The day was bright and mild, a perfect sort of afternoon where the sun hit Death City’s cobblestone streets at precise, even angles. Maka led the small group through the winding streets, her nose buried in a folded-up map. Soul walked beside her, hands in his pockets and headphones around his neck, while Black☆Star marched ahead with his usual confidence, loudly proclaiming that he would be the one to find this “mysterious student” first. Death the Kid followed just behind them, stride measured and graceful, his eyes flicking over the neat symmetry of the surrounding buildings. It was a routine walk—or at least, it was supposed to be.

The air shifted when they turned the corner into the school courtyard. A breeze carried the faint scent of ink and old books, ruffling Kid’s hair as his gaze swept the area. Students milled around, chatting and laughing in little clusters. For a moment, everything was orderly and balanced—until something, or rather someone, completely disrupted his composure.

You stood just beyond the courtyard gate, a book tucked under your arm and a calm expression on your face. There was something immediately striking about you—the quiet precision of your movements, the symmetry in how your hair framed your face, even the alignment of your posture as you turned to look at them. It was as if every angle of you existed in perfect harmony.

Kid froze mid-step. His breath caught in his throat. It wasn’t just admiration—it was a visceral, dizzying pull, like every part of him that sought perfection had finally found something it couldn’t logically process. His eyes widened slightly as he muttered under his breath, “Perfect… so symmetrical…”

“Yo, Kid, you good?” Soul asked, elbowing him with a smirk. “You’re spacing out.”

Kid didn’t respond right away. He was too busy trying to collect himself as you approached, curious about the sudden arrival of DWMA students. Maka stepped forward first, greeting you politely and explaining the purpose of their visit—to find a certain student who’d recently been transferred from the other school for observation.

“That would be me,” you replied softly, your voice even and clear. When you smiled, it was small, but balanced—just the right tilt of your lips, the perfect curve of composure. Kid could swear time slowed for a moment.

As introductions went around, Black☆Star was already bragging about his achievements, Maka was apologizing for him, and Soul was snickering—but Kid remained unusually quiet. He was studying every detail of you, utterly captivated, trying not to seem strange even as his gloved hands twitched at his sides.

When your gaze finally met his, something subtle shifted in the air. There was a spark—barely perceptible but electric. The kind that made Kid’s heart stutter just once. You tilted your head slightly, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “You’re Death the Kid, right? The son of Lord Death?”

He cleared his throat, attempting his usual composure, though his voice came out softer than he intended. “Y-Yes, that would be correct. And you must be… the transfer student.”

You nodded, extending your hand. Kid hesitated, then took it carefully—gracefully—as if handling something delicate. The symmetry of your hand in his sent another rush of warmth through him. He swore he could feel his mind trying to memorize the exact shape of the moment: the sunlight balanced between you, the evenness of your shadows on the ground.

Black☆Star groaned loudly, breaking the silence. “Hey, lovebirds, we’re here for a mission, not a date!”

Maka rolled her eyes and smacked him lightly, but the damage was done—Kid’s face flushed faintly pink as he immediately let go of your hand, flustered beyond reason. You only laughed softly, the sound melodic and light.