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Tenma was never allowed to have a soulmate. He needs to be marketable, to sell the “hot, young and famous boyfriend” aesthetic his agency built for him. He’s acted in plenty of soulmate shows and movies before, every romance movie was practically centered around it, like a law of nature. There were different types of soulmate bonds, but Tenma always had to cover up his to play someone else’s soulmate.
He remembers when the bond first kicked in. He was 12, on the set for a commercial for… Something. The setting didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered was the sudden searing pain on the side of his right hand. He hissed, seeing the red bloom. His hand wasn’t even touching anything, why does it hurt so much? He whimpered, clutching his hand to his chest.
He walked up to Igawa, who had just finished a call with some Sumeragi business partner. More decisions being made above Tenma’s head, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was getting rid of the pain and reddened skin. Igawa took his hand, looked at the wound with no cause and immediately called Tenma’s parents.
Apparently, that was his soulmate getting burned, not Tenma. A second degree burn, but Tenma’s hand was relatively unscathed besides a slightly red patch on the heel of his palm for a few hours. Tenma’s parents cursed whoever his soulmate is for ruining Tenma’s perfect skin, his mother nearly breaking down crying when she found out it’s a pain sharing bond. His parents aren’t soulmates, but Igawa’s soulmate bond leaves him one sentence his soulmate had said at the end of each day. Igawa never tells him what his soulmate says, but sometimes Tenma sees Igawa more engrossed than usual in scripts with spy plots.
Tenma didn’t see anything wrong with his soulmate bond, he didn’t understand why his parents were devastated at the news. He might get hurt a bit, so what? Sure, getting burned was awful, but once his soulmate realizes their bond, they’ll be more careful. He’ll be fine!
Tenma believed this until he was 13 and felt something sharp go across his hip while reviewing a script. He immediately tugged his waistband down and looked at the fresh, clean line skating along his side. He didn’t bleed, but he knows his soulmate was. Okay, he was pissed at the bond now. Unless his soulmate was gracefully losing a knife fight, this was obviously self harm. He slapped his hip, causing the fresh cut to sting. Yeah, that’s what you get for harming not just yourself, but others. He pinched his thigh for good measure, hard enough to leave a pink mark. His soulmate should know they have a pain bond, Tenma’s gotten too many papercuts off of scripts for whatever idiots on the other side to forget. The cuts stop, but the sting lasts. He knows his soulmate feels worse, hopefully more remorse than pain.
Tenma lives his life despite his terrible bond. Probably bottom of the barrel as bonds go, why couldn’t they have something cool, like sharing any writing on their skin? No, that wouldn’t be cool, Tenma needs to keep his skin free of any soulmate marks, to sell the teenage heartthrob angle. He knows he’s hot shit, but it still feels wrong to disregard the person struggling on the other side. There were more cuts, but Tenma always slapped them, deterring any more in the same session.
When Tenma joined Mankai, he almost forgot about his soulmate entirely. He was too busy making new friends, fighting for his life on stage. Yes, he got a few bumps and bruises from his soulmate, but those were normal wear and tear. The papercuts definitely increased, but Tenma’s did too.
-
It wasn’t until Tenma was laying on the practice room floor on his phone, the whole troupe with him, that he remembered he had a soulmate.
Masumi was always quiet, except for when he was being a creep to the Director. He was okay company for Tenma, since they didn’t need to speak. They found comfort in their shared silence after a lifetime of lonely silence. Their current surroundings were by no means silent, but they gravitated towards each other for that comfortable quiet nobody else understood.
Masumi leaned against the wall, also fiddling with his phone. He was playing some dumb rhythm game, the small taps comforting background noise for Tenma’s manga reading. They wouldn’t be up for improv for a good bit, Tsuzuru and Homare were a sure combo for lengthy etudes. They didn’t need to pay attention either, even the Director seemed to be checking out.
Masumi’s taps suddenly ceased as his finger caught on his shitty, cracked screen protector. He shook his finger out and brought it up to his mouth.
Tenma also hissed in pain, but from his soulmate bond. God, his soulmate had been getting a lot of finger scrapes lately, in addition to the paper cuts they both get on the regular.
“Why’re you acting like you’re hurt?” Masumi spoke around the finger in his mouth.
“‘Cause my soulmate just did some shit to their finger.”
Masumi’s hand slowly drifted down to his leg, giving a sharp pinch.
Tenma jolted, feeling another pain from his soulmate. Masumi dug his fingernails into his shin, leaving little red crescents on it.
“Are they walking through a thorn bush?” Tenma lifted up his pant leg to check the phantom pain.
Masumi slapped his own hand, the sound causing Tenma to look up. “What are you doing?”
“Guess what.” Masumi kicked himself in the shin, full force.
“Fuck, what?!”
“We’re soulmates.” Masumi punctuated his point with a firm punch to his thigh.
“Huh?” Another swift shock of pain is delivered. “Why couldn’t you just tell me like a normal person?! Why are you beating the shit out of me!” Tenma kicked himself in the shin, just to test.
“I had to check. It’s not like I want to be soulmates with you.” Masumi slapped himself, more of a sting than any sort of impact to see the red bloom on Tenma’s cheek. Tenma pinched his cheek where the slap was.
Tenma and Masumi continue slapping, pinching, and kicking themselves, ramping up in volume and intensity.
“You better not leave a bruise, I have a shoot tomorrow.”
“So you’re telling me I should.”
Tenma got so mad he kicked Masumi instead of himself. Masumi simply mocked him, saying, “Ha, you felt that too.”
Their weird catfight caught the attention of the rest of the room. “What the hell are you two doing? Stop being violent during practice!” Izumi raised her voice, which would usually stop Masumi in his tracks, but he was on a mission.
“It’s this guy’s fault I had to wear concealer on my damn knees, he tried to learn to skateboard last month!” Tenma shouted, adding no comprehensible context to the situation.
“You broke your toe last year, jackass. Hurt way more than a scraped knee.”
“What are you two talking about?” Izumi cut in.
“I’m this asshole’s soulmate, apparently.” Tenma’s words brought the room to a standstill. Everyone turned to look at Masumi and Tenma, taking in their disheveled appearances. Ruffled clothes, frizzy hair, and a little bit of blood.
“You just had to tell everybody.” Masumi sighed and threw up his hands.
“It’s why we were beating each other up. Ah fuck, it hurts.”
“That’s the point.” Masumi shoved himself off the floor, ignoring his own pain, and stalked out of the practice room.
Tenma stared at the door swinging shut. The practice room was still silent, until Izumi sat next to him, clapping her hands. “Alright everybody, take fifteen. We’ll get this teen drama sorted out, then back to work.”
Everybody dispersed to get their water, go to the bathroom, despite barely any of them actually practicing or paying any attention at all to the etudes. Even Homare was quiet, soulmates being far out of his depth. Nobody wanted to touch Masumi’s love life with a ten foot pole. Though, Spring Troupe seemed to want to for some reason, they left without even a glance in each other’s directions.
Izumi clapped her hand on Tenma’s shoulder. “So, soulmates huh?”
“Director, please don’t make this awkward.”
“I’m not trying to! I just want to help you guys out. I haven’t met my soulmate yet.”
“Really?”
“Yep, really. I have a soulmate mark on my stomach. How am I supposed to find my soulmate without wearing a crop top daily?”
Tenma hummed and picked at his shoelaces.
“I want to find them, but I don’t think I need to where I am right now. I don’t need romance in my life to be fulfilled, I have all I need right here.” Izumi leaned back, taking a swig from her water bottle. “Soulmates are nice and all, but you don’t have to be with them. Masumi has a lot of… issues with romance, but your bond doesn’t have to be romantic. Sometimes it feels like all of you are my soulmates.”
“Yeah, I know I don’t need romance, I don’t think he’d even be into that, but… I just wish he wouldn’t be so upset about it. Does he hate me now or something?”
“No, I don’t think so. Deep down, Masumi’s really kind. He just needs some time to figure it all out. Did you guys find out just now?”
“Yeah. He cut his finger, then I felt it, and it all kinda escalated from there.”
“Pain sharing bond?”
“Yeah…”
“Ouch. Literally. Has that ever been a big problem before?”
“My parents don’t like it, but I don’t mind most of the time. It kinda… reminds me that someone’s out there for me.”
“That’s really cute!”
“Director, stooop.” Tenma buried his head in his knees, but peeked out with one eye. “Do you think he’s ever gonna be okay with it?”
“Probably. He’s a stubborn kid, you know what he’s like. But, I think having someone with him would help him. He’s been… lonely, for a long time. You guys are pretty similar, y’know?”
“You think so?”
“Yeah. You both didn’t have a lot of-” Izumi paused, “-connections before joining Mankai.”
“It’s okay, you can say friends and family.”
“Yeah, that. You guys were both kinda awkward, you weren’t used to having people around you at all times.”
“I wasn’t as awkward as Masumi!”
“Ha, definitely not. You had your moments, though. Well, moral of the story, just give him some time. He has some hangups, but he’ll get over it. Hopefully. Anyway, you’re dismissed from practice today. Please don’t injure yourself or Masumi anymore. I nearly had a heart attack seeing you two.”
“Thank you Director. Really, thank you.”
-
Masumi has always been fascinated by the idea of soulmates since he could comprehend the concept. That someone could be yours, destined from birth, destined for a happy life together. His parents weren’t soulmates, and they weren’t happy together. The logical conclusion that anyone would make is that soulmates are absolutely integral for happiness.
He believed this until he was thirteen, and absolutely hated whoever was on the end of the bond. Whatever asshole was over there had no care for their hands, with so many papercuts it’d be a wonder if there’s any untouched skin. They were clumsy too, banging their shins and elbows into things. Masumi still loved soulmates, but he didn’t love his. Call him petty, but a pain bond would piss anyone off.
He tried, he really tried to ignore it, to treat whoever was on the other side the best he could, but he couldn’t take it. He wasn’t in control of his own pain, he wasn’t in control of his own life, he wasn’t in control of anything. He couldn’t help but slice his skin just a little. Beneath his waistband, somewhere nobody would see and ship him to the hospital. He got one cut deep before there was a resounding slap, and a dull pinch. He dropped the scissors, and went to bed. Who cares about soulmates? He can’t have anything anyway.
When Masumi first saw Izumi, he saw a choice. A rope to get out of the pit he’d dug himself into without realizing. Like an oasis in a desert, like the glowing gates of heaven, Izumi was the one thing that Masumi could chase. Unreachable, but within reach. It’s not like anybody could tell him not to.
He didn’t need to be soulmates with Izumi, soulmates were old news. He could chase and chase after that perfect ideal, join a theater company, make new friends, make a new family. Having a pain bond was fucking annoying, but it didn’t interfere with his life too much.
Soulmates are bullshit, Masumi tells himself, his headphones turned up to max and buried in his covers. He can’t breathe because of the blanket, but that’s okay.
Tsuzuru picks up a corner of the blanket, peeking at Masumi’s sullen face. “You’re gonna suffocate in there! Mope with some oxygen at least.”
Masumi can’t even hear him, but he can assume he’s saying something about the blanket. Masumi snatches the blanket back, but doesn’t cover himself again.
Tsuzuru sighs, and leaves Masumi to his moping.
Soulmates are bullshit, soulmates aren’t some annoying and loud orange guy who accidentally steals your socks. Soulmates aren’t the guy who has the same sweatshirt as you and didn’t notice when you swapped them.
Masumi didn’t need soulmates, soulmates are for happy people in movies with blinding teeth. Fuck, Tenma didn’t deserve a soulmate like him, he deserves someone who’s teeth are so white they glow. Someone who doesn’t hurt him.
Masumi knows Spring is lurking at his door, probably talking in hushed tones about what to do with him. He doesn’t care. Who cares anymore, anyway?
-
“Hi Masumi.” Tenma hesitantly opens the door to 102, and spots a mess of dark hair on dark pillows.
The body hidden in the blankets glances towards the door opening, then promptly rolls over when he sees who it is.
“Could you at least look at me? I just want to talk.” Tenma stands at the bottom of Masumi’s ladder, trying to get a peek at Masumi. He hadn’t been out of his room for the whole day, and didn’t eat until Tsuzuru forced him to.
“Fuck off.” Masumi’s voice is muffled.
“Can you just please look at me? I wanna make sure you’re okay.” Tenma had felt some dull pain emanating from his chest. It’s happened before, it happened when they were middle schoolers, it happened when Masumi almost left the company. It happened way too often for Tenma to be comfortable with it if his hypothesis of what it is was correct.
“I’m fine, I’m not hurt. You would know.”
“No, Masumi, you are hurt. Honestly, I’m hurt too. You just ran out on me! Don’t I get a say in this?”
“I don’t want a fucking soulmate.” Masumi rolls over to face Tenma. His eyes are bleary, and his face covered in blanket marks. It eliminates every intimidating aspect of what he said.
“Well, you have one. Nothing we can do about it. We don’t have to talk about this ever again. Just, stop getting hurt.” Tenma runs his hand through his hair. God, this sucks. Masumi’s a brick wall on a good day.
“You stop first. You stubbed your toe an hour ago.”
“Stop keeping track!” Tenma sighs in relief. Okay, back to banter, he can do this. Familiar territory, not feelings talk.
“Fine, we’re soulmates. I don’t give a fuck. Leave.” Masumi turns back over and turns the volume on his headphones up so loud Tenma can hear it.
-
Tenma wouldn’t say he’s on bad terms with Masumi, but it’s different than the silent comradery they once shared. No purposeful eye contact, that’s not new, but they can’t even meet gazes without Masumi wanting to leave. Rude, much?
Tenma tries not to get hurt even more now that he knows there’s someone on the other side. He was already careful, but Yuki says he should just wrap himself in bubble wrap if he’s going to act like this. Maybe no physical pain, but definitely emotional pain.
The entire troupe tiptoes around him and Masumi, extra sensitive with Masumi. The talk of soulmates is silently banned, with people shutting up immediately once the topic slips. Tasuku and Tsumugi are forbidden from talking about their bond, and Banri and Juza don’t acknowledge theirs that often anyway.
Tenma knows that soulmates don’t need to be romantic, but he’s secretly always yearned for a bond like the ones he’s acted out. Writing secret notes on each other, knowing what song the other person is singing, something cute and digestible. He thought the pain bond could work, it could be a little secret they share. He just didn’t expect the person on the other side to be one of the most frustrating people he’s ever met.
How is he his soulmate if they’re wholly incompatible now? They used to comfortably exist next to each other, not speaking, but this new level of not speaking is frankly ridiculous. It’s not like Tenma did anything wrong, right?
He knows Spring Troupe is giving Masumi constant advice, with supposedly covert looks in his direction. He pretends he doesn’t notice, he pretends he doesn’t notice purple eyes boring into the back of his head.
-
Tenma is down the street, picking up snacks for the Summer Troupe. He’s treated like the group’s wallet, but he doesn’t care. Muku and Yuki offered to go with him, but Tenma refused. He needs the fresh air, and it’s less than a five minute walk. The stares of everybody in Mankai were getting annoying. Even Kamekichi wanted a piece of the gossip, and that was where Tenma drew the line. He’s not letting that bird know a damn thing.
He breathes in the night air, shaking out his limbs, rustling the plastic bag in his hands. It feels good to be out, even if he can’t see the stars on this cloudy night. He sits on a bench in the park, letting the peace sink in. Wait, the park? The park isn’t on the way to the convenience store at all. Where the hell is he?
He shoots up and looks around. He thinks he’s been to this park before, he’s in the middle of it somehow. The lights are sparse, the lamps lining the path flickering. Oh shit, he needs to get back. He pulls his phone out, frantically opening Google Maps. Okay, he’s in Shikotsu Park. Where the hell is that?
He’s hunched over his phone when he feels a sharp cold in his back. At first he thinks something happened to Masumi, but then the realization happens, and he feels hot breath on his neck.
He reaches behind him, blindly grabbing the wrists of a woman. He twists her hands, unluckily pulling whatever was in his back out. He feels more than hears the disgusting squelch, and the spray-dribble of what is for sure blood. He should run, but there’s nowhere to hide. He apprehends the struggling and screaming woman, trying to get her down with one hand so he can use the other to call for help. They tumble to the ground, the woman is surprisingly strong.
“Tenma, Tenma, don’t hurt me! I’m your soulmate! See, I’m bleeding too!” The woman writhes in his grip, trying to show him her matching wound.
Tenma keeps quiet, not giving her any satisfaction. This crazy bitch just stabbed him! He can feel his blood and the woman’s blood mixing together on the dirt path, soaking into his shoes and pants. It’s almost cold, if he could focus on anything besides the buzz in his head. He thinks he should be hurting like hell, but all he can feel is heat, cold, and the absence of blood. His blood should definitely not be on the ground, that’s for sure.
The woman tries to stab him again behind her back, aiming for his stomach this time. He blocks the blow with his arm, the flesh of his forearm nearly being sliced off. She pretends to look hurt, “Ow!” cradling her own arm. Wrong move, it’s not the arm that she stabbed him on.
“You’re not my soulmate, you’re fucking crazy!” He twists her wrists so hard he hears something crack. That causes the knife to fall out of her hand, and he kicks it away. He sees it’s actually a bedazzled pink boxcutter. Seriously? You couldn’t have stabbed him with something better?
His whole body burns with adrenaline and pain. He can’t see very well, which is probably the tears welling up in his eyes. His back hurts, his arm hurts, his knees hurt, his feet hurt? Why do his feet hurt?
Tenma hears running coming down the path over the screaming and shoots his head up.
“Masumi?!” Masumi is running as fast as Tenma’s ever seen him run with Misumi and the Director behind him. Finally, some help!
“This crazy bitch stabbed me!” Tenma shakes the woman for emphasis and has to dodge a bite.
“No, I’m Tenma’s soulmate! I was proving it!” The woman thrashes in Tenma’s grip, trying to kick Tenma’s knees out so he’ll fall over.
Misumi dives at the woman, and effortlessly separates her from Tenma. If he wasn’t bleeding out, Tenma would give a standing ovation. More screaming, and Tenma feels like screaming himself.
Tenma lays back on the ground and sighs, the adrenaline beginning to leave him. Oh, that’s not good. Fuck, fuck, fuck! It hurts!
Masumi leans over him on the ground, face pale and sweaty. “I said to stop getting hurt.”
Tenma laughs. He laughs so hard a little bit of blood bubbles out of his mouth. He can barely see Masumi through his tears of laughter and pain.
Masumi’s face contorts in pain. “Stop laughing. It fucking hurts.” He sits on the ground next to Tenma, mindful to not sit in the blood. “Director’s calling the cops.”
“Good. Crazy bitch was pretending to be you. You’re way better than her.” Tenma examines the arm that’s sluggishly bleeding. It isn’t too deep, just long and wide. “How did you know to come?”
“Felt pain. Misumi tracked you down with birds and shit. And Director put a tracker on your phone.” Masumi rolls up his sleeve to check the matching cut. “Please go to the hospital fast. I ran here feeling the way you do, I need you drugged up.”
“I don’t control that!” Tenma tries to sit up, dizzy from blood loss, and Masumi hovers his arms around him. “I’m fine. Just a bit sore.”
“Are you stupid?” Masumi looks Tenma straight in the eyes. “You got stabbed. Twice. You’re only feeling adrenaline. I want to start screaming.” Masumi is white faced, clenching Tenma’s sleeve on the good arm.
“Please don’t kill me, I had enough of that today.” Tenma feels the blood loss hit him, and starts to blink rapidly. “Thanks for getting me Masumi, I’m glad you’re my soulmate. I know you don’t want to be my soulmate, but could we try?”
Masumi sighs, and grimaces. “Fine. Fuck you for making me feel like this, though.”
Tenma would laugh again if it didn’t hurt so bad. Maybe having a soulmate isn’t so bad.