Chapter Text
By the age of ten Bukugo Katsuki is convinced he doesn't have any soul bonds. He’s seen the marks on his skin, but he doesn’t believe them for not even one fucking second.
Why should he anyway? It’s not like anyone out there cared even one bit about him.
Well one person might.
He shook his head fiercely, he needed to snap out of it. He didn’t want to think about him, with his wide green eyes and innocent smile. He was close enough to sparking up as it was, it was never a good idea to make it any worse with anger.
He had three marks, if his parents were to be believed. One was a simple black cat, taking a nap with its tail hanging over a ledge. That one was believable enough, simple, it could be anybody really.
The second was a black needle and a red thread, his mother told him that must be his mark for her, since she worked in the fashion industry. He hated that this one fit, that it worked. He hated the fact that he could possibly be bound to the hag by fate. He hated that it meant that every fucked up thing she did to him was justified in the eyes of fate.
He hated that it meant that he was supposed to be here, stewing in frustration and humiliation as the gloves slowly absorbed his sweat. He was quite literally a ticking time bomb, if he so much as moved too quickly his hands would be utterly scorched.
He hated the fact that it meant he somehow deserved it.
The only thing that made it better, was the fact that he had a green mark. It was a green key with two bunny-like ears, he could have laughed. Green marks didn’t exist .
Nobody out there had ever had a green mark, it was unheard of. It made him think that the whole thing was a hoax, an elaborate lie his parents told him to keep him in check. He might not have any soul marks for all he knew, not real ones anyway.
He was fine with that...
...and he was fine, all the way up until the end of his work study with Best Jeanist.
He hadn’t looked at the marks in years, he hadn’t thought about them in years, they were irrelevant, meaningless. Just shapes and colors, there was no meaning to them.
He hadn’t liked the man, he came off as a snob and was always telling him to play nice and smile for the people. It was all pointless showmanship, and by the end of his internship he hadn’t learned a single damn thing, much less been in a real fight.
He got more violence at home in a single night than he got this whole damn week, it was absolutely pathetic.
On the last day of his internship though, something happened. As Jeanist combed gently through his hair, Katsuki noticed something. It was barely visible in the shadow of his long sleeved denim costume, but it was a flash of red just showing in his vision as Jeanist worked from behind him. He had to wait until he got another glance as he repeated the motion, to fully comprehend what he was seeing. It was just on the inside of his wrist, a black explosion in the shape of a mushroom cloud, with a small red heart inside of it.
Katsuki felt a wake of chills hit him, almost instinctively he could tell that the mark was his. He didn’t know how he knew but he knew . That was his mark and Jeanist had it. Katsuki did his best to hide it, the internal crisis he was having as his whole world seemed to be knocked off kilter.
No.
Fucking.
Way.
It was all he could think about, he was running on autopilot, while his mind shut down entirely trying to process that the marks were real and he’d just felt what it was like to find a soul parent.
He couldn’t deny that they were real, not any more, and Katsuki was suddenly overwhelmed with multiple emotions at once, shame that he was bonded permanently to his wretched mother, fear about what the fucking hell a green mark might possibly mean, and some amount of shock that there was one right here, a soul parent.
He wondered dully why he’s never felt this sensation with either of his parents before.
Dragging him forcefully from his thoughts, Jeanist started to speak. “I know that you’re probably disappointed with how this week went. I know we didn’t see much action.”
The gears clicked in Katsuki’s mind after a moment of silence passed between them. He realized that he was expected to reply and gave a simple grunt. “Damn right I am….”. He couldn’t muster more venom than that though, not with his mind as it was. He needed to destroy something before it became too much, he could already feel the nitroglycerin coating his sweaty palms. His racing thoughts made him sweat and he needs to blow it up before it hurts someone.
Though, in this close proximity to Jeanist, the idea was pushed down. With the amount of nitroglycerin built up, all he’d do is either hurt Jeanist or startle him and neither of which was good.
“I do hope you understand why I had you do the exercises I did.” Jeanist prompted, clearly goading Katsuki for a better answer. There’s that condescending tone again, he could practically hear him tilt up his nose in disdain. How the actual hell could he be my soul parent?
“Of course, I fucking do! I’m not a dumbass.” He latched on to the anger, it was familiar, not like the utter confusion that had come with the discovery of the mark.
Jeanist hummed placatingly as he continued to comb through his hair, the damn guy was really into this shit. He was so intensely focused on it that he hadn’t looked anywhere else, it was probably the only thing that saved Katsuki’s sudden change in demeanor from being noticed. “Oh, then tell me. Why did I?”
Katsuki would literally rather be doing anything else, but no, here he was a grown-ass teenager, having his hair done like he was some girl’s doll. The answer he said tasted bitter in his mouth. Especially as he remembered the echo of his mother’s voice screaming similar sentiments just the other day.
“...everyone thinks I’m a villain, because of the way I reacted to being chained to the pedestal at the sports festival. “. Katsuki huffed, doing his best to keep the undesirable emotions from his voice, keying up the annoyance as a cover. It was still lingering just below the surface.
That was his fucking soul parent he was talking to, holy shit.
He violently pushed the desire to just ask the man about the mark on his wrist down. Get your shit together you were in the middle of a damn conversation.
“In order to be a hero, the public needs to trust me right, that’s your damn point, and people won’t trust someone like me?” Katsuki added, summing up the week's events in a single conversation. Tsunagu gave him an affectionate pat to the shoulder.
Why the hell is he so chummy, all I’ve done this week was cuss and yell at him? That wasn’t guilt he felt, he swore to god it wasn’t.
“I’m glad, I was convinced you didn’t listen to a single word I said this week. It seems like I was wrong.” Jeanist finished up his work and spun the chair around so Katsuki was facing him. The man was smiling warmly, the denim mask didn’t hide the way the creases at the corners of his eyes hinted at the smile.
“So what you’re saying is that I have to pretend to be someone I’m not, just to make people happy? That sounds like bullshit.” Katsuki found himself seriously considering what Jeanist was saying for the first time this week, and that was his honest assessment. This was bullshit, so long as he saved their sorry asses they should be grateful. He shouldn’t have to pretend to be nice about it.
Jeanist’s smile faded and he took a moment to consider Katsuki’s question. “Not necessarily, would you say that you are truly to the core a villain?”
Katsuki’s mind froze for a moment, visibly flinching. While Katsuki had hinted at the idea before he hadn’t expected the man in front of him to blatantly ask him about it. If he wasn’t such a mess at the moment, he would have heard the slightly playful tone to the man’s voice, indicating that he didn’t actually believe what he was insinuating. However, when he said those words, all Katsuki could see was his mother. The close connection between the two of them as his supposed soul parents brought to him the stunning realization that everyone believed it, that he was a villain at heart.
For a split second, he considered bolting off, because fuck this . This was too much bullshit and he couldn’t handle it all at once.
Jeanist noticed the change and his brow furrowed slightly in concern. Shit . Calm the fuck down, you asshole of a brain, shut the fuck up just until I can get the hell out of this place, until I can finish this conversation and have some space to breathe. The pro kneeled so that he was eye level to Katsuki, and shit, what the fuck was he supposed to say?
It shouldn’t be that hard of a question. He was going to UA for Christ’s sake, the best hero school in the nation. He was in a hero agency right the fuck now . He was talking to the 4th ranked pro hero in the nation. Why the fucking hell was this such a hard question? Of fucking course he was-
-he was a hero...
...wasn’t he?
All he could see was fucking Deku and his terrified face as he burned his notebook to ashes, as he told him to jump off the roof.
How the hell else was he supposed to deal with that damn nerd?
Especially when the quirkless moron was spouting shit about going to UA to take the entrance exam?
The fucking asshole was going to get himself killed!
What other ch-
“Katsuki?” Jeanist had a hand on his shoulder. The same hand that has that mark . He shook him gently, pulling him from his thoughts. The hero noticed the more focused look in Katsuki’s eyes and continued. “You are a hero, I know that. Sorry, that I didn’t make my intentions more clear.” His brow was still furrowed with concern. “You are a hero, and I may know that, because I know you. However, the person walking down the street only knows you from the media, and the way you act in front of them.” Jeanist sighed. “I only meant to say that you don’t have to pretend. I can see qualities any good hero needs within you, you just need to draw them out.”
He hated how good hearing that made him feel, he hated that his words had affected him so deeply the first time. Is this the soul bond, is there something unnatural making me feel so susceptible to what he’s saying?
Whatever it was Katsuki hated it. He hated caring what his opinion was, because his opinion was the only one he could guarantee was that of his soul parent.
….why was that still getting to him? So what, the hero had a fancy mark on his wrist? What’s the big deal? Does that suddenly make his opinion on Katsuki mean something?
Fucking
Hell
Jeanist decided to add one last statement to his lecture, while Katsuki processed his thoughts. “The only difference between a hero and a villain, is how they use their quirks. You can choose to be a good hero, and nobody can make that choice for you.” Jeanist paused, giving Katsuki time to say something but what the hell should he say. Should he agree? Should he argue? Should he stay quiet?
All he could see was Deku’s stupid face, and hear his mother’s voice telling him how horrible he was. What a horrible child to be bound to for eternity…
..horrible…
..rotten..
..brat…
...demon spawn
...the fucking devil incarnate…
“Katsuki.” The hero’s voice was softer this time, he placed his other hand on his opposite shoulder. God how pathetic must I look to make him wear that expression? The concern was still there, but the man was clearly trying to steady Katsuki. When had he started shaking? He was trembling like a leaf. What the fucking hell is wrong with me today? They were alone in the room, just the two of them. It was silent, except for the two of them. It was like they were wrapped up in their own little world, apart from the rest of reality.
Why is he acting so nice, why the actual hell is he being so nice?
Stuff like this doesn’t normally bother me. Why now?
Katsuki knew why, that mark had given validation to everything that his mother had done to him over the years. That was undeniable proof that the marks were real. That’s why, that’s why it meant so much more when he called him a villain, so much so that for a min he actually believed him.
“Tell me what’s going on?” Jeanist gave his shoulders a comforting squeeze. Katsuki’s determination shattered a little at that. It was such an easy way out, stop fighting and let him take over, let him ask questions until he was satisfied. He took a shaky breath, why the hell was he out of breath?
I’m freaking the hell out because my soul parent is right in front of me and I’d convinced myself that they didn't exist. That’s why I’m freaking the fuck out.
He’s right here, just say something .
Say anything…..
“Please, talk to me.” There was no disdain, no hatred, annoyance, or fear. There was no frustration or anger, his voice was soft and reassuring. Jeanist gently shook his shoulders to accentuate the plea. His willpower that was keeping him stubbornly in place buckled, collapsing before him.
Katsuki spoke before he could think about what he’s saying.
“Your wrist, it has a mark on it. I think it’s mine.”
Fuck
Fuck my life.
Oh my fucking god you didn’t actually just say that aloud. Way to go, you couldn’t have been even just a bit more subtle.
Jeanist’s eyes widened as he looked instinctively to the mark just on his wrist, perfectly covered in most cases, except for the once that he hadn’t been paying attention. He looked back to Katsuki with a strange implacable expression.
They stared at each other, and Katsuki could feel his nerve wilting under Jeanist’s soft gaze. Katsuki really couldn’t remember the last person to look at him this way. He figured it must have been Auntie Inko, she was the only person that came to mind.
Without a word, Jeanist finally pulled his sleeve up to show the mark properly. The mark was just a bit larger than a nickel and on the center of his inner wrist, it was two colored, the black explosion contrasting sharp on the pale complexion of his skin that never saw the light of day.
Katsuki could feel it again, it was a faint sensation. It was like a realization, like it had been a long time coming. He had always held all the pieces, but he never knew what picture he was looking at. He stared at it wonder, feeling more than a little awestruck. He almost wanted to touch it but he suddenly and jarringly remembered how soaked his hands were. He quickly pointed his palms away and sparked off the excess nitroglycerin.
Jeanist blinked at the action but otherwise didn’t comment as Katsuki moved on to tug on his collar.
“I’m like 95-ish percent sure that’s my mark.” Katsuki hated how timid he sounded, the gruff gravel was still in his tone but it was softened by uncertainty, the sharp bite to his tone entirely absent. The embarrassment from speaking out was quickly fading in favor of itchy nervousness. “I’ve got a few marks and I’m sure one of them has got to be yours.”
Hearing the waves of his voice Jeanist quickly assured him “Only show me if you truly want to, please don’t feel obligated to.” Katsuki brushed the comment aside.
“It’s not like any of them are in uncomfortable places, there’s no reason not to.” Katsuki commented absently. “Plus, I'll drive myself insane if I don’t make sure.”
He pulled back his collar to reveal the first mark on his collarbone. It was the green key, and Katsuki showed it to the other hero who raised his eyebrows in surprise, but there was no recognition there.
“That’s a soulmark? I’ve never heard of one that color.” Jeanist asked in curiosity.
Katsuki covered that one up, and moved on to the one on his ankle. He shoved off his boot and rolled up his pant leg to reveal the black cat. Jeanist shook his head softly and Katsuki’s stomach dropped.
Was he really just imagining things?
Was it all in his head?
Did he just make an utter fool out of himself for nothing?
The only mark left was…
A thought occurred to Katsuki, it was a horrible thought. The only way to find out was to show him. Katsuki pulled up his shirt to reveal the last mark on his lower abdomen.
It was the needle and thread, the mark his mother swore was hers. It was the mark she had used to keep him prisoner with her. Many times it was the only reason he didn’t walk away, or tell someone about what it was like at home. It was his soul bond, it was dictated by fate. So why would anyone be able to stop it, even if they tried?
Even if he hadn’t truly believed in them, he hadn’t disbelieved in them either. It was enough to keep him still, with nowhere else to go.
Jeanist looked at the mark and somehow his posture softened further, and a wide grin erupted across his face. He could practically feel the radiating joy and comfort from the hero.
No
No, fucking way.
He couldn’t believe it, his mother was a horrible manipulative bitch on the best of days but this .
What she had said had done its job, it was intended to make him stay fucking put, to prevent him from questioning her and questioning freedom from her. That’s exactly what it fucking did.
How many times during his childhood did he walk right up to fucking Izuku’s house to tell him or to tell Auntie Inko? How many times did I turn around, figuring that they couldn’t possibly understand? That they wouldn’t do anything because he believed it was his fucking fate, that he fucking deserved every second of it.
He watched Jeanist looking at him like Deku used to look at him, before Katsuki had gotten his quirk. He was looking at him like he was the center of the universe and it was way too damn much to death with.
He couldn’t tell how he felt, he felt a little sick like he wanted to vomit as a cold pit of horror settled in his gut, and scream bloody fucking murder at his mother for screwing with his head like that. He really wanted to break out laughing, a little but hysterically because well fuck if her plan didn’t fucking backfire. He’d never trust her again after this, her or his father. If he could help it, he’d spend as little time there as he was able so he could get rid of them as soon as possible.
There was also a metric ton of relief flooded over him. He wasn’t bound to her for life, he didn’t have to listen to her spit those hateful things anymore, or at least he wouldn’t believe them. He just had to bear it a few more years and he could be rid of her, rid of the both of them, forever.
A small part of his mind quietly admitted to him that he was glad he could be different than she was, that he had a chance to be the hero he wanted to be. Not the villain she had convinced him he was.
More than that, most importantly, his real true soul parent believed that he could be a hero. The number four hero who was sitting right in front of him, looking at him like he was taking in the most important thing in the world, the hyper attention made him feel weak with insecurity.
They stared at each other just like that, neither knowing the gravity of the revelations that the other was sorting through. The moment passed quickly and Jeanist pulled him into an awkward hug considering he was still kneeling on the ground and Katsuki was still in the chair.
Katsuki could feel the gentle reverence in the hug, he could feel the simple and untainted affection in it. It was such a welcome and unfamiliar feeling that it made him sink into it, all past worries between them forgotten as they take comfort and pleasure in the simple and honest gesture.
It tore down the last of Katsuki’s composure, he let out a gasp and cried stubbornly into the embrace. He fought it the whole way through, every hiccup and sob was forced its way past the willpower holding it back. Jeanist rubbed gentle circles into his back for as long as he needed, whispering quietly to him.
They missed patrol that day, on the last day of his internship but Katsuki couldn’t bring himself to care.
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Below we have sketches I made of all of Kasuki’s Marks.
