𝑩𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒊. 💌

The fear of it settled upon his shoulders like a cruel mistress, always present yet a feeling he wished that he would one day satiate. 

For most of his life, he controlled everything. Every step, every decision, every time he spoke to Asirpa and the others, these were things that he knew. These were things he was fully are of, things he was prepared to control. 

His timer had seemingly skipped a few dozen hours one day, and that terrified him. No longer did it say he'd meet his soulmate in 27 months, 13 days, 2 hours and 27 seconds. The small numbers sitting perfectly just beside of his radial artery jumped dangerously. Something had happened—fate had intervened. And now, his control was winding down to a minimum as his timer now read just 2 hours, 5 minutes, and 6 seconds. 

5.

4.

Asirpa's voice pulled him out of his minute panic. 

"Sugimoto! What are you staring at?" The young girl came to stop beside of him, her hands on her hips as she peered at his visible wrist. Her eyes widened at the sight, a visceral gasp escaping her. She dropped to her knees beside of him, grabbing onto his wrist. Her silence lasted far longer than either of them truly wanted it to. 

"What's this?" she asked, turning his wrist in her hands to see if anything would change. Maybe if she shook him a little bit, it would reset and go back to normal. "Sugimoto, what happened?"

"I don't know," he admitted, staring down at the thing—not with disdain, but with a feeling he couldn't quite shake. It started deep within his gut, bubbling up and dangerously close to his heart and then his throat. Was he going to be sick? No. No...

He heard Inkarmat's voice before he saw her—the fortune teller always had a way with showing up in the worst possible moments.

"Your timer's changed?" she asked, peering over the two of them. "Oh, how exciting! Something must have happened," she said. "A change in plans, your soulmate taking charge of their life."

"Are you saying this is normal?" Asirpa curiously asked, looking up at the woman.

She smiled down at her. "In a way, I suppose. It doesn't always happen, but it seems to happen to the ones that need it the most."

Asirpa raised a brow and stood back up, placing a hand on Sugimoto's shoulder. "Well," she began, smiling. "We still need to go into town. May as well get a head start and see what we find." She looked back down at his timer. 1 hour, 47 minutes, and 3 seconds.

Sugimoto nodded, and for once in the past few months, he felt like he was floating through more or less like a puppet on a string. It was as if something else was controlling him (*cough* Asirpa *cough*). The girl he trusted most led him through the town while the others stayed back, guarding their camp for the evening. 

By the time the two were through with their deeds, Sugimoto's timer was well below the one hour mark. 

"I cannot believe it just changed like that," Sugimoto said, more or less to try and make sense of things even though Asirpa had no clue, herself. "I didn't—is that even something that happens to normal people? It's not like I went out of my way to leave."

"We're not normal, Sugimoto," Asirpa said, walking through the same path they had taken in the town for the third time. They were walking in circles, Asirpa wanting Sugimoto to find the reason for his disastrous timer. 

His nose scrunched at her words. He did his best to ignore her, letting out a soft sigh. "I guess you're right, but... doesn't it take away from everything else? The timer is... it is there to tell us when things happen. And now..."

"...and now you're about to face your biggest challenge yet, huh?"

He raised an eyebrow at her words. He let them roll around in his head for a moment before he nodded. "Yeah... yes, I guess so."

She smiled. "Sometimes the best things in life happen unexpectedly. It's how we met, after all."

Sugimoto let out a soft sigh. She was right. She was almost always right. At times, it should have been infuriating. Instead, he let it come to him and wash over him in the same breath. He was the Immortal Sugimoto. If anything, this should have been a known precedent that he would face. Life had a way of throwing itself at his feet, prepared to change everything he knew when he least expected it. 

By the time his timer was in its last minute or so, he spotted something far too familiar for a man who had no idea what he was looking at. He caught their hair first from so far down the path, their eyes following the same line of his vision. Each new thing he saw, he felt as if his very breath had been taken from his lungs. 

"Asirpa," he said, slapping her arm. 

The girl yelped and scolded him for doing so, but then she realized what was happening. She quickly shut up, wide eyed. In a quick, half-assed attempt, she pushed Sugimoto forward.

"Go!" she said, hands on his back. "Go before your timer decides to do something else and completely reset itself this time."

He let out a huff, borderline a laugh, as he let her push him forward. He found his rhythm quickly, feet guiding him to stop right in front of you. His eyes were wide, his timer hitting zero, and the words that left him are ones that he had no control over no matter how much he wished it weren't so.

"You are my soulmate," he said. He was so certain. There was no doubt in his mind.

Thank god for small miracles, though, because your timer showed zero as well. You were both standing face to face with your soulmate—with the one meant for you. The one that the Universe deemed yours forever and always. 

A change in numbers, one you'd have to tell him over dinner and not presently. 

He smiled softly at you, unable to help himself. "My name is Sugimoto Saichi. And you are?"

—

Shiraishi - Your soulmate's birthday is written on your arm.

He was an absolute fool with anyone for miles around. The day his soulmate's birthday appeared on his wrist, he was absolutely enamored—no clue as to who it was but everything within him knew that he would love them regardless. He would stop at nothing to find them. In fact, most of his "friendships" or whatever you wanted to call them (reluctant as they may be) started with the very simple question as to what their names were and when they were born. It seemed to be a pretty common standard, though, for the people who believed in the soulmate shtick. He had found quite a few who hadn't, and while that was fine and dandy, he was most elated to know that love was meant for him, no matter how many times he tried to chase it in a brothel. Perhaps the Universe cared for him a bit more than his history made him believe. 

So many times he fell in front of another, begging them to tell him their birthday, and each one was unfortunately never a match. His soulmate would have his birthday tattooed on their inner wrist. He would know that they were his, and vice versa, of course. 

Only when he stumbled into the lap of some unsuspecting fool in the middle of a gambling den well known for hospitality and warm drinks did he even hesitate to ask. He had tripped, because of course he couldn't handle his liquor that night, falling right into the lap of the most beautiful person he'd ever laid eyes on. Eyes like canvases to the soul, showing all that he'd ever need to see to fall asleep at night, lips so kissable he thought he was going to explode right on the spot—you get it. 

The question left him quickly: "When's your birthday?!"

The poor thing, you, blinked owlishly for but a moment. And then, with the utmost clarity, you told him your birthday. 

No mistake was given. A wide smile formed on his lips and he reached out, grabbing the wrist in which your sleeve slid up ever-so-slightly just so he could see the rest of your soulmate tattoo. Sure enough, he saw his birthday. 

"That's mine," he said. "That's my birthday."

You, however, could not return his enthusiasm. He was a nice enough man, but he was crushing you, after all.

"Get up?" you piped up, attempting to scoot back. "Please? I'd rather talk to you not in my lap."

He let out a dramatic gasp and scrambled from your lap, getting to his knees beside of you.

"Sorry," he quickly said. "I'm just so—oh, you've no idea how long I've waited to find you!"

"Find me?"

"Yes! My soulmate. We're soulmates."

He showed you his wrist, finally allowing you to see the truth. You were soulmates. There was no questioning it. What a beautiful day, indeed. 

—

Tanigaki - You see color for the first time when you meet.

Black and white was the general sense Tanigaki had of the world. There were so many elements to it that truly inched along right and wrong, but never what was in between. 

His grandmother once told him that when he found his soulmate, he would find the world was so much more. It was not black and white, it was not a number of varying greys, but colorful and vibrant and so full of life that you do not know how you ever lived without them. 

For most of his life, he lived that way. Weaving in and out of what he knew to be right versus wrong, never quite seeing the in between—when it may have been done in the wrong way but it was still right, or when the good may also be the bad. He did not know all the variables that went into being human. 

The moment he started working with Sugimoto Saichi, things changed for him. He may not have seen color just yet, but he viewed the world differently. Asirpa and Ogata, Shiraishi and Kiroranke—each individual led him to believing that perhaps there was more to the world than what was right in front of him. 

Not everything was right and wrong, or up and down. Sometimes, it was right in the middle, waiting for the best that has yet to come.

It happened in a crowded market. 

Tanigaki had gone in to sell a few pelts from Asirpa while the others found lodgings for the night. He had just finished bartering with an older gentlemen for a few more coins than he was originally going to give when something, someone, brushed against his back in a rush to leave the market. That gentle touch, the touch that was fleeting in hindsight, made him pause. 

Bursts of color appeared in his vision, things he had no idea what they truly were but he saw them anyway. The pelts were soft browns and delicate tan, the stand before him engraved with details that must have been painted because how in the world were they so colorful? The man standing before him handed him a few bronze pieces, and he finally pulled his eyes away from the stark-white haired seller, looking for the person who made this possible.

A flurry of people walked to-and-fro, reds and greens and something that must have been blue filtering about. The sun was shining down from its setting position, a sky so beautiful with pinks and oranges that could only belong to such a sight. He walked forward, stuffing the money into his pocket. 

Perhaps he looked a bit too eager, poking his head above the others without much issue, for by the time he made his way to the middle of the market square, you stood there, wide eyed and out of breath. 

Was it you? Did you do this to him?

Were you seeing everything he was seeing?

Your hair, such a beautiful, rich color that once would have been grey to him. Skin so supple, lips just the same—the clothing you wore was not just bland, not just black and white. Neither, he supposed, were the clothes he was wearing. 

He came to a stop in front of you, equally as wide eyed. A slow, steady smile appeared on his lips. 

"Do you...?" He didn't finish. Do you see what I see? 

"I do," you quickly said, a small smile forming on your lips in return. "Color."

"Color," he said, releasing a laborious breath. And then, he took a step closer, mouth opening and closing as he thought of what to say, what to do.

You told him your name.

A flush made its way to his cheeks. Your name—it was something he wished to hear a thousand times over. 

"Tanigaki," he echoed. "Tanigaki Genjirou."

He'd never have to see in black and white, ever again.

—

Koito - Each others' names tattooed on one another's wrists.

Koito Otonoshin was a man of great resolve (or so he liked to believe). He was strong, courageous, and would do anything he needed to, to please not only his father but the deceptive Tsurumi Tokushirou. 

It came at no surprise that the day Koito received his soulmark, your name forever etched into his skin, he decided to keep it covered up. Occasionally, he hid it with a bandage. He'd used makeup a handful of times. More often than not, he depended on his clothing to cover it up. For if Koito was so distracted by such a silly little mark that he truly didn't believe in, then how would he be the best soldier possible? He wanted to be worthy of his family name. Pining for love would never help him get there. 

His obsession with the Lieutenant eventually led him to the moment he met the one person he fought so hard to try and avoid.

The hotheaded man stood side by side with Sergeant Tsukishima, eyeing the sea of people as they milled about. They were on the lookout for someone in particular—Sugimoto Saichi, of course—but he kept getting distracted. Koito continuously looked off into the distance, toward a little tea shop at the end of the slew of individuals quite literally driving him nuts. 

Tsukishima sighed as he realized Koito was far too distracted to be of any use. 

"Take a lap," he said. "Come back when you snap out of it.”

Koito all but waved him off, taking a moment to himself as ordered. His feet led him in the direction of the tea shop, his hands clammy and his shoes feeling far too big for his feet.

What was this? He felt just like a child, like he was doing something wrong and was about to be caught—

Oh. He was, wasn’t he? Walking right into a trap, doing to exact thing he wasn’t meant to do! And all for what? To take a “lap”? To take a breather and hope for the best?

Koito scowled and went to turn back around, nearly bumping into his entire reasoning for coming all this way—you. 

What had him absolutely enamored? Why had he found his way to this damned tea shop, stopping right before going in, and you—oh, no, no, no, this wasn’t supposed to be happening. This couldn’t be happening.

Koito swore off all soulmate bullshit from the start. Told his parents he didn’t believe in it. They didn’t, so why should he? 

And yet, standing here, his tongue feeling like sandpaper and far too big for his mouth, you made him pause.

It seemed he had the same effect to you. Your sleeve on your wrist rode up just a bit, enough that he could see the first few letters of his name. Otonoshin. Koito Otonoshin. 

“What’s your name?” he blurted, tugging at the end of his sleeve. He pulled it up, almost desperate for the light to finally shine on the name so ingrained in the back of his mind. Never had he thought this would happen. Never had he thought he would ever humor anyone, and yet, here he was, breaking every rule he ever laid down for himself.

At the sound of your name, Koito felt his heart leap to his throat. Finally, he pulled the sleeve back enough for you to see your name written right there on his wrist. 

You showed him the same, the truth settling deep within the two of you. You’d finally found each other, after all this time.