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It was a pain to be the way he was.
It was a pain to exhaust himself with existing in the first place. Just a general mess beforehand, Akira was now a mess with a criminal record.
To add to the stack of odds against him, leading a silent life wasn’t the easiest. Of course he couldn’t help it, no matter how many people insisted he just, speak, he couldn’t. If they wanted unintelligible, ear-hurting croaks, then sure. He could totally manage that every time he opened his mouth.
He’d lost his ability to speak at age four with a throat infection gone horrible.
Once in a while he could get out a few choice words. The ones that didn’t take that much effort and energy to speak, like the, “yes,” “no,” “okay,” and his favorite, “sorry,” as gruff as they were.
“Sorry,” was a long word for him. And after years and years of prospective throat surgery and useless speech therapy sessions, he was content enough to learn to speak a two syllable word.
But, most people wouldn’t give him enough time to speak, anyway. So he tried his hand at sign language.
And… most people didn’t know how to understand sign language, so he looked like a frantic lunatic waving his arms around. Later on he realized it could be done more gently, but that was after the copious amounts of weird looks he’d gotten. Mumbling what he could, and unintentionally driving away those who took their time to stand and ‘listen.’
So, a pen and paper. Notebooks piled in his room full of conversations and responses. Scribbles, the pages filled up quicker than he would’ve liked, testing the water on white boards, and finding the happy medium there.
Criminal record, being mute… what was next on his list of life alerting circumstances that made him a miserable human being?..
Glancing down at his arm and sighing, even joking about forgetting the words printed there wasn’t enough. Somehow bolder every time he happened to look at it.
Akira had a soul mark that wasn’t as touching and beautiful like everyone in the whole goddamn world was. Because, of course he didn’t.
When he turned the ripe age of sixteen, he would look down and find the first words his soulmate would speak to him scrawled into his skin like permanent ink. There forever, no matter how hard you tried to think it could change, or would, it still stayed the same.
Everyone had different locations, some on their forearms, some on her shoulders, backs of their necks. Of course, his could be worse. He could’ve had something written in an entirely different language. One that was only spoken somewhere halfway across the world.
Some people’s marks would disappear one day. And they’d have to deal with the loss of someone who was destined to be together with them. He didn’t quite know what was worse, finding your soulmate and one day seeing the ink slowly fade away, or to never know the person at all.
He tried to look on the bright side more often than not, but it was hard.
Waking up on his birthday to see the ever so wonderful gift of, “The hell are you throwin’ gang signs for, dude?” was not what he had wanted in the slightest. But it’s what he got.
So, with that, sign language had always had a negative aura around it. Even his soulmate would think he was strange for signing, looking at his movements like some crude gesture…
He went through school with long sleeves, and a white board to follow up his unfortunate soul mark. Watching silently as his peers got such magnificent messages written on their bodies. Showing them off like prized possessions, a trophy of who had the sweetest words, who’s had the most beautiful writing…
And here he sat with a hand slapped over his wrist defensively. Like showing anyone would ruin his reputation beyond repair, it was ironic, he was in for a treat when he tried to protect a woman from being assaulted. Worried about the wrong thing fucking up his image.
The bright side was that whoever he would meet and spend the rest of his life connected to, he genuinely didn’t know. Someone who didn’t hear of his criminal record and immediately judge him, someone he might not have to warm up to. A person who didn’t have to be coaxed into loving him despite his past.
Some of his classmates back home had already found their match. As soon as they got their marks, the writing would sting, and they’d realized their lifelong friends' first words were what appeared on their skin. Or, that their soulmate was the one guy they’d met on vacation overseas years ago, in the case of a girl one room down from his. The unfortunate talk of the whole school for a while until someone got, “Fuck you,” on their ankle.
There was always someone worse off than him... he told himself… as he forcibly had to think brightly, standing under an awning, not knowing the rest of the way to school. Rain threatened his nicely pressed uniform, and already offered up a mark on his record for being late on his first day.
The latest news story flashing on the web browser on his phone, was about someone who had their soul mark on their forehead. An unfortunate placing, yes. But he met his wife with the same writing easily, and now they’ve been married for 40 years.
Knowing himself though, his luck would have it that he’d hear the words on his wrist right before he died. Destined to be struck by a train, or hit by a car, rather than finding love.
Footsteps approached him, lightly. Pattering rain doing nothing for the mood of the day, spotting blonde pigtails coming his way, it was hard not to look.
Whoever it was had beautiful eyes, icy blue, she radiated beauty. And Akira struggled to think of anything he could possibly do in the moment, taking his bag to quickly sift for his white board.
She wore an outfit that vaguely seemed to resemble his school uniform. So he thought to start the conversation with that, moving everything in his bag frantically in order to actually get a chance to speak. Overall, desperately wanting to ask where the hell Shujin was, he could feel her eyes settle on him as she took cover under the awning.
Looking up, he caught her gaze, and threw a small smile to her before immediately going back to the black hole he’d lost his white board in. Wondering if he looked like a lunatic was front and center in his head, embarrassing himself in front of a pretty girl without even trying.
This sucked.
Well, again worse things could happen. Like dropping his bag to the ground in his struggle, all while hearing the sound of breaks just in front of him. Glasses falling down the front of his face, white board tumbling out from under the cover, and into the rain.
This really sucked.
He could’ve typed out a message to the girl on his phone, but alas… he was an idiot.
Picking everything up, and hastily shoving it all back into his shitty bag, he could feel the heat creeping up on his face. Flustered at his own actions, he didn’t even notice the exchange that had just happened in front of him. Tossing his last book, and standing up fast enough to give him whiplash, the space next to him was now empty.
Blinking, like black magic had just happened right in his face and he missed it. He twisted his head to see the blonde head disappear into a car, some older man sitting in the driver's seat. Opening his mouth to say something, like he could in the first place.
“Do you want a ride too?” The man asked, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could probably be sure of the fact that the girl looked uncomfortable. Slowly buckling up while she stared at Akira.
What was he supposed to do?
Offering up his hands, he started to sign. Like second nature, and not thinking of it, who the hell panic signs? Arms moving wildly as he tried to tell the man something that could’ve been said with a simple head nod.
“Yes, are you going to Shujin?” He tried, like anyone but himself could understand.
The man furrowed a brow, just as the look of recognition washed over the blonde's face. Confusion was met with understanding behind him, and his heart had completely fallen when he rolled up his window.
She understood JSL, she knew he was signing, and he’d just watched his only opportunity to have someone speak with him, drive away. The man tossed him a look full of disgust as the girl stared, the car pulling away like the exchange was nothing at all. He wanted to throw himself to the ground like a child, because this wasn’t fair.
If he didn’t catch a break sometime soon, he swore he’d melt away into nothingness. So tired of the world consistently pounding him with rocks… he couldn’t help but to laugh. The only consistency in his life was everything being incredibly hard, and unfair for him.
“HEY! HEY!! Come back you pervy jackass!” He’d heard, immediately causing him to lift his head and catch another exchange happen right before his eyes.
Another blond stood. Slouched, watching the car that just took Akira’s opportunity to carry a smooth conversation, drove away into the distance. Hearing him sigh heavily as his arms fell to his sides. Defeated, just as Akira. Why was he yelling..?
Turning, he caught the stare on him, and Akira immediately went red. Far more intimidated, and embarrassed to make eye contact with this kid, than the girl. He wished to melt away now, step into the rain and dissolve because..?
Well. He didn’t quite know. But this guy was kinda cute. Wearing a Shujin uniform that was nowhere near the guidelines, blond hair likely against the rules, did he expect people to not look at him!?
And- why was he staring back!
Hand on his hip, leg popped out, it was as if he was expecting something from Akira. And he didn’t really know what to say.
That was an understatement- he didn’t know why he continually had to tell himself he couldn’t say shit. He was a mute. He quite literally lacked the ability to speak.
What else to do when you’ve already dug yourself a deep, deep, hole? Get a bigger shovel.
To his defense, he wasn’t the most friendly looking, and Akira was extremely intimidated just by his stance. So, he decided to be rather crude with his comment.
… for some reason.
Lifting up his hands, he instinctively chose to sign again, white board not anywhere near an option to him. He immediately knew it was the wrong choice when the guy arched a brow, confused beyond belief.
“Did you swallow a megaphone? Because you’re being loud enough for the both of us.” He signed. Not really processing how mean it was.
It took a moment.
A whole beat of silence Akira should’ve been used by now.
To be fair, and cast judgment. He didn’t look the type to understand sign language, so he probably didn’t catch what he’d said.
But, it sure as hell looked like he was trying to figure it out by the concentration written on his face. So intent, that even his pores were likely trying to produce an answer.
Akira just stood, clutching his bag.
Watching the guy scrunch up his nose, he looked just as weirded out as the man in the car from earlier, “The hell you throwin’ gang signs for, dude?”
...
They stared at each other for a moment. Yet another shared time between the two that held tension within the couple of minutes since they first laid eyes on each other.
And? Akira slapped his wrist, because fuck did he start to burn like a motherfucker. Like someone had sadistically held a magnifying glass over the sun, and pointed the beam of heat towards his skin. He felt like a cat, hissing at the horrible feeling.
The blond had mimicked him, hunched over, gasping for air as he clutched his wrist. No sizzling sounds of charred skin. Just the entirely unbearable feeling, as if someone was poking a hot knitting needle all around their marks. A continuous and painful experience shared between the two of them on this rainy morning.
This punk was his soulmate.
He tried his hardest to get over the pain, probably making it worse by squeezing at his skin like no tomorrow. As if doing so would help. It only started to fade slowly.
“What the actual hell!” The guy shouted, moving under the awning and sticking his arm out into the rain all in one go. Still having to hold himself up with a free hand, Akira took notice of how shaky he was.
It seemed to be a good idea, and proved so when he repeated the same action. Throwing his arm out to catch raindrops, the sky was ever so generous to grant the two relief from shit they’d just gone through. Because, Who knew finding your soulmate hurt that fucking bad?
They both would have expected to see the water that hit their skin, immediately dissolve with the heat they were feeling. Watching it drip off of their arms like the boys weren’t currently in need of the absorption. The grueling task of making their wrists feel anywhere near better, had gotten a good start with the quick thinking of the guy next to him.
Just, two boys. Under an awning with their hands stuck out into the rain.
Or? The classification of the first part could be altered now. Just, a pair of soulmates. Under an awning with their hands stuck out into the rain.
The throbbing pain had started to subside when the blond haired kid next to him finally looked at Akira’s wrist. As if the neat font was anywhere near hard to read, he squinted, leaning in enough to completely invade his space.
“The hell you..” he murmured the first bit, obviously scanning the mark and trying to process what it meant, “Oh.”
Straightening up. He seemed to have paled at the realization of what had just occurred. Wrist still stuck out into the rain, Akira took his turn to peek at the unfortunate saying on his skin.
…
And, he didn’t know if he was seeing things or- for a better way of saying it. He didn’t know if he wasn’t seeing things right. Looking at the blank spot where Akira’s own words should’ve been scrawled, he furrowed his brow. He knew the rules of the whole, ‘soulmark,’ situation. He had aced the test they had on it all the way back in grade 5… so it should’ve been in the exact same spot.
Why was he yelling out in pain if there wasn’t anything there?
They had to be soulmates, that was for sure. Or at least, he knew this guy was his match, because first words like that are something unique. And his wrist still throbbed in a dull pain.
Oh. He signed his first words. So, could that be..?
“Am I your..?” He tried, catching Akira staring at his wrist, puzzled look written all over his face.
He flushed, and it looked like someone had decided to tint his entire body a light shade of pink for fun. The obvious sense of embarrassment riddled throughout his new expression, it wasn’t hard to tell that Akira had made him feel bad. It was of course unintentional, but how could he explain that?
Taking his hand back in despite the stinging, he snapped his fingers to get the others attention. Trying not to grin like an idiot at how cute the stranger-turned-soulmate had looked all flustered.
Reaching for his phone, he began to type. Feeling the eyes on him that he hadn’t quite studied enough to get a solid color from, was only a tad intimidating. Although, he enjoyed the amount of attention and patience this guy had given him. Because usually in cases like this, the people would scrunch up their faces and walk away.
Notes
I cant talk. I’m a mute.
We r soulmates right?
Finishing typing, he shoved the screen into his face. Watching as he took a moment to read the words, getting the chance now to see that his eyes were brown. And again forcing himself not to smile like a weirdo, because he was totally a sucker for brown eyes.
For being glad that this wasn’t the usual case, and that the guy hadn’t immediately tried to split. He should’ve known his own luck.
It only took a second for his soulmate to push past him, and sprint away off into the rain.
What?
His footsteps so deafening to Akira, all he could do was stand there like a fool, watching the blond hair slowly get smaller… and smaller. His whole body froze, and he’d felt numb from the neck down, only able to blink.
His soulmate just fucking ran away from him.
Why.. did his soulmate just run away from him? They seemed to be doing okay, it was kind of gentle. And the way he’d looked at Akira’s mark??? They were doing so good, pain and burning of their wrists aside.
He didn’t even get his name.
So, essentially, he’d just watched his one true love sprint away from him at top speed. And? Yes, they did go to the same school by the looks of his modified uniform, but that didn’t fix shit. If he could run that fast, he could expertly avoid Akira for the rest of their days. And frankly, he didn’t want to pester someone who didn’t want to be with him, he simply didn’t want to chase him.
This sucked. And he was going to be late at this point, so he had no time to sit and process it all.
Judging by what his phone had said earlier, he could make it to school within five minutes. Looking down again to it, opening up the maps app, and seeing the straight line, Akira didn’t necessarily want to move, but he had to if he wanted to save his ass from jail.
Mull about your soulmark, or pay for the crime you didn’t commit but are still being blamed for… which was it?
Hanging his head for just a moment and collecting himself as best he could, Akira slung his bag over his shoulder and made the same mad dash he’d seen the blond do. Hoping that he was going in the right direction as puddles sloshed dirty water up his legs.
On the other side of things, it wasn’t going too grand either.
Ryuji had completely fucked up everything as usual.
He was going to be early for school for the first time in years all because he’s a screw-up. Huffing as he ran, weaving in between people on the sidewalk and ignoring their grunts and words of disgust, happy he didn’t get to see their faces too.
Who runs away from their soulmate? Him that’s who.
Now he was all out of breath, and couldn’t bear to stop for any breaks due to the creeping fear that the kid with the glasses had decided to chase after him. The kid in the glasses… being his soulmate… it was a likely scenario! And quite literally, he couldn’t get his feet to stop moving.
Looking at his blank wrist while he flew past a group of businessmen on their phones, he felt unsure of the whole thing. It was obvious they were destined for each other. Ryuji’s shitty first words were written neatly on the others skin, right there to view when he held them out into the rain.
He’d felt the pain you were supposed to feel when you found your match, that was for sure. Still feeling the remaining bits of heat right where his mark should’ve been.
It wasn’t like he was completely at fault for running away. He had a right to be utterly confused, because up to that point he didn’t think he had a soulmate.
He’d been going on thinking like that for nearly a year.
On his sixteenth birthday, he woke up to his alarm, planning just to sleep in more after he’d shut it off. Laying his head back onto his pillow, sleep began to take over once more, the small itch of something important he was supposed to be doing in the back of his mind.
Ryuji remembers he was having a nice dream before the incessant beeping woke him up. So, he was completely ready to dive right back into it. Feeling the sweetness of sleep slowly coming over him once again…
… he also remembers sitting straight up in bed.
Soulmark. Had flashed in his head, and he realized why he set an alarm in the first place.
Bringing both wrists out in front of him, he closed his eyes tight. Materializing what he wanted there, imagining the sweet words in perfect font, wondering if they’d be vertical, horizontal, even on his wrist at all. It was a common spot, yes, but that didn’t mean it had to be there.
That didn’t ease him, however. Feeling the world come to life around him as he looked down, arms still outstretched in anticipation.
Would it be lovey dovey..? Funny..?
It was neither, at that moment.
It was blank.
A wave of panic washed over him momentarily, a sickness to his core that he had immediately tried to shake. Flipping over his hands to see if it was written there instead, and flipping back as if it would make his mark appear like his skin was some stupid etch-a-sketch.
You didn’t have to get it on your wrist, it was just likely! No need to get wound up.
Slowly getting up from bed, he shuffled into the bathroom, his whole body tingling at the situation he found himself in. Peeking down the hall to still see his mother's bedroom door shut, he quickly dashed across the creaky wood floor into the bathroom. The sound of the panels beneath his feet seemed far louder than usual.
He couldn’t possibly disturb her at a time like this, and she was always so grumpy when he woke her up, anyway.
Funny how through it all, he was careful not to not wake up his mom, schedule calling for her to sleep into the late afternoon, as the midnight shift took a toll on her. He could be bleeding to death in the kitchen, and he’d still feel too guilty to call out her name.
Flicking on the light, he practically felt the few fluorescent bulbs that still worked immediately start to seep into his skin to wake him up. Gently closing the door, hearing the soft click to signal it completely shutting before moving to immediately rip off all of his clothes.
Stripping to just his underwear and catching a flash of himself, he didn’t want to stare at his pale and pathetic reflection for too long. Always scared of how it would stare back at him, afraid it’d start telling him how worthless he truly was. Having that same problem with mirrors ever since he had fucked up his leg.
Which, speaking of, he looked down to see the ugly scar that stretched too long for his liking down his thigh. Grimacing like it was the first time he’d seen it all over again, the sight of it had always made him overly angry. Like that long pink and purple line would fade away if he acted upon it.
Good news was that his mark didn’t end up anywhere near that ugly mess. Rotating his leg to check behind and around, it wasn’t so much as on the ankle.
Bad news was that he couldn’t find it on his opposite leg either, wiggling his toes as he searched for the words. It seemed that wherever it must’ve been, it had to be difficult to spot… usually they were just a quick look to find. Maybe he was different, maybe he was rare.
Turning around, his back only presented the few freckles his mom gushed about whenever she was trimming up his hair. “It looks like a constellation, Juji. A star pattern,” she would always say each time she’d sit him down. And? Even if it was, it was a shit attempt at God creating a connect the dots game. It seemed like whoever was up above them was trying to make up for everything else he’d forced Ryuji to go through with the smallest of things.
The back of his neck showed no signs of a mark… and neither did his chest. Or, under his arms, raising them high above him, while trying desperately to not get overwhelmed at his findings. Or lack thereof.
Just for the hell of it… Ryuji looked in the places currently being covered up by his underwear. Feeling so anxious and fearful about the situation, that he was willing to live with a soulmark on his left asscheek. It had to be somewhere. You didn’t just, not get them.
Maybe his mom lied about his birthday. Maybe he wasn’t born on July 3rd, maybe he wasn’t a water sign. Perhaps he was a Leo, or a Pisces. He could’ve been switched at birth, his mother a thief who snatched him from the hospital after he was born! Anything. He’d make up any excuse or explanation to ease his worries, to make sense of why he wasn’t seeing any lettering on his body.
Fuck the baby photos he had of him in the hospital. Fuck the disgusting VHS tape of his brith he accidentally watched when he was far too young… they could’ve all been lies!
They had to be lies.
By the time of your birth, on your 16th birthday, you should’ve seen the letters slowly fade in. He was lucky he didn’t have to wait all day to figure out what his mark would be. Born at 4:00 am, by the time he woke up in the morning, he’d be able to spot the quote. Or. He should’ve been able to spot the quote.
Feeling helpless as he stared at the reflection in the mirror again, he didn’t understand how glass felt like it was mocking him. Like the image of himself he looked at was taunting him, he felt like a loser for giving up so early. But, when even the soles of your feet didn’t bring any answers, it wasn’t too hard to fall into the pit of despair.
His whole life should’ve had a warning label on it from the moment he popped out of his mother.
Warning: can ruin your life if you look at him too long.
Warning: a disappointment
Warning: a screwup
Warning: a failure in every way possible.
Ryuji should’ve been peppered with caution stickers at this point in the game. And he didn’t quite understand how he was still chugging along, track derailing a couple of miles back. He could use every analogy in the book to describe his uselessness, and it wouldn’t portray how utterly empty and idiotic he’d truly felt. Standing naked in his bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror, stiff as a board.
He couldn’t even do the most normal thing about life right. After everything, he couldn’t even manage a soulmark.
So, when his mother knocked on his door later in the day, a bright smile and kind words waltzing in, it was easy to slide into despair. Seeing her so excited for her baby to finally get his soulmark, he sat up from his moping spot in bed, and tried to hold on to her happiness.
It didn’t last long when he told her, and her bright expression fell.
Her mark, on her forearm, small and short, wasn’t there either… but for different reasons. Reasons that made the realization that Ryuji not getting one either, even worse.
There was a scar the size of a butter knife, perfectly placed over the spot where the words of her soulmate were written. Not too long, or wide, the bump on her skin was something she unknowingly traced every so often. Like she hadn’t had any clue of the longing look displayed on her face.
Immediately after he realized he didn’t have a mark, he tried to reassure himself and make that fact a good thing.
Soulmates were sometimes destined to be complete assholes. And, why would he ever want to go through the pain his mom did? Her arm a constant reminder of what could happen, Ryuji supposed the biggest blow off excuse to hide his hurt was that, “He didn’t want his soulmate to end up like his mother’s.”
Because, he watched from around the corner as she sat on the kitchen floor with that hot knife. Even with the years passing by, the smell of her burning flesh was still fresh in his nostrils. And the sound of her broken sobs still haunted him at night, accompanied accordingly with the image of her wiping away her soulmark with heat. Shit like that would never, ever find its way out of his head.
Ryuji had watched silently as his mom burned the first words his father ever spoke to her, right off of her arm.
It was the sign he needed to know that the bastard was never going to be coming back home. The biggest bruises he’d ever received were already forming on his arms and ribs. It felt comforting to know he’d actually be able to let them heal this time without receiving a new set of purple neighbors every time he did something his dad deemed, “bad.”
She wiped away any evidence they were ever soulmates, and although the method was less than ideal. He was proud she made the step to erase not only his presence, but the memory of any connection based in love that they had.
He’d put on his clothes for the day. And went on as if nothing had ever happened, choosing to go about it like it wouldn’t affect him one bit. It was still his birthday, after all. And when his mom woke up, she promised to take him out to his favorite ramen place for dinner.
Why spoil the rest of the day?
So, yeah. Having a guy tell you you’re his soulmate when you’ve gone the past few months believing life didn’t want you to have even an ounce of happiness, was something he was shocked by. Of course he ran.
Running was the only good thing he could do anymore.
His feet had carried him all the way to school, and his heart felt as if it could stop any moment. Sweating, sick to his stomach. The moment you find out who said what’s on your soulmark for the first time, is supposed to be glorious, and romantic. You’re supposed to feel light and airy, and complete.
Ryuji didn’t feel any of that.
He felt absolute dread in every fiber of his being. Another fuckup to add to his list, right below, being born.
And, who could he possibly tell? He had nobody but his own mother, and she was biased to feel however he felt. Or simply tell him, “It’s up to you, Juji.” When he wanted her solid opinion.
Sighing, countless kids passed him by as he made his way through the halls. Absentmindedly walking towards his classroom earlier than he ever had, like he’d even have the capability to pay attention today. His mind was on a thousand different things, and education was unfortunately, not one of them.
Stopping, and moving out of the way of the foot traffic, he couldn’t help but to hang his head.
Maybe he should call home. Fake sick for the billionth time since his surgery and subsequent removal from the track team. Wallow in his many despairs of his life, and have a good cry under the covers.
Anything but being here would be good. Flip through the old DVDs they had and play a classic while he lay slumped on the couch...
“Hey, Ryuji?” He’d heard, causing him to look up from his shoes.
Or, maybe he could tell Ann.
I mean, she was standing right there with a worried look painted on her pretty face. Despite all that happened between the two of them, there was still the basis of friendship somewhere buried beneath their scowls.
“What’s up with you?” She asked, obviously not too concerned with being stared at. Their peers making faces at the two of them standing by each other.
Shaking his head, he’d just decided to get on with it, thinking saying what had just happened out loud, would do him good, “I… just found my soulmate.”
Ann blinked, and her eyes widened.
So much for being concerned, because now all she expressed was astonishment. Mouth hanging open slightly as if he’d told her something absolutely insane. Like he’d said the sky was falling, or he’d just murdered someone in cold blood. Truly in that moment he couldn’t make up a sound explanation as to why she was looking like she did. He was still wallowing in his mistake.
Grabbing his arm, she yanked him into the empty club room on their right like he didn’t weigh anything past a feather. Dragging him in rather aggressively before slamming the door.
She looked dead serious when she turned around to face him. Serious always looking so lovely on her face.
“I thought you didn’t have a soulmark, Ryuji!” She shouted, and suddenly his own confusion subsided. Remembering telling her when she wished him a happy birthday back in July, she had every right to be shocked.
“Well, I don’t!” He slid up his sleeve, “But my words were written on this kid I’ve never seen before. And both of our wrists started burnin’ like crazy!”
She shook her head and took his wrist into her hands, squinting as if looking hard enough would materialize any sort of mark. Finely trimmed and delicately painted nails irritated the still tender area, but he let her continue to stare. Ann did not know the amount of times Ryuji had tried that himself. His findings obviously the same as they always were, she looked up to him.
“Did you get his name?” She asked.
Shaking his head, the thought of admitting what he did out loud, had physically made him shudder and want to coil in on himself, “No… you see the thing is.”
He didn’t know how to say this in any way possible to not look or sound like a complete idiot. How would he say, “I ran away from him,” successfully without bringing complete and utter disappointment to the girl's face. Knowing she always told him in the first place that frowns caused wrinkles, he was hoping she’d skip on the expressions and get right to scolding him.
“I ran away from him.” He simply said, as if it was nothing. Internal planning not producing a single decent thing for him to say.
Ann frowned.
God damnit.
Pressing a hand to her temple like Ryuji’s words had caused her pain, she deeply sighed, “You ran away from your soulmate?”
All he could do was bite down on his lip, and nod. Nowhere near ready to make direct eye contact with his... friend?
He didn’t quite know what to call her due to everything going on, the year of separation they’d had, and her relationship with Kamoshida… but honestly none of that mattered in the moment and he couldn’t even believe he had the time to so much as think about it.
“I didn’t get his name, or anythin’” Ryuji threw his head back in frustration, wanting nothing more than to drown himself in the nearest puddle, the rain still going strong outside, “He said he was mute.”
Of course the only time he’d looked into Ann’s eyes was when he had a dumb question, “Ain’t that mean he can’t speak? Like at all?”
“He?”
Ryuji nodded again, “Well, yeah.”
She furrowed her brow, “You’re gay?”
Catching a glimpse of the mark on her arm that he knew for a fact was Shihos words, he scrunched up his nose and pointed, “So are you!”
“And anyway! Yes, he was real cute too! Had this fluffy black hair…” Thinking back on it now, it was part of the reason he was so flustered. Of course, knowing he wasn’t entirely straight was one thing. But seeing the first ever guy you were almost immediately attracted to, made his heart ache.
Suddenly, Ann perked up, and Ryuji could practically see the realization wash over her. Looking at Ryuji with wide eyes yet again, icy blue threatening to freeze him in place.
“I saw him earlier,” she placed a hand over her mouth before talking again, “He signed, he used JSL! Ryuji!! He was wearing a Shujin uniform! Do you know what this means?”
He’d look stupid if he scratched his head.
So he stuck to shrugging, “I dunno? That I’m screwed?”
Reaching over and grabbing Ryuji by his shoulders, she began to shake him violently, “No! You can get a second chance at your one true love! You can apologize for being a big oaf and running off!”
Uh.
Couldn’t he just live the rest of his life in a deep state of shame? Never to see the blessing of daylight, locking himself away due to his overwhelmingly idiotic mistake. He didn’t deserve to get a redo.
If he was alone, he’d be stomping his feet and groaning like a child at the thought of apologizing to the guy. He was never good with words, that evident in real life, and on skin, as the mark his soulmate had, was less than desirable.
Grimacing, dread had started to fill him again at all the potential ways he could embarrass himself again, “And how are we gonna do that? He can’t freakin’ speak, Ann!”
Just like earlier under the awning, there was a snap to bring back his attention, blinking hard at the smug grin he was presented with. Whatever scheme she had, obviously seemed fishy with the look she currently wore.
Raising her right hand to Ryuji’s eye level, she quickly moved her fingers into the ‘OK,’ gesture. Slowly moving it to her forehead, and laying it there for a moment, it was better to think she was demonstrating something and not at all doing an interpretative dance. Both seemed plausible to him at this point in the wacky day he seemed to be having.
Bringing her hand back down just above her waist, she smiled brighter this time. Excited like she had cracked a code right before Ryuji’s eyes.
“What the hell was that.” He wasn’t afraid to ask.
Ann, who held all of her frustrations with the boy in front of her, deep within herself, had settled for rolling her eyes, “Ryuji. You can say ‘sorry,’ in sign language.”
Ohhhhhh.
Fuck.
Again, he would really enjoy throwing a tantrum right now to get his anger out. But Ann would likely judge him more than she already was with the whole, “I ran away from my soulmate,” thing.
One long sigh, and he looked up with absolute anguish in his eyes, “Do I really have to? Can’t I just… I dunno. Live a lonely life?”
Shaking her head, she didn’t even seem phased by his comment, “Nope! You’re going to wait after school for him, and you’re going to apologize.”
And, with the anxiety and depressive mix of two boys who had absolutely no idea how to go about loving someone. One blonde girl with pigtails had single handedly given them both a solution, with only one half of the mess knowing it was even happening.
Ryuji thanked Ann. And they’d awkwardly stared at each other before leaving, knowing that as soon as they left the club room, everything would be back to normal, and they wouldn’t talk to each other anymore.
In more ways than one, he didn’t want to leave, but she gave a gentle smile before opening the door. Giving Ryuji just the bit of reassurance he needed to go on with the rest of the school day.
Of course, he was antsy the entire time. Fiddling with pens, looking out the window, fidgeting in his seat at the thought of seeing that guy again. Of correcting the biggest mistake he made to his soulmate.
He has a right to be nervous, just as he had a right earlier to impulsively run away.
And, Akira had a right to be absolutely terrified when he was grabbed by his backpack and drug to the side of the school. Everything moving far too fast for his liking, he could’ve easily slid out of the straps, but his misery from that morning was still raging on. Anything could’ve been happening, and he’d just let it play out without even protesting.
Closing his eyes and preparing for a beating from the kids who gave him nasty looks in the hallway earlier, he cowered when he was dropped. Bumping into a wall before realizing that even if he had started to care, he was trapped.
Except. He just sat there with his eyes scrunched up. Heating the faintest sound of what sounded like a failed attempt at snapping.
Peaking them open only to hear that all too familiar voice, “I can’t snap my fingers so just look here.”
There stood the blond, looking pale and just as distraught as Akira. Staring at his own hands with a regretful expression, it was natural to immediately stand up straight in the presence of your soulmate. Already flustered with himself just staring at him.
But, he listened, and looked at the guy. Watching intently as his shaky hands moved.
“I did this for you so don’t laugh.” He said, sounding grumpy and not at all confidant.
Connecting his pointer finger and thumb, and straightening out the rest of his fingers. He brought the ‘OK,’ symbol to his forehead. Eyes snapped shut, mouth in a thin line of concentration.
Bringing his hand back down, he successfully signed, “I’m sorry.”
Again, he looked at his hands, as if his palms were going to reveal whether or not he did a good job, he decided to ask when he looked up and caught the intense gaze pointed at him, “Uh. Did I do it right..? I think that was ‘sorry,’ right?”
Oh. Oh hell yeah.
Putting up one finger to ask for a minute, he began to dig through his bag, immediately finding the whiteboard. That shit always ended up buried, and finding it that quick? He must be in luck.
“You did perfectly, thank you.” He wrote, presenting it with a grin.
It made the other smile too, wide and bright, Akira swore his heart had just fluttered, “Okay, good. And uhm.”
He dug his toe into the dirt, looking like he was searching for the correct words, “Listen, I’m sorry I ran away. It’s jus’,” he offered out his blank wrist meekly, “I never got my soulmark. I got scared and bolted.”
Here’s his chance.
Bringing a hand up to clutch at his throat, he used one of the only words he could manage, trying his best to make it as clear and coherent as possible.
“Eeeaa- i-t’s ookaayuh.”
Immediately going to his board after seeing the smile it produced, he realized that from the on out he’d make it a personal goal to see that as much as humanly possible.
“I signed to you first, I think that’s why you don’t have one.” His marker squeaked as he wrote as fast as he could.
Dropping his jaw, Ryuji gasped, “No freakin’ way… FOR REAL!? That makes so much sense! My ma is gonna freak!”
All this time, he had an invisible soul mark because the person he was destined to be with, had used sign language to greet him. Forget stomping his feet like earlier, he wanted desperately to pump his fist in the air. Wanting to whoop and holler until the sun had begun to set… everything clicked so well.
He could run a marathon with his gimp leg with how much excitement he had. Energy powerful enough to generate electricity for all of Japan.
This is what it felt like to have a soulmate.
Erasing what he’d written, Akira decided it was time for introductions, “My name is Kurusu Akira.”
The blond didn’t hid his beam after reading it, being able to calm himself down enough to process words was hard enough as it was, “Akira, hm? I like that name. Mines Sakamoto Ryuji.”
Akira let himself smile too, writing, “I like that name as well it fits you.”
Before turning it around, he added a bit of spice at the end, almost like saying it would be a finality, “My soulmate, Ryuji.”
Immediately flushing again, Ryuji couldn’t possibly handle all of this at once. Feeling as if his heart was about to explode, Ann was right for forcing him. And against the money he owed her from the stuffed dolphin, he practically owed her his life now.
After all the shit they’ve both been through stacked together, they beat the odds and found each other.
It took years of hardship. Broken legs, arrests… neither of them had ever been given the easiest of routes. And maybe that made them even more compatible, fulfilling their destiny to be together to its fullest.
His soulmate was mute. How unique was that? How cool would that story be to tell?
“Hey kids! My soulmark is invisible because my one true love used sign language.”
…
Speaking of, Ryuji calmed himself down enough to ask a question that’s been at the back of his mind until now.
“Hey! What was my soulmark anyway?” He’d asked, like the answer would be cute and touching.
Akira grimaced.
And Ryuji dropped his jaw in offense when he was told what should’ve been on his wrist. All in all, “Swallowing a megaphone.” was just as worse as, “Gangsigns and shit.”
…
And, being fortunate enough to be able to spin it into a positive light, it furthered their connection.
They both had shitty soulmarks, and that was perfectly okay.