His parents are soulmates.

His father tells the story with fondness, usually around a holiday or their anniversary, about the woman who smelled like freshly baked bread in his calculus classroom and how, one fateful afternoon when the sky broke open to a sudden downpour she offered her umbrella to him, half soaked through already. They had shared the umbrella, walking together and talking about nothing much when she finally asked if he really liked peppermint, because he always seemed to smell like it to her. He didn't chew peppermints, nor did he think much of the scent outside of wintertime spices. He told her that to him, she smelled like freshly baked bread and he wondered if she worked or lived at a bakery. She didn't.

He asked her out on a date. She agreed. And the rest, he always said, was history.

When he was younger, he and his sister would talk about what their own soulmates must be like. What color hair they had, what color eyes, what was their quirk, how many siblings they had, what job they would have, how much money they had, what they did for fun, where they might be living, and, most importantly, what they would smell like.

Nakushi was sure that her soulmate would smell like fresh laundry, warm and comforting and homey. Except when she was sure they would smell like their grandmother's favorite tea. Or when she was sure it would be some sugary sweet. Hitoshi had thought his might be flowers or his favorite sauce or the smell of mint crushed between the fingers. As he grew older, they talked less and less of these things, and Hitoshi kept his thoughts to himself. While his younger siblings were awed by their father's story and talked about their own soulmates, Hitoshi kept his mouth shut.

His parents might be soulmates, but not everyone had one, and if they did, not everyone found them. While his parents treated their relationship as special and significant, all around him there were soulmate speed dating advertisements and television shows, gossip magazines about heroes and celebrities and their possible soulmates, movies about people faking being soulmates only for the real soulmate to arrive or deceiving someone with false scents.

Hitoshi had enough trouble with his classmates thinking he'd brainwash them to obey him. The last thing he needed was to find his soulmate and then have everyone think he had brainwashed them or, even worse, to accidentally do it somehow.

He hadn't had an accident with his quirk in years but the fear was still there, deep in his chest, waiting and lurking.

So, Hitoshi kept his distance from people. He didn't make a point of smelling anyone, like others might do while searching for their soulmate. He didn't have a soulmate. He didn't want a soulmate. He didn't need a soulmate.

He was just fine on his own.


Class 1-A was infuriatingly welcoming.

Hitoshi had been part of the class for barely more than a week and yet here he was, sitting on the couch between Kaminari and Kirishima as they watched some whole-hearted second-rate film that he could not, for the life of him, pay attention to. It wasn't that the film was boring, really, or even that it was so horribly bad he couldn't stand it.

No, the problem was he kept getting this strange smell. It wasn't the buttery popcorn that was passed over his lap from Kaminari to Kirishima. It wasn't that electrical snap that Kaminari had when he used his quirk too much. It wasn't even just a general human body smell that came from so many teenagers in one room. It was something else. Something that cut through the air and kept distracting him, making him think of his home above the bakery, his father's cooking, his cat Saeko, his kid siblings, his annoyingly cheerful elder sister, his mother's warm, steady gaze. It smelled like home, like warm bread and heated stonework, like hot air and coffee.

It was driving him slowly up the wall and he didn't know what to do about it. He wanted to leave the group, abandon the movie, and get to his room. He wanted to wash his face and take a shower and change his clothes and get away from that scent because it made his chest hurt and made him homesick and made his stomach churn.

He held the bowl of popcorn in his hands, stiff and barely breathing.

Who was it? Who carried that scent? This was the first time he'd been in a group with most of the class, all bunched together on the few couches and a large beanbag chair for comfort. He could reach out with a hand or foot and touch six different people and he had no idea which one of them carried that scent, which one of them he had to avoid.

He wasn't going to do this here, not now. He wasn't going to mess everything up by getting distracted by someone. He couldn't have a soulmate. They couldn't be one of these people.

Kirishima got up on his side, plucking the bowl from his numb fingers. "Gonna get more popcorn," he whispered. He left the couch. For a second, then two, Hitoshi debated following him. He could go with Kirishima, see if he carried the scent with him, then he would either know to avoid him or if he was safe and—

At his feet, on the bean bag chair, Bakugou shifted and rolled over. He left the bean bag and took Kirishima's place on the couch. Hitoshi wouldn't have blamed him for it, considering the couch had to be more comfortable, except for the fact that when he did that smell grew stronger.

Bakugou. It was Bakugou.

Stiffly, he turned to look at him. Bakugou was already looking back at him. The light from the television screen flickered across his face but Hitoshi couldn't read his expression. He'd seen plenty of Bakugou already. Saw him practically rabid as the winner of the sport festival, saw him shouting and yelling and fighting and taunting and grinding his foot on the back of anyone who stooped before him. He hadn't seen him be calm outside of a classroom, but then he hadn't seen him much outside of a classroom at all.

Bakugou gave him one long, slow blink, as if that could possibly say all that needed to be said, and then turned back to the movie. He just sat there, with his arms folded, as if he didn't smell like home and safety and comfort to Hitoshi. As if Hitoshi could just ignore what all of this meant—

"Dude, uncool," Kirishima whispered, now back with the popcorn. "That's my spot."

Bakugou shifted closer to Hitoshi, who automatically moved away to try and escape him. This ended up giving Bakugou more room to shift over and, eventually, give Kirishima enough space to sit down on the couch. Kaminari complained on the other side of Hitoshi, but Bakugou's glare shut him up.

Wedged between Kaminari and Bakugou, Hitoshi found he could focus even less on the movie than before. Bakugou didn't do anything while they watched the movie. He didn't try to touch Hitoshi. He didn't lean over to smell him. He didn't try to talk to him. He barely even offered him popcorn to eat, and that was under Kirishima's prompting. Not that Hitoshi could reach over into his space for the popcorn. He couldn't move, didn't dare unclench his fists in his lap, didn't dare even look at him.

The movie played out to completion and, finally, the credits rolled. The moment Hitoshi was sure it was over, he popped up to his feet and moved to leave.

"Oh, can you get the lights?" Kirishima asked him. He nodded jerkily and went over to the wall. He flipped on the lights and kept walking, heading for the elevators up. He needed to get to his room and breathe.

He heard someone call his name behind him but he ignored that. He didn't run down the hallway to the elevator but it was a near thing.

He jammed the button and then waited, not hyperventilating but close to it. As the doors opened, Hitoshi slipped inside and turned to press the button to his floor. The doors slowly began to close.

For a moment he was sure Bakugou would slip into the elevator with him, but no. He'd managed to get away. He nervously shifted his weight from foot to foot as the elevator went up. What if he was there, on the other side of the doors when they opened? What if Bakugou was waiting for him? What could he want? What was he going to say?

Hitoshi ran through the various options in his head, but when the doors opened it proved entirely unnecessary.

Bakugou wasn't there.

He was alone.

Sighing with relief, Hitoshi went to his room.


Avoidance was not impossible.

The first day, Hitoshi kept his head down and didn't engage with anyone.

The third day, he let his guard down a little around Midoriya and his little circle of friends.

By the end of the week, Hitoshi felt comfortable associating with the group at large, as long as he didn't at all end up next to or near Bakugou. He could maintain this distance with ease and so he did.

He didn't think anyone even noticed the change. It wasn't like he'd been around him a whole lot to begin with. If he had, he would've noticed that smell earlier, he was sure of it.

Besides that one time on the couch, Bakugou made no move to get close to him in any way. He didn't try to talk to him. He didn't linger around him to be near him. He didn't even try to catch Hitoshi during the few times a day he was alone.

As far as Hitoshi could tell, Bakugou just went on with his life as normal, as if nothing had happened. It was, frankly, really reassuring.

Maybe, if he never said anything, if Hitoshi never said anything, no one would ever know.

He'd be fine if that was the case. He didn't need a soulmate. He didn't want a soulmate.

He was fine.


"I keep meaning to ask, um," Midoriya leaned back against the wall next to Hitoshi. It was Saturday, just before noon, and they were waiting for his other friends to come outside so they could head to a shop together. It was one of their rare Saturdays off and Hitoshi had been glad for the invite to come along. It had given him plenty of reason to say no to Kirishima's invitation to join him and the others in his group for some board games. He'd seen Bakugou in that group and was glad to avoid it and even more glad he had a valid reason for it.

"Ask what?" Hitoshi asked as he glanced at his friend. There were very few things that made Midoriya look so nervous. He felt his stomach clench with anxiety.

"Did Kacchan do something to you?" Midoriya asked. His green eyes were clear and curious, a little concerned even, as he glanced up at Hitoshi and then looked away quickly. "Only, you've been avoiding him for a while now and I was just wondering— I mean he had some bad habits when we were younger and I know you've said that your quirk made things a struggle sometimes so I thought maybe he was acting up or something. And maybe it won't help much but I could talk to him for you?"

Hitoshi's mouth went dry. He swallowed. He couldn't help but feel his back go tense and he forced himself to take a deep breath and relax. "He hasn't done anything," he said.

"Oh. That's good!" Midoriya looked relieved, "It must be my imagination, then. I mean, if he's not doing anything terrible to you, there's not really a reason to avoid him. So you must not be."

"I am avoiding him," Hitoshi said. He stifled a wince. He hadn't really meant to say that…

"What? Why?"

"Because he's a self-obsessed asshole, he's unnecessarily competitive, he's stubborn, hot-headed, violent, and vulgar. I don't particularly enjoy the company of someone who calls me an extra or a nobody or treats me and others as unworthy of even the basic levels of respect."

Midoriya winced, "Ah. Yeah. There's all that. He has been getting better, though. Um. He's calmer than he was!"

"Uh huh," Hitoshi said. "Good for him. I still don't feel like exposing myself to that bullshit."

Midoriya sighed. He scuffed his shoe on the ground and looked generally displeased. "He's not all bad," he muttered, "I wish other people could see that."

"I'm sure someone will be able to tolerate his behavior, but it's not going to be me."

Midoriya nodded. He was quiet for a while and then whispered, "I hope Kacchan can find his soulmate one day. He's a great guy, you know, he deserves to be happy too. Someone to love him and be there for him…"

Hitoshi opened his mouth for a scathing remark but closed it again. He said nothing. He looked away. After another minute of silence, he finally muttered, "Soulmates aren't real, Midoriya. You should really learn to grow up."

He pushed off the wall and took a few steps away.

"Shinsou?" Midoriya called after him. "Where are you going?"

"I forgot something I need to do," Hitoshi lied. "I can't go after all."

To Midoriya's credit, he didn't call after him and ask him to change his mind. He just let him walk away.

Hitoshi went home.


Saturdays were always busy at the bakery, so when Hitoshi ducked into the shop he was easily able to slip past his father's notice and head to the back stairs and up to the second floor. He stepped into the house above and slipped off his shoes, sighing heavily and leaning his forehead against the wall. From where he stood he could see the flat wooden post that had been nailed to the wall that had the marks for all his and his siblings' heights over the years. He ran his fingers over a few of the lines and, feeling morose, finally entered the main room.

It was quiet here, except for the distant sounds that echoed through the floor. He moved slowly across the room, realizing belatedly that his room would be empty of pretty much everything these days. He couldn't even go sulk there properly like he wanted to. He should have just stayed at the dorms.

Except he wanted to be home. He wanted to be here, where the smell of the ovens below seemed to seep into everything, where he could lay on the floor and hear the hum of the oven if he was in the right corner of the room, where he and his family lived and he felt safe and respected and loved, not feared and hated and rejected.

Hitoshi went to the corner of the room and lay down with his ear to the floor. He listened to the oven through the wood. It was warm here, though the insulation was pretty good in most places, it seemed to always be warm in this corner when the ovens were on.

He drowsed there, letting the hum fill his thoughts and numb everything.

He had no idea how long he'd been there when he suddenly heard a gasp and his mother's voice, "Hitoshi? What on earth are you doing?"

Hitoshi opened his eyes. He looked up at her from the floor. She wore one of his father's sweaters over a house dress and her long hair had been pulled to one side and fell over her shoulder in a messy braid. She came over to where he lay and knelt down next to him on the floor, looking concerned. She set her mug on the ground next to her and he could smell the faint aroma of her tea.

Tears filled his eyes.

It was all the same. The tea. The wood. The oven. The bread. His home smelled just as he remembered.

Just as he had smelled from Bakugou.

"Hitoshi," his mother's voice was softer than he'd heard it since he was a child and woke up from nightmares. She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair. "It's all right," she told him. "Everything's okay."

"No, it's not," he mumbled. His voice was thick and his tears threatened to spill over his cheeks.

"What happened?" she asked him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Hitoshi closed his eyes. He didn't want to say anything but he felt like he might burst if he didn't. Struggling with himself for a while, he finally managed to speak. "I found my soulmate. I think."

Her hand stilled for a second and then began to stroke his head again. "Why don't I make you some tea and we sit at the table and talk, mm? Then you can tell me all about it."

Sniffling, Hitoshi agreed.


"He's an asshole." Hitoshi stared down at the mug in his hands, scowled at it really, "He's loud and violent and competitive and stubborn and thick and hot-headed and vulgar and just flat out rude to pretty much everyone he meets."

"Mmm," his mother sipped her tea. "Sounds like a handful."

"He definitely is that," Hitoshi said, "I can't stand him. I can't stand being around him. I mean, I found out from his childhood friend that he used to bully other kids and I hate bullies. I can't believe that he's my soulmate. It can't be him."

"Why do you think it is him?"

Hitoshi hunched his shoulders. He drew his mug closer and muttered, "He sat next to me on the couch a while ago and he… he smells like home."

"Have you talked to him about it?" she asked, "Has he confirmed that it's two sided?"

Hitoshi jolted and lifted his head to look at his mother. "What? It can be one-sided?"

"Rarely, but yes," she said, "At least, it's possible. Someone might be your soulmate but you're not necessarily theirs. It can happen. And I'm not convinced that's what happened to you. What has he done since then? What has he said about it?"

"Nothing," Hitoshi said quietly. "He hasn't— He hasn't said anything. He hasn't even… he doesn't go out of his way to talk to me or be near me or— Since that first time when I freaked out and ran off I— I don't even know if he—" He stopped talking. He stared at her in shock.

She sighed a little. "Even if you want nothing to do with him, it's best if you know for sure if it's mutual. Perhaps he's also disinclined to pursue anything. Either way, you're old enough now that you should talk this over with him."

"Talk—" Hitoshi said quietly, "I can't— I can't just talk to him about it—"

"Why not?"

Hitoshi stared at her. He gestured to himself with one hand and said, "My quirk, Mom. My quirk is why not. If I talk to him alone and— and— and any part of his behavior or personality changes people are going to immediately assume that I did something to him!"

"Hitoshi, I know you would never do such a thing," she started, but her tone was firm and he could tell that she wasn't happy with what he was saying. "And anyone who does—"

"You don't understand," he interrupted her, leaning forward, "You don't get it. I'm new to these other kids. And this guy he— he's notoriously an asshole. If he changes his behavior towards me, specifically, for any reason, the first thing they're going to assume is that I brainwashed him with my quirk. And once they decide that, that's what it'll be and I'll— They'll tell a teacher and convince them and then I'll get kicked out of heroics and put back into generals, if I'm lucky, and outright expelled if I'm not. You don't get it, Mom, there's no way I can do or say anything to him without it becoming a mess that I have to suffer for. Not him. Not anyone else. Me."

"I hear you," she said. His mother reached across the table and put her hand on top of his. "You know I would fight for your position in the school, don't you? I wouldn't let them unilaterally remove you from that course without them proving that you have done something. If you had brainwashed him to change, it would be possible to tell. Not that you even would. I know you wouldn't, so does your father. We believe you, Hitoshi."

Hitoshi looked at his mother, shoulders sagging. They had always believed him or believed in him. He'd moved schools when bullying was an issue in one, but he'd kept the bullying in the second one to himself, unwilling to go through all that entailed a second time. To have his parents fight for him to stay in heroics when the other students would be turned against him—

He dropped his eyes down to the table and mumbled, "Maybe I can move classes and not have to be around him at all. There's a second heroics class. I could go to that one. I mean, I just moved up. It's not like moving me to that other class would be a big deal."

"If that's what you want to do," his mother said, "Then I support you in that. I still think you should speak to your soulmate first. Avoiding him like this, running away from him, it'll send him a message that you're not interested in him, which, yes, you aren't right now, but you might be in the future. You don't want to burn that bridge before you've even built it, do you?"

Hitoshi shook his head. He couldn't imagine talking to Bakugou about this. They'd probably get into a fight or something and it would become a mess and the others would overhear and—

His mother sighed and got to her feet to come around the table and stand beside him. She smoothed her hand through his hair and then pulled him against her side. "Talk to him," she said, "Find out where he stands on this. He might want to wait too. He might be scared too. I promise if anything bad happens about your quirk and the school, I'll help you deal with it, but you can't run away from something like this, son. You know you can't."

Hitoshi wrapped one arm around her and hugged her close. His mother wasn't much of a hugger, so it made him feel even more choked up when she just held him like this. He closed his eyes tightly and muttered, "Okay. I will. I'll talk to him."


In the bustle of after dinner clean up, Hitoshi eased up to Bakugou as he left the table. As usual, Bakugou had helped with the prep of the meal so he was excused from the clean up. Today, Hitoshi had helped out, joining Bakugou, Kirishima and their friend group for dinner and helping prep so he could speak to him afterwards. It had been the first time in weeks that he had purposefully been near Bakugou, and he had seen a couple of quick, narrow-eyed glances thrown his way as if Bakugou were trying to figure out why, all of a sudden, he was around him again.

"Bakugou?" Hitoshi murmured to him, "Can we speak for a moment?"

Bakugou grunted in reply. Hitoshi felt the buzz in the back of his brain that meant it was enough of a reply that he could use his quirk on Bakugou, but he shut that thought in his head down. He was anxious enough about this. He didn't need to have a quirk accident.

He thought he might have to insist they speak alone or something, but Bakugou just turned and headed for the hallway instead of trying to talk right there. Hitoshi followed him.

They got into the elevator together, which was, in hindsight, a terrible idea because that homey-warm-comfort smell that came off of Bakugou was making Hitoshi's instincts fight against his nervousness and it was getting a bit overwhelming. He didn't understand why it was like this though. In all his parents' stories of their soulmate bond, they'd never spoken about the scent permeating a room like this or becoming distracting in its own way.

Hitoshi stumbled a little when they left the elevator and blindly followed Bakugou down the hall and to a door. He recognized it as Bakugou's own after the other boy unlocked it and pushed the door open.

He'd never been in his room. He wasn't sure if he wanted to go in. In fact, he was pretty sure he didn't want to go in.

Hitoshi blinked.

Suddenly, he was sitting on the end of Bakugou's bed.

Bakugou stood across from him, leaning against his desk. There was nothing particularly spectacular about his room. There was a bed and a desk and some shelves, some weights in the corner and a weird metal box with a hammer and wrench next to it. There were even a few posters on the wall, heroic ones mostly, but the thing that caught Hitoshi's gaze was a poster made of photographs, a collage of green and blue and bright colors, of mountain sides and valleys and flowers and wild growing plants.

"Well?" Bakugou demanded, dragging Hitoshi's attention back to himself. "The fuck did you want to talk about?"

Hitoshi opened his mouth and then shut it again. He cleared his throat. "Do you remember a little while ago," he said carefully, watching Bakugou for any shift in expression, "When we were watching that movie with the group and you sat next to me on the couch?"

Bakugou nodded.

"Did you happen to— Did you happen to smell anything strange then? Something that seemed out of place?"

Again, Bakugou nodded.

Hitoshi glanced away. "So did I." The moment hung for a second as he struggled for his next words. Should he just blurt everything out? Did Bakugou even realize what that all meant? Did he—

"Then why the fuck did you run away?"

Hitoshi blinked. "What?"

"You fucking ran off. Don't deny it, we both know what you did," Bakugou said in irritation. Hitoshi looked at him and saw he'd tightened his arms that he had folded over his chest as if he were keeping himself from gesturing or moving closer, "And then you kept avoiding me but now, what, you changed your mind? What the fuck do you want, Shinsou?"

It was barely a question with how Bakugou snarled out the words.

"You do realize what that means, don't you?" Hitoshi bit back, "About you and I, about what we are to each other— Of course I ran away. I'm surprised you didn't, once you figured it out!"

Bakugou's lip curled in a sneer, "If you hate it that much then why bother coming crawling back to me? Just keep avoiding me if you don't want to be my soulmate. It'll eventually fade and we can both move on."

Hitoshi grabbed a fistfull of the sheets on either side of himself, feeling his anger build. This wasn't exactly how he had imagined this going, but then again, he'd never really spoken to Bakugou one-on-one so what should he have expected anyway? "I wanted to be sure," he said quietly. "I had to know for sure if it was mutual. If it was one-sided then… I don't know. It doesn't matter anyway because we both connected." He looked away and said, "I don't know if it can fade but maybe if we just ignore it…"

"It can," Bakugou said confidently, "But it isn't time that does it. Something else has to happen, to change us. But it can fade."

"How would you know?" Hitoshi asked. He met Bakugou's gaze, expecting more anger, more confidence, but what he got was something else.

Bakugou, eyes half-closed, looking down at the floor between them. "Because it's happened once to me already."

Hitoshi stared at him. His mouth opened and shut a few times. "What?"

But Bakugou didn't seem interested in answering his question. He glared at him and said, "I'm not going to fucking force you into anything. If you don't want this then you don't want it. I barely fucking know you anyway so it's not like I care that much. Just keep avoiding me and I'll keep out of your way and eventually we'll change and it'll go away."

"You had a different soulmate before?" Hitoshi asked, still hung up on that. "But you're— We're so young. How did that happen? When did it happen? Who was it?"

Bakugou scoffed. "I'm not going to just sate your fucking curiosity so you can go telling people my personal business. We don't matter to each other so my past doesn't fucking matter to you."

"But—"

Bakugou suddenly snapped, taking a step towards him and raising his voice as he shouted, "You're the one who is rejecting this bullshit! You don't get to have it both fucking ways, okay? Either avoid me and move on and break the connection or fucking commit to it. I don't have the time to waste on your fucking indecision and I'm not going to give you fucking anything when you aren't offering anything in return, got that?"

Hitoshi leaned back. His heart raced in his chest and his anger swelled up inside of him. He tried to swallow it down but he couldn't. "I'm not indecisive," he argued back, "I was just curious but fine. I don't care and I don't need to know and it doesn't matter anyway. It'll be better for you once I'm gone, I'm sure, so I'll just leave you alone forever."

He got to his feet as Bakugou barked out a laugh, "Ha! Sure, run off and save yourself from me. You wouldn't want to get caught up with someone like me, would you?"

Hitoshi rolled his eyes, "Saying that just shows how little you understand the situation, Bakugou." He shook his head and turned to go to the door. "I'll just leave. There's no point continuing this argument."

He didn't know why he didn't expect Bakugou to come after him, but he did and it surprised Hitoshi. Bakugou grabbed his arm and pulled him back, forcing Hitoshi to face him. "I understand the situation perfectly," Bakugou sneered in his face. "You think you're too fucking good for me because I'm, what was it again, a violent, vulgar, self-obsessed asshole?"

"That's not what I" Hitoshi pulled on his arm but Bakugou wouldn't let him go. "I didn't mean"

"I heard you," Bakugou's grip tightened and Hitoshi's heart jumped into his throat. "Don't fucking lie to me now. You think you're better than me so why should you accept being my fucking soulmate, right?"

"Let me go," Hitoshi said. He pushed against Bakugou's chest but it was like shoving a tree. How the hell was he this strong? "Let me go right now."

Bakugou did so but then slammed his hand against the door behind him, holding it shut as he leaned in close. "You're no better than me, you got that? Don't you dare fucking look down on me like you're something I'm not."

"You idiot," Hitoshi pushed against his chest again. "I'm not leaving because I think I'm better than you. Can't you see we're a terrible match? We'd never get along as we are now and if you changed how you acted towards me everyone would accuse me of brainwashing you with my quirk. That would ruin my chances of becoming a hero and I'm not going to let that happen."

He half expected his words to go in one ear and out the other, but it seemed Bakugou was capable of listening while he was angry. Instead of continuing to rant or hit things, he went quiet and leaned in closer, pressing against Hitoshi's hand that kept him back. "What the fuck are you talking about? Your quirk can't do that, can it?"

"Well, no," Hitoshi said, "But not everyone knows the details of it and I'm not about to over explain it to people who think I'm basically a villain already."

"Would you ever use your quirk on me like that?" Bakugou asked.

"No!" Hitoshi exclaimed, "That's what I'm talking about, I wouldn't do that but people think I would. They already think I'm a villain and I've never done anything to them."

Bakugou suddenly leaned back, giving Hitoshi the space he'd wanted before. His expression was hard and bitter. "Yeah," he said, "You're not the only one, either."

Hitoshi said nothing. He wasn't sure what to say and so he defaulted to silence.

Bakugou moved further away and, to Hitoshi's further surprise, it seemed like his anger had deflated considerably. Yes, he was still upset, but he was no longer yelling or threatening. He just turned his head away from Hitoshi and said in a surprisingly steady, calm voice, "If you don't want to recognize the soulmate bond then fine. We won't recognize it. It probably won't last anyway. My mom always told me that soulmate bonds that show up early are more likely to fade as you get older. They're just not permanent the way adult soulmate bonds are."

Hitoshi opened his mouth to dispute that but then stopped himself. He didn't have any proof to the contrary. His parents had met as adults. He'd never really met anyone his age or around there who had met their soulmate, though plenty of people pretended to or tried to. And for Bakugou to already have had one and had the bond end for whatever reason…

"Who was your last soulmate?" Hitoshi asked. The temptation to use his quirk was right there, on the tip of his tongue, especially when he saw Bakugou tense up and start to glare at him again. He knew there was no way Bakugou would ever tell him that willingly, but he wanted to know. He restrained himself, though. He wasn't going to use his quirk like that. He was better than that.

"It's none of your fucking business," Bakugou said. "I'm not going to tell you."

"If our bond ends too," Hitoshi asked, "Will you tell your next soulmate about me?"

Bakugou tilted his head to the side and asked, "What would there be to tell? I don't know a fucking thing about you."

Hitoshi hesitated. He wanted to know more. He wanted to understand better. He wanted to— He wanted to bond with Bakugou. He stood near him and smelled his home, his parents' cooking, the smell of tea and bread, and, ever so faintly, the heat of the oven. It was all there. It was all coming from Bakugou. It was giving him every reason to get closer, to become his soulmate, to ignore what people might say and might do for the very real possibility of a deeper connection to Bakugou.

Hitoshi leaned back against the door, feeling stupid and weak-kneed and anxious. He looked down, unable to quite meet Bakugou's gaze, and asked, "What if— What if I was wrong— About before?"

"Wrong about what?"

"What if maybe— What if we tried? I mean— How different are you really going to act in public with me around? People might not even notice and even if they do if I'm not— If it doesn't look like you're fawning over me or whatever people think a brainwashed fake-soulmate looks like— If you still act and look normal, I could—

"You could what?" Bakugou asked, the words snapping out of him as violent as any strike, "You could give it a go? You think I'll let you yank me around like this, playing will-he-won't-he because you're supposedly my soulmate?"

"There's no supposedly about it," Hitoshi lifted his gaze back to his face and said, "You're my soulmate. We can either deny it or accept it but whatever we do we both have to make the same choice. I won't chase you if you're not willing to be chased. I won't ignore you if you don't want to be ignored. That's how being soulmates work. We work through it together or we cut ties right now and don't look back."

Bakugou just stared back at him, his expression frozen somewhere between disbelief and shock.

"Choose, Bakugou," Hitoshi told him. "Do you want me or not?"

Bakugou closed his eyes. Hitoshi waited. He wouldn't be impatient. He wouldn't walk away yet. He'd wait. He could wait. It was a hard decision after all. He wasn't even sure he could make it, even though he already had in a way. He had walked in here thinking he'd cut ties before anything began but somewhere between then and now he ended up here, half hoping Bakugou would say yes and stay with him, half fearing that he would say yes and everything he'd done and worked for would start to slip through his fingers.

He can help me become stronger, Hitoshi thought as he stared at Bakugou, waiting for him to come to his decision. It wasn't hard to see the other boy's physical strength and, well, mental resilience. Maybe his emotional outbursts were aggravating, but he had a good head on his shoulders. He'd gone through some terrible shit already and walked away from it unscathed. Their lives would only become more perilous as they got older and became pro heroes. He would need someone in his corner who was strong and determined and powerful.

He had no idea what benefit he could give Bakugou. His reputation was worse than Bakugou's own. He wasn't as physically capable as him, though maybe that could change with more training. His versatility in a battle was still being discovered, whereas Bakugou was a fantastic pro-hero prodigy already.

If they were five years younger, Hitoshi didn't think he'd even be able to entertain the thought of them being soulmates. His jealousy of Bakugou's quirk would have eroded away any attempt for a mutually beneficial relationship. But they weren't ten, they were fifteen, almost sixteen, and Hitoshi was different now.

And he was already on track to become a hero. He could still do that, become that, even without Bakugou.

Suddenly, Bakugou moved and Hitoshi's attention snapped back to him.

Bakugou dragged his hand over his face and then shook his head. He made an aggravated sound and all but leaped forward, closing the distance between them again. In a second he was right in front of Hitoshi again except this time Hitoshi wasn't holding him back and it was his entire forearm braced against the door, not just his hand.

They were so close that Hitoshi could clearly see the details in Bakugou's eyes. They were a dark, ruby red, as clear as the gemstone they resembled, and he held Hitoshi's gaze in an intense focus. His breath caught as Bakugou clearly sought something in his face, eyes moving back and forth before he asked, "If we do this, we're both committed to it, right?"

"Right."

"If you change your mind, you have to tell me right away. Do you promise to do that?"

"I promise."

"I do too," Bakugou said. "If anything changes, I'll tell you."

He was so close. Hitoshi was so tempted to close his eyes and just breathe in his scent. His heart jumped into his throat as Bakugou cupped his cheek in one hand, his palm warm, his fingers calloused. For a second he was convinced Bakugou was about to kiss him but no. Bakugou didn't kiss him, he just pressed his forehead against Hitoshi's. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Hitoshi knew what he was doing. Bakugou was breathing in his scent. He wondered what it was. What did he smell like that made Bakugou look so calm?

Hitoshi closed his eyes and breathed in deeply as well. He had no idea if this was going to work out, but at least he knew he tried and that would have to be good enough.