Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Midoriya Izuku is born quirkless.

It happens. The mutation skips a generation and you go through life as an ordinary human.

He is part of the 20 percent of the population that didn’t develop a quirk. Government pamphlets would tell you that 1 out of every 5 people in the world are quirkless. Of the 8 billion people in the world, 1.6 billion don’t have one.

If you were a betting man, those are not bad odds. In a class of 20 students, 4 would be quirkless.

What the pamphlets don’t tell you is that the statistics are a lie. They obfuscate the truth. The odds of a child being born quirkless in this day and age is less than .001 percent. The 20 percent of the population, the 1.6 billion people, half of them are over 65 years old.

Ordinary humans are a dying breed. The 20 percent become smaller each year as the older ordinary humans die out and the younger humans with quirks replace them.

There was a .001 percent chance of being born without a quirk and Izuku beat the odds.

Izuku was also born without a soul mark.

This is not as easy to explain. This is not science and genetics. Souls and their marks are the province of monks and priests. Of temples and shrines and the 8 billion supplicants all looking for their one true soul pair.

Souls and their marks are quite mysterious but there are known rules.

One. You are marked from birth. They are clear, distinct, indelible.

Two. Each mark is part of a pair. Somewhere in the world, a perfect match to your mark exists.

Three. Often enough to be called usual, but not always, the soul mark pairs appear within the same ethnicity, same general age give or take a few years, within reasonably close geographical range. Reasonable being a relative term. It could mean same city, same country, same continent.

Those whose pre-occupation in life is to think about these things suggest that a common culture, common values improve the chances of people being compatible giving rise to soul marks appearing on people within the same age group and similar backgrounds.

A valid suggestion but it does not explain why some soul marks appear halfway across the world worn by someone with a different language, skin color, and close to 2 decades older.

Four. The soul marks pull you to find each other. As you age, your life choices will be shaped by the pull, choosing a job with less pay in a different city, traveling to one country instead of another, going to the mall NOW because your soul pair will be there buying something mundane on a Tuesday night.

Five. When your soul pair dies, you will know.

Six. When you meet your one true pair, you will know.

No one has yet mapped the odds of finding your one true soul pair among the 8 billion other people in the world. No one knows the percentage of people currently alive who has found theirs.

But souls and their marks are never about odds and percentages. People search their whole lives to find their one true pair.

Of the 8 billion people alive today, Midoriya Izuku does not have a match.

At 3 years old, Izuku is too young to understand what souls and their marks are. He knows he doesn’t have one. He knows his mother has. He knows Kacchan has one. But he doesn’t know what that means.

He does know what quirks are. He knows that Kacchan’s quirk is amazing. He’s had it now for almost 4 months. At first Kacchan couldn’t control it, it exploded even when he didn’t want it to. The explosions are never too big or too loud. But they hurt Izuku just the same, because even if the explosions are not big, Izuku is quite small.

Izuku would cry and he could see Kacchan’s lips trembling as well because he didn’t mean to hurt Izuku. It just happened. Izuku’s mom would dry his tears and pat Kacchan on the head, soothing them both. Soon they would be off again, playing imaginary games the way only 3 year olds could.

It’s blinding to Izuku how bright Kacchan and his quirk is. It’s as if Kacchan lit up the sky, filling Izuku’s whole world.

At 4 years old, Izuku still knows he doesn’t have a soul mark. But he also learns that he is quirkless.

Kacchan is more confused about it than Izuku. Why doesn’t Izuku have one? Where did it go? When will it come back? What do you mean it’s not coming back? That’s silly. How will we become heroes if it doesn’t come back? It has to come back of course.

Kacchan’s disbelief lasts for almost a year, unwilling to let go of the idea of becoming heroes together with Izuku. But everyone else have already gotten their quirks. And Izuku’s mom would look sad whenever Kacchan asks when Izuku’s quirk is coming. Izuku never denies being quirkless when the other kids tease him. Kacchan gets into trouble about it, pushing a kid in the playground who was calling Izuku names.

When Kacchan finally realizes Izuku’s quirk is never coming back because he never really had one, he throws a tantrum like he hasn’t done since he was 2. He kicks and screams and thrashes his toys and sobs angrily against his mother who was holding him, trying to calm him down.

Kacchan is 5 years old. He doesn’t understand that is he angry for Izuku, for their dreams that will never be fulfilled, for all the playground bullies that will mock and taunt his friend during all the times that Kacchan will not be there to protect him.

All he knows is that he is angry. And it’s Deku’s fault.

Useless, shitty Deku.

Izuku and Kacchan are 8 years old. They still play together, part of the same group of young boys who like to play tag and collect All Might trading cards.

Izuku still cries a lot but Kacchan doesn’t wipe his tears away anymore. They don’t hold hands. Where they used to run together, now Kacchan leads and Izuku follows the best he can.

Izuku still gets taunted for being quirkless. Kacchan doesn’t stop them anymore. Sometimes, he even joins in. Sometimes he leads it.

Izuku is still without soul mark. Still quirkless. Still cries when he gets hurt.

He still thinks Kacchan is amazing.

Izuku is 12 years old. He hasn’t spoken to Kacchan directly in over a year despite that he sits just 3 seats away. It’s their first year in middle school. Puberty is hitting their class with all the finesse of a drunken man with a bludgeon.

The girls giggle. The boys posture. People whisper about souls and their marks. One classmate says her older sister met her soul pair in college. Another says his uncle cried for a week when he felt his unmet soul pair die.

Some show off their soul marks. Shyly, bravely, because of a dare. They don’t really need to show it to know if any of their classmates are their soul pair. That’s only to confirm, as proof. You know your soul pair when you meet them. You just know.

Izuku doesn’t join these whispered chats about souls and their marks. He tries to keep himself as small as possible, trying to avoid notice. Everyone already knows he doesn’t have a quirk. There’s no need for them to know he doesn’t have a soul mark as well.

Izuku is 14 years old. It’s the start of the new school year, the last before he graduates from middle school. Next year, he will be in high school.

In the Hero course in UA, Izuku tells the school counselor. He dreams. He hopes. It’s not entirely impossible.

But even if Izuku doesn’t get into UA, it would still mean new students, fresh faces. Perhaps they would be kinder to a quirkless classmate without a soul mark.

Izuku wonders if that’s at all possible.

Kacchan still sits 3 seats away but they haven’t been friends in years. The most that Izuku could hope for is that Kacchan ignores him. Because Kacchan’s words cut deep and his quirk can now make huge explosions. Kacchan now has perfect control over his quirk. When he uses them on Izuku, the explosions are now deliberate, intending to hurt.

The truly sad part is, what makes Izuku tear up when he remembers happier days full of sun and laughter, while Kacchan’s explosions may hurt Izuku, Kacchan ignoring him hurts far, far more.

In another life, another universe, perhaps Izuku gets a second chance at winning in the lottery for quirks. Perhaps he gets given one, and he enters the high school of his dreams and the rest of this story is the tale of how he becomes the greatest hero ever.

But that is not this life.

Izuku leads an unremarkable life peppered by small acts of true heroism. They go unnoticed because he does it without fanfare, no cool uniform, no flashy quirk. He gets bloody noses, skinned knees, and all sorts of bumps and bruises.

The people he helps, the ones he saves, they all look at him with wonder, their eyes shining with gratitude, at how a singularly unremarkable man accomplishes remarkable, heroic feats without expectation of reward or recognition.

When they praise him, when they say thank you over and over with tears flowing down their faces, Izuku stammers and feels a blush covering his face, reddening the tips of his ears.

He says ‘My feet were moving before I knew it. You looked like you needed help.’

They thank him again and Izuku’s heart is full.

Izuku wakes up that morning, looks out the window and thinks a walk in the park might be good. It’s too early for the sakura petals to bloom, there is still chill in the morning air, but it’s a lovely spring day nonetheless.

Despite the loveliness of the weather outside, nothing told Izuku that it was going to be a special day, one he would recall even as he is already old and his green hair turned grey. Nothing warned Izuku that that day, fate would step in and change his life.

Izuku opens his front door to the sound of impatient knocks and comes face to face with his childhood memories all grown up.

“Deku.”

Kacchan is standing in Izuku’s doorstep. They are 22 years old.

Chapter Text

The whole of society is built on one premise: how do you find the other half of your soul?

If your life is predestined to be with another, then all your actions must lead to meeting that one person who bears the other mark of your soul.

There is a voice at the back of everyone’s mind that constantly asks ‘what will my soul pair think of this?’. It is a question which shapes the lives of the 8 billion inhabitants of the planet. The degree you take, the job you choose, the place you will live in. Which of these choices will lead you closer to meeting that one special person? Which will give you the life skills you will need when you finally meet them? Your accounting degree will be of no use if your soul pair lives in the deep jungles of the Amazon.

It’s all about mobility. Choices. Options. Because you will know. The soul pull will tell you which is the right choice.

Borders are meaningless, the soul pull trumps everything.

But not everyone listens to it. Not everyone has a soul pull to hear.

People still meet people. In college, in a coffee shop, in a library or park, and they fall in love.

There is some stigma to creating a life with someone who is not your soul pair. It’s certainly not illegal. But there is a certain …pause when people hear that your life partner does not bear the other mark of your soul.

Sometimes it cannot be helped. The soul that bears your mark has passed on and certainly no one will blame you for trying to find happiness and companionship with someone else.

But sometimes, people just refuse to listen, ignoring the soul pull in favor of someone they already have. Because despite all the agencies set up to help, the government assistance, the open border policies, there is no guarantee that you will find that one, single, perfect match within your lifetime. 8 billion people is still 8 billion people.

So some people...settle. It’s not a bad thing. It’s a choice.

Unfortunately, it’s a choice that sometimes leads to undesirable results.

Imagine being in your mid-30s and choosing a life partner, both of you giving up on your soul pair. You make a life together. You have children. And then one sunny day, there is a knock on the door and there stands before you: your soul pair. What do you do? With your house and your partner and your children and the life you have made? What if it wasn’t your soul pair but your partner’s? Do you wail and gnash your teeth, railing at the heavens, calling your partner a traitor? Do you let go? How do you pick up the pieces of your shattered life?

This happens. More often than one might think.

It’s why people search until the end of their days. It’s why there are concerned looks whenever those whose souls and their marks do not match create lives together.

But through the millennia, people continue to fall in love with those who do not bear their own soul’s mark. Priests and monks cannot say why. People just do.

Today, in this modern age of quirks, Bakugou Katsuki is no different.

Katsuki never forgets about Izuku.

That’s not to say that he thinks about him everyday or even at regular intervals. Katsuki doesn’t.

He has training, classwork, internships, evaluations, all sorts of exams to get through. He doesn’t have time to think about an old friend he used to play skipping stones with. Someone he hasn’t seen since their middle school graduation.

Katsuki is busy learning how to be a hero.

But that right there is the core of it. Katsuki has this feeling, an idea he just can’t shake, that while he has to learn how to be a hero, Izuku at 5 years old already was one.

/Kacchan, are you alright?/

The younger Katsuki maintained good grades, kept his record clean, avoided all delinquent activities but had no problem blasting other kids who pissed him off. Kids who were generally much weaker than him because even back then Explosion was impressive.

/Enough, Kacchan. You’ve already made him cry, stop it! I won’t let you./

When they are fourteen, a sludge villain attacks. Katsuki rages and rages but he couldn’t get free, couldn’t escape, couldn’t breathe.

/Kacchan!! My feet moved on its own./

It isn’t even that Izuku is brave. Katsuki still remembers the fear in his green eyes. It was a perfect match to the fear he’s certain he had in his.

/You looked like you needed help./

Once the medics pronounces them unharmed, the pro heroes praise Katsuki while reprimanding Izuku. Katsuki got job offers while Izuku is forced to sit in seiza, listening to pro heros they both admire chastise him.

Katsuki got himself trapped, was suffocating, couldn’t think past the fear, and had to be saved by a weak, quirkless crybaby and they praise him while scolding Izuku. He would have vomited if he could.

He has nightmares after that. He has nightmares still. But the worse ones is when it’s Izuku being suffocated by the sludge villain — and Katsuki doesn’t help him.

He stays away from Izuku after that. Not ignore him, as he had done since before middle school, stays away. Katsuki goes out of his way to avoid Izuku. He makes sure they don’t leave school at the same time, he goes around when Izuku is in his path.

In that sludge incident, Katsuki knows who is the one who deserves praise. And it isn’t him.

At 20 years old, Katsuki attends his coming-of-age ceremony. His mother had insisted. While Katsuki wouldn’t normally listen, his father asks gently but firmly that he indulge them in this. They buy him a full set of formal kimono and hakama. His father cries at seeing him looking so grown up and even his mother looks like she is holding back tears.

Katsuki figures that if he was going through this hell of ceremonial formalities, he’s making sure he wouldn’t go through it alone. So he ropes his classmates in and gets almost everyone to join. Their picture even appears in the newspaper — group of young heroes now come of age. Todoroki makes for a surprisingly willing ally. It turns out he is in the same boat as Katsuki and is cheered by the idea of having as many people suffer with him.

He doesn’t know why but Katsuki had somehow expected Izuku to be there at the ceremony. Probably because they had their shichi-go-san ceremony together when they were 4 years old. They had also worn formal kimonos then, rented at a considerable discount from a shop the Bakugou’s did business with.

Katsuki remembers that day. Izuku hadn’t been ‘Deku’ yet. He knows because he remembers calling Izuku’s name out loud in the shrine and it had 3 syllables instead of 2. I-zu-ku.

Katsuki, of course, has always been Kacchan.

Somewhere in their house, his parents have a picture of the two of them in their rented finery, Katsuki in bright blue and white, Izuku in fresh green and gold, small hands clasping each other’s, their candies clutched in their other hand, both smiling widely at the camera.

Katsuki at 20 years old is tall and could see over most of the attendees’ heads. A shock of green curls should have been easy to see. Katsuki keeps looking around, arching his neck this way and that, until Kaminari asks him if he’s looking for anyone special and he snarls back, embarrassed at being caught.

But Izuku isn’t there.

Katsuki is now a full-fledged pro hero, a side-kick in one of the biggest hero agencies in Japan. He’s busy. Far busier than he had been in UA.

But every now and then, he remembers the coming-of-age ceremony. How he had fun with his friends even if he hadn’t wanted to go in the first place. How they had all partied after, the ladies still in their pink and yellow and lavender kimonos while Katsuki, like most of the other guys, already changed into more casual clothes.

How someone he hadn’t seen in over 5 years, hadn’t been friends with in almost a decade, hadn’t known he was expecting to see, wasn’t there.

6 months later, Katsuki finds himself knocking on Midoriya’s door. He wasn’t sure if he would remember the house number. It’s been years since he had gone to Izuku’s house. They were probably 7 years old the last time he was over, 8 at most. Katsuki knows that by the time they were in third grade, he didn’t go to Izuku’s anymore.

But memory is a funny thing because Katsuki knows exactly which building it was, which floor, which door.

Katsuki’s knock on the door isn’t tentative, because he is never tentative even when he is unsure. He isn’t entirely certain why he is there, standing on the Midoriya threshold. For forgiveness? For redemption? For insights into his soul.

He is braced to see Izuku and is disoriented when the door is opened by Izuku's mother instead.

This, Katsuki isn’t expecting. How do you face someone — a gentle soul who has never done anything but soothe you and make sure you are as happy as you could be — whose son you tormented for years?

“Katsuki-kun!”

Katsuki feels his cheeks burn. He stands up straighter.

“Hello, Auntie. I’m looking for — for Izuku?”

“Oh. He doesn’t live here anymore. He visits sometimes but he’s not here now.”

Another thing Katsuki is not prepared for.

“I see. I see, thank you.”

Katsuki turns to go and the door is already closing but he grabs the door instead.

“Maybe, maybe you can tell me where he lives now?”

Katsuki could feel his cheeks burning hotter but he holds Midoriya Inko’s green gaze. So much like her son’s.

“I just want to talk to him, it’s been a long time. Please. If you can.”

Katsuki leaves with an address saved in his phone of a place at the outskirts of the city.

But Katsuki doesn’t go. He’s busy. It was too far, would take too much time.

Before he knew it, another year and half had passed.

And then one day, entirely by chance, Katsuki finds himself in a neighbourhood whose name niggles at him. When he remembers, when he checks his phone, it is all too easy to find the right house.

Katsuki is surprised at how Izuku looks. He somehow expected him to look like his middle school self, perhaps a little taller. But Izuku had grown up. Still shorter than Katsuki, nowhere near as muscular as him, still green haired and green eyed, but all grown up nevertheless.

He asks if Izuku was free, if they could talk. He says it just like he rehearsed it in his head, in front of his mirror.

Izuku veers from script.

“I was about to take walk, head to the park. Would you like to walk with me instead?”

Katsuki nods despite his misgivings. He had always imagined doing what he had to do while inside Izuku’s house, not out in the open. But Izuku is being gracious, agreeing to talk with him when he had no obligation to do so.

Soon they were under sakura trees and it will strike Katsuki then, and he will recall this for a long time to come, that their setting was more akin to a fateful meeting or a love confession than a tormentor asking for forgiveness.

“I wanted to apologize. I was an asshole back then. To you in particular. I hurt you many times. I’m sorry for that.”

Izuku stops, gawks at him in surprise. Katsuki flushes and looks away.

“Kacchan.”

“I know it was a long time ago but I wanted to say it.”

Katsuki bows slightly. He had thought about this a long while. What he did to Izuku is like a large bruise on his skin that never faded, an ugly mark marring him with its darkened shadow, tender to the touch.

Katsuki looks up when he hears sniffling. Izuku is crying, tears spilling from impossibly green eyes, but they couldn’t hide the trembling smile.

“Thank you, Kacchan."

The words didn’t completely heal Katsuki just as he knew his words didn’t fully heal Izuku. But it was a start.

They walk around the park and once again. When they saw each other last, they were 15 years old trying to find their place in the world. Now they are 22, not as lost as they were but not quite there yet.

Katsuki isn’t surprised that Izuku knew all about Ground Zero. He would have been surprised if he hadn’t.

But this grown up Izuku is a complete mystery to Katsuki.

Katsuki had always known that Izuku is without soul mark. They had known each other before Izuku knew enough to try and hide it.

It's not easy to believe in the hand of fate when you yourself have been left to go through life rudderless. Izuku is alone except for the connections he makes for himself. There is no one waiting for him, no one searching for him.

In a sense, this could be liberating. He feels no soul pull and so he is not bound to listen to its urgings. He can do whatever he wants, live where ever he wishes. But in a very real sense, Izuku is alone. Destined to live his life without someone beside him.

What Izuku chooses to do is cultivate. Perhaps to compensate for his lack of human attachment, life has given Izuku a seeming power over vegetation. Anything green he touches blooms and blossoms. Trees, flowers, plants, the herbs in his garden. They all flourish and prosper under his care.

He lives in a surprisingly spacious apartment above a flower shop, a garden and a small plot of land at the back. He’s awake before sunrise, tending to his green charges, sells flowers throughout the day.

Katsuki finds it all soothing.

They are slow to bridge the gap at first.

Izuku is always happy enough to hear from him, ready to make time for a walk or a cup of coffee, flipping the shop’s sign to ‘Closed’. But Katsuki is a rising, young pro hero and he is busy.

Still they make do.

Funny texts, brief calls, evening walks, steaming cups of tea or coffee. Little by little a connection long since cut is remade.

Katsuki likes to drop in at Izuku’s unexpectedly. He’d call ahead, because Izuku’s place is too far to travel only to find him absent, but he’d give Izuku notice just long enough for the train ride to last.

“You at the shop, Deku?”

“Hi, Kacchan! Yup. Just got a shipment of stargazers.”

“I’m at the Ueno station, coming over now.”

Katsuki would smirk at the laughter coming over from the phone.

“Alright, Kacchan. I’ll see you later. Stay for dinner.”

Every now and then, Katsuki would feel a soul pull. But he was right where he wants to be, on his way to being the top pro hero in Japan.

He ignores it until it passes.

It takes 3 years from that first day under the sakura trees before Katsuki kisses Izuku. They are 25 years old.

His heart is pounding madly and he’s trying desperately to control his sweat so his palms would remain dry but he has no real expectation that Izuku would stop him. They have been dancing around this for a while now.

What he doesn’t expect is for Izuku to cry. Not joyful tears of love and relief, but cry, like his heart is breaking.

Katsuki is at a loss. He’s sure that Izuku loves him back. He hasn’t just imagined it. Has he?

“Why are you crying?” he asks, wiping Izuku’s tears like they were 4 years old again.

Izuku continues to sob, clinging to Katsuki’s shirt.

“Didn’t you want me to kiss you?” Katsuki asked, a frown on his brow, fear in his heart.

“I did! I do. But, oh, Kacchan! I wish you didn’t.”

Katsuki hears the I love you too through the tears and the wailed words and his heart unclenches.

“What is this about, silly Deku?” he murmurs against the soft green curls, taking the other man in his arms.

“Your soul pair, Kacchan! I can’t be your soul pair!”

It took time for Izuku to calm down. Katsuki didn’t mind, taking the opportunity to plant kisses along Izuku’s brow, growling soothing words that he didn’t even know he knew.

It’s not that Katsuki is unaware of his soul mark. Of course he knows about it. It still tugs at him. But Katsuki never liked being told what to do.

And in any case, the soul pull always lead away from Izuku. Which in his opinion was full of shite because Izuku is where he wants to be.

Izuku’s tears dry up and soft kisses turn to deeper, hungrier ones, which lead to other, more lustful things.

Their first coupling is frenetic, neither of them having the patience for more than hastily thrown off clothes, friction, and rutting. With the edge gone, they take their time with the next one, exploring each other’s bodies, learning which parts go where.

Katsuki takes to leaving clothes and other personal items at Izuku’s place so he can go directly to work after spending the night there.

If not taking a bath or directly in the midst, prior, or immediately after sex, Katsuki keeps his shirt on, covering the soul mark that lies on top of his left breast. It bothers Izuku to see it. He doesn’t say so, but the light in the green eyes would dim and the smile go brittle.

Katsuki can’t say he blames Izuku. Prolonged relationships between non-soul pairs are not encouraged. Katsuki tries to be understanding, tries to put himself in Izuku’s shoes. Tries to think how he would feel if there was always the possibility that one day he would wake up and Izuku would say his soul pair found him and he’s putting a stop to this.

It’s not a pleasant thing to contemplate and Katsuki is sure it is a thousand times worse to actually live through.

But sometimes Katsuki wishes Izuku could love him as completely as he loves Izuku.

When they were 28, Katsuki wakes up to bright florescent lights and white ceilings. He feels like he wrestled with a high speed 18-wheeler truck and lost. A hospital then.

Izuku is asleep on a chair, head pillowed on his arms, slumped against the bed. Katsuki reaches out, running his fingers weakly through the familiar green curls.

Izuku’s tears begin the moment he sees Katsuki awake.

“How long?” he croaks out.

“Too long, Kacchan.”

Katsuki doesn’t need to hear Izuku say it to know. He almost died. He had been trapped. He doesn’t remember passing out, doesn’t remember the rescue.

“Permanent damage?”

Izuku shakes his head.

“You’re so lucky, Kacchan. You are so lucky.”

He cradles Izuku against him, Izuku’s tears of relief wetting his neck.

Katsuki closes his eyes and thinks thank you, thank you to anyone who would care to listen.

Katsuki’s brush with death changed Izuku. Where before he enjoyed his time with Katsuki, there is now a weight in his gaze, a sombreness to his eyes.

Katsuki is still on medical leave. He picks a morning, when Izuku is done tending to his plants but before he flips the ‘Closed' sign on the shop. He takes Izuku’s hand and leads them to the couch.

He wants his happy Izuku back.

“What’s wrong, Deku?”

Izuku bites his lip, not denying there is something wrong.

“I thought I was going to lose you. Kacchan, you came so close,” he began, looking down at their twined fingers. “I love you, love you so much but I didn’t want to because any day you could walk away and leave me and no one would blame you. Not even me.”

Izuku swallows hard.

“But then I almost lost you anyway.”

Izuku’s tears, never far from the surface since the hospital, begin to fall again.

Katsuki looks at the familiar, beloved face, full of anguish at almost losing him.

“Commit to me, Deku. Stop dancing around us.”

“Your soul mark —"

“Shut up about soul marks for a minute.” Katsuki took a deep breath, his hand tightening against Izuku’s. “I thought I was gonna die back then, Deku. I didn’t know Half n Half was already there. I was pinned and there was a fucking metal sticking out of me.”

Izuku moves instinctively closer, hand gently hovering on Katsuki’s stomach, over the still angry scar.

“I thought I was gonna die. And my soul pair, they would have felt me go. I’m sure they’d be devastated or whatever. But I didn’t even think about them. Not once. I just kept thinking ‘Please let me live.’ ‘Please let get out of this.’ ‘I want to see Deku again.’"

“Kacchan,” Izuku sobs against him.

Katsuki makes a sound that is half sigh, half-sob, pulling Izuku close.

“Commit to me, Deku. Let me love you.”

“Kacchan,” his name all but butchered against Izuku’s sobs.

“I need to know you love me back.”

“I do! I do, Kacchan. I love you! I’ve loved you since we were 4.”

“Then be mine. Choose me. You know me, Deku. I have never done anything I didn’t want to do and this is what I want.”

“I’m yours. I’m yours, Kacchan. I’m sorry I’ve been stupid.”

“And Deku?”

“Yes?” Izuku replies, sniffling.

“Don’t keep giving me away.”

Katsuki would be ashamed at the plaintive note in his words but it wasn’t something he could stop. He had carried the hurt for years.

“Oh god. Kacchan. Kacchan, I’m so sorry. I am stupid. Why do you put up with me?”

Izuku peppers Katsuki’s neck and face with fierce kisses. Katsuki closes his eyes allows the fierce growls of ‘mine, mine, Kacchan, you’re mine’ to wash over him, a soothing balm to the hurt in his soul.

Katsuki meets his soul pair when he is 33 years old.

He feels the soul pull, stronger this time, and he knows it’s different. He calls Izuku, tells him he might be late coming home and goes to wait in the small park near his agency.

He sits for an hour until a man with red hair approaches. The moment their eyes meet, Katsuki knows. This man, with his bright smile and sharp teeth is his soul pair. The other half of his soul.

Katsuki braces himself but he had been preparing for this day since before he first kissed Izuku.

They talk. The happiness and relief in the man’s eyes turn to confusion, disbelief, anger. This is not supposed to happen. They are soul pairs. Two beings meant to be together.

Katsuki feels the soul pull but his heart is a train ride away, in a house surrounded by flowers, waiting for him.

Katsuki agrees to meet the man again. It was the least he could do. The man looked distraught.

They meet a few times. They learn about each other. Katsuki finds he genuinely likes him. He thinks, yes, he could be happy with this person.

He doesn’t change his mind.

Katsuki never tells Izuku about meeting his soul pair. Every now and then he would look up and find Izuku looking at him with fierce, possessive eyes and Katsuki would smile.

They have been together for 18 years.

Katsuki has long since achieved his goal of becoming Japan’s #1 pro hero and highest paying taxpayer. Izuku now has a long scar down the length of his right arm from jumping into a fray to save a young boy.

Izuku had just come in from the back garden, fresh cut lilies in his arms, when he feels the soul pull. He doesn’t understand what it is, never having felt it before. He follows it to the kitchen where Katsuki is dicing carrots for their lunch.

Izuku places the lilies on the dining table with shaking hands.

“Kacchan.”

Katsuki stops dicing, turns around. Green eyes meet red.

And Izuku knows.

Souls and their marks are quite mysterious, but there are known rules.

One. You are marked from birth.

Two. Each mark is part of a pair.

Three. Not always, but often enough to be called usual, the soul pairs appear within similar groups of people.

Four. The soul marks pull you to find each other.

Five. When your soul mate dies, you will know.

Six. When you meet your one true pair, you will know.

Seven. Sometimes, but so seldom as to be thought as never, soul marks appear on pairs who choose time and again, over and over to love each other, with enough fire, passion, forgiveness, trust, devotion.

It rarely happens. It takes the utmost certainty, a conscious decision to bind themselves to each other, forsaking all other ties.

But it does happen. And when it does, you just know.