"Today was a long day..." A worn out death God muttered to himself, sighing as he opened the large front door leading to his house once again. He was surprised, however, when he swung open the door to see a completely changed, sparkling house. It was absolutely flawless. Not a single spec of dirt could be seen, not one object out of place- it almost looked surreal it was so unimaginably perfect. He wondered if an interior design expert might have snuck into his home whilst he's been out. He heard quiet humming coming from the kitchen, and poked his head around to see his six year old son, Kid, stood on top of a stool dusting a corner. He had a concentrated expression on his face; an odd sort of satisfaction, perhaps.
"Wow, Kiddo, you've done a lot while I've been out..." He said, still rather shell-shocked.
"Hm?" He calmly turned his head, and noticed the reaper in the doorway. "Oh. I tidied, yes." He replied, then getting back to dusting again.
"I know you don't like mess, but this is extraordinary! How did you manage to get the whole house this perfect? And why?"
He paused, and stepped down from the stool. He seemed somewhat reluctant to say something, possibly anxious, and this also rather confused Shinigami-sama. Why was he getting so hesitant?
"...I wanted the house to be symmetrical."
"Symmetrical?" He murmured in utter bewilderment. Since when had Kid cared about symmetry? He'd never liked mess, nor things being out of place- but why symmetry, of all things?
"So now the house looks pretty."
Shinigami-sama nodded in agreement, still very confused.
"...Is it normal for my child suddenly like symmetry?" He asked curiously, looking over at his red-haired death scythe.
He simply stared back, confused. "It doesn't seem dangerous, but... Symmetry?"
"Yes, one day I just came home and the house was absolutely flawless- he's never liked mess all that much, but he's never gone to that extreme... The 'worst' he's done is wanting to throw away a rather expensive glass of mine due to a small crack." He remarked, looking out to the many cross foundations in the distance, scattered across the vast area of land. "Perhaps it's just a phase."
"It most likely will be." Spirit agreed.
"Hm..."
However, after months, Kid only got worse. He became less tolerable every day, and for once Shinigami-sama's lenient personality was a good trait to have as a parent. Not only had he started wanting to perfect the things around him, but he even started getting upset if he couldn't... It was ridiculous. And, after a while, Shinigami-sama finally sat him down to get to the bottom of it.
"Kid." He begun, facing the child opposite him. The fact that he wasn't calling him by his usual friendly nickname, 'Kiddo', was a strong enough hint for Kid to know he was serious. Not quite as serious as most would be, but for him it was certainly rather stern.
"Can we talk about something?" He questioned, his tone softer.
The young reaper nodded, and dangled his legs off the edge of the armchair.
"I know you like symmetry, and that's okay, but this is getting out of hand."
"B-But it's-"
"No buts. I want to know why."
He fell silent, and his eyes shifted downwards to the floor. His quiet reply, more of a mumble, came out slightly harsher than intended. "I don't want to tell you."
"I'm not angry." He said reassuringly, "I just want to know why."
Kid sighed quietly, and grabbed the cushion from the floor, clutching it to his chest. His little fingers dug into the soft fabric sharply. "I don't like the stripes in my hair. I thought if I couldn't be symmetrical, the things around me could at least be.."
He sighed, partially in relief, and partially in a why-didn't-I-guess sort of way. "Oh Kid..."
He looked ahead again, and upon seeing his son once again lying on the floor in despair, sighed.
"I'm nothing but asymmetrical garbage... Filthy reaper scum..." He moaned, a few blue lines wavering by his head. "You're probably embrassed to have me as a son..."
"It's okay." He said after clearing his throat, slightly tired of this whole sketch.
"I'm an embarrassment to all things symmetrical..." He whined. He then started sobbing pathetically, as he often did whenever the stripes were mentioned. Even worse if they were mentioned by he himself.
"It's alright Kiddo." He sighed, pulling his six-year in for a hug. "I'm here."