Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For as long as Soshiro could remember there had been half of a yin and yang symbol on the underside of his wrist. The soulmate mark daunted him, the black of the yin a constant reminder that there was someone in the world with the yang, his perfect counterpart. 

Soshiro had spent countless hours contemplating the meaning behind his soulmate symbol. The black yin mark was a silent whisper of a destiny yet to be fulfilled, a promise of a connection waiting to be made. He often found himself tracing the outline, his fingers dancing delicately over the symbol on the underside of his wrist.

He wasn't disillusioned, he knew how unlikely it would be for him to meet his soulmate but that didn't stop him from dreaming.

And Soshiro's dreams were filled with possibilities, each one as vivid as the next. Sometimes, he would imagine the moment he would finally meet his other half, the one whose fate was intertwined with his own. He would wonder what they would be like, what their voice would sound like, how their touch would feel. It was a beautiful but bittersweet fantasy, one that both thrilled and tormented him simultaneously.

The yin mark seemed to pulse softly against his skin, a gentle throb that was both comforting and frustrating. It was as if the universe was gently reminding him that somewhere out there, his other half was waiting. Waiting for him to find them, to complete the yin-yang, to create the perfect union. Soshiro often wondered if they too were feeling the same pulse, the same pull, the same longing.

On quiet nights, when the world was silent around him, Soshiro would find himself staring at the mark for hours on end, his mind filled with questions and yearnings. He would wonder if they were awake and thinking about him, if they could sense the connection as keenly as he could, if they understood the bittersweet pain of waiting.

The yin symbol became a constant companion, a reminder that even in the quietest, loneliest moments, he was not alone. It was a tangible connection to someone he had never met, a connection that seemed to grow stronger with each passing day. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he could almost feel their presence, a faint whisper in the back of his mind.

It made him feel like he was getting closer to meeting them, that they were within arms reach.

That sense of closeness was comforting and maddening. It was a feeling of being edged towards something he coveted immensely but couldn't quite touch. The symbol on his wrist seemed to throb more intently, almost as if it was echoing the same impatience that he felt deep within his heart.

It made him feel like he was getting closer to meeting them, that they were within arms reach.

The first time he’d felt his soulmate mark waver, as if ready to dissolve from his skin, had been the same day Kaiju No. 8 appeared - And he’d feared the worst.

That moment had seared itself into Soshiro’s memory. The brief, eerie sensation of his soulmate mark wavering, as if preparing to disappear. The thought of losing that connection had filled him with a panic he could hardly explain. He wasn’t sure how long he’d spent staring at the symbol, willing it to settle, to hold on.

The wavering slowly came to a standstill and his mark had felt warm against his skin. The wave of relief that washed over him was so intense it was dizzying. He closed his eyes, a shaky exhale escaping his lips as his shoulders sagged with the weight of it. 

There was still a chance. His other half was out there, somewhere, alive and well. And someday, somehow, he would find them. He refused to give up hope. He began to idly touch it at all times, reminding himself of its presence.

It had gotten to the point that even the rookies had picked up on it, though they didn’t know what it looked like. It was always covered, either beneath a long-sleeved shirt or the edge of his gloves. Yet, when they asked what he was doing he’d smiled, “My soulmate mark is there.”

The rookies would regard him with curiosity, the corners of their mouths twitching with unspoken questions. They knew the concept of a soulmate mark; everyone did. But no one knew the location or the appearance of his. 

His answer was always the same, a warm smile and a confirmation that the mark sat beneath his shirt, invisible to the world but ever-present in his mind.

“Shouldn’t you have it visible in case your soulmate is nearby?” Ichikawa asked.

Soshiro chuckled softly, his fingers drumming lightly against his wrist. 

"It's a fair question. But it's not just about seeing it; it's about feeling the connection. I'll know when my soulmate is near, whether the mark is visible or not."

He smiled at the rookies, a hint of secrets behind his eyes.

The rookies, always eager to push, tried again, pressing for more information. 

"But how do you know?" Furuhashi asked, with a look on his face that made Soshiro think the boy was close to finding his own soulmate. 

Soshiro’s hand once again touched the mark, gently tracing the outline beneath the fabric of his shirt. 

"It's hard to explain. The mark sort of - pulses? When the other person is nearby, I can feel it. It's like a subtle sensation that just feels right."

The rookies nodded, though they still seemed a but skeptical. Soshiro could hardly blame them; the world of soulmates and their symbols was often more complicated than anyone knew. 

"You'll understand one day," he told them, his voice soft but sure. "When you have your own, you'll know."

The only one in the group who didn’t seem interested was Kafka Hibino. Soshiro put it down to age and already attained knowledge on the matter; but, he did notice Kafka looking at him with an odd expression at times. But Kafka seemed to do that a lot with people - watching, understanding.

Kafka's gaze was often intense, almost penetrating, though it held no malice. He seemed to be studying Soshiro, trying to figure him out. The look was not unwelcome, but it did make Soshiro a tad uncomfortable.

He would never admit it, but he was intrigued by Kafka. The other man's goofy but sincere demeanor drew his attention, and he found himself wanting to figure out what made him act the way he did, to see the man beneath the laughter and easygoing smiles.

Whenever Kafka would look at him that intense way, Soshiro would make a show of rolling his eyes and pretending like it didn't affect him. But deep down, he could admit that it made him feel a bit self-conscious, as if under a microscope. 

He tried to push the feeling away, telling himself it was all in his head. After all, what reason did Kafka have to study him so intently? They barely knew each other. 

Yet, the moments lingered in his mind, little snippets of memory that he couldn't help but replay.

The concept of soulmates enchanted Kafka. From the moment his mark had manifested, he was entranced by the idea of having someone out there who was made specifically for him. Yes, he wasn't in love with his soulmate yet, but he was swooning over the idea of someone who could understand him in a way no one else could.

When his soulmark first appeared, he'd had a fleeting moment of hoping it would match Mina's. But that thought was quickly extinguished when her mark came later, not matching his own.

He'd felt a pang of disappointment, though he wouldn't admit it. He'd never had a serious conversation with Mina about soulmates, so he'd allowed himself to hope. But now that hope was gone, and he was left with the lingering feeling of something that had never quite been.

So, he continued to watch and wait, always searching faces and wrists, hoping to find the one who would complete him.

He was an old romantic at heart, his mind often wandering into daydreams of meeting his soulmate. He imagined it would be a moment out of a cheesy romance novel; their eyes would meet, their marks would spark, and everything would click into place. 

The mark on his wrist would thrum with a newfound intensity, and he would know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had found the person he was meant to spend the rest of his life with.

As Kafka aged, it became increasingly difficult to hold onto his optimism. The world had a way of wearing down hopes and dreams, turning them from bright and shiny possibilities into dull, chipped reminders of what could never be. 

But he never let those thoughts show. He put on a smile, a cheerful facade, and continued to work towards his goals. Joining the defence force was still at the top of his list, right alongside standing by Mina's side, a promise they'd made since childhood. And, of course, finding his soulmate still lingered, both a hope and a fear.

Those three aspirations sat side by side in his heart, driving him forward. Each was as important as the others, and yet, somehow, they seemed to pull in different directions. The desire to protect, to love, and to find the other half of his soul - it was a tangle of emotions that constantly warred within him.

Each time he closed his eyes, he found himself wondering, will I find them? Where are they? Who are they? The questions haunted him, a silent ache in his heart that refused to be quelled.

When Kafka became No. 8, everything changed. The transformation brought with it a slew of new sensations and emotions, but the one that stood out most to him was the flicker of his soulmark. The panicked thought that he may have lost his other half was overwhelming, and he'd felt a desperation he'd never known before.

His hand went to his wrist, fingers closing around the familiar symbol that had always been there, the white yang of his soulmark. But when he looked down... it was gone, lost beneath the kaiju's hide.

The panic that coursed through him in that moment was unlike anything he'd ever felt. He felt for the mark, praying – knowing somehow – that it would return.

But then, as he returned to his human form, the mark was there, intact and unchanged. He gripped his wrist, the stark white Yang a stark contrast against his skin, and held on tightly. In that moment, it held far more significance than it ever had before. 

Kafka clutched at the mark as if holding onto a lifeline. For him, this was the one thing that still tied him to his humanity.

After that, holding on to his soulmark became a constant habit. An anchor that kept him grounded amidst the chaos. Whenever he felt lost or confused about his new reality, his fingers found their way to the mark, tracing the lines and feeling the steady pulse beneath his fingers. 

It was a reminder that he was still human, still connected to something greater than himself. Even as he adapted to his new reality as Kaiju No. 8, he found solace in the familiar feel of his soulmark against his skin.

The excitement and nerves that came with joining the force were like a storm within him, a whirlwind of emotions that threatened to drown him. 

His dreams were coming true, taking shape and form in front of his eyes, yet there was an unsettling undercurrent to it all. He was keeping a massive secret, hiding the fact that he was Kaiju No. 8, and trying to balance his dual life as both the monster and the man. 

Every step he took as just 'Kafka Hibino' seemed precarious, a tightrope walk between his humanity and his supernatural abilities.

He was constantly torn, pulled in two different directions. Part of him enjoyed the feeling of finally reaching for his long-held ambition, while the other part was plagued by guilt and fear. How long could he keep this façade up? How long would it be until the truth came out? All of this ran through his mind repeatedly, a nagging reminder that he was living a lie. 

Every smile, every action, every word as Kafka Hibino felt like it carried the weight of a lie. And that weight was slowly but surely crushing him.

He found himself tracing his soulmark often without thought, most times during training. He hadn't thought much of it until Reno had pointed it out to him.

"You know, you touch your wrist a lot like the Vice-Captain," He'd said offhandedly.

Kafka had paused, his fingers freezing mid-gesture on his soulmark. Reno's casual observation had caught him off guard, his own subconscious action suddenly under scrutiny. 

He'd looked up at Reno with a hint of surprise, unsure what to say. He'd been so used to the action that it had become second nature, something he did without thinking. But now that Reno had pointed it out, he couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious about it.

He'd given a small, nervous laugh, trying to brush off the comment. "Do I really? I hadn't noticed."

He hadn't noticed that the Vice-Captain did it too. It wasn't really all that odd, a lot of people hard their soulmarks on their wrists.

But after that, Kafka couldn't help but start noticing Hoshina, specifically his wrists. He'd watch him as subtly as he could, his eyes drawn to the other man's movements. 

And sure enough, Hoshina did it too. It was subtle, casual. His fingers would find their way to the underside of his wrist when he was deep in thought or between tasks, his touch light but present. 

Kafka felt an odd sort of connection, knowing that they shared this small gesture.

And In the quiet moments before a training session, Reno stood near Hoshina, a curious expression on his face. 

"Hey, Vice-Captain," he began with a hint of knowing curiosity in his tone. "You touch your wrist a lot. Is there a specific reason for that?"

Hoshina smiled, “My soulmate mark is there.”

Reno raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Hoshina's easy admission. 

"Your soulmate mark, huh? Shouldn’t you have it visible in case your soulmate is nearby?” he asked, his eyes flickering to Hoshina's wrist like he was looking for something.

Kafka felt like his heart was going to explode at Reno's brazenness. 

He watched as Hoshina chuckled softly, his fingers drumming lightly against his wrist. 

"It's a fair question. But it's not just about seeing it; it's about feeling the connection. I'll know when my soulmate is near, whether the mark is visible or not."

Kafka felt those words like a balm over his tired soul because that was how he thought of it too. He would know when his soulmate was near. He just had to.

The other rookies, ever the curious bunch, had gravitated towards Hoshina like moths to a flame. They asked question after question, their eyes wide and eager. 

Hoshina, with an indulgent smile, had answered them as best he could. He spoke about the feel of his soulmark, how it wasn’t just about its appearance but the deeper connection it represented. 

Kafka had tried to maintain an air of nonchalance, but he couldn't help the way he looked at Hoshina as he spoke.

Every time Hoshina's fingers would touch his covered mark, Kafka would find himself watching intently, feeling a pang of something he couldn't quite place. It was a feeling of nostalgia, of familiarity, but there was something more... something that he couldn't quite put his finger on. 

He watched as Hoshina spoke, the reverence in his touch stark in comparison to his usually carefree demeanor. And Kafka felt a strange kinship in the other man's words, a connection that pulled at him in a way he couldn’t explain.

His soulmark thrummed.

Chapter Text

Soshiro stood to the side, watching as Kafka interacted with the rookies. The way he coddled them, despite them being perfectly capable on their own, was almost amusing. It was like watching a stern father try to gently herd a group of wayward children. 

Watching the scene, Soshiro found himself amused by the sight. It was cute, and maybe a bit unnecessary, but there was something charming about Kafka's protective nature towards the younger generation.

His fingers began to move, tracing idly up and down his wrist before settling on his soulmark, gently pressing against the skin. It was almost like he was subconsciously seeking the comfort it brought. 

He hadn't even realized he was doing it, his mind focused on Kafka and the others. But as he noticed what his fingers were doing, a small, soft smile formed on his lips.

Something about watching them made him feel sentimental.

Kafka rolled his eyes as he listened to Iharu and Shinomiya nag at him for coddling them again. He was used to their incessant whining by now, but it still managed to get under his skin. 

"Oh, calm down, you two," he said with an exasperated sigh. "I'm just looking out for you." 

Ichikawa, standing nearby, chuckled softly. "You know you're just giving them what they want, right? The more you coddle them, the more they'll expect it."

"Shut it," Iharu grumbled, "the old man shouldn't be treating us like kids when he's so far behind." But it was clear that Iharu didn't mind the coddling.

Kafka let out a low grumble. "I am not that old," he protested, even though he knew the comment was just Iharu's way of deflecting. 

Ichikawa couldn't help but laugh. "Cut him some slack, Iharu. He's just doing what he thinks is best. Besides, it's kind of nice to feel cared for, in a way."

It was almost endearing the way they had warmed up to Kafka, and Soshiro enjoyed watching their interactions. Sometimes they needed to be reminded of their age and not the job they took on.

Kafka rolled his eyes at Iharu's response, trying to come across as annoyed but not quite managing to hide his affection. "You lot are insufferable," he grumbled good-naturedly. 

Soshiro chuckled to himself, it was endearing, in a way. The way they nagged and pushed each other's buttons yet seemed to genuinely care for one another. 

He found himself smiling, his fingers tracing his soulmark on his wrist again.

"Aren't you supposed to be running your drills?" He called out, mouth pulled up into a taunting smirk.

Kafka raised an eyebrow at Soshiro's question, an embarrassed frown crossing his face. "I'm multitasking, Vice Captain," he said.

Iharu and Shinomiya, still grumbling about being coddled like children, immediately turned to Kafka with hopeful looks on their faces. 

"Yeah, come on, old man. We got drills to do," Iharu said, sounding more excited than he wanted to let on.

Kafka, knowing he'd walked right into a trap, rolled his eyes again but couldn't help the amused smile that tugged at his lips. "Alright, alright. Let's get going," he said, knowing his back was going to be hurting afterward.

Iharu went for a high-five from Ichikawa, while Shinomiya rolled her eyes at the spectacle. 

Soshiro hid a smirk. "Don't go easy on him, he needs the practice," he called out to the rookies around Kafka, with a small chuckle.

Kafka shot him a mock glare, pretending to be offended. 

"I do not need practice," he protested, even though it was a blatant lie.

The rookies, however, were already getting ready. Ichikawa gave Kafka a small pat on the back, trying to give him an encouraging smile. "You got this, sir."

"Yeah, you got this, old man," Iharu chimed in, his usual snarky tone laced with a hint of excitement. 

Shinomiya gave Kafka a knowing look, silently wishing him luck.

Kafka tried to maintain his composure, but he knew he was in for a tough time. "You all are enjoying this way too much," he muttered.

As Kafka's sparring session with the rookies got underway, Soshiro found himself leaning against the wall, his gaze fixed on the group. 

Watching Kafka interacting with them, often fumbling but getting right back up, Soshiro's fingers traced over his soulmark again. The steady, content thrumming was like a soothing rhythm beneath his touch. He wondered what his soulmate was doing - where they were.

The sparring session lasted longer than expected, the rookies relentlessly pushing Kafka to his limit. Iharu and Shinomiya were being particularly ruthless, and Kafka was starting to look winded. 

Soshiro watched the whole thing unfold, feeling a surge of pride as Kafka kept himself together. The way he fought, the way he persevered - it was all strangely endearing.

By the time the rookies had been satisfied, Kafka was slumped on the ground, breathing hard, covered in sweat and looking like he'd been through the wringer. 

Iharu and Shinomiya were high-fiving, their energy still high. "Not bad, old man," Iharu said, a hint of grudging respect in his voice. 

Kafka only grumbled something unintelligible in response, still trying to catch his breath.

Ichikawa stretched out a hand and helped Kafka up, patting him on the back.

Kafka accepted the help, the pat on his back a small comfort. He tried to regain his composure, running a hand through his messy hair. 

Soshiro approached, an amused smile playing at the corner of his lips. 

"Looks like the youngsters really gave you a run for your money," he teased.

Kafka shot Soshiro an embarrassed smile, still huffing and puffing. "Thanks for the astute observation, Vice Captain," he mumbled, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

Soshiro chuckled, clearly enjoying teasing him. 

"You look like you had fun," he said, a hint of genuine warmth in his voice as he looked down at Kafka up at Kafka.

Kafka couldn't help but chuckle back, his exhaustion making him less guarded than usual. "Fun is a strong word. I think I just got my ass handed to me," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. He could feel his soulmate mark warm on his skin, but that had become a near constant since he'd gained his powers and joined the defense force.

Soshiro's eyes lingered on Kafka for a moment - on his messy hair, the beads of sweat on his forehead. He had the sudden urge to reach out and brush away a strand of hair from his face. 

But he shoved the thought away and forced a smirk, leaning back on his heels, hands held behind his back. 

"Well, it's good to push your limits sometimes, to step out of your comfort zone."

Kafka huffed out another laugh, a bit of color creeping up his face.

"Yeah, something like that," he muttered, trying to keep his cool even as his heart beat a little bit faster. 

He looked up at Soshiro and smiled, lip curling up in a playful way. "We both know you would have been a better match for them, Vice Captain," he said, his voice taking on a softer tone.

Soshiro felt that familiar thrum in his soulmark at Kafka's words, but he didn't let it show. Instead, he let out a soft chuckle, not looking away from Kafka's gaze. 

"You're not wrong. I definitely would have given them a run for their money," he said, his tone light and teasing. 

"But this training is for you guys, not me."

Kafka let out a mock sigh, rolling his eyes slightly. 

"Lucky us," he said sarcastically, but there was a hint of fondness in his tone. 

His gaze lingered for a moment on Soshiro, studying the other man's face. There was something about him - something that made Kafka's heart skip a beat. 

But he pushed the thought away. They were just friends. Work colleagues, even. Nothing more.

Soshiro could feel Kafka's gaze on him, and his soulmark throbbed again, a bit more insistently this time. He fought the urge to touch it, to relieve some of the sudden tension in his chest. 

Instead, he continued to tease Kafka, a small smirk on his face. 

"You know, you're not too bad for an old man," he said, his tone light and mocking.

"I might have to raise my expectations to two percent.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Kafka's lip. 

"Wow, a whole two percent? I must be doing something right," he responded, the banter coming naturally to him. 

He rolled his shoulders, wincing slightly as sore muscles protested the movement, but he covered it with a small chuckle.

Soshiro laughed, eyes flickering down to Kafka's arms, then back up to his face. 

"Two percent could be an overestimate," he said, his tone playful. 

His gaze lingered on Kafka's muscles for a beat longer than necessary, his mind wandering for just a moment before he quickly brought it back to the present. They were working. They were training. This wasn't the time to fantasize.

Kafka didn't miss the way Soshiro's eyes had flicked over him, and his heart skipped a beat. But he kept the outward calm, giving a small huff of mock offense. 

"Oh come on," he said, "You know I'm worth at least three percent. Maybe even four." 

He gave a crooked smile, his heart thudding in his chest.

Soshiro chuckled, the sound warm and throaty. "Four percent, huh? You're getting cocky." 

He let his gaze wander over Kafka again, taking in the way his sweat-dampened shirt clung to him, revealing the outline of muscle beneath. 

He swallowed, shoving the thought away. This wasn't good. He shouldn't be thinking this.

"I might just have to keep it at one percent," he grinned.

Kafka's ears tinged red as he noticed Soshiro's gaze again, feeling suddenly hyperaware of the way his shirt clung to him. 

His heart thudded in his chest, his palms suddenly feeling sweaty. 

He chuckled weakly, forcing a smile onto his face. 

His soulmark thrummed warmly but it was lost within the beat of his heart.

Soshiro felt his own heart rate increase, his breath coming a little faster as Kafka smiled, cheeks flushing pink. 

He took a step back, putting some distance between them. This wasn't good. He needed to get a grip. 

"I'm just teasing," he said, trying to sound casual, but his voice came out a little hoarse.

His fingers brushed over his soulmark where his hands were still clasped behind his back.

Kafka swallowed, his gaze fixed on Soshiro as the Vice Captain stepped back. 

He felt a strange sense of loss at the distance, but pushed it down, trying to regain his composure. 

"Yeah, teasing, I know," he grumbled, his voice coming out a bit huskier than he'd intended. 

His soulmark continued to hum under his skin, a steady, warm beat. He had a sudden urge to touch it, but he kept his hands still, clenching them into fists by his side.

Soshiro could feel his soulmark thrumming again, more insistently this time. But he ignored it, trying to push down the odd feeling building in his chest. 

He tried to maintain the casual banter, but his voice wasn't quite as steady as he'd hoped. 

"You look like you could use a shower," he commented, his eyes roaming over Kafka's sweat-slick form again. His throat felt a little dry suddenly.

"The others are gonna use all the hot water if you don't hurry," Soshiro said, nodding his head in the direction where the rest of the rookie group was already leaving to clean up.

Kafka let out a long sigh, rolling his shoulders again. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, but there was no real annoyance in his tone. 

He shot a glance at Soshiro, noting the way the other man seemed to be avoiding his gaze now. 

He pushed down the strange pang of disappointment he felt and turned to go towards the showers, joining the others.

Soshiro stood there, completely alone, as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. The way Kafka's smile had made his heart skip a beat. The way he'd ached to touch him when he'd noticed the sweat on his clothes...

"What the fuck," he gritted out through clenched teeth, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

He slammed his palm against the wall, letting out a low curse. 

This was not good. He was the vice captain. He had responsibilities he needed to attend to. He did not have time, nor the luxury, to be getting all giddy over a lower ranked officer. 

Especially not over Kafka. His brain helpfully pointed out. 

Soshiro pushed the thought away. No. He was not going down that route. He had work to do and a soulmate waiting somewhere for him.

He stood there for a few more moments, trying to get himself under control. But his heart was still racing, the image of Kafka's flushed face still burned into his mind.

Finally, Soshiro pushed himself away from the wall, forcing his mind to focus on the tasks at hand. There was no point dwelling on a foolish fantasy. No point in getting attached to someone he couldn't have. 

With a determined look on his face - the perfect mask of a vice captain - he headed back to his office.

Chapter Text

Kafka should have been out of the showers long ago, the others having left awhile before; but, he stood under the spray, the water pelting down on him like a steady, rhythmic beat that did nothing to calm the frantic rhythm of his heart. He could still feel the ghost of Hoshina's gaze on his skin, like a brand he couldn't shake. His soulmark ached with a heat that he knew had nothing to do with warm water and everything to do with the man his mind was filled with.

He closed his eyes, trying to will away the feelings threatening to rise up. It was ridiculous. They were colleagues. They couldn't be soulmates - could they?

He shook the thought away, drops of water flicking around him.

The warm water continued to run down his back, but it did nothing to ease the tension that had suddenly filled him. His heart still beat a fast, erratic rhythm, fluttering in his chest like a bird trying to escape.

Kafka leaned his head back, the water hitting his face and running down his cheeks. 

"Get a grip," he whispered to himself, the sound lost under the spray of the shower. 

But the image of Hoshina's intense gaze was still burned into the back of his mind like he'd ingrained himself there whether Kafka wanted him to or not.

The steady rhythm of the water continued to thrum against his skin, each drop like a small pang of frustration. 

He was being ridiculous. Getting all tied up because of some... what? A few glances, some playful words. 

No. There was no reason for him to feel this way. For his heart to beat a beat that was far too erratic under his ribs. For his soulmark to throb warmly on his skin. 

It was a coincidence. A mistake. 

Kafka closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath, the air thick with steamy heat.

Kafka's fingers traced over his soulmark feeling the warmth radiating from it, the steady thrum underneath his fingertips like a second heartbeat. 

The thought of Hoshina being his soulmate was both a source of excitement and dread. 

But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. The way his heart raced when Hoshina looked at him, the way his chest constricted at hearing his voice...

No. He needed to snap out of this. 

It was just his imagination playing tricks on him. It couldn't be real. It couldn't.

The shower continued to pelt down on Kafka, the water growing hotter by the second. 

He tried to will away his thoughts, but they seemed to cling to him like the steam around him. Soshiro's intense gaze, his voice, his smirk. It all swirled around in Kafka's mind like a never-ending cycle. 

He felt like he was teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something that could lead to heartache and trouble.

But... 

But wouldn't it be worth it? If it was Hoshina? Or would it be the end of him?

He wasn't normal, not anymore. The kaiju part of him couldn't stay hidden forever and he didn't want to drag Hoshina down with him when it was discovered.

Kafka's thoughts darkened as he considered the possible consequences. The reality of who and what he was loomed over him like a dark, unwelcome shadow. 

The transformation, the powers he now wielded... Should he even want to find his soulmate now?

He didn't want to think about it. 

The water from the shower pounded relentlessly against him but did nothing to ease the dread gnawing at his stomach.

Was it fair to bring anyone into this mess of a life? A life filled with battles, with uncertainty, and danger? Kafka knew the answer.

The thought of getting him involved, of putting him at risk, sent a wave of guilt coursing through him. 

He had to cut these thoughts off at the bud. He had no right to put his own feelings above anyone else's safety. 

Kafka switched off the water, the sudden silence like a slap to the face.

Kafka stepped out of the shower, the cool air hitting him in stark contrast to the now-turned-off water. His mind was still a swirling mess of thoughts and doubts. 

The question of whether Hoshina was his soulmate or not weighed heavily on him, the answer just out of reach.  He knew the other's mark was on his wrist, the same as his, but he'd never seen it. 

Should he ask? Should he risk it all just to know for sure? The thought terrified him.

Kafka grabbed a towel and began drying himself off, the rough fabric scraping against his now-cool skin. 

His gaze caught his own reflection in the mirror. He looked tired, exhausted even. 

His hair was still damp, sticking to his forehead in messy strands. His eyes were darker than usual, the shadows under them more pronounced. 

He looked like a man on the verge of something – collapse, or revelation.

Kafka looked away from his reflection, a bitter taste in his mouth. He wasn't going to be able to have that happy bliss, that acceptance. Not when he was part monster. 

The thought sent a fresh wave of anger and despair through him. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. 

He dried his hair roughly, the motion more like an attempt to shake himself back to reality than merely drying himself.

He could almost see it in his mind's eye: the picturesque scene of two soulmates, happy and content in their perfect little bubble. The thought was a mocking, cruel joke. 

Kafka clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. It was a life he could never have. Could never even dream of. How long could he keep up the facade? How long could he hide the truth of what he was before it unraveled him completely?

Kafka's chest constricted at the thought. 

His mind was a jumbled mess of conflicting feelings. Part of him was desperate to cling to that hope, to the possibility of a life with Hoshina. But the rational part of him, the part that knew the danger he posed, was screaming at him that it was wrong. 

He had to push it down, had to bury these feelings before they grew and took root too deeply. 

For both their sakes.

Kafka's days became a blur of constant distraction. Every moment was filled with thoughts of Hoshina, the Vice Captain's intense gaze, and sharp words constantly bouncing through his mind. 

His fingers found his soulmark without fail, tracing over it absentmindedly, his thoughts consumed with the possibility.

He was hyperaware of the other man's presence. Every time he walked into a room, every time they were close enough to touch, Kafka's heart would skip a beat, his stomach twisting in knots.

It was driving him insane.

On the battlefield, he could push it all to the back of his mind. There was no time for thoughts and feelings when he was fighting monsters. 

But the moments in between, the quiet moments of reflection, were torment to him. 

His mind would wander, conjuring up scenarios and daydreams that he had no right to think about. 

And his heart, damn his heart, was aching more with each passing day.

He couldn't keep this up.

Kafka found himself spending more time alone, avoiding Hoshina as much as he could. He told himself it was better this way. It wasn't that hard when he spent most of his time with the rest of the rookies.

He couldn't let himself get attached to the thought of them being soulmates, not when it was most likely just a pipe dream. 

He had a job to do. He wasn't supposed to be distracted by something as stupid as a possible crush on his Vice Captain.

But no matter how much he told himself this, no matter how much he tried to rationalize his feelings away, the ache in his chest persisted.

It was like a constant reminder, a small, insistent voice in the back of his mind telling him that he was lying to himself. Telling him that there was something there, something real, between him and Hoshina.

Kafka was in the training room, punching away at a dummy. His breath came out in ragged gasps and sweat clung to his skin.

Each hit was a blow to the thoughts swirling in his mind, a release of frustration and tension he was unable to let out otherwise.

But even amid the physical exertion, his mind kept wandering to Hoshina.

He could almost feel the other man's presence in the room, despite him not being there. He could imagine his intense gaze tracking his every movement, his arms crossed as he watched Kafka train.

No. He was probably in his office, looking over reports or training schedules, completely oblivious to Kafka's thoughts. 

The thought didn't make him feel any better.

His punch landed a little harder than he'd intended, the sound of his knuckles connecting with the training dummy echoing through the gym.

He hissed out a curse, flexing his fingers in pain. His knuckles were probably going to be bruised after this, but he couldn't bring himself to care. 

The pain at least was a distraction from the ache in his chest.

But even as he continued to punch the dummy, he couldn't shake the image of Hoshina watching him.

He imagined him walking towards him, every step a slow click of his heel. Kafka's heartrate increased at the thought, his breath catching in his throat. 

He would come up right behind him, the heat from his body radiating against his back...

Kafka's eyes flickered closed for a moment as he let the thought linger, the image growing more detailed in his mind.

He could almost feel Hoshina's warmth against his back, could almost smell his scent. His breath came faster now, a combination of exertion and the mental image that had sprung up unbidden.

He could almost feel Hoshina's breath against his ear, the vice Captain's deep voice whispering something, his words low and intimate. Kafka shivered involuntarily at the thought, his own breath coming in quick pants now.

He forced his eyes open, forcing himself to focus on the training dummy in front of him.

His body was reacting to the mental image, his pulse racing and his skin flushed. He could feel the sweat dripping down his back, the heat pooling in his gut.

Damn it, he had to snap out of this. He had to focus on his training.

But his mind was not so easily redirected. 

His imagination was now running wild, conjuring more and more detailed scenarios. Images of Hoshina, close and warm, his hands on Kafka's skin, his lips on Kafka's neck.

Kafka's movements had started to slow down, his punches less forceful and more half-hearted as he got lost in his thoughts.

His breathing was coming fast and heavy now, the gym suddenly feeling stuffy and overheated. He felt like he was drowning, his mind a whirlpool of want and desire and longing.

He wanted Hoshina - craved him like a drug. It was all-consuming, a need that was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

His body was responding to the thoughts, his pants feeling uncomfortably tight and his pulse racing like a stampede of wild horses.

He had to get out of here. Before he did something he might regret.

He forced himself to step away from the training dummy, his legs feeling wobbly and weak. He stumbled slightly, catching himself against the nearby wall.

His heart was pounding a fast, erratic rhythm in his chest, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He couldn't remember the last time he was so affected by the mere thought of someone.

As if he needed another thing to point toward them being soulmates.

Kafka leaned against the wall, his head bowed. 

Every fiber of his being ached for Hoshina, the need pulsing through his veins like a living thing. It was almost too much to bear.

But he forced himself to calm down, to quell the rising tide of emotions. He couldn't let himself get distracted by these thoughts, and couldn't allow his feelings to control him.

He pushed away from the wall, his legs still shaky but a bit more stable. He could do this. He had to.

But he was weak, so weak.

Kafka practically stumbled his way back to his room. His heart was still racing, the thoughts of Hoshina still vividly present in his mind.

By the time he got back to his room, he was feeling hot and bothered, his body aching for relief. 

He stumbled into his room, closing the door behind him with a click. His breathing was ragged, his skin flushed.

He leaned back against the door, his eyes closed as he tried to get his breathing under control. 

But the thoughts of Hoshina were still there, his face, his voice, his presence... it was all Kafka could think about. And his body was reacting, the heat spreading through him, demanding release. 

He shifted against the door, his hand falling to the front of his pants, his body moving almost on autopilot.

He leaned his head back, the cool wood of the door doing little to cool his overheated skin. His fingers trembled as he clumsily unbuttoned his pants, pushing them down just enough to release some of the pressure.

He closed his eyes, the image of Hoshina filling his mind. The feeling of those intense eyes on him, that confident smirk. The sound of that deep voice, whispering to him in the quiet of the night.

His hand wrapped around himself, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Every movement sent a jolt of pleasure through him, his mind filling with more and more detailed images of Hoshina.

He could almost feel the Vice Captain's touch, his hand on his skin, his breath on his neck. He wanted him so bad, wanted him like he'd never wanted anyone before. His body was on fire, aching for something he couldn't even name.

He moved his hand in slow, deliberate strokes, his head falling back against the door with a thump. His thoughts were consumed with Hoshina, every movement bringing him closer to the edge.

He could hear the sound of his own ragged breathing, mingling with the image of Hoshina's voice in his mind. He was close, so close, and all he could think about was the man he was trying so hard not to think of.

His body was shuddering, the heat building up inside of him like a wave about to break. He bit down on his bottom lip, trying to hold back the sounds that were threatening to escape his throat.

His hand picked up speed, his hips moving involuntarily to meet each stroke. He was so close, so close, and all he wanted was for Hoshina to be here. To be the one bringing him over the edge.

The image of Hoshina was clear in his mind, so vivid he could almost touch him. He could almost hear the Vice Captain's voice in his ear, coaxing him higher, deeper.

His body was taut, every muscle tense as he pushed himself closer to the precipice. The pleasure was overwhelming, his senses overloading as he rode the wave of ecstasy.

And then, with a final shuddering gasp, he arched his back and came spilling into his hand.

His body went limp, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

He leaned back against the door, his legs feeling wobbly and weak. His chest was rising and falling quickly, breaths ragged and uneven. 

The high of his orgasm was slowly beginning to fade, replaced by a wave of guilt and shame. He'd done it again, given in to the wanting and the need. 

He'd used Hoshina as a fantasy, the idea of them being soulmates, of them being happy.

He slowly straightened up, cleaning himself off as best he could. His emotions were a tangled mess, a mix of guilt, shame, and a desire that still burned intensely.

He knew he had to get a grip, to control himself, but it felt like fighting a losing battle. The need for Hoshina was a hunger that couldn’t be satisfied, a thirst that couldn’t be quenched.

His soulmark thrummed warm against his skin like a taunt and he dug his nails into it.

He moved over to the bed, collapsing onto the mattress with a dejected sigh. 

His thoughts were still a mess, his body still humming with the aftermath of his release. But his mind was clearer now, the fog of lust and need starting to lift.

He closed his eyes, his mind replaying the image of Hoshina. This time, though, it wasn't from desire, but from a longing that felt like a physical ache. A longing for something he was starting to think he could never have - shouldn't have.

He fell into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning throughout the night as Hoshina plagued his dreams too.

The alarm that blared signaling a kaiju attack seemed like a blessing compared to the tangle of emotions that swirled uncomfortably in Kafka. He quickly donned his gear with the others.

It was chaotic with groups of yoju bearing down on the city. He tried not to worry about anyone, but he couldn't help it. Without being able to use his powers, he was left mostly on the sidelines to not get in the way. He provided what information he could about the yoju's reproduction and when he heard that voice, the Vice Captain's, proud and approving in his ear, Kafka's soulmark nearly burned with the way his heart somersaulted.

Kafka tried to stay focused on the yoju battle, reporting information from the sidelines. But every time he heard Hoshina's voice come through his earpiece, his mind would flash back to his training the day prior. To the images and fantasies that had haunted his thoughts.

His heart thumped loudly in his chest, each thump like a hammer blow against his ribcage. He told himself it was just adrenaline, just the stress of the situation.

But he knew it was something more. Something dangerous.

His earpiece crackled to life again, the words said barely processing in his mind as Kikoru ran to him, face twisted in worry and anger. He was moving before he could second-guess his actions.

His soulmark burned as his flesh turned to hard hide, his breath leaving him soft growls. He would not let anyone get hurt.

Kafka transformed, his mind going blissfully blank, his world narrowing down to the singular goal of getting to Reno and Iharu and protecting them.

He charged forward, his body moving fluidly and quietly despite his new form. His mind was clear, his focus solely on the tasks at hand.

But in his transformed state, he was able to catch Hoshina's scent. It was sharp and clean beneath the yoju blood, the notes cutting through the chaos like a knife, tugging at his attention.

He ignored it, he had to, as he pushed onward until he could see Reno and Iharu in the distance. 9 stood before the collapsed form of Reno and Kafka saw red.

Kafka slammed into 9, the force of the impact sending them staggering back. He could barely hear anything over the pounding of his heart and the rushing blood in his ears.

His body was thrumming with adrenaline, his soulmark burning under his flesh in a way that wasn't right. He could feel something wild and feral inside him, a mix of his heady emotions and the need to dispose of 9 before he could hurt anyone else.

Kafka reared back, his fist slamming into 9 with a snarl. He didn't hold back, relying on instincts rather than strategy.

9 recovered quickly, dodging Kafka's strikes with surprising nimbleness. The kaiju was grinning, clearly enjoying the fight. Kafka let out a low growl in the back of his throat.

Kafka's mind was a tangle of frustration and rage as he fought against 9. Each attack brought him closer, and soon enough he saw the glimmer of 9's core. One more attack and it would be over - footsteps clambered around them.

The other division members.

He had been so close to ending the threat, but then the other officers had arrived, forcing him back.

He watched as 9 recovered, frustration burning through him. He wanted to charge back in, to end the monster himself. But he knew that would cause more chaos than necessary.

He retreated into an alleyway.

Kafka had made it into a narrow pathway, trying to get enough distance to detransform before someone found him.

But before he could, he heard footsteps behind him, a heavy presence that he recognized in his bones.

He turned and found himself face to face with Hoshina, the Vice Captain's gaze intense and searching.

Kafka froze, his heart hammering in his chest. Hoshina's presence filled the alleyway, leaving no room for escape. His gaze was intense, taking in 8's form like a challenge to be conquered. 

Kafka was suddenly very aware of how vulnerable he was, how fucked he was. His soulmark was practically screaming, the heat radiating from the mark searing across his skin beneath the hide as panic laced up his spine.

The killing intent was clear in Hoshina's eyes, and for a split second Kafka humored the thought that it would be better to go out by his blades than any other way.

Hoshina stepped closer, the air between them crackling with tension. The light was not ideal, the shadows throwing his face into dark relief, but Kafka could see the intensity in his eyes. 

Kafka tried to take a step back, needing to create space between them. Space to think, and more importantly space to transform. But Hoshina followed every step, cutting off his escape with fluid movements.

Hoshina lunged forward, blades flying towards Kafka with a speed that was almost too fast to follow. He was dangerous, deadly, and it was clear that he was not going to let Kafka get away.

Kafka instinctively moved to dodge the attacks, his own movements clumsy and off-balance. He could feel the power behind each blow, each one reverberating through his bones.

Kafka grunted as one of the blows landed, sending him stumbling back against a wall. He could feel a sharp pain in his side, a warm slickness trickling down his skin from the wound, core exposed and bright like a beacon.

With no other choice, he healed quickly, trying to get away. He didn't want to fight him. He couldn't.

Hoshina was relentless, each swing of his blades more powerful than the last. Kafka had to think fast, he had to find a way to get away, to transform unseen and slip back in with the other officers.

His heart was racing, his mind scrambling for a way out as he dodged another deadly strike.

Kafka's mind was working overtime, Hoshina was too strong, too deadly to fight defensively. But he couldn't transform back now, not with Hoshina watching him so closely.

He continued to dodge the onslaught of blows, every strike missing by less and less each time. His body screamed in protest, the fatigue of transformation and the injuries he kept healing wearing him down.

Kafka saw his opening and took it, catching Hoshina's blade with a strength he wasn't sure came from his transformed state or something deeper. With a final burst of energy, he struck down at the weapon, the clash of steel sending a shockwave through the alley.

The resulting blast provided the perfect cover for Kafka to slip away. He darted back through the narrow passage, the adrenaline pumping through his veins, the sound of his breath loud in his ears as he fled.

As Kafka ran, his mind was a messy tangle of thoughts, emotions, and confusion.

He was running from Hoshina, yes, but he was also running from the feelings that the Vice Captain stirred up in him. Feelings he knew he couldn't afford to have, feelings that would only ever lead to disaster.

As he transformed back to normal, thoughts of how dauntingly good Hoshina looked crossed his mind - beautiful and deadly.

He stumbled back to the other members. Everything was okay. It would be okay.

The other officers were gathered when he returned, and for a brief moment, his heart calmed, his mind cleared.

But then he saw Hoshina, like a figure of death in the background, his eyes locking onto Kafka's own. The intensity, the focus of those eyes shot through Kafka's being like a bullet to the heart.

He looked away, his soulmark burning with a heat so intense he was surprised it wasn't causing physical harm.

He tried to push down the emotions that were trying to bubble to the surface. The fear, the shame, the guilt, but mainly the want.

Kafka's gaze glanced down at the Vice Captain's covered wrist and he felt bile burn at the back of his throat. 

He really didn’t want to know.

Chapter Text

Soshiro was onto something, he could feel it. The way his soulmark had burned along his wrist with the immediate arrival of 8, how 8 had saved Reno and Iharu, and now, staring at Kafka's apprehensive expression - it was like puzzle pieces falling together. Yet, the end picture remained fuzzy in his mind.

Soshiro studied Kafka closely, his eyes taking in every small movement, every shift in expression. There was something about him that was off, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He watched as Kafka's gaze flickered to his covered wrist and the man's expression tightened with some unspoken emotion. Soshiro's heartbeat quickened.

Could Kafka be – He pushed the thought away. It couldn’t be.

But the more he watched Kafka, the more the pieces seemed to fit into place, the more the thought gnawed at his mind. It was like trying to catch smoke with bare hands, but the possibility was there and it wouldn't let him go. He swallowed hard, his mind racing, a mix of excitement and disbelief coursing through him. 

Was Kafka his soulmate?

The idea sent his heart into a frenzy, hope and trepidation warring within his chest. Kafka’s reactions and his behaviors - they all pointed to the possibility. But it was all based on guesses, on observations, and gut instinct.

If Kafka was his soulmate - the man he was destined to share a life with - that would change everything. For both of them. Not only that, but the issue of his soulmark burning each and every time that kaiju no. 8 made an appearance. Why? He couldn't wrap his head around the thoughts spiraling out of control in his mind. It didn't add up.

Soshiro took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He didn't have concrete answers yet, and he would do well to remember that. No matter how badly he wanted the universe to answer all his questions here and now, it wasn't that simple.

His eyes flicked to Kafka’s wrist, to the patch of covered skin where the soulmark would be. What was his mark like? How would it look against his own? Matching, made for each other? Soshiro swallowed and tore his gaze away. Getting worked up over it would solve nothing.

He needed to keep a cool head, to keep a level mind. But it was hard when the possibility of Kafka being his soulmate was so overwhelming. The need to know was a roaring in his ears, a constant presence in his every thought and action.

He glanced at Kafka again, the man's expression tight, his eyes troubled. Was he dealing with the same realization? Did Kafka know what Soshiro had been considering?

The more Soshiro observed, the more he was sure that Kafka was holding back as well. The other man's body language, the way he held himself, his gaze - everything screamed 'conceal'.

He couldn't tell if Kafka was doing it consciously or not. Either way, they were both struggling to keep their emotions and realizations buried, to keep up the façade of ignorance.

The air between them was thick with tension, a coiled spring just waiting to snap. Soshiro glanced around, taking in the others. 

Had any of them noticed the tension, the charged energy between Kafka and himself?

No. From what he could see, they were blissfully unaware, too focused on the aftermath of the chaos left behind by that pesky nine. 

Soshiro swallowed hard, his heart thudding against his ribs. He needed more information, more answers. Kafka was the key to that, he felt it in his bones.

It wasn’t easy to find time to talk though, not when Kafka always had someone around him. Usually it was Reno or Kikoru at his side, but the other rookies were just as likely. For once, Soshiro found himself hating that Kafka was so well liked.

Yet, an opportunity arose when he was training one night. The barracks were quieter as night wore on, the majority of the other soldiers had already retired to their quarters.

Soshiro was on the training field, going through practice drills, when he saw Kafka step out into the night. The other man looked weary, his shoulders slumped and a tightness around his eyes. 

It was the perfect opportunity. 

Soshiro didn't hesitate before approaching Kafka.

“Kafka,” he called out, his voice echoing softly through the night air.

Kafka tensed visibly before turning slowly to face him. There was an expression of weariness and resignation on the other man's face, like he'd been waiting for this conversation but dreaded it just the same.

"Can we talk?" Soshiro asked, his voice quiet.

Kafka's gaze flicked around, scanning the area to confirm that no one was nearby. Then, he nodded once, short and brusque, but a nod nonetheless. Soshiro's heartrate quickened, his hands becoming clammy with nerves.

His soulmate mark tingled and it felt like a tug in the right direction.

They found a secluded spot, away from the general living area, away from any prying ears. The night was silent except for the distant noises from the base.

Soshiro took a deep breath, his heart hammering so loudly he was sure Kafka could hear it. He needed to play this right, to be careful with his words and the questions he asked.

"I have something to ask you," he began, his voice calm despite his inner turmoil. "And I need you to answer honestly."

Kafka regarded him carefully, his gaze guarded, his body tensed. He merely nodded, signifying his understanding.

Soshiro braced himself, trying to steady his nerves. The moment of truth. Either he got the answers he sought or he was left in the dark. 

"Do you - do you have a soulmark?" He asked, his eyes flickering to Kafka's covered wrist.

Kafka visibly tensed, his body going rigid. For a moment, Soshiro thought he might just walk away, but then Kafka let out a deep breath and nodded, a short, terse movement that confirmed his suspicions.

“I do.”

Soshiro’s heart leapt into his throat at the realization. Kafka did have a soulmark. So maybe his thoughts and the way he’d been feeling weren’t so unwarranted - maybe there was a chance. 

Kafka's expression was guarded, but Soshiro could almost feel the panic and uncertainty underneath it. It was a mirror to what he was feeling. 

"Can I see it?" He asked, the words tumbling out before he realized his own audacity.

Kafka's eyes widened, the guardedness in his expression turning into something else - fear, maybe. Or was it panic? 

"Why?" Kafka's voice was a rough whisper, filled with disbelief. He clutched his wrist as if to shield it from view, protect it from the words that had just come from Soshiro's mouth.

Soshiro swallowed hard, taking a step closer. Was he overstepping? He'd never seen Kafka as uncomfortable as he was at that moment.

"Please," he urged, softer this time. "I need to see it." There was something about the way Kafka was acting - like he had something to hide. Something to fear.

Kafka clenched his jaw, the war of emotions playing out across his face. For a tense few seconds, Soshiro thought he might reject his plea. Then, with a strangled sound, Kafka let go of his wrist.

Slowly, he rolled up his sleeve, revealing his soulmark. For a brief moment, Soshiro's vision tunneled in on that patch of exposed skin, time seeming to slow down.

Soshiro's breath caught in his throat as the soulmark was exposed to the cool air of the night. The pale white yang stood out in stark contrast to the tan skin of Kafka’s wrist. His own wrist tingled, the itch under his skin intensifying as his eyes devoured the sight before him. He took a step closer, his mind barely processing the movements.

He didn't dare breathe, didn't dare to blink as he reached out a trembling hand, fingers inching closer and closer to the skin. Every cell in his body was screaming at him, urging him on as he gently touched the white mark, the yang to his yin, as the universe had ordained.

His fingers traced the edges of the soulmark, marveling at the smooth yet warm texture under his fingertips. He could feel Kafka's gaze on him, could sense the other man's breath hitch as he touched the mark.

A thousand thoughts, a thousand feelings swirled in Soshiro's mind as he finally, finally got a glimpse at his soulmark.

"Oh," he breathed, feeling like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, about to plunge into the vast unknown. 

His eyes roved over the mark, taking in every intricate detail, every dip and curve. This was it. His soulmate, his destiny, his other half. And it was Kafka.

Soshiro looked up, their gazes locking in a tangle of unspoken emotions. There was so much in Kafka's eyes - fear, hesitance, and something that looked eerily close to hope. 

He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly parched. This was it. They both knew it. He slowly, ever so slowly, took Kafka's wrist in his hand, holding it gently, reverently like a sacred thing.

Soshiro could feel the quickened pulse under his fingertips, the way Kafka's breath caught and held. They both knew what this meant, what this implied. 

And yet, it still felt surreal. Like some strange cosmic joke that they had been so close. Here he was, standing in a secluded corner of the base with his soulmate, the other half of his very existence. And for a few moments, he let himself bask in the utter improbability of it all. That he’d actually found him.

It took Kafka a few seconds to break the silence, the words coming out in a hushed whisper, “And you?"

Soshiro felt a flush of heat rise to his cheeks, the question hitting him like a ton of bricks. He had almost forgotten that he should show his own soulmark in response.

His fingers trembled as he started rolling up his sleeves, the fabric rustling against his skin. As he exposed his own soulmark to the night air, the familiar black yin standing out vividly against his skin, he saw Kafka's eyes widen slightly, a myriad of emotions flitting across his face.

It was a surreal moment, both of them standing there, the silent night an unwilling witness to their discovery. 

Soshiro's heart thundered in his chest, but it wasn't the rapid beating from before. This time it was deep, steady. He could feel Kafka's pulse under his fingers, the steady rhythm a mirror to his own.

He met Kafka's gaze once more, holding it like a lifeline. No words needed to be said.

The air was thick with a new understanding, a revelation. They had found each other. 

Slowly, Kafka pulled back, the loss of contact making Soshiro's soulmark tingle. Kafka's eyes were distant, his mind seemingly preoccupied with whatever thoughts were racing through his head.

For a moment, Soshiro wondered if Kafka regretted this, dreaded this, but the small flicker of hope that he’d read in the other man's eyes told him otherwise.

He took a step back, giving Kafka his space. He knew the other man needed time to process, to come to grips with the knowledge that they were soulmates. 

Soshiro's mind was a tangle of emotions as well, the night air suddenly chilling against his skin. He wanted to say something, to comfort Kafka, but his tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth.

All he knew was that he wasn’t ready to part for the night.

He watched as Kafka stepped back. Soshiro swallowed, the urge to reach out, to touch Kafka again nearly overwhelming him. But he didn't. He knew Kafka needed space to process, to understand what this all meant for them.

For a while, they stood there in silence, the night around them a quiet compared to the noise of the base not so far away. Then he found the words, barely above a whisper, "Don't go."

Kafka froze, his eyes widening. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, caught between the urge to run and the inexplicable pull to stay.

Soshiro could feel his heart rate quicken, his stomach doing somersaults in suspense.

"Stay," Soshiro repeated, firmer this time. "Please." There was a desperation to his words, a need to have Kafka stay, to talk, to understand the connection between them.

Kafka's jaw worked, a mixture of emotions dancing across his face. He looked torn, like this was the last thing he needed but it was also what he desired most.  

Then, quietly, almost inaudibly, he said, "Okay."

The word hung in the air between them, and Soshiro felt something in him release. He hadn't even been aware of how tense he'd been in anticipation.

With a soft exhale, he held out his hand – an invitation.

Kafka stared at the offered hand like it was a foreign object, something completely out of place in the world he'd come to know.

With a visible shiver, he reached out, fingers trembling slightly as they landed in Soshiro's palm. The contact was as electrifying as it was terrifying.

Soshiro clasped Kafka's hand firmly, the skin-to-skin contact sending sparks up his arm. He felt like he was holding onto a piece of the universe itself, something so profound it was almost incomprehensible.

He tugged gently, leading Kafka back to the base toward his quarters. They needed privacy, and even if almost everyone had sequestered themselves away for the night, being out in the open still wasn't ideal.

The walk to his quarters was a silent one, broken only by the occasional sounds from the base. Kafka followed, his hand warm in Soshiro's grasp.

Once they were safely inside, Soshiro shut the door behind them and took a few moments to just breathe. The reality of the situation was starting to sink in. They were soulmates. Kafka was his soulmate.

Kafka stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, his gaze flitting around, like he didn't quite know what to do with himself. Soshiro found the sight strangely endearing.

"Sit," he said, gesturing towards the bed.

Kafka obeyed wordlessly, sinking down onto the bed. He sat perched on the edge, his body taut. 

Soshiro sat next to him, leaving a small but significant gap between them. The last thing he wanted was to overwhelm Kafka even more than he already was.

A silence settled over them again, the only sounds coming from the base outside. Soshiro could hear Kafka's uneven breathing, the way it hitched every now and then.

He glanced at the other man, taking in the taut line of his shoulders, the way his hands clenched and unclenched in his lap. Kafka looked like he was bracing himself for the worst.

"You don’t have to be so tense, I won’t bite.”

Kafka looked at him, a small flicker of amusement in his gaze. He let out a shaky laugh, "Trust me, the thought of you biting me is the least of my worries right now."

Soshiro chuckled, the tension in his own shoulders easing a bit at the joke. "Then what are you worried about?" He asked, keeping his tone light.

He shifted on the bed, angling himself so he was facing Kafka more directly.

Kafka ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture. "What isn't there to worry about?" He retorted, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm against his knee. "I mean, we've just discovered we're soulmates. That's a pretty big thing to deal with, wouldn't you agree?" As if Kafka hadn’t dreamed of finding his soulmate - that was before things got complicated.

Soshiro nodded, his expression sympathetic. "It's a lot to take in, yeah." 

He paused for a moment, sorting through the myriad of thoughts and emotions in his head.

“I mean, I don’t know about you, but I’ve dreamed of finding my soulmate. I just never thought they, you, were so close all this time.”

Kafka huffed, his lips curled into a smile. "You and me both."

He let out a breath, the sound shuddering on the exhale. "And now that we've found each other, what are we supposed to do?" He asked, the nerves in his voice palpable, yet there was a soft, almost auspicious look in his eyes.

"That's the question, isn't it?" Soshiro replied, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

He shifted again, his leg pressing against Kafka's faintly, accidentally. The contact sent a spark of electric heat coursing through him. He should probably keep his distance from Kafka, for both their sakes. But the small part of him that had been dreaming and wishing for so long wanted to close the gap between them, to just forgo all formality.

Kafka's breath hitched, the small touch sending a visible shiver through him. He didn't pull away though, his gaze focused on their touching legs, an almost imperceptible flush across his cheeks - it was more noticeable at the tips of his ears. 

"Yeah," He said after a while, his voice low but steady. "It is."

"Well," Soshiro continued, trying to keep the conversation going despite the way his skin was tingling with every point of contact.

"We don't have to figure everything out right now. We can take it slow, get to know each other better, ya know?” 

He gave Kafka an easy smile. "We're soulmates. We have time to sort this out, at our own pace."

The tension in Kafka's shoulders seemed to loosen a bit at Soshiro's words. Time, they had time. This wasn't some race to the finish line, they could take this at their own pace. 

He let out a breath, the sound almost akin to a laugh. "You make it sound so simple." His leg moved slightly, pressing against Soshiro's more firmly - a subtle response to the contact.

"Well, sometimes the simplest answers are the best ones.” Soshiro mused, his heart doing somersaults in his chest.

The increased pressure against his leg didn’t help his racing heart, but he didn’t pull away. In fact, he leaned into it, just a little.

Kafka didn't reply but he shifted, their legs now fully pressed snugly against each other. The touch was simultaneously comforting and thrilling. 

His eyes flicked over to Kafka, taking in the way the other man's expression had softened marginally. Soshiro tentatively placed his hand, palm up, where their legs touched.

Kafka looked down at the offered hand, the gesture like an open invitation. He was quiet for a few moments, then slowly, almost tentatively, he placed his own hand on top of Soshiro's, the touch light. Kafka's palm was warm and calloused, just like his.

A shaky exhale escaped Kafka, the sound barely above a whisper. His hand was warm in Soshiro's grip, the feel of their fingers interlocked sending frissons of electricity up his arm. He looked down at their hands, the image almost surreal. Soulmates, they were actually soulmates. He squeezed Soshiro's hand, perhaps to convince himself that this was real and not some fever dream.

The way Kafka squeezed his hand sent a burst of giddy happiness blossoming in his chest. His heart was thundering so wildly that Soshiro was surprised Kafka didn’t hear it. 

Soshiro swallowed hard, his mouth dry. This was real. He returned the squeeze, his thumb rubbing against the skin on the back of Kafka's hand gently. There was more he wanted to say, to do, but they had time.

Kafka's eyes flicked up at the touch, the small, repetitive motion making him feel flustered. His hand twitched against Soshiro's, fingers twitching to hold tighter, to pull closer. But Kafka held himself back, aware of the delicate thread that they were walking on. 

"This feels..." He started, the words dying on his tongue. Surreal, unbelievable, perfect.

"Weird? Strange? Overwhelming?" Soshiro offered with a soft chuckle. He ran his thumb along the length of Kafka's finger, his touch light.

"Pick any word, it's most probably what I'm feeling too." He said quietly.

Kafka laughed, a nervous, almost brittle sound. "All of the above, I think."

The light touch against his finger was making him hyper-aware of every point of contact between them. His skin felt like it was on fire, his mind unable to focus on anything but the warmth of Soshiro's touch. His soulmate mark felt like it had a life of its own against his skin – thrumming, as warm as the sun on a summer day. It made his chest feel tight.

"Well, you're not alone in that." Soshiro gave Kafka a reassuring smile, trying his best to keep his own emotions in check. It was hard though. Everything about Kafka drew him in, like a moth to a flame. Had this been why he found him so interesting? Because he’d been his soulmate the entire time?

Kafka let out a breath, a slight shiver running down his spine at Soshiro’s smile. It was an open, sincere grin, but there was a layer of something beneath it - affection, perhaps? 

Kafka swallowed, the action bobbing his throat noticeably. The silence in the room was deafening, all he could hear was his own labored breathing and the rapid beating of his heart. 

Soshiro wanted to kiss him. And maybe he would still want to even if they weren’t soulmates. There was just something so oddly charming about Kafka’s simplicity. 

But the kiss could wait; they had time.