By popular demand, this is now a two-shot! Mwahaha.

To say that he was short-tempered was like saying that Christmas fell in December. It was just that obvious. Truth be told, it wasn't like he necessarily wanted to have a short temper—he just naturally had one. And, with that in mind, it wasn't like he could really be blamed for everything that happened on behalf of his temper. It just happened.

That sounded utterly absurd. Even to him.

With a flourish of his hand, Kaiba Seto dropped his silver-toned trench coat next to a plain wooden table in his revoltingly plain little room. A sigh left him as he collapsed onto an armchair, stretching out his legs before crossing them in an act of boredom, disgust and—above all else—impatience.

He hadn't been expecting some grand room with silken bedcovers and an exquisitely carved oaken closet, complete with a delicate touch of ornamental décor that brought out the sheer splendor of the finely painted walls…

…but this was ridiculous.

Kaiba idly thought of the time when his little brother had told him to "spruce up the room some." As far as he was concerned, he and decorating didn't mix— he just stayed there.

At present, he was in some obsolete room in an even more obsolete ship, traveling to some three thousand-year-old burial site where the "Pharaoh" could make his last rites.

And people asked why he was being ill-tempered. The ingrates.

Unable to stand the thought of looking around the room for another second, Kaiba picked up the book he had absently left on the coffee table in front of him. He leafed through the pages of before getting to where he had left off.

He'd barely started reading when he heard a knock. Suppressing a wince, Kaiba hoped that whoever was at the door would just give up the knocking and go away.

They didn't.

Kaiba cleared his throat quietly.

"Come in."

Part of him wished that his "beloved visitor" didn't hear what he had said. He'd made his voice hoarse and almost inaudible on purpose. His eyes flicked over to where the doorknob began turning.

Apparently, they had heard.

Kaiba turned his attention back to his book. From the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of beige, gold and black. He realized the figure instantly. Why did it have to be her, of all people? Getting rid of her wouldn't be easy. But it didn't mean he wouldn't try.

Onto Plan B… Maybe if he didn't greet her for a few minutes, she would leave.

He waited, and after rereading the same sentence about twelve times, finally relented in annoyance.

As Kaiba marked his page, he said, nonchalantly, "Ishizu, come to fill my head with more nonsense about how 'fate' led me here, and that by choosing to come, I have chosen to accept my 'inevitable destiny'?"

He met her narrowed gaze with a triumphant smirk.

"No, actually. I am in no mood to quarrel with you about something you seem to find absolutely useless. I suppose that is why your responses are usually so cliché," she parried calmly.

Kaiba glared at her, scowling.

He hated how she was able to counter his remarks so smoothly. She and she alone had always been able to leave him speechless, so that he had to resort to glaring in order to suffice for his abrupt silence.

"Kaiba Seto, why did you help me?"

Ishizu seemed almost as stunned at the question as he was. His brows furrowed. Help her? Help her with what?

"Help you with what?" he asked, brows now lightly raised.

"My brother… Had you not given the Pharaoh that card before his duel with my brother's darker half…there is no way that he could have won."

Kaiba laughed scornfully despite the softness he heard in her voice.

"I gave Yuugi that card to see if he was clever enough to play it correctly," Kaiba explained matter-of-factly, "He did and won, which happened to save your brother. I played no direct hand in saving him."

"But you did so, Kaiba Seto, indirectly." Really now? "Without that card, the Pharaoh would surely have lost. Then my brother would be…"

Ishizu cut herself off midway, her hand going to her bare neck almost instinctively.

Kaiba stared at her expressionlessly. How had he ever met a woman who was so foolish, yet equally intelligent at the same time?

She was extraordinary.

Despite how calm and collected she appeared to be on the outside, inside she was so fragile. Kaiba thoughtfully wondered if she would break if he touched her, though he deemed the idea ludicrous almost immediately.

No, she wasn't fragile. He took it back, silently chastising himself for even thinking that she was weak. Instead she was like…

…like the ocean, the idea reaffirmed by the color of her eyes. On the surface she looked to be placid and tranquil, but underneath she was brewing with a turmoil of doubt, concern and worry.

And—for some reason that even eluded him—he wanted to help her.

It struck him. The reason why he had given Yuugi the card.

It was for…

Bracing himself, Kaiba stood and took a few steps towards her. He stopped when he was only a few feet away and crossed his arms over his chest. Ishizu didn't turn to look at him, didn't even give him a glance. She still seemed lost in her own reverie.

Kaiba spoke, his voice low.

"Listen to me, Ishizu."

"I agree, perhaps giving that card to Yuugi allowed him to save your brother from his 'darker half,' as you call it. However, that is all that I did. Should you be thanking anyone, thank Yuugi."

It sounded like a reasonable enough answer to him. Ishizu, evidently, didn't think it was enough, for she said: "I did not come to thank you. I came to ask why you decided to help me."

He started to speak, but she cut him off. "And you did help me, Kaiba Seto, whether it was intentional or not. Do not deny it."

Kaiba's jaw set. His shoulders lost their former tension and slackened some while his face stiffened. Suppressing the urge to curse, he instead ran his fingers through his hair and said,

"Whatever the case, your brother is fine now. Isn't that what truly matters?"

She nodded. He felt relieved—

"But you have still failed to answer my question. Why did you give the Pharaoh the card he needed in order to win the duel?"

—but that relief, alas, was short-lived.

Kaiba gazed at her through a wisp of his dark brown hair. His patience—or what was left of it—was slowly winding down. He took a breath to calm down, noting halfheartedly how amazingly persistent she was.

"…Yuugi's chances of winning were around three percent," he said in a strained voice, "I decided to make it a twenty percent duel to see if he could face the odds and win, and he did."

He saw her straighten, saw the sharp look she gave him.

"You mean to tell me that the only reason you gave him the card was to see if your suspicions proved true?"

Kaiba was alarmed by the infuriation hidden deep within her composed frontage. It was so true. She and the ocean were practically synonymous.

But seeing her like this, seeing her this enraged—and at him, no less. He felt so…

"No, Ishizu. That isn't why, not entirely… It's not…"

This time he trailed off. He closed his eyes, exasperated by his own incoherency.

"Then why?"

His eyes locked with hers.

"You really want to know?"

"I do."

Three long strides took him to her side. By the time Ishizu seemed to notice how close he actually was, he already had his arm outstretched to the wall behind her.

Her face was as cool as ever, but her eyes betrayed her serenity.

"I believe I asked for an answer, and not this display of how close one can get to another without striking a nerve."

Kaiba admired her audacity.

"Have I struck a nerve yet, Ishizu?" he asked her softly.

Whether she was going to answer or not, it didn't matter. At that instant, he inclined his head forward and brushed his lips with hers. Ishizu's immediate reaction, as he had anticipated, was that she began to pull back. He caught her tanned wrist in a secure grip.

"I did it for you."

Kaiba met her gaze and allowed her to search his face. If she was looking for some sign of contempt or mockery, he was confident she wouldn't find anything—anything, that is, except for sincerity. Ishizu had wanted an answer, after all, and that was his answer: he had done it for her.

It seemed as if she had come to this conclusion, too, because she lowered her gaze to the floor and began to move away from him in silence. He released her wrist, turned back around and returned to his armchair.

Just as he had thought: she wouldn't break at his touch. She was far too resilient.

Kaiba flipped open his book once more and began reading. Unlike before, this time he was actually able to focus.

"I thank you then, Kaiba Seto."

Ishizu's voice was soft, as soft as ever. He smiled a little to himself as he watched her departing figure, and said, just as quietly,

"You're welcome."