Atem has researched a mortal-world custom called "the date," and intends to conduct fieldwork.
The results include a hotel lounge that resembles a diplomatic reception, three hours in a card shop, an onion mistaken for a rite, and a black-and-white film that raises the question of why anyone bothers to continue.
Meanwhile Seto is quietly solving a mythological problem with engineering — and the gate he builds does not get closed.
This is a translation of an original work on Pixiv.
Original Title: 愛と理論 02 王、デートをする
Original Author: 葉人(@Hathor_yuki)
Personal site: https://prideshipping.sakura.ne.jp
Atem said it with a perfectly straight face, in front of his morning coffee.
Judging by the phone in his hand, warm from too much scrolling, he had apparently been studying all night.
He had been rustling around next to him in the small hours — so he never slept at all, Seto thought, exasperated.
"...Have you dug up another peculiar paper?"
"No. It says it's an important ritual in the romantic life of the mortal world. To deepen mutual understanding and construct emotional intimacy."
"In short, a pretext for sharing idle time."
"I see. Logical. But I want to put it into practice myself."
Seto set down his cup and narrowed his eyes, just slightly.
"So the King wishes to conduct fieldwork in commoner culture."
"It's part of my research. With you, of course."
"A date for research purposes. I'm honoured."
The result of that exchange of quips: the day of the first date.
Having gone and said I'll leave the course to you, Atem found himself, several hours later, in the top-floor lounge of a Kaiba Corporation ultra-luxury hotel. Reserved exclusively, naturally.
Dedicated staff from the entrance onward, and a black limousine at the drop-off.
"...At this point isn't this less a romantic occasion than a diplomatic protocol?"
"An outing by the King requires treatment to match, does it not."
"No, that isn't what I meant."
The scent of herbal tea rose between them.
Atem spoke with his cup in his hands, eyes half-lidded.
"You arrange everything to perfection. Which means this date is missing the best part of it — the experience of working through trial and error together."
"You mean to call the act of sacrificing efficiency romance?"
"...Apparently so."
Seto laughed, briefly.
"Then romance is the defeat of rationality."
"But it's not a bad defeat."
"...That's a remarkably human thing to say."
"Whose fault is it that I've become human."
Silence.
In that short interval their eyes met, and neither looked away.
Beneath a conversation built up out of joking logic, there was a soft heat.
"Next time," Atem smiled, "I'll decide where we go."
"Where."
"A park. The two of us walk, buy something, and do whatever you'd consider inefficient."
"...For example."
"Sit on a bench. Do nothing."
Seto was laughing too, and nodding.
Time with no need for rationality, or strategy, or victory.
That there was someone to share it with was a greater happiness than he had expected.
A clear afternoon.
Atem had shed his sleep clothes and changed into a light jacket.
"Today's date is the one I planned."
"Let's hear it. What are the research contents."
"We walk together and share our discoveries. A simple behavioural-observation date."
Seto raised an eyebrow.
"In other words, a walk."
"Academically, yes. But in the mortal world it's classified as a romantic act."
"When did you develop this fondness for classification..."
"That too is your fault."
In that vein, the two of them went out into the city.
The street was full of people on their day off, and lined with shops. Atem walked with his eyes shining.
"This smell is... baked goods? The mortal world's combinations of spices are fascinating."
"Do you want to try one."
"No, I'm observing at the moment."
At a seriousness that belonged to a research fellow, Seto's shoulders shook with laughter.
Then Atem's feet came to a stop.
"...A card shop?"
In the display window: the newest packs, limited-edition decks, and his ace, Dark Magician, along with its support cards.
Before Seto could stop him, Atem had gone into the store.
"Ah... so card culture has developed this far."
"What became of the romantic act."
"I know. But this has high academic value."
"Academic...?"
"Look at this. The pack arrangement — as a sales strategy it's extremely ingenious!"
Exasperated, Seto nevertheless did not put out the light in Atem's eyes.
Atem was scrutinizing packs with the same seriousness he brought to standing on a battlefield.
"...You're more serious about this than about the date."
"Both are objects of intellectual excitement."
"Your terms of comparison are wrong."
In the end, the two of them spent more than half the planned time in the card store.
Atem got hold of a new pack with a full-faced smile, and started home.
Night. The Kaiba mansion.
Drinking herbal tea, Atem suddenly remembered.
"...Seto. Today was a date, wasn't it."
"You've finally noticed."
"Splendid, as ever. I'd forgotten entirely partway through."
"I could see that."
After a while of silence, Atem laughed a little, as though embarrassed.
"Even so, it was enjoyable. I'm satisfied."
"If we define date as time spent sharing each other's happiness, then it was a success."
"Good. Let's go with this format next time as well."
"Another card store?"
"No. Next time we use the cards and play."
"That is no longer anything but an everyday activity."
Seto laughed and tilted his cup.
Not efficient. Not according to plan.
But within that inefficiency there was a happiness he was sure of.
Sunday afternoon.
When Seto came through from the study into the main room, Atem was peering at a tablet with an oddly serious face.
At the end of that gaze: At-Home Date Special ♡
"...What are you looking at."
"A phenomenon called the at-home date. It seems this form exists in the mortal world as well."
"Form?"
"Dates have their varieties. And I have learned something — we are unsuited to the outdoor type."
"Unsuited... I won't deny it."
Seto let out a light sigh.
Last time, three hours in a card store. The time before that, a philosophical symposium in a lounge.
The presence of romance had been, one might say, arguable.
Atem closed the tablet and stood up in high spirits.
"If it's an at-home date, we ought to have some aptitude for it as well!"
"By what reasoning."
"The optimal environment for an intellectual creature is quiet and moderate stimulation. The house satisfies both conditions."
"In short, you simply don't want to go out."
"...I won't deny it."
Seto sighed and turned his eyes toward the ceiling.
"And so what is it you intend to do."
"We'll test it in order. First, we cook together."
"...You could use a knife?"
"When it comes to handling a sword, I have some knowledge."
"That's an alarming preamble."
The two of them standing in the kitchen.
Atem gripped the knife carefully, reading the recipe. But every movement was as solemn as a royal ceremony.
"Seto, is this the rite of mincing an onion?"
"It isn't a rite, it's cooking."
"Are the tears part of the trial?"
"No. A chemical reaction."
"The cuisine of the mortal world has depths..."
Without a word, Seto reached from behind and laid a hand over his.
"Like this. Let the hand lie flatter."
"Mm. ...Like this?"
"That's it. Don't take your fingers off, King."
"Spare me — that title robs me of my concentration in the kitchen..."
Only the sound of the pot simmering carried through the room.
The two of them happened to meet each other's eyes, and laughed a little.
What ended up on the table was a soup: misshapen, but warm.
Atem took up his spoon with a serious face.
"Seto. So this is the taste of a home."
"It has more humanity to it than palace cuisine, wouldn't you say."
"Heh. It's a fine thing."
A quiet afternoon; outside, the wind was stirring the trees.
Only the sound of the two of them laughing flowed on.
"...Was the at-home date a success?"
Atem asked.
Seto thought a moment, and nodded.
"From the moment you refrained from swinging the knife around, it was a success."
"Next I'd like to try the thing called a movie-watching date."
"Another object of research added to the list."
"Not research. The practice of love."
"...So you've learned how to phrase it."
A smile he couldn't suppress rose at the corner of Seto's mouth.
The King learns quickly, and with enthusiasm.
Only, the direction is slightly askew.
The living room at night.
The lights were down, and what was projected on the screen was an extremely accessible classic film of Seto's choosing.
The sight of the wine and cheese laid out in good order made it very nearly an aristocrat's drawing room.
But beside them, melon soda and popcorn had been set down with a thump ☆, wrecking the atmosphere.
"Atem. Among the entertainments of the mortal world, film is a composite art."
"Yes, I know. Music, theatre, painting — it encompasses them all, does it not."
"...You've researched it well."
"I learned that in the mortal world, lovers have the custom of watching films."
"An unusually cultured motive."
Atem straightened his posture and fixed the screen with a serious gaze.
What was projected was tranquil black-and-white imagery, and a weighty narration.
But before ten minutes had passed, his brows drew faintly together.
"...Seto. Why are this man and woman choosing their words so carefully."
"Because restrained emotional expression is a virtue."
"Is there some crime in restraining emotion?"
"No. It's an aesthetic."
"Incomprehensible from the very start. Beauty is not the concealment of truth."
Seto laughed in spite of himself.
"And how did they do it in your country."
"I've no experience of it, but presumably... if you loved someone you said so, and embraced them. If you wanted to embrace them, you embraced them. Because that is what I do."
"A difference in the level of civilisation."
"Surely not. You embrace me as well, don't you. If anything, this is a regression."
The film went on.
At the climax, the protagonist leaves his lover behind and departs for the front.
Atem leaned forward.
"Seto. Why does he go? She's weeping, isn't she."
"Duty. In order to protect his country."
"...And is anything truly protected that way."
Lit by the light of the screen, Seto let his gaze slide away.
"It is. By someone's decision, something continues."
"Continues, is it..."
Atem murmured it quietly.
At the word, a faint wind out of the afterlife passed through.
Inside Atem, the self that was a king and the self that was here now overlapped, thinly.
The film ended, and the credits began to roll.
After a little stillness, Atem spoke.
"Seto. Why do you suppose the people of the mortal world break their hearts so over continuing."
"Because that's what it is to live, presumably."
"...In the afterlife, the end of eternity holds dominion. But in the mortal world, continuing holds dominion."
Seto tilted the wineglass beside him and laughed, briefly.
"Because there's an end, you continue. Is that where your reason for remaining in the mortal world lies."
Atem did not answer, and only went on gazing at the screen.
The afterglow of the images was still drifting in the air.
"Seto."
"What."
"To continue — it's a difficult thing, isn't it."
"But for you it's possible. You're a king who learns, aren't you?"
"Not as a king. As the self I am now... little by little, I want to learn."
Seto set down his glass and let out a breath.
"If you intend to learn, the teaching material is right here."
"Material?"
"Me."
Atem laughed a little.
"That's a considerably expensive set of materials."
"The usage fee will be... labour, and the occasional smile."
"It'll cost you."
"I don't mind."
The two of them sat side by side and gazed, without a word, at the light of the credits.
The white of the screen lit the space between them, slowly.
Neither the afterlife nor the mortal world: time that belonged only to the two of them.
"Are you watching something else?"
"A romantic comedy. I need corroboration for the theory."
"...You're already research-minded enough."
Their laughter overlapped, quietly.
That sound went on, endlessly gentle.
One night. The study of the Kaiba mansion.
On the screen that covered one whole wall was an image like satellite footage of the afterlife.
Sand-coloured earth, wavering light, the temple of the King.
Seto's afterlife observation system, with the technological power of the mortal world slammed into it.
"...It's stable. Even with the King absent."
Seto muttered it under his breath.
"Who is it you're talking to?"
Atem's voice came from behind him.
Seto gave a light shrug.
"The object of surveillance."
"Surveillance, is it."
"A turn of phrase. Situational observation, maintenance verification, scientific measurement."
"In short, you're verifying whether things hold up if I don't return, aren't you?"
"You're quick."
Atem smiled.
"Seto. I've noticed. You don't say go back anymore."
"You wouldn't listen if I said it."
"Mm... that is certainly true enough."
"So I am merely being rationally silent."
"Rational silence. A poet of the afterlife would weep to hear it."
Seto smiled with his mouth alone and pointed at the light of the afterlife on the screen.
"Look. The priests are maintaining order as well. It functions in your absence."
"...But the King's seat remains empty."
"A symbol. There's no impediment to the practical work."
"That you can dispose of it as no impediment is very like you."
"Then shall I project you there with Solid Vision. With an AI built in so that you come off in character."
"...No..."
After a short silence, Atem's voice turned just slightly serious.
"Seto. Straddle the afterlife and the mortal world for too long and the soul loses the place it settles into. I know that."
"And?"
"...Even so, I want to be here."
"Then be here."
"Don't make it sound so simple."
"It is a simple matter. If the soul won't stabilize, then stabilize it. Build a physical anchor and fix your coordinates in the mortal world."
Atem laughed as though exasperated.
"You intend to solve a mythological problem with technology."
"I'm accustomed to dealing with gods."
"...I'm not a god, you know?"
"Even discounting that, in my reality you are an exception."
At Seto's way of putting it, Atem fell silent in spite of himself.
A faint weight came down, as though something had been confessed to him.
"...Seto."
"What."
"Your rationality is, at times, very emotional."
"Your emotion is, at times, very rational."
Their gazes crossed.
The light of the screen reflected in the eyes of them both, and wavered like a fire of the afterlife.
Atem let out a small breath.
"I may become unable to return."
"You won't be returning."
"Seto."
"...If that world is no longer the place where you belong. Then it's a simple matter of my making this place where you belong."
Silence, and a resonance deeper than words, quietly filled the air.
Several days later.
Atem was standing in the space between the afterlife and the mortal world.
He was on the point of returning to the afterlife, to check the situation there and to verify the success of the theory.
A thinly wavering membrane of air. That was the boundary.
"Seto. Here's a thought of mine. Have I not already fallen outside the definition of the dead?"
"By what measure do you call it falling outside."
"Memory and emotion both — I'm exchanging them with one of the mortal world, like this. What is it that separates that from being alive?"
Seto was silent a moment, and folded his fingers together in front of the terminal.
"Belonging is decided by will, not by physiology. As long as you choose the mortal world, and choose me, the afterlife can't bind you."
"...Very like you."
Atem's voice was calm, and yet somehow sorrowful.
"But if I lose the afterlife entirely, the very concept of me vanishes. The root of my existence may waver."
"Then arrange things so that it doesn't waver."
Seto's voice was quiet, but there was something almost entertained in it.
"If it's a world that holds together by reasoning, then a bridge can be built with reasoning."
"You seriously intend to build a bridge?"
"A bridge... no, a gate would be more apt. Reversibility becomes necessary. Closed, yet connected."
"...A gate to come and go freely between the afterlife and the mortal world? You intend to set foot in the domain of the gods?"
"Dividing the domains was done for human convenience. Logically, the worlds have always been in contact."
Atem shrugged, just slightly.
"Your logic is, at times, more terrifying than the afterlife."
"I'll take that as praise."
A little silence.
Then Atem smiled, faintly.
"...It would be amusing if I opened the door and it connected to your room."
"That's possible. Shall I implement it."
"It was a joke, Seto."
"I optimise even my jokes."
The afterlife.
The nights of the afterlife are tranquil, and yet oddly alive.
Atem sat on the throne and closed his eyes.
Behind that stillness, he had been feeling a faint gaze.
"...Again, Seto."
The same hour. The research lab in the mortal world.
Before the light of the terminal, Seto raised an eyebrow slightly.
"So he noticed. I raised the observation precision too high."
Before long the connection went through.
Atem's voice rang out, sounding somehow amused.
I don't dislike being watched. But have you added the hobby of keeping watch over people, of all things?
"The afterlife's fluctuations aren't stable. Grasping the coordinates at which you exist is nothing more than risk management."
Interference under the name of observation. The gods of the world would be angry to hear it.
"Let the gods be angry. I'll take my statistics."
Atem laughed low in his throat.
I see. So their anger, too, is part of the data.
In the course of that intellectual exchange, the temperature of each other's voices drew unmistakably closer.
And then, one such evening.
Atem put his hand to the door of his private chamber.
From beyond the door, for some reason, the air of the mortal world flowed in.
Puzzled, he pushed it gently open — and in that instant, Seto was standing there.
"It's finally complete."
"...You. You've tampered with the gate of the gods."
"I wouldn't call it tampering. I merely aligned the coordinates."
"...I see. Which means, if I pass through this door now..."
"There's an anchor as well. Me. Which is to say, it's possible for you to come at any time. There's no need to fall in the way you did before."
Atem was silent a little while, and then laughed.
"...I can choose it by will. Though at this point it's less coming and going than living together."
Seto shrugged.
"What are you saying at this stage. Well, either one is fine. The definition of a boundary is nothing but the wording of a contract."
"...You think that if you attach a reason to it, anything is permitted, don't you."
"Because you're the one who permits it."
Between the two of them, the air of the afterlife and the mortal world quietly melted together.
The gate stayed open, having forgotten to close.
Morning. The bedroom of the Kaiba mansion.
When Atem woke, Seto was not beside him.
In his place, a terminal set down on the desk was glowing faintly.
On afterlife duty today, therefore absent. Back by evening.
A message from Seto.
Atem narrowed his eyes and smiled.
"This... there's a possibility this is the thing they call a dual-income married couple... No, perhaps that's simply what it is."
Gnawing on bread in the dining hall, Atem thought it over.
The commute in the mortal world has its traffic jams, but Seto often passes through the gate and transfers instead.
Atem could get to the company in an instant using the gate himself, and on the days Seto was around he'd be shoved into a car and told he was wasting commuting time, despite there being neither traffic nor red lights involved.
When he was alone, though, he somehow felt he had to taste the morning air, and so he ended up walking to work after all.
The receptionist at the company said, smiling:
"Good morning, Atem-san. Walking today?"
"Walking puts my thoughts in order. The transit of the human world is, if anything, well made."
Around that time, in the afterlife.
Inside a base he had unilaterally named the Underworld Bureau of Technology, Seto was running lines of light.
A priest asked, with a bewildered face:
"Lord Seto, is that... a soul flow control apparatus, perhaps?"
"No. More precisely, a stabilization server."
"A — a server...?"
"I'm putting a network in order in the afterlife. The bandwidth is insufficient for the King to send directives from the mortal world."
Without understanding the meaning, the priest nodded, half on the verge of tears.
"Will we... be able to keep up..."
Seto smiled, unusually.
"There's no need for worry. Atem struggled at first as well — with where to save files in Excel."
"...Ek-cell?"
"...A tool of the gods."
The priests turned pale and began to pray.
In the afterlife, one more new faith was born.
Night.
When Atem came home, Seto was sitting and waiting.
In the suit he'd come back from the afterlife in.
Hanging up his coat, Atem said:
"Good work today, to the both of us."
"In today's meeting I got them to consent to optimising the lines."
"Oh? So the afterlife's communications have finally gone broadband."
Sipping his coffee, Seto laughed lightly.
"A priest came crying to me because the connection dropped during your remote meeting. So I put it in order."
"...It's getting too convenient. The Underworld won't be the world after death anymore, you know?"
"If it comes to that, the word the next life will require redefinition."
Atem burst out laughing.
"You seriously intend to update the concept of death?"
"Inefficient systems get selected out. That's all."
A conversation like an excessively intellectual marital quarrel.
But afterward, the two of them put the same food in their mouths together, and laughed.
Late at night.
In one corner of the room, that gate was glowing quietly.
Looking up at the light, Atem murmured:
"It's strange after all, isn't it. The afterlife and the mortal world, connected here."
"A boundary only ever exists where a human has drawn the line."
Atem turned to the side.
Seto was standing there.
In the faint lighting, his voice took on just a little gentleness.
"If the place you want to be is here, the reasoning can be made to match afterward."
"You're a man with more give to him than a god..."
"The gods created the world. I only reconstruct it."
Atem smiled and came closer.
"The results of the reconstruction aren't bad."
Seto laughed, slightly.
And with that, silence came down between the two of them.
The light of the gate was as warm as the lamp of a home.
Morning.
From beyond the gate connecting the border of the afterlife and the mortal world, a faint light shone in.
Brewing coffee, Atem turned the pages of a newspaper. The contents were a mortal-world financial paper, naturally.
Beside him, Seto was looking at the afterlife's line data.
"That's as abstruse as ever. What are you analysing?"
"Soul flow-rate data. Lately, the dawn in the afterlife has been coming earlier."
"The dawn coming earlier... does the afterlife have such phenomena?"
"It does. It appears that when the King smiles, light runs."
Seto leaned over to look at the paper, with theatrical obviousness.
"Try smiling. I'll verify it with data."
Exasperated, Atem set down his coffee cup.
"...You're about the only one who would try to measure a king's smile with science."
"If it can't be measured, I'll simply report it as a phenomenon."
"You'd write luminosity increase due to King's smile in the report?"
"I'd write factor in world stability: subjective happiness."
Atem started to open his mouth, then laughed a little and shook his head.
"...Your reasoning is at times too sweet. It's a problem."
"It's more logical than sugar."
"Don't get flustered by way of logic."
Seto put his fingers to the glass and answered, suddenly, in a low voice.
"Being interfered with by the sound of your laughter — it isn't bad."
Atem lowered his eyes a little and steadied his breath.
"Then tonight, let's increase the data further."
"Experimentally?"
"As a personal interest."
A soft silence flowed between the two of them.
Outside the window, the skies of the afterlife and the mortal world overlapped. In neither of their times was there a boundary any longer.
The King of the Underworld and the scientist of the mortal world.
Analysing each other while living in the same house. A relationship connected not by reasoning nor by magic, but by understanding.
The scent of coffee, and the faint startup sound of a terminal.
Today again, the "ordinary life" of the two of them begins.
