Artistic - Tendou Satori

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This story is written by dovelair on DeviantArt

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author's note: soulmate au where whatever you write or draw on your wrist will appear on your soulmate's wrist.


*

"Don't you ever get tired of drawing that?" Semi asks, barely concealing his disgust. Beside him, Goshiki challenges Ushijima to an eating competition, somehow convincing himself that if he can't beat Ushijima in roadwork, he can perhaps surpass him by eating two servings of hayashi rice, compared to Ushijima's one serving of hayashi rice. He shovels a mouthful of rice. Ushijima does not even look up.

"Can't say it, Eita-kun?" Tendou teases, and continues scribbling on his wrist, while admiring the soft contour of his artwork. He can already tell it's going to be another masterpiece. Even Van Gogh would be proud. "And maybe my soulmate has a sense of humor."

"Or maybe your soulmate wants to kill you," he proposes, and avoids mentioning the word.

"C'mon, say it! No one's going to judge you," the middle blocker tells him gleefully, with a hint of mockery. "You already look uncool in casual clothing, what else can you possibly lose?"

"Fine, I get it already. Stop pestering me," Semi yells, frustration evident in his face. "You're drawing a d—"

"—it's a dick! This is the tenth one today, [Friend's Name]! I'm so sick of it," you exclaim, slamming your own food tray down the table. The table behind you goes silent, but you think nothing of it.

Tendou does not know which amuses him more: the fact that he had found his soulmate in such strange circumstances, or that you just yelled "dick" in a cafeteria with more than two hundred people, including teachers and other faculty members.

He chooses the latter.

"Maybe your soulmate—"

"Dickmate."

"—maybe your dickmate just really likes drawing his own genitals?"

You stab a piece of chicken with your fork. "Hmph. Well, if he loves dick that much, maybe I should shove his own dick down his throat when I meet him. See if he still likes dicks by then."

Goshiki chokes on a piece of meat. Reon, who had arrived at the table a few minutes ago, slaps his back repeatedly with an intensity that could possibly rival that of an overly protective parent—which is completely understandable, because he could actually die—and slides a glass of cold water towards him. Ushijima looks up from his meal, flashing the middle blocker a brief look of mild concern, and Tendou is suddenly overwhelmed with bliss, very much glad that he has drawn a thousand dicks to this day, if it means that he can elicit a rare expression of uneasiness from his dear ace, which is identical to encountering a shiny, legendary Pokémon on your first try. And catching it once. With a pokéball.

In translation, a miracle.

Tendou continues eavesdropping on the conversation.

"Did he only ever draw dicks?"

"He wrote 'Miracle Boy Wakatoshi!!!!' once, so I'm assuming the person is a volleyball fanatic," you replied, and added, "or maybe he's in love with Ushijima-san? That would be funny."

"What a dramatic turn of events," Tendou tells himself, and faces Ushijima, batting his eyelashes and raising his pitch a little higher. "It's true, Wakatoshi-kun. I actually have feelings for you."

"Is that so?" he replies, voice monotone and devoid of any interest in forging a romantic relationship with his teammate, which is quite unfortunate, because Tendou knows that he would be The Best Boyfriend Ever™. "I will have to reject your confession, as I do not reciprocate any feelings for you. I apologize," he adds, not sounding apologetic in the slightest.

Tendou sheds a tear. "You're such a heartbreaker."

"Okay."

Reon turns to him. "What are you going to do now?"

"Of course I'm going to reveal myself, silly. [Name]-chan's my soulmate!"

Semi's face twists in absolute horror. "But you could die—"

"Anything for love, Eita-kun."

"I know you can be exasperating sometimes, but this is beyond ridiculous and—are you even listening to me?"

"I'm guessing there's a seventy percent chance I'm going to die," he says, grabbing a thick, black marker from his pocket and drawing what appears to be yet another dick across his wrist. "If I do die, I'll leave all my Naruto manga collection to you. Please take good care of them."

"I'll shove it up your ass if I see your dead body the next day."

"Harsh. And here I thought we were best friends."

He snorts at the statement, and tries to swipe the marker from Tendou, except he's too quick, having already guessed his next movements and expertly avoiding the setter's attempts at preventing his impending death by your hands. "We are—unfortunately—which is why I'm telling you to stop drawing that dick."

"You're too late."

A loud gasp from the other table.

"[Name], look at your wrist!"

"It's another dick, isn't it? I really will murder him and—what the fuck?"

Your wrist, which once held the color of your flesh, is now stained with coal black ink. Two large circles are smeared at the base of your hand, connected by a long, cylindrical shape with a tip at the end, but the only thing in your mind is how you want to fling your soulmate to the fucking sun.

He just drew the biggest, blackest dick.

"Hey, there's something written beside it," your friend says, ever observant.

'look behind you lol'

Finally facing the man who drew a thousand dicks on your wrist, very much ready to do what needs to be done, you are greeted by the sight of flaming red hair with its own gravitational force and a mischievous grin engraved on his face. A glimpse on his wrist reveals that he is, indeed, your soulmate.

"So, uh, how about a date this Friday?"

"Not until I shove your dick down your throat."

"So is that a yes?"

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