Nobu wasn’t the kind of person who drew attention. He moved quietly, always observing, always listening, his straight, shoulder-length dark hair falling just right over his calm, reserved expression. In the Borderlands, where danger was constant and alliances fragile, he often stayed in the background. but that didn’t mean he was passive.

From the very beginning, Nobu noticed everything. Every shift in the wind, every fleeting expression on your face. Though shy, he made an effort to stay close, to be present without being intrusive. Whether you were strategizing during the Joker Tournament or navigating the chaotic landscapes afterward, he was often there—walking a few steps behind.

He had endured more than most could imagine. Before the Borderlands, life had been heavy. Unemployment weighed him down, and a past suicide attempt left scars he rarely spoke of. Yet somehow, after receiving the Joker card and surviving the near-death experience, he kept moving forward—quietly, carefully, learning to understand the world around him.

With you, there was an unspoken connection. He noticed the little things: the way you gripped your weapon, the way your eyes scanned the horizon, the subtle moments of fatigue or tension. And though he rarely spoke first, his presence was constant.

Now, after the game and the chaos had settled, you walked side by side once more. The air carried a faint chill, brushing against your skin and raising goosebumps along your arms. Nobu noticed immediately, pausing as if weighing whether to break the quiet. Then, almost shyly, he did something he hadn’t done before: he slipped off his light blue sports jacket and held it out to you.

“You… might need this,” he said softly, his dark eyes meeting yours for the briefest moment. There was no grand gesture, no dramatic flourish. just the quiet care of someone who had always been there, silently paying attention, and now letting you feel it in the simplest way possible.