Chapter Three

Isis bit her lip as she reached the end of Seto's carefully copied hieroglyphs and looked up. "Well?" Seto asked her. Isis could hear the eagerness in his voice. Meeting his eyes apologetically, she shook her head.

But Seto had already been able to tell by her expression that his day's work had once again been a failure. He felt his face grow taut, and he clenched his fist in frustration. Not bothering to take the papers Isis was holding out to him—they were useless, after all—he turned away and stalked off. Once again, the text that he had spent an entire day working on didn't mention the blue-eyed girl he was trying to find. Even the Ishtars' help in "editing" his poorly-copied hieroglyphs was worthless.

Passing the library, Seto paused for a moment in contemplation, then continued to his room. Sometimes he wanted to copy another text after the failure of one, but not today. Today he just wanted to brood. He sat down at his table and booted up his laptop, deciding he would write an email to Mokuba.

In her own room, Isis was changing into one of her more comfortable dresses. As she did, she worried about Seto. Today was the first time she had edited one of his papers—well, edited it with his permission anyway, since the first time had been before he had officially allowed the Ishtars to look over his papers after finishing them. That was a few days ago, but usually by the time she returned home from work, Rishid or Malik had already edited the copies and announced that they didn't mention the girl. At that news, Isis's brothers told her, Seto would either go to the library to copy more hieroglyphs or to his room to brood.

But this was the first time she'd seen for herself how frustrated Seto could become.

As she pulled her hair out of its braid, she wondered if Seto would accept more help. Probably not, because Malik had already offered to search through the texts on his own for the girl, and Seto had refused.

But it was worth a try, wasn't it?

Seto had almost finished his email to Mokuba when he heard Isis come in. Quickly, he pressed a series of keyboard commands that closed the email, saved it to his computer, and minimized the internet. Then, without turning around to face Isis, he asked, "What do you want?"

Isis, who hadn't been able to follow the rapid movement of Seto's hands or the computer screen, answered with a question of her own. "What were you doing?"

Seto shrugged. "None of your business," he said guardedly.

He turned around to see Isis looking slightly suspicious.

"What was it?" she asked.

"Nothing," Seto repeated, glaring at her.

Isis met his eyes seriously. "It wasn't anything to do with our texts, was it?"

Seto frowned at her, but then he realized that her suspicion was, if not valid, reasonable. "I was writing to Mokuba."

"Oh." Isis relaxed. "I can come back later, then," she said.

But before she could leave, Seto said, "Wait. What do you want?"

"It isn't important," Isis replied. "I don't want to bother you."

"You've already bothered me. Now make your interruption worth my time."

Isis cast a bemused look at Seto, puzzled by his strange logic. His eyes were expressionless, giving no hint of whether or not he was serious.

"Well, it's nothing really…" she said hesitantly.

"You interrupted my letter to Mokuba for nothing?" Seto scoffed, giving her a scowl. In truth, he wasn't really bothered by her interruption. He just wanted to make sure she thought he was, so it wouldn't happen again.

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what is it?" Seto asked, putting his fingertips together and fixing Isis with a stare that often caused KaibaCorp employees mild panic attacks.

However, Isis wasn't affected because she wasn't looking at him anymore; she suddenly found the texture of the stone ceiling quite fascinating. "I… I know you're not doing very well with your research," she said quietly. "It must be very frustrating for you."

Seto shrugged and hmph-ed. "Your point is?"

"Well… it might make things easier for you if I were to help look—"

"I don't want your help."

Once again, Seto's abrupt refusal puzzled Isis. She bit her lip for a moment, and then said, "But don't you want to find that girl? If you would let me help, you wouldn't have to waste your time looking through useless books!"

"I don't care," Seto said. "I don't want anyone's help." Turning his back on her, he opened up his email to Mokuba and began typing. Isis knew Seto wanted to end the conversation, but something told her to keep talking.

"I want you to find what you're looking for, Seto," she said quietly. Seto cast an irked look over his shoulder at her, only to find that she wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were on the ground as she continued, "I want you to be happy. I… I care about y… how you feel. That's why I encouraged Malik to allow you to come here. It's why I'm offering my help now."

Seto scowled, beginning to think that he should have told her to leave right away. "I don't care why you're offering your help. I told you, I don't want it. The fact that I have to keep repeating myself makes me wonder whether or not you're listening to me."

"I am," she replied softly. Why did she suddenly feel so small?

"Well, then why don't you pay attention to what I'm saying?"

Isis shrugged and lifted her eyes from the ground. For a moment, Seto thought she looked a little sad. But then her face was impassive, respectful. "I understand," she said quietly. "I won't bother you about it anymore." She bowed and left the room.

Seto resisted the urge to say "Good!" to her back. By himself once again, he finished his email and then shut down his computer. His stomach gave a small growl, and he realized that one of the Ishtars would be bringing him his dinner soon. He hoped it wouldn't be Isis, as it usually was. He'd had about enough of her for a while.

He didn't know where her talent of grating on his nerves came from, but he certainly knew she had it. What's more, she probably knew it too.

But strangely, he didn't mind her persistence as much lately, even though she was acting exactly as she had during Battle City. Seto wondered whether this was because he was growing immune to her, or maybe even—

No, it had to be because he was becoming immune. Seto tried to dismiss the other option, which had voiced itself in his mind before he could stop it. Starting to like her, indeed! Seto forced a laugh. That was ridiculous.

…Wasn't it?

Lying on her bed, Isis was thinking similar things. Why does it matter so much? she asked herself. Why do I care what he does? It's his choice how he goes about looking for that girl, and nothing I do will change his mind about it.

But it hurt her when she saw him so upset. His frustration was like a stab to her own heart.

Why did it hurt her, though? It wasn't because he was learning nothing about his past, although until now Isis had told herself that that was the case.

Was it because she was… fond of him? By the end of their duel at Battle City, Isis had known that she liked Seto—she respected him and enjoyed speaking with him, even if all they did was debate (some would say argue). But now it went beyond that. Now it was more important to her that he found what he the blue-eyed girl he was looking for than whether or not he learned about his past. She wanted him to succeed. She wanted him to be happy, as she'd told him.

But why?

It's just for one month, Seto was thinking. In less than a month, I can leave.

But suddenly, he felt a pang of sadness. After that, I'll never see Isis again. The thought unfolded in his mind, entirely without his permission. So? he thought back quickly. Why should I care? I don't! I don't care if I never see her again! I can't wait!

Except that, for whatever reason, he did care. And he knew it. And it made him angry.

Isis shifted position on her bed. She was so confused. Her heart was confused, and so her normally logical mind was also confused. She didn't like it.

One month only, she told herself. After that, Seto's gone, and I don't have to—

Seto's gone. Why did her heart clench at that thought?

I don't want him to be gone. I don't want to never see him again.

Seto pounded his fist into the table, trying to make his heart agree with his head. I don't care! I don't care about her! But the same thought kept answering back: Yes, I do.

Isis covered her face with her hand and rubbed her forehead. So it's true, I care about him. But why?