Chapter Text
Gojo Satoru received his soulmark a week after his tenth birthday — a few small words etched over his heart — and he hated them with everything he had.
It took him a few minutes to realize what the words meant, for him and his future. He may have been ten years old, but he was more than capable of understanding the meaning behind the mark. The implications.
As a well-educated clan heir, the topic of soulmates had come up in his studies once before.
“ Soulmates are partners that you are destined to meet at least once in your life; they are the people whose souls are most compatible with you.”
This had been self-explanatory because that was the whole idea of soulmates.
“ A soulmark will appear when a person matures during their years of puberty and will vary from person to person. This soulmark will help you identify the one you are destined to find.”
Satoru had asked his tutor when it was normal for a soulmark to appear, and his tutor had answered, “Children usually receive their soulmarks between the ages of nine and thirteen.”
He had been eight then, and it only took him two years of waiting before the mark appeared. However, he hadn’t been eager to get his mark.
“The soulmark is the last thing your soulmate will ever say to you.”
Or maybe the last thing he’d say to them.
Either way, it meant death.
His eight-year-old self had lost interest in the lesson slowly after that statement. The rest of the lecture barely lingered on his mind.
Back then, Satoru thought the whole idea was stupid. How could anyone know they’d met ‘the one’ if the proof only showed up when one of them died? That was it. Just some stupid mark that the world gave humanity for some needless reason.
Now, with a soulmark of his own, he realized just how cruel the world could be.
Internally, he had wanted to fume, to scream, or maybe even cry. But he is the Gojo Clan’s heir and the owner of the Six Eyes. He would not be allowed to show such blatant displays of inelegance. It was unbecoming of him.
So, Satoru did what he always did — ignored the weight pressing against his ribs, and let the attendants prepare him like any other morning, as if his world hadn’t just shifted.
He didn’t mention his mark to anyone.
(Why would his soulmate even say that?)
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
It didn’t take long for the clan elders and the rest of the clan to hear that the young heir of the clan had received his soulmark. What with all the attendants helping Satoru with every little task, which included bathing and changing, well, they were bound to notice it eventually.
Soulmarks were not usually something paraded around and shown off, but to Satoru, the whole clan may as well have blatantly put a large sign pointing at his soulmark with all the attention that he got in the subsequent weeks.
Satoru had hated the way the whole clan had been standoffish before the whole soulmark thing and avoided him, but he hated the way they now offered their congratulations even more, seeing it as an opportunity to get closer to him.
As if they hadn't been deathly wary of him just a week prior. The load of fakes.
Eyes filled with a hunger for power and greed all vied for his favor, like hungry vipers waiting to strike at the most opportune moment. And so, Satoru did what he did best.
He let his power flow unimpeded, and warded off the insects desperately clinging on to his sleeves like desperate flies trying to feed off a fraction of his power.
This was about his soulmate, so it was his business and his only. At least those people who gossiped about his mark appearing didn’t know the contents of the soulmark.
No one else will know the words, not if he could help it.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Despite the hallowing meaning of the soulmark, Satoru found himself wondering what his soulmate would be like. Who were they? What kind of life have they lived? Were they in a situation similar to him?
Were they freer than he was?
Would they be happy to meet me?
So he spent some time thinking up the scenarios in which he would happily greet his soulmate with all the riches the world could offer. He was the future clan head after all.
That was, until he met his parents for the first time since his birth.
Supposedly, he’d been separated at birth for his own good, and for the betterment of the clan. To make sure that he grew up ‘proper’.
No one in this clan compound felt close to him, and they naturally kept their distance. Even more so after the whole soulmate thing.
But he had wondered, that perhaps, maybe he’d feel something more when he met his parents. Maybe they’d give him something other than this blank emptiness of a void that the people around him created, managed, and kept him at the epicenter.
However, he’d hoped incorrectly.
His parents were impersonal, indifferent, and not even a speck of that affection he sought out was present in the eyes of his parents.
They didn’t see him as their son.
They saw him as the future clan head of the esteemed Gojo clan.
Would his soulmate react the same way?
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
The clan elders had called him into a meeting a week or so after the first rumors started spreading in waves within the clan.
Satoru just sat there and listened to the old men ramble on about how the soulmark was a rite of passage, a symbol of maturity. Yada yada. Lots of useless blabbering. He was bored out of his mind, and could almost taste the blandness of the voices speaking in hushed tones.
However, what brought Satoru back to the conversation was when the elders started discussing arranging a marriage with a daughter of some official with a high standing within the clan.
At first, Satoru was confused.
“What about me? If I’m getting married, should I get a say in this? What about my soulmate —”
Satoru repressed the urge to shrink back at the eyes of an elder who had turned his dark, cruel eyes on Satoru.
“For the sake of the clan’s future, you must listen to what we elders tell you. This is for your own good. You will not find your soulmate anyway. By the time you do, they will have died. You should forget them and marry a suitable, well-bred girl to settle with and continue the Gojo line.”
Satoru blinked owlishly at that and all he could think was, of course.
This world is not fair.
Satoru didn’t question the elders again as they continued in their discussions about potential brides among them, as if he weren’t there. He couldn’t care less what they had to say. It’s not like he’d actually listen to whatever consensus they end up with anyway.
Sitting quietly, Satoru thought about the words the elder said.
‘Soulmates are not found until the moment of death.’
Right.
All Satoru could do was stare at the ground as the old people chattered in the background, mulling over the words written over his heart.
“At least curse me a little at the very end.”