Chapter Text
The kids had been feral today.
You didn’t blame them: Full moon, sugar overdose, too much glitter glue in the air. One had tried to marry another with a pipe cleaner ring. Another peed on the block castle. The usual chaos. Still, you loved your job. Most days. And today ended on a small victory: all twenty-four of them were accounted for, relatively clean, and nobody ate a crayon.
You should’ve known that was too smooth.
The car ride home was your quiet reward. With comfy clothes, snack in your bag and music on low volume. You didn’t mind traffic when it meant a little silence.
You were halfway across the city bridge when it hit. Not the car, not yet. The feeling. Like the air had cracked. Like your bones knew something before your eyes did. Then: Impact. Something,- someone?- slammed down three lanes over and metal screamed. Cars spun, horns blared, smoke and light filled the sky like a bad dream. You turned the wheel. Someone else did too. It didn’t matter.
CRASH.
The airbag deployed too fast to see. Your skull snapped sideways. Your vision blurred into white and sparks and- black.
Later, voices filtered in. Some were urgent, hurried. Some calm and focused. You couldn’t move, but you felt things. Heat. A strange rhythm, maybe a heartbeat? Arms lifted you. Almost gently. But firmly and with purpose. One voice barked something, clipped and furious. Another answered, lower. You faded again.
[Bakugos POV]
The scalding hot water hit him like a slap. Perfect, just how he liked it. He stood under the spray with his head bowed, fingers braced against the tiles like they might collapse if he didn’t. It’d been a hell of a day. Villain on the bridge, some psycho preaching about 'purifying traffic flow' or some shit. Ten cars crushed, half the railings gone, smoke for miles.
He didn’t stop to think. He never did. Just moved, reacted. Blew a path clear, pulled people out, shielded a man with his own damn body when the last fireball hit. Fifty saves. Maybe more. Didn’t matter. He rubbed at his collarbone. Something ached.
His mind kept circling back to one of them: A woman, unconscious, blood on her hairline, almost pinned under the wreck. He hadn’t looked twice. Hadn’t had time. But ther was her hair. Bright. Not a usual colour like brown or blond. Something loud. Turquoise? He wasn’t sure. It had caught the light for half a second as he carried her out.
He couldn’t remember her face. Just the weight of her in his arms. The way her hand brushed his collarbone... No. No, that was nothing.
He slammed the faucet off. Water stopped like a blade. He dried himsef with a towel, until he caught his reflection. He paused. There was something different. Katsuki squinted, then ölaned closer. The skin above his left collarbone, the cracked little mark he’d had since he was born. It wasn’t cracked anymore. Not it was a perfect circle. Smooth even. With fine, intricate golden lines inside.
“…What the fuck.” He stared. Then, louder: “What the actual FUCK!”
[Your POV – Hospital, after the crash]
The nurse tugged her glove off with a snap and gave you a polite, rehearsed smile. “You’ve got some nasty bruises,” she said, gently pressing along your collarbone. “Any pain here?”
You winced. “Not really. More like a… weird itch.”
She frowned. “Hmm.” Her fingers brushed the skin above your heart, just under the bone. “That new?”
You glanced down. It wasn’t new. You’d had that small, cracked-looking mark since you were a kid. Your parents said it was just pigmentation, maybe a scar from a fall you couldn’t remember. Only now… The crack was gone.
It was a perfect circle. Faint gold lines inside, not obvious, yet still there if you squinted. Like a pattern of a leave. The nurse tilted her head. “Huh.” Not exactly the clinical response you were hoping for.
[Weeks Later – Dermatologist’s Office]
“You’re sure it wasn’t like this before?” the doctor asked, peering through a handheld scope.
You nodded, arms crossed tight. “It’s symmetrical, has clean lines. No irritation," the doctor listed. "It doesn’t behave like a mole, freckle or burn scar. No precancerous signs either, which is good.”
You exhaled shakily, almost afraid to ask. “So… what is it?”
He pulled off his glasses and shrugged. “Birthmarks can change over time. Hormones, trauma, even stress.” That wasn’t helpful. That wasn’t true, at least you never heard about it. He didn’t say 'I don’t know' but you heard it anyway.
[ At Work – Breakroom Chat]
You and your coworker Hana sipped cheap coffee while the kids screamed outside like tiny banshees. Hana asked about the accident. You gave her the watered-down version. Then, almost an afterthought, you checked that nobody else was looking, you lifted your neckline a bit and showed her the mark. She blinked. “Whoa. That looks… kinda cool.”
You snorted. “Or like alien melanoma.”
“No, seriously. My cousin has something like that. Says it’s a Soulmark.”
You rolled your eyes. “C’mon. You believe in that soulmate stuff?”
Before she could answer, a small voice piped in from behind:
“My grandma and grandpa have those too. They match.”
Little Mei stood in the doorway with juice on her chin and glitter in her hair.
You blinked. “They do?"
She nodded solemnly. “On their wrists. They say it glowed when they met. That’s how you know. Like a fairy spell.” Your heart stuttered. Just for a second.
You smiled. “That’s a very sweet story, Mei.” Children had wild imaginations. You knew that. Still. That night, you opened your laptop. And you googled:
birthmark suddenly changing meaning
Then:
soulmark myths real?
what happens when you meet your soulmate by accident and don't know who it is.
You closed the tab after ten minutes. You didn’t believe in that kind of thing after all. Your fingers however kept brushing the mark on your collarbone. And sometimes when it itched it felt like something was trying to wake up.