Wow, I updated really fast. Usually I take forever to update, but when I checked on fanfiction today and realized I already had 8 (Ha, Kid's number) reviews, I was so happy I immediately started writing. Oh ya, I have a question: What does Shinigami call Kid?
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Today was Death the Kid's birthday. He was now six years old. Death the Kid wondered if his mother remembered his birthday.
"Ugh, today is the anniversary of the day I was cursed with you." Death the Kid's mother, who was sitting on the black velvet couch in front of the small TV, told him.
Yes, she remembered.
Death the Kid decided to leave his mother's presence, knowing that if he stayed there too long, he would surely be punished. He walked down the short hallway, past the hole the wall had received when Death the Kid's mother had been disciplining him, and into his small room. Inside the white room was a blanket less mattress, a small pile of weathered books, and a set of building blocks. These were all the possessions Death the Kid had collected since he was born. He sat down in front of the building blocks and began to put them in symmetrical order.
It had started from pure boredom, the symmetry obsession. Death the Kid didn't have any other toys and had already read all his books several times, so one day the boy decided to organize his blocks. Then his mother would kick them down, and he would organize them again. Death the Kid used to only organize them symmetrically because he had nothing better to do and was bored, but somewhere along the line it had become a habit, and was slowly developing into a need. He began to enjoy the sight of the symmetrical blocks more and more. And he also began to resent his mother more and more, every time she kicked them down.
Until then, Death the Kid had never resented his mother. He had feared her, but never really resented her. Because who's to say he didn't deserve the treatment he got. If everything his mother said were true, then maybe he deserved this. And how could he feel resentment or anger towards his mother when she was only giving him what he deserved? But then, with that logic, why would he start feeling resentment now? If he deserved to be beaten, then why shouldn't he deserve to have his symmetrical blocks, one if the few things that made him happy, knocked down? Such a simple act started to change Death the Kid's whole way of thinking. The six-year-old was confused. His ideals and beliefs were beginning to form around his slowly developing symmetry obsession.
Death the Kid had just placed the final block in place when his mother barged in. Of course, she immediately kicked down the blocks, as she hated the satisfied look on her son's face when he was done. For moment, Death the Kid simply stared at the disarrayed blocks with a frown, but then he looked fearfully up at his mother, knowing she didn't come in just to talk to him. It was then that Death the Kid noticed how furious she looked. He also noticed that in her hand was a wrinkled newspaper.
"What is this?" She growled through clenched teeth. She crumpled the paper into a ball and threw at Death the Kid. The boy picked up the newspaper and straightened it out, his eyes widened as he read.
Shinigami in Fight?
A witness claims to have seen a shadowy figure attacked by several muggers in an ally. The witness, who has requested to remain anonymous, states, "I saw it put up a glowing shield, like the one Shinigami-sama has!" Could it be that Shinigami had been wandering in the streets and attacked? Or-
The newspaper was snatched out of Death the Kid's hands.
"Some little bastard saw me!" She snarled. She grabbed Death the Kid by his hair and pulled him to the near wall, then she yanked him up against it. "This is all your fault! It's all because I had to go out and buy food because you eat too much!" She screamed in his face. Then she grabbed him by his collar and slammed him against the wall. "You're such a useless piece of trash! All you ever do is play with your stupid little blocks!" She punched him hard in the stomach, then in his face. "What kind of freak likes organizing blocks?! What is wrong with you?!" His mother grabbed his still injured arm, digging her nails in. "Since you're so useless, you don't really need this." She took his arm and bent it until a snapping sound came from the breaking bone. Death the Kid cried out in pain, but his mother didn't stop there. She went for his fingers next, bending one so far back it touched the back of his hand with another snap. The boy squirmed to get away as tears began to flood his eyes.
"Oh don't even cry! You stupid crybaby!" She threw the boy down to the ground. She was just about to kick him when the sound of breaking wood echoed through the room. Death the Kid's mother froze. A second later, the door was broken down. The wood splintered and came crashing down in a heap on the matching wooden floor. In the doorway, where the door had once been, stood a shadowy figure with a skull for a face.
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Wow, I kinda don't like this chapter. But maybe I do. I didn't really like the newspaper idea, but well that was all I could think of. Anyway, I know this chapter is a little shorter than the last one, and I was gonna write more, but then I decided this seemed like a good place to stop. eheheh.