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21 June 2008
On Shōyō Hinata’s twelfth birthday, he received his soulmate tattoo.
Everyone did, when they reached that age - neat, clean kanji of their soulmate’s name appeared on their skin somewhere at midnight. The most common spot Shōyō had seen on people was their inner arms, his own mother having hers etched into her wrist.
She had sat him down that morning, cooked him breakfast as she always did and poured him a glass of water. Her tattoo was hidden underneath her sleeve, but she didn’t go out of her way to conceal it; she was always upfront with Shōyō about the fact that sometimes, soulmates didn’t work out, and that was okay.
Shōyō nodded at her sentiment, one he had heard hundreds of times before. He finished eating before running outside to play, too much energy stored up in his small body. It was his last day being eleven, and he wanted to spend it with friends in the summer sunshine.
He spent the day in the park near his house, and as the golden sun began to slip beneath the horizon, his mother called him inside. His friends, Izumi and Kōji, would be there soon to celebrate his birthday-they’d eat cake and watch a scary movie and stay up far too late, waiting for Shōyō’s tattoo to appear.
Shōyō kicked off his shoes near the front door, the smell of Tamago Kake Gohan wafting through the house. He wandered into the kitchen to see his mother cooking, three places set out at the table.
“Why are you making breakfast for dinner?” He inquired, earning a loving ear pinching from his mother.
“Because it’s a special day, Shōyō. You’ll be twelve at midnight.”
Shōyō smiled, excited.
A knock echoed from the front door, causing Shōyō to skitter through the house and throw it open. Izumi and Kōji stood on his stoop, armed with a battalion of pillows and blankets. In Kōji’s left hand was a large gift-wrapped box, which Shōyō’s mother took from him and told her son he could open it in the morning. Shōyō couldn’t find it in himself to complain, what with his two best friends over for a sleepover party.
They ate their dinner and then their cake, which was messily decorated with rainbow sprinkles. They bid Shōyō’s mother a goodnight and clambered upstairs, promptly changing into their pajamas and huddling together underneath Shōyō’s soft, striped comforter.
Izumi, who had received his tattoo three months prior and considered himself something of an expert on the subject, grabbed Shōyō’s tiny hand and pulled him in close.
“Shou-chan, are you excited for your tattoo to come? Nervous? Scared?” He whispered, his eyes shining with curiosity. Shōyō giggled, ruffling his spiky red hair.
“I think I’m everything! I’m exnerared .”
“Exnerared?!” Kōji exclaimed.
“Yeah! Excited, nervous, scared. Exnerared!” Shōyō explained happily.
“Do you have someone you want it to be? What about Yokoyama-san? Or Tanaka-chan?” Izumi asked, leading Shōyō to do some contemplating.
Cho Yokoyama was taller than Shōyō, but most people were. She was on the girls’ volleyball team, and she had very long hair that she styled in two braids. She was always very kind to Shōyō, and she often smelled like strawberries.
Katsumi Tanaka was very quiet and very smart. She was one of very few people that insisted she call Shōyō “Hinata-kun,” instead of the cutesy nickname everyone else referred to him by. She had narrow blue eyes and short hair, and Shōyō believed that she was kind in her own unique way.
“I don’t know. I think it would be more fun to get someone I haven’t met yet!” Shōyō decided, clasping Izumi’s hand between his own. Kōji smiled, showing off his crooked front tooth.
“Well, three minutes to midnight! Get ready!”
The three boys popped their heads up from inside the comforter, resting them against Shōyō’s pale green pillows. The room was bathed in darkness, save for the distorted light pooling on the wooden floor below Shōyō’s window.
The ticks of the clock on Shōyō’s nightstand became louder by the second, penetrating the young boy’s head and filling him with anxiety. He felt his palms grow sweaty, and he tried to inconspicuously wipe them on his plaid pants.
“One minute!” Izumi exclaimed. Shōyō felt his stomach drop and his throat dry up, the prospect of what was actually happening to him settling in at last. He was about to find out who he’d most likely spend the rest of his life with - someone he’d live with, someone he’d share all his secrets with. Someone he’d kiss. Someone who’d kiss him back and love him for all of his imperfections.
Shōyō suddenly felt a prickle of pain in his back. It was sharp and stinging, and seemed to spread down the length of his spine.
“My back! In between my shoulders!” He exclaimed, sending Izumi and Kōji into a frenzy. Izumi forced him out of his tee shirt and onto his stomach while Kōji fumbled around for a flashlight, shining it on Shōyō’s pale skin.
“I see it! It’s appearing!” Kōji squealed.
“What does it say?!” Shōyō asked frantically, wishing he had eyes in the back of his head.
“T-To… Tobi… Tobio! That’s the first one!” Izumi read, running his finger against Shōyō’s spine. Kōji cleared his throat.
“It means flying hero, I think.” He said. Kōji was really into names and their meanings, which Shōyō felt infinitely grateful for at that moment. The pain was quickly subsiding, flushing out of his back with ease.
“ Tobio Kageyama . That’s your soulmate.”
“But Tobio is a boy’s name.” Kōji pointed out. Shōyō wrinkled his nose - he hadn’t thought that his soulmate would be another boy, but he didn’t find himself completely disturbed by the idea. His thoughts were cut short as the stabbing pain suddenly returned, gathering in the middle of his back. Shōyō jerked his head around, alarming his two friends.
“What’s wrong, Shou-chan?” Izumi asked.
“My back still hurts, is something happening?” He asked, a twinge of fear in his voice.
“I think… you’re getting another tattoo?” Kōji said, confusion evident in his tone. Shōyō’s head spun, a million questions flooding his mind.
“Well, what does it say?”
“ H-Hotaru Tsukishima .” Kōji read slowly. Shōyō shuddered. The prickle didn’t fade this time, it just descended farther down his spine and pooled in the small of his back.
“There’s another.” Izumi noted, pressing his fingertip into Shōyō’s skin.
“Three? How does someone have three soulmates?” Shōyō exclaimed, baffled.
“I don’t know. But the last one says Tadashi Yamaguchi. ”
The pain finally subsided, and Shōyō flew off of his bed to stand in front of his mirror. There they were; three neat, nice names decorated his formerly unblemished back. Three names that belonged to three people who’d love him.
He couldn’t help but smile at the tattoos - after all, they were precious presents he had received from fate. He dove back into his messy bed, settling contently within the sheets. Izumi and Kōji traded a concerned look, laying back down and sandwiching Shōyō in between their bodies.
“What? What’s wrong?” Shōyō asked, noticing their twisted faces.
“Shou-chan, aren’t you upset? I mean, isn’t having three soulmates… weird?” Izumi questioned gently, his face pinched. Shōyō couldn’t help but giggle.
“I’m not upset at all. Who cares if people think it’s weird? They’re mine. They’re mine and I’m theirs. I get to have three people who love me instead of just one. Why in the world would I be sad about that?”
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27 September 2008
On Kei Tsukishima’s twelfth birthday, he received his soulmate tattoo.
Everyone did, when they reached that age - neat, clean kanji of their soulmate’s name appeared on their skin somewhere at midnight. Kei remembers being six and admiring his older brother’s tattoo, the dark ink staining his forearm. He told Kei about how one day he’d get a tattoo of his own, and that it symbolized a human soul that would come along and love him. Kei loved the idea of receiving his own tattoo for a long time.
Until elementary school rolled around and his fantasy quickly dissipated.
Kei was teased every day - for his growth spurts and the ugly stretch marks they left behind, for the thick glasses perched on his nose, even for the unique color of his hair- he was teased from his first day of school to his current one. Over time, however, Kei learned to let the snide words roll off of his back; before long, he’d built up a shell that protected him from the teasing. But all of the callous comments tatined his idea of love. The prospect of actually having a soulmate seemed far away and undesirable; Kei felt as though no one in the world would ever treat him kindly.
However, this shell of his wasn’t perfect - it had a couple of cracks. Those cracks occasionally let things in, most Tsukishima usually did his best to keep out. But there was one thing that slipped through the fissures that Kei worked hard to hold close to his heart. One person, actually.
Tadashi Yamaguchi.
Yamaguchi was Kei’s best friend. He was a small, shy boy with a baby face full of freckles; he was the only person who bothered to try and peer past his long-standing carapace. He was the only person who had tried to see Kei for who he really was.
“Are you excited, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asked, his knees tucked underneath his chin. The two young boys were sitting atop Kei’s bed, waiting for the midnight hour. They had just finished their dinner and Kei’s mother’s strawberry shortcake, which had left their small teeth stained pink (despite a rigorous round of brushing).
“Not particularly.” Kei replied honestly. Yamaguchi chewed his lower lip, drawing in Kei’s gaze. He tore his eyes away, settling them on the digital clock resting on his nightstand.
“How come?”
“It’ll just be another person I’ll have to deal with. Sounds like a pain.”
“I guess so. Well, one minute left.”
It was no secret that Kei didn’t care for his soulmate. He made that fact quite clear to those around him. However, deep, deep down, Kei knew he really wouldn’t mind having a soulmate if it was someone like Yamaguchi.
If his soulmate was Yamaguchi.
They sat in silence, the eggshell-white ceiling fan whirring rhythmically above them. Kei’s stomach began to bubble with anticipation - actually, it started burning. His skin felt like it was being pinched, and he let a small sound of discomfort escape. Yamaguchi whipped his head around, his big brown eyes swimming with concern.
“Tsukki? What is it? Does your tummy hurt?” He asked, his voice shrill and panicked. Kei shook his head.
“I think it’s my tattoo. It’s on my stomach.” He replied, lifting up his tee shirt to reveal his gaunt stomach. Yamaguchi eyed it with concern, although a cherry blush began to creep up his neck.
“Oh! I see it! Do you want me to read it to you?” He offered. Kei nodded quickly, the pain sharpening just below his ribs.
“Sho-Shōyō? I think? Shōyō Hinata .” Yamaguchi read, scrunching up his face. Kei attempted to keep a neutral visage despite the drop in his stomach. Yamaguchi trailed his fingertip over the new ink, sending shivers across Kei’s skin. His heart sank looking up at his friend - Yamaguchi wasn’t his soulmate.
“I think you’re getting another tattoo, Tsukki. I see it forming.” Yamaguchi said slowly. He had a strange look painted on his face, which unsettled Kei’s stinging stomach further.
“Well?”
“ Tobio. Kageyama.” Yamaguchi read. Kei felt his head swim.
“My stomach still hurts.” Kei remarked, rather casually despite the situation. Yamaguchi squinted at his pale skin in the darkness, his bottom lip encased between his teeth.
“There’s gonna be a third…”
“Three?! I have three soulmates?! I don’t even want one!” Kei exclaimed, the stress that had been bubbling up inside of him finally boiling over. Yamaguchi threw him a panicked look, his freckles seeming to glow in the moonlight. Kei watched as Yamaguchi’s big eyes filled with tears, brimming but not cascading down his cheeks.
“What does it say?” Kei asked, his voice biting. Yamaguchi flinched away, curling into himself on the corner of Kei’s bed. Confused, Kei rolled out of his covers and rushed into the bathroom, flicking on the lights before examining himself in the mirror. His eyes widened when they scanned over the final tattoo on his stomach; Kei was suddenly slammed with simultaneous happiness and despair and overwhelming insecurity.
He heard the muffled sound of his door slamming shut, prompting him to scurry out of the bathroom and into the hallway. The sound of the front door closing bounced around the small house, sending Kei stumbling down the stairs and onto the porch. The cool night air bit at his bare skin, quickly flushing it a pink color.
He saw Yamaguchi in the distance, running at full speed down the block and disappearing into his own home. He forced himself not to go after his friend - after all, Kei decided that he wouldn’t want to be followed had it been him .
Dejectedly, Kei went back inside, locking the front door behind him. He hadn’t even made it three steps inside before his mother appeared, clad in her pajamas and a frustrated expression.
“Kei, it is the middle of the night! Why are you slamming doors? And where is Tadashi?”
Kei couldn’t keep his tears at bay any longer. They began dripping down his face, quietly, fogging up his glasses before splashing on the wooden floor. His mother’s expression softened, and she dropped to her knees to look him in the eye.
“Kei? What’s wrong?”
Her words and gentle touches against his face sent Kei into a full-blown meltdown. He sobbed into her shoulder until his voice was hoarse, his glasses fogged up beyond usability.
Kei’s mother peeled him from her chest, forcing him to speak to her directly.
“Kei, you have to tell me what’s wrong.” She insisted. Kei took a deep, shuddering breath, stepping back to show her his stomach.
There, in dark black ink, rested three names. Shōyō Hinata. Tobio Kageyama.
And Tadashi Yamaguchi.