Chapter Text
He didn’t manage to get everything together, but that’s fine. Izumi— Mankai —can always send the rest after he’s settled in America, along with yet another desperate attempt to get his father to change his mind.
Or maybe they’ll give up by then. Hopefully. It’s getting kind of annoying hearing his dad tell them again and again that they don’t get a say in Masumi’s life; it’s why he left without saying goodbye in the first place. (…And maybe he’s tired of getting his hopes up, that maybe this time his dad will listen.)
He really is gonna miss them, isn’t he? Fuck, that’s annoying. He kind of wishes this had happened last year, before he learned that everyone at Mankai—everyone in Spring Troupe— was probably just as lonely as he was. Before he found a real family.
His father’s secretary says nothing, just casts him a halfway-sympathetic look via the rearview mirror. God, Masumi never thought he’d miss Spring Troupe’s loud-ass car rides. The noisy car rides and the chaotic rehearsals and Sakuya’s weird ideas for new Mankai traditions…
Huh. Speaking of Sakuya’s ideas, he hasn’t thought about the soulmark thing in a long time.
During Romijuli, when Sakuya insisted that they all sleep on the stage for bonding or whatever, he suggested they all draw their soulmarks on each other. To “keep the troupe together,” or something like that. Masumi was kind of an ass back then—still is kind of an ass, if he’s being honest—Itaru wanted nothing to do with the whole thing, and even Citron seemed kind of uncomfortable with the idea, so Sakuya dropped it, laughing it off and changing the subject.
It didn’t matter, not really; Masumi’s known soulmates aren’t real since the first time he tried to draw Izumi’s soulmark next to his own, and Sakuya admitted he doesn’t really believe in it either. It’s not like anyone ever brought it up again.
But right as Sakuya changed the subject, Masumi had caught the barest glimpse of something he almost never sees on him, something he only notices when Sakuya talks about his foster families or something threatens the family they’ve found at Mankai: heartbreak.
And if there’s one thing he’s learned from Romijuli, it’s that Sakuya’s been through enough heartbreak without Masumi’s help.
He hates adding to it now, but what else can he do? It’s not like he can talk his father out of this..
But…
Masumi knows Sakuya’s soulmark by heart at this point, from rehearsals and wake-up calls and something Masumi hasn’t really had the desire to process, let alone name. It’s simple enough to draw. It’s not like anyone would notice, anyway, not if he just traces it without a pen or a marker.
It’s a small act of rebellion, one no one other than him would know about. (Well, except maybe his father’s secretary, but he’s too focused on navigating to spy on him through the rearview mirror, and Masumi’s pretty sure the guy wouldn’t know what a soulmark is even if he was staring directly at it.)
So he traces it, petal by petal, intertwining with his own mark, marred by bumps and turns on a trip he can’t possibly object to. There. Now, even if he’s far from Mankai and even if he can’t directly see it, he’s always connected to his…his…
His something. His best friend? His partner in performance? His something else entirely?
His Sakuya, he settles on, after far too much thought. It’s the simplest way to describe him.
(In the pre-dawn sky, even though there’s no ink to seep into his skin, Masumi swears he can see the image of Sakuya’s soulmark tangled up with his own, fucked-up outline from his clumsy drawing and all.)
---
Masumi realizes four things outside of the Tokyo airport:
First, that Mankai can be terrifyingly convincing when they want to be.
Second, that maybe his father isn’t entirely beyond reasoning.
Third, that the ghost of Sakuya’s soulmark on the back of his hand is somehow all too real even once the sun peeks out from below the horizon.
And fourth, and probably the most terrifying of them all, that his own soulmark is blazoned on Sakuya’s cheek, like it’s supposed to be there.
For half a second, he wishes that he was on his father’s flight to America, just so he wouldn’t have to deal with this.
---
“It seems Sakuya has a secret admirer!” Citron chirps.
Masumi nearly chokes on his dinner. Fuck, he knew someone was bound to notice, but couldn’t it have happened when Masumi wasn’t here?
He tugs the sleeve of his hoodie over his own soulmark. Just in case.
“Didn’t think anyone still believed in that cliche,” Itaru replies. “Soulmates are bs, everyone knows that.”
“Ah, don’t be such a prick in the mud, Itaru!!”
“Stick,” Masumi grumbles, since his roommate isn’t here to correct Citron himself.
Chikage chuckles. “Does it matter all that much? Whether they’re real or not, soulmates are far more trouble than they’re worth.”
Itaru and Citron nod in agreement, and Masumi finds himself nodding along with them, even if he’s pretty sure his reasoning is different from theirs.
Masumi can’t help but feel like the three of them are seeing right through him.
---
Huh! His soulmark was a lot smaller yesterday, wasn’t it?
Sakuya scrubs his cheek, in case someone’s playing a prank on him. No, no ink’s rubbing off, which means…
Wait, is all that soulmate stuff real? He just assumed it was superstitious nonsense.
(Yes, he wanted Spring Troupe to draw their soulmarks on each other, but he didn’t expect anything to stick. It was more about the symbolism of it all, and it didn’t actually matter in the long run, anyway: they’re a unit, now, whether or not they share their soulmarks.)
Okay. So someone drew his soulmark on themselves, some time in the last 24 hours. It probably can’t be a fan, because Kazunari and Banri keep close tabs on any social media buzz surrounding Mankai, and there’s no way they wouldn’t have found out about it. (And judging by the ten thousand omg look Tenma Sumeragi is my soulmate!!! tweets they scour through per day, a fan wouldn’t keep it to themself anyway.)
Come to think of it, how much attention was he paying the last few days, anyway? He’s been so preoccupied with Masumi leaving that he only really had time to think once they were all sure Masumi was here to stay. It easily could have happened any time over the past week without Sakuya noticing.
He traces over the lines of his soulmark’s newest addition. It looks kind of clumsily-drawn, like he’d taken a marker to his own face and put it there himself. Actually, is he sure he didn’t draw it on himself? He’s been out of it, and it does look kind of familiar…
“Oh. Hey.”
Sakuya catches Masumi’s eyes reflected in the mirror, staring back at him. God, he must look silly, right? Masumi doesn’t pay attention to anyone else’s soulmark, just Izumi’s; for all he knows, Masumi probably assumes nothing’s changed and Sakuya’s just pining or something.
Sakuya turns to face him, grinning. “Welcome home, Masumi.” It comes out a bit more wistful than he’d intended, but that’s just the relief from yesterday crashing down on him, he figures.
Masumi blinks. “Right. I’m home” He just keeps looking at Sakuya. “That’s…new.”
“Hm?”
Sakuya watches him fuss with one of his sleeves. (It’s getting warmer, but Masumi’s still wearing his hoodie…) “The mark.”
Oh! He did notice! Sakuya can’t help grinning at that.
“Yeah, it…” He giggles nervously. (Why exactly is he nervous? It’s just Masumi…) “I’m not sure when it changed, honestly. I’ve been so busy I only noticed this morning…”
Sakuya swears he can see Masumi get less tense on the spot. “Makes sense. A lot happened the past couple days.” There’s an unspoken because of me that Sakuya still picks up on, because at this point he knows Masumi better than anyone else at Mankai. (Maybe better than he knows himself, some days.)
“Hey. I’m just glad you’re here for good, okay?” Sakuya reaches for his hand—the one covered by Masumi’s sleeve—squeezing lightly. (Oh, he’s all stiff again…) “That makes all the stress worth it!”
The cuff of Masumi’s sleeve pulls back, and as Sakuya lets go, he sees Masumi’s soulmark, an almost-perfect echo of his own.
Their eyes meet again.
Sakuya knows Masumi better than anyone else, but he can’t get a read on what he’s thinking right now. Honestly, he can’t figure out what he himself is feeling.
So he lets the conversation drop entirely, each of them ducking back into their respective rooms. Sakuya can take care of this whenever he figures himself out.
---
Masumi Usui, to no one’s apparent surprise except his own, is not in love with Izumi Tachibana. He owes Tsumugi an apology. (Which would be annoying if it was anyone other than Tsumugi. Or Sakuya, actually.)
Well, actually, that’s unfair to himself. On some level he must’ve realized that before now, because it’s fucking stupid to realize you’re not in love with someone only because someone else is your soulmate. (Especially because Winter Troupe collects soulmates like they’re cards in whatever gacha game caught Itaru’s attention this time.) He just…stuck with the idea out of habit.
In one of Muku’s manga, in one of the dramas that Mankai loves to fawn over while he’s trying to nap in the lounge, this is probably the point where he’d realize he’s in love with Sakuya, or some bullshit like that. That he’s been in denial for, what, a year? Since Romijuli?
But that’s the thing. There’s no dramatic realization, no moment where everything clicks into place. Because Masumi is still as fucking confused as he was when he drew the damn soulmark.
God. Everything was way easier when he could look at someone who seemed to care about him for once and just decide he was in love with them. Now he actually has to think about—
“Can you not think so loud while I’m trying to write?” Tsuzuru asks. “The brooding is so distracting.”
Masumi shoves a granola bar in Tsuzuru’s mouth. Maybe you’ll think better if you eat, Tsuzuru.
Anyway.
They need to talk about it, don’t they? The specifics are kind of lost on him, even after Tsumugi’s ten thousand explanations—okay, it was only like ten—but if it’s serious enough to be the subject of almost every love story he could find, then…
But Masumi knows Sakuya way too well, and there’s no way in hell Sakuya will bring it up first. He probably thinks Masumi will freak out and leave for real, this time. Like Sakuya’s not…
Something. There he goes, getting stuck again. What is Sakuya to him? Something different than the rest of Mankai, different than Izumi or his parents or even his grandmother…
Important, he settles on. Sakuya’s important. He’s not entirely sure how, but he is.
But it’s an unfinished thought, and it’s…not really fair for Masumi to bring up their soulmarks right now, not when he’s still confused about why and how exactly Sakuya’s important to him.
He sighs. Sorry, Tsuzuru, he’s gonna be thinking for a while longer.
---
Sakuya really does mean to talk to him about it. But then Izumi and Chikage vanish, and he’s so preoccupied with keeping the show on track that he can’t really think about anything else even after they stumble back into the dorms with the world’s worst excuses.
And then Summer Troupe and Autumn Troupe have their own shows, and the new members (and their respective problems) are enough cause for distraction.
And then Citron returns to Zafra, and no one can focus on something as minor as soulmates, so Sakuya tells himself he’ll put it off until after Winter Troupe’s show (and Citron’s surprise rescue).
And by that point, it’s almost time for Spring’s turn on the stage again, so he’ll tackle it once Kniroun is done.
But, then again, he might as well wait until the full round of fifth plays are done.
And by that point, it’s almost time for Spring’s sixth play, and that’s way more important.
And then they start preparing for mixed troupe plays, and Masumi’s graduation, and so many reruns, so they both have more than enough on their plate to worry about a silly superstition.
And there’s no use in complicating things when they have an act-off to worry about, right?
And before Sakuya even notices, a year has gone by, Masumi’s preparing for his second lead role, and the two of them are still dancing around the matter.
---
The door to room 101 flings open; Sakuya doesn’t have to look up from his script to know it’s Masumi, because Citron’s never that harsh about it and everyone else tends to knock.
Masumi grabs Citron’s chair, pulling it up next to Sakuya’s own but not actually saying anything. He looks…troubled. Is preparing for Magician’s Pure Love that upsetting?
Masumi’s never been the most talkative, and Sakuya’s often happy just to spend time with him without talking, but the silence stretches on long enough to be uncomfortable.
“Masumi?” Sakuya dares to ask. “Is everything okay?”
Masumi nods, pauses, then shakes his head. “Just been thinking.”
The answer dawns on Sakuya at long last. “Oh, it’s because of the play, isn’t it?” Since Kiel has to let go of his first love, Masumi’s probably thinking about the—almost certain, if they’re being honest—possibility of Izumi finding someone else. No wonder he’s upset.
“I asked Tsuzuru for this kind of ending,” Masumi replies, “it’s not like I was surprised.”
“So it’s something else then?”
Masumi breathes in, breathes out, looks no less tense than he had when he sat down. “I don’t know if Kiel’s feelings were love. It’s more like how I feel about Izumi, and that’s not…” He sighs. “I don’t know a lot about love, I guess.”
Huh. So Sakuya got it all wrong, then.
“I mean…” Sakuya trails off, realizing that he doesn’t really know what to say. He’s in kind of the same boat Masumi is.
What is love, anyway?
Sakuya’s first thought is conditional; dependent on how good, kind, helpful, respectful you are. But Mankai’s seen him at his worst, seen everyone at their worst, and never stopped caring, and, really, he let go of that assumption after Romijuli ended anyway. Just old, bad thoughts bubbling back up to the surface.
So what is it, then? It’s not as simple as just caring about someone, he thinks; he cares about his foster parents, but he wouldn’t exactly say he loves them. Love feels…grander than that.
Maybe he could use Mankai as a springboard? If they’ve seen him at his worst, and they still love him, then…wouldn’t love be knowing someone inside and out, their sharp edges and soft spots, and still staying by their side?
Maybe it’s spending so much time scared of losing someone that you miss something as important as finding a soulmate, some strange, overly-analytical part of his brain supplies. Right. That.
“I guess I’m still trying to figure it out myself,” Sakuya admits. It’s a statement and a confession: I don’t quite know what love is and I don’t quite know if I love you, all wrapped into one sentence. Even if Masumi probably won’t pick up on that last part.
Masumi nods, but it’s painfully obvious that that doesn’t solve his problem. Dammit, Sakuya, be useful and help him!!!
“But I think…I think there’s different ways to love someone, you know? It’s like…” What’s a good metaphor he could use? “Kiel’s love for Mirage isn’t like Romeo’s for Julius, and I don’t think either of them are like what people think of when talking about it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not some kind of love!”
Oh. He’s gotten a little too close to his own confused feelings on their situation, hasn’t he?
Masumi shifts his chair the slightest bit closer. “Guess so,” he replies. If he picked up on the reasoning behind Sakuya’s choice of comparison, he sure isn’t saying it…
Sakuya really had been planning to wait on any soulmate discussion until he figured out his feelings, and he doesn’t feel any closer to a conclusion than he did when they first found out they were soulmates. But if Masumi’s as confused as Sakuya is—and from the sound of it, he really, truly is—then…
“You think Romeo and Julius were soulmates?” The question slips from his mouth before Sakuya can even process the thought.
“Tsuzuru thinks it’s all bullshit, so he wouldn’t write it that way.” Masumi frowns. “I never really thought about it past that.”
“It’d make sense, though, don’t you think? Going against what their parents had in mind for them because they found someone more important?”
Masumi stays quiet at that, eyes glancing between Sakuya and the soulmark painted onto his own wrist. Oh. Maybe Sakuya managed to land on something without even trying.
That’s when it clicks, a year later than it probably should have: did Masumi draw Sakuya’s soulmark on himself the night he tried to slip away?
Sakuya doesn’t really know how to name what he feels about that.
Really, his first impulse is to run away from the conversation, to put it on hold until he finally comes up with an answer that isn’t as vague as some kind of love. As if he hasn’t been doing that for a full year.
But Masumi kind of looks the same way, and Sakuya knows that if they don’t talk about this now, they’ll probably never get around to it. So Sakuya will swallow his nerves, bite the bullet and talk.
He takes Masumi’s hand—the one with their respective soulmarks on it—in both of his own. “That’s what happened with us, isn’t it?”
Masumi’s face flushes—embarrassment? something else entirely?—but he doesn’t actually respond. At least not out loud. Looks like it’s on Sakuya to keep this line of thought going, then…
“I don’t really know what I’m feeling, either. About…” Sakuya squeezes Masumi’s hand, like any hope of sorting out their feelings rests solely on the physical connection between them. “This.”
Masumi rests his head on Sakuya’s shoulder and sighs. (Nothing new, Sakuya’s been Masumi’s pillow plenty of times.) “I thought soulmates were supposed to be simple,” he grumbles.
One of Sakuya’s hands lets go of Masumi’s, patting his head. “Me too.” It really would be easier if soulmates, and the emotions behind the whole concept, were more straightforward…
But they can figure it out together, right?