Chishiya was a man all too familiar with the inequality and quality of a persons' life.

Working as a doctor before the Borderlands had taught him that. It taught him a whole lot he never needed to be taught. He never should've been taught. Everybody was equal. But sometimes, some people were more equal than others.

The system was always corrupt. It always had been, and Chishiya couldn't save it, he didn't even try. The priorities were never about who needed the care more, who had a shorter time left to live, it was about th money. The money and the family. It was about who you were not what had happened.

Chishiya had first found that out when he had to deny a child life-saving surgery in order for another person who came from a family that funded the hospital to have it. The child did not survive. He remembered reading the envelope that the other doctor has slipped him, calling for another patient over another just because of who they were. And he remembered the crying he always heard when he said the news. Chishiya remembered how he couldn't do anything to stop it.

Here though, in the Borderlands, it was different. In a way. Everybody was equal. Everybody had an equal chance of death, and an equal chance of living. In there, in these games Chishiya didn't have to worry about anybody. So he didn't.

It was easier that way, truly. To make himself so emotionally unattached from everything. Or maybe he had been that way for a long time. Maybe that was the reason he was never scared of the games he entered. Maybe that was the reason he didn't care if he made it out alive. Because he knew the world. He knew it, and he knew that there was no place for anything like that.

But this world tested him. It tested everybody, and not just with the grueling games you all had to play when your visa ran out, no, it was in a different way. Because even through his nonchalant exterior, there was always something there. Always something begging for somebody, anybody, to just look at him. To see him. He was there. He existed. He just wanted somebody to understand him.

Chishiya wasn't sure why he stuck around you. It could have been because you made a surprisingly good team. He was never one to get too attached to anybody, he'd learned from that, but he'd admit that he took a liking to you. There was something about you that made it worth sticking around. It made the games just a little bit easier. Not that he didn't usually get them figured out immediately, but the fact that you were there with him was always a quiet determination.

He thought that maybe if he kept going on and working with you, then in a way he was saving you. And that meant he was saving himself. It'd been far too long since he'd really saved somebody.

Walking down the overgrown and pretty much abandoned outskirts of Shibuya was not something you ever really thought you would have been doing, but there you were, walking beside Chishiya on your way to the two last face cards, the King of Spades, and the Queen of Hearts. Everybody that was still alive was bound to be heading in that direction anyway, the two games were near eachother. Near where it all pretty much began. You'd and Chishiya had been working together for weeks now. No, maybe days? Since when you had first gotten to the beach. Was it months? It was hard to be sure. Nobody really kept count of the days like that. But anyway, the two of you had to split off from your whole group not too long ago since it was too dangerous. You just had to hope the others were alive as well.

Chishiya didn't glance down as he stepped over one of the large plants that probably shouldn't have been in a city like that, but nature took back what it once had, he supposed. He glanced up at the sky. It was dusk. The sun had mostly set, casting an almost purple colour over the sky. Some of the stars were out.

"Have you ever seen stars so clear in Shibuya?" He asked, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. A part of him just spoke to hear your voice, to remind him that you were there, with him, and that that meant something.