Soul Eater: Shinigami Trouble (For Rahl)

[*starfruits*]

"Wiisu, wiisu. It's not very good, ne?" Despite noting his son's wordless weeping, his soul flickering in faint sympathy, the Death God was not halting. Not just yet. His psyche had been sent back into that of his true form; the Devil Reaper, rather than the paternal, almost maternal Shinigami that his little Death had grown up with. His concrete-seeming palm slammed down, and whipped up, and then slammed down, the spiral-gazing entity waiting for his offspring's taut, now quivering butt to feel the full extent of his individual strikes. Each one becoming a strike of molten lava that roasted his nerve-endings, made once pallid flesh tremble and flex, each round, pert mound a world of vicious scarlet. The colour seemed to suit white and black just fine; going with the attire like coffee, milk and biscuits. Shinigami paused for a moment, large hand kneading the tender, sensitive flesh of Kid's bare rump, soothing the blazing skin as the Death God simply listened to his son's ragged breathing.

It was a harsh punishment; but it was warranted. A mere spanking was enough for a child such as Spirit's cute daughter, or any of the Shibuzen students; but the child of a Shinigami could take so much more. To stop now would be a break that the dark-shrouded entity could not afford to give to his problematic son. He'd have to show Kiddo that he meant business. That this one lesson would be a lasting one. Having loosened up Death the Kid's clenching ass, the firm, bubbled buns seeming to relax under the gentility of their host's father, Shinigami raised up his hand again, and sent it down with a reverberating CRACK.

[rahl]

Breathing hard against his father's slender, unseen thighs, Kidd knew that his resolve was ebbing. It wasn't only that Shinigami had him in the most humilitaing position possible or that more and more it seemed that he would have trouble sitting for a week.

He was beginning to trule regret giving in to the beauty of symmetry for the first time in his life. It was a really conflisting feeling, since many times the joy of seeing two sides match was the only thing that kept him going during hard fights.

But right now he was suffering the consequences of making the mistake of disobeying his honorable father, the only other thing in the world he cared so passionately about.

He began to cry louder, confused by his conflicted feelings.
"I'm worthless as a Shinigami! I'm not fit to have the tile of Reaper of Soul, I should die!"
He hiccuped, now crying in earnest. He struggled too, but his attempts were altogether useless against the strength of the hand holding him down.

"I am utterly the stupiest, most pathetic, appalingest excuse for an anthropomorphic personification on this or any other plane! I really shouldn't exist!"

[*starfruits*]

At that, the flood of self-loathing and exclamations of life ending that Shinigami's skull mask contorted into genuine anger, and wrapping an arm about Kid's waist, the Reaper began to really and truly pound his child's bare backside; no where near his truth strength, but more energy was fed into the strikes, his upset getting the better of him. When he spoke, he uttered in his aged, doggedly deep timbre, "Don't say that like you mean it..." The cloak-clad entity whacked away at his offspring's upturned, by now, cherry red buttocks, each blow making the vulnerable flesh sizzle and burn like tender meat.

When he was finished, Shinigami waved his right hand, as if shaking out an ache, as he gazed down at the sobbing young shinigami son over his lap, somewhat fretful. Kneading the youth's back with paternal tenderness, the Kishin Reaper leaned forward to assess the state of his boy's rump; more for Kid's benefit than his own; making sure that each tender cheek was as bright and red as the other, so that they reflected each other in flawless harmony and symmetry, "There, there... it's alright, Kiddo..." he cooed in the voice that had raised the white-striped shinigami since he was only a tuft of black shawl in Shinigami-sama's arms, left hand massaging at Kid's tense shoulderblades.

[rahl]

His father's angry response to his outburst seemed only to confirm his fears. Shinigami hated him.

Under normal circumstances, Kidd would probably have never suspected that from his father, but the situation right now was far from normal. The pain on his behind, added to the scolding he'd recived and his self-deprecation, lead to the conclusion that the Reaper didn't want him as a son anymore. He didn't know if he could be disowned, but it seemed very likely.

Kid wasn't aware that he was exaggerating things again like he tended to do when he was nervous. It always took Liz and Patty a lot of yelling and cajoling to convince him that things were not as asymmetrical as they seemed when he was nervous during a battle. He just cried over his father's lap until he realized that the much older Shinigami had stopped.

"There, there... it's alright, Kiddo..." he cooed in the voice that had raised the white-striped shinigami since he was only a tuft of black shawl in Shinigami-sama's arms, left hand massaging at Kid's tense shoulderblades.

Staying his cries, but still hiccuping, he stole another glance at the Master of Shibuzen. Shingami had reverted to his previous manner. No matter what the situation, it always calmed Kidd to see the not-so-scary Death Mask, with the three fangs, cirlce nose and spiral eyes in perfect symmetry.

Tears still streaming down his face, he calmed down enough to steady his voice and ask the dreaded question.

"Do you h-hate me....father?"

[*starfruits*]

A great weight, as though the Tower Bridge had landed on him from a great height, Shinigami slumped at the question. He then waved his arms around wildly, his ethereal shadowed body seeming to shed sweat in his distress, bead-like tears emerging from the sockets of his skull mask. He shook his head, "I-iya, Kiddo! You're..." he seemed to flush, kneading the back of his head in an attempt to think of what he wanted to say without resorting to a Spirito-kun type nature. His hands then wrapped about the youth over his lap, and hefted him up so that the younger shinigami was facing him in his lap, "Kiddo, you're very important, as my heir, as a shinigami, as a Soul Reaper warrior..." he grew silent, and then suddenly raised a finger, exclaiming in his sing-song voice, "But also!! Kiddo is my precious son whom I raburabu more than the space between the sun and the moon!"

"However, sometimes a father can't just let his children run around without guidence," Shinigami continued, thumbing away the tears that beaded his son's cheeks, "which is why I had to punish you just now. It works this way," he attempted to reason an explanation worthy of Spirit, "If you remember what this one was like, and how much your bottom hurts, it should help you when you next feel the urge to disobey me again... sa?" the entity tilted his head in question, fussing over Kid's clothes as he awaited the boy's response.

[rahl]

He was a bit surprised when Shinigami pulled him over his lap so that he was sort of sitting on it instead of laying over it. Oddly enough, he butt didn't hurt more with the added pressure of his body weight. Later he suspected that his father's robe had some healing or soothing qualities for Shinigamis.

But right now he was more concerned with his father's reponse.

"But also!! Kiddo is my precious son whom I raburabu more than the space between the sun and the moon!"

Kidd then smiled, though he was still crying. He was wanted by the person most precious to him. He wanted to bury his face on the Reaper's cloaked chest and hang on to him like a little child, but he restrained himself.
He was older now and didn't need his father's consolation to stop crying. Plus his soul a lot lighter now that he knew he wss not about to be disowned.

"Yes....I'll remember it, father-sama."

[*starfruits*]

Gradually, the Kishin Reaper's despondent mask seemed to draw back into its original frivolty, as his spawn's tears seemed to melt away into the boy's flushed skin. It was a bizarre closeness that he shared with the younger shinigami; a genuine, earnest feeling and sentiment. They were one in the same, almost, barring power and age difference. Both healers. Both Gods. No others were in the same league; and that was something that was unfathomable for anyone other than the two. Shinigami did feel content to console and coo and fawn over the boy as much as Kid chose to bat the sentiments aside, and secretly treasure them. It was understood. Shinigami knew his son's feelings as if they were his own.

"Oh ho?" Shinigami breathed in playful question, before ruffling the white-striped hair with paternal fondness, "It would be best that you do, otherwise I'll have to be sure to tell your homeroom teacher to let you have a pillow for most of your lessons in the future, ne?" The dark-shrouded entity tilted his head at his son, almost seeming to smile; the possibility that he was smiling beneath the bone mask lying behind his spiral eyes.

[rahl]

It had been a very long time since Kidd had seen Shinigami's "true" face, indeed, so long that he had in fact forgotten it, which was something he rarely did, having the memory of a Death God.

But if The Reaper were to remove the white mask to reveal the human face underneath, Kidd would consider the bone mask more "true" than the one under, he had seen it for so long.
And right now, this mouthless mask was somehow smiling to him.

He wanted to smile back, but the prospect of having today's events repeated held him back. Shortly before his father entered the room, he had been telling himself to not let himself be "spoiled" any longer, regardless of what the consequences of his actions could be.

Now that he experienced first-hand how painful the consequences could be, he was having a different idea. It wasn't that he wanted to go back to being a wanton child, his every whim answered to by his parent. But he also didn't want to suffer every time he did something out of line.

Arriving to conclusion for the first time in his life that most children reached by age five, Kidd decided to avoid punishment by obeying his father....or avoid getting caught.

Still, there was his Shinigami pride on the line and though most of it had just been subdued by the Soul Reaper's strong inhuman hands, there was still some left to re-surface.

"Ne, honorable father, don't do that. If I'm going to be punished, then I'll suffer afterwards like any other human. I'm afraid I wouldn't allow you to give me a pillow."