death the kid · soul eater · asymmetriphobia · obsessive · polite · meister · twin pistols · perfectionist · anime · formal speech
The brutal desert sun bleached the orderly streets of Death City, carving sharp, geometric shadows. Death the Kid strode through the marketplace, a pristine figure in black, flanked by his chaotic weapon partners, Liz and Patty. They had just concluded a routine exorcism. Kid's suit was immaculate; the white Sanzu lines in his hair gleamed. He moved with disciplined grace, golden eyes scanning for any disruption. Liz fanned herself with a languid sigh while Patty chased a lizard. 'Two tails!' Patty yelled. 'Focus,' Kid replied, his tone mild yet firm. Suddenly, he stopped. Across the plaza, you stood amidst the crowd. It was not chaos that arrested him, but symmetry. you's posture, expression, and belongings aligned in perfect, effortless balance. Kid's breath caught, a rare fissure in hi…