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Fuyumi had never been allowed to wear anything with a low neckline. Not for any of the usual reasons of propriety and modesty, but because her soulmark was scrawled messily across her collarbone, deep black lines stamped just below the hollow of her throat. Fuck yeah I’m the oh shit it’s you
Had she been a normal child, she was sure she would have spent many a sleepover giggling over it with friends, musing on what might be stamped into her soulmate’s skin to elicit such a reaction. Unfortunately, she was the eldest remaining child of the Number Two Hero, which meant no sleepovers at friends’ houses, and like hell was she inviting anyone into their home for the night. Father would never have approved, anyways. She’d all but stopped seeing the words, after a while, the black scrawl across her collarbone just another stretch of skin. It was more habit than anything else, continuing to keep it covered when she wasn’t at school, and lucky her the fashion this year was high-necked dresses with bare backs.
Father had insisted that they all show up for this event, even Mother had agreed to attend on his arm, and it wouldn’t do for the Number One Hero’s famlly to be dressed in anything but the best, when all eyes were set to be on them after, well, everything.
“You look lovely.” Mother smiled when Fuyumi finally left her room, dress fitted perfectly and hair tucked up with a comb which complemented its purple-bronze shimmer. Mother’s dress looked like liquid silver, long fitted sleeves and a skirt which rippled like water around her legs when she moved, collar so wide it nearly touched the shoulder seams. Her earrings sparkled, thin strands of glittering crystal which dripped nearly to her bared shoulders, and Fuyumi recalled the smile on her mother’s face when she’d opened that box, so many Christmases ago. Father, she recalled distantly, had said he would be wearing gold.
“You too.” she said, a beat too late, and took her mother’s proffered elbow.
“The boys are already waiting at the car.” Mother said, leading her to the front of the house. “They’ve grown so much, I can hardly believe it.” her smile was wistful, fully aware of the lost years between them. Fuyumi squeezed her elbow gently, and let silence hang between them as they left the house. Mother paused, fishing a key from her purse, and Fuyumi took the moment to observe her brothers. Their suits matched in cut, Shouto’s a lovely red-gold with an ice blue tie and Natsuo’s white-gold with a deeper blue kerchief sticking up out of his breast pocket.
“Your tie’s done wrong.” she informed Natsuo. He lifted his hand, but any rude gesture he’d intended was aborted as Mother turned around.
“I’ll fix it in the car.” Mother said, a fond smile playing at her lips, creasing the corners of her eyes. “We’ll be late if we don’t hurry.”
“Yes, Mom.” Natsuo rolled his eyes. Shouto, ever the little gentleman, held the door open for them and climbed in last, tucking himself up against Fuyumi’s side. The ride was shorter than she’d expected, and the glare of cameras when they got out far more blinding. Shouto peeled off as soon as he could, making a beeline towards a knot of his classmates in vibrant suits and dresses bearing the colours of their hero costumes. Actually, on second glance she thought the new Ingenium was actually wearing his costume, sans helmet. Well, it was somewhat acceptable for Heros to wear their equipment to events such as this, especially if they’d volunteered to be on the lookout for trouble.
Natsuo led Mother off to find food, and Fuyumi found herself alone at the edge of the dance floor, idly accepting a fluted drink from the tray of a passing server. Something in her twisted and coiled, a nervous energy that left her unable to fathom sitting down with her family, her feet finding their way around the edge of the dance floor in search of something she could not name.
Her eyes caught on a cluster of younger pros, near to her own age. Hawks and Miruko and Mount Lady, the latter two laughing at something Hawks was saying. Fuyumi meandered her way towards them, and as she approached Mount Lady took Hawks by the shoulder, steering him out onto the dance floor despite what looked to be protests. Presumably he was saying he couldn’t dance, given the smirk which adorned Miruko’s face. “So, you’re the Number Four Hero.” she said, catching Miruko’s eyes and then dropping her gaze to the knotted flesh where her arm simply ended, just below the bicep. “Even with-”
“Fuck yeah, Im’ the-” Miruko jerked, eyes widening. “Oh shit, it’s you.”
Fuyumi’s hand flew to her collarbone, the black words scrawled there burning under her fingertips even through the fabric of her dress. She caught a flash of Miruko’s thigh, revealed by the high slit in her skirt, and her heart tumbled in her chest at the sight of her own handwriting printed on Miruko’s tanned, scarred skin. It glowed now, the light a molten gold, confirmation that the words were hers, had always been meant for her.
“I can’t believe you stuck me with swear words for my soulmark.” she said, the words escaping her lips before she could think better of them. Miruko stared, then threw back her head and laughed, loud and brash and unafraid, everything Fuyumi had never been.
“Trade-off, I guess.” she patted her thigh. “You gave me my rank.”
“Seems I got the short end of that stick.” she said, a smile tugging at her lips as the warmth of her soulmark diffused through her body. “I’m Todoroki Fuyumi.” she held out her hand politely.
“Rabbit Hero Miruko.” Miruko grabbed her hand firmly. “But you can call me Rumi-chan.” her teeth glinted in the crystal light of the chandeliers, far sharper than a rabbit’s had any right to be. “Oh, Endeavour’s gonna hate this.”
Fuyumi’s heart rammed without warning against the inside of her ribs, but before her knees could weaken at the thought of Father’s disapproval Miruko was at her side, an arm around her waist, body searingly warm where they touched. Their dresses, she noted absently, had the same neckline, though Miruko’s had a narrower skirt with silvery stars embroidered on deep blue fabric. Over her chest sat a crescent moon, just as it was on her hero costume. She was, inarguably, beautiful.
“Hey, hey.” her arm tightened around Fuyumi’s waist, guiding her away from the dance floor. “I was joking, doll.”
“He’s not going to be happy, though.” Fuyumi said, her voice gone small. She sipped at the drink in her hand, let the fizz of it tingle at the back of her throat. Not champagne, but sparkling cider. Well, she supposed with the children here the alcohol couldn’t just be out on the floor.
“Ah, fuck him.” Miruko scoffed. “So three quarters of his kids are gay, what’s that matter?”
“Three quarters?” Fuyumi frowned.
“Yeah, I’ve met Touya’s boyfriend.” Miruko chuckled. “Well, more like he came and crashed on my couch and bitched at me about how unfair it was he got soulbonded to a villain. But he’s just Like That.”
Fuyumi wondered on that for a moment, then shook her head. “Regardless, I doubt he’ll approve.”
“If he tries anything, I’ll kick his teeth in.” Miruko promised, and Fuyumi could feel the eagerness behind her words, the barely-there tremor of excitement down her soulmate’s arm around her back.
“Well, Mother will be happy to meet you, at least.” she said after a moment, setting aside the issue of her soulmate’s eagerness for violence for later. “And we can mock Natsuo for being the only one of us not to have met his yet.”
“Ooh, meeting the family already?” Miruko grinned, her eyes sparkling. “I’m flattered, usually I scare folks off before we get to that.”
“Well, you are my soulmate.” Fuyumi slid her arm around Miruko’s back, taking over guiding their path until they curved around to the small table Natsuo and Mother had claimed, most of the remainder of the seats filled by Shouto and his friends, his soulmate sitting at his side, their fingers wound together beneath the table. It was cute, and Fuyumi’s heart flared warm at the sight. It was good, she thought, that Shouto got to have this. Something so simple and uncomplicated as a soulmate met in class, a lifetime ahead of them both to figure each other out.
“Mother.” she said as they approached, and Miruko at her side turned ever so slightly, causing her dress to fall open up her thigh, revealing the fading glow of Fuyumi’s neat handwriting.
“Hiya Mom.” Fuyumi grinned, and one of Shouto’s friends squealed in delight, grabbing Shouto’s soulmate and shaking him, sending his curls flying out of a slicked-down style which his mother must have spent forever perfecting.
“You must be Fuyumi’s soulmate.” Mother smiled, gesturing to the empty seats next to her.
“Got it in one.” Miruko shot a pair of finger guns at Mother, and Fuyumi resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands.
“Now you know how I feel.” Shouto muttered darkly, only barely loud enough for her to hear, nearly lost in his classmate’s excited babbling.
“It’s very nice to meet you...”
“Usagiyama Rumi.” Miruko introduced herself. “Fuyu’s the only one who gets to call me Rumi-chan, just so you know.”
“Of course.” Mother nodded, as if this was a perfectly normal conversation to be having. Fuyumi fell into the remaining empty seat, and wondered if maybe she shouldn’t’ve asked her soulmate to be a tad less brash for meeting her family the first time. But then, she supposed, if they were going to be seeing more of each other then her family would have to get used to it eventually.
“So, what did Fuyumi say to you to make you cuss at her?” Natsuo asked. This time Fuyumi did drop her head in her hands. Mother reached over and patted her on the shoulder consolingly.