No help is ever truly forgotten. Everyone always told you—people, movies, even advertisements—about karma, and how even the slightest bit of kindness will return to you eventually. Boomerang effect. That’s what they call it. In the real world, it was not that easy to believe in this. Maybe it's due to how peaceful it was. Most people lived in safety and comfort, shielded by the walls of their houses and warmed up by food in their stomachs. Nobody truly cares about something deep concerning others. They can smile and help you carry your bag, but how many would actually rush to you when you need it the most at the worst times? When you simply need someone to be there, next to you?

In Borderlands, it was anything but an ordinary existence. It wasn't nearly as living at all—everything that you knew and were used to is now gone or completely and utterly useless. Money, electricity, internet, and fresh fruits that you can buy by walking two minutes into the nearest store. Now you have to survive along with hundreds of strangers. Could they be trusted now even more, in the hope they understand how equally important your life is, or is it better to cover your back from them, knowing what awful deeds humankind is prone to when they are trying to grasp onto their last breath—or worse, when they're simply driven by fear?

You helped her once. Just one single time in the game, which unfortunately became the place of your first ever meeting. It is not a pleasant realization to know that you got to know such a sweet, strong girl somewhere where people passed away—where you could, too, and where you nearly did. It was nothing nearly romantic or dramatic. It was sweat, violence, and your heart doing cartwheels from adrenaline tearing on your blood vessels. Even by risking your own safety, you covered her up and even helped with her small yet nonetheless important injury that, just like any other, can affect your chances of winning in these games.

Boomerang effect. That’s what they call it.

The rain was mercilessly pouring down on the ground, hitting the pavement, the roofs of the cars, and whatever it could reach, including you with your ugly-looking wound. The red was flowing down your leg in a river, mixed with the cold water the grumpy clouds had given. Any other time it would be refreshing, especially in summer, which can get rather ruthless in Japan, where you live—and currently are—though in its cursed version.. Yet now, you wished for some shelter, a med kit, and preferably, a soup.

Apparently, Gods—or whatever tyrant that is putting you through this hell—heard your wish. Even with all the natural noise, your ears still caught the approaching footsteps, and soon, a familiar face came into view.

Usagi, holding a transparent umbrella above her head, looks at you with an unreadable expression. Something heavy, understanding and accepting, and yet still almost solemn.

"Do you have anywhere to go?" The answer would be obvious, considering you are sitting outside, under what you could find to save yourself from getting soaked. "Can you walk?"

Usagi doesn't make attachments. She's not supposed to—not here, where it costs too much. But she decides that she can't leave you here. Not only because it's fair, but because it's right. No matter if you both regret it in the end. The moment your eyes met and she knew what needed to be done, she realized it was inevitable.

"Here, eat." She places the bowl in front of you. It's too fresh to be good, but it's real, even the steam that can be faintly seen rising upwards from it is also not a part of your imagination. "I disinfected your leg, but you should refrain from participating in the games for a few days. You still have enough days on your visa, right?"

Everything between you for now was rather...quiet, and straight to the point. You're not sure if it's good or bad, but at least she's helping and even feeding your poor ass now, which is basically heaven, for Borderlands.