Or 'Butterfly on your Right Shoulder', but my beta-reader reminded me the song existed well after I'd finished this story. So, oops for that coincidence.
This one was also written for the Negitoro Summer Smash, this time in response to my own prompt: 'Some kind of soulmates AU: Either with tattoos, a watch, any concept goes!' So far, Lindy Whatshername also wrote for this prompt; I highly suggest everybody to go check it out!
The whole concept of a soulmate AU has interested me for a while, and I've long been playing with the various problems it creates, almost writing a full-length sci-fi work to address it all. For now, I condensed some of it into this, teasing some of the questions I'd tackled. If I ever write the full-length work, the story will take place in a vastly different setting, but I'm happy to present this one-shot today.
Many thanks for Kokodoru for the beta-reading and the (real) title brainstorming!
Like with almost all things, the appearance of the tattoo was different for everyone. For some, the marking that would identify their soulmate appeared overnight, unnoticed until morning, or even until someone else might spot it. For others, it happened with an itch, ranging from annoying to borderline maddening, the color and lines appearing in tandem with the reddening skin. Rare unlucky individuals had their tattoos appear as if branded, the skin bubbling and boiling from the burn, with even rarer occurrences sending the poor individual to the emergency room. Because of this variety, people liked to hypothesize that the arrival of the tattoo would also predict the nature of the relationship, and those theories too varied wildly depending on who one would ask. Happy relationships were promised to those who were laughing while their mark appeared, more emotional bonds waited for those who suffered or cried while it was burned onto them, while there was more to be said about those who had experienced something different from their soulmate, whether their marks appeared at the same time or not. Everybody gossiped about it, from well-meaning but concerned parents to excited high schoolers who waited for the day they'd finally get theirs. Even children, who watched the older ones chatter and cheer, drew conclusions based on their own observations. People hoped to have the same experiences as celebrities, their siblings, their parents, their idols. Some dreamed about it for days on end, with high hopes, while others just waited to see what would happen.
Miku was in the latter group, and she wasn't quite sure what it meant if she didn't know when it had arrived, not having noticed anything peculiar over the previous few days, and probably not having spotted it for ages, only catching a glimpse of it by chance as she stepped out of the shower. At first, she had thought that something had fallen on her, stuck to her, but as her hand landed and rubbed at only her skin, she'd understood.
Frustrated, she swiped at the foggy mirror surface to take a better look at her left arm, for there, high up and close to her shoulder, sat a black-and-white marking. She couldn't tell what it was: the lines were too thin and dense to make out from an upside-down perspective, so she glared at the blurry reflection until it made sense.
"A butterfly...?"
She stared, stunned, wiping at the glass whenever the fog would cling to it again.
It felt weird, knowing that it had finally arrived. She hadn't exactly been waiting for it, but as long as she had been without it, the future had been open, with nothing having intervened to control her.
But there it was. Whatever entity there was out there had made the decision for her. Someone out there wore the same butterfly, in the same place, and that person would be her soulmate.
Whatever that really meant was up to them.
Miku gulped, stepping away from the mirror. Now that she knew it was there, it stuck out like a sore thumb.
"I guess this is what my reflection looks like, now..."
She knew that she was not more or less free than before; this was going to happen regardless. Everybody had a soulmate, and that was true before and after the tattoo would appear. But with it visible, there was a certain obligation to find her partner, to seek them out. It was a new thing to keep an eye out for, to ask during introductions, to present in her social circles. She knew her friend Gumi had gone out on the hunt the second hers had appeared, feeling like elastic snapping against her wrist, while others had simply gone on living the way they had always lived. As far as they were concerned, if life insisted so hard on deciding for them who they ought to spend their future with, then it could also put in the effort to place them in the same location.
Miku got dressed, her mind buzzing. Luckily, getting dressed wasn't hard: jeans, grey tank top, shoes. A mindless task. She could continue to think, to ask whether to chase or to wait? She had had over twenty years to choose a side, but she still hadn't made up her mind.
Before she pulled on her jacket, she returned to the bathroom to brush her hair.
Also to look at the new marking. With the fog gone, the details were easier to see, and she observed them for far longer than she had planned to.
Almost seated on the counter, she stared at the marking, pulling at her skin and watching the lines move along.
It was a butterfly, drawn in exquisite detail, but only with thin black lines.
People theorized over the meaning behind the appearance of the tattoo. Whether abstract or concrete pictures meant anything. What about the presence of color, whether color stayed within the lines or not, the size, the location. For most soulmates the location would be the same, but for others, it would be mirrored. Tattoos that were in the middle of the body, like the back or sternum, were rare and held in high esteem, but if anybody asked why, nobody would agree on the reason.
As far as Miku was concerned, the picture was just like a fingerprint. An identifier, purely pragmatic. If people were going to be decorated with a tattoo, then the tattoo had to look like something after all. As for the feelings people got as they appeared, she chalked that up to the natural variety between people. Some people liked some foods, some people liked roller coasters, some people enjoyed massages, some people were ticklish.
There wasn't more to glean from the marking than what it objectively meant; chances were, someone was walking around with exactly the same butterfly, and that person was her soulmate.
She sighed, then brushed her hair, her teeth, got ready to go out for the day. She selected some bracelets to match the color of her shirt, a couple of rings, and maybe a few necklaces too, like her favorite one with the pale shark tooth. Her mind drifted to her jacket, so oversized it was huge, that she wore on a daily basis. When it was hot, it provided shade and protection from the sun. When it was cold, it was another layer to bundle up in. She could fold it into a makeshift bag if needed, if the extra pockets weren't deep enough. She brought it everywhere, any time of day or year.
It was her thing. Except was also common courtesy to display one's tattoo as long as their soulmate hadn't been found. With that jacket, it would be nigh impossible.
"I'm not going to hunt them," Miku mumbled, tying it around her waist. "But I'm not going to try to delay the inevitable, either."
With that, she shouldered her bag and stepped out of her room.
"Good morning!" her mother called from the kitchen as she stepped down the stairs.
She dropped her bag by the front door. "Morning."
"Morning kiddo!" her father said, his voice coming from the kitchen as well.
She joined her parents, stopping in the doorframe; they were busy making a pie together. While he rolled out the dough, sleeves rolled up above his elbows, trained hands spreading flour as needed, she worked on the filling, wringing a cloth filled with a jam of some kind above a jar. He was taller than them both, while her mother was about as tall as she was. His hair was a deep blue, hers was a pale green. He was broad, shoulders so wide he barely fit through some doors, while she was thin as a wire. The only thing they had in common was their tattoos: it started in the left palm, stretched up the arm, curled around the neck, and ended under the right side of their jaw. A massive piece of multicolored lines, interspersed with splotches of bright hues, there was no distinct picture to be found. But the pair agreed that it symbolized the food they made together, the flavor they brought into life, the sensory explorations they went on, hand in hand. And baking together was their thing; they baked all day, both as their job and as their hobby, and they were absurdly good at it.
While Miku hadn't ever cared for more than the delicious treats they concocted, she realized she'd always expected her tattoo to look a bit like theirs'. She looked exactly like the combined image of them after all, with her hair color being a mix of theirs, her frame reminiscent of them both. Or that it might at least be more telling of her passion for music, or might say something about her as a person.
Seeing them with their tattoos, a perfect representation of who they were and of their bond, made her little butterfly feel so random.
"You're a little late kiddo, so we decided to get a head start. What will it be this morning? Tea or coffee?" he asked, rubbing his hands together to get rid of the flour. It flew everywhere in a small cloud, but Miku was staring at his tattoo; theirs both danced over their arms as they worked. She saw it as her mother wrung at the cloth.
"I think coffee, for today," she ended up answering. "I, euh, I got my tattoo."
They both paused then, eyes wide. He grinned first.
"No way, today?"
"Not sure," she said, standing at an angle so that they could both see the butterfly. "I don't know when I got it. I didn't feel a thing, never noticed it until earlier."
"Oh, it's stunning," her mother whispered. While she quickly rinsed her hands under the sink, he approached, tracing the lines with his fingers.
"It is very beautiful," he said, his voice soft. "I think you have a beautiful future ahead of you."
She smirked. "Maybe. It's only black, though."
"Oh, that doesn't say much," her mother said, joining her soulmate to admire the marking. "Black is a bold, strong color. It matches with everything. You can never go wrong with black."
"I guess that's true."
"Ha, when I got our tattoo, I had to throw out so many shirts," he said with a grin. "Nothing pairs with all these colors at once."
"Except black," she said.
He nodded. "Except black. Or white, but white stains so easily."
Miku's smirk sank. She cleared her throat, muttering, "I'm late."
"Ah yes, we have already packed you lunch. And here, take your coffee to go," her father said, already pouring the drink into a thermos.
Her mother handed her the lunch, asking, "Did you tell your friends?"
"Not yet, I'll be seeing them before class, so I can tell them in person then."
She chuckled. "Oh, I remember that day like it was yesterday. I had the biggest tattoo of us all..."
"All of my friends said it looked like I'd had paint dropped on me," he muttered, handing her the thermos.
"But such a memorable day. Do you want to tell the rest of the family? Or should we?"
"You can tell them."
"Alright, dear. Have a nice day!"
"And make sure people can see that!" he said, running his finger over the tattoo once more. "Unless you don't want to find them right away...?"
"Oh, I don't care, really. It's pretty, I guess."
"It's gorgeous."
"Display it proudly, kiddo!"
"Yeah, will do. I'll be home for dinner!"
They waved her out the door, and after stuffing her lunch into her bag, she started her brisk walk to school.
'With pride', he'd said. Inherently, there was nothing to really be proud of. This day came to everybody. Everybody got one. And the worth of the picture had nothing to do with size or color, at least not objectively.
But she smiled as she ran her own hand over the tattoo, then looked at it. She could now better recognize it from an upside-down perspective, and she had to admit; in its simplicity, it was pretty. And she wouldn't have to worry too much about pairing it with her clothes or changing her wardrobe to display it.
It was a simple, easy tattoo. Pragmatic, a little like herself. It matched the nests of bracelets and necklaces she wore, paired with every shirt she had.
She chuckled, relieved that at least it did speak to her to some degree. Perhaps it spoke to her soulmate as well? Maybe their favorite animal was the butterfly. Or maybe they were often compared to one, light and beautiful.
She wasn't sure. There was no evidence behind the tattoo's appearance having any kind of relationship to the person who had it. Perhaps she'd been looking for a reason to connect to it; it was on her permanently, after all. Maybe bonding with it was a coping mechanism, to make this unasked for modification easier to swallow.
Either way, she decided she liked it well enough. With that done, she uncapped the thermos and sipped her coffee, preferring to think about the lectures she'd have that day. Musical History to start the morning, then the Poetry and Politics class she'd begrudgingly signed up for to get the credits. In the afternoon was musical workshop, her favorite class; she'd already prepared a few sound snippets and presets to play with later.
"How dare you!"
Miku narrowly dodged a handbag that had been aimed right for her head.
"What the f—"
"You take off that drawing right now!" some woman yelled at her, already preparing another swing with her bag. Miku quickly capped her thermos, stepping back from the woman who had snuck up on her from behind.
"Who the fuck are you?!" she asked, shaking some coffee that had fallen on her hand. "Drawing...?"
"I know that isn't a real tattoo!" the woman screamed, pointing a finger at the mark on her shoulder. "I know that for a fact, so you erase that right this instant!"
Miku's eyes darted between the woman and her new, apparently offensive, tattoo. She was taller than the tealette, dressed in expensive clothes, their brand displayed proudly, her hair white as snow and professionally braided. Her own tattoo sat under her eye, a series of dots and lines in bright, cool colors, starting at the bridge of her nose and disappearing into her hairline near her ear. But Miku was more concerned with her glare, hot and angry, directed at the black butterfly.
"What's your problem?!" she spat, feeling dozens of eyes rest on them.
"My problem is that forged stain on your arm! I know my niece cannot and will not be destined to be the soulmate of a ruffian like you, so you better erase that doodle right this instant!" She huffed, then turned her nose up and away from the tealette. "It's a terribly poor copy anyway. An embarrassment."
Miku gulped, untied her jacket from her waist. "I lost a dare."
"I would sure hope so!"
"I'll erase it this evening."
"Good. Don't you even think about walking around with that thing in public again."
"Yeah yeah, lady. Whatever."
She huffed and turned away, heading in the opposite direction Miku was heading. As she left, the crowd thinned, the onlookers pretending they hadn't stopped to stare.
Miku shouldered her bag after putting her jacket on, a wicked knot tied in her belly.
Either the lady was crazy and she was sorely mistaken, or she was destined to have a crazy aunt-in-law.
She groaned and set off for her school again. It wasn't far, nor was it a big establishment; the specialized music school had a small student list, a smaller list of teachers, and a very big pile of applications every year. They were selective, though for a good reason: those who graduated usually found a successful career in the music world, in one way or another. Miku had always dreamed of attending, having played with sounds for as long as she could remember, and the moment when she had been accepted had been a highlight of her life.
The small campus —essentially one building— had a matching garden in front of it, and there she found her friends.
"Morning!" Rin called out, waving to her once she saw the tealette from across the street. "You're late!"
"Sorry," Miku mumbled. She hugged Gumi, then Rin, before stepping back and heaving a sigh. "I had quite the day already."
"What happened?" Gumi asked. Her best friend, and the tallest of the trio, the green-haired girl was the oldest as well as the first one of them to get her tattoo. It sat proudly on her right wrist, in the shape of long thin lines, like a bracelet. It was small and subtle, and she blamed its similarity to a real bracelet for the fact that she still hadn't found her soulmate, even though it had already been almost a year.
"Well, I got assaulted on my way here," the tealette grumbled.
"You're kidding."
Rin, the youngest of the group, had somehow gotten her mark before Miku. But the blonde also had trouble finding her soulmate; her mark sat squarely in the middle of her back, so unless she spent her whole day at the beach, she had to forgo her favorite shirts for crop tops or deep back shirts. But she refused to do that, stubbornly waiting for the warm season to show off her tattoo, a beautiful purple starscape framed by her shoulder blades and ribs.
"Why would anybody do that?"
"Well, she saw me walking around with this, and decided she didn't like it," Miku said, pulling down the top of the jacket to reveal her upper shoulder.
"By the Fates," Gumi gasped. "You finally have yours!"
"Since when?!" Rin asked.
"I don't know."
"You didn't have it yesterday..."
"She was wearing her jacket all day, like she always does," the blonde said. "Man, do you never look in the reflection or something?"
The tealette shrugged.
"Hm, you didn't even feel it when it arrived, did you?" Gumi mumbled. "That's a bad sign."
"So is the color."
"No, no, black is good. It's solid. But the size..."
Miku rolled her eyes. "None of those things mean anything."
"Oh, I know," Rin said with a wink. "But it's fun to play along."
Gumi scoffed. "It's ok to think that these things mean something."
"Is it, though?" Rin countered, elbowing her. "It sucks to tell your friend 'Oooh, you're destined to be with a soulmate who never cuts his toenails!'"
"I think they're a 'she'."
At that, both friends went silent. "Woa, how do you know already?"
"You saw her?"
"No, but the lady who assaulted me said that her niece deserved better than me, or something like that," Miku mumbled, covering her tattoo again.
"Oh man."
"You think she might have gotten it wrong?" Gumi asked, pulling at her jacket to look at it again.
"I don't know, it's pretty distinctive," Rin said.
"But so small."
"It's really clear though. And it's not so small, it's as big as my hand."
"You have tiny hands."
Miku rolled her eyes again. "It doesn't look familiar to either of you, does it?"
"No, I don't think it does," Gumi answered.
"Yeah, never seen one quite like it before."
After studying it for a bit longer, Gumi released the jacket, allowing the tealette to put it on properly.
"So you're hiding it?"
"Well, she was gonna beat me up," Miku said. "Or she looked like she'd give it an honest try."
"Is she here, though?"
"No. But come on, we're going to be late."
As the trio set in motion, Rin asked, "You really think she'd beat you up?"
"I bet you can take, like 95% of women out there in a fight."
"I don't plan to, though," Miku said, lowering her voice as they entered the building.
"You do look like you could," the blonde pointed out. "If she was threatening you, she must have been mad!"
"She didn't just threaten me. Launched her bag right at my head."
"Jeez! She must have been furious!"
"I wonder who her niece could be..." Gumi mumbled. "What did she look like?"
"It doesn't matter."
They entered the classroom; Miku called them lectures, but with fewer than one hundred students in the building at any given point in time, it really felt like a regular old class. With only ten classmates and one expert in the room, talking about history or methods or just chatting about stuff, as long as it was on-topic, was both densely informative and relaxed, exactly the kind of place where Miku learned best.
The trio settled in their usual seats in silence. As the rest of the class trickled in, Rin quietly scooted towards the other two.
"You don't want your soulmate to be a woman or something?"
"I don't care. I don't really control it anyway. No point in wanting or trying to change it."
"I mean, still. There are certain perks to having a soulmate who is the same as you, but some cons, too."
Gumi whispered, "It's ok to be a bit disappointed."
Miku shrugged. "I don't know. I really wanted a family at some point."
Both of her friends nodded slowly at that. "Yeah."
"The bitchy aunt-in-law would suck too."
"That's presuming if you two would want to get married," Gumi said. "Maybe you're not going to be romantic soulmates at all, you know."
"Yeah, maybe you're fated to be the bestest of pals and you'll find love and family in someone else."
"And she'll be, like, the person you rely on the most in case things get tough."
"Yeah, you'll be complaining to her about your husband not cutting his toenails!"
Miku chuckled at that. "Maybe."
"I know it's also, like, seriously idealized to have a romantic soulmate. You know, destined to be in love, all that. But that's not for everyone either."
"I know."
"So—"
"Listen. Until I see the mark on them myself, I don't know who it will be for sure. And until I meet them, I don't know what kind of soulmates we are. So... There's no point in theorizing. We all know this. I'll find out when the day comes. Right now, I just want to focus on class."
Gumi and Rin shuffled uncomfortably, taking their things out of their bags. The others in the room filled the space with a gentle murmur of conversation, which the trio didn't partake in. When the teacher entered, closing the door behind him, Gumi put a hand on Miku's arm.
"Listen... We know you. But we also know what it's like. We've all sat through the classes and heard the theories, and we've all adopted our own mentalities towards this stuff. But we also know that everything always changes a bit when it finally happens. It's scary. And having, then finding, a soulmate always involves way more people than you'd expect. So, if you want to talk about it at some point, we're here."
Miku nodded, not glancing in her direction. When Gumi pulled back her hand, though, the tealette grabbed at it, and throughout the whole lesson, she didn't let it go.
"Ok, lunch time, you have ninety minutes to vent all your confusions and frustrations, go!"
Miku laughed, sitting against the tree in front of the school building. But her mirth was half-hearted, and Rin and Gumi could tell; they sat at her sides, ready to support her.
"Who did you guys talk to about this stuff?"
"My parents, mostly," Gumi said. "And some extended family. Almost none of them are romantic soulmates, so I had a lot of different kinds of soulmates to talk to."
"Same, though I also looked things up online. I even talked to my GP about it."
Miku sat up. "Your doctor?"
"Yeah. We spoke during a routine checkup, and honestly, it was worth it. The internet is full of nonsense, and he gave me tons of numbers to call and things to read. It helped a lot."
"Huh..."
"Your parents are romantic soulmates, aren't they?" Gumi asked.
"The most romantic, in every sense of the word," Miku said with a sigh. "I think I always wanted something like they have."
Rin grinned. "Hey, that's still possible. Maybe your soulmate is a schoolmate of ours."
"Or maybe she's already famous."
The blonde quickly whispered, "They."
"I mean they."
Miku sighed, then sat up. "I don't mind having a woman as a soulmate too much, you know."
"You seemed pretty bummed out about it earlier."
"Yeah, but that was more about..." She huffed. "You're right. There are pros and cons."
"And either way, there's no way to know what the future holds for sure."
"Yeah. I guess it just kind of sucks thinking that the lady from this morning might be involved."
Gumi unpacked her lunch slowly, saying, "A lot of my family members had things like that. Turns out, even if you hold tattoos side-by-side, denial will always be strong enough to make some people really stubbornly deny you're soulmates."
"But why, though? What's the point in that?"
Rin laughed. "You're too pragmatic."
"Why did the lady attack you again?"
"I'm too much of a rascal or something. A ruffian."
"See? You don't fit whatever image she had in her mind as a perfect match for her dear niece. But even if you did fit that image, maybe someone else will insist you two don't get married and just stay friends or something. People will always try to control this stuff."
Miku pondered her words for a moment, before pulling out her own lunch. A sandwich on homemade bread, tomato, and lettuce from the garden, with the best ham they could get.
One of her favorites, but she just stared at it.
"Am I a ruffian?"
Rin laughed. "Fates, you're all tough-looking, but you're really a softie, aren't you?"
The tealette frowned. "I look tough."
"You're certainly not the least intimidating person in any given room," Gumi conceded, carefully setting aside a slice of carrot cake. "You have your dad's presence."
"You're also really cool, too."
"But that's kind of always been your look."
"This lady didn't approve of me, though."
"So? It's not like she's your soulmate—" Rin's eyes went wide. "Was she?"
"Nah, her tattoo was on her face," Miku said, vaguely gesturing the location on her own.
"Oh thank the Fates."
"But what do you care about her opinion?"
"She's related to someone who might be my soulmate," Miku muttered weakly, setting the sandwich aside. "And if they're related, maybe they share views on some things. I just..."
Even though she trailed off, her unspoken words weighed down on the trio.
"I guess there really is nothing worse than being pushed away by your soulmate," Rin conceded.
"It doesn't happen often," Gumi quickly said, a little louder than necessary. "Most people have the presence of mind to realize that they're soulmates for a reason, so even if they're confronted with their prejudices, eventually they'll see past them."
"Usually, they do," Rin added.
They had all heard the stories. Famous figures in history, their tragedies told from generation to generation. The suffering they felt when they learned that their soulmates avoided them, the pain when they were actively pushed back, repulsed. There were as many reasons to do that as there were people: differences in ancestry, wealth, or perhaps the presence of family feuds, personal spats. The fact that marks appeared in adulthood meant that much could happen during childhood, when those involved hadn't yet grown into the people they were meant to be, but could already commit acts others would deem unforgivable. Some theorized that whatever power that was who assigned the tattoos might hope for redemption, forgiveness, or growth, but when soulmates were denied, there was only suffering. Soulmates that mutually repulsed one another didn't go much better either. Fortunately, it did happen rarely.
But it happened.
"I really doubt that anybody would let your wardrobe stop them from accepting you're soulmates," Gumi whispered, uncapping a bottle of water. "Sure, maybe they'd want a more femme lady or a manly man but being a bit androgynous really shouldn't be a deal-breaker. Not everybody is as pragmatic as you, but I'm sure that most people can put childish dreams to rest."
"She's right," Rin said. "I consciously know that I have some hopes and dreams, but I also know that, by most odds, they won't come true."
"A soulmate is just the person who suits you the most. And that depends entirely on what you both want out of life. And from each other."
Miku sighed. "That's true."
"I know it's been asked, but how did she look anyway? This assaulter of yours?"
"Oh, you know, rich. Wore big brands, carried a big bag."
Gumi pulled out her phone. "Ok. But what did she look like?"
"Hm, tallish? White hair, maybe forty, fifty years old?"
"And her tattoo?"
"A bunch of bluish lines and dots under her eye, all sat in a row from nose to ear."
Gumi typed a bit, scrolled while drinking water, then stopped, almost choking. "By the Fates..."
"What?"
"Is this her?"
She tapped on the screen a bit before holding up the phone for Miku to see. Sure enough, there she was, though instead of a disdainful scowl, she was prideful, looking right into the camera, the picture a professional portrait with flawless lighting and impeccable composition.
"That's her."
"Show!" Rin clambered over to see, then whistled. "Damn, she's probably famous for some reason."
"Yeah, she's only Victoria Megurine," Gumi said, enunciating every syllable carefully.
Miku thought for a second. "I... I don't know who that is."
"Same," Rin admitted.
Gumi typed some more on her phone, all while explaining, "My uncle works in farms, you know? Agriculture and stuff. He feeds almost 15% of the city on a yearly basis all on his own. How does he do it? Heavy machinery. Where does he get them? Megurine industries."
"So, they make farming equipment?"
Gumi shook her head, now scrolling. "No. They started in boats. Fishing boats, really. Then they got to land. They don't make planes, but they're specialized in big motors, heavy equipment, engineering, moving parts. They're the biggest name in the industry."
"How do you know all this?" Rin asked.
"Only 'cause their name is plastered on the side of every vehicle my uncle uses. I'm pretty sure I saw their name more often than my own."
Miku, stunned, could only utter a weak, "Huh."
"They say that it's part of Fate, that they're into moving stuff. Apparently, their name translates to something in an old language, something about traveling the world, but I don't know too much about that legend. But they sit on top of it all the time, saying that they're favored by the Fates themselves in their industry."
"Alright, that's all great, but what does the niece look like?"
Gumi shook her head. "I can't get a good picture."
"Do you have a picture though?"
"Yeah, but..."
Gumi relented and showed the screen to the two others. While there was no face or any other identifying feature, there was a crystal-clear photo of an upper arm: there, close to the shoulder, sat a beautiful butterfly etched into the skin.
"The crazy bitch was right, that's your soulmate!" Rin exclaimed, her voice hushed.
"Is it really a match?" Miku asked.
"Here, I'll hold the phone, Rin, you take the picture."
The blonde fumbled for her phone while Gumi placed her screen next to Miku's arm, so that the two marks sat side-by-side. Seconds later, Rin showed them both the photo: the tattoo on Miku's shoulder and the one on the screen were perfectly identical.
"By the Fates..."
"No wonder she went ballistic, really," Gumi said. "This photo is from an article, which was published two days ago: they released this photo of the tattoo in hopes of finding her soulmate."
"Oh man..." Rin mumbled. "So either she realized you had no idea and didn't want anybody else to connect the dots, or she thought you'd seen the picture and wanted to play a prank for fifteen minutes of fame."
"Yeah."
Gumi chuckled weakly. "Little does she know, you actually are her soulmate, and you know it now."
"And technically, we found her soulmate, right? Is there a reward?"
"No. Just a number to call and to reach out."
"Dang it."
"Who is the niece though?" Miku asked, her mouth dry.
"They won't say. But it shouldn't be too hard to figure out..."
Miku sat back against the tree. "My soulmate is famous?"
"Maybe not as much famous as she is a member of an immensely old and influential family."
The tealette inhaled deeply, held it, then exhaled. "Huh..."
"I'm sure they're used to members of their line marrying normal people," Gumi said, her tone neutral and relaxed. "I mean, it's a big family, and they've been around for generations. From what I can tell, they actively marry or stay close with their soulmates: there's no indication of any kind of drama."
"But the lady... Victoria?"
"She's just a bit crazy, I think," Gumi went on. "She was born wealthy herself, married into the family, and their kid is some crazy successful researcher. But her husband and his two brothers are part of the main lineage, and they seem sensible enough."
"Where does her soulmate connect into it?" Rin asked.
"Well, if she's really a direct niece of Victoria, then she's probably a daughter of one of the three brothers. We can already eliminate Victoria and her husband, which leaves the two other pairs... All brothers married their soulmates; they kind of have this running streak of having romantic bonds."
Miku breathed more than she spoke, "Oh, wow."
"It's still a big family, though. She might have said 'niece' instead of saying 'third niece seven times removed', you know. But if I look at the family tree, see who is about our age..."
"I'm not sure I want to know."
The blonde frowned. "Huh? Why not?"
"I mean..." The tealette sat straight, her stare empty. "I think I'd rather call and see who it is for sure, rather than speculate and risk you finding the wrong one."
"Ah, I guess that's fair."
"That sounds good, and easier for me," Gumi said. "If it's reassuring, they all look to be pretty decent people."
"Even though they're super rich?" Rin sneered.
"I'm not even sure how rich they are," Gumi said with a shrug. "And with all their partners that married into the family, they're exposed to diverse mentalities. Most of their income is donated. I heard my uncle say at some point that he doesn't even have to pay for repairs on his vehicles: it's all on them."
"Ok, fine, maybe they're ok," Rin said. "Odds are they'll be happy to welcome the bakers' daughter."
"Honestly, I think they will be. You want their number?"
Miku took a moment to realize that Gumi had asked her the question, only to nod dumbly. After another second, she mumbled, "And send me that picture Rin, please. I might need it."
She did need it. After talking about the situation with her parents, who helped with her greater concerns, they encouraged her to call the number that same evening; might as well get it over with, after all. It would wait only on her, and as long as she was the one holding things up, it would only weigh heavier and heavier on her shoulders. And no matter what she would find moving forward, they would stand by her side, through thick and thin, which would definitely include crazy aunts-in-law.
So she called, only to be greeted by a tired voice who had no doubt spoken to hundreds of people already, and who seriously doubted that this time it would be for real. After some insisting, assuring them that she had photographic proof, and answering numerous questions to confirm her identity, she eventually convinced the other that she was at least serious, if not legitimate. She was then invited to send the picture to another number, which she did the moment she hung up the phone.
After that, she got no reply that evening. Her parents had cooked her favorite dinner to celebrate the appearance of her tattoo, and she called with her own relatives to chat about the new step in life, asking some advice from an aunt who lived with, but wasn't married to, her soulmate, and a cousin who had spent years searching but had yet to find theirs.
She checked for replies from the mysterious number before bed, then went to sleep.
Early the following morning, she woke up for class, only to find an invitation on her phone: an address, a time bracket, and a visitor's pass to print. She quickly forwarded it to Gumi, who had a printer, and who gave her the sheet when they met for class later in the morning.
"So, you're going to..."
"It looks like it's the seat of Megurine Industries," Miku said.
"Man, you're going to meet the presidents, I'm sure of it," Rin said.
"Make sure you bring an I.D." Gumi told her.
"And that you wear something with no sleeves."
"That won't be hard," the tealette muttered, folding the visitor pass so it would fit in her wallet. "...Do you guys think I should dress up?"
"What? No! Be yourself. What if you meet your soulmate there?"
"First impressions should be good impressions," the tealette said.
"I'd rather they be honest, at least for meeting your soulmate," Gumi said. "I'm siding with Rin on this one. Go right after class. If you swing home, just drop off your bags, maybe freshen up a bit, but don't put on a suit or anything."
Miku pondered the question all day, only to end up agreeing: she went home to drop off her stuff, put on a clean shirt, then headed right back out, her driver's license and the visitor's pass burning a hole in her pocket.
The building was in the middle of the city. It was among the tallest skyscrapers, all polished glass and shiny metal. While part of her had expected a silver-themed interior, considering the aunt's snow-white hair, the sleek pale exterior of the building, and her guess that most machines were made of shiny metal, the inside was actually warmly decorated, the ceilings and much of the walls being a rich cream, while the floors, surfaces, and many doors were likely made with an expensive dark wood. Golden accents dotted the place: the lampshades, railings, handles. Huge screens dotted the walls, showing off their latest designs, new factory plans, and the benefits collaborators had. Employees got lots of free time and rich pay, while users of their technology wouldn't have to pay for repairs, among others. In the corners and between furniture, the couches and coffee tables Miku wasn't sure people used at all, not in such a lobby, there were miniature models of their milestone developments: their fastest or strongest boats, their record-breaking machines, their most efficient engines.
It was all so much to see and to behold that Miku, in her oversized jacket, tank top, and jeans, forgot she stuck out like a sore thumb. But she had just enough presence of mind to remember that she was there for a reason, so with slow steps she approached the counter, where a few people were seated. They had sleek headphones on, worked behind paper-thin computer monitors, and were dressed in surprisingly casual clothing; the nametag they wore over their heart was the clearest indicator that they worked there.
The one in the middle stood as the tealette approached.
"Welcome," she said, and her voice immediately captured Miku's attention. "How can I help you?"
Miku felt her breath catch in her throat: it wasn't rare that she found people around her particularly beautiful, but this woman was drop-dead stunning. She didn't know what it was in particular; was it because she was so tall, was it the long pink locks that tumbled like water over her shoulders, the eyes that were like portals to an open sky, the timbre of her voice, deep and rich? Or was it the smile, as simple as that?
Perhaps it was a combination of all those things. She couldn't help it, letting her eyes trail to the woman's left shoulder; it would be easy to see something, anything, given the cut of her dress, but there was nothing there. She checked the right side to be sure, but found it to be just as bare. In fact, she didn't look like she had her tattoo yet; there were no marks on her face, neck, or her collarbone. Her arms were also void of any color, line, or drawing.
Miku shook her head to clear her mind, and pulled her visitor's pass from her wallet, alongside her I.D.
"I'm here to see someone around now, but I admit I'm not sure who."
This was enough to gather the attention of the other receptionists: they looked up, confused, but returned dutifully to their respective tasks. The woman in front of her, whose name tag read 'Luka', accepted the invite with a puzzled frown. After checking her identity, she slid the card back in her direction, then she dialed a number on her computer.
Miku watched her move, trying her best not to stare. Granted, there were many other things in the room to look at. Cool things, too, even if none of the engineering marvels pertained to song or sound. But she couldn't quite get her eyes off the receptionist and had to force herself to not listen to her voice, lest she inadvertently listen in on the conversation.
"I understand," she finally said, and Miku stopped pretending to be engrossed in the promotional clip playing on the nearest screen when she put down her headset. "I'll lead you to your meeting! Right this way."
"Oh, uhm—"
Miku swallowed a protest. She was good with directions, but considering the size of the building and the people she thought she might meet, perhaps having a guide was a good idea.
She followed Luka down the hall to the elevators, where one was already waiting. As they stepped in, Miku couldn't help but show her surprise when the topmost floor was selected.
"Huh. I guess I'm meeting with someone important," she muttered.
"One of the current leaders of the company, yes. Ivan Megurine. Have you met him?"
Miku took a second to sear the name into her memory: a likely father-in-law, or at least uncle. She gulped. "No."
"Do you know the reason for your visit?"
Miku glanced at the taller woman. She was so beautiful, especially in the gentle elevator light. The colors suited her so well.
The tealette cleared her throat, averted her eyes. "I'm not sure I'm allowed to say."
Luka nodded. "I understand."
Perhaps a lot of secretive meetings happened all the time; she didn't look too surprised. Moments later, the elevator came to a stop, the doors opening to a much smaller space: there was a reception area and a set of double doors. The receptionist there stood and greeted them.
"Ms. Hatsune?"
"Yes?"
"Mr. Megurine is ready to see you, you may go in."
Luka nodded, already turning around, but then the receptionist said, "He would like you to come in too, Luka."
Miku raised a brow; she had noticed that all of the staff thus far had only their given names on their name tags, but surely they would know each other's names? Or was it a jab from a higher-posted receptionist to the doorman?
She frowned, uncertain what to think. Luka also looked surprised, but it was impossible to tell whether it was due to the invitation or the way she was addressed.
"Ah, very well."
"After you," Miku mumbled.
Luka opened her mouth to protest, but she led the way nonetheless, pushing open one of the double doors.
The office was luxurious. A huge u-shaped desk, designed to seat at least five people, sat in the middle, surrounded by huge bookshelves filled not only with books, but binders, stacks of paper bound by twine, folders of all sorts. At each end of the bookshelves, which partially encircled the desk, sat more models of the company's achievements, another boat and a truck that looked like it would be massive in real life. Then, there were windows, the view of the city around them absolutely breathtaking, especially in the fair weather. Behind the newcomers, the last wall bore portraits of several family members surrounding the doors. They wore stern expressions, expensive clothes, their features energetic and youthful, their hair almost all white as snow.
Behind the desk sat a man in the flesh, also youthful, in an expensive suit, his hair alabaster. But his expression wasn't stern; he smiled at the newcomers, standing to greet them. To Miku's surprise, he wasn't alone, for at his side stood a woman, her hair a deep ruby red.
"Welcome, Ms. Hatsune!" he said, the duo stepping around the desk to shake her hand. She shook as best as she could, but she was caught off guard by the warmth of the greeting. "I'm Ivan Megurine."
"Nice to meet you," she managed, keeping the stutter out of her voice.
"And I am Cul," said the woman, and as they shook hands, Miku saw her tattoo; a large white crocodile slithered from her shoulder, around her arm, down to her wrist, the eyes red as blood. She glanced at Ivan, but his suit didn't reveal his arm.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance," she mumbled, quickly casting a glance at Luka. They didn't greet her, and she stood a bit to the side, watching the exchange unfold.
"Now, you sent us a rather convincing photo," Ivan said, hands on his hips. Despite the posture, he was all smiles, his blue eyes practically gleaming.
"Oh, you mean my tattoo."
"Yes. Could we please see it?"
Miku glanced at Luka once again before she pulled down the front of her jacket, showing them the black butterfly. Cul approached first, hands up.
"May I?"
"Oh yeah, sure."
The woman carefully traced the lines of the tattoo, before pulling out an alcohol wipe. It was cold against her skin, and she rubbed somewhat harshly, but Miku figured that she couldn't blame them.
"Is it real?" Ivan asked, excitement audible in his voice.
"It looks like it is," his partner replied.
"I thought it was the wrong shoulder."
"It's not so rare that the sides are mirrored," Cul said with a grin. "This is real. She is real."
Ivan laughed, clapped his hands together, then turned to Luka, who had gone wide-eyed.
"Well, congratulations! I'd love to introduce you both to your soulmate!"
Miku let her jaw drop. "Wh— We're...?"
Luka, still stunned, then pulled up a sleeve of sorts that perfectly matched her skin tone. It had gone all the way down to her elbow, the seam invisible, and Miku could only stare as her own black butterfly was revealed, a spitting image of her own.
"By the Fates, I..."
"I told you addressing the population would work!" Ivan cheered. "It hasn't even been a week!"
Miku blushed, suddenly feeling how huge her jacket was, how her tank top hugged her torso, how old her jeans were. Luka was blushing too, her hand still holding up the skin-colored sleeve. She was so beautiful in her dress, like royalty.
"Man, if I'd known," Miku mumbled, stepping towards her. "Sorry, I had wanted to introduce myself properly when we met. I'm Miku Hatsune."
She held out her hand, feeling a bit silly, but Luka smiled and shook it.
"Luka Megurine."
"Ha! Sorry for the slight deception, ladies. I wanted to be sure before I sorely disappointed either of you."
"I understand," Luka said, her smile still very present.
"I don't think I could put it past you," Miku mumbled.
Cul chuckled. "I did believe it was you when we spoke on the phone."
The tealette turned to face the redhead. "That was you?"
She nodded. "Out of everybody who called, you were the only one who sounded like she was under some obligation. You clearly weren't having any fun with it."
Miku sighed; their conversation had been grueling, and not exactly an ideal first exchange she had wanted to have with a potential mother-in-law. "I'll admit, that was effective. Who... Who got the photo?"
"Oh, that was my number," Ivan said, holding up his own phone.
"A photo?" Luka asked.
"Oh, it's just our tattoos side by side," Miku said, already pulling out her own. "I have it here..."
Luka grinned when she brought up the photo. "Oh wow."
"My friends figured out about the whole, uh, addressing the population thing. I had no idea."
"Well, it still worked!" Ivan proudly declared.
"It did, dear."
Luka studied the photo for a moment, before glancing at the tealette. "May I see it?"
Miku gulped. "Sure."
Before getting closer, the taller woman fully pulled off the sleeve, letting Miku study her tattoo in turn. It was a little odd, since the locations were mirrored, but from so close, there was no doubt about it: they were the exact same.
"We'll let you two talk for a little bit, if you'd like," Ivan said, almost being physically pulled out of the office by Cul. "We'll send up tea, stay as long as you like!"
"I—"
"You have the rest of the afternoon off, dear," Cul said. "And to you, Miku, this office is under video surveillance."
The tealette felt the blush climb to her ears. "I wouldn't have presumed otherwise."
Ivan said, "Alright, see you later! We expect you home for dinner, Luka!"
With that, the door to the office closed, leaving the two women alone.
Miku cleared her throat. "You work as a receptionist for your parents?"
"Oh, they had always wanted me to get some real-world work experience, so I don't take the life I have for granted," Luka explained. She chuckled, adding, "Though I must admit that I think that my father might have a skewed idea of what real-world work experience would be; I've heard from my coworkers that other places are far worse."
"Well, that's also a way to learn," Miku said. "Uhm, quick question."
"Yes?"
"Do you have an aunt called Victoria?"
"Of course."
"How do you feel about her?"
"Well, she is family."
Miku laughed at the unconvinced tone. "Oh, ok."
"Why? Do you know her?"
"Long story short, the only reason my friends and I figured all this out is because she assaulted me in the street."
Luka gasped. "Oh dear. She saw your tattoo, I'm guessing?"
"Yeah. Said you deserved better than a ruffian like me. Which got me curious, since clearly she knew someone with the same tattoo."
Luka chuckled. "I see. Perhaps we shouldn't tell her that we met thanks to her, then."
"Maybe. We might have met sooner or later without her help, anyway."
"Perhaps."
They stood there for a moment in silence, Miku's eyes focused on that tattoo. There was the whole city landscape behind the taller woman, an office full of company secrets, beautiful models to behold, but she couldn't stop staring at the simple butterfly.
"Ok, so, if we're going to be soulmates, I guess I might as well be honest," she blurted, unable to meet her eyes. "When I saw you, I thought you were the prettiest woman I'd ever seen in my whole life, and I really hoped it would be you."
Luka didn't chuckle or laugh, merely raising a hand to touch the tattoo.
"I felt the same."
"Seriously?"
She nodded, looking her straight in the eye. "I love your jacket."
"Want to try it on?"
"You wouldn't mind?"
Miku's only reply was to shrug her jacket off, offering it to the other woman. It fit Luka marginally better, and she snuggled into its depths as Miku so often had. Only a second later, she opened her eyes to look at the tattoo, then back up at the tealette, and she smiled.
"Tell me about yourself," she whispered.
"I wouldn't know where to start."
"Somewhere, anywhere." After a moment, she said, "Where did you get this jacket?"
"Oh! That's a good one. Let's see." She cleared her throat. "Gotta start any good story properly. So, once upon a time..."