A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry I haven't updated or added any more stories lately but I have been really really busy. I hope you guys like this new story. It's about the earlier life of Seto when he lived with Gozuboro. Read on my young adventurers!

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was a day all the same. The usual light clouds hung over the roof topped sky. The children were locked in their houses, hidden away from the storm. Stempleton didn't usually see rain, but this was no ordinary summer. Lightning struck the sky and thunder rumbled through the moist atmosphere. Rain started to fall leaving the suffocated air finally able to breath. The rain hit the shingles of the rooftops with such force that the paint started to wash away into the mist slowly rising above the lake.

"Please, stop! I'm sorry I won't do it again. I promise!"

This was the voice of the young Seto Kaiba. His stepfather was putting him through his weekly "lessons" that sometimes come daily.

"Are you smart mouthin me boy?" Gozuboro spat.

Gozuboro had adopted Seto and Mokuba over a lousy game of chess. Poor Seto. He thought he would be living the life, but he's been in Hell since his foot touched the doorsill of this horrid place.

Mokuba didn't have it bad, but he didn't have it good either. He was fed and had a room and clothes but was constantly tortured by the deathly shrieks his brother gave off every time he was struck. Today Seto was in trouble for making a scuffmark on the tile.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Seto tried not to cry. He tried not to scream for he didn't want his younger brother to hear. The task was indefinitely impossible, even for Seto who had trained himself to hide every feeling he had from the public and the rest of the world.

Gozuboro struck again simultaneously with the lightning. He was using his favorite tool, an army knife. Gozuboro believed that you could teach self discipline by suffering a scar for each crime you have committed. Seto's suffering and rebellion of his studies were thought of as "war crimes" and should be punished dearly for them. Right now he was using his slash technique. Slash a cut on the body deep enough to draw blood until felt necessary. Gozuboro thought slashing until Seto cried and begged and pleaded was almost close enough and then proceeded with a little punching bag material.

Gozuboro slapped Seto across the face as he pleaded for mercy. He gave him a swift kick to the stomach and a blow to the face and was fed up.

"Clean yourself up. You're getting blood on my carpet. And when you're done clean up this mess," he said kicking a piece of shattered glass.

"Yes, ssir," Seto stammered.

He could barely speak and it ached to breath. He tried to stand up holding his stomach but collapsed on the ground again. He was too weak, too tired, and too full of hatred that it weighed him down to do anything.

"I'll be out for a while so don't you dare call me," Gozuboro threatened as he walked upstairs to change.

"It's not like we would call you, you bastard," Seto thought to himself. "Last time Mokuba called you I got the blunt of it cause you were in some strip club fucking a whore. No, I don't think we'll call."

Seto stood up and walked to the bathroom. He opened up the mirror cabinet and got out the first aid kit. He wiped his wounds with alcohol, put bandages on his cuts, and wrapped his hand and stomach in gauze. He put the kit away and walked out of the bathroom switching off the light. He slumped down to the kitchen and collected the broom, dustpan, a scrub brush, and a soap bucket. He headed toward the dinning room where he ran into Mokuba.

"It's okay Seto. I'll clean it for you," Mokuba whispered.

"Thanks Mokie. I'm going to bed," Seto replied as he kissed his brother on the head and walked up the towering spiral staircase in the direction of his bedroom.