Kuto’s life was filled with shock. He was in Brazil, and he had a black cyclist cap. His hair color was light blonde, and he had a Zappa style beard. He wore a white shirt, but his pants were stained with blood. There was a large gash on his leg where the bone protruded out. Kuto knew he wouldn’t be able to walk on it.
He tried to crawl towards the nearest house, but every movement sent searing pain through his leg. He gritted his teeth and kept going until he finally reached the doorstep of the house. He collapsed there, exhausted from the effort of crawling and in too much pain to move any further.
He must have passed out because the next thing he knew, someone was shaking him awake. Kuto opened his eyes groggily to see an older woman standing over him, her face creased with worry.”What happened?” she asked him in Portuguese.”I-I don’t know,” Kuto replied weakly.”Where are you hurt?””My leg,” Kuto said through gritted teeth.”Let me take a look,” she said as she crouched down beside him to get a better look at his injury.”It doesn’t look good,” she said after examining it for a moment.”You need to go to a hospital.””No hospitals,” Kuto muttered.'”Why not?””They’ll kill me if they find me here,” Kuto explained pleadingly.”Please just help me get away from here.””Alright,” she relented after seeing how desperate he looked.”But first we need to take care of that wound or you’re going bleed out.””Okay,” Kuto agreed weakly as she helped him up off the ground and into her house..”