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For as long as he could remember, Hitoshi had always had something written on his hand.
Sometimes it was writing, like little notes so as not to forget to do something or even, and it was most often even if he would pretend the opposite, words directly addressed to Hitoshi.
However, most often, they were small drawings. They were almost always different things, except for the little rabbit. He always came back.
But they all had one thing in common. The drawings were in all colors: pens, markers, highlighters, everything was used.
His hands were always so full that he even forgot what his bare hands looked like.
Still, it didn't matter. Over time, Hitoshi had grown to love all of his scribbles.
It's a shame he had to hide them.
His guardians, not his parents, had always told him that. A monster like him didn't deserve a soulmate. He knew that. And had since he was five.
This was the age when the marks began to appear.
And barely had he reached the age when his hands were already covered. But he had never responded. Not once had he shown any sign of life.
No one deserved a monster like him.
_
Six-year-old Izuku loved to draw on his arms. They mostly drew animals, but his favorite was the rabbit.
A little blue rabbit.
Oddly enough, without really knowing why, it was his favorite color. Although that didn't stop him from using all the colors.
By the end of the day, his arms were full of his drawings.
His own.
And never those of his soulmate.
His mother had smiled at him and told him that his soulmate might be younger than him. So the drawings didn't appear.
But Izuku felt it. He knew his soulmate was receiving his drawings. His whole body was screaming at him.
And he was happy.
If his soulmate needed time before making contact with him, then he would wait as long as it took. Even if it took years.
This is his promise.
_
But in middle school, Hitoshi found himself increasingly tempted to make his presence felt. It was probably because he was at the age of rebellion, as the adults joked.
And then, almost all of his classmates were in relationships. While in elementary school, his classmates just smiled at the drawings and found them funny, by middle school they had discovered the true meaning of the word love.
And they were increasingly looking for their soul mate.
But not Hitoshi.
He would lie if he never wanted to, but he was too afraid of reprisals...
Unlike normal drawings, soulmate marks couldn't be erased. They only disappeared when midnight struck, and all the drawings from the last twenty-four hours disappeared.
As if they never existed.
His guardians forced him to go to bed at midnight to make sure he didn't write anything on his arms, the only places where the drawings appeared. Every day, they looked at his arms several times to make sure he hadn't tried anything.
He knew that his guardians would immediately recognize his handwriting or drawings, since those of his soulmate shone...
In short, he had no chance.
All his rebellious thoughts flew away at once, as if they had never existed.
But they were there, deep inside him.
_
Izuku could feel it. His arms were itching.
But every time he looked, no drawing appeared.
Not even a speck, nothing. Over time, he'd always left an empty space on his hands for his soulmate. After all, it would be silly if his soulmate wanted to talk to him but didn't have the space.
Yet, nothing. The only thing he felt was his slight itching.
But he was happy, his soulmate was there, alive and well.
And Izuku would wait, just like he had promised so many years ago.
_
Hitoshi would be lying if he said he wasn't worried.
Lately, his hands were becoming increasingly empty. And when drawings appeared, they were only one color.
Often it was blue.
His guardians told him that his soulmate had apparently finally seen reason. That he was no longer interested in him.
And maybe that was true. After all, he'd never shown his presence. Perhaps his soulmate thought he was dead.
Hitoshi wouldn't be surprised.
Yet he knew there was something else.
He was tempted to pick up a pencil and write to her. His guardians were less vigilant, so with a bit of luck he wouldn't get caught.
He didn't.
_
Izuku wasn't in a happy place in his life. No, it was quite the opposite.
His stalkers made his life hell.
But he was used to it. After all, ever since his Quirkless diagnosis had been made, everyone had started bothering him.
The main person was his best friend. Well, if he could still call him that...
But lately, they were always pestering him. So much so, that he didn't have time in class to draw on his arms.
And when he wanted to do it at home, it was impossible. His arms were covered in burns, and he couldn't write without crying out in pain...
He was glad his soulmate didn't feel his pain. Otherwise, he would resent himself for the rest of his life and wouldn't be able to look him in the eye.
But the worst part? When he wrote on his arms, he could only do it with a blue pen.
His classmates had stolen all his writing utensils, but had been kind enough to leave him a simple ballpoint pen.
He didn't want to ask his mother to buy him more. The reason was that despite what she said, their budget was pretty tight. And what would have been the point if his bullies took them back afterward?
At least he could count himself lucky that the pen was his favorite color...
_
Hitoshi had always told himself he would contact his soulmate at eighteen. When he finally left home and could talk to him without fear of punishment.
But apparently, that was going to have to change.
Hitoshi lay on the floor of his room, unable to move. He was covered in blood, his own.
His breathing was raspy, and he could barely breathe because of his muzzle.
He was going to die, he was certain of it.
He looked at his wrist, which, ironically, was the only part of his body he could move without screaming his head off.
He should never have gotten out of bed this morning.
Hitoshi almost sighed if he didn't have a muzzle preventing him. It wasn't the first time; he was used to it.
Yet, even after all the times he was covered in blood, this was the first time he feared for his life.
And that's probably what pushed him to act.
For the first time in his fourteen years of life, he wrote to his soulmate.
_
Izuku was outside when he felt his arm itch. He almost didn't really notice; it happened a lot after all.
But it wasn't the same feeling as usual.
He stopped walking and lifted his sleeve. At first, he didn't see anything. Not because there was nothing written on it, no, it was more because it was dark.
But after he activated his goggles that allowed him to see in the dark he froze at the sight.
His soulmate had indeed written to him, for the first time in nine years of waiting. And the first thing he gave her was an address.
In writing made with blood.
_
Hitoshi woke up. And it was the first time in his life that he was so happy about it.
"Kid?"
His heart skipped a beat. Someone was in the room with him. And he was sure he'd never heard the voice.
"It's okay, kid. You're safe. You're in the hospital."
At the hospital. So he wasn't home anymore? His guardians were arrested? His interlocutor had said he understood what he was thinking, given his answer.
"Your guardians have been arrested. Until we find you a family, you will stay with me and my husband."
Hitoshi couldn't believe his ears. Someone wanted him? He almost cried, but he wasn't that kind of person.
For the first time since the conversation, he turned to face the person he was going to live with.
"I'm Shota Aizawa... also known as Eraserhead."
He nodded, he didn't know the hero. But that explained why he was in the room with him.
"Are you the one who saved me?"
The hero blinked. He must have thought Hitoshi wasn't ready to talk. He must have found him with his muzzle on...
But Aizawa seemed embarrassed when he asked the question.
"Actually, no. Look at your arm, kid."
Hitoshi blinked, before doing as the man asked.
I will wait for you as long as you need.
Green rabbit.
And if Hitoshi wasn't smiling, it would be a lie.