I've always thought that Seto and Joey are basically the same character.

The only reason they butt heads so much is because of how, and when, they met.

This chapter is my proof.

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Noa learned, early on, that his brother sometimes did things that seemed utterly arbitrary; asking for an explanation made things clearer only sixty percent of the time. So, when Seto randomly veered off the beaten path on the way home from school one day, Noa didn't bother asking what it was he thought he was doing, but simply followed behind.

For a while, at least.

Eventually, Noa had to ask: "Do you . . . know where you're going?"

Seto grunted. "I used to come to this neighborhood a lot, before . . . everything."

Noa looked around, took note of the state of their surroundings, and things started to make sense. They were walking into just the sort of neighborhood that Noa didn't visit, because he knew he wasn't wanted here. His parents didn't come around this part of Domino, either; they rarely—if ever—had business here.

But Seto had grown up in a working-class family.

The Yagamis had been a staunchly blue-collar clan, and so it only stood to reason that Seto would have spent his childhood in the part of the city that his parents could afford to live in. The sidewalks were cracked over with weeds; the lawns were dead or overgrown; even the nicest homes were small and well over sixty years old. They could hear an alarm off in the distance; while Noa wondered what might be happening, and found himself worried, Seto looked . . . bored.

Noa had never felt so out of place in his life.

The fact that Seto didn't, even though they were both wearing the same starched and ironed school uniform, was something Noa couldn't quite puzzle out.

The two brothers eventually found themselves sitting on a pair of old swings, directly in the middle of an even older playground. Noa pushed himself using his cane, while Seto sat and stared off at nothing. Noa said, eventually: "Did you and Mokuba used to come here?"

Seto nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Mokie likes these swings. He likes anything that makes him go up high. He thinks elevators are theme park rides."

Noa smiled. "I think, one of these days, we ought to take him to a real theme park. He'd have a great time." He held up his cane and gestured with it. "Roller coasters, Ferris wheels, those giant towers that climb up all slow and then drop." He smacked the ground with the rubber cap on the bottom of his cane. "I . . . don't like those. But if Mokuba likes going up high, he'd probably love them." He turned to look at Seto. "What about you? Have you been to a theme park?"

"I've been to Disneyland once," Seto said. "I don't remember much about it, but Mama had a photo album with Mickey Mouse on it."

Noa nodded. "Hahaue took me to Disney World. The big one, out in Florida. Chichiue didn't come with us." He tilted his head to one side. "I don't know if you've worked this out yet, but Chichiue isn't the kind of person who's into . . . frivolous fun."

"Shocking, truly," Seto said with a blank look. "I think he mentioned in an interview on CNN once. He plays chess because it puts him in the mind for war strategy. It doesn't have anything to do with, I mean, y'know . . . playing a game."

Noa nodded again. "Yeah."

"What about you?" Seto asked. "Do you play games?"

Noa frowned. "I guess . . . not? I've never really had anybody to play games with. Hahaue doesn't really play anything like that. Chichiue taught me chess, but the only people who ever played that with me were my old tutors. I'm pretty sure they only ever did that 'cuz they thought they had to."

"They were being paid to be with you," Seto said.

"Yeah, exactly." It was Noa's turn to stare off quietly at nothing for a moment. "You like games, though, don't you, Seto?"

"I mean. Yeah. Sure."

"What kinds of games do you play? Other than chess, I mean."

Seto reached into a pocket and pulled out a slim stack of trading cards. "I keep these for luck," he said. "I'd like to get hold of enough to build a proper deck, but I haven't . . . gotten around to it." He showed the cards to his brother. "It's called Magic & Wizards. The cards represent monsters, soldiers, other creatures like that; but there's also magic and traps. The idea is to fight against another wizard—player—using a combination of soldiers and spells. I guess this game also involves war strategy, but it's flashier. Less austere than chess is."

"Huh." Noa took the offered cards and looked over them. "The art is pretty god. I like this one." He held up a monster card depicting a hydra. "It looks like you've got . . . what, twenty or so cards here? How many do you need?"

"Forty," Seto said, "is the minimum for a standard deck."

"So, eighty. If you wanted to have another deck for someone else to play against you."

Seto nodded. "Yeah."

Noa hummed as he handed Seto's cards back. "I'll talk to Hahaue. You should be able to play a game you like. That's what games are for. Besides, you saved my butt back at school. I think you should get something out of that."

"I don't need to be rewarded for that," Seto said.

"I know that," Noa agreed, "but that doesn't mean you shouldn't get one."

"Oi."

Noa jumped; Seto didn't. They both turned at the same time, Noa nervously and Seto suspiciously, watching as a blond boy approached them from the other side of the park. He was dressed in frayed shorts and a faded graphic tee; his shoes were barely held-together. He had his hands stuffed into his pockets, and he looked altogether surly.

The blond boy looked like he was of an age with them, possibly a few months older.

"Can we help you?" Seto asked, testily.

The blond boy gestured.

"You play?"

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Noa watched, dumbfounded and spell-struck, as his brother sat cross-legged on the grass and looked over the blond boy's cards. His name was Joey, and he'd recently come across some. He had no idea what to do with them; he claimed to not have a head for strategy games, and he hadn't had anyone to ask.

"See, you put this card down first," Seto was saying, "and that means you can play this card next turn without a tribute."

Joey, sitting on his heels, watched raptly. He was fully enthralled, and he hadn't said a word in nearly ten minutes. Eventually he pointed. "How 'bout this one?" he asked hopefully.

Seto launched into an explanation that Noa had no hope of understanding, but Joey was nodding along and grunting like he was following easily. Gone was the gruff, standoffish street kid; in his place was a boy desperate for companionship who'd finally found someone willing to talk to him.

Noa thought he understood.

Seto never seemed like a social butterfly, but something about his time with Mokuba made him good at engaging with other kids, even if he didn't realize it himself.

He sat back and spread his hands out. "And there you go. Got it?"

Joey looked at Seto with wide eyes.

"Absolutely not."