A/N: Wow, I've been on a long hiatus! But, I'm back now (hopefully), and definitely better than I was. I've got a crapload of ideas for not just Soul Eater, an absolutely amazing show, and hope I can manage to finish them like this one. This is a series of oneshots I'm going to be writing for Shinigami-sama and Kid, and eventually there is going to a hundred of these suckers. Oh joy. Anyway, I love the father-son relationship between Kid and Shinigami and since canon hasn't given me nearly enough of these two, I'm going to make up my whole own. This is dedicated to astriaseeker/lmd_84, who is currently writing me the most amazing fic ever (which also happens to be about Shinigami and Kid, hee), as a way to hopefully return the favor a bit. Read her fics! They're absolutely amazing! Anyway, enough of my rambling. Thank you again, lmd, you're amazing! Please, enjoy!

Eye of the Beholder

Summary: Kid hasn't always been obsessed with symmetry. A tiny Kid, jealously, a mask, and a loving father will change that. [Kid, Shinigami, mentions of Maka and Spirit, no pairings]

1. Addict

"Father?" Kid intones quietly, his voice so feathery soft that Shinigami almost doesn't hear him.

"Hm?" Shinigami turns to face his son completely, masked eyes furrowing in slight concern. When Kid makes no move to answer him, Shinigami shuffles over to where his small toddler is reading a thick volume on some ancient philosopher he's never heard of, and kneels before him silently, his abysmal eyes seeking Kid's own.

"Father," he says at last, in a tone so stern that Shinigami can't help but feel as though their roles have been reversed.

"Yes?"

"Show me."

. . . Well, that hadn't quite been what Shinigami had expected his tiny prodigy to say, and he can't but wonder if that's a good or bad thing.

"Show you what, Kid?" Shinigami asks, clapping his large hands together gleefully in an attempt to lighten his child's mood.

Kid gave an irritated huff before replying, as though it had been obvious all along, "Your face, father. I want to see your face." Before Shinigami could utter a word, Kid interjected quickly, "Your real face."

Behind his mask, Shinigami smiles. His son was so unbelievably cute sometimes. Amused, Shinigami asks, voice even, "And why do you want to know that, son?"

The scandalized expression that crosses his son's face, lighting his cheeks with a charming cherry hue, nearly destroys Shinigami's collected façade. His son really is far too hilarious for his own good. Reining in his laughter, Shinigami repeats, a little more firmly, "Why do you want to know, Kid?"

"Well, that's—It's just that—" Kid stammers, cheeks getting redder with each passing second.

Shinigami could barely conceal the laughter building within him. It was times like this that made him infinitely grateful to the fact that he always kept his face hidden behind a mask. After all, if he didn't, what fun could he have in torturing his adorable son?

Lost in inner musings, Shinigami couldn't help but be taken a bit aback when Kid all but screams in his face, more flustered than he's ever seen him, "I want to see father's beautiful face, too!"

Shinigami blinks, slowly registering what his child is saying to him. He smirks beneath his mask, not making a single move as he waits to see what Kid will do next. "Oh?" he coos though, amusement he can no longer repress seeping into his voice. "How do you know it is beautiful, Kid?" he teases, curiosity getting the better of him. Just where had Kid gotten this sudden desire to see his face, anyway?

"Maka said so!" Kid hisses, his shoulders slumping forward slightly as he lowered his head to hide his flushed cheeks from his father's searching gaze. "Why has she seen it, father? I'm—I'm your son, father, and I haven't even seen it! Why, father?" Kid whispers brokenly and all amusement flees from Shinigami immediately as he realizes his little Kid is crying.

"Kid," he murmurs, regretful for dragging on this little game as long as he had. He knew how fragile Kid's feelings were and should have known what his grim mood had been signaling. Removing the playful skull mask from his face, Shinigami sets it down on the floor next to him, shrugging his jagged black robe off so that his long black hair is free to tumble down his back for the first time in a long time. Placing a comforting smile on his face, Shinigami hooks his pointer and middle fingers under his son's quivering chin, forcing his son to make eye contact with him.

Startled, Kid stiffens at the clawed fingers that grab his chin, so velvety soft that Kid wonders briefly for a moment if his father has left him to cry and Marie—with her sweet smiles and gentle touches—has come to comfort him. He blinks ferociously at his tear-filled eyes, trying in vain to see the blurriness. "Kid," he hears a voice whisper, low and silky, and he is quite certain it is not Marie's.

"Wh—?" But he can't finish because the sight that greets him is so breathtaking that it nearly moves him to tears once more.

Two glittering orbs of liquid gold are staring back at him, so soft and filled with love that he wonders if they're really even there. The face they belong to tilts slightly, fine ebony strands drawing about them like curtains, ghosting over smooth alabaster skin as his head stills. Kid's eyes graze over the ethereal face slowly, moving upwards until his eyes lock on three complete white stripes painted upon otherwise jet black hair.

"F, father?" he rasps, letting out a breath he didn't even realize he had been holding.

"Yes?" Shinigami whispers in turn, his sharp claws dancing across Kid's cheek as he proceeded to wipe away the tears slipping down his cheeks.

Kid's cheeks burn scarlet again, though it was for a reason entirely different from anger.

"What's wrong, Kid?"

Blinking in quick succession, Kid shakes his head vehemently. "Nothing, father! It's just—" His tiny face lightingt up in a tiny smile, cheeks still crimson. "You showed me."

Shinigami let out a small chuckle as he caught his son up in a tight hug, the long forgotten book tumbling unnoticed from Kid's lap. "But of course! It's not as though I was hiding it from you, Kid!"

Kid let out a defensive grunt, crossing his arms stubbornly like the child he was. "But you always wear a mask, even around home, father!"

Shinigami thought about it a moment. "I guess I'm just used to it, that's all. I always wear my mask, Kid, at both home and work."

Kid scrutinizes his father deliberately, before mumbling in a tone Shinigami could only describe as envy, "So why has Maka seen it?"

"Maka-chan?" Shinigami repeated, not entirely sure himself. "I don't know, myself. . . Hmm . . ." Recalling a certain incident he had never wanted to , Shinigami sighed, letting out a small laugh as he did. "I remember now," he informs Kid, and Kid almost gets the impression that his insufferable and always jolly father is sulking.

"What, father?" he asks persistently, gripping his father's robe earnestly. The question had been haunting him for days now and now he would finally, at long last, have his answer!

"Well, Kid, you see," Shinigami starts, not really wanting to go into full detail, "let's just say that Spirit-kun managed to get a picture of my real face after a rather . . . awkward incident." That was putting it mildly, in Shinigami's opinion. His weapon was such an idiot sometimes . . .

"Awkward?" Kid reiterates, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at his father. "What do you mean—?"

"Are you happy now, Kid?" Shinigami asks suddenly, halting Kid's interrogation.

Kid blinks, wrapping his arms about his father's neck as he stares at his father's full figure in the mirror in front of him. He smiles slightly. "Yes, father, I am."

"Good." Shinigami presses a cool kiss to his forehead, and Kid can't help the blush that rises to his cheeks.

Kid decides, in that moment, his father's perfectly symmetrical face is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen and thinks that: wouldn't it be nice if everything were as perfect and symmetrical as father?

From that day on, Kid is addicted.