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Soulmates. Tale as old as time. The person you're destined to be with, born for, and them for you.
The facts: soulbonds could manifest in a variety of ways and in a variety of types, platonic or otherwise. Your soulmate could be your sister, your best friend, your worst enemy, a guy you met on the train, the love of your life. There could be a red string wrapped around your finger, or the world could be rendered monochrome, at least until the two of you locked eyes. You could be born with matching marks, or leave marks on each other the first time you touched, or be branded with their first or last words to you, an amusingly tragic fate that one could be.
But everyone, everyone has a soulmate. Some have more than one, but everyone gets at least that. One. One person who will understand them, be the natural complement to them, and will have some meaning above all others in their life.
Karasu never really cared much about any of that though. It sounds, not only like a hassle, but like one hell of a pain in the neck.
He wasn't born with any marks or words on him, and his vision has always been perfect, twenty/twenty and full spectrum. No string ties his fingers and he definitely ain't hearing any thoughts or feeling any emotions that he can't soundly deduce aren't his own- that's the rarest kind of soulbond, but also seems like the most annoying, in his opinion.
That doesn't leave much for soulmate identifiers, and for that he's grateful. It’s the worst kind of surprise, ain’t it- a soulmate. And Karasu has never been one for surprises.
Sometimes he wonders if he's an outlier to it all, the exception to the rule. Karasu Tabito, born without a soulmate. And what a hand to be dealt. An utterly amusing, if not relieving, prospect.
Because there is only one thing Karasu lives for, one thing he loves above all else, and that is soccer. And crushing those inferior to him, putting mediocre, self-satisfied players in their place sure ain’t too bad either. He doesn't need a soulmate when he can be one of the top athletes in the world, beholden to nothing but his stats and no one at all.
Karasu Tabito gets proven wrong at eighteen, the year he joins the Blue Lock program.
He's put in the V room of his stratum, and with his tactics his team easily sails to the top of the lot. They win all their games, with one exception; a tie against team X, whose top scorer is a lean, stealthy striker with bleach-white hair and a single green streak. He and Karasu match-up, time and time again, and though the guy lacks the build to face off with Karasu directly, he always slips away from their one-on-ones unimpeded and untouched. He is a frustrating, if not impressive, obstacle, and Karasu inputs it all for next time.
They meet again on the other side of the first stage of the second selection, and Karasu's initial read of the guy is questionable at best; he's disarmingly mellow off the pitch, default expression a mild, vacant-eyed stare, voice a similarly disaffected monotone to match. Otoya Eita is obviously the easy-going type Karasu usually finds tedious, but there’s a hidden edge to him, a keenness, like a concealed blade, that piques his interest. That, and the fact Karasu already knows he’s one hell of a threat on the field.
They agree to team up, Otoya pulling in another guy from team X, one Yukimiya Kenyuu, and then they are set.
And together they are unstoppable. Karasu's tactics and might, Otoya's skill and speed, their chemistry on the field is better than even Karasu could have predicted. Otoya is quick on the draw, flexible and adaptive to whatever Karasu wants from him, and whether it's his goals or Karasu’s own, their synergy is untouchable. They are the Assassin and Ninja, executioners of the field, and are crowned third and fourth best in Blue Lock, respectively.
And what's more, they end up becoming friends.
Karasu doesn't realize that despite all this, all the time they've spent together over the last few months, they have never actually touched. Stood next to each other and traded things between them and shared everything from water bottles to socks but their bodies had never come into direct contact, not once.
Not until one afternoon, two weeks from U-20, after an especially punishing practice. Otoya comes up behind Karasu, quiet as always though Karasu has long since developed an awareness to his presence despite this, slapping him on the shoulder for something or another.
Karasu doesn't register anything other than the initial thud of impact, at least not until he feels Otoya go still. He turns to look at his partner, who in turn is looking at his hand, sharp green eyes fixed on his palm, hardly wider than normal but still wider than Karasu has ever seen from his perpetually placid expression before.
"Huh." Otoya says, and then shows Karasu his hand, once pale as the rest of him but now a deep blue from fingertip to wrist. "We're soulmates I guess."
"So what're we gonna do about this?"
With practice over, they've relocated to the nearest bathroom for damage control. Karasu appraises the vibrant new addition to his skin in the mirror, a long-fingered burst on his left shoulder. It’s an identical match to the green in Otoya's hair. And ain't that just fuckin' something.
Otoya flexes those culpable digits, flipping his hand over to the blue underside and back, bored and unaffected as ever. "Nothing to do, dude. It is what it is."
Karasu studies the blue in between flashes of skin. If he had to guess, it's probably the color of his own eyes. "And yer not bothered by this? At all?" Otoya shrugs. Karasu clamps a finger on either side of his nose in an attempt to stem the headache forming behind it. "Yer a big boy, use yer goddamn words, 'Toya."
"Bothered by, what, that the universe thinks we should kiss?" He deadpans, and if Karasu could reach him he'd be shaking him. But then Otoya only shrugs again, an obnoxious up and dramatic down of shoulders. "I don't really care. Soulmates and all that shit, it's just whatever to me. Meeting mine, not meeting them, it's all the same." He holds up his blue hand, in surrender, or a toast. "It just happened to be you. Congrats."
Karasu pinches his nose harder. "I don't wanna be congratulated fer that. Dumbass."
He grins. "So you don't wanna kiss then?"
"We ain't those kind of soulmates."
"Sure. Whatever."
He folds his hand up and rests his chin on it, the picture of perfect indifference. Karasu sighs, completely at a loss. He grabs his top and works it back over his head, gears turning as he tries to make sense of this turn of events.
As a pragmatist, he could hypothetically make use of this- somehow. As a realist, he knows it was bound to happen at some point, no matter how little he cared for it. As a man, who’s just found out his soulmate is a womanizing green noodle of a guy he’s unwittingly been teamed up with months, he’s feeling pretty fuckin’ cheated.
"I'm the same, ya know." Karasu finds himself suddenly admitting. He glances back at the mirror, eyes going on instinct to the part of his shoulder that is now forever green, a presence he is already keen to, much like the guy who put it there. "Soulmates. I've never given them much thought. I'd rather be free ta do as I please without anyone weighin’ me down."
"I get you."
Karasu turns back to look at Otoya, still sitting on the floor. Their eyes meet, and the connection holds. "Ya do, don'tcha?"
He nods, slow and thoughtful, and something wound tight in Karasu eases, just the slightest bit. Eyebrows raised, Otoya gives Karasu a cool look. "So. You gonna be chill about this?"
"That feels like it should be my line." Karasu shakes his head, but he's chuckling despite it all. He's found his soulmate. A soulmate he actually does in fact have and he found him here, at Blue Lock of all places, and neither of them could really care less about it. What are the odds. "Yeah. I'm cool. This doesn't change anythin’."
"Sick."
It’s an easy return to form after that. They play as well together as they ever have, in sync with each other in ways Karasu could admit begrudgingly might be due to the soulbond but would rather not. Their uniforms cover up Karasu's mark but not Otoya's, not that he seems to care. People ask questions but he always shrugs them off, so they eventually stop asking.
They continue to prepare for U-20. Karasu studies their lineup and parameters, works to integrate their new teammates into their strategies. Otoya doesn't complain about it, he rarely does; adapts easily to Chigiri and Isagi and Rin, folds himself in Karasu’s shadow, his reliable right wing.
And nothing changes. Not really. If anything, the only real shift between them is that Otoya gets more casual about touch. An arm around his shoulder leads to leaning his entire body weight into Karasu's side, trusting him to keep him up, which escalates to sitting on the arm or back of whatever Karasu uses as a chair. Sides or legs or shoulders pressed together. Nothing crazy, nothing special. Just- present in a way it wasn't before. Otoya making himself known purposely, rather than relying on Karasu’s instinct.
All in all, having a soulmate isn't turning out too bad, or at least, isn't as much of a headache as anticipated. Otoya does his own thing. Karasu does his.
And together, they remain untouchable.
Karasu isn't sure who starts the group chat, but someone somehow gets all their numbers, leading to the lot of them meeting up in Shibuya during the two week break.
They hadn't made plans to see each other, but it just sort of happens that Otoya gets to the city early to goof off, so Karasu gets there early too, and they walk around for a while before they meet up with the rest of the guys. It's been less than a week since they last saw each other, but seeing Otoya now alleviates a pressure within him, like releasing a breath Karasu hadn’t meant to hold. When they touch, shoving sides or grabbing elbows or kicking knees, it bleeds away a little more, bit by bit until Karasu feels something startlingly like relief. Contentment.
Eventually Otoya declares his desire for fruit tea, and though Karasu just chides him to wait until they get to the cafe, he still goes and gets some for them anyways. When he comes back with their drinks Otoya is grinning like the cat who got the cream, and Karasu hasn’t even handed him his tea yet.
"Dude you missed it. There were a whole squad of cuties that just came by."
"Can't keep it in her pants for two seconds, can ya?" He sighs and gives Otoya his tea, the dark blue of his marked hand appearing from within his sleeve before closing around the bright pink cup. "And they know yer going back to soccer jail in a week, yeah?"
"Girls love a star-crossed romance."
"Yer the worst, ya know that?"
Otoya smirks around his straw, tapping away on his phone without a care in the world. "Want me to set something up for you? Get some of the other guys, make a group date out of it."
"Oh yeah, cuz that's gonna go over so well. 'Hey, come on a double date with me and my soulmate. We don't kiss or nothin'.' "
Otoya chokes on a popping jelly, laughing so hard. For someone so mild, his laughter always inexplicably falls out of his whole body, shakes through his chin and shoulders, the delight of it. He wipes his mouth with the back of his blue hand, and the carelessness of it provokes Karasu for some reason, suddenly irritated at the sight of it.
"...Yer really just gonna be out there datin' girls with your wholeass soulmark on display?"
"Yeah. Why not?" He shrugs, dark eyes sliding over to Karasu. "You gonna stop me?"
Karasu scowls. "And if I did?"
Otoya blinks in surprise, and Karasu gets to feel superior for getting that reaction out of him for all of two seconds before Otoya seems to realize something, his look turning coy. "What? You gonna date me instead?" Karasu narrows his eyes but then Otoya is chuckling, back to giving him that lazy, mild stare. "Chill, dude. It's not like I'm saying you can't do the same thing. I don't care who you hook up with."
It's reasonable. It's a perfectly reasonable argument and perfectly reasonable arrangement that would suit their situation just fine. Why, then, does the thought of it make him so uneasy. Sets his instincts on fire. Makes the mark on his shoulder burn.
"Humor me a second here." Karasu says. Otoya tips his head, indicating he's listening. "What would ya have done if one o' the random girls you dated was yer soulmate?"
Otoya slurps on his fruit tea. "Dunno. Probably would have ended up dumping her or getting dumped by her anyway."
"Is that what's gonna happen to me?"
His eyebrows go up. "Maybe." And then he sticks his tongue out, covered in colorful bursts from the popping jelly. "I'm kidding, man. I'd never do that to you."
And Karasu- doesn't want to believe him. Historically, he knows he shouldn't. But he can't help how it still settles him, the hand that ruffles his feathers so quick to smooth them back down. "Really now."
"Yeah. You're nothing like any of them."
"Ain't those kind of soulmates." Karasu reminds him, a bit too late to cover himself. He's going soft, being off the pitch this long; his defense is full of holes today. And Otoya, ever the expert of slipping through his guard.
Otoya, who is back to looking at his phone, and even from here Karasu can read the names of the girls he swaps between message threads with. "Whatever you say, Karasu."
"You wanna hear something fun?"
It's late one night in FC Barcha's common room that Otoya asks this. They're sitting facing each other, the tablet in Karasu's lap and Otoya's elbow on Karasu's knee as they hunch together over it.
Sometimes Karasu wonders what they'd look like if their soulbond tracked all the touches they put on each other's skin. If any part of Karasu wouldn't be green. He suspects Otoya wouldn't be nearly as blue as Karasu would be green, at the very least. "Is it relevant to my strategy fer beatin' Manshine City?"
"No."
"Doesn't sound like my kinda fun then."
"C'mon, don't be a buzzkill, crow." A lazy smirk spreads across Otoya's face, languid and spoiled, a cat stretching in the sun. "I just found out Bachira met his soulmate in Blue Lock too. Guess who."
"Not really fun if I gotta work fer it now, is it?" Karasu sighs, but switches off the tablet. That smirk twitches wider. "My money's on Isagi, obviously. Can't get them to shut up about each other."
"Almost. But wrong." Otoya leans closer, like there's any space left that doesn't already belong to him anyway. He isn't whispering. "It's Isagi and Itoshi. Mr. Heart of Blue Lock and Eyelashes Junior."
"No fucking way."
"Fucking way. I saw their matching marks. Also Bachira fessed up when I caught Rin sneaking out the other night."
Karasu hmms, thinking about when he last saw the three of them together- U-20. If walls could talk. "No shit."
"Shit. None." Otoya says. And then he cocks his head, green streak falling over the opposite eye. "Hey, you're a Virgo right?"
This abrupt change in topic has Karasu immediately suspicious. "Think so. Why?"
Otoya tips his head back the other way, resting it on the fist propped up by Karasu’s knee. "I dated this girl once who was super into astrology shit. Did our whole star charts and everything. I'm a Sagittarius, so I got curious and looked it up, and it turns out we are, like, the dream team of earth signs."
Karasu watches the green stands slide down Otoya's nose, catching where it upturns at the end, a subtle, delicate thing. He knows from experience they'd feel coarse, dry as straw bleached to hell and back as they are, if he ran his hand through them. "That right, now?"
"Yeah. Practically made to be soulmates, dude."
"Ugh."
"I know right?" Otoya snickers and pulls back. All the way back, arms stretched out behind him as he leans away. "But isn't it crazy how there's two pairs of soulmates between PxG and FC? Fucking wild there was one set of soulmates in Blue Lock, let alone two."
"Say 'soulmates' a couple more times why dontcha."
"Aye aye, soulmate."
Karasu groans, and forces his way up. The tablet falls and hits Otoya on the shoulder, and he sprawls out on the floor, whining like he's been shot. It's all crocodile tears, Karasu knows this and tells him that, but Otoya adopts a startlingly serious expression when he tells Karasu he thinks they'll have to amputate it.
To which Karasu replies, "What, your whole shoulder?" And Otoya says, "Absolutely."
At Otoya's insistence, they wrestle off his sweatshirt to assess the damage. There's a decent bruise on his left shoulder, about the size of a hand, and Otoya pouts as Karasu pokes at it.
But then he looks up and barks a laugh, pointing out how they match now.
Karasu has always been the sort that looks at everything too hard. The kind that observes as a default, that analyzes by second nature, harvests as much information from any object as he can. On the field, in the training room, across the table in the cafeteria, friend, foe, and everyone in between.
Through months of observation, Karasu has concluded that Otoya Eita, as a person, doesn't make a whole lot of sense. He's perpetually bored and dead-eyed but laughs and comes alive at the simplest of things, monotone in voice a way nothing else about him is. Noncommittal, two-toned hair, two-pronged tongue- when he got it in his mind to be a jerk about something. He's diligent and quiet and obnoxious and proud, the randomizer option given shape, thrown to maximum and then taken down a few notches, because he couldn't commit to even that.
And perhaps this is why he fits with Karasu Tabito so well. A creature of sense. A creature of reason and pattern recognition and seeing the outliers and going What If That Happened.
No amount of sense and precaution could have prepared him for Blue Lock happening, for Otoya Eita, for soulmates. And now Karasu looks at the green handprint on his shoulder, not the outlier he once entertained to be at all. Left to reconsider what he knows, not just about others but of himself as well.
If their skin cataloged all their contact, Otoya would have been just as blue as Karasu was green; the one to touch and the one who is touched, the soulbond didn't distinguish the first time so why would it at any other hypothetical juncture. Because despite his own wishes, despite everything, they are in this together. This has long been an undeniable truth, one perhaps denied by him out of necessity. They are soulmates. And Karasu can pick it apart, turn it this way and that, letting the light hit all its angles and still be left with the same shape, the same conclusion in the palm of his hand.
They are soulmates. They fit every definition and classical example and there's nothing Karasu can do about it, could ever have done about it. Something or someone else made this call long before he'd ever had the chance to know, and he's just left to play out the rest of the hand.
The weeks go by. They still meet every few days to discuss strategy or matches or just to shoot the shit, second nature to exist where the other is. Whoever approves these things must be sick of seeing their names but it still gets pushed through every time, and they're allowed to haunt each other's stratums ad nauseam, until Lavinho has wrangled Karasu into the weekly drum circle more times than he can count and Loki is gently reminding him to tell Otoya to bring his socks and slippers back to Spain’s with him.
"Almost over, huh."
Otoya says it with no context one night, laying on the Paris Next Gen monitor room floor like he has countless other times over the course of the Neo Egoist League, tucked in the Barcha hoodie he stashed in Karasu’s room for when he’s here. But Karasu knows what he means.
"None of that now. We still got th' U20 world cup ta win."
"Karasu."
"Hmm?'
"What are you gonna do if one of us is sent home?"
Karasu had been watching the replay of the Ubers/München match again but now he twists to look at his partner beside him. Otoya's blue hand is curled beneath his head, eyes half-closed because Karasu knows he's been nodding off, but despite the casual cadence of it, something tells him this wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing.
"Why ya worried? Both of us are still in the top twenty. I ain't concerned."
"Okay, but like. Humor me."
Karasu frowns. Looks him over a bit more, inspecting the leniency of his sprawl, the pointed weight of his gaze as he watches back. He bears up under scrutiny with unhurried grace. Otoya's good at it, rolling with anything Karasu throws at him, and what's more is he's cunning, far more cunning than anybody gives him credit for. Ninjas and assassins ain't really that different at the end of the day, are they?
"Dunno. Guess it depends on who goes." He says eventually. It's best to be objective about it. "If by some miracle ya stay and I get kicked out, I'd be pissed. I'd prolly go home and be inconsolable fer a while." He sighs. "But once I got over it, I'd probably focus on gettin' stronger. Might tune in to watch how the rest of it goes down. And ta see if ya can manage without me, o' course."
Otoya nods sagely. "And if it was me?" He asks, the logical continuation.
"I'd keep going, same as I am now. I'd keep playing, keep winning, go all the way to the U-20 world cup if I can." He answers, just as impartial, though he still adds, "And I'd miss you. Probably." The like hell, Karasu keeps to himself.
When Otoya doesn’t call him out on it, he thinks on this tangent a bit longer. "Ya know they say some soul bonds get weaker the more distance put between them. Maybe we're like that. Maybe if one of us leaves it'll eventually snap altogether."
"Is that what you want?"
Karasu huffs. "Does it matter? Neither of us gives a shit about this kinda stuff. It's all theoretical, anyhow."
"I think I'd be bummed."
Otoya sits up and searches for Karasu’s gaze. He doesn’t have to work hard for it; there’s always competition for Karasu’s attention, but Otoya’s always played by different rules, his knack for getting and keeping it just as much his own talent as it is Karasu’s weakness.
"You know, if I had to choose a soulmate, I still think I'd pick you. It's never really been something I thought about before, but-" He shrugs, like that's any way to justify this radical shift in character, the complete reversal of everything he's said and done up to this point. That obnoxious up and dramatic down of shoulders. "But yeah. You'd still be my choice."
"Are you telling me ya want ta be soulmates with me?"
"Never said I didn't. I just didn't care who it was before."
"And now?"
Otoya doesn't immediately reply. He reaches out, makes a grabby hand. Karasu goes to him, letting Otoya sling an arm around his neck and pull them close, forehead to forehead like when they scheme together. It's all so easy, thoughtless motion and unspoken allowance, and Karasu realizes his guard is gone, because it was never there in the first place. He hasn't put it up around Otoya in ages; there's nothing to slip under if you're welcome inside.
"Now I keep thinking about it. So I figured I'd say something before one of us gets axed. Or it all goes to shit."
Otoya says it against Karasu’s chin, avoiding his eyes in a rare lapse of confidence. Karasu hums, feeling the urge to tease. "Lemme guess. About how the universe thinks we should kiss, or somethin’?"
He glares at Karasu’s mouth. An improvement. "Wanna try being those kind of soulmates, asshole?"
Karasu pulls away, just enough to force Otoya to look him in the eye. He does so without too much of a fight, head falling back, blinking up at Karasu with those sharp green eyes. His soulmate’s a heartbreaker, that’s for sure, Karasu's own pinned atop that pile of broken hearts for a while now.
"Sure. Why the hell not?"
Otoya doesn’t even have the decency to affirm anything before he's pulling him down- not that Karasu finds himself in any position to complain. For once, his mouth is too busy for that. And as Otoya makes quick work of wrapping every available limb around him, Karasu might just have to admit the universe was onto something here.