Archive of Our Own ^beta

Their soulbond forms slowly.

It’s not unheard of (Izuku knows, because as soon as the mark started spreading along their skin like spilled ink he began to do piles upon piles of research), but it is rare, and even more it’s exciting to see something like a fated match be created in real time.

There’s almost a scientific urge that brews in Izuku every time he looks down at the half formed soulmark on his palm to study it, break down every interaction the two of them have ever had to see what might’ve triggered its creation, but he doesn’t. Instead he just cherishes it, takes extra care not to break his right arm ever again in case that somehow messes with its formation, and looks at the dang thing with such giddiness every five seconds that Izuku thinks Aizawa is getting fed up with him.

Izuku doesn’t know when it first formed, but he noticed it late one night early in their second year.

Hitoshi had just joined the class, aloof and guarded and quiet in a way that was not unlike Shouto before the sports festival. Actually it was so similar to Shouto, down to Hitoshi saying that he wasn’t there to make friends- rookie mistake, really, he should’ve known better. Izuku might’ve left him alone if he hadn’t said that- that Izuku almost immediately began making a ten step plan to become Hitoshi’s best friend in the first five seconds of that tired face walking through the dorm doors.

The ten step plan was not necessary in the end. All Izuku had to do was bother him enough that he finally gave in and said yes to studying with him, and then a beautiful friendship was born.

(Beautiful if you ask Izuku. Hitoshi was very peeved by the whole experience)

At least twice a week they met up in Hitoshi’s room to go over notes. Usually Hitoshi would ask Izuku to walk him through math things, and Izuku would make Hitoshi quiz him on his history memorization- look, Izuku has a lot of things stored up in his brain and absolutely no room for pre-quirk era Japanese wars okay?- and then they’d take an hour or so to relax before going down to dinner with the rest of the class.

A month of this and Hitoshi is starting to talk to everyone else, too. He accepts Izuku’s invitations when he invites him out with the rest of the Squad™ and actually sits with people at lunch instead of hiding in the stairwell (read: Izuku or Jirou, and he ignores everyone else), and the jabs he throws at everyone settle into something more akin to friendly teasing rather than Kacchan-esque insults.

That night is when he notices it. They study, like they always do, and after Izuku suggests they watch a movie before going down to dinner. That is until Izuku learns that Hitoshi has never seen any of the Disney movies before, an error that has to be rectified immediately, so instead of going down to dinner they do a binge watch of all the ones Izuku deems are classic and munch on snacks instead.

It’s when they’re on Tangled- their third movie- that Izuku realizes something. Hitoshi is… actually kind of really soft. He’s prickly, yeah, but it’s less of an intentional barrier built out of superiority like Kacchan and more of an accidental wall he’s put up unconsciously to protect himself. Izuku knows this because he cries- actually cries- when Flynn dies, sniffling and trying to hide it by sliding his knees up to his chest and rubbing furiously at his eyes before Izuku can really get a good look. And then once Izuku sees that, he can’t unsee anything else he’s noticed but not consciously noticed.

Like the fact that he’s one of the only people who doesn’t laugh at Kaminari when he short circuits. Or the fact that he always seems to make “extra” coffee in the morning for Izuku and Shouto, despite the fact that their kettle has a setting for only one cup of coffee. Or maybe that one time he brainwashed Uraraka out of a panic attack during a practical test on the pretense that her hyperventilating was getting annoying. Or- a lot of things, really. Small little things that Izuku tosses around in his head while the credits to Tangled roll, and suddenly when Izuku glances sidelong at Hitoshi to see him still dabbing at his eyes with his hoodie sleeves, he sees him in a whole new light. It’s like a switch has flipped, and the starlight that passes through Izuku’s just barely parted curtains is catching on his hair in a way that makes the strands glow, and his oversized hoodie is just a little too tight around his shoulders and oh. God.

Izuku leaves after Tangled, with a hasty, poorly thought out excuse about how tired he’s getting despite the fact that Hitoshi knows he stays up until like two AM most days because they see each other in the common room almost every morning and wow, Hitoshi usually has a mug of hot chocolate ready for him then doesn’t he? And oh shit, nope. This is bad.

He panics, briefly, realizing for the first time that he has a very big, very uncontrollable crush that has just slammed him in the face like one of All Might’s smashes. He runs to the bathroom, hoping that if he splashes some cold water on his face he’ll be able to calm down enough to think and be logical about the whole situation.

Because, really, him and Shinsou Hitoshi? Not a chance, not really. They’re so different after all, different personalities, different interests (not that different, a part of his mind whispers, and he beats it down with a sledgehammer), different career prospects. Hitoshi wants to go underground and Izuku wants to follow in the footsteps of the old number one hero, so honestly, there’s no way they would work that well together, and besides, that’s all without factoring in soulmates and the fact that Hitoshi probably has a bond with someone else even if Izuku’s has long since faded and left him without a mark and-

And then he looks down, and he sees a smudge of purple on the side of his palm between his thumb and pointer finger. It starts at the edge and follows his palm line down just a bit, like a marker someone accidentally smeared on a whiteboard, but instead of looking haphazard and incorrect it looks thin and delicate and intentional.

Izuku, assuming it's a vein or something, presses his left thumb against it, shifting the skin around. But it doesn’t act like a vein as the colored line moves perfectly and without issue. It’s more like a tattoo than anything, actually.

Maybe he smeared pen on himself when writing in his hero notebooks? But he hasn’t done that since class today, and he swears that this just showed up… Izuku turns on one of the sinks and sticks his hand under the water, getting some soap and scrubbing furiously at the mark. It doesn’t go away.

He blinks.

The color flashes. In real time, a second threaded line appears, growing and stretching and wrapping around the first. This time it’s silver, like spider’s silk, and it extends just a bit past where the purple line stopped, following the contour of his hand towards the center of his palm.

Holy shit. He thinks.

He runs back to Hitoshi’s room. It’s maybe midnight by now, and they have class the next day, but Izuku gives so few shits that he barely has half a mind to quiet his frantic knocking as he vibrates in place waiting for Hitoshi to open his door. He does, looking as exhausted as he ever is but with no indication that anything is different.

Izuku does not let it deter him. Maybe the purple is for someone else, maybe he’s reading too much into things, but… but maybe he’s not, and something really, really cool is going on.

“Midoriya?” Hitoshi mumbles, drowsy like he was trying to sleep but couldn’t quite achieve it.

“Shinsou!” Izuku whisper yells, pushing past him into the room proper, still bouncing on the balls of his feet “can I see your hands?”

Hitoshi blinks at him, bewildered, but then he lets out a resigned sigh and holds his hands out to Izuku, glancing down at them as he does so. And there, on his left palm, directly mirroring the lines on Izuku’s right is-

“What.” Hitoshi says.

Holy shit!!!! Izuku thinks. He lifts up his own hands, flips them over and points at the lines on his right palm. “I just saw this, and I had to check because I thought, I mean, I wasn’t sure because we’d never talked about soulmates so I didn’t know but I was hoping-”

He squeaks when Hitoshi grabs his wrist in his right hand and yanks it to hover side-by-side with his left. “What.” He repeats, more of a whisper of astonishment, “the fuck.”

“Shinsou!” Izuku basically squeals. “We’re soulmates!”

For a second, as Hitoshi does nothing but stare down at the tiny little forest green lines that are just beginning to bloom on his hand, Izuku gets nervous. Maybe Hitoshi didn’t want a soulmate, or maybe he had one and now Izuku’s replacing them? Oh god, what if-

But then- then Hitoshi smiles, slow and slight and open mouthed like he’s not even trying to fight it. “Huh,” the other boy whispers, before looking up to meet Izuku’s eyes and grinning ever-wider. “I guess we are.”

~

Hitoshi is not Izuku’s first soulmate. His first soulmate has spiky blonde hair and bright crimson eyes and a bad attitude that led to bullying and scars and years of bad blood.

That’s why they decide, at first, not to tell anyone. It’s pretty easy to hide- both of their marks are small, just barely there flashes of color that can get written off as pen lines in a pinch, and since they’re on their palms as long as they both keep their hands down or closed around something no one would be able to see anyway- and it’s much safer for Izuku, who knows without a doubt that Kacchan will be furious when he finds out about this.

He was furious when their mark first disappeared, back in middle school after Izuku met All Might and started training to inherit his quirk, after Kacchan told him to take a swan dive off the roof. Before that, Izuku had quietly wished that maybe the explosions along his collarbones might go away one day, if Kacchan didn’t get better, be a little bit nicer to him, but after-

After Izuku had begged. Literally sat in his room at night and begged for them to disappear, for him to be matched with anyone else. No one else. He didn’t- doesn’t- hate Kacchan, but the other boy hurt him and Izuku didn’t want to be fated to be with him anymore, because if this is how their relationship was going to be then Izuku didn’t want it. 

A week later their marks were gone and Kacchan was pushing him against the school wall demanding to know what Izuku had done. Screaming in his face with so much fury spittle was flying from his lips and Izuku’s uniform shirt was smoldering in his grasp. Never mind the fact that Kacchan had spent ten years complaining publicly about how shitty it was he had to be Deku’s soulmate, never mind the fact that he’d spent just as long bullying him and beating him up and literally scarring him. No, the very fact that Izuku might have the audacity to want someone else even though Kacchan had been nothing but horrible to him was an insult of the highest order.

Kacchan thought that Izuku should’ve been begging to have him back, should be praying to whatever being handed out the soulmarks to put those explosions back on his collarbones. In fact, Kacchan decided he’d do it for them, setting off his quirk so dangerously close to Izuku’s neck that he had- not for the first time- thought Kacchan might just kill him. 

Izuku, even though he’d gotten no mark to replace Kacchan’s, had never been more sure he’d made the correct choice.

And now he’s even more certain, because Hitoshi- even if he’s blunt and sometimes rude and sarcastic and quick to insult- is nothing like Kacchan was.

Hitoshi is downright gleeful for days after the discovery of their forming bond. The extra coffee he makes in the morning is no longer an accident, but very intentional, and now he’s started putting in Izuku’s preferred amount of cream and sugar for him so it’s ready right when he gets back from his morning runs. He shuffles closer to him when he sits with him at lunch, just a bit so they can bump their knees together or knock their hands- and their marks- against each other. He pays more obvious attention to the things Izuku says, even his mutterstorms, and makes an effort to participate actively in as subtle of a way he can manage.

He’s almost shy about it too, blushing a bit when Izuku smiles at him and being careful not to be too obviously different around everyone else. He always checks in before doing something- “is this okay-” “-do you mind if I-” “- would you want to-” and Izuku always says yes, because he’s usually asking if he can put an arm around his back or run his fingers through Izuku’s hair or go out on the weekends and it’s great.  

If Izuku thought Hitoshi was kind of soft before it is nothing compared to the way he acts now. It’s like that switch from before was flipped down even more, so far that it broke in half, because Hitoshi kind of just becomes a ball of quiet affection and care whenever Izuku manages to get him alone. It’s fantastic.

Izuku asks him about it once, more out of curiosity than anything, and Hitoshi very briefly panics- “am I upsetting you?”- but after being reassured admits quietly that, “I never had a soulmark growing up, y’know? And of course I didn’t. The kid with the villain’s quirk, having a soulmate? What a joke. At least, everyone else thought so.”

And then he’d bumped their hands together, smiling like he had when they first discovered the marks. “But now I do, and it’s you- All Might’s protege, secret love child, golden boy Midoriya Izuku- and I dunno. I just want you to know I appreciate you.”

Izuku is going to die, and it’s going to be this pretty boy’s fault.

Aizawa is, perhaps so incredibly unsurprisingly, the first person to find out. He and Hitoshi still train privately despite the fact that Hitoshi has now been moved into the hero course (in place of Mineta, thank god (really, thank Nezu, but when you actually get down to it aren’t they the same thing?)) and so it was only a matter of time before Aizawa noticed the smudge of color while adjusting his stance or even from Hitoshi just waving his hands while he talked.

He eyes Izuku in class the next day in a way that he can’t read- which is not surprising, this is Eraserhead they’re talking about- but it makes Hitoshi’s cheeks pink in embarrassment. It’s a very poorly kept secret that Hitoshi is both Aizawa’s favorite and perhaps a bit more than a student to him- something more akin to a son, like Izuku is with All Might (shut up, Shouto)- so despite how definitely intimidating the stare down is Izuku isn’t bothered by it. All it means is that Hitoshi has someone respectable in his corner, which is good and he deserves it and Izuku is not going to begrudge him of it.

But other than him, the sports festival comes and goes and no one is any the wiser. Hitoshi becomes even more outgoing in a way that the class sees as just part of his social journey, accepting his slowly budding closeness with Izuku as just something that was always going to happen, like Shouto. He and Jirou start putting together playlists for the class, Tsu starts giving him swim lessons, he gets into dance with Ashido of all people, and it feels so natural for them all that no one bats a single eye when Izuku flops next to him on the couch for class movie nights and rests his head on Hitoshi’s shoulder, or when Hitoshi begins unconsciously scooping up his bag for him when they’re going to leave school for the day. It’s just how they are, most of the class says. They’re totally crushing on each other, some of the girls (and Kaminari) whisper. 

It always makes them smile and give each other secret little looks, winks across the training field or stuck-out tongues in the common room. 

If only they knew, the gestures say, as they high five each other- Izuku’s right to Hitoshi’s left- with their costume gloves on. If only.

~

Shouto is the next person to find out. Again, not that surprising.

They get partnered up for a project on quirk classification in Aizawa’s class, and Izuku gets so excited about it that he gets careless and waves his hands too wildly when they’re working in his dorm. By now his soulmark is so big that it stretches across half of his palm, the purple and silver threads curving down in a diagonal across the skin, and it’s too obvious for him to just be flashing his hands wherever, but he forgets, and he shows it.

“Izuku?” Shouto calls, tilting his head with a furrow to his brows. “You have… something on your hand.”

He jolts, snatching his hands back to his chest in a move that is way too obvious. “Uh- w- well, oh. Yeah, I uhm. It’s- it’s just marker, I think.”

Shouto raises an eyebrow. Izuku cringes. Yeah, that was a stupid way to try to lie about it. He sighs. “It’s uhm. It’s my soulmark.”

A second eyebrow raises to meet the first one as Shouto blinks at him, and then insistently reaches out to grab Izuku’s right hand to get a better look at it. “It’s.. it doesn’t look complete.”

“It’s not,” Izuku says. “It’s one of the ones that forms as you get to know the person? I did some research when I first noticed it and, ah, this one is apparently developing faster than a couple of the other ones I’ve read about, which is really cool! But it probably won’t be complete for a while.”

“So you know who your soulmate is already?”

“Uhm. Yeah.” Izuku takes his hand back so he can rub at the back of his neck- oh, dammit, he totally got that from Hitoshi. “It’s uhm, Hitoshi.”

Shouto blinks again. His eyes narrow, like he’s thinking, and then he nods. “That makes sense. You two have been getting pretty close recently. Does he have one, too?”

“Yeah, on his left hand.” Izuku holds that hand up and flashes his fingers. “They’re growing pretty symmetrically. His is green.”

His friend hums. Izuku knows he has a soulmark- he’s pretty sure it’s Sero, actually, but Shouto isn’t sure and hasn’t asked- because he’s seen it before, a patch of what could be gauze, could be tape right over his heart, but soulmates have always been a touchy subject between the two of them. For Izuku, bringing them up always reminds him of Kacchan in ways he would rather not think of, and for Shouto it reminds him of his parents, who were a fated pair that ended in complete disaster.

They usually don’t talk about it, so he assumes that this is the end of the conversation until suddenly Shouto whispers, “how long ago did it appear?” And Izuku realizes that he definitely messed up.

“O- oh. Uh. About- about a month ago, but Shouto it’s not- I was going to tell you, I swear.”

Shouto hums again in that dismissive way he does when he’s trying to lie about how something is affecting him to spare the other person’s feelings. Izuku sees right through it. “Sho, you know what would happen if Kacchan found out. We just- I just didn’t want to risk it.”

“I know,” Shouto says. “You trust me.”

“I do,” Izuku agrees.

The other boy sags in place. “Sorry, I… I know it isn’t my place. This is private. You’re not obligated to tell me about it.”

“I was going to,” he whispers.

Shouto looks at him and smiles. “I know. I am happy for you, I know this was… a point of insecurity for you.”

Izuku snorts. Could Shouto get any less blunt? Probably not. And it doesn’t really matter, because Izuku likes him better like this, rather than the cold, distant boy he was at the start of last year. “Yeah, I- I’m really glad it’s him.” He sighs, distracted with thinking about purple hair and broad palms and a too-tight uniform jacket across wide shoulders. “He gets it, y’know?”

“And he’s hot,” Shouto says, unhelpfully.

“Shouto!” Izuku yelps.

~

Izuku, briefly distracted by the way Hitoshi’s lips close around the straw of his drink, completely misses whatever he just said.

“-would that work? I mean, I was thinking about it, after you- Izuku?”

He blinks. “Uhm. Yes?”

Hitoshi raises an eyebrow. “Someone’s distracted today,” he says, giving him a once over. “Somethin’ on your mind? You always wanna talk strategy and quirk stuff.”

Yes, but right now I wanna kiss you, Izuku thinks, and then immediately turns bright red and shakes the thought out of his head. “Aha- uhm, no, sorry, I’m just ah- spacing out! Yeah, you know how I am.”

Oh god, he’s such a terrible liar.

If possible, Hitoshi’s eyebrow arches even further, and the boy looks so deeply unimpressed and unconvinced that Izuku is sure he’s about to just roll his eyes out of his skull, but luckily (or unluckily- it might’ve ended in a kiss) he drops it with a shrug. “Well, fine.” He takes another sip of his drink- which is really not helping, someone should probably tell him that- and gestures vaguely. “I guess I’ll just find Yaomomo when we get back to the dorms, ask her if she’d know-”

“Is that Shinsou?” Someone unfamiliar yells obnoxiously across the sparsely populated mall walkway. Izuku, still mostly tuned in to Hitoshi’s mouth and his eyes and like everything about him in a way that might not be strictly innocent, immediately notices the way the other boy flinches, shoulders pulling up tight before they fall back down in a deliberate, you-totally-don’t-affect-me-at-all-what-do-you-mean kind of way.

Which is not okay. Izuku was flustered and he was admiring his pretty soulmate (boyfriend?) who was acting smug and being pretty and he was quite content with their mall adventure (date?) thank you very much, and now someone is interrupting it and making Hitoshi upset which is not acceptable. 

Izuku turns to see a group of three high school aged kids approaching them. One girl, two boys, none of them quite as tall as Hitoshi but all of them taller than Izuku (which is not an uncommon thing to be, yes, he knows, shut up Shouto) and none of them with visible quirk mutations. Judging by the fact that they know Hitoshi’s name, they were probably his middle school classmates, which is already such a bad start for them.

Most of his relationship with Hitoshi is built upon a foundation of shared lived experiences. Those experiences being their time as junior high students getting bullied relentlessly for things outside of their control. Hitoshi, alongside Shouto and Kacchan, is now one of the few people who knows that Izuku was a very late bloomer and thus considered quirkless for eleven years of his life, and in turn Izuku knows all about the jokes other kids would make about putting a muzzle on him or how at one point they actually gagged him, among other things that piss Izuku off beyond belief.

So. These three approach them, and Izuku puts on his best sunshine smile and dons his most innocent aura possible before reaching out and threading his arm through Hitoshi’s, leaning in close as exaggeratedly as he can.

“Oh, hi!” He chirps, threading his fingers- right to left, always right to left- with his soulmate as he looks at the old classmates. “You guys know Hitoshi? Are you old friends of his?”

Hitoshi shoots him a look that basically boils down to “are you stupid?” In answer, Izuku squeezes his hand in a silent command to shut up and let him handle this.

The other students falter at Izuku’s use of Hitoshi’s given name. It’s the girl that speaks up first. “Uhm, well…”

“We knew him,” one of the boys- he’s got black hair and red eyes with crosshairs in them, sort of like Mei’s. Those red eyes narrow in on Izuku until they light up in recognition. “Hey, wait, aren’t you that one kid that got first in this year’s sports festival?”

That is true. It pissed Kacchan off a whole lot to see Izuku standing on the number one pedestal while he stood next to Uraraka at third place, beaten out by Shouto. That was a good day.

“I am, yeah!” Izuku holds out his free hand. “Midoriya Izuku, it’s nice to meet you!”

The boy takes it, the other two students exchanging wide-eyed looks. Unfortunately for Izuku’s nerves, class 2-A is already super popular thanks to all the attacks by the League, and now with his victory in the sports festival stuff like this is not an uncommon occurrence. It does, however, make what he’s about to do much easier. He just needs them to…

The second boy steps closer. “So wait,” he says quietly, like Hitoshi isn’t right next to him, “why are you hanging out with him?”

As innocently as he can manage (which is very innocent. Aizawa doesn’t call him “problem child” for nothing), Izuku tilts his head. “You mean Hitoshi? Why wouldn’t I be hanging out with my boyfriend?”

Hitoshi coughs into the hand that’s holding his drink to try and disguise the flush that almost immediately sprouts on his face. Izuku knows from a handful of occasions that it’s blotchy and uneven, just patches of red that always make it look like he might’ve been crying in the good “I’m laughing so hard there are tears” kind of way, and it’s so, so cute. Unfortunately for him the tips of his ears also turn red when he gets flustered, which is always a dead giveaway.

The other three students exchange bewildered looks. The boy that had been shaking his hand cuts a suspicious look at Hitoshi and then turns to whisper to Izuku- again, do they really think Hitoshi can’t hear him?- “you do know what his quirk is, right?”

“Uh, duh,” Izuku scoffs, “he used it on me in the first year sports festival. So cool, right? I mean, he’s one of the only people that can take down almost anyone in the class. Especially Kaminari-” Izuku turns to Hitoshi with a dopey smile- “he never learns his lesson, huh?”

Hitoshi coughs again, this time to disguise a laugh. His old classmates look so confused that it’s almost bordering on astonishment, like they’re so stumped they’ve forgotten to be mean about it.

“You-” one of the boys says, but he cuts off, unable to finish his thought.

“But what about your soulmate?” The girl demands, basically whining. “You’d throw them away for him?”

Oh, man, Izuku wants to laugh. Instead, he makes his posture curl a little, tilting sideways so he can bring his other hand to where his right is still clasped in Hitoshi’s left. His smile dims in that way where he’s trying to smile but he’s too sad to make it real, and he ducks his head in just a bit. Hitoshi, who has by now caught on, shoots the other three the most withering glare he can manage and makes his grip on his soda cup tighten until the paper crinkles slightly. 

“Oh I-” he laughs a little, trying to go for melancholy. “I don’t uhm, have one. They- something happened to them, when we were little, a- and-” he cuts off on a sniffle, turning all the way towards Hitoshi, who wiggles his arm out of Izuku’s grip to instead drape it across his shoulders and pull him in tightly, rubbing his back.

He doesn’t see the reactions of the other students- a shame, really- but he does hear Hitoshi snap, “Look what you’ve fucking done, assholes,” before guiding Izuku a little ways away and starting to mumble just loud enough for the others to hear, “it’s okay, c’mon baby, we can get some flowers and go visit after this, how does that sound?”

Izuku bursts into full on sobbing (Aizawa once told him he could weaponize his overactive tear ducts to confuse villains and so Izuku has gotten very good at crying on command) and Hitoshi doubles his efforts to “calm him down,” bringing him over to a bench so he can set his drink down and hug him with both arms. After only a few seconds of this he leans down and whispers, “they’re gone.”

With a sigh Izuku sits up, wiping at his face with the back of his left hand. Hitoshi goes all of two seconds before he bursts into abrupt and uncontrollable laughter. Izuku grins at him, snickering quietly as the other boy doubles over with tears in his eyes.

“Y- you- holy shit, Izuku, their faces-”

“Was it good? I couldn’t see. Tell me they went white.”

Hitoshi snorts. “Like ghosts, dude, what the fuck.”

Izuku shrugs. Still smiling like a madman, he leans back in the chair. “Their fault. Shouldn’t have messed with my boyfriend.”

The choking noise Hitoshi makes is ungraceful in the most visceral of ways- like he swallowed his spit and snorted it out at the same time- and immediately afterwards he starts hacking so violently Izuku starts to fear for the integrity of his throat. Quickly, he grabs Hitoshi’s half finished soda and shoves it in his face while also patting him on the back, between his shoulder blades.

“You,” Hitoshi gasps once he’s calmed and taken a few sips of his drink, “are a menace.”

Izuku lifts up his right hand and points at the mark as it grows longer in real time. “Your menace,” he chirps, laughing when Hitoshi sticks his tongue out at him.

~

“Oi! Deku!” Kacchan shouts, right as they’ve been excused to partner up for the exercise. “You and me in the ring, it’s been too fuckin’ long since I’ve gotten to beat your ass.”

But Hitoshi’s already got a hold of Izuku’s wrist, yanking him sideways without even asking. “Sorry, Kacchan,” Izuku calls, putting up absolutely no resistance. “I already told Hitoshi I’d go with him today!”

~

In an actually surprising turn of events, it’s Shoji of all people who figures them out next.

This time it’s Hitoshi’s fault and not Izuku’s. They’re walking back from lunch a little early because Hitoshi’s social battery is almost dead and he needs a break before they have to go back and deal with math (well, Izuku likes it a lot, but he also understands that he’s an outlier and, in the words of half the class, “a freak of nature”). 

They stop in the bathroom, Izuku stepping in a stall while Hitoshi washes his hands because he doesn’t like the texture of any kind of food residue left on his skin. After he’s done and his hands are clean, too, Hitoshi grabs his right wrist and holds their hands together just to look at the colored threads that have almost reached all the way across their palms by now. 

Izuku smiles at him, giving him a few moments. He looks really tired, his eyebags dipping deeper than usual and his eyelids drooping just a bit. Honestly, Izuku’s a little worried he’s gonna fall asleep during their next class, maybe he should take extra notes for him.

They’re brought out of their moment when someone whispers, “oh.”

Both of them jump- Hitoshi significantly more than Izuku- and turn to look at Shoji, standing in the entrance of the bathroom and staring at their hands. Belatedly Izuku pulls his back, shoving it in his pocket, but it’s a testament to how tired Hitoshi is that he takes even longer than that to ball his into a fist and cover it with his other hand.

Too late, though. They both know that Shoji’s seen.

“Uhm,” Izuku says.

Shoji blinks. He looks at where their hands were, and then glances up to meet their eyes. His crinkle at the corners, indicative of a smile beneath his facemask, and then he waves one of his hands. “Don’t worry,” he says, “I won’t tell.”

Both of them sigh. Really, Izuku shouldn’t have been worried about Shoji of all people- he’s sweet, genuine, and quiet, the kind of person to disparage gossip rather than participate in it- but it’s hard not to be when he’s still so worried about Kacchan finding out. 

“Thanks,” Hitoshi grunts.

Shoji gives them a thumbs up and disappears into a stall. Izuku thunks his head against Hitoshi’s shoulder, who huffs a quiet laugh and runs a hand through his hair. Just a few more seconds, and they leave for class.

When Izuku sits in his seat, he notices that his purple thread is beginning to show up just barely on the back of his hand.

Hm.

He didn’t think about that part.

~

“Are they dating?” Hagakure whispers- very badly- as Izuku lies down with his head in Hitoshi’s lap, feet kicked up on the armest so that the two of them take up almost the entirety of the three person couch.

Uraraka has no such filter. “Are you dating?” She blurts, eyes darting between them with that evil little sparkle in them.

Hitoshi’s eyes flick to his for a moment, a silent bit of communication before he looks back at Uraraka. “No,” he lies, deadpan, and all the girls sag.

“Ok, like, cool and all,” Kaminari says, peeking around Uraraka’s shoulder, “but then why is he in your lap? That’s like, a boyfriend thing, right?”

“Because he wants to be,” Hitoshi says, left hand petting Izuku and the other scrolling through his phone to look as disinterested as he possibly can. The contrast between how suave this Hitoshi is and how much of a pile of goo he becomes when they’re alone is hilarious and fantastic and man, Izuku still wants to kiss him. 

Both Kaminari and Uraraka groan, but they don’t press the issue any further.

Kacchan, from his spot next to Kirishima, mimes gagging. “Could you fuckers at least be disgusting somewhere else where I don’t have to see it?”

Hitoshi, still looking at his phone, arches an eyebrow. “If you don’t want to see it, don’t look. It’s not that hard, Blasty.”

“You wanna fuckin’ go, Eyebags?”

“You’re not worth it,” he says. Then he yawns- whether intentionally or not Izuku doesn’t know and does not care- and leans back. “I’m comfortable. Don’t wanna get up.”

Holy. Shit.

Kacchan predictably blows up, but Krisihima manages to wrestle him, still snarling, back down onto the chair.

Hitoshi’s smug little smile is so   hot.

~

The more obvious their soulmark gets, the more Izuku starts to worry.

Soulmate marks can’t get covered by makeup- they show right through. He could start wearing gloves, but it’s almost June and that would be really suspicious. Walking with his hands in his pockets is unlike him, and Uraraka is already starting to notice the way that he covers his right hand all the time, though he’s pretty sure she thinks that’s because he’s insecure about his scars.

Shouto does his best to help, standing next to Izuku in group situations so he can use him as a human shield, but Izuku can’t ask him to keep doing that and people are starting to clue into it anyways. Besides, every time Izuku brings up the fact that he wants them to be hiding their soulmarks, Hitoshi’s face always twitches, slight and subtle but now that Izuku can read him he catches it and- yeah. He understands.

Hitoshi didn’t have a soulmate before Izuku, and he grew up with everyone telling him that no one would ever want him, that he’s a villain and a disgrace and unloveable and now, now that he finally has a soulmate, all Izuku wants to do is hide him from everyone else? It’s- it’s mean. 

And besides even that, Izuku does want to tell people. He wants to tell everyone, actually, because Hitoshi is incredible and Izuku is so, so lucky to be matched up with him, and he wants to flaunt it. He sees the way half their year and some of the underclassmen look at him, and Izuku can’t blame them because yeah, Hitoshi is sweet and kind and strong and incredible and hot. Kind of effortlessly, in the way that really makes you hate a guy.

Fluffy hair, tired eyes, tall, muscular (he still hasn’t gotten a uniform that fits him right because his foster parents won’t buy one for him and Izuku is honestly about to splurge to pay for it himself because good god, it’s distracting). Hitoshi has that mysterious bad boy aesthetic down without even trying, and there are so many people eating it up. Izuku never thought he’d be a jealous person before he saw a first year girl very obviously staring at the way Hitoshi’s back muscles shifted beneath his uniform shirt, and now he feels like he’s going to blow every time Kaminari or Ashido or sometimes even Monoma gets up close to him to flirt. 

(He, oblivious as he is to any romantic advance that isn’t coming from his soulmate, does not notice the people who are looking at him in exactly the same way, nor does he notice how sometimes Hitoshi will step up behind him and loom menacingly at anyone who tries to approach with anything but friendly intent. All of class 2-A does, though, and gradually they begin to realize that Izuku, at least, is off limits)

But he really, really does not want to risk Kacchan finding out. It’s a kind of visceral fear that reminds him of cowering in corners in middle school, running out of the classroom as early as he could to try and beat the other boy home, finding hiding spots for lunch, and ultimately failing at all of those things and getting beat up and burned and hurt and he’s just- afraid.

Kacchan, while better, is still extremely violent with him. During the special training Izuku has with him and All Might to practice with One For All, Kacchan often goes past the point of training and more towards actually fighting. Izuku almost always has to take a trip to Recovery Girl after- and he’s always the one that gets in trouble, just like in middle school when all the teachers told him he needed to stop “provoking” Kacchan- and even when he doesn’t he’s left with bruises and cuts that he doesn’t get from sparring with anyone else.

The other boy still calls him Deku, when even Uraraka calls him by his hero name, Dekiru. He still yells when he mumbles, gets angry when he speaks too loudly, explodes when Izuku just laughs. Every time Izuku’s around him it’s like walking on eggshells, and given the scars that Kacchan gave him when their soulmark first disappeared…

Izuku thumbs at his collarbones and wonders. He can’t use makeup to cover up a mark, but what if Kacchan tried to explode it off? Would that work? Could he take this away from him?

No. He couldn’t. He can’t.  

But Izuku still can’t come to terms with the idea of telling him anything. He sighs.

Maybe there’s a compromise he can make instead.

~

“I want to bring you back to meet my mom this weekend. Is that okay?”

Hitoshi glances up from his laptop at Izuku’s request, brows furrowed. “Doesn’t she think you’re Bakugou’s soulmate? I thought you didn’t want to tell anyone.”

He watches as the other boy twists his hands together, his thumb tracing over the purple lines on his palm in a nervous habit that they’ve both picked up. “Well, yeah, but she won’t say anything if I ask her not to.” Quieter, he whispers, “and this isn’t- it’s not fair to you. I don’t think I can tell Kacchan just yet, but you should at least get to meet my mom.”

Oh. Hitoshi’s heart flutters, but still… “you know I don’t mind, right? I don’t want to put you in a situation where you’re uncomfortable.”

Izuku smiles at him, genuine, with determination in his crinkled eyes. “Yeah, but you do mind. And you’re right, and I’m tired of hiding you. So, come home with me this weekend?”

And that’s how Hitoshi ends up on Midoriya’s doorstep in the nicest pair of slightly ripped jeans he owns complete with an indigo button up that Aizawa bought for him when he started panicking about his abysmal wardrobe during training yesterday.

(Aizawa tried to buy him pants, too, but considering how much his mentor has already done for him Hitoshi had to draw the line somewhere)

Midoriya Inko is a short woman. Shorter than Izuku, even, which is a feat considering that he’s only 165 centimeters tall, but he still beats out his mom. Despite this, Hitoshi feels pinned when Izuku introduces him as his boyfriend and soulmate, stuck watching Midoriya’s eyes for any trace of anger or disappointment or sadness or anything negative, really.

Instead she just gasps, surprised, and looks between the two of them. “Soulmate?” She mutters, “but I-” and then she cuts off and clears her throat, and a smile crosses her face before she steps aside to let them both in. “Well, please come in, dears. Izuku, hun, I made cookies, why don’t you go get some for Shinsou?”

It’s a smooth dismissal. Izuku gets right on it, sliding his shoes off and stepping into his slippers before padding across the relatively small but still homey apartment. Hitoshi follows suit as politely as he can, bowing to Midoriya as he passes her and then gently setting his shoes right beside Izuku, grabbing the slippers in the bin labeled “For guests :).”  

“Thank you for having me, Midoriya-san,” he says.

Midoriya shakes her head. She’s still smiling, which Hitoshi hopes is a good sign. “Oh, please just call me Inko. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing a lot more of you.” She glances down towards their hands, which Izuku had shown her when he first introduced them. “Can I see?”

Hitoshi gives her his hand wordlessly, trying not to tense when she gently takes hold of his wrist to turn it over and look at all of the green threads, a few gold mixed in with them.

“I didn’t know this was possible,” she whispers after a moment.

Alright, he’s got no idea where this is going. He swallows. “Uh, we didn’t either. Apparently it’s a thing.”

Her smile flickers. Then, she sighs. “I can assume he’s told you about Katsuki?”

Ah. They’re going here. Hitoshi tries not to cringe as he nods. “Yeah,” he says, unsure how much he should elaborate.

According to Izuku, his mom- though well-intentioned- has always been trying to push the two of them together. Izuku thinks it’s because of their soulmate bond, but either way Hitoshi knows it was probably harmful to him, and even if he can tell that Inko cares a lot about her son he also knows for a fact that Izuku doesn’t trust her, at least not as much as he loves her, and that means something. For Hitoshi, who hasn’t had parents since they abandoned him when his quirk came in and understands intimately the value of trust, it means a lot.

Inko is important to him the same way Eri is, or Kota, or most of his friends, really. He cares about her a lot, but before she’s his mom, she’s someone he has to protect. Not telling her about Bakugou’s bullying was protecting her, and Hitoshi, privately, in the corner of his mind that he does not tell anyone about, does not think he will ever be able to forgive her for not noticing anyway.

“I’m not sure what happened,” Inko says, letting go of Hitoshi and smoothing her hands over her apron. Her eyes flick up to his, knowing. “I’m sure you have more of the story than I do, but this-” she sucks in a breath- “Izuku’s been happier. Over phone calls, on the few nights he’s come home these past two months, and I can guess that’s probably because of you.”

Hitoshi pauses. Oh. He thinks.

“He wouldn’t have brought you back here if he didn’t trust you,” she continues, oblivious to Hitoshi’s internal screaming, “but I… whatever mistake Katsuki made, try not to repeat it, alright?” She smiles at him, all traces of motherly nerves gone, leaving behind only the warmth and comfort of a loving home. “I might be biased, but I think anyone would be very lucky to have my Izuku.”

Checking to make sure Izuku isn’t close enough to hear- he’s not, he’s still in the kitchen, probably giving his mom time to properly initiate him- Hitoshi looks back to her and says, “I feel very lucky, Midoriya-san.”

She reaches up and pats his cheek. “I told you, Shinsou. It's Inko to you.” Then, she turns to the kitchen and yells, “Izuku! How long does it take you to grab a few cookies?”

“They were hot!” Izuku yells back, peeking his head out of the doorway. “I don’t wanna get burned.”

~

“Did Midoriya’s mom give you the shovel talk?” Aizawa asks first thing when Hitoshi enters the gym on Monday after school.

Hitoshi stops in the doorway and sighs. “Hi, Shinsou, it’s nice to see you. I missed you while I was out in homeroom, how are you? Was your weekend good?”

“I just asked about your weekend,” Aizawa counters.

“I cannot believe Mic-sensei actually wanted to marry you.”

“I can’t either.” His sensei rolls out his shoulders and then gestures towards the sparring mat. “Get over here, we’re stretching.”

They stretch. Thanks to a combination of Aizawa’s training and the dance lessons he’s been taking from Ashido, Hitoshi can now comfortably do a front split on both sides. His straddle split still needs some… work, sure, that’s what he’ll call it, but in general his flexibility is good enough for almost any situation he might find himself in.

It’s while pancaking with his chest nearly on the floor that Aizawa jerks his chin towards Hitoshi’s left hand. “Your mark’s getting a lot bigger.”

He’s right, it is. Hitoshi doesn’t want to say it’s a bad thing because it’s really the opposite, but Izuku’s anxious about Bakugou and Hitoshi’s not about to push him on it. Not after he saw the scars. But the green on the back of his hand is growing even more, branching out into two pathways, one stretching up towards his pinky and the other continuing across.

“Yeah,” he agrees. The thought of it makes him smile, whether or not he’s concerned about Bakugou falling to the back of his mind.

 Aizawa clicks his tongue. “It’s going to become too hard to hide, soon.”

Hitoshi sits up, checks that his back is still straight, and then goes right back down. “We’ll get there when we get there, I guess.”

“Why are you trying to hide it?”

“Maybe you’ll never know,” Hitoshi says. At Aizawa’s raised eyebrow, Hitoshi laughs. “No, it’s not that deep. It’s like, testing out a relationship before you tell your parents, y’know? The mark isn’t formed yet. This could all still go to shit.”

Aizawa huffs. He’s doing his own stretches, a lunge where he turns his knee out to open his hips a bit more. “Responsible,” he says. “But probably unnecessary.” He looks at Hitoshi with soft eyes in this rare moment where they actually talk about feelings of all things. “You know he cares about you, right? The problem child couldn’t get any more obvious about it.”

Actually? Yeah, he does know, which is weird and a little scary. It’s strange how much he believes Izuku when he says things, even before the soulmark when they were just studying and talking about stupid shit. Once he got over his initial reservations about the whole friendship thing, Hitoshi found it surprisingly easy to trust it when Izuku said he enjoyed spending time with him, or liked his company, or thought he was funny. They’re things that would be so easy to lie about, such a simple thing to bluff, and yet…

Hitoshi thought he’d always be really insecure in his first relationship. Especially before their soulmark began to develop, Hitoshi assumed he’d be bumbling and anxious and worried every five seconds that he’d said or done the wrong thing. And he had been with Izuku at first, when there was barely an inch of color on their palms, but he’s settled, and he settled fast, and now… now it’s just nice. It’s okay. This maybe thing with Izuku became a forever thing with Izuku remarkably quickly, and now Hitoshi’s biggest fear is that he’s gonna learn that Izuku snores or something, which wouldn’t even be that big of a deal to put up with for the rest of his life considering that Hitoshi gets four hours of sleep a night on average.

“I know,” Hitoshi says, and he means it. “You should be careful, though. If you keep asking me about it I might start to think you care about me, too.”

Aizawa rolls his eyes before standing up. “Say that again and you’re running suicides for an hour.”

~

Hitoshi is wholly unsurprised to see Bakugou stalking towards him out of the corner of his eye. He sighs, folds the page in the book he was reading, and shoves his left hand in his pocket. He doesn’t bother to get out of the tree, though.

“Oi, Zombie Fucker, get down here.”

“I do not fuck zombies,” Hitoshi argues. “They’re gross and also that’s necrophilia. Vampires, though? I could be persuaded.”

Bakugou snarls. “You know what I fuckin’ meant.”

“Do I?”

The other boy slams his hand against the tree trunk, palm popping threateningly as if this goody-two-shoes “I go to bed at eight PM on the dot” teacher’s pet actually expects Hitoshi to believe he’s going to destroy school property just to get at him. He’s not. All bark, no bite.

“Go away,” Hitoshi says, “I’m trying to read.”

Bakugou glares at him, clearly annoyed that his threat was not taken seriously. He huffs, rolls his eyes, and then decides to get down to business. “Stay the hell away from Deku.”

“Mhm. How about I don’t, and you fuck off and mind your own business.”

“Deku is my fucking business,” Bakugou continues, evidently deciding not to fuck off or mind his own business.

“Since when?” Hitoshi asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Since he’s my fucking soulmate.” More explosions pop in his palms, his eye twitching at Hitoshi’s dismissive attitude. “Back the fuck off, Eyebags.”

Oh boy. Oh man. Oh Jesus fucking Christ. Hitoshi’s first and most powerful instinct is to take his left hand out and flip this guy right the hell off, but he manages to reel in his self control by grabbing hold of the thinnest, fraying thread and yanking as hard as he can manage. His laughter, though, that breaks free, bubbling snickers that he couldn’t help if he wanted to.

He really, really doesn’t.

Bakugou’s hands explode. “The fuck is so funny, dipshit?”

“Your soulmate, huh?” Hitoshi muses, still basically giggling. He tilts his head. “That’s strange. Izuku told me he didn’t have one.”

Red eyes narrow in obvious fury. “Yeah? Well he fuckin’ lied. I’m only telling you to back off one more time.”

“Careful there, Blasty,” Hitoshi warns. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you. And your lying’s shit, too. I’m gonna do what I want, and if Izuku wants it too, well, then you’re just gonna have to deal with it, aren’t you?”

“You-”

“And maybe,” Hitoshi interrupts, “if somewhere along the way I found that, say, you were Izuku’s soulmate before you fucked it up by- oh I don’t know- telling him to jump off a roof after beating the shit out of him for ten years, then it sounds like I’d have to thank you, yeah?” He grins just like Aizawa taught him to- all teeth and viciousness. A threat more than a smile. “After all, without all that, I probably wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

When all Bakugou does is stare at him, wide-eyed and gaping, Hitoshi decides to lay it on even thicker. “But you wouldn’t have, right? Because really, who’d be stupid enough to pass up Midoriya Izuku? Ha.”

Wordlessly, Bakugou clenches his fists and turns to stomp back towards the dorms.

Hitoshi smirks. What a fucking idiot.

~

“I need eggs here, people!” Uraraka cries.

It’s chaos in the kitchen. Mostly because there’s six of them trying to occupy the space at once, reading off different parts of the recipe at different times to different people and passing out different ingredients to six pairs of hands. The only people in this goddamn friend group capable of higher levels of logical thinking are Iida and Tsu (sorry Izuku), and yet someone gave Uraraka access to the electric mixer and put Todoroki in charge of the oven. Hitoshi once watched him try to put soba noodles in the fucking toaster.

They’re trying to make cookies.

They’re going to light something on fire.

“On it!” Izuku calls, opening the fridge with too much force and digging around until he finds the carton of eggs they went out and bought last night for this exact purpose.

Thankfully, the one contribution Hitoshi has made to this dumpster fire is suggesting that they all wear food safe gloves. For sanitary purposes of course, there was no other ulterior motive, what are you talking about? It’s a good thing because Hitoshi’s certain it’s going to be any day now before the entire class finds out that they’re soulmates.

Jirou caught him the other night. Being his best friend outside of Izuku and whatever the fuck this disaster of a squad is she was bound to eventually, although he trusts her when she says she won’t say anything. Jirou is one thing, though- he knows that once Hagakure, Ashido, or Kaminari sees the mark it’s complete game over, because then half the school will know in the time it takes Hitoshi and Izuku to ask them not to tell.

The two of them are doing well so far. Todoroki covers when he can, Aizawa too- he makes them wear their hero costumes more often than not these days so that the both of them can wear gloves without being suspicious in training- but it’s only a matter of time, and the possibility of getting found out only increases each time their soulmark grows that next little bit.

The top branch of the colored threads moved away from their pinkies and instead has begun to wrap around their ring fingers like, well, a ring, and the bottom one looks to be beginning to circle their wrists like a bracelet. It’s like a really pretty, very two-dimensional piece of jewelry. On their palms, buds of what might become flowers have begun to sprout. Hitoshi’s excited to see them bloom one day.

Right now he’s more focused on making sure none of his friends blow up the kitchen.

Izuku grabs the eggs and shuts the fridge, looking like he’s about to sprint back to Uraraka. Unnecessary, there’s like, maybe a couple meters of space between them, and he doesn’t need to-

But he does (this is why Hitoshi doesn’t think he’s capable of any kind of actual thought), and in the most predictable plot twist of the century, his foot catches on the divots in the tile and he falls forwards with a sharp yelp. Hitoshi’s moving before he registers exactly what just happened, one hand snatching the still thankfully closed egg carton from out of the air and the other fisting in the back of Izuku’s t-shirt to keep him from faceplanting onto the ceramic.

“You,” Hitoshi says, panting, “are a fucking idiot.”

Izuku plants his hands so Hitoshi can let him go, and then his soulmate pushes to his feet and turns to glare playfully at him. “How dare you. I fall, nearly lose the eggs which would ruin all our hard work, and you insult me?”

“Who’s fault was it that we almost lost the eggs, huh?”

“I was trying to be fast! Uraraka needed them!”

“I still need them!” She calls. 

Hitoshi blindly holds the carton out in the direction of her voice and doesn’t really pay attention to who takes them. “You were like, barely any distance from her! You could’ve just walked.”

Izuku gets up in his face and jams a finger in his chest. “It was urgent, Hitoshi.”

“ Oh, it was urgent, Hitoshi,” he mocks, “the world didn’t end when you didn’t get there in two seconds, everything would’ve been fine if you walked to her like a normal person.”

His soulmate grins at him. “You don’t know that. Maybe I just unlocked a key point in the timeline.”

“What? Nearly breaking your fucking nose like a dumbass? Oh, you’re welcome by the way, for being the reason you didn’t do that. And also saving the eggs.”

“Oh my god,” Uraraka breathes, and only then does Hitoshi realize he’d also started to lean down so his face is inches from Izuku, near enough that he’d only have to tilt his head and press forwards barely another few centimeters before he could kiss him. The urge is strong.

Izuku, more prone to embarrassment than he is, jumps as soon as he realizes their proximity, blushing so hard Hitoshi’s a little afraid he’s gonna get a head rush from all that blood suddenly rising to his cheeks.

“You two cannot tell me you aren’t dating,” Uraraka continues, pointing a spatula threateningly between them. “Like, seriously, come on.”

Iida frowns. “Uraraka, I hardly think it’s our place to-”

“I- it’s fine, Iida,” Izuku stutters, brushing a stray curl from his face, “I- I mean she’s uhm, she’s right.”

Silence for a moment. Uraraka drops the spatula and gapes, Todoroki’s brows raise even though he was already in on it, and Iida blushes. Tsu, the only sane person in this fucking room at this point, takes over the mixer from Uraraka. 

Hitoshi short circuits for a half second before he realizes what Izuku just said and what that means he is now allowed to do, at least in front of the Squad™. And he knows Izuku did it for him, too, cause he can see the subtle discomfort in his posture as his left foot twitches with the urge to tap and his fingers fight to not twist together. God, he’s so good, such a fantastic fucking boyfriend. Without hesitation, Hitoshi sneaks up behind the still-blushing boy who is facing their friends by the counter, and then scoops him into a bridal hold.

Izuku yelps, but his arms instinctively know to wrap around Hitoshi’s neck right away. Hitoshi knows the dopey, lovesick grin on his face is probably a dead giveaway to his actual thoughts and- ugh- feelings, but he tries to make it as mean as possible as he looks down at his now trapped boyfriend. 

“Now what’re you gonna do?” He asks. “You’re stuck.”

The other boy is still blushing furiously and takes a few seconds to respond. “U- uh, you- Hitoshi, this is mean.”

“You can’t be trusted on the ground,” Hitoshi argues. “Air jail, baby, deal with it.”

Abruptly, Tsu groans. They all jump and look at her, but she’s glaring at Uraraka. “Look what you’ve done, ribbit. Now they’re going to be like this all the time.”

~

It would’ve been pretty dramatic for the reveal of their soulmate bond to be some time during their final practical exams. Y’know, maybe while they were fighting their teachers or a horde of third years, and they were so into the battle that their gloves got ripped off but they had to keep going otherwise they’d fail the exam and it became a desperate battle to hide their bond and pass. Plus Ultra, and all that.

But no. The Incident actually occurs about a week before exams, and Hitoshi is going to blame it all on sleep deprivation and Izuku’s oblivious charm.

Because, okay, look. Hitoshi knows that he’s fucking lucky.

He wasn’t kidding when he said it to Izuku’s mom. Izuku’s the kinda guy that everyone dreams about having but only a handful of people actually get. He’s the sweetest person on the goddamn planet, capable of empathizing with literal serial killers while also retaining enough of a level head to not let it cloud his judgment, he’s the strongest person in their class- quite possibly in the whole school at this point, even though he’s just a second year- he’s wicked smart even if sometimes his logical thinking fails him a bit, but even that only adds to that charisma of his that Izuku says he doesn’t have but he definitely does.

Also, like, their entire school is thirsting after him. With good reason. With very good reason.

Freckles, tanned skin, god his fucking muscles, curly hair- even his height, though short, is the kind of thing that makes you go aw, he’s so cute in a good way. He’s like, pocket sized. Hitoshi can pick him up with ease thanks to Aizawa’s training, maybe twirl him around a bit, take the lead when he tries to teach him dance, and then he can sit back and relax and watch while Izuku absolutely decimates everyone in combat exercises. The boy has layers. Delicious, fantastic layers that everyone wants but only Hitoshi can have.

(Did he mention the muscles?)

The problem here is that not everyone knows that yet. To the wider school, Izuku is still single, and though class 2-A (except Bakugou) has gotten the memo that they need to back the fuck off, everyone else? Not so much.

And so, The Incident.

Hitoshi’s fucking tired, alright? It’s been two days cram studying with no sleep and it’s looking like it’s about to be three, and they’re all walking back from class when a first year girl calls out, “Dekiru-senpai!” and everyone immediately has to stifle their frustrated groans of preemptive second-hand embarrassment, because they all know where this is going.

His eye actually twitches, but Todoroki’s smart enough to grab his arm and pull him away from Izuku’s side so he doesn’t accidentally bite the poor kid’s head off in his state of severe sleep deprivation. Uraraka hangs back with Izuku to make sure nothing bad happens- there was a thing with Yaomomo and a first year boy like a month ago and since then they’ve all been on high alert- and Tsu and Iida walk ahead with Todoroki and Hitoshi, Hitoshi so obviously pissed off there might as well be a neon sign pointing right at the scowl on his face that says, “look! He’s being fucking posessive!”

This is not the first time someone has tried to make a move on his boyfriend. It’s not, and Izuku’s going to turn him down and then Hitoshi can drag him up the stairs and hide with him in his room and maybe take a nap. He’s only this angry because he hasn’t slept and huh. Did he eat lunch? Maybe not. They didn’t have practical training today so…

“Oi! Extra!” Bakugou shouts, followed by the sounds of explosions, the first year screaming in fear, and Izuku and Uraraka’s voices telling him to calm the fuck down.

That, right there, is the beginning of the end.

All four of them immediately turn around to see Bakugou with his hand gripping the first year’s uniform, singeing it while she tries to cower away. He only stays like that for a few seconds before Izuku gets to him, prying his fingers off and shoving him backwards with a heavy amount of force that leaves him stunned and gives Uraraka enough time to gently guide the younger girl away while she sniffles and starts to cry.

Bakugou almost starts to look smug, a smirk on his face that Hitoshi wants to punch because actually what the fuck was that, but he doesn’t get the chance before Izuku rounds on the other boy.

“What the hell, Katsuki?” He snaps, the glare on his face like a storm gathering on the horizon.

“What?” Bakugou demands, smirk gone in place of an annoyed sneer. “That extra should’ve fuckin’ known better.”

Hitoshi exchanges a glance with Todoroki. Yep. This is about to get ugly.

“Should’ve- what? What the fuck are you talking about? You can’t just assault our underclassmen!”

“I’m not just gonna let some pathetic nobody think they can fuckin’ confess to you, Deku.”

Izuku’s expression contorts into a mix of confusion and hurt and rage that almost physically pains Hitoshi to look at. “Why is that any of your business-”

“You’re really asking that goddamn question-?”

“I don’t see how my love life is in any way yours to police-”

Bakugou gets close and jams a finger right towards Izuku’s collarbone, where Hitoshi has seen the explosion scars left behind from when Izuku’s bond with his bully disappeared. “You’re my fucking soulmate, Deku. I ain’t lettin’ a bunch of extras flirt with you.”

Asui and Iida both turn to stare at Hitoshi- which makes sense. Izuku only told them that they’re dating, not about the bond on their hands- but Hitoshi sees red in a way he never has before. All rational thoughts fly out the goddamn window when he sees Izuku’s expression break, cracking like a sledgehammer felled against a thin glass pane, and he’s moving before he can stop himself, before he can even scrounge up the self control to want to try and stop himself. Todoroki lets go of him without a fight.

“I think we had this conversation already, Bakugou,” Hitoshi says, voice level in his fury. He bullies his way between them, Bakugou staring at him like he hadn’t even realized Hitoshi was there in the first place, and takes his left hand out of his pocket to shake it visibly in the air. The first bud on his palm has started to bloom, a deep red carnation that Hitoshi spent a good hour staring at when it first showed up, and the green and gold threads that connect to it like a stem have thickened and strengthened like roots, plain for all to see. “He’s not your soulmate. He’s mine.”

“Ohhhh shit,” he hears Uraraka whisper from where she’s returned a bit to his right.

Bakugou’s face twists like he’s eaten something sour, putrid and wrong but he’s gotta swallow it anyway. Hitoshi lets his glare turn mean, his sneer widening with a curled lip and exposed teeth as he straightens to his full height and looms above him. He steps forwards, Bakugou steps back.

“He’s mine,” Hitoshi repeats, spit flying to land on Bakugou’s cheek, “because you’re a piece of shit abuser and you don’t deserve him. I don’t know why the fuck you think you can come crawling back after all the bullshit you put him through, without even fucking apologizing to him first, but you can’t. He’s my soulmate, my boyfriend, and if you ever fucking touch him again I am going to tear you to pieces.”

Silence ripples across the courtyard. Hitoshi has half a second to regret what he just did before Izuku gently threads his left hand with Hitoshi’s right- huh, that feels really fuckin’ weird now- and squeezes with just the barest hint of pressure. Not mad, the gesture says. I support you.

Bakugou is gaping at him, pale faced, almost embarrassed. His eyes dart to where Hitoshi is still holding up his left hand for emphasis and then back to his face, then to Izuku’s.

“You got another bond,” he whispers. It’s so subdued, a lion tamed with a whip. Hitoshi wants to laugh at the remorse on his face.

Izuku tugs Hitoshi backwards to make space between them. Obviously, he’s expecting this to turn violent. “Yeah,” he answers. “But it’s not really your business, Bakugou. I think you should leave.”

Hitoshi lowers his hand- a peace offering. He’s not gonna start shit if Bakugou doesn’t, first. Evidently the boy doesn’t feel up to it, because he just scoffs once and turns on his heel, marching away with his chin tucked, posture shrunk in a way Hitoshi doesn’t think he’s ever seen on him before. It’s almost wrong how small he looks. Hitoshi’s gotta wonder if this is the first time anyone’s told him no, like, ever.

“Maybe you should ask Aizawa not to pair you two up in class for a bit,” Izuku mutters to him while the few of their classmates who’d lingered for the argument disperse (there were a lot of them. Say what you will about them as heroes but holy shit class 2-A is filled with the worst gossips you will ever meet).

“Actually,” Hitoshi mutters back, still looking after Bakugou’s retreating form, “I’ve got a feeling we’re not gonna have to worry about him again.”

~

It’s maybe two days after The Incident. Izuku is sitting happily at lunch, the spot to his right officially taken up by his boyfriend, talking to his friends across from him about the latest hero polls. 

The rankings won’t come out for some time now, but every month Tokyo Broadcasting Systems likes to do an unofficial “if the rankings came out now, who would be number one” type of thing, and the results for July just came out yesterday.

“Can you believe Hawks is projected to be number one?” Uraraka asks around a mouthful of food, ignoring Iida’s indignant cry of, “don’t talk with your mouth full!”

“Endeavor must be furious, ribbit,” Tsu says.

Beside him, Shouto snorts dryly. There’s a smirk on his face that suggests that yes, Endeavor was furious about it, and whatever happened because of it was funny. Oh to be a fly on the wall of the Todoroki household.

“Don’t forget that Best Jeanist was projected to take number two,” Izuku reminds them brightly, because that makes Shouto laugh even harder, enough that he has to cover his snickers with a cough. “I guess the public is finally getting fed up with how terrible of a hero he is.”

Hitoshi taps him on the shoulder. “Gonna run to the bathroom real quick,” he mutters, before slipping out of his seat, likely to go do just that.

“Don’t fall in!” Uraraka yells after him, still chewing. Hitoshi flips her off as he leaves.

“For the love of- Uraraka please stop talking with your mouth full-”

“Wh-af?” She asks, shoveling another bite of her soba into her mouth and chewing so obnoxiously in Iida’s direction that an entire noodle falls into her lap. “I can’ ‘ear you. Foof’s too good.”

Tsu sighs. “I’m glad it looks like Ryukyu’s going to move up a spot,” she says, ignoring Uraraka entirely.

“Didn’t she spearhead that rescue effort on the coast last week?” Izuku asks. He could’ve sworn he heard something about it on the news… “oh! Yeah, there was a landslide. She got everyone out pretty much single handedly- I saw one network comparing it to All Might’s debut.”

“She’s a good hero,” Shouto says. “She deserves the recognition.”

Uraraka slams her hands on the table, mouth finally free of food. “What’s this about my girl Ryukyu?”

“She’s our boss, ribbit.”

“My girl, yeah, that’s what I said.”

Iida sighs so heavily Izuku almost wants to hug him. Almost. “She moved up to the number nine spot,” he says instead.

Uraraka gasps. “Let’s go! I knew she could do it.”

“Inside voice,” Iida tries.

Shouto sighs. “Iida, it’s a lost cause.”

“Uh, hate to interrupt,” comes Jirou’s voice to their right. They all stop talking and look to see her jamming her thumb behind her, a frown on her face. “But Midoriya, you might wanna go help your boyfriend. Looks like not everyone’s got the memo about, uh, y’know.”

Izuku looks. He blinks. 

“Huh,” he mutters, before sliding out of his seat and walking over to the cafeteria entrance where Monoma is currently holding onto Hitoshi’s arm, leaning into him in an obnoxious way that’s very clearly making him uncomfortable. Hitoshi’s got that furrow in his brow and that pinch in the bottom of his lip to show that he’s biting the inside of his gum, and his knees are locked like he’s trying to appear taller to scare him off, like maybe Monoma’s a bear or something that’ll go away if he just looks big enough and starts screaming.

“Come on,” Monoma’s groaning, using the grip he has on Hitoshi’s arm to yank him down. “Are you really so stuck up now that you’re in class A that you won’t go out with me once?”

Hitoshi jerks his arm free, rubbing at his wrist over his glove. They’ve started wearing them now that the class knows, and a few other people wear them as well to assuage suspicion. It’s fine for the people they live with to know about their soulmarks, but the whole school? That’s a safety concern, and it could get out to villains and put them in danger later in their careers. “I already told you,” Hitoshi hisses, glaring, though he looks more upset than anything else. “I’m not-”

“He’s taken,” Izuku says for him, before fisting his left hand in Hitoshi’s uniform top and yanking him down to kiss him.

Hitoshi’s mouth is slack against his for all of two seconds before he gets with the program and starts kissing him back. One broad hand finds Izuku’s hip as the other- the left one- finds Izuku’s free right one to lace their fingers together. The moment Izuku’s left hand slips up to cup Hitoshi’s cheek instead of holding him down Hitoshi brings his arm up from his hip to the small of his back and then spins him into a dip, dramatic and petty and oh this is a nice angle to get kissed at.

He cracks an eye open to see that Monoma, at some point, has run away. Good. Even if Hitoshi wasn’t Izuku’s, Monoma still wouldn’t deserve him.

As soon as his eye shuts again a camera flash goes off- probably Uraraka, damn her- making Hitoshi smirk and then laugh against Izuku’s lips. On their hands, Izuku can almost physically feel a new flower blooming, more roots stretching across their palms and wrists and even a little down onto their arms.

(Their mark won’t be complete until they graduate. In its final form it stretches all the way down their arms to their shoulders, covering Izuku’s scars and masking the ones Hitoshi eventually gets on his internship with Aizawa, and the root system it builds holds a dozen different types of flowers. Izuku’s favorite is the violet xeranthemum that rests just in the crook of their elbows, the one that means eternity, immortality, and everlasting love.

Hitoshi’s favorite is the yellow snapdragon on their forearms. It symbolizes strength, but he doesn’t actually care about that part. He just thinks it looks cool.)