot, sweet, and yet somehow terrible.
Atem lifts his face quietly and looks into Seto's eyes.
"Am I… to be protected again?"
"Yes. But that is for you to choose."
At that voice, Atem's eyes waver slightly. The choice is still in his own hands. In the moment he feels it, his chest beats hard.
The air of the hall was quiet, and yet carried a tension of great density.
The scent of tea, the sweetness of fruit, and each other's gaze.
All of it mixed together and made a stretch of time that was neither of the living world nor of the afterlife: somehow like a dream.
Atem lets a small smile escape.
"…Next time, shall we try listening to my story instead?"
"Of course. I am waiting for your voice."
There was a quiet gentleness in Seto's voice, and its heat permeates Atem's heart by degrees.
In that moment, Atem understood at last.
The safety of standing by his own will, and of being able to choose by his own will. And a fear somewhere delicious. That this, precisely, was the tea ceremony of reconstruction.
The hall was filled, as before, with the scent of fruit and black tea.
Atem sits down more calmly than the time before. Cupping the teacup in both hands, even so his gaze follows Seto's face naturally.
"Today I've brought in a few baked sweets from the living world."
At Atem's words Seto smiles slightly.
"I see… there is more colour than last time."
Seto looks about him and nods lightly. And then he laughed a little.
"Your expression has grown a little softer. There is no chance of my missing it."
"…I still can't let my guard down, though."
Into Atem's voice a little margin is mixed. He is aware of holding himself better than the time before.
Conscious of that faint wariness, Seto quietly held out a hand in front of him.
"There is no need to be afraid. I simply wish to hear you talk."
He knows that hand is one that carries a soft warmth.
Atem's hand hesitates for an instant, but before long it was laid quietly over it.
"…Seto."
Atem's voice was small, but carried resolve.
As though confirming deep in his chest that he had chosen to lay his hand there himself.
"Then today, let me hear what you were unable to say last time."
"Right…"
Atem draws a deep breath and puts his words in order. Things of the past, his hesitation, and the road he wants to walk from here. Little by little he speaks them.
Seto nods in silence, and hears him out without cutting his words off.
"Your feelings — all of them, I shall receive."
At the warmth of that voice, Atem trembles small deep in his chest, and relief and sweetness mix together.
A quiet, settled stretch of time flows through the hall.
It was the moment when the trust born in the tea ceremonies so far became, little by little, a certain thing.
And each of them was sensing that in the other's looks and gestures, though neither said it aloud, a "coming closer" was being born.
"…Next time it looks as though we'll be able to talk about more."
In Atem's voice there was a seeping-through of the will to build the relationship himself.
"Yes. I look forward to it as well."
Seto's smile carried a quiet, certain heat.
The tea ceremony closes quietly.
But change is certainly occurring. The reconstruction of the relationship has only just begun. Even so, the distance between the two of them was becoming, little by little, a certain thing.
The hall is filled today as well with the scent of fruit and black tea.
Atem takes his seat naturally, hooks a finger on the rim of the teacup and quietly sips his tea.
His gaze goes to Seto unconsciously, but at once he turns it away.
To the movement of his own heart, he had not yet entirely woken.
"Today I've increased the ones I like. I hope you'll take to them too."
Atem's voice is soft, but carries a faint heat inside it.
"I see… so you are fond of pretty things."
Seto looks over the confectionery in all its colours and picks up a macaron.
A soft round thing in pastel colours.
Watching that, Atem felt something somewhere in his heart go slowly warm. A smile nearly escapes him in spite of himself.
"You smiled just now."
"…No, I—"
Atem shuts his mouth at once. The minute wavering of his heart that he does not want Seto to notice, Seto sees through immediately.
"There is no need to hide it. To me, everything is visible."
At those words Atem's heart gives a small jolt. He is seen through — and at the same time a sense of safety wells up, of being protected.
Amid the scent of black tea and the sweetness of the confectionery, Seto speaks to Atem quietly.
"Might I hear the continuation of the other day's story?"
Atem colours slightly and grips the cup with his fingertips.
"…Right. Little by little."
"There is no need to hurry. Slowly will do."
The gentleness in Seto's voice tickles deep in his chest.
But it does not simply grow sweet. From time to time Seto puts a light edge on his words.
"You still bind yourself too much. You may be more free, and more honest."
"Free… it isn't easily done."
"It is a thing I am poor at as well. Shall we practise together?"
Atem's cheeks go hot. At Seto's soft smile and his lightly provoking gaze, his heart wavers in spite of him.
"…True enough."
Atem closes the distance a little, from his own side.
The fingers he put out touch Seto's hand, and are lightly held.
"That reaction is truly delightful."
Seto laughs as though looking at something endearing.
"…It's hardly delightful."
At an Atem pushing his lips out small in protest, Seto gazes quietly. At the quiet heat contained deep in those eyes, Atem comes near giving his body over without knowing it.
While the hours of the tea ceremony flow slowly, Atem's heart was faintly changing.
The safety of being protected, the light provocation, and a self being drawn in without knowing it.
"Shall we end here for today?"
"…Right. Until next time."
Atem stood up, looking slightly reluctant to go.
Seto smiles quietly and holds out a hand lightly. Atem takes that hand, and for the barest instant twined his fingers with it.
Within the distance between them, a subtle manoeuvring and feelings that cannot yet be put into words cross each other.
The tea ceremony ends, but the relationship of the two of them was changing, little by little, and certainly.
After the tea ceremony, however many it was by then.
Deep in Atem's chest, a vague unease whirls.
The time spent with Seto was sweet, warm, and protected. But he understands, too, that he must not lean on that warmth alone.
To choose by his own will. To act by his own intention. It is not yet a complete strength, but the resolve to take a certain step forward had budded.
"There's something I want to say."
Seto had already grasped what Atem's talk would be. And precisely for that reason, he asked.
"My king, are you truly certain?"
Atem forces the voice out. It trembles, but the eyes that look at Seto do not waver.
"…I'll choose for myself. This time, I want to decide to go forward together with you."
He had known what the talk would be. Even so, for an instant, Seto let a colour of surprise show. And that turned into a mild smile, reflected in Atem's eyes.
"Understood. Since you show me your resolve, I shall protect it."
"Right. I'm in your hands."
"Not to be mine. Come to where I am."
That was not fierceness; it was a delicious invitation.
Not dominion, but a proposal to walk together.
Atem nodded small and closed his eyes.
It is not that he can forgive everything yet. But the intention of trusting and trying to entrust himself had quietly budded.
To show his own choice, even if it is not complete. That was a strength that was sweet, and with a little fragility left in it.
As though shaking off the unease stirring deep in his chest, he draws a deep breath.
Because the lips did not come down as they usually did, he opened his eyes, and Seto was gazing at him with a smile.
"Seto."
Gazing at Seto's faint smile, he felt for the first time that he could entrust his heart in safety.
That intention builds, quietly but certainly, the foundation of a new relationship between them.
It was the moment when the relationship was reconstructed and their hearts connected.
Into the room at night, only the quiet light of the moon comes in.
Atem's heart beats like an alarm bell, and his fingertips tremble faintly. Seto, standing where his eyes fall, does not hold him down by force; he simply enfolds him with a certain, overwhelming presence.
"There is nothing to fear. I am here."
The low, soft voice whispered at his ear seems to soak in directly, as far as the depths of his chest.
His body is still tense, and yet deep in his heart it was wavering, sweetly, past all resisting.
Seto's hand touches his shoulder gently and slides slowly. The strength in the fingertips is exquisite — not too strong, not too weak, only enough to shake Atem's breathing.
Atem, whose heart had been strung tight, catches his breath in spite of himself. His body draws close to Seto's presence naturally, and at that temperature the wall of his wariness melts, little by little.
"I promise. I shall let no one take you again."
That is not compulsion. With words, with intention, he touches Atem's heart slowly.
"Seto… that is—"
Bewildered as he is, Atem caught the warmth budding deep in his chest.
"That is a thing promised by your own feeling."
His hand taken, his shoulder touched, each time their eyes meet, the unease that had whirled deep in his heart comes loose a little at a time.
And Seto's soft smile quietly dissolved the feeling that would resist.
Seto does not let that moment past; he puts out a hand quietly and touches Atem's hand.
The warmth that touched his skin reached deeper than words, as far as the depths of his heart.
"You may be at ease, and be here."
The voice, quiet and yet carrying a certain intention, rings as though tickling his whole body.
When he closes his eyes, what he felt spreading to the very bottom of his body was not warmth or strength but a deep affection that quietly fills the heart.
Seto puts a faint smile at his mouth, touches his hair and his shoulder, and moves his fingertips as though confirming his existence.
Sensing the changes in Atem's breathing and heartbeat moment by moment, as though answering all of it, Seto quietly closes the distance.
"I want to receive all of you. There is nothing to be afraid of."
There is no fierceness in the words. But that quiet strength, precisely, is what turns Atem toward release.
His body still tense, his heart was completely ready to entrust itself.
Atem, to his own surprise, gives body and heart over naturally.
The way the fingertips touch, the faint strength at the shoulder, the crossing of breath.
All of it, like a rite for confirming each other's existence, is repeated, deeply and at length.
Seto shook Atem's heart without using force.
And Seto's own feelings, too, were crossing each other. In truth he had wanted to paint him over. But he touched him so as to accustom Atem to himself.
At the faintest touch, the sensation of Atem's whole body sharpens; sweetly, hotly, the waves press in. Seto does not let it past.
Atem trembled his breath and closed his eyes.
That entrusting himself was more natural than resisting, and comfortable as well — that too, he knew through and through.
"Seto…"
The depth of the trust, and the length of the nights they had spent, quietly set his body trembling and woke a sensation with sweetness and a faint fear mixed together.
The eyes of Atem, lifting his face, tell him. Want me harder.
Seto sensed all of it and hid the agitation deep in his chest. Not to bind, and not to hold down, but to take hold of Atem's heart deeply.
But the nights they had laid up had already moved the initiative from Seto to Atem's body. Each time Seto touches him, he cannot help stimulating Atem's memory of pleasure.
The wet eyes catch Seto and will not let him go.
"My king…"
He is about to repeat the same thing over again. That would be nothing but dominion a second time.
But against those eyes that want Seto, against the reverberation of dominion woken by a single faint breath, there was no possibility of resisting.
Letting out a small, hot breath, Seto set his teeth in his throat.
At the same time, the sweet breath let out from Atem.
The fierce pleasure Seto brings, which he cannot help wanting. It is neither love nor submission. It was something like a brand, past all helping now.
The deeper the night grew, the more they were filled by each other's existence alone, and words became almost unnecessary.
Simply feeling each other, their bodies dissolving into one another: a delicious, dense, fierce night.
Atem mistakes fear for pleasure, and Seto misunderstands gentleness as the proof of love, and between them pleasure and gentleness twine together, and once again the boundary grows vague, and melts.
Atem's body, and his heart, falling — all of it Seto received, and watched over.
Both Seto and Atem were, by day, certainly calm and rational, and trying to face each other. Their conversation, too, was courteous, and one could feel even a mutual respect.
But at night, when the light falls and stillness arrives — in that moment, the body can no longer lie.
Even so, it differs decisively from the dominion of before.
Mixed into it were each other's intention and an immature forgiveness.
By day, reason and reconstruction. By night, instinct and a re-enactment of memory.
Built by reason, broken by instinct, and patched up again by reason.
Within that repetition, groping for something that lies beyond dominion
Their nights are fierce not because the love is broken, but because they have not yet found the shape of the love.
This is one of three endings.
The others are 8a — REAL 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.
Of the three, this is the one that does not finish.
