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o.
It started out as a legend – two souls separated at creation, two souls that make up one whole, two halves of one soul completed upon connection.
Two becoming one.
But legends are legends for a reason – mythical, mysterious, only with a hint of a truth.
Soulmarks began appearing even before the dawn of quirks –little symbols that litter the body, one that you could only call your own. One that only you could share to whom you so ever desire. It varies in shapes and colors, some being a butterfly tinged in red and orange, others an ocean wave the shade of green, and to some more, it covers a palm, a thigh, a foot. Unlike its legendary counterpart, however, a soulmark does not lead you to a soulmate. Instead, it leads you to one where you can feel whole.
A soulmark is a symbol of love and friendship given in trust and good faith – one that cannot be taken, one that only be passed on.
A soulmark is a symbol of warmth and everlasting connection – one that is stronger than flesh and blood.
A soulmark is a symbol of home – one that you choose for yourself.
One person can have as many as the stars in the sky and as few as the petals of a clover.
And Izuku? Izuku only has his own, his mother’s, and the black mark of one Bakugo Katsuki.
After all, no one wants to share the mark of a useless, quirkless, little Deku.
And so, however sacred, Kacchan had cut his own connection with Izuku, both of them bearing the ashen remnants of a once golden sun and a viridian shooting star – the pain of which Izuku found more unbearable than the explosions that kissed his skin.
And Izuku no longer believed in soulmates.
Not when the world was so intent on pushing him down and pushing him away, not when no one would stand up for him and with him, not when the only love and care he had ever known came from the woman who had loved him the most.
So Izuku never shared the mark on his wrist with anyone, never the light of the shooting star that brightens up the dark sky, never the stardust that falls on the earth, never the ray of hope he had held even in the darkest of times, keeping it hidden in long sleeves, wristwatches, and bandages. And at all times he keeps covered the blackened sun that rests on his heart, refusing to see the ashes of a friendship no longer alive, refusing to acknowledge the searing pain that would accompany the sight. Instead, as always, he keeps close the mint green lotus that rests on the base of his right ear, his eyes never not seeing it each morning, afternoon, and night – the one and only reminder that he is loved.
He is loved.
He is loved.
And he lets himself be content with that.
i.
The first of many soulmarks that Izuku will treasure came from the man that he had idolized his whole life.
Yagi Toshinori, for all his time as the Symbol of Peace (and more the time he had spent alive), only carries with him four marks, not counting his own. Izuku doesn’t ask when he sees. He doesn’t think it is polite to, especially when most people aren’t interested in bonding with a quirkless child (and although All Might already knew he was quirkless and didn’t deny him this chance to train, the man’s initial denial of his dream still stings). He doesn’t ask about the faded crescent moon that rests on his collarbone (it isn’t nice to ask about the dead, after all), nor about the black spaded horse on his left ankle (he was shocked at first, upon seeing this lost connection, and his heart ached at the thought that even All Might had to bear the pain of losing someone he had once loved so dearly). He doesn’t ask about the violet sigil of a fish on his shoulder blade nor the diamond glasses near his scar. He doesn’t ask about any of these things.
Instead he asks about experiences – what was it like to be a hero of his caliber? Was he ever afraid of anything? Was there ever a time that he was unable to save someone? What was he like as a student? Did Dagobah Beach mean something special to him? Things that the world weren’t privy to – things that he didn’t know were personal.
Things that would’ve only been known if All Might had chosen him as his soulmate.
And All Might did.
One day, at Dagobah Beach, after the world had finally met the man behind All Might, Toshinori Yagi had offered his ocean blue sunflower tucked on the opposite side of where the faded moon resided and had asked Izuku if he had wanted to carry his soulmark.
And Izuku… flinched.
Because to hold another’s soulmark would mean to be aware of them at all times – to feel their warmth despite the distance, to know with one brush of a hand the feelings that lay in their hearts, to give them comfort even in the presence of an absence.
To bear a soulmark is to be eternally connected.
And Izuku had been burned by the loss of it.
And he is scared, afraid, terrified – because to be All Might’s successor is one thing. To be given his quirk and his legacy is a dream come true but to be his soulmate? To be near him? To know him and be known by him in return? It’s terrifying.
And yet… and yet… Izuku takes this fear and lets it be known.
In quiet whispers, jumbled words, and a steady stream of tears.
Because deep down, Izuku longs to be connected.
And it is in the act of letting someone close does he remember what it feels like to be loved.
ii.
The second one, surprisingly, came in the form of a little girl.
A quiet, frightened, injured little girl who had ran away from a monster of a man.
Eri bumped into him during his first patrol with Lemillion and this mess of child with a stature so small and eyes too scared clung to him for dear life – and Izuku’s soul ached.
Izuku took one look at the man with the bird mask, one look at Lemillion, one look at this little girl, and made up his mind.
“Eri,” he whispered, “do you trust me?”
It was a stupid question, he knew, but a soulmark is something to be given in trust – a treasure to be received in good faith.
“You’re good,” Eri answered just as softly, little hands clinging to his costume. “You’re warm.”
Izuku doesn’t know if Eri feels the same pull, the same fierce protectiveness that forces its way into his heart, and he knows that this is more his own desire to keep her safe than any other force telling him that she was a part of his own soul.
Because Eri mattered regardless.
And Eri was worth keeping safe.
So for the first time in a long time, Izuku removes the bandage that hides his own soulmark and he shows it to Eri.
“This will keep you safe for me,” he tells her, “this will let you know I’m here.”
In the background he hears the tense conversation coming to a halt, sees the way the man’s eyes turn to look at Eri, and he knows he doesn’t have time.
“This is a promise.”
And Eri stares at it for little while, hands reaching to the shooting star. “A promise,” she repeats, and with a little nod and hopeful eyes, Izuku places a finger on her arm, just beneath her sleeves, and let their foreheads touch.
The words come to him unbidden, the way words do when you give someone a piece of your soul – a promise to be fulfilled, a wish to be granted, a part of you that will forever be a part of them.
“I will always come for you.”
And he did.
iii.
Not counting his own nor Kacchan’s, Izuku has two soulmarks on his body.
One from his mother, another from All Might.
He didn’t ask for Eri’s and she hadn’t offered in return.
Eri was as afraid of her soulmark as much as she is afraid of her quirk.
Cursed, she calls the silver dove wreathed in yellow petals on her ankle. Cold, she thinks of it. It will still be a long way to go, Izuku assumes, but as long as Eri can feel his warmth, his presence, that would be enough.
The third one, interestingly enough, was in the image of an aquamarine heart, with its curves jagged and cornered, just as a gem so precious and true.
Kouta gave it to him as gift, as a thank you, as something for Izuku to remember him by.
Kouta didn’t ask for Izuku’s own soulmark, didn’t even breathe a word about it. Instead the little boy ran up to him, little arms wrapping him in a hug, and said,
“I’ll always be cheering you on.”
And when Izuku sees the way Kouta’s soulmark shine, he accepted it without a second thought.
And when Kouta pulled away afterwards, face pulled in a frown, Izuku tried to ignore the fear that stabbed his own heart. He wondered if he would make a world record, an ashen mark as soon as he had received it, but Kouta dispelled his fears just as easily.
“That felt weird,” Kouta said. Izuku blinked at him, his mind taking a minute to process, until he caught up. Then he laughed and laughed because he feels exactly what Kouta feels – the disappointment, the confusion, the curiosity… and the underlying overwhelming emotion of it all.
Unbridled joy.
The elation of having someone know you – of being accepted, treasured, remembered.
He also felt the embarrassment that followed as Kouta turned as red as his shoes.
iv.
The soulmark exchange with Shinsou had been quiet.
It happened on the night of their second year when they both stumbled upon each other in the kitchen at the forsaken 2am hour did Shinsou spring up the topic.
“You don’t have that many soulmarks, do you?” the question was genuine, as far as Izuku can tell, and although the boy was rough around the edges, he knew it was due to the fact that Shinsou had so little support in life and was untrusting of all that Izuku had felt a kindred spirit in that regard.
They have observed the people around them, of course, and have noticed that everyone at least had five. A family member, a best friend from childhood, a classmate they never got lost in contact with.
Izuku stole a glance at the back of his right hand, at the blue heart settled at base of his forefinger and thumb and hummed an agreement. “No, I don’t,” he agreed, letting stiff fingers be warmed by his tea. He doesn’t return the question to Shinsou, knowing that it was a touchy subject for the other boy, but he did wonder, “Why do you ask?”
They don’t talk about it much, these colorful marks on their skin. They don’t talk about how a brush of hand over the little symbols can feel as warm as an embrace, how fear isn’t so scary when someone else sends you courage, how silence isn’t deafening when someone knows to listen.
It is in moments like these that they listen.
Izuku listens to Shinsou’s own quiet humming, the way the gears in his mind seem to move, the way he figures out how to phrase the words he wants to say next. And Izuku has been thinking about it – had been for the past few months.
Will his classmates ever want a piece of his soul?
He could tell that Uraraka does. He could tell that Iida would want one, too, but a soulmark is something that’s rarely asked for due to its sacred nature – it is freely given, after all, and never to be taken lightly. And Izuku had never offered. He had wanted to, of course, but he knows how messy his mind can get. He knows how anxious he can be. It’s why he had given his to Eri in a pace that is both hidden and seen, something she had to reach out for so she could feel. Izuku could not yet know what Eri is thinking or feeling, nor will he ever have inkling to unless she so desired, and Izuku is completely fine with that.
After all, a soulmark is a connection of souls – but it didn’t have to be an exchange. What it did mean though is that for one who bears the soul of another is to be aware of them – to be able to feel their warmth and develop an understanding of their soul. It is not to read their minds nor to know everything about them, but it is about the intimacy of knowing someone and being known.
A commitment.
A promise.
Like an artwork waiting to be completed, like a dance you can take to heart, a soulmark is connection that bridges the gap between someone you know and someone you choose forever.
“I don’t get it,” Shinsou finally said, and Izuku turned his eyes to him, the question lost in his tongue. “You have a strong and flashy quirk, you have so many people who love you and would fight the world for you, heck Uraraka and Iida would probably murder someone for you if you ask them, and yet you don’t have their marks and… they don’t have yours. I know I’m not good at this thing but at the very least, people give their marks away as easy as they’re giving candy. And you guys are pretty close, so I don’t get it.”
And the pain of burning that bridge is the same as losing a piece of your soul. Izuku absentmindedly reaches for his heart, the ashen remains of Kacchan’s soulmark embedded on his skin still, and he tries his best to forget.
Izuku looks instead at the clock in the kitchen, noting that it’s only 2:17am, and asks if Shinsou would like to listen to a story.
And they left the kitchen at 5:00am, only to crash in the couch, heart heavy yet full, mind settled and secured, souls at ease, and both boys sharing a mark they never expected to kiss their skin.
v.
The night Izuku had laid bare his soul for someone else to see, when it was him who had reached out first before someone else had offered, when he had done it so willingly and freely, it felt as if something has shifted within him – and in all the remaining years he had spent in UA, he was able to garner a couple more soulmarks for his own. He finally had the pink milky way that was Uraraka’s, the red lighting storm that was Iida’s, and Todoroki’s fiery white snowflake.
And to think that before all of this, before meeting All Might, before knowing these people and being known in return, Izuku was afraid and alone – afraid of the vulnerability that came along with letting people in.
To think that all he had ever thought about when he thought of soulmates were fireworks kissing his skin, long fingers bruising his arms, and taunts and jeers haunting his every waking moment – but now he is surrounded by love and warmth. Now when he thinks of soulmates, he thinks of mochi in the common kitchen, tea in hand; he thinks of morning jogs and healthy breakfast; he thinks of cold soba and cats; he thinks of unicorns and sprinkles and little kids and coloring books; he thinks of training sessions and laughter and peace.
Now when Izuku thinks of soulmates, he thinks of home.
And speaking of home, he can’t wait to get back to their apartment and give his mom the biggest of hugs. They had always called even when he was away and even when they would consistently send little taps through their soulmark, nothing still beats the warmth of a real embrace – and this is what Izuku fixes his mind on as he cleans out his dorm room, packing away every picture frame, books, notebooks, clothes, and figurines. Graduation is in a few days and after that, their debut to hero society. None of them would have enough time to clear out by then.
Izuku packs away the memories, just as he did each item that reminds him of it, and keeps them close in his heart. He packs away the ten million headband, the plushies from the cultural festival, the cards he had received from Eri and Kouta, and he tries his best not to feel emotional. He didn’t want to flood the dorms one last time, after all, but he did think it would be nice to have Aizawa-sensei scold him for being a problem child through and through but ultimately, it was the knock at his door that helps him succeed.
A knock, quiet and soft, and he opens the door to find Kacchan standing at the other side.
Their relationship had improved over the years.
Kacchan is… less angry now, more settled. He’s still fiery and explosive but he doesn’t lash out anymore. Kirishima, Kaminari, the Bakusquad had been good to him and for him and Izuku had never been gladder about it. He had long stopped dreaming of the day that their relationship would be fixed – he and Kacchan had grown up, grown apart, and even when they drift back together, he is well aware that it would never be the same way again.
He doesn’t ask for it to.
He loves Kacchan, yes, with all his heart, but Izuku now knows that love does not have to be reciprocated for it to be real – but to still be loved in return is a precious treasure he keeps close.
“Hey, Kacchan, do you need something?”
And Kacchan looks at him, face pensive, mouth opening and closing, thinking and grasping and failing to think of the words he wants to say, and something in Izuku feels warm. After some time, the other boy settles with, “Are you busy?”
And if it was at any other time before, Izuku would’ve dropped everything that he had been doing and say no, he wasn’t busy, of course he had the time – but Izuku’s eyes sway to soulmarks on his arm and he steals a look at the digital clock by his table.
“I have thirty minutes,” was what Izuku told him. “I promised Todoroki we’d drop by the store to get his favorite soba since they’re not available near his house. I have time tomorrow morning thought if that works for you. I can cancel the morning jog with Iida if – “
“Thirty minutes is fine,” Kacchan answered back, cutting his rumbling off. It wasn’t harsh or angry. Just… very Kacchan-ish.
“Okay. Do you waant to step in? it’s a bit messy though, I still haven’t finished packing.”
And when Izuku heard the small tsk as he moved aside for Kacchan to pass through, he knew that the other boy won’t mind his mess. He felt a little grateful at that, to not be judged within the confines of his small room. They were silent for a few more second but it wasn’t the kind of silence that would make him uncomfortable. It was companionable, to say the least, and Izuku began picking up the pieces he had left before Kacchan had knocked and continued his packing. In another minute, Kacchan was helping him.
“Are you bringing the bookshelf home?”
“Nope, Aizawa-sensei said I could leave it here. Are you taking yours?”
“Thinking about it. Mine’s too small and I don’t want to waste money on something I can recycle. Do you have bubble wrap for the merch?”
“In the third drawer by the study table. I have newspapers too if that’s better.”
“Oh, Kacchan, that one goes in the other box.”
“Why? What’s the difference?”
“All my signed books are in one place.”
“Just how many posters do you fucking have?”
“Oh, come on, don’t pretend you don’t have just as many.”
“I’m not a hero-worshipping nerd like you, dumbass.”
“Says the guy who zonks out at 8pm.”
“Fuck you, asshole!”
“Kacchan, that’s limited edition!”
“I’m sorry.”
“…”
“For everything.”
“…”
“It was pretty messed up, the things I did, and I know sorry won’t fix this.”
“Can you pass me the tape, Kacchan?”
“…”
“Thank you.”
“You don’t have to forgive me.”
“Please put this box by the bed.”
“Okay.”
“…”
“…”
“You’re right, I don’t have to forgive you.”
“…”
“But I already did.”
“Deku…”
“It won’t fix what’s broken and it won’t stop the sting from the soulmark but…”
“…”
“We’re better now, aren’t we?”
“…”
“Kacchan, we’re better now.”
“You missed the night light.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“…”
“…”
“And it’s only going to get better, right?”
“…”
“…”
“Of course.”
“You’re still a sappy piece of shit.”
“Well, I’m not the one who’s crying, am I?”
“Fuck you.”
“Whatever you say, Kacchan.”