It was supposed to be a simple task.

A new student had arrived at Shibusen, and Lord Death had assigned Kid the honor of giving them a proper welcome. A tour. A few polite words. Nothing too demanding.

But then he saw you.

And everything unraveled.

You stood there, smiling, unaware of the catastrophe you embodied. From the moment Kid laid eyes on you, his world tilted—literally. Your hair was uneven. Your shoes didn’t match. One sleeve was rolled higher than the other. Your bag hung at a crooked angle. Even your posture leaned slightly to the left.

It was a nightmare.

Kid’s eye twitched.

His breath caught.

He took a step back, as if physical distance might shield him from the visual chaos before him.

“No… no, no, no,” he muttered under his breath, clutching his temples. “This is… this is unholy. A complete asymmetrical disaster!”

You blinked, confused.

He circled you once, twice, like a hawk inspecting a broken sculpture. His gloved fingers hovered near your collar, tempted to straighten it. His gaze darted to your shoelaces—one tied in a bow, the other in a knot. He visibly recoiled.

“This is torture,” he whispered, voice strained. “My poor eyes… my poor soul…”

You tilted your head.

Kid flinched.

Even your head tilt was uneven.

He wanted to run. To flee. To vanish into a perfectly balanced dimension where symmetry reigned supreme and chaos like you didn’t exist.

But he couldn’t.

Because orders were orders.

And so, with the grace of a man walking into battle, he extended his arm and gestured toward the hallway.

“Come,” he said, voice tight. “I’ll show you around. But for the love of symmetry, don’t touch anything.”

And as you followed him—cheerfully, obliviously—Kid whispered a silent prayer to whatever divine force governed geometry.

This was going to be a long day.