Chapter Text
The militants arrived back from their game in good time, everyone moving away from them as they entered the lobby of the Beach. There was another reason why they moved away, though. Samura, Last Boss, was covered in blood that wasn’t his own. He was carrying an unconscious body over his shoulder, walking easily through the parting people. No one recognized the person, but everyone was curious, especially since Samura kept to himself and a few of the militants.
One of them ran ahead, asking where Ann was. She came out of the sea of people, on guard when she saw the body Samura was carrying.
“Are they dead?” Ann asked, stiffening. Samura shook his head. Ann started to walk fast, finding a room that wasn’t occupied. She flipped the light on and pulled at the bed sheets, motioning for Samura to set you down. He was surprisingly gentle, lying you on the bed. Ann got to work, looking over your bloody form to find where the wounds were. You had a long gash over your cheek and lots of cuts and bruises. She started first by cleaning you up, wiping all the dried and wet blood from you.
Ann was very aware of how Samura watched her. He paced around the room and looked over her shoulder, wanting to make sure she was doing her job. She didn’t ask questions. She didn’t ask if he had done this, seeing as he had a sword. She didn’t ask if he knew you. She didn’t ask anything, just did her job. It took awhile for her to stitch you back together, but her work was good. You still lay unconscious, probably exhausted from whatever game you played. You needed time to heal.
“This is all I can do for now.” Ann said, washing her hands in the small bathroom off to the side. Samura took a seat and Ann assumed he meant to stay the night, watching over you. How curious. She had never thought of him to be the type to make a connection to someone, let alone a stranger. She left, figuring that he was a good watch dog one way or another.
Samura sat and waited, letting his mind process the events that led to this.
The game was a top-tier one. For Last Boss it was easy and he was ready to win. Part of the game consisted of fighting off hungry, savage dogs let loose in the arena. At one point there were five all around him. He could’ve easily taken them if one hadn’t jumped on his back. You came out of nowhere, throwing the dog off of him. You fought well, whistling and screaming at the dogs to chase you. A sharp piece of metal was your only weapon, but you used it well. Your head hit the asphalt and you were knocked unconscious. Before the game ended, Samura picked up your body and carried it out of the arena. He owed you.
He looked at you now, resting peacefully on the bed, blood wiped off your face. That gash on your cheek was going to become a nasty scar. Your body might be littered with them from your fight with the hounds.
You barely awoke the next day. You sat up at one point, to Samura’s surprise, muttered something incomprehensible and then laid back down. You moved in your sleep, tossing and turning. He was almost afraid you’d pull your stitches loose and start bleeding again.
48 hours after he had brought you to the Beach, you officially woke up. You were confused, looking around you. Samura sat next to your bed, writing something in a black journal. He quickly closed it when he noticed you awake, putting it in his pocket.
“Thank you.” You gasped out, looking around you. He nodded his head, but was silent.
Once you were able to move around, you had to sit in on Hatter’s introductions as he welcomed you to the Beach. You figured it beat being on your own, not knowing how to get food or water. Being scared constantly. This was a step up for you.
Samura loomed over you like a shadow, never being too far. Everytime you looked behind you, you noticed him leaning against a wall or trailing. His appearance didn’t help your fear at first, but eventually you realized he didn’t intend on hurting you. People stayed away, though. It was hard to make friends or acquaintances with Last Boss constantly on your heels.
In your free time, you searched the Beach, trying to find something. When you realized you couldn’t find one, you approached Samura, who wasn’t far away. He was with a few other militants, including Niragi. You avoided the other militants as best as you could, advice you had gotten from the other Beach members.
“Can you do me a favor?” You said, walking right up to him. He rose a brow in question.
“If you go into the city, could you find me a journal? Or a book or something?” You asked. Niragi scoffed, almost laughing in your face. In his bout of mockery, Samura nodded his head. You smiled a little, ignoring Niragi. You walked away.
The next day, you woke up to see Samura sitting in your room. If it had been anyone else, you would have freaked out, but something told you to trust him. He had saved your life after all. He had a cloth bag sitting by his feet and emptied it out on your table. You sat up, body still sore. Your face brightened when you saw the contents of the bag. Four little journals fell out, along with several pens. There was even a novel or two laying in the pile.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You grinned, clapping your hands together. He didn’t ask for anything in return. He got up and started to leave. You ran up to him and just barely touched his hand. He looked at you, curiously.
“Thank you.” You said again. He nodded and left. The whole reason you had wanted the journals was to keep track of what type of games you played and everything that was going on. You wrote, sometimes indulging in short stories or essays on despair and hope. You thoroughly enjoyed the books he brought you, reading them fast and then rereading them. After a couple days, Samura found you again and gave you another book. A different day, he gave you a fidget toy he had found on a supply run. His little gifts and trinkets reminded you of stories about crows bringing people gifts in exchange for food. You wondered why, though? Why was he bringing you gifts?
After participating in your game with other members at the Beach, you returned and realized half the militants weren’t back yet. You started wandering around, trying to find your shadow. He wasn’t back yet, you guessed. Since Samura tended to wait in your room for you, you decided to do the same thing. You asked a militant the directions to his room, which they hesitantly gave you. Last Boss never usually received visitors other than Niragi.
You took the directions and found the room you were looking for. Since the Beach didn’t have locks on most of the rooms, you just let yourself in. If you were in the normal world, you wouldn’t even think of doing something like this. But these were the Borderlands. You took a moment to look around, taking in the different papers tacked to the walls and the stacks of. . . writing? You walked over to the desk in a corner and picked up a thick notebook, paging through the entries. There were writings about all sorts of things and even some amateur sketches that you liked.
You sat in the middle of his bed, starting from the beginning and reading from the journals. You were on the second journal when the door opened. You were so engrossed in the writing that the only thing that took you out of your thoughts was the clank of Samura setting his sword down by the nightstand. You looked up, blinking rapidly.
He had a look on his face that you weren’t used to. It looked almost upset, annoyed and surprised. He stared at you, walking slowly to stand by the edge of his bed. He reached his hand out and you handed over the journal you were reading. Your face heated up, realizing that you might have been reading something that was dear to him. That you might have breached his trust. He rolled his shoulders, tossing the journal over on the stack of writing. The silence was almost unbearable for once, so you said the first thing that came to mind.
“Your writing is really good.” You told him. “I’m sorry for intruding. I shouldn’t have read your things, but. . . You write so beautifully. I couldn’t put it down. In the real world. . .” you took a deep breath. “I was a teacher’s assistant in a community college for literature, so I’ve read a lot of things. Did you write in the real world?” You asked. Samura’s eyes were wide and he looked around the room, avoiding you. You got up from where you were sitting.
“I’m sorry to have intruded.” You quickly walked towards the door, but something out of the corner of your eye caught your attention. You turned around just in time to catch the book he tossed to you. Looking down at the cover, it was a novel. Samura found a seat on his bed and looked at you, waiting. You walked back over and sat down where you had been sitting.
“Can I read aloud?” You asked, quietly. He nodded his head, almost seeming enthusiastic. You had a small smile on your face as you started to read from the beginning of the book. Over the course of your reading, you adjusted yourself to sit directly next to Last Boss, your eyes glancing at him whenever you got a chance. He leaned his head back against the board on the bed and listened. He seemed almost at peace. It was getting very late and you paused at the end of a segment.
“Can I come back tomorrow and do the same thing?” You asked. Samura opened his eyes, staring at you before nodding his head.
You closed the book, putting a strip of paper between the pages as a bookmark. Before you got up from the bed, you leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then jumped up. Samura put his hand on the spot where you kissed him, his eyes wide and confused.
“I meant what I said about your writing. If you ever want to share it. . . I’d love to read it.” You grinned, standing at the door.
“Goodnight.” You whispered.
“Goodnight.” He said back. The smile on your face widened and you left.