Shibuya annoyed her.

Automatic writing was a talent that had always been with her and when her family visited Shibuya during the summer, it became an instant hand cramp without even being in a mile radius of the shopping district. It had a profound effect on her- but a profound effect does not mean that it was a nice effect.

Some times she couldn't decide if knowing Japanese enough was a good thing or a bad thing- she could read their uncensored thoughts whether she wanted to or not and it all ended up on paper. As long as no one saw them, she figured she wasn't going to be attacked any time soon. For an American, she normally kept her mouth shut when it came to blurting out secrets or someone's private thoughts. It was more of a talent than her automatic writing.

Hey kid, why you lookin' so down?

She blinked for a moment then looked down at her notebook. What she had drew was a complete mess- in place of some rhyme or reason, there was a lot of scribbling that could have better resembled sound waves. But there was a clear form hidden in the right hand side of the paper, just barely visible that had an indication of speech near it.

"It's too loud." she said. "I hate Shibuya."

Hate is a strong word. But... I guess if you are overwhelmed, come to WildKat. I'll let you in, it's closed but it'll be quiet. We can talk more there- is that alright?

She looked blankly at the paper as her focus was made dimly by a hand attached to her body that she could not control. She could sense the sincerity in a voice she could not hear.

"Okay." she agreed dully as she sat up and started to walk toward the shop.

She held her sketchpad in such a way that she was able to keep her hand moving as she walked past the multitudes. When she got to WildKat, she heard a faint click at the door's lock and she let herself inside. Behind her, a visible static arranged and formed itself to make out the appearance of Sanae Hanekoma. Disinterested of his arrival (due to her partially knowing he was already there) she found a spot to sit and curled herself up into a ball- still allowing her sketchpad to rest on her knees a little so she could continue drawing.

"So, which parent dropped you off at Shibuya today?" Mr H asked as he started up a coffee machine. "Haven't seen you in a year or so, how have you been?"

"Mother is in Cairo." she said slowly. "She had a promotion."

"What about your father?" Mr H asked. She looked forward, her eyes unfocused a little, and her hand never stopped moving.
"104" was the answer.

"So it's a business trip then?" Hanekoma said as he got a cup and filled it with a steaming dark liquid from the coffee machine. She shrugged and nodded at the same time, her vacant expression unchanging. Mr H walked over to her and gave the cup to her.

"You like hot chocolate kid?" he asked.

She looked up at him.

"Yes." she said, reaching out for the drink to take a sip. Carefully (fully aware of her condition) she took the cup from Hanekoma and cautiously started to drink the warm beverage. Her fingers never stopped twitching though- it was if they were begging her to draw again.

Then the door to the shop opened. She and Mr H turned their heads to see who had entered, and for a moment it looked as if no one was there but visible static proved them wrong as it arranged itself to form a kid around her age. She glared at him while almost dropping her cup in surprise. She had to put her cup down and get her sketchpad again, the feeling was too overwhelming- she would have died if she didn't obey it.

"We're closed you know." Hanekoma told the kid.

"Then you need to lock your doors a little better." the kid smirked.

Hanekoma smirked back.

"What'cha want Joshua? I have a visitor."

Joshua turned his attention to her for the first time, and in turn she stared blankly at him. Her hand was feverishly orchestrating something big on the sketchpad without so much looking down at what she was doing. It was unnerving in a certain way that was only made harder by the fact neither of them wanted to let go of their gazes first- they were both god-awful stubborn. Mr H saw this problem quickly, and decided to change the subject.

"What are you drawing kid?" Mr H asked her, leaning over a little to see what she was doing.

Realizing what she had been doing, she looked down at the sketchpad and forced her hand to stop drawing. In a single yank, she pulled off the paper she was working on and shoved it in Hanekoma's direction.

Hanekoma took the paper gently and looked at it. After looking it over for a moment or two, he smirked.

"Well, isn't that a wonderful likeness?" Hanekoma said with a light chuckle.

From where she sat, her fingers itched a little but it was enough to ignore the urge. Joshua simply didn't care. Mr H looked at Joshua and laughed.

"I'm beginning to think there's a gas leak near here." Joshua said, flicking a piece of hair away from his face that was no where near his face. Mr H laughed again and turned to paper around to show Joshua the drawing.

It took a moment for him to process what he saw, then he turned to her with an unreadable, yet terrifying, look.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked.

She only stared at him as the itching in her fingers was growing prominent again.

"You know how I like to say that I am incredibly fond of those who win the Reaper's Game and still choose life than erasure?" Hanekoma then said, turning the paper around so he could look at the drawing again.

"No." Joshua said flatly.

"Are you sure? I'm sure I've mentioned it at least once..."

Joshua grimaced at Hanekoma.

"Your point?" Joshua asked, flicking his hair again with impatience.

"No reason," Hanekoma said, pushing it aside, "I just thought I've let it out before."

Joshua made a dissatisfied look before heading back out the door. The moment the door opened, he started to break into static then faded from view.

"Well then." Mr H said, sticking the drawing into one of his pant pockets.

"I made him mad." she said, her hand starting to draw once more on the paper with Joshua gone.

"Nah, he's always like that." Mr H told her. "He was secretly impressed at how well you had drew his real form."

She looked at Mr H with a good degree of uncertainty. The words on her paper were forming differently, but she wasn't going to tell him that.