Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Oh! That’s a good idea.” Ann retrieved her notepad and tapped her lip with her pen. “What do you think about grey eyes?”

“Don’t ask me.”)

He couldn’t be fair-haired because there was only room for one dumb blonde in their relationship, she didn’t have the best impression of redheads for various reasons, and brown was just so... normal, you know?

(Shiho had been muffling snickers at that point, but she helped Ann come to the conclusions of dark grey eyes, curly black hair, preferably Japanese without further commentary.)

It was kind of silly, she knew, but it felt like a talisman. She’d have a soulmate, or she’d have a guy who was perfect for her anyway. Her standards didn’t have room for the likes of Mr. Kamoshida or that one Photography Club member who kept trying to get creepshots of her when she passed by. The girls could call her a bimbo and the boys could call her a frigid bitch and it would all be fine because she was just waiting for Mr. Right.

So her perfect guy had to be good with kids and kind to animals. He had to be a little bit noble and a little bit sly. He had to hold her hand in public. He had to want her—not her looks, not her body, not her connections or status, but her—more than anyone else.

He had to listen to her. He had to hold her but couldn’t coddle her. He had to support her in her dreams. He had to want marriage and children one day. He had to—

And then, one sunny afternoon in April, three kanji hastily inked themselves across her wrist, and no amount of scrubbing washed it away.

‘来栖 暁’

After so much time spent wanting to know who her soulmate was, it was kind of a shock to find out that he’d actually gotten close enough for their souls to, well, brush.

Maybe he’d moved to Tokyo, or maybe he’d just come to visit, or maybe-maybe-maybe...

Well, it wasn’t like she had any idea how to find him—at least not yet. The name would probably pop up online, if nowhere else, and he might even come looking for her first, but right now, at this moment, he could be just another face in the crowd shuffling through Shibuya Square and she’d never know.

It was an odd feeling, but she didn’t have the time to dwell on it. Her agency had her weekend packed and she barely even had the time to make an attempt at her homework before it was Monday again.

Monday was misleadingly clear until it started pouring down right in the middle of her walk to school, and she found herself ducking under an awning with another unlucky student who’s forgotten his umbrella.

She was just contemplating making a run for it (she’d look totally lame, but it would probably be even lamer to turn up soaked through) when she felt a stare burning into the side of her face.

The other student was the culprit, eyes wide and lips parted in that kind of open awe she got sometimes, that kind that didn’t feel hungry or creepy the way some did, just... admiring.

It was a warm feeling, one that bubbled giggly in her throat—and then she registered the actual look of him

And blinked.

Dark grey eyes, curly black hair, definitely Japanese, a little bit taller than her, handsome and broad-shouldered and somewhat reserved—

Ahahaha, no way.

It was ironic that she’d meet a guy that looked like a perfect 10 on her (slightly joking) list of requirements only a few days after finding out her soulmate was nearby, but that just had to mean things were looking her way, right?

She smiled at him, then resettled herself and went back to contemplating the rain. Inconvenient as it was, it was also really pretty.

Mr. Kamoshida was... nice enough to give her a ride to school and save her from looking flustered and lame or soaked and lame, and she made it to class without further incident.

And then, just slightly late, the boy from under the awning walked in after Ms. Kawakami.

He was a transfer student, Ms. Kawakami said, and he’d be studying with their for the rest of the year.

He wrote his name on the blackboard and murmured his greetings in a low, velvety voice that she could really get used to hearing, but she couldn’t fully appreciate it.

‘来栖 暁’ he’d written. Pronounced as Akira Kurusu, he’d said.

That was her soulmate.

Akira’s soulmate was in Tokyo. He was pretty sure, anyway.

Somewhere, somehow, ‘高巻 杏’ was or had been close enough to ink their name on his wrist in the space of a nap on the train.

It was one more new thing in the whole slew of new he was walking into, and it should have been a shock, but he was traveling out of his hometown for the first time, he was alone in a big city, he had narrowly escaped a prison sentence for a crime he hadn’t committed, and he was barely acquainted with a picture of his new guardian, much less the man himself—

Well. Tokyo was the biggest city in Japan. There were over 9 million people here and more passing through on the daily. His soulmate could be... anyone, really.

Well, no. They were Japanese, he knew that much, and 杏 was generally a female name—an Azu, or Anri, or Kyou, or Suume...

That was about it, though. He should probably start looking for her while he was in Tokyo; much more convenient and accessible than his hometown, if nothing else.

Just... maybe not right now. Right now, he needed to sleep for a week.

Forgetting an umbrella on his first day at his new school felt like just par the course for his current string of luck.

The girl who joined him under the awning he’d taken shelter under did not.

Pale gold hair like starlight, eyes blue enough to make up for the muddied sky tenfold, quiet melancholy on a face so beautiful it was almost ethereal. She stood with casual confidence and enviable ease, like this was just another day to her, like she’d been like this so long she didn’t even notice that the world was hers anymore.

Which she didn’t, he guessed, but meanwhile his breath was caught in his throat, pulse throbbing in his fingertips, because oh, wow...

He’d known people looked like that in magazines, but seeing the real thing—seeing someone who was about as flesh and blood as divinity could get with his own two eyes—now this was something else.

She met his eye with a much milder surprise than his own, her confusion unfurling into a warm smile (oh) and quiet giggle (oh), and then looked away while he gaped like an idiot.

Just proof that there were all sorts of people in Tokyo, he supposed once he’d shut his mouth and scrambled his wits back together. It was a crazy city to put people like the two of them side-by-side.

Not that it really mattered.

He’d probably never see her again, and he was one of those lucky few with a soulmate he had to find besides.

Tokyo was a crazy city, but maybe... maybe it wasn’t all bad.

He saw her again.

And, for all intents and purposes, he’d be seeing her six days a week for as long as he was in the city.

Since, you know, he sat in the seat behind hers in homeroom.

Their homeroom.

The homeroom that they shared, being in the same class and the same year and the same school and all.

The school that was now buzzing with rumors about his probation and what kind of cruel, evil, morally bankrupt deeds he’d done to earn it.

Not that it... really... mattered...

It wasn’t like he’d ever had a chance in the first place, but he’d give just about anything to be entirely invisible in her eyes (and the rest of the school’s, if he was being honest) if that would mean she didn’t look at him with quite so much... alarm.

Ugh.

Oddly, it was her best friend who was the first person after Ryuji that didn’t look at him askance.

“Hey,” she said after he’d bumped into her just inside the door to the courtyard. “Don’t let them get to you. This school loves rumors.”

“What rumors?” he deadpanned, though the words were very, very welcome, he couldn’t lie.

She smiled, genuinely relieved. “I’m glad you’re doing okay.” Then the smile dropped as she looked behind him. “Ann? What’s wrong—”

The girl—Ann Takamaki, professional model at the age of 16—gave him a contorted attempt at a smile of her own and unceremoniously hauled Suzui-san away.

...Juuuuust his luck.

He was really going to go get his lunch and try to eat away his sorrows, but on his way to getting a drink from the vending machines, he heard Suzui-san’s voice from the rest area within and paused to eavesdrop.

“What do you mean, ‘don’t know how to talk to him’?”

Huh?

Apparently it was Takamaki-san she was talking to, because it was her voice that answered, “What if I mess it up?”

“Don’t you just go up and say hello? Ask how he’s settling in? This is small talk, not rocket science.”

Were they talking about... him? No way, right?

“I can’t do that!” Takamaki-san squeaked. “It’s gotta be, like, special! D-Doesn’t it...?”

“I don’t think so. He seems lonely. I bet he’d be happy even if it wasn’t special.”

“Mm...”

Right, so, it definitely wasn’t him they were talking about because he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to take the disappointment if he thought they were talking about him and they weren’t. Maybe they were talking about one of Takamaki-san’s coworkers or something.

Maybe. Probably.

Definitely not him.

“Well, if you really want it to be special, you could always start off by shoving your wrist in his face,” said Suzui-san. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“Sorry... It never seemed to be the right time.”

“It’s fine. I’m going ahead, okay? And talk to him the next time you see him.”

Takamaki-san groaned with a shluff of fabric that suggested she’d slumped in her seat, and then Suzui-san was rounding the corner and Akira had nowhere to hide.

She slowed to a stop when she saw him, pursing her lips and blinking big puppy-brown eyes.

The look faded into wry acceptance after about two seconds. Walking closer (out of Takamaki-san’s earshot?), she murmured, “You heard all that, huh.”

He nodded cautiously. No sense in denying the obvious.

She studied him for a moment, then decided, “That makes things easier... I think. Follow me for a second?”

He nodded again, still mentally trying to catch up with this new turn of events.

Suzui-san led him... in a circle. Back into the school building and out another door, then back to the vending machines, where Takamaki-san was still sitting at the table.

“Look who I found,” Suzui-san announced, and then looked at Akira expectantly until he entered the rest area.

Takamaki-san, for her part, was just as gorgeous and just as alarmed as ever. Akira was of the private opinion that the way the light played over her face and throat belonged on the silver screen... preferably aiming that look at someone who was not him.

“Ann wanted to talk to you,” said Suzui-san, the blatant liar. “I’m going back to class now. See you later!”

And with that, she left Akira alone with Takamaki-san’s steadily growing horror.

The seconds stretched out like eons as the blood drained from her face and tried to rise in his, his mind pinwheeling as he tried to grasp why Suzui-san thought Takamaki-san wanted to talk to him when she was so blatantly terrified of him.

“Um!” she finally squeaked. “Hi!”

“...You feeling okay?”

“M-me? O-oh! yeah, I’m- I’m fine!”

She was a terrible liar. That would have been adorable in any circumstances but these.

When he didn’t immediately reply, she flushed, gaze darting away as she blurted, “So! Um, how are you liking Tokyo?”

“It’s alright,” he said slowly, the eavesdropped conversation dancing through his brain. “Kind of hectic. I never knew trains could be that packed.”

That was about three times what he’d normally say, but Takamaki-san looked borderline desperate.

Seriously, what was going on here?

“Oh yeah, that shocked me too when I first moved here, y’know? I grew up in Finland and it was way quieter than here.” She was gaining her composure back piecemeal, and she managed to look him in the eye with a shy, unsteady, but real smile. “Speaking of trains, have you had the chance to check out the Underground Mall at Shibuya Station?”

“No, not yet.” Suzui-san hadn’t honestly led him here for small talk, had she?

“Oh man, you totally should,” she said, still pink-cheeked and breathless but blossoming into a vivid expressiveness that had butterflies sparkling to life in the pit of his stomach. “They have, like, everything there—you have to see it to believe it.” She scratched the back of her head, suddenly bashful. “I could, um, show you around sometime... if you want.”

His heart lodged itself in his throat, and he had to clear it to speak. “I’d like that.”

Takamaki-san actually glowed, which was putting a whole lot of holes in his theory that she was scared of him. “Great!”

(It was also putting a fair number of holes in his heart and his cool, because there was only so much a guy could do with a smile like that aimed at him and Cupid wasn’t blind.)

“Was there something you wanted me for?” he asked then, because this was good but he probably needed to leave to go cool his head down soon.

Takamaki-san sat bolt upright and flushed again. “No, well, just- just this, I mean—I really did just want to talk to you, and see how you were doing because transferring is hard, I should know, and I know I’m a little late with the welcoming committee but you should definitely check out the city, and... ugh...” She buried her face in her hands. “I’m babbling, aren’t I?”

“It’s cute,” he offered.

She shrunk in her seat and blushed right down to her collarbones. “I... don’t think this qualifies as cute.”

“You’re right; it’s adorable.”

Her head jerked up, and even her mortification was beautiful.

“That... not fair,” she said weakly.

He tilted his head with a half-smile, entirely unrepentant. Making her blush was a way bigger ego boost than he ever would have guessed.

(...If this maybe-definitely crush didn’t die a quiet death soon, meeting his soulmate was going to be a mess.)

Almost as if echoing his thoughts, Takamaki-san wrapped her hand around her wrist and squeezed. There was an enigmatic little grin on her face, her eyes bright and distant. “Guess Shiho was right after all.”

“About what?” he said, wrong-footed by the non-sequitur.

She didn’t seem to hear him. “Hey, so, um...” She dropped her head, shoes scuffing against the ground in a fidget. “There... there was something else that I... wanted to ask you about.”

He waited.

She took a deep breath, then jumped to search her pockets, muttering ah, shoot, and eventually pulling out a crumpled receipt and a pen.

He had a brief moment to think that maybe she would suggest trading numbers, but then she started sketching out a kanji.

“Y-your name...” she said, and his stomach flipped clean over. “It’s, um. It’s spelled like this, right?”

She’d written out ‘来栖 暁’ with astonishingly neat penmanship.

“Good memory,” he said, and his voice came out rough. Especially good considering that she’d only seen it once.

(Unless she hadn’t only seen it once...? whispered something in the back of his mind.)

“Y-yeah,” she said, and exhaled slowly. “And... my name is written like this.”

‘高巻 杏’

...Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

(Maybe this rapidly growing crush wouldn’t be that much of a mess after all.)

He wasn’t sure what his face looked like at that moment, but it was enough to make her chest shift in a gasp in his peripheral vision. He was still kind of stuck on the 高巻 杏 part.

Then she started shifting her sleeves, and the glimpse of skin under them had his full attention.

And, there, like a dream, was his name.

“April ninth, around two P.M.,” she said, this actual goddess with a shy smile and his name on her wrist.

“I... was asleep on the train,” he croaked dumbly, then belatedly thought to offer his own wrist to confirm.

The look on her face made him wish that he’d done it ages ago. Timid trepidation met honest joy and unfiltered relief, stained-glass hues of emotion painting her face like art.

The sleeve slipped to cover his name when she went to push her bangs to the side, then rub the back of her head, then, mind apparently made up, she stood and walked over to face him.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, offering a hand—for him to shake, for him to leave his heart in—and meeting his eye, endless wells of sky blue and just as open, just as enticing. “I’m Ann Takamaki, and I’m your soulmate.”

It took three weeks for Ann to dig her old list back up.

She went through the whole thing, checking off almost all of them, then adding amendments to the rest and then checking them off.

Shiho, who was hanging out to borrow Ann’s 3DS, button-mashed what sounded like a combo and said, “I still can’t believe you managed to get the hair and eyes right.”

Ann flushed, pen hovering over the page. Her most recent memory of ‘the hair’ was the way it felt tangled in her fingers and the low groan that had rumbled in his chest when she tightened her grip just so, and her most recent memory of ‘the eyes’ was how the looked when they were glazed and dark and a little bit wild.

“Oh, well, y’know. I have a type.”

“Or psychic powers,” said Shiho, teasing.

Ann sat up. “Oh man, you think?”

“Better start picking out your title now,” Shiho agreed, then muttered, “Ah! Darn...”

Ann flopped back on the bed and held the list high above her. “Ann Takamaki, finder-of-the-Perfect-10-who-is-also-her-soulmate!”

“Rejected. It’s too long.”

“Guess I’ll have to think on it.” She let out that sigh sitting high in her throat.

Then she rolled over and grabbed her phone, because Akira might have some good ideas (or some funny ones, or some intended to make her blush down to her toes), and she really wanted to see if she could make him smile again (coaxing them out was becoming her new favorite pastime), and she had a really funny story to tell him about looking out for the perfect guy and finding out that she'd been unknowingly looking for her soulmate all along.

She was pretty sure he’d be able to appreciate the humor.