Chapter Text
There’s a figure that stands in the distance again.
Sakura follows the winding path past the cherry trees in bloom, wrapping that glowing red string around her wrist for security. It’s not unusual for her dreams to provide this kind of visual scenery; a setting of peace and tranquility. A gentle breeze pushes against her, and despite her bare arms, she doesn’t feel the slightest chill.
Like every time she has this dream, she begins to walk towards the figure up ahead. They’re somewhere far out, just beyond a small valley and perched at the top of a hill.
That’s her soulmate.
Her clan always taught her that the one who is her soulmate would be her fated partner for the ages; someone who would be able to handle her strength and more, someone who would be able to challenge her to become better than she already is. The bond of two soulmates is something impenetreble. When two soulmates come together as one, Sakura will have fulfilled one of her many duties to her family.
And perhaps that’s why every night, she walks towards that figure. Down the hill she stands on, and then up the next hill. She could run, and perhaps she could reach the end of that string faster, but she was taught to not chase the things that are good for her. If fate has counted on it, then it will allow her enough time to climb the hill.
(Once, when she was a younger girl and more curious than she was patient, she tried to run—and even as she got close, the figure got startled and ran in the other direction. She was faster than the figure, but her dream ended before she could catch up. The whole time, she could never make out any defining details.)
(Her parents, destined soulmates, written in the stars and all, have seen each other in their dreams since they were children. Their dreams were held on a field of wildflowers, and the only place her father could actually admire the plants without triggering his allergies.
If the two of them weren’t sparring in their sleep, her mother was letting the time pass by talking about flowers, and how she’s always wanted to name her daughter after her favorite cherry blossoms, and how she couldn’t wait to meet her soulmate in person.
And when they met, though they were only strangers in real life, the two of them swung each other around in their arms as if they were long lost lovers. Really, that’s exactly what they were.)
The trail up the hill becomes more steep as Sakura climbs. She’s never understood what made her soulmate so difficult to reach, but it’s a challenge she will accept. Her soulmate is meant to push her to greater heights—so be it.
There’s a subtle tug on Sakura’s wrist, and when she looks down, she sees the string glowing brighter and brighter. In the dreams, this occurs when her soulmate is running the other way, stretching the string infinitely onward.
She climbs a bit faster, instinctively.
Then her senses go dark.
Every morning, Mukuro has something of a ridiculous ritual.
She’s prone to waking up early. Never in her life has she had an alarm; her internal clock forces her up the minute the clocks read five o’clock in the morning, with little regard for how late she slept the night prior. Being tired isn’t something that the Ultimate Soldier can indulge in. Constantly, her body is on alert. (Even in the safety of her own dorm. Hope’s Peak Academy has only the best-of-the-best when it comes to security, but that still isn’t enough. Not to Mukuro.)
Her hands finds her blade under her pillow, silvery-gray eyes fixated on her little finger. Two strings wind around it; one red, one yellow. The yellow one leads off the bed and past the door to her dorm. The red one only gets as far the edge of her bed before it fades, invisible until the string should be recognized by the involved parties.
(It will stay invisible. Mukuro decided this long ago.)
Like she’s defusing a bomb, she moves her blade under the red string. She winds part of it around her thumb, creating a small section that should snap if she were to try and cut it—
Mukuro hisses in pain. The string glows, but it does not snap.
What it does do, however, is fade away.
…Temporarily. Mukuro has done this enough times in her life to know that it never stays away. Most of the time, it’ll disappear for the whole day, and it’s nothing she’ll have to worry about. Sometimes, for who knows what reason why, it’ll return in a few hours, and she’ll have to excuse herself to some bathroom and try to cut it again.
(Some days, she wishes she could cut it once and be down with it forever.)
It’s not that Mukuro doesn’t believe in love. She does, but there’s something sickening about the way the media sells the whole “soulmates” shtick. It’s never sat right with her. Not once has she met a pair of soulmates that make it work. Not even the Enoshimas are soulmates themselves; her father’s soulmate was Mukuro’s biological mother, and though she can’t remember a single thing about that woman, it had gone horrendously.
During her time in Fenrir, she’d been bunkmates with a girl who distantly dreamed of meeting her soulmate one day. She fascinated over what kind of guy he’d be—maybe someone also in Fenrir. Mukuro had to remind her that Fenrir has no room for those kinds of relationships. At least, not the frilly, lovey-dovey dreams that soulmates implied.
There were two soldiers in Fenrir who shared the same string. Nobody else could see it, obviously, but they only realized when they snuck out to train one night, and their string glowed in the moonlight.
Or at least, that’s what Mukuro assumes happened. They got so distracted that they weren’t paying attention. An enemy infiltrated the base that night, and both of them died.
Her bunkmate didn’t talk about soulmates again after that.
Mukuro closes her switchblade, and she stares at the yellow string again.
Most of her feelings on soulmates only apply to that red string. The yellow one is fine.
There’s a knock at her door the very same moment that her phone comes to life, buzzing rapidly on her nightstand. She reaches over, answers the phone, and swings her legs off the mattress.
“Muki!” Junko’s voice practically sings—and Mukuro holds her phone away from her ear as she approaches the door. “Are you like, awake? Hurry up!”
There’s a tug on that yellow string. Mukuro sighs. “Good morning, Junko. I’m coming.”
Sakura eyes the red string around her finger, as she always does. Every now and again, she'll glance up at the clock in the front of the classroom, just above the blackboard where instruction will begin in just a few minutes. In her mind, she's counting quietly. The second hand ticks towards the twelve at the top, and then—
Her string glows and then vanishes. Again.
Suddenly, Aoi slams down two cups onto the table, her smile wide as she greets, “Morning, Sakura-chan!”
“Hina,” she greets in turn, shaking the fact that she'd been startled. “Good morning.”
Aoi doesn't sit in her chair. Instead, she leans over Sakura's shoulder, eyeing her pinky finger that's still raised. “You looking at your soulmate strings again? What's the news today?”
“I only have one,” Sakura reminds her. Nowadays, it's common for people to have multiple—usually different colors, but it's not unheard of to have more than one red string. Not in the Ogami Clan, though—as fate determines it, even her fate follows tradition. “I'm simply confused by my soulmate's actions, is all.”
Aoi's lips pout in thought. “Huh.” She examines her own pinkie finger, then plants herself in her seat. She remembers that Aoi has two strings; one blue, one yellow. “What's going on with them?”
Sakura flexes her pinkie finger a few times. She feels the vague pressure of a tightening string around the appendage, but her string doesn't glow again. “Apparently, you can make your string disapper,” she explains, her eyebrows tight with her own puzzlement. “I do not understand how, but in any case, my soulmate is… insistent on not having their string show.”
Aoi takes a cup of her protein drink, urging the other cup towards Sakura wordlessly. She draws out a long hum as she thinks. “Maybe they're shy?”
“But why would that be?” Sakura asks, accepting the drink with her string-less hand. “It isn't something that can be seen by another party. It's strictly between the two soulmates.”
“Or three,” corrects Aoi, swiftly. “Or four or five. You don't know!”
Sakura nods, taking a swig of her protein drink.
“But it's weird that they can hide the string, though. Like, I didn't even know you could do that.” Aoi taps her knuckle against the table, gazing around the half-full classroom.
Then, her eyes light up, and she stands up so quickly that Maizono and Fujisaki, who are sitting in front of them, turn with varying degrees of quizzicality.
“Sorry,” she says with a small laugh, before looking at Sakura again. “So, like, you're sure your soulmate isn't that Kenshiro guy you told me about before, right?”
She recalls her visits to the hospital, the long hours she'd spent in his room by his bed. The issue of her disappearing string had been ongoing even then, and she confided with him searching for an answer. They waited until her red string briefly returned, and then he held his own hand up—and there was nothing that connected them.
(Regardless, they both knew better than to let that get between them. Forever will Kenshiro be Sakura's first love, but he's urged her to seek out her true soulmate—strange person as they may be. She's grateful to have his support; a generous man he is, even when he needs all the support himself. His own soulmate will be beyond lucky.)
“I'm certain,” she answers.
Giddy, Aoi latches onto her shoulder, and leans into her ear.
“I think,” she whispers, trying to contain herself a little, “that you maybe know your soulmate already.”
Again, Mukuro closes her switchblade and stashes it on the side of her boot. The red string glows, and then it disappears.
It’s been doing that a lot recently—showing up halfway through the day, glowing and distracting her from what it is she’s meant to be focused on. She’ll feel the sharp tug of her soulmate pulling on the string, and it serves as almost an instant trigger to excuse herself from the room.
(Junko gets pretty annoyed when Mukuro leaves so suddenly. The only way to satisfy her is to let her follow wherever she’s going.)
The yellow string around her finger tugs sharply, followed by Junko’s call outside the bathroom. “Muki!”
Mukuro checks the spot where the red string was once prior. If she’s carefully, she can feel a thread that’s still invisible to her eyes—which is bothersome, but she’ll put up with it. “I’m coming,” she calls out, hurriedly walking out of the girls’ restroom.
“I don’t even know why you always do this,” says Junko, winding her yellow string around her fingers as if to fidget with it. She’s the only person that knows about Mukuro’s stubbornness to avoid her own soulmate. “Like, I know you’re ugly, but your soulmate’s supposed to love you in spite of that or whatever.”
Mukuro is unfazed when she replies, “I don’t wish to run into them.”
“Hmm.” Junko hums, suddenly not very interested in the winding pattern she’s weaved between her fingers. “Yeah, I’d be pretty disappointed if I had you as a soulmate. Ew.” And then she lightly yanks the yellow string again, looking over at her. “Oh, wait. Of course.”
It’s always confused Mukuro that the yellow string tied the two of them together, despite everything. They’re only half-sisters, and these family strings more often tie together two fully blood-related invididuals. She supposes she’s seen her fair share of siblings in Fenrir who didn’t have yellow strings, that being because they hated each other. (Mukuro doesn’t know how someone could ever hate their own family. Then again, usually she’s the disappointment that people don’t like.)
Nonetheless, she knows Junko doesn’t mean it. This string is proof of that, her words to follow. Soulmates love each other, no matter what. And that’s why Mukuro doesn’t react, slipping open the door to their homeroom once more.
Apparently, their next class hasn’t started yet. She catches the tail-end conversation of Ogami and Asahina, the latter of whom is leaned over the other’s shoulder and whispering not-so-discreetly in her ear. Has she ever heard of an inside voice?
Junko and Mukuro find their seats in the back. In the midst of all the chatter in their classroom, something about Asahina and Ogami’s conversation sticks out—perhaps it’s the way that Asahina keeps flexing her pinkie finger, and how Ogami closes one hand over the other as if it’d hide something.
A few weeks ago, she’d heard a rumor fly through the school that the two of them were soulmates. Mukuro had been inclined to believe that as well; the two of always found their way to each other, and if fate truly did exist, it probably only did for them. Daily protein shakes; daily training sessions; endless chatter before, during, and after classes—Mukuro is the last person that anyone should ever rely on for input regarding soulmates, but she’d have to be completely stupid to not see it.
Or, well, that’s what she thought. Turns out, Mukuro is pretty stupid.
— They’re so not soulmates. (Junko checked her nails as she said this, finding it far more interesting than the display of Asahina and Ogami laughing as they washed down the chalkboard at the end of the day.)
— What… makes you say that?
— Um, duh? They just aren’t. Jeez, Mukuro, you never catch onto anything.
Naturally, Junko didn’t provide her much of an explanation. If Mukuro didn’t see it, then she was a lost cause.
A week later, because Kuwata Leon cannot keep his mouth quiet about any rumor he hears, he’d brought up the rumor in the middle of his bickering with Asahina. Her eyebrows furrowed and she yelled even louder, and Ogami chimed in, too.
— Hina and I are not soulmates.
And Kuwata sputtered, eyes wide and face flushed with embarrassment, the way he always does when he’s wrong.
There was not a string connected between them, Mukuro learned. Not red, not yellow, nor any other color that strings come in. (There’s more than red and yellow. She just can’t remember them because she doesn’t have any of those other colors.)
Asahina and Ogami are just really, really good friends.
Mukuro busies herself with finding her notebook and pen in her bag. She’s not an avid notetaker, but she tries to look busy. She only writes down things that are really important—but usually, she’s carefully ripping out pages for Junko to contain her boredom in.
“Do you mean to say that my soulmate is in this school?” Ogami’s voice is low, but Mukuro’s trained ears pick it up regardless. She makes no show of emotion.
Asahina shushes her before saying in not much of a quiet voice herself, “Dare I say, they’re probably in this class. Sorry Sakura-chan, but it’s not like you talk to many of the other students in the other classes.”
When she glances over at Junko, she also seems to be eagerly listening. She’s leaning forward at her desk, eyes staring forward at the two of them with an obvious intrigue. Mukuro wonders what it is exactly that she’s thinking. If there’s one thing she knows about Junko, it’s how much she’s always seekout information about her classmates.
Ogami Sakura is a particularly intriguing case. Strongest human in the world—even stronger than Mukuro without her weapons. She even poses a valiant threat while Mukuro is guarded by her own guns and blades. And yet, as the months go by at Hope’s Peak Academy, it becomes increasingly clear that Ogami embraces a few key vulnerabilities.
If one were to ask Mukuro, that’d be her greatest weakness. If someone wanted to take advantage of Ogami Sakura, the key would be to threaten her loved ones, or even her dojo. Either would work, depending on the case.
Mukuro doesn’t have a weakness like that. Her one weakness is Junko—but nobody could ever get to her. Junko has proven that time and time again. She doesn’t really need Mukuro, but she keeps her around and acts as if she does. (At least, that’s what she says. Junko doesn’t lie about this sort of thing.)
In a sense, Mukuro may best Ogami on that principle alone.
“I don’t believe I’m following,” says Ogami, shaking her head. The afternoon light bleeding through the windows bounces off her white hair, creating a sort of blinding effect that would catch less-focused minds off guard. “What makes you say that?”
“Well, think about it,” Asahina continues, taking another swig of her drink. “If I wanted to hide my soulmate string, it’d be because I don’t want my soulmate finding out it’s me.”
Junko’s eyebrows raise curiously. Mukuro’s own eyebrow twitches.
Ogami glances around—not behind her—and then back at Asahina. “Hina,” she warns.
“Sorry.” Asahina lowers her voice further, properly whispering now. Mukuro cranes her neck to listen. “I just think like… I mean, you’d find out really quick if your soulmate was sitting in the same room as you all the time. How do you think Kyoko-chan and I figured it out so quick?”
Kirigiri, with her own sense of good hearing across the room, looks over at the duo. Asahina turns her head and flexes her pinkie in her and Naegi’s direction twice. Kirigiri returns the gesture, as does Naegi a split second later.
“Oh, and Makoto,” Asahina adds with a giggle.
Ogami is quiet for a few moments. Then, she says, “Do you think whoever has me as their soulmate is… embarrassed?”
Which makes Asahina laugh. “Hey, don’t think like that. Anyone would be lucky to have you as their soulmate.” She pats her on the shoulder and sits back down in her seat. “Like I said, maybe they’re just shy and already know it’s you.”
“So, they’ve resorted to making their string disappear every chance they get?” Ogami follows, finally starting to understand.
And all at once does Mukuro’s heart stop. Her hold on her pen stiffens, though she was never truly writing anything, and she glances down at her hand. Only her yellow string can be seen, but she stares at the spot where the currently-invisible red string usually is.
Junko, who has been listening with equal intensity, props her head up on her chin and looks directly at Mukuro.
“Didn’t wanna run into them,” she says, quoting Mukuro’s own words. She pouts, though she doesn’t seem the slightest upset as she teases, “What an unlucky girl you are.”
Sakura has been thinking about Aoi’s words for the rest of the day.
She pays special attention to her classmates as that final bell rings, signaling time for Talent Development Hour. Aoi left a few minutes early, miraculously convincing their teacher (and Class President Ishimaru) that she had a hygiene emergency that couldn't wait. Besides her, everyone else is present.
Celeste approaches Naegi for the fourth time this month, resting her hands under her tilted chin as she offers another card game with tea. Kirigiri briefly intercepts the two, nodding to Naegi as she mentions going to check on Aoi. Afterwards, Hagakure approaches them, asking to join them—to which Celeste swiftly denies him.
Kuwata not-so-sneakily moves past Sakura to get to Maizono, inviting to walk with her to the music building across campus. Owada pauses his conversation with Ishimaru to cross the room and metaphorically keep Kuwata from embarrassing himself.
Fujisaki packs up her belongings, engaging in conversation with Yamada, who's pulling out his drawing tablet to showcase a few drawings. Togami shuffles out of the room with Fukawa in tow not even seconds after.
Enoshima and Ikusaba are also on their way out, the latter trailing behind the former as always. Sakura watches the fashionista take off without her, speaking quickly about some errand she wants to take care of, and Ikusaba hurriedly grabs her bag off the floor to follow her out the door.
And naturally, Sakura pauses halfway through packing up her own belongings.
Ikusaba has left something behind at the desk she was sitting at.
She swings her bag over her shoulder and approaches the desk, weaving past Kuwata, who tries to hide behind Owada. On any other day, Sakura would remind him to not slack off on his training—because he is not very good at avoiding her—but she sees Ishimaru making his way over all the same and figures her bases are covered.
Her hand picks up the thin notebook. It's lighter than the ones she sees at the store, as if several of the pages have been torn out again and again. It's not very cleanly kept.
But it's undoubtedly Ikusaba's. Everything Junko owns is a saturated color, usually pink, whereas this notebook is black.
She walks out the door quickly, and just down the hall—
“Ikusaba.” Sakura’s voice calls out to the soldier as she hurries to follow her sister in tow.
But she keeps jogging away. It's almost like she speeds up. Surely, a soldier such as herself would have heard her. It’s not as if Sakura quieted herself in any manner, and yet Ikusaba trudges onward.
She’s holding Ikusaba’s notebook in one hand as she calls again, starting down the hall after the both of them. “Ikusaba.”
Up ahead, Enoshima stops—and then Ikusaba shoots past her. The fashionista glances behind her at Sakura, then rolls her eyes when she looks back at her sister. In one swift motion, she seemingly wraps something around her palm and yanks on it hard.
Ikusaba almost loses her balance, shooting back an instinctive glare that softens when she realizes it’s Enoshima.
“Are you seriously going to ignore our dear classmate?” she asks in a honeyed voice. When Enoshima gestures at Sakura with the tilt of her head, she can see a notable grin on her face. “Come find me in your dorm after. We'll go out later.”
Then, she walks past Ikusaba, giving her one encouraging shove in Sakura’s direction before briskly speeding off.
Ikusaba watches her leave. When she’s far enough away, she sighs and looks down at Sakura.
“Yes?” Her voice remains flat as it always does, but there’s a flicker of recognition in her eyes when she sees her own notebook. “That’s…”
“It’s yours.” Sakura extends it outward, taking a few steps to approach her. “I didn’t look inside it. It was on the desk you were sitting at, so I figured it belonged to you.”
Ikusaba meets her halfway, accepting it and not looking up to meet her eyes. “There’s nothing important for you to find, anyway.” She pauses, awkwardly shuffling the book under her arm. “Thanks.”
And then she turns, walking in the other direction to follow after her sister.
Sakura crosses her arms, watching the few steps she takes. She thinks of her and Enoshima, and her mind flicks back to earlier’s conversation. Naturally, it’s been something she’s been mulling over for hours now. The topic of soulmates doesn’t usually have her this caught up, emotionally-speaking. While it’s imperative she eventually find her soulmate one day, she knows there is ample time for her to find her companion. She is only a high school student, after all.
But it’s strange that she hasn’t yet considered the concept of her soulmate being a student in her own class.
So, throughout the day, she’s been keeping a mental chart of known string relationships among her classmates. Ishimaru and Owada certainly have some fated connection via string, although they haven’t outwardly stated what color. (Sakura assumes red. They don’t hide it very well.) Fujisaki has a red string tied to a student in a different class. Aoi, Naegi, and Kirigiri are all platonic soulmates with their blue strings. Aoi also has a yellow string, for family, tied to her younger brother, Yuta.
…That’s about all she knows for the time being. She should approach one of the known red strings in her class at some point, but the prospect of doing so is… daunting, in a sense. To be so bold to ask about something so frilly on the surface. To seek out advice regarding love.
(Aoi is an exception due to how frequently she expresses interest in Sakura’s red string debacle. Most others, she doesn’t know how to navigate it. For all she stands for as the Ultimate Martial Artist, her heart has a soft—perhaps weak—spot for all things romance.)
And yet—
“Ikusaba.”
Her voice is calling out to the soldier again. She isn’t very far at this point, but she had started walking faster until she’d heard Sakura’s voice again. There’s a pause in her movements before she decides to turn around once more, a raised eyebrow being her only sign of entertaining what she has to say.
Enoshima is an enigma to Sakura. She’s impulsive and wreckless in her own right. In some cases, she possesses an extremely unique reliability, in only the aspect that somewhere deep down, she does care for her classmates.
But at times, she can be a nuisance now and again. With that in mind, she poses to Ikusaba…
“Have you ever heard of a fate string disappearing?”
Which makes Ikusaba stiffen in her place—if that were possible, considering how still she was standing already. Her eyes go wide initially, but within the next second, her face relaxes into her regular countenance. Mirroring Sakura’s own stance, she crosses her arms, silvery gray eyes glancing to the side. “I’ve never heard of it,” she answers.
A very simple answer. “That’s unfortunate,” Sakura replies, studying Ikusaba’s odd behavior. “I was hoping that, given your mercenary work, you would have perhaps seen a case or two such as this. Or that Enoshima-san would have tested this out with your string, at some point or another.”
Ikusaba’s gaze narrows when she looks back up at her. “My specialty relies on the battlefield. What makes you think I know anything of soulmates?” She shakes her head, dropping her arms back at her sides. “The only case of disappearing strings I know of… are when people die.”
Sakura steals a glance at one of her hands, eyeing the pinkie finger where the string should inevitably return. “I’m afraid that doesn’t apply in my case.”
Such a statement is so strange that anyone else would have pressed forward—perhaps not to the same degree of curiosity as Aoi, but there would have been something to question. Ikusaba, however, doesn’t seem to hold much interest at all.
She spins on her heels. “That’s too bad.”
And then she walks away.