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KAIBA NICKNAME NOTE: Just a reminder that Ryuujin means Dragon King.

CHAPTER 22: ZEN AND THE ART OF MOTORCYCLE MAINTENANCE II

SUGOROKU'S POV

I was glad that Yugi and his friends were at the movies when Kaiba entered the room. He paused on the threshold, his tension drawing my eyes. Yami laid a hand on his shoulder, then withdrew it before Kaiba could throw it off. I realized Kaiba was in a T-Shirt. A black T-Shirt above dark blue sweat pants. On him, the bland outfit looked elegant.

He was slightly pale, even for him. Yami stood next to him in silent encouragement. I grinned to myself. Was that a bite mark peeking out of the collar of Kaiba's shirt?

It was only as he came closer that I noticed the burns, and my impulse to laugh, fled. There were four of them, round and deep. One at the bottom of each bicep, and two on his left forearm. Someone had mistaken his arms for an ashtray. I understood how difficult it must have been for him to enter the room; to reveal a secret he had spent his young life in concealing. He had done it to please Yami, and I understood the reason why Yami was standing so protectively at his side. "Come on, Ryuujin…" he whispered.

It was strange, I mused… they were both such ruthless, driven people… and yet they were so careful with each other. So loving, although I doubted Kaiba would recognize the word their actions illustrated.

But my face was as expressionless as Kaiba's as I said, "So terrible boy, I didn't know you owned something as ordinary as a T-Shirt and sweatpants."

He smirked, my taunt steadying him as nothing else could have. "Not quite ordinary. Mine are custom made."

Mokuba smiled at our exchange. Of course he must have seen his brother's arms before; was old enough to understand the significance of those marks. But for once, Kaiba had forgotten Kouma, until we heard his gasp. He reached out to touch the burn on Kaiba's forearm asking in a shaking voice, "When did this happen?"

I saw Seto fold his own arms defensively. Unlike Kaiba, he dressed with defiant casualness. The only preference the two versions seemed to share was a taste for heavy belts. Seto's was ornamented with a huge silver dragon buckle. But the neat vest and slacks he had arrived in, had been instantly replaced by baggy jeans with the knees torn out. And his T-Shirts were always over-sized – the sleeves hanging far below the elbows. He usually had on a black denim jacket for good measure. I had assumed it was a fad. Now, I wondered for how long he had been hiding himself from Kouma.

Kaiba smiled and knelt down so that he was at eye level with his littler, little brother. "Remember I told you that penalty games are a way to learn to be perfect? Well, look… it's a circle – the only perfect shape. See, it's 360 degrees – just like a baseball diamond – but no corners. Any hint of a corner, and it's not a circle. And every point on the edge has to be the same exact distance from the middle. Pretty cool, huh?" he looked at Yami, "Sometimes I need a reminder not to make mistakes."

Kourma laughed as he hugged him, saying, "You never make mistakes. You are perfect – my perfect big brother."

Kaiba smiled, but I saw him flinch at the unintentional reminder of his shortcomings, as I am sure he did not at the making of the scar. As Kouma ran off smiling, Seto came up to Kaiba and said in rare acknowledgement, "Good catch."

"I've had five more years of practice at lying to Mokuba than you."

But unnoticed by the older pair, Mokuba had gone up to Kourma, and in an equally rare show of affection, had given the younger boy a hug, saying, in unconscious imitation, "You did good. You distracted him. And even if he doesn't agree, you made him feel better." Kouma beamed up at him, nodding.

I was reminded that for all the elder Kaiba's reputation, Mokuba had always been by far the more deceptive of the brothers.

KAIBA'S POV

I wasn't worried that Mokuba and Seto seemed to disappear for a couple of hours a day. I knew Mokuba was as safe with Seto as with me. But I was… curious. I knew Mokuba thought he owed Seto; he thought he owed me. He was wrong. But having tried to teach Mokuba that the one thing that defined a man was his ability to stand by his promises, I had no right to object, now. Mokuba was old enough to decide for himself what his obligations were and how to fulfill them.

If I had thought about it, I would have known where they were. But I had never expected Mokuba to like Seto. So I was surprised to find them at the motorcycle track. At my track – which was much too big and tough for either of them. I hadn't forbidden Mokuba to try it. I knew it was too tempting; that sooner or later its lure would overpower his common sense. But looking at them – at Mokuba's placating face; at Seto's defiant one – I knew who was to blame.

Although I understood; although I wasn't mad – that didn't mean I wasn't going to yell. But three things got in the way of a really satisfying explosion. First: one of the guilty parties was Mokuba. Second: Yami was with me. Third (and most important): I had Kouma clinging to my back as I arrived at the track in a cloud of dust.

There were limits to how loudly I could scream at the little viper for luring Mokuba on to the track, when I had the even younger version up behind me on the back of my own bike.

And I didn't need Yami as an audience, enjoying my dilemma.

I had taught Yami to ride. He was on the same motorcycle I had learned on when I was 15. It was black, with four plumes of silver smoke on the sides – one for each of the four dragons I'd hoped to capture. It was a little too flashy for me now, and way too small. I had grown about a foot since then. It's a good thing Yami was such a shrimp. I could have bought him a motorcycle of his own, of course; a newer model. But I liked the fact he was using mine; I liked the idea of him warmed by my dragons' breath – even if there was one plume of smoke too many.

I figured it wouldn't be too hard to teach him. After all, he must have ridden horses in Egypt. How much different could this be? Not that I had ever been on a horse. Not that I planned to admit that. (I bet the priest had been a champion rider, whatever else he had fucked up.) All of which was distracting me from my brother and the punk – both of whom were clearly waiting for me to explode.

It was odd seeing them standing next to each other… the same size… the same age… their arms around each other's shoulders. They weren't just brothers. Somehow, they had become… friends. I would cheerfully die for Mokuba, but I don't know if you could say that made us friends. There was the five year age gap for one thing… although that was narrowing every day. I looked at them, and for the first time I was sorry Seto wouldn't remember any of this. I would have to remember it for him.

That didn't mean I didn't have a few choice words for him, first. I opened my mouth, but Mokuba spoke first. He knew I wasn't really angry, and that he wouldn't have been the target anyway – but he jumped in to defend the little punk.

"I wanted to try it out, Nisama. You know that," he said.

Seto reacted immediately. "That's a joke. He never had an idea in his head that I didn't put there first. He went along with what I wanted, just like always."

"No I didn't."

"You did."

"Didn't."

"Did!"

This was actually getting pretty funny. But the years since Gozaburo's death must have mellowed us both more than I had thought, because neither Mokuba nor I noticed Seto's growing agitation until he exploded. Until he shoved Mokuba in the dirt, yelling, "Shut up! Who said you could talk?" He turned to me. "Even you couldn't be stupid enough to think that a weakling like him has any influence over me!"

Great. Let's air all our family laundry. Not that I cared. If Yami hadn't figured out exactly how fucked up we were by now, he was never going to. And I didn't have to be the picture of mental health to be good in bed. Which was probably the extent of our connection, anyway. (It's not like he had ever said a word that indicated he wanted or felt more than that.)

Not that it mattered. Seto was the immediate problem. There was no telling how far he might go in an effort to convince Gozaburo's ghost just how little he cared about Mokuba.

I didn't blame Seto. If anything, I relaxed at the reminder that even this late in the game, he was still putting Mokuba first. Then he turned, shoved me and yelled. "I'm going to use this track whenever I want. You can't control me, and you know it."

Although I understood, I can't say I appreciated being cast as Gozaburo's understudy in this little drama. But at least I knew what Seto needed. And it would be my pleasure.

SETO'S POV

His backhand lifted me off the ground. His next blow had me sprawled in the dirt. His words followed… harsh… cutting… comforting… calming. "I know exactly who's to blame. I know it's your fault. Why would I blame the mouse, when I have you?"

Shit.

Old habits die hard. The words were Gozaburo's, but the voice was Kaiba's; the voice was mine. I had forgotten where I was. I had forgotten when I was. I had forgotten everything but my need to protect Mokuba – whether from my misdeeds or his own had never mattered. After all, Gozaburo wanted me alive. Mokuba had no such guarantee.

But Gozaburo was dead. And Kaiba had turned his formal gardens into a motorcycle track.

Yami was looking from Kaiba to me like I had given him a piece of a puzzle, and he was trying to decide where it fit. But he was also looking concerned – and that pissed me off. He had no right to look at me as though he cared, when I wasn't the one he was fucking.

At least I didn't have to listen to them banging each other. Kaiba had soundproofed his room and installed monitors so that he could still listen for nightmares. He had been decent enough to connect Mokuba's room to mine, so that I could still tell when Mokuba was having one of his now-infrequent nightmares; so I could hear Kaiba easing him back into sleep. In fairness, I kept the volume down too low to hear what they were saying. I was pleased that nothing, not even Yami's powerful presence could keep him from Mokuba's side (either one), but the sight of him in my room, sweaty, in a hastily donned pair of pants, patiently singing lullabies to Kouma, disturbed me. It made me feel like a kid… like a dumb, stupid, kid… who was a lot more than five years away from experiencing the same thing.

Now Yami was looking at me like he cared, when he wasn't even expecting a payoff, at least not from me. I didn't have to take that shit. Not from him.

"What's your problem, Red Eyes? Stop looking like you feel sorry for me – or I'll give you something to feel sorry about!" I snarled.

I was trying to get him mad. I bet he had a temper, though I'd never seen it. But he just gave me that maddening half smile of his and said, "In five more years, you'll learn to express yourself more elegantly… but the sentiments will remain the same. As does my answer: I'm not offering you pity, but respect."

His response left me wondering how many times we were going to have this little exchange in the next five years. Apparently often enough that Kaiba just ignored him, saying, "As long as we're here, we might as well ride."

It wasn't a race. Yami was setting himself to learn the course. They were clearly going to be back later, racing all out. I could have figured that out, even if I hadn't heard their exchange…

"I'm ready to take you on for real," Yami said.

"Just so long as you're ready to pay off when you lose." Kaiba replied with a grin.

"You're gloating before the match is over again, Blue Eyes. It's a habit I look forward to breaking you of," Yami purred.

"Any time you think you can take me, you're welcome to try," Kaiba responded, his low voice, even lower.

When I saw Yami's smirk, part of me wanted to challenge him myself. When I heard his seductive drawl, part of me wondered how much Kaiba would mind losing….

It wasn't a race. Kaiba had Kouma with him, and that was making him cautious. And I was damned if I was going to be any less responsible with my Mokuba than he was with his.

It wasn't a race. It didn't matter who won or lost. It shouldn't have been fun – but it was. Anything with Mokuba and Kouma was fun. And Yami was good to look at… in a sleeveless shirt, his arms straining to control the motorcycle; his ass lifting off the seat at times. He must have been stronger than he looked. I liked that.

But if I liked Kaiba's boy toy, I liked his hog as much; wasn't sure which one I'd rather have under me. Not that it seemed like I was going to get near either, anytime soon. But for once I was wrong. Not that Kaiba was passing around Yami. But after ignoring me most of the afternoon (not that I wanted his notice), he pulled up in front of me, cutting me off, and slid Kouma off his motorcycle.

He looked at me. His lips twitched. It was the closest either of us usually got to a smile. "Okay, viper… if you think you can refrain from sinking your fangs into my back, climb on, and I'll show you what it's like to fly."

By the time we had finished a lap, there was one thing I was sure of: Yami could call himself the King of Games (whatever the hell that was) all he wanted. When it came to motorcycles, I hoped he liked whatever Kaiba had in mind. Yami was going down.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: At Alcatraz, when Yami tries to explain to Kaiba that there skills are equal, he yells at him, "Are you daring to offer me pity?" And Yami kind of sighs and says that he's trying to tell him that he admires his skills as a duelist. But I think mistaking affection or friendship (the title of the episode is 'Becoming Friends') for pity is a mistake that Kaiba would make. As he regards any kind of self-revelation, or relying on others for anything, especially emotional support as a weakness, being offered, as he sees it Yami's pity must seem like the ultimate insult.

Clothes Note: By the time that Seto was 13, the vest and pants from the orphanage, had been replaced by the white uniform/suit he was wearing at Death-T. But since Seto was running away at the start of the story, I figured he'd opt for something less noticeable than that white suit. Also since he was trying to escape the person he saw himself becoming, I thought he'd reject the outfit connected with Gozaburo for the type of clothes he'd worn prior to his arrival at the mansion.

RESPONSES TO REVIEWS:

Note: questions on the future, will answered when they come up in the future.

Seto and Kaiba: (AmunRa, Anonymous, Clarity, Desidera, KakyoTheStickInTheMud, Nachzes-Black Rider, QueenOfGames2) Anger and a certain amount of dislike would be part of their feelings towards each other, because it's part of their feelings about themselves. But, while Kaiba is angry at Seto, for the acts he's about to commit (and I agree, since it's in the past, its acts he has no choice but to commit), he also understands Seto better than anyone, and almost in spite of himself can't resist giving him pointers on how to cope with his surroundings, and trying to give him experiences that he can remember wanting very badly to have. To a certain extend, each version is looking for signs that the other is human, but then being disturbed when they find them.

Seto does resent Kaiba. More than anyone, except possibly Mokuba, Seto realizes how damaged Kaiba became in his battle with Gozaburo – and I think he'd see that as a weakness. I also think he'd be resentful and jealous of the things he sees Kaiba as having that he doesn't – and that includes Yami. How Seto feels about Kaiba… how Kaiba and Yami's relationship effects him… are an ongoing part of the story.

Jounouchi: (AmunRa, Anonymous, Clarity, Desidera, Psyche, QueenOfGames2) I wanted to include a snapshot of Yami and Kaiba's relationship at this point, as seen by an outside voice. I think a lot of Kaiba and Jounochi's dislike of each other is based on the things they recognize in and about each other. At the start of the manga, Jounouchi is a bully, pure and simple. I think he must remind Kaiba of the bullies that picked on Mokuba at the orphanage. And I think Kaiba, who's paid a heavy price to be more than, as he put it in the anime, "a atray dog from the gutter," would look down on Jounouchi as an example of all he left behind. I think Jounouchi sees all his worst faults… his anger, his destructiveness… magnified in Kaiba. And I could also see him feeling like Kaiba, with his money and power is pretending to be "better" than the rest of them. And I think they would both be reluctant to admit that although they are both right about the other one's past – they are equally off base in refusing to see how the other one has grown.

Seto's clothes: (Anonymous, QueenOfGames2) This was something I put in almost unconsciously. I just kept seeing Seto in these outfits. And it wasn't until I got your review that I realized – of course – Seto would wear them at least partly because he knows how much they bug Kaiba.

Fight: (AmunRa,Desidera, Kekewey, Mistal: The Poisoned One, Nachzes-Black Rider, Psyche, QueenOfGames2, Yume no Zencho) This was another scene that sort of popped into my head. I meant it to be funny, at least in part, and it was a blast to try and choreograph. It struck me how isolated Seto's life has been in some ways, and how many things that the Yugi-taachi take for granted that he never got to experience. I wanted to show that, and I thought that someone as into martial arts as Seto probably had never been to a Jackie Chan movie – because I don't suppose Gozaburo took him – illustrated that.

Atemu and Priest Seto: (Nachzes-Black Rider) In this story I see Atemu and Seto as having been lovers in the past, but not as having been in love. I see them more as friends and comrades who were also lovers. Yami talks about his feelings for the two versions in Chapter 17, and it comes up later in the story. By the way, I loved the description of Kaiba as burningice, and Yami as frozen fire – that was so cool!

Thanks to babymar-mar and Seto's Darkness – I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Thanks for letting me know.