Author's Note: The story is divided into four, possibly five, 'books', each containing five chapters. It is meant to be slow and I hope everybody understands. It's AU, so none of those AE arc and canon stuff. But I intend and I am trying to keep the characterization of Seto and Yami familiar. I hope it doesn't disappoint. Much-understatement of the year- thanks to Jolly and barrie18, whose insights have allowed me to improve on my draft. I honestly wouldn't post it if it weren't for them. Feedback is highly appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Book I

Beginnings

Nothing appears out of thin air. In the real world, magic doesn't exist. Objects don't spontaneously combust. And neighbours don't automatically become the best of friends. We call this progression. All relationships, whether they are platonic or romantic, are built on trust and faith. This is the first step of Seto and Yami's 'progression': Friendship.

Chapter 1: Meetings

He heard it first, the sniffling, before he noticed the slight moving behind the bushes of the abandoned construction yard. And somehow, even without looking, he knew it was the same boy he's seen the day before. Parting the bushes, he moved without hesitance towards the boy, who didn't seem to notice him until he placed a hand on the other boy's shoulder.

"They're gone."

He didn't expect the other boy to respond, really. The other boy must have been embarrassed, Seto thought. But the way the other boy simply stared at him, blank of emotions or thoughts, unnerved him. No one looked at him like that before. No one pushed the burden of proving honesty to him. It made him feel like he was obliged to show that he wasn't one of them.

"I sent them away," Seto said consolingly. Reconciliatory, even. As if he really had the burden, and he found that he didn't mind—not when the boy, who had the deepest albeit tear-filled red eyes he's ever seen, sighed and turned around.

"Please leave me alone."

Seto had to strain to hear those words whispered, and hushed the tone might be, the implication was loud and clear. Boys were proud, frustrating creatures and they didn't admit to the weaknesses they had. The boy was not embarrassed. He was mortified... and was thinking about something. Reflecting must be the right term and Seto was already impeding on that. But he glanced at the afternoon sky littered with storm clouds, knew for a fact that it didn't mean well. He thought the boy, whose name he still hadn't bothered to get, deserved the peace this seemingly hidden corner of the construction yard offered but not at the expense of being exposed to the inevitable heavy rainfall. (Besides, they were neighbours and neighbours looked out for each other!)

"It's not safe here," Seto answered calmly like he knew better, which he felt he did. It must not have been the right attitude to bear, though, because the previously sullen boy now stood up, righteous anger burning brightly in the eyes that Seto had come to adore.

"I said leave me alone! Leave me alone!"

Seto's mother used to tell him, when she was still healthy and beautiful with her perpetually pinkish cheeks and fair complexion, that he was a stubborn young man. Apparently he wasn't alone in the world. But he was certain he was the more stubborn of the both of them and he stood his ground. He knew when he was right... and this time he was right! To make sure, he closed the distance so they were just an inch from each other. He was trying to project just how tall he was; make him look more foreboding.

"It's going to rain. If you get caught in it, you'll get sick. Wouldn't your mother be sad about that?" That was emotional blackmail. His cousin taught him that. He was a fast learner. He held out his hand, a gesture of friendship... maybe peace. "I'm Seto Kaiba."

The distrust in the other boy's eyes was palpable and he looked at the outreached hand disdainfully. As if somehow Seto had offended the whole world by being friendly. And just when Seto thought it was a lost cause – why he was helping in the first place, he had no idea but he guessed even he experienced bouts of insanity – the boy grasped it and shook it firmly, like fathers would instruct their sons to do. Wouldn't want others to have a bad impression of them, would they? Churlishly, the boy answered, "I'm Yami."

'Yami' was the boy Seto saw in the moving truck several days ago. He was the one who carried a box bigger than himself into the house, and the one who woke a younger look-alike who slept in the car. Yami was the one who hugged the nice lady of the house before running inside to do something Seto never learned about. And it was Yami who went to the construction yard today right after a strange man entered their house to perhaps talk to Yami's mother – or at least Seto assumed her to be his mother. He ran right before the loud noises started in the house. Seto's seen them because he was in their own backyard and he didn't like what he was hearing. There were words his mother said never to repeat and a lot of shouting. His parents never shouted. And they never used bad words either.

Seto had thought, when he ran after his neighbor, that maybe they could be friends. The other kids in the neighborhood were idiots—dunderheads who didn't know left from right, who couldn't construct grammatically-correct sentences even if their lives depended on it. But he's heard Yami—has heard him talk to his younger brother, to his mother. Has seen him play on his own and read without guidance. He was intelligent, Seto had thought. And when he saw Yami being pushed around, no word of protest from him coming out, only the dimming of his once-bright eyes, Seto thought that Yami—intelligent that he might be—might actually be alone and lonely.

"I live next door to you," Seto said, attempting to break the awkward silence that reigned upon them. Yami refused to look at him. In fact, his attention was directed at the clouds that literally hung above them—clouds so dark and blackish gray that it gave Seto a sense of foreboding. As if aside from raining hard, something bad was going to happen. And he didn't want to be caught in that. "Well, come on! We'll go to your house."

"I don't invite people to my house," Yami deflected, shutting him out just as soon as he met him. "I don't invite people who aren't my friends."

For some reason, Yami equated friendship to trustworthiness. Seto got the message instantly.

"Let's be friends then."

As if it was as simple as that. As if Yami, who was wary of him, who shunned him and refused to be seen crying over the pain and bruises he's sustained, would just fall for that. Seto was an idiot sometimes—not as stupid as the other kids but he was still an idiot. Yeah, sure, 'let's be friends', he thought sourly. Like that's going to happen. Yami didn't want to, it seemed. Until Yami, who didn't hear his self-depreciative remarks, nodded his head and sent a small smile to him. (That one, he caught and he found himself returning it.)

"Fine. But I'm not easy."

"I don't expect you to be."

Seto Kaiba was eleven years old when he met his evasive, quiet ten-year old and a half neighbor, Yami Mutou. It wasn't the most likely of places, and it wasn't how you traditionally befriend your neighbours. But Seto realized one day that he and Yami were not cut out for tradition and all those uptight, petty things anyway. They were so much better than that.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Seto found out that Yami's mother gave birth to him when she was 19 years old. Just about fresh out of high school and deeply in love with her then-boyfriend that she thought having Yami would be the best gift she and her 'wonderful' boyfriend ever had. But the man had a different opinion and chose left when Yami's mother wanted to go right. It happened every day, Seto knew, to nameless, faceless people he didn't bother to care about. People abandoning each other, he meant. Yet they normally didn't matter to him, and therefore he didn't need to know them. Yami told him this when they were camping in Seto's backyard. Seto found himself caring.

It was the fifth day of summer break and Yami was going to be enrolled in the same year and class Seto was. But school was months away and at that moment the stars had stopped hiding from the traitorous veil of clouds, twinkling as if they were winking on the two boys lying on the grass. Yami was pensive, until he spoke up and talked about the wonderful lady who gave Seto chocolate chip cookies.

"I hate him," Yami hissed with as much hatred as a ten-year old could muster.

"Who?" Because for a moment Seto's mind had wandered and temporarily forgotten that they were talking about Yami's mother.

"The man who left my mom. I hate him. If I see him, I'll do the worst thing I can think of."

Honestly, a ten-year old thought differently. While a teenager could spill out the words 'kill' and 'him', string both into a wonderful, powerfully emotional sentence, a ten-year old boy who's seen his mother get hurt by the other boyfriends she's had could really just think of pulling a prank that although won't kill anyone, would be severe enough to leave the poor victim with broken bones. At least. Sometimes Seto thought Yami was dangerous, and he was glad he was friends with him. Great dangerous people had to stick together, you know.

"Has he ever visited you?" Seto found himself asking. It didn't make a difference. Then again, he was curious and even if his mother kept telling him about the cats who die because of curiosity... he, well, he wasn't a cat and he was really just innately curious about things that were relevant to his life. Besides how could Yami hate someone he's never met? That would be like hating Santa Claus for not appearing when he didn't exist in the first place.

Yami was quiet for a moment before he sighed.

"He went to our house on my birthday but never before that. And never again."

Yami must be reliving the time he saw his biological father for the first and last time. He knew Yami, though— knew him even though they've only been friends for a couple of days. Yami wasn't happy to see his father. To him, his father was dead. His father hurt his mother so deeply that Seto swore Yami could feel it. Sometimes when he managed to steal a glimpse at his friend's mother, he would see the sorrow there. He assumed it to be sorrow because his mother never had that. She was sad sometimes ... but sorrow was graver than that. It was like a black hole that his Science teacher used to talk about. The ones that suck planets and other heavenly bodies in, regardless of how big or small they were. If Seto had been in Yami's shoes, he wouldn't just think of hating the man. He'd have cursed him using all the foul words he's heard and been told not to repeat, and thought of the man rotting in the hell of the eternal burning kind.

"Well... you don't need him. You're stronger than him. Handsomer too," Seto consoled. He heard his grandmother say that word – handsomer – when his grandmother was still alive and he was still five years old. It must have been a magic word of sorts because he saw Yami smiling in that soft, patronizing way. Yami'd smile like that every time Seto'd intentionally do something ridiculous to cheer him up.

Often times Seto would think about making Yami laugh, not smile. Making Yami smile was easy. He's never heard or seen his friend laugh though and although he wasn't one for laughing – he thought the ones who did were hyenas— he knew it was still good to laugh.

"Hey Seto?" Yami said after he yawned. His eyes were already half-closed and he had moved closer to the brunet. Seto figured Yami was cold. He was thinner than him and he refused to stay under the blanket for some reason, and for that Seto wordlessly wrapped his arm around Yami and pulled him closer.

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad we're friends."

What Yami was thinking to lead him to that conclusion, Seto didn't bother to figure out. For the record, Seto was glad they were, too. He never managed to say that, however, for when he looked down and swept Yami's yellow-gold bangs to the side, he saw that his friend had already fallen asleep.

With nothing else to distract him, Seto started to get sleepy as well. And he was already on the way to the place where dreams were better than reality when he felt his father's shadow. His father had just come home, obviously, and the man was also obviously tired. But he was smiling, his blue eyes rich with a fondness that he normally reserved for Seto's mother. Seto's father was always working; always in the city, employed in a big company that didn't give him as much free time as Seto would want him to have. Yet he always went home and always greeted his son a good night. Made sure he was tucked safely in bed, with the warm blankets over him to protect him from the cold. Seto wasn't sickly, and had once gotten annoyed at the protectiveness of his father. Like most living creatures, however, humans – and most specifically, Seto – were conditioned to adjust and he had gotten used to his father's protective, albeit smothering, ways.

"Your mother tells me you've met a new friend," was his father's way of saying 'I'm glad you're getting along with someone in the neighbourhood finally.' His father was even looking at Yami when he said that, before he met his son's eyes. "She tells me he's our neighbour."

"He is. And he's the coolest person I've ever met. The other kids are stupid," Seto huffed. Yami had shivered and burrowed closer. "They were hurting him when I saw him first. I wanted to run after them but they weren't worth my time."

"I'm sure you're going to be a politician someday, son," his father dryly said. And Seto grinned. He loved his father's wry humour. It made him feel unlike a child who didn't know any better. It made him feel like he was his father's equal. "I'll be sure to vote for you though, I promise."

"That's not yet doable until a couple of years, Dad. Really, are you that happy in getting rid of me already?" Seto quipped before his father chuckled and ruffled his hair fondly.

"Well, you are a pain when you choose to be."

"But Dad, isn't that why you love me so much?"

His father only laughed and kissed him on the forehead.

"How an eleven-year old can respond tete-a-tete like that, I have no idea. Good night, Seto."

Seto smiled and snuggled closer to his friend. The blanket was over the both of them and his father had closed the flap of the tent. Good night indeed.

This was in June.

-o-o-o-o-o-

On the last week of June, Seto met Yugi Mutou for the first time. It was Yami's fault, really, because apparently Yami didn't tell him they would have to babysit his younger brother until his mother came home from work. It was summer break after all, so there was nothing wrong in doing that. A lot of kids surely took care of their younger siblings, especially when the adults were busy with work. Seto honesty didn't mind. But making Yami a bit guilty about simply dropping things like 'responsibility' and 'have-to's' was a price his friend had to pay. Seto didn't like being surprised. Even if Yugi was as adorable as younger brothers often were.

"What are you doing?" Yugi asked. Yugi was four and a half years old. He looked almost like his older brother, except that he had the gentlest violet eyes that Seto's never seen before. He was also a whole lot nicer than Yami, truthfully. But Yami was more interesting, so there's the breakeven, he guessed. Right now, 'what he was doing' was he was colouring the page of robots Yugi had given him. Seto recognized the robots to be the Transformers ones he's seen on TV recently. Maybe Yugi had potential in being cool after all.

"I'm colouring this robot black," Seto answered. He didn't know where Yami was, and his friend was supposed to be back by now. He better be because Seto wasn't geared to entertain younger kids anyway. Way too impatient, or rough. Yugi's eyes widened comically as if he's done something bad against the universe.

"You-you can't do that, Seto!"

"Why not? It's my page. I can colour it any way I want to," he muttered.

"Seto, that's Bumblebee!"

"Yeah, so? It's still my page."

"Bumblebee's—" Yugi didn't know the name of the colour he was referring to obviously. He was, however, resourceful and snatched the yellow crayon, "—this colour and the one you're holding. Not just all of that!"

"Says you. If I want Bumblebee to be black, I can make him black. It's still my page, Yugi," Seto responded. Like his mother's said, he was very stubborn. Emphasis on very.

"Are you honestly arguing with a four-year old? Seriously, Seto?"

Yami was amused.

Seto mock-glared before giving up. He gave Yugi back the page before meeting his friend's gaze. Yami was carrying a grocery bag which contained ingredients for cooking and some stuff Seto didn't pay attention to. They haven't had lunch yet. Was that what Yami was going to do? Make lunch?

"I didn't know you can cook," he pointed out. Yami nodded.

"I don't. Mother left me the list of ingredients she'll need later."

"But—" that didn't make sense. How were they going to eat? He was hungry.

Then Yami grinned. And Seto felt like an idiot again.

"You were messing with me!"

And there, that rich, light-hearted sound. That was the sound of Yami's laugh, and despite feeling slightly betrayed for being the joke this time around, Seto had to grin proudly. He did that. Even though it was at his expense, he thought belatedly.

"I'm glad to have served as your clown then," he said, pouting as he stared at Yugi who was concentrating on his colouring that he didn't notice the banter between the older boys. Yami wasn't going to let him go that easily, though, for he had walked towards him and offered him a bar of chocolate. Seto was suspicious. He felt like Yami was bribing him with chocolate, taking advantage of the universal truth that was Seto's sweet tooth.

"I'm sorry. I bought you this, though. I really didn't intend to make fun of you. You're my friend," Yami apologized. Seto internally thought his neighbour didn't have to bother with saying them out loud. "If it's any consolation, we're actually not going to cook. We're going to grill some hamburgers."

"But we don't have hamburger patties..." Seto eyed him warily, like one would a clown who had his hands in his pockets, "... do we?"

Yami grinned. Immediately Seto felt a sense of foreboding.

"Be right back," the other boy said happily. His grin, no matter how 'trustworthy' Yami claimed himself to be, was conspicuously evil and Seto wasn't going to believe his friend didn't have a diabolical plan in his mind.

Yami went to the kitchen, carrying the groceries. There were a lot of rummaging to be heard, as well as opening and closing of refrigerator and cabinet doors. For a minute, Seto had considered lowering his guard down a notch, thinking Yami wasn't feeling particularly villainous that day, until Yami came out with a tray of—Was that raw ground meat?

"Yami?"

"Yeah?"

"What the hell is that?" His voice didn't break. He didn't squeak. The slightly high-pitched sound didn't come from him, and even if it did, it still wasn't a squeak. But was that their food? Where were the hamburgers? What was going on?

Yami laughed and shooed a curious Yugi away. Made him take the colouring book and the crayons to the living room while he and "Seto prepare lunch, okay?"

While the younger Mutou obediently followed his brother's orders and ran to the next room, Seto quite visibly winced and stared at him with a blatantly helpless look. Which Yami laughed at. That prat.

"It's meat, Seto. Completely and utterly powerless meat, if you may as well know," Yami said. He was amused, Seto could see at least and he scowled even more. Yami snorted at his attempt, unfazed, as he went to the sink to wash his hands—apparently a deliberate attempt at ignoring Seto's mulish behaviour. "Of course you're bound to realize that the raw meat which you're actually staring disgustedly at the moment is still our lunch."

Seto hesitated, torn between helping out and suggesting ordering pizza instead, before he looked up. This was not going to be good.

"I don't know what to do with that," he confessed, his eyes falling on the tray of meat. Were they supposed to use gloves to touch that thing? Were they even supposed to touch it in the first place?

"Seto, you idiot. Of course I'll teach you. And yes, before you ask out loud, we need to touch it so we can mould it into patties. Now come on."

This was what Seto Kaiba remembered of the entire affair: the sticky feel of meat in his hands, his grimace and Yami's voice dropping one note as he knowingly instructed Seto in the proper making of patties, Seto's own desire to make them perfectly just so he could gloat after, and the smug satisfaction of actually seeing the by-product after their efforts. It was the pride in Yami's eyes and the unending amusement as he winced and concentrated on his task, as if the meat was akin to solving Math problems. When he finally grilled what they have made, his first try... Seto would never forget that, too.

While Yami prepared the rest of their meal, Seto went back inside, the sweet Yami gave him in his pocket. He saw Yugi on the carpet, on his stomach and drawing something Seto couldn't name. Instead of distracting the obviously busy boy, Seto tapped Yugi. Yugi looked up.

"Want some? Your brother bought it," Seto offered. He figured he must be nice to Yami's younger brother. He was very protective of him, he thought. Yugi glanced at Yami, who finally went in as well, first, shyly asking for permission and at Yami's curt nod, nodded as well. With a smirk, Seto cut the bar of chocolate in three, giving a block to Yugi and offering the other one to Yami – who didn't seem to be expecting that because he was staring at it. Seto laughed. "It's just chocolate. It's not going to eat you. You're supposed to be the one doing the eating."

Yami stuck his tongue out before accepting it, a heartfelt thanks leaving his lips as soon as he had the sweet in his own hands.

Several minutes later, lunch was prepared and Yami and Seto were seated with Yugi at the dinner table. The hamburgers were in front of them and although they weren't completely char-free, because Yami smugly announced that he could make better ones right before saying he was still going to eat Seto's first ever cooked meal, Seto still felt his pride soar.

As if in mock anxiety, Yami nibbled on his share and met Seto's eyes, smiling. He made a play of chewing it rather exaggeratingly, before downing it with water. Seto didn't know why he waited for Yami's comment. He already knew it wasn't the best. He didn't need patronizing. And with that thought, a frown appeared on his face. Which Yami noticed because he shook his head and laughed lightly.

"It's not the best, but it's the best you can make considering it's your first. I'm glad you grilled them today, Seto," Yami earnestly said. He didn't meet Seto's eyes but he was eating his share. That said something.

Seto guessed with that gesture, he would have to forgive Yami (again). He found he didn't mind. Yami was fun and funny in his own weird way. But there was no way–absolutely not! –that Yami was going to get away that easily.

"The things I do for you!" Seto remarked.

Somehow his statement felt like it meant a lot more than food.

-o-o-o-o-o-

They were playing in his backyard when they heard adults arguing from Yami's house. Yami had looked up, eyes dimming a bit with a realization of what was going on, before sighing, as if he was accustomed to it. Seto quieted, waiting for the other boy to say something. To quip about the inanities of being an adult, or something similar. But when it didn't come, he grew worried.

"Will your mother be okay?" He asked, catching Yami's attention. A mild success considering how distracted Yami was lately. Yami took his time in answering, as if weighing his options, before nodding ever so slightly.

"She always is."

Maybe it was what Yami knew Seto wanted to hear. Maybe Yami was merely accustomed to lying and pretending things were better off as he played them to be. For whatever reason, Seto was unnerved when three days later they saw the man that usually stayed in Yami's house leave, suitcase in hand and a snarl on his face. Yami's mother had changed after that.

Yami refused to talk about it. Seto didn't dare bring the topic up.

-o-o-o-o-o-

In September, five days before classes began, an old man knocked on Yami's front door. Yugi, who was lying on the carpet on his stomach and drawing with Seto, immediately shouted in glee and ran for the door. Yami's brother was a ball of constant action. Sometimes he'd do nothing but run in circles until the world spun and make him collapse on his feet. Yami would neutralize the energy with paper and crayons, grinning smugly every time his brother would (expectedly) run towards him to grab it. Yugi liked to draw, as much as he liked watching Transformers on TV, and as much as he liked the sweets Seto would sneakily give him. But Seto noticed, as Yami got out of the kitchen and answered the front door, that Yugi also liked the elderly man who was waiting outside.

"GRANDPA!"

For a four-year old, it was difficult to comprehend why you don't see the people you love every day. Why they had to go away, or why they couldn't be with you all the time. It was difficult to notice the aging process and how they fell for its charm; how they couldn't simply be as fast as you are. But for a toddler, seeing the people you don't see every day was a novelty that never fades. It was a lot like opening presents on Christmas morning, the lack of knowledge about what the gifts were driving the sleepiness away.

Yugi, Seto realized, didn't see his grandfather every day. And apparently their grandfather didn't see them just as much, as well.

"Hello, my dear boy. Why, you've grown!"

Grandpa had hair like Yami's and Yugi's, only greyer and definitely lacking other shades of colour that were characteristic of the brothers. He was just a couple of inches taller than Seto, and he had a mischievous in him that was evident in his eyes. He met Seto's gaze and curtly nodded in recognition—it was his gesture of saying hello—before his eyes alighted on his older grandson.

"Yami, come greet your grandfather," Grandpa beckoned.

"Have you had a safe trip, Grandpa?" Yami asked, wrapping his arms around the older man. "Mom didn't tell me you were visiting. This is Seto, by the way. He's my friend."

"Is he now?" The elderly man looked at him, as if calculating his worth. And Seto didn't feel insulted, or ashamed. He wasn't going to feel awkward just because of that – it made him feel proud that he was Yami's friend.

"Pleasure to meet you, sir," Seto greeted cordially. But whatever semblance of formality Seto tried to portray was quashed as soon as Grandpa Mutou, in his characteristic lack of understanding of personal space, pulled him into an embrace as well.

Actions spoke louder than words, and it seemed to Seto that he just had passed some initiation. Seeing Yami's smile beyond Grandpa's shoulder was worth it, however, and that was that.

TBC