let's rewind

Now that Kid was more or less calm, a whole other aura fell upon his person; one that appeared much more mature and serious. While he certainly had his issues, Kid was definitely not to be underestimated in usefulness, especially not when he was determined to pull through. And while he currently had no distractions such as whether or not he remembered to fold the toilet paper or whether or not the pictures in his house might have been off by a millimeter, there was nothing to hinder his determination.

Casting her gaze from the 8 on the ground to the remnants on the town they were now forced to live in, Ayame couldn't help heave a sigh. The work they would need to do would far surpass the home remedies she had googled prior to this mess and even then she had hired people to fix the major catastrophes. These houses hardly had roofs and some stood as a testament to miracles as their crooked wooden spines still stood. Here was a nightmare even for any regular 'Do It Yourself' crazed fan. 

The girl couldn’t possibly have known how much such a simple thing seemed like complete salvation to the distressed boy. Accepting the stick, his grab hesitant at first but soon much firmer, Kid soon stopped shaking and his nerves calmed down. “Can it really be so simple…?” he queried uncertainly; bringing the wood to the ground below a gasp left him as it broke the surface and started moving shakily with his control. Steady, steady… Ah! There it was! A perfect 8 had formed on the ground! If eyes could sparkle, Death the Kid was currently having starlight in each of his golden orbs. 

"Not always." Ayame replied. "But if you don't try something for yourself then the situation is entirely up to circumstance. You need to find your own solutions. Think." She lectured as he started making his numbers. Watching him, Ayame sighed. The whole interaction made her feel like a babysitter but she wasn't getting paid for this. Perhaps, if anything, this would be how teaching would feel like. Helping the helpless learn how to use their brains. 

There had been a time that Kid was definitely going to claim that his intense sense of orderliness was only natural albeit maybe a bit more serious than most other, but even he had come to realise that was not the case at all. ‘Not the sanest of people’ might be a very good way to put it, but with the madness of order making up his entire being to the extreme he had to embrace it in its entirety, even if it meant seeing every single flaw in the world wherever he went.

Not only was he crazier than most but the 8 obsessed boy was a complainer. Ayame had no problems with his complaint about nails and she could understand that hygiene was important but all he seemed to do was whine. How annoying. She had gotten stuck on an island with an unreliable lunatic. 

While aware of the presence of other people in this place, Kid had not expected one of them to be within his immediate vicinity - maybe if he had noticed, the first impression he had been giving them wasn’t going to be a full out show of his OCD but instead a much cooler one befit of a shinigami… then again that was not likely to be the case. Once distracted, Kid found it almost impossible to draw himself back into the world around him and he certainly didn’t have focus to spare on preserving his own self image. No, there were far more important matters at hand than something as small as that right now.

Engaging with a raving stranger was not the wisest of choices. Ayame took a measured step back as he burst into another rant. Already, she viewed him as someone to talk to only in the direst of circumstance. Then again, she would most likely avoid talking to any of the people here if she could. Out of those she had met, they all seemed unreliable and bothersome. 

Number three, huh? Being the third to arrive to this city wasn’t all too bad, three could be properly symmetrical under the right circumstances, and it certainly wasn’t as bad as if he’d been number four to arrive. But thinking about it alternatively it could also have been way better. Why hadn’t he been number eight? The perfect number eight, flawless and beautiful… Damn it, damn everything, why hadn’t he been number eight?! If he couldn’t even do this much then he truly was a failure as a person!

Ayame had been the first to arrive but the number meant little to her. Although selfish and a bit twisted, she was simply glad that she had not been the first and last. The others had to know valuable information and survival skills which her history of horror survival games had yet to teach her. When meeting the others, however, one thing became quite clear. There were a lot of questionable characters on the island with her. Hearing some lunatic yelling about what number they were, Ayame couldn't help but question his sanity. She didn't want to but she figured that the only way to guarantee her safety would be to know whether or not the others could be trusted...and that meant talking to number three.

"Eh, will you stop calling me that?" Yasaburou responded hopelessly, crunching his brow in distaste toward his surname. It didn’t necessarily have a fond memory of his family, so he tended to erase it from everyone’s mind immediately, if even letting them be aware of it at all. Still, even after his persistence in questioning it, he expected the same response each time. ‘If you quit calling me any variation of my name that isn’t Ayame’. There was barely a point in asking, but he couldn’t help but try. Letting go of his inquiry before she responded, the young male focused on the main problem, being the damn cat ready to tear him to shreds. "Mm," He paused, giving a thought to getting out of the corner the feline put him in. Upon noting a blanket by his feet, the male took grasp of it and threw it toward the cat, trapping it under it’s fleece netting.

Ayame huffed, not bothering to reply to his question. Theirs was a dialogue they repeated often and she had already memorized the conversation path. Fulfilling it would be in accordance to her tradition but she just didn't care enough at the moment. Resting her head on her palm, she scribbled in the answers to her work with a determined diligence. Maybe, she should have stayed at the library to finish up. Maybe, she should have changed her locks everyday or made a 'No Yasaburou's Beyond this Point' sign to hang on her door. She doubted he would comply. The best security she had to her studies and to her peace of mind was Shachou. A sharp yowl caught her attention and the pencil that so stubbornly clung to paper paused. He was up to something, wasn't he? Taking the space of a breath, Ayame wondered whether or not she wanted to check on him. Faint chuckles from across the room persuaded her against her previous decision. Turning her head towards them, her customary frown was painted on her face. "Yasaburou-san, whatever you're doing, stop. It's no wonder he doesn't like you."