notes: i cranked this out in a day to make it in time for day 2 of shokugeki otp week, and i wish i was better about deadlines so i could have paced myself better and maybe made this even longer TvT but i hope it is enjoyable anyway!
When Megumi is five years old, she cuts her finger.
The strange thing is, she isn't holding a knife when it happens. She isn't holding a pair of scissors or a sheet of paper or anything that can possibly cut her. All she does is help her mother roll cookie dough into balls and place them on the baking tray, but in the middle of rolling a handful she feels a quick and sharp pain on her index finger.
Shocked, she watches as blood oozes in a thick drop from the wound.
She wails.
Her mother is at her side immediately, asking in a panicked voice, "What's wrong Megumi-chan?"
"My finger," she cries, her vision blurred by tears.
Her mother grasps her hand gently, furrows her brows as she examines her finger.
"Megumi-chan, I—I don't see anything, what is it?"
"But I cut it!"
Megumi points with her free hand at her wounded finger.
The cut is gone. Not a single sign of it ever being there remains on Megumi's skin.
The fear that gripped her, however, doesn't loosen. It only makes her more confused and she cries even more.
Her mother sighs. She presses a quick kiss to Megumi's finger, asks gently, "Would a bandaid help you feel better, Megumi-chan?"
Megumi nods sadly, lets herself be dragged out of the kitchen to the restroom where her mother rummages through the medicine cabinet for the box of bandaids. After it's been carefully applied, her mother giving it another kiss for good measure, they return to the kitchen and finish putting all the cookies into the oven, and Megumi forgets all about the incident.
When she is ten, her eyebrow hurts.
It is the evening and she is doing homework for school tomorrow, and in the middle of writing math problems, her eyebrow bursts with pain.
She gasps, hands flying to her face, clutching where she feels blood drip. Her eyes water and she stands abruptly, clumsily running out of her room to the restroom.
She flies to the sink, hands scrabbling for the faucet. When she pushes them into the water, she expects it to run pink. It doesn't. There is no blood on her hands like she thought.
Megumi looks frantically into the mirror.
Her eyebrow is fine.
"What?" she whispers, touching her face, fingers rubbing over where she felt stinging pain not even a minute ago. But everything about her looks normal, not a single wound on her face. In the heat of the moment she hadn't considered how impossible it was for her to be wounded while doing homework; she only reacted instinctively to the pain. But she felt so certain that she had been cut, and that she would look into the mirror and find her eyebrow bleeding from a wound that would most likely heal into a permanent scar.
It aches again, briefly, not nearly as badly as it initially did but enough to assure Megumi that no, the pain was not imaginary. She remembers the time she thought she cut her finger years ago, how real the pain felt and how she saw the blood drip from her finger—and how it all disappeared in the blink of an eye.
What is happening to her, she doesn't know. But it is consistent, and it hasn't gone away.
Staring wide-eyed at her reflection, Megumi says, "… I'm going crazy."
Over time, she gets used to it.
Besides the eyebrow incident, most of her "dream pains" occur on her hands. She's already spending a lot of time with her mother in the kitchen learning how to cook in earnest, and she's accustomed to the occasional cut from a sharp knife or the sting from popping oil. Even though the dream pains are a bit annoying, at least she's used to this—it's like getting double the number of knife cuts she usually does.
There are occasional other dream pains, too—sometimes she feels like her knee is bruised out of nowhere, or like she's stubbed her toe on an invisible chair.
She doesn't exactly enjoy it, but she doesn't know how to explain the issue to her mother, either. Even if she did, there probably isn't anything anyone can do for her. So she hides it. She copes with the dream pains and moves on with her life.
Her mistake was underestimating how shrewd her mother is.
They're making a soup together in the kitchen one afternoon, her mother explaining the intricacies of the recipe while Megumi carefully follows her instructions, when she feels something burn her arm like a brand.
The burn is brief but intense, and Megumi cries out and lurches away from the counter she was cutting vegetables on.
"Megumi!"
Her mother rushes to her.
"I-It's nothing!" Megumi assures shakily, blinking away tears. "I, um. I cut myself a little."
"That was not a little," her mother insists, worry thick in her voice. "Let me see."
"No, it's fine—"
She grasps Megumi's arm, thoroughly checking it for wounds. While she furrows her brows in confusion, Megumi only feels tired recognition. Another dream pain.
Her mother rubs a thumb over the skin of Megumi's arm, looking troubled.
"… This isn't the first time this has happened," she says finally.
Megumi wants to deny it, but her arm still aches with the vestiges of the dream pain and it makes her tired. So she nods in resignation.
"That time when you were small," her mother continues. "And lately, you've been hurting yourself more often. They're not always real, are they?"
"I don't know what they are," Megumi admits softly. "But… It's been happening for a while."
Her mother regards her for a moment silently, then sighs.
She wraps her arms around Megumi in a sudden hug. Megumi, overwhelmed, clings to the fabric of her mother's sweater and fights against the tears that threaten to fall down her cheeks.
"Megumi-chan," her mother says, "you can tell me anything. You know that."
"Yes." Megumi sniffles. "I'm sorry."
"Shh, it's okay." Her mother rubs a hand over her hair. She pulls away a little to meet Megumi's eyes. "I think I know what's been happening."
"Y-You do?"
She smiles, pets Megumi's hair again. "Yes. Let's sit down."
They move to the living room, and her mother leaves Megumi on the couch for a moment while she makes tea and brings a blanket to wrap around her shoulders. Afterwards they sit beside each other, and Megumi waits quietly as her mother takes a deep breath.
"So," she begins. "I've talked to you before about soulmates, right?"
Megumi doesn't understand what that has to do with anything, but she pulls her knees up to her chin and wraps her arms around them as she mumbles, "That the signs for soulmates manifest differently for everyone?"
"Yes. For most, it manifests as a tattoo. The type of tattoo differs a lot—sometimes it's a symbol or a quote or a name. But there are other signs, too. Sometimes people don't see color until they meet their soulmate. Sometimes soulmates share thoughts."
Her mother reaches out to hold Megumi's hands.
"It's rare, but sometimes soulmates share pain, too."
Megumi's heart stops in her chest.
"It must be a difficult thing to bear, feeling the pain of another person along with your own." Her mother's hands squeeze hers comfortingly. "But someone out there is bearing it along with you. I promise."
Megumi stares at her, too shocked to know what to say.
"… Oh," she says softly.
"Are you okay?" her mother asks tentatively.
"I—Yes." Megumi nods through the wild jumble of her thoughts.
"What was it this time?" her mother asks.
"It was, um. It was a burn, I think." Megumi curls her hand around her arm, remembering. "They get cuts on their hand a lot too, like I do from cooking. Sometimes I feel hot oil spitting from a pan."
Her mother makes an amused sound. "You really are soulmates. It looks like they're a chef, too."
Megumi blushes and buries her face in the blanket wrapped around her. Her mother laughs, hugging her.
She lets Megumi take a break from the kitchen for today and rest while she takes in this new information. Megumi lies on her bed in her room, staring up at the ceiling. She touches her finger, her eyebrow, her arm, all these places she thought she was hurt but instead were someone else entirely all along.
She touches a hand to her chest, wondering if her soulmate can feel just how rapidly her heart is beating. Whoever they may be, they seem to hurt themselves a lot. She hopes they are doing okay.
When Megumi is fifteen, she meets Yukihira Souma.
When they first meet, she is on the verge of becoming the newest addition to Tootsuki's long, long list of expellees, and being associated with Souma is the last thing she needs for her already tenuous academic status. But after their first class together where their dish is nearly ruined and Megumi sees herself packing her bags and heading home, Souma proves her wrong. His tenacity and quick thinking spur him forward, and he doesn't give up, not on the dish or her. Together, they receive the first A grade she's had in a long time.
Yukihira Souma becomes one of her dearest friends at a school where she felt so alone for so long, and she is grateful for him every single day. She values their friendship deeply, and it's only after the Autumn Election that she realizes something else very important.
Souma says to her on that balcony, "I like your cooking."
It makes Megumi feel exuberant; it makes her glow inside, like she's radiating starlight just like the glistening night sky above them.
And she realizes then that maybe she likes Souma a whole lot more than she first thought.
The topic of soulmates doesn't come up often in conversation—the intimacy of it makes it private information, usually, and people with tact don't ask outright about it. Despite the residents of Polar Star being the complete antithesis to tact (Isshiki's habit of peeking into their rooms through the ceiling is evidence of this enough), they've never really discussed soulmates before. Maybe it's because there's far too much going on at Tootsuki anyway, soulmates are the last thing on anyone's mind.
She can't help but be curious about Souma. She's never given much credence to the thought that her soulmate might possibly be him. She has no reason to support it anyway besides sheer, dumb hope. But then again, she has no reason to dismiss it entirely either.
There is the scar on his eyebrow, the same eyebrow that hurt her so many years ago.
No, absolutely no way. Megumi shakes her head to rid the thought, an embarrassed blush rising to her cheeks. She resolves to push it out of her mind and focus on her schoolwork.
But still—it would make everything easier to bear if it were him. The quickened heart beats, the almost-touches, the way his smile makes butterflies burst inside her stomach. It would all be so much easier if it were him.
Polar Star is celebrating the end of midterms with a party.
When everyone is gathered together like this, it makes Megumi realize just how many new friends they've gained over the last year. The Aldini brothers are here along with Mito and Kurokiba and Alice. There are others, too, like Houjou and Hayama. It's a full house, and with Ryouko's infamous rice juice being passed around it makes the group of them rowdy, and it makes Megumi remember that despite how demanding Tootsuki is they are still just a bunch of teens who want to have fun.
From where she sits, she can see Takumi challenging Souma again about something inevitably related to cooking, and Kurokiba and Hayama join in the challenge which catches the interest of Yuuki and Satou and Aoki and almost everyone else in the room, because competitiveness at Tootsuki is the norm rather than the outlier.
"He's a popular guy," Hisako comments from where she sits beside Megumi.
"Souma-kun seems to bring a competitive fire out of everyone," she laughs.
Hisako makes an agreeing hum. She watches a flustered Erina as she tries and fails to discourage the others from designating her the judge of their cooking.
"Still," she says, "it's good to have everyone together like this."
"I'm glad you and Erina-san were able to come."
Hisako smiles a little. "I think it's good for Erina-sama to take a break every now and then."
Megumi nods. "Erina-san is very important to Hisako-san."
She looks flustered at that, fidgets with the glass of juice in her hands. "Yes. She is very, very important."
Megumi realizes what she said, and she immediately apologizes, "I'm sorry if that was, um, p-presumptuous of me, or—"
"No, no." Hisako raises a hand to stop her. "I know it's… obvious to most people that I care a lot about Erina-sama."
"You're not obligated to explain it to anyone," Megumi insists.
"But I don't mind right now, really. Maybe it's the rice juice." Hisako laughs. "But also, we're all friends here, I think."
Megumi gives her an encouraging smile.
Hisako takes a breath. "Well, I guess a big part of it is that we're soulmates."
Megumi stares as she registers her words.
"… What?!" she nearly screeches before Hisako claps a hand over her mouth.
"Tadokoro-san!"
"Sorry, sorry!" Megumi apologizes when Hisako drops her hand. "I'm so sorry, I just wasn't expecting it."
"It's alright," Hisako says, embarrassed.
"Not that you and Erina-sama don't seem like you could be soulmates," Megumi adds, which only makes Hisako's blush worsen. "I just mean, how lucky you are to know yours already."
"I didn't know at first," Hisako admits. "I first met Erina-sama when we were very young. I didn't know much about soulmates back then and I don't think she did either. I think all the adults knew about us, though."
"So how did you find out?"
"They pulled me aside and told me eventually. Our sign is a tattoo, you see, like most people." She reaches a hand up to touch the back of her shoulder. "They're wings. Right on our shoulders."
"How beautiful," Megumi says softly, awed and a little emotional.
"The funny thing is," Hisako continues wistfully, "I think I loved her even before I knew."
They're quiet for a moment, a companionable silence while Hisako wanders through her old memories.
Megumi finally asks tentatively, "Did… Did it ever scare you? Loving her before you knew she was your soulmate?"
"At first, yes. But then after time, I thought it didn't really matter." Hisako looks towards Erina again, a fond smile on her face. "Your feelings are real no matter what's tattooed on your skin. I guess I lucked out in the end, but with or without some arbitrary soul bond between us, I will love Erina-sama regardless."
The peaceful look on her face gives Megumi hope.
"Thank you for telling me, Hisako-san," she says.
Hisako blinks at her, then smiles. "It feels kind of nice to tell someone, actually. It's good to be honest with someone."
Honest. Megumi glances over at Souma, where he laughs loudly with their friends.
"It is good," she agrees quietly.
It still isn't easy to shirk the fear that plagues her, but Megumi decides that confronting her feelings is far better than bottling them up and pushing them away. It doesn't mean she's going to talk to Souma about it today or even tomorrow, but hopefully soon.
She's never really been afraid of talking to him before. She shares almost everything with him, has practically bared her soul in the many vulnerable moments they've experienced. Shokugekis, expulsions… They've been through so much together.
But this—this feels infinitely more intimidating than anything else she's done.
Megumi is in the middle of trying to do homework and take her mind off of the current state of her emotions—and failing rather spectacularly at it—when she hears a knock on the open door of her room.
"Hey, Tadokoro."
She looks up from her notebook and finds Souma leaning inside from the hallway. He's wearing his apron.
"You busy?" he asks. "I could use some help with this recipe I'm trying out right now."
"Yeah, sure, I can finish this later." Megumi shuts her notebook, ties her hair back out of her face and into a loose ponytail. Souma grins and leads the way to the kitchen, and Megumi feels so stupidly happy to see his smile that she smiles right back.
"This isn't one of your bad experiments, is it?"
"Now why would you think that?" Souma says, and his smile takes on a menacing edge.
Megumi only rolls her eyes at him and grabs her apron from its hook on the kitchen. "You know perfectly well why. You're taking the first taste after this is over."
"Okay, okay," Souma relents, laughing.
He explains to her what he's trying to make, asks for input on things he's uncertain about, and Megumi does her best to help. She preps what he asks her to, grabs ingredients from the fridge and pantry, washes and cuts vegetables, grinds spices. It all takes a bit longer than she expects; leave it to Souma to attempt an ambitious dish that is probably too much work for two people let alone something he'll ever cook by himself.
But it's fun. Spending this time alone with him and doing what they both love is fun. Megumi's heart feels full and warm, being in his presence.
It all goes well until she accidentally knocks over a precariously placed bottle of soy sauce, and it spills not only onto the floor but also all over Souma's front.
"Oh no!" she gasps. "Souma-kun, I'm so sorry!"
"Aw, it's okay," Souma says easily, grabbing a towel. "Er, we're gonna need a mop."
"Oh dear," Megumi mumbles, holding her cheeks in embarrassment. "I've made such a mess."
"Hey, it was an accident. No big deal. Look, at least the bottle didn't fall on the floor and break." Souma sets the soy sauce bottle back up on the counter, then unties his apron and hangs it on a hook. "Ugh, it soaked through to my sweater."
"Oh no, do you need to go change?"
"Nah, I have a tank underneath, it's fine."
Souma pulls the sweater over his head, and for a second his tank gets caught in his sweater and drags up his torso, revealing his bare stomach. Megumi is so startled and embarrassed she slaps her hands over her eyes.
"What are you doing?"
Megumi peeks through her fingers and sees that his sweater his off and his black tank top is now back on properly. He looks amused.
"N-Nothing," she says, dropping her hands.
"Do you mind wiping the counter while I get the mop?"
"O-Okay."
"Cool, I'll be right back."
Souma turns away to head for the supply closet, and when he does Megumi gets a glimpse of his bare arm.
High on his bicep where she hasn't seen before is a burn scar.
Megumi's mind suddenly jolts with a memory, the sharp pain of a burn on her arm back in her mother's kitchen. A dream pain.
Souma walks away without noticing anything, but she stands paralyzed as her heart begins beating quickly in her chest.
It can't be.
Slowly, still recovering from shock, Megumi grabs a rag and cleans up the mess on the counter, her thoughts flying faster than she can comprehend them.
When Souma returns to the kitchen, mop in tow, and says, "I'm back," she nearly jumps in surprise.
She doesn't say anything to him, not trusting her voice at the moment. Even when the mess is finally cleaned up and they can get back to cooking, she does her tasks quietly and efficiently.
After a few minutes of this, Souma finally asks, "Hey, are you okay?"
"Yes!" she says, with more of a squeak than intended. She grimaces at herself. She takes a breath and tries again. "Yes, I'm fine. I'm—I'm just really sorry for knocking over that bottle."
"It's fine, I promise. You don't have to worry about it."
He turns back to the pot on the stove and Megumi looks down at the cutting board in front of her. She bites her lip, a question poised on the tip of her tongue.
"Souma-kun," she says.
He looks at her.
"Um. I-I'm sorry if this is intruding, but do you mind if I ask how you got that scar on your arm?"
Her beating heart has moved from her chest to her throat as she waits for his response.
"This?" he says, glancing down at his right arm. "Oh, some accident in the kitchen. It was hectic and I was in a hurry and wasn't being as careful as I should have been."
"Oh."
"Yeah, I was a real mess in the kitchen when I was younger." He grins sheepishly. "I got nicks and cuts all over my hands."
"Did you hurt your eyebrow in the kitchen, too?"
"Oh that was from messing around on the playground. Just tripped and ate shit."
Megumi has to laugh at that, covering her mouth with her hand as she giggles. Souma looks pleased and laughs with her.
When the laughter subsides, she thinks for a moment about how she wants to say this. She looks at him, with his wild hair and sharp grin, and she swallows against the affection that threatens to overwhelm her.
"When I was five," she says, "I was helping my mom with some baking when I accidentally cut my finger. At least, I thought I did, but when I looked again the cut had disappeared."
Souma listens quietly, a curious look on his face.
"And when I was ten, I was doing my homework in my room when I felt this pain on my face. It was my eyebrow. I thought I cut it somehow, but when I went to check in the mirror, there wasn't anything there either."
His eyes widen, but Megumi continues.
"And just a few years ago, I was in the kitchen again and I felt this terrible pain on my arm. Like I burned it." She raises a hand to touch her bicep, mirroring where the scar sits on Souma's own arm. "After that, my mom realized what was happening and she explained everything to me."
She takes a deep breath, then looks into Souma's eyes.
"She told me that sometimes soulmates share each other's pain. That someone out there was experiencing all these hurts, and I was bearing it with them. But that also meant that person was bearing my pain, too."
She looks down at her feet and fidgets with the edge of her apron. "I-I guess… I can't say for sure that—that it's you, Souma-kun, but… I just felt like I couldn't go on without asking."
Silence falls over the kitchen and Megumi squeezes her eyes shut, too afraid to look at him.
Souma says, "When I was six, I felt like I had a bruise on my knee even though there was nothing there."
Megumi opens her eyes.
He tilts his head, touches a finger to his chin as he remembers. "And when I was nine, I thought I hurt my wrist out of nowhere, like I sprained it or something. But it went away almost as soon as I felt it."
Her memory brings her back seven years ago, when she was nine years old and sprained her wrist from falling on ice skates.
"And then when I was ten, I thought I cut my palm open. But that went away, too."
At ten, Megumi accidentally sliced her palm trying to peel an apple. She still has a faint scar from it following her heart line.
"And once a month," Souma continues, "I get these terrible stomach cramps. They suck so much."
Megumi laughs. "Yeah, periods suck like that."
"I thought I was going crazy."
"Me too."
"But it was you."
Souma looks at her, and something in his gaze has shifted. His expression is tender, unbearably honest and open. "It was you this whole time."
"And you too," Megumi says weakly. She blinks and realizes her eyes are wet. "Oh." She reaches up to wipe a stray tear from the corner of her eyes.
He moves to her in an instant, hovering over her worriedly. "Tadokoro?"
"I'm okay." She sucks in a breath, and another tear escapes too fast for her to stop. "I just—I'm so glad it's really you." She gives him a watery smile.
He reaches up and wipes away a tear on her cheek with his thumb.
"You're a clumsy one, aren't you?" he says and laughs. "I've been there for every single bump and bruise."
"Oh, like you're one to talk!" she says, batting him on the arm as he continues laughing. "I was worried because you hurt yourself so often!"
"Sorry," he says, still grinning. "It must have been tough for you."
Megumi sniffles, wiping her face with the sleeve of her sweater. She shrugs one shoulder.
"It's okay," she says. "It was worth it."
Souma is quiet for a moment, then he reaches out to take her hands.
"I'm glad it's you, too," he says softly.
He presses his lips against her knuckles.
Megumi's face flushes bright and hot. With tentative hands, she reaches up to touch his face, holding him there so she can just—just look at him. Without feeling any of the shyness or apprehension she used to before she knew he was hers.
Then she says, "Wait."
Souma raises an eyebrow.
"The stew," Megumi says.
"Shit!"
Breaking apart, they rush to the stove, lifting the lid on the pot and scrambling to salvage the stew they've slaved over for the last hour. In the haste of it all, Souma accidentally touches the pot while it's still hot and they both yelp at the sting on their fingers.
Then they laugh, because what a strange and wondrous pair they make. Megumi couldn't imagine anyone else she could be destined for.
The stew ends up fine, fortunately. The commotion and aroma seem to attract the rest of Polar Star, and one by one their dorm mates gather in the kitchen to try their latest creation. Dinner is a loud and bustling affair, with different people offering different improvements to the dish. Megumi doesn't get a moment alone with Souma again until all the dishes have been washed and put away, and on their way back to their rooms she stops him with a hand on his wrist.
When he turns around to look at her, she rises to her toes and kisses his cheek, quick and fleeting. Chaste as it was, she still feels herself blushing.
"Good night, Souma-kun," she says, smiling as she opens the door for her room.
"Hang on," he says, leaning back in.
He kisses her on the mouth.
It is a soft kiss, a shy kiss. Megumi's eyes flutter shut and her hand rests on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath her palm. She leans in to chase his mouth when he pulls away. Her face is definitely bright red right now.
"Good night," he says with a grin before disappearing into his room.
Megumi leans against her bedroom door once she's inside it, then places a hand over her own heart. It beats rapidly just like Souma's. Smiling to herself, she supposes this must be another thing soulmates share.
notes: i am endlessly amused by souma and megumi lying down together moaning about period cramps
thanks for reading!