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You had always thought that the concept of soulmates was exhausting; you'd listen to your older friends and family stress over when they'd meet their soulmate, or if their soulmate would like them, or if they would like their soulmate. It was all incredibly pointless, so you chose to stay as far out of that topic as possible.
Until you came of age and your tie to your soulmate was bestowed upon you by the spiteful universe.
There were many ways to stay connected to a soulmate, and your favorite was the connection where if one half would write something on their body, it would show up on the other half's body. They could send little secret messages to each other without anyone else knowing, and you'd basically be able to get to know your soulmate and meet whenever you wanted to. So when your connection was bestowed upon you, you hoped that it would be something efficient or romantic like that.
You were predictably disappointed.
A couple of months after you turned sixteen, you began to feel unexplained soreness all over over your body when you woke up on some mornings, or pressure on the fingers of your left hand. You went to the doctor because of your concern for these ghost pains and pressures, but he just laughed and assured you that this was your newly established connection to your soulmate.
Apparently you would be able to feel everything that physically affected your soulmate. This didn't bother you much, you were more concerned with their character, and admittedly, their looks--though you did feel bad for your soulmate.
You'd been in an aikido club since you'd gotten a little meat on your bones. This same club would often leave you bruised and battered some nights when you arrived home from practices or matches, and you worried for the well-being of your soulmate.
They must either be really worried about the beating you're taking or really pissed at the beating they were taking.
A sharp pain in your side threw you out of your thoughts and back into the cold, somewhat smelly gym that your friend had dragged you to. She had been invited by a classmate to come to watch him play basketball, claiming that he was one of the best point guards Tokyo had ever seen.
From what you'd feel from your soulmate, you could tell they did not like to be touched. Any physical affection, like hugs or hair ruffles, would be quickly batted away with the back of their hand, as you felt.
As you were about to dive back into your thoughts, slightly bored with the squeaking of shoes paired with the dribbling, passing, and shooting of the orange ball, you felt yourself being jostled quite roughly.
A referee blew their whistle, signaling a free throw.
There was that jostling again. The same jostling I'd feel after school sometimes. Like an elbow being jabbed into my side. You ignored the slight discomfort, knowing that it would subside and you'd be fine.
"Our team is really something, huh? Takao sure is cute when he plays basketball." Your friend sighed dreamily, leaning on the railing and keeping her eyes trained on, presumably, Takao. Your friend's point of interest had black hair with a bit of his bangs hanging in his face, and was walking off of the court with his taller, green-haired teammate. As you watched Takao slap his teammate on the back, a light slap on your own back made you jump slightly.
Realization did not hit you until you watched Takao's hand be slapped away by his taller teammate, and you also felt this same contact on the back of your own hand. You did not tell your legs to run, nor did you tell your body to dodge the crowds of people leaving the gym following Shuutoku's victory, but you couldn't seem to stop. You had to meet your soulmate, after all.
You heard the voice of your friend becoming smaller and smaller until you reached the ground floor of the stadium, where the court was, and finding it completely deserted. The last of the crowds had gone through the stadium doors, and you were left in the huge stadium with the cleaning crew, the only sounds being the sweeping of their brooms and the occasional spray of chemicals from their bottles.
The new sound of footsteps made you whirl around toward the small hallway that was behind the bench that Shuutoku had occupied. A tall, green-haired man, the same one you'd seen with Takao before, was walking toward the bench where you sat, not even sparing you a glance.
It has to be him. You thought as you watched the basketball player pick up a packaged swiss roll from a chair three chairs down from you. You took a deep breath and slapped your face with both hands, keeping your eyes on the basketball player to see if it affected him. And sure enough, he flinched, making him drop the swiss roll. You began to laugh, and he turned to you with a sour expression on his face.
"What is so funny?" He had a deep voice, tinted with annoyance and laced with hostility.
"Nothing, nothing." You said airily, trying to calm youar giggles. "Should you be eating such an unhealthy snack after a game?"
"It's today's lucky item, nanodayo. Though, I do not see why I would need to explain myself to a complete stranger."
"I'm no stranger. Watch." You held up your finger to direct his attention to the pinch you gave yourself, which he also felt on his arm, judging from his slight wince. "I'm your soulmate, nanodayo." You mocked him, which was something you usually wouldn't do with someone you just met, but you felt you could have fun with this guy. Fun as in, you messing with him and enjoying the light blush that would dust his cheeks or the clench in his jaw, or the scrunching of his brow in annoyance.
"So, you're the one who has been causing me pain for close to a year?" His face was red with rage and his glasses were sliding down his nose from the way he was trembling with anger. "What do you do? Do you go around looking for trouble? Either learn self-defense or stop letting people beat you down, nano--!" You got up and approached him, sliding his glasses back up his nose for him with your finger before wrapping your arms around his waist. You felt him tense up, which you thought was impossibly from how tense he had seemed before, and his trembling stopped.
"W-what are you doing?"
"I'm hugging you, what does it look like?" You teased, keeping your face buried in his jacket. It barely smelled of sweat, which made it seem like he didn't just play a full forty minutes of basketball--he smelled nice. Your answer seemed to appease him, for he was quiet. You pulled away slightly to look up at him, only now realizing how tall he was. "Why don't you pull away? From what I could tell of our...contact, you don't like physical affection."
You rendered him surprised at himself, for what you said was true, and he didn't actually know why he didn't pull away from you. His face turned pink and then red, and his lips stayed pressed tightly together; the blush suited his pale skin quite well, and contrasted greatly with his green eyes and hair. You had acquired your own little Christmas tree.
"In any case, I'm glad I found you."
"Oh, you're one of those people who pointless stress over finding their--"
"No, not at all." You corrected, releasing him from your embrace. "I'm just glad that I won't have to feel my sides being jabbed and that pressure on my fingers from what I presume to be..." you looked to the fingers of his left hand, which were wrapped neatly with tape, "the tape on your fingers."
"You're complaining about that? I have back pain because of how many times you've been kicked down on your back."
"About that...no one's beating me up. I do aikido."
"Aikido? Don't you think you should have given it a rest once you found out what kind of connection we had?" You couldn't help but giggle at the veins popping on his neck as he continued to lecture you on the effects of your club activities.
"What's your name, by the way?"
"Don't interrupt me when I'm talking to you!"
"I just asked for your name. We are soulmates, after all." You reasoned. The basketball player frowned slightly and adjusted his glasses.
"My name is Midorima Shintarou. And yours?"
"Y/n."
"Well, y/n, as I was saying..." Midorima picked up where he left off on his scolding you, and you began to walk down the same hallway he had come from. You heard him call out to you, probably to instruct you to not walk away when he's lecturing you, but you were too busy thinking of ways you could get him to blush like that again.