Chapter Text
There are certain moments in life that take your breath away, moments in which time seems to ground to a halt, moments where the world feels like it has stopped spinning. However, time stops for no one and the world keeps moving forward, disregarding the momentous and possibly life-altering events that affected you so deeply. The endless, steady passage of time continues on and in order not to be left behind, eventually, you do too. Those moments that seemed to do the impossible and knock time off course still haunt you though. Lurking behind you, ready to pounce and restore balance to the stream of time.
~~~~~
Two Minutes and Thirty-Seven Seconds
That is the amount of time it took after a certain, at the time nameless, baby boy was born before the mark was noticed. The nurse was the first one to see it. The umbilical cord had just been cut, a section put aside for the new parents to take home. As the healthcare practitioner held the child, a patch of black on his upper left shoulder caught her eye. A smile graced her face when she realised what it was. Turning the child toward his mother, the words ‘soulmate mark’ were heard drifting through the room. The first time mother, Orihara Kyouko, reached out toward her baby. Her fingers softly caressed the mark on his shoulder. Postpartum pain tinting her vision, it took a few seconds for the words to register. When they did, however, the effect was immediate. A gasp of shock left the mothers mouth as she turned her face upward, eyes silently imploring the nurse to tell her what she saw was wrong. Seeing this reaction, the caretaker glanced down to actually read the words. The inky strokes curled their way around his upper arm, seemingly innocent and elegant, pointing toward an optimistic future of love and happiness. The meaning of those symbols, however, promised an entirely different future.
Seventeen Minutes and Fifty Two Seconds
That’s how long after the baby was delivered that his father was informed his firstborn was a healthy boy. No one said anything about the mark. It wasn’t until Orihara Shirou stood before the nursery peering in, that he discovered it. An instant wave of trepidation crashed over him. Still, he hoped for the best and tried to convince himself that the mark was not an ominous omen that would haunt his son for the rest of his life. What he wished for his son was a life full of meaningful interactions with the people around him. He wanted his firstborn to see lots of things in life, to take in all that humanity had to offer him. He did not want his child to be defined by the meaning of the words marking him. Furthermore, he wanted him to grow past that and embrace what he could be. A warm smile ghosting his face, Shirou decided on the perfect name for the newborn he was presently captivated by. He just hoped that the public office would allow it.
Nine Months and Thirteen Days
That’s how old the baby, now entered into his families register as Orihara Izaya, was when he first mentioned the mark. In the months leading up to this, his parents had occasionally noticed the infants’ inquisitive gaze catching the mark. His curious fingers would scratch at the symbols, already aware that the black writing was an anomaly. It soon became a custom in the Orihara household for the youngest member to be dressed in long sleeve shirts and sweaters. It wasn’t that his parents were embarrassed by the words branded into their baby’s arm. Rather they wished to avoid the pitiful looks and sad glances that they had been bombarded with on the day he was born. They didn't want people to judge him based on a few words that he had no control over. Still, they could not hide the mark forever, especially not from the one who bore it.
Orihara Izaya was not a difficult baby. For the most part, he was content by himself and not overly fussy. His parents realised soon after he was born that their baby possessed an unusual awareness of the world around him. His developmental growth also seemed to progress at a faster pace as he grew older. By nine and a half months, he uttered his first word. His mother had been the only one home at the time. She had been in the midst of preparing him for the evening bath when it happened. As she freed his head from the confines of his shirt, his fingers were instantly drawn to the mark. Sighing, Kyouko reached down to brush them away. Before she could complete this task, however, her baby looked upward, catching her eye. His expression was contemplative and alert, causing him to seem older than he was. His fingers remained fixed to the mark on his upper arm as he uttered his first word.
“What?”
It was a simple enough question, one that Kyouko knew would eventually come up. However, she had not anticipated it arising this early. Stumbling to respond, she muttered something about it being a sign of love and happiness, hoping it would placate the curious infant. Izaya was far from satisfied. His limited grasp of linguistics and the Japanese language though led to the conversation ending and bathtime continuing.
Four Years and Six Months
That’s how old Orihara Izaya was when he first discovered the meaning of the words on his shoulder. Throughout the first few years of his life, he had returned to the conversation of the mark again and again. His parents’ hesitation to tell him the meaning of it piqued his interest and made him more determined than ever to uncover the mystery surrounding it. So far he had gauged that it was a soulmate mark. From what his parents had told him, the marks had no set rules. Some people, like him, were born with them. For others, they showed up later in life. The words themselves were supposed to be relationship defining. It was something their soulmate would say to them, either when they first met or sometime later as their relationship developed. Some people had no mark at all, while others did but never found their matching piece. From a young age the concept fascinated Izaya, he often found himself on the lookout for marks on other people while outside for excursions to the park. He wondered if the people knew who their soulmates were. He wondered what the marks said and what they meant. And he wondered how his mark played into all of it.
At four and a half, Izaya had managed to teach himself some basic hiragana and katakana. While the other kids in his hoikuen knew the occasional letter, he was determined to learn as many as possible and to learn the meaning of the mark on his shoulder. When he finally did put the meaning of the symbols together, he was surprised. At first, he was convinced he had read it wrong. However, after meticulously comparing the lines to the symbols in his book, he realised it was correct. Suddenly his parents’ apprehension made sense. Placing the book down on his bedroom floor, Izaya began to laugh and laugh and laugh. Even at the tender age of four, he realised the irony of the words and what they were supposed to symbolise. Soulmate marks were supposed to be a beacon of hope, a promise that there was someone out there for you, someone who would love you unconditionally. Izaya’s mark was an insult to that narrative. Instead of tender words of love and adoration, his skin was forever marred by the words;
気に入らねえ I don’t like you