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Knockknockknockknockknockknockknockknockknock…
If Jirou were grading the person at her door as a percussionist, she’d give them 100 for rhythm and tempo.
She’d also give them a zero and an ominous “Come see me” for the crime of waking her up at an ungodly hour.
“Okay, what the hell…”
She had seen Kouda in a panic before, but usually not this early in the morning. “Kyouka, everything is wrong and my life is a complete disaster.”
“Good morning to you, my precious ray of sunshine. Oh, and happy birthday.”
“Yeah, about that…” Jirou noticed that Kouda was covering up his right wrist with his large hand.
“Whoa, yours actually showed?” While it was possible for a person’s soulmark to show on their 16th birthday, in practice it usually didn’t--most people had not met their soulmates before they were 16 years old, and how could you see your soulmate’s first words if they hadn’t been spoken yet? Jirou’s hadn’t shown yet, and her 16th birthday was six months ago. She wasn’t certain how many of her classmates had their mark yet, but the number was a single digit.
“C-can I come in? I don’t want anyone to see.”
“Yeah, come in,” Jirou stood to the side as the large boy entered her room, then closed the door after him. “Okay, spill, who is it?”
“Ah, I don’t know for certain. I have an idea, but it’s possible I’m wrong and…”
Jirou reached to move his hand from covering it.
“No, wait, don’t! You have to promise not to tell anyone!”
She snorted. “Come on, it’s me. Do you think I’d break your confidence? Plus, you’ve got more than enough dirt on me. Like… the you know what.” Jirou looked at him pointedly.
“You know what what?”
“The photo.”
“Oh, the picture where you’re…”
“Don’t you dare say it out loud.”
“All right, okay, I’ll trust you.” Kouda slowly moved his hand away. “Please don’t laugh.”
Jirou looked at the words on his skin. She blinked. She blinked again.
“You have an idea?”
“Uh, a really good idea?”
“Kouji, it says ‘Get the fuck out of the way, rock head.’ It couldn’t be more obviously Bakugo if there was a picture of his face next to it.”
“I admit that the evidence is compelling.”
“Compelling?” She pulled down his face and looked straight in his eye. “Get a grip. Your soulmate is Katsuki Bakugo. Say it out loud, it’ll help.”
“My soulmate is Katsuki... oh god.”
“No, not Katsuki God. Katsuki Bakugo. He only thinks he’s god.”
“That’s not funny. You’re not helping my anxiety.”
“Maybe my judgement is impaired because you woke me up at six in the morning.”
“Sorry.”
“No, don’t apologize. You were a friend in need. You did the right thing coming to me. So, what’s your plan?”
“Seeing if I can transfer to Shiketsu.”
“Be serious.”
“I am being serious.”
“You are not going to run away.”
“Y-you can’t stop me.”
“I’ve still got a video recording of you talking about the first time you…”
“You told me you deleted that!”
“I kept a copy in case I needed it for blackmail purposes! Which I clearly did. Calm down. There’s nothing to be panicked about.”
“Bakugo might kill me.”
“Listen, Bakugo talks a lot about killing people, but he hasn’t done it yet. Besides, you think he’d kill his own soulmate?”
Kouda said nothing.
“Kouji? You okay?”
“Y-you’ve seen Bakugo’s wrists.”
Indeed, everyone in class had. Bakugo favored t-shirts and tank tops outside of school hours. Jirou realized the implication. “He doesn’t have a soulmark.”
“Besides everything else, that’s what’s been bothering me. What if he’s my soulmate, but I’m not his? What if Bakugo’s soulmate is someone else? Or maybe he doesn’t even have one? Is that even possible?”
“Oh, honey.” Jirou hugged Kouda.
No words were spoken as they stood there.
Jirou looked up suddenly. “Kouji? I just had a thought, and I might be wrong--this is a really stupid question, but… have you ever said anything to Bakugo before?”
Kouda said nothing for a long time. Then, a very quiet “Oh my god.”
Jirou facepalmed. “Bakugo doesn’t have a soulmark because you are so shy and scared of him that you’ve never even talked to him before?”
“I was planning on talking to him! Eventually!”
“‘Eventually’? What do you mean by ‘eventually’?”
“Maybe graduation? Or at a class reunion?”
“We’re moving up that timetable. You’re talking to him today. Before homeroom even starts.”
“But Kyouka… I’m scared.”
“You overcame your fear of bugs, you’ll overcome your fear of Bakugo.”
“I am still kinda afraid of bugs…”
“You’re going to talk to him. And you’ll see your first words appear on his wrist. Oh, wow, I didn’t think about that--you’re going to choose what words show up on his skin?”
“Um, I guess so?”
“So you could say something cute, something romantic, something funny…”
“I don’t think I should do any of those.”
“You can totally get revenge for the fact that you’ve got the word ‘fuck’ permanently inked onto your skin and it’s all his fault.”
Kouda’s face grew pale. “Oh no. My mom is going to want to see my mark. What is she going to think?”
“As I said: a chance for revenge. Like, you could go up to him and say, ‘I, Katsuki Bakugo, wet the bed.’ He’d never live that down.”
“Not if I want to live.”
“You do think it’s funny, though. Nice to see your smile again.”
“I’m not.” Kouda touched his lips as if to confirm. “Am I?”
Jirou grinned. “You are.” Her face became more serious. “But hon, you’re going to be just fine. I’ve spent more time around him that you have--so much of what he says is bluster. He isn’t any more self-confident than any of us. And he’s a good guy.”
Kouda tiredly eased himself down until he was sitting on the edge of her desk. “Thanks, Kyouka.” He looked at and smiled. “You’re the best.”
“You’re damn right I am. And, you’re welcome.” She hugged him again. “Oh, and I was lying about the video. Of course I deleted it.”
“Heh. Yeah.”
Jirou yawned. “It’s too late and I’m too amped to get any more sleep. Tell you what, I’m gonna get a shower, then I’ll come over to your room and we’ll figure out the perfect line to lay on Bakugo.”
Kouda gave a very small smile. “Actually, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea for one.”
At his desk, Bakugo was reviewing his previous day’s notes. He looked up when he sensed the presence of another person.
Kouda was standing there, looking at him.
“What the hell do you want, rock head?”
Kouda smiled slightly, and with one hand, rolled back the sleeve on the other arm. He showed his wrist to Bakugo.
It took a few seconds for the words written there to register in his head. And when they did: “What. The. Fuck.”
Kouda opened his mouth to speak.
Bakugo didn’t flaunt his newly marked wrist, nor did he conceal it.
Kirishima was the first friend to notice the writing. He grabbed Bakugo’s arm to examine the words on his skin. Contrary to expectations, Bakugo did not violently jerk his arm back.
“For the record,” Kirishima read aloud, “my name is Kouda Kouji, not ‘rock head.’”