Finding the Raven Witch (A Soul Eater Fanfiction)

Three White Lines

Okay, okay. I know. Nobody really reads these bold author's notes at the beginning of each chapter. So I'll make it quick. First of all, this is my first book on Wattpad, so bear with me, and please PLEASE, if you don't have any nice things to say, don't comment. Second, this is a Soul Eater fanfiction based on BOTH the anime and the manga. So if some of the facts look a little messed up, it's either from the other series or just a fan theory I made up. Last of all, a SUPER-BIG thank you to my best friend, quill_Queen, who was not only a REALLY HUGE help with writing this story, but is also an AMAZING friend. So thank you; and on with the story! (And by the way, I do not own any of these characters. They were all created by Atsushi Ohkubo, with the exception of Rosalyn, who I completely made up.)

For as long as he could remember, Maxwell Seikatsu had loved symmetry. When he was very little, only about two or three years old, he realized that he could fold paper perfectly in half. He would spend days folding papers of all different shapes and sizes into perfect halves and quarters. In time, his fascination with folding paper grew into a complicated case of OCD. For Max, everything had to be symmetrical.

That was why he was curled up on the floor of his bedroom, pounding his fists, and sobbing.

"Garbage! I'm asymmetrical garbage! I might as well go live in a pigsty! I'm nothing but a filthy pig!"

The door opened, slowly and quietly. Rosalyn Seikatsu fell softy on her knees so that she was kneeling on the floor in front of her son. She took his face in her hands, and slowly but gently lifted it so that his solemn yellow eyes were looking up into her shining, blue eyes.

"Max..." she wiped away the tears that rolled down this cheeks with her thumbs.

"Mother, you see why I cannot live like this! Ever since I was little, something deep inside me has been urging me to bring balance to the world. And symmetry is just that: balance." Max sniffed miserably.

"Max, you're sixteen now," urged his mother, "You need to stop this-this- obsession. The doctor says it's unhealthy. I want you to get better. I don't want you to have OCD all your life."

"It's more than just OCD, Mother. It's my life. Symmetry is my life..." Max tried to argue, but hearing the sadness in his mother's voice made him stop.

Rosalyn sighed. "Please try, honey. Please try."

"Believe me, I do."

Rosalyn nodded, and started to stand up.

"Max, your hat." She gestured to the grey beanie that lay on the floor where it had fallen during his brief tantrum.

Max grabbed the hat and put it on. His mother paused, looking him up and down before adjusting it so that it covered the three horizontal white lines on the left side of Max's ebony hair.

Max wasn't sure how the lines got there. He'd had them as long as he could remember. It was as if he was born with them. His mother was constantly trying and failing to hide them. When she tried to dye them, they showed through. When she tried to cut them off, they grew back. Finally, she settled on her last resort; hats. Max didn't know why she kept trying to get rid of them. He didn't particularly like the fact that they were only on one side; but strangely, he wasn't bent on wiping them from existence like his mother.

"You're a special boy," she would always say, "But in this world, there are nosy people who never understand anything. Always keep the lines hidden. For your own protection."

Max had always nodded and obeyed her, never thinking to question her. But as he watched his mother silently leave the room, he wondered. Did these stripes have a meaning?