Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For years, Klein has had fountain pen ink relentlessly staining his fingers. Whether his soulmate was an avid author or just clumsy, he didn't know.

It had taken him a while to realise it wasn't just his own ink, accumulating from late nights of writing essays by dim gas light, but rather the marks of a future partner.

A soulmate.

In this world, it wasn't uncommon for marks to appear, pairing one to their other half, but they weren't a born connection. The current theory was it was a link borne when two people with matching souls passed each other. The exact distance, the exact delay, no one knew. It wasn't an exact science.

There were many cases where ones marks appeared years before ever saying hello to their soulmate. In such a world with so many people, it was incredibly difficult to notice and match the marks to an encounter. Even more so when neither partner had anything particularly distinguishing upon meeting.

And so, it had taken a while for Klein to notice, and he had no idea really of when it started.

He believed that the ink most likely came from another student at university, but such a vague description made it rather difficult to track his partner down amidst all the essays and such.

Therefore, he felt that it was something best left to fate. They would run into each other again, being soulmates. That was how it worked, so the romantics said. And if the romantics were wrong in this, then a soulmate surely can't be as much as all that.

And so here he was, writing an essay on the role of Fourth Epoch Asymmetry in distinguishing class through fashion, and gently rubbing his eyelids from the late hour.

Yawning slightly, he reached out for his glass of water, and then completely knocked it over.

'...'

Klein silently scorned himself at the sight.

His beautiful, almost finished essay, now a damp haze on a ruined notebook that had cost a total of 4 soli. He would have to dry it out and save any pages he could, Professor Quentin surely wouldn't mind him turning in wrinkled pages for the rest of the term would he?

While the water had spared the library books laid about the table, it had rather annoyingly spilt all over his sleeve, the soggy wetness waking him up with its chill.

Klein frowned as he undid the cuff button and rolled the sleeve up in an attempt to distance his body from the cold, only to see a harsh gash on the arm underneath as he did so.

His soulmate was injured?

Klein scrutinised the wound mark. He wasn't an expert in the matter, only understanding basic first aid, but it didn't look good. The gash was nearly three inches long. Being superficial, he couldn't tell how deep it was, but it surely wasn't merely a scratch.

After a minute of staring, Klein sent a quick prayer to The Goddess to bless his soulmate with good luck (or the absence of bad luck) and packed up his items.

No more work could be done without fresh paper, and there was nothing more he could do for his soulmate.

...

After this incident, Klein took to inspecting his body whenever he had the chance, looking under sleeves and checking his chest, twisting his neck to see his back. What he discovered shocked him.

Frequently, his soulmate would gain a gash, or a mark. Bruises, cuts, scrapes, and even stitches often appeared on his skin along with the less offensive ink stains. These marks most often appeared in late at night, but not always.

This alone was rather concerning.

One night, after another late essay, Klein found that his undressing for bed revealed a series of deep green and almost black bruises all over his chest. It was if he had been struck by something blunt, solid, and with a lot of force. Instinctively, Klein winced when he saw the sight.

An injury like that... It most likely would create the most damage inside the body. What is visible on the skin only shows a small portion of the pain.

Nonetheless, Klein didn't worry about it, and quickly completed his bedtime routine before dozing off peacefully.

There was exactly one reason for his nonchalance. And that was, that these marks would always disappear by morning!

While rather confusing at first, Klein had concluded that there was no way for such injuries, if real, to heal so fast unless his soulmate was superhuman.

Of course, this wasn't possible, so that only left one option.

The injuries were fake!

As to why and how, he figured that his soulmate was probably an actor of sorts. It wasn't uncommon for makeup to be used on stage to give the effect of injuries to the actor, befitting of the role. As to why the marks were never the same twice, or why his face never got covered with stage makeup, Klein didn't worry about it. He simply lacked the relevant information.

And it was in this way that Klein Moretti finished his final year of university, and graduated with a diploma in history.

。。。✧✧✧ 。。。

The original Klein Moretti thought his soulmate might be an actor, but I have a better theory. His soulmate is probably trying to get my concern! By faking injuries, she might instigate my searching for her. In this way, our union might be expedited. How needy.

But as I am first and foremost Zhou Mingrui, from the era of the internet, I absolutely can't get involved with any soulmates in this place anyway.

After reaching such a resolution, Klein sighed to himself and silently sent his condolences to the unknown soulmate.

Regarding the matter of leaving her alone, he didn't feel too guilty. After all, there was another theory that was rather well accepted by the masses.

That was, that a soulmate wasn't that singular one fated person, but rather someone to whom a good chemistry would undoubtedly form. Once such a person was detected by the bodies involved, they would reach out and link to each other.

In other words, there were many options out there, and it was because only the first one would be linked, a person would never know about any others.

Therefore, as the original Klein Moretti had fused with Zhou Mingrui, and his personality would be slightly different, it wasn't impossible that both of their bodies would recognise the change and break the soulmate link. In this case, Klein's current soulmate would form another with the next compatible person she met.

As for if Klein formed a new bond, he also didn't need to worry about it. The moment he returned to his own world that bond would surely break as well, freeing that person from him.

It was only if the marks continued to appear in the same manner that he would need to investigate further.

。。。✧✧✧ 。。。

Two weeks later, Klein found himself looking at his reflection in the mirror. 

Pursing his lips, he inspected the conspicous cut marring his shoulder. He found that a growing annoyance accompanied each of these marks that formed on his skin.

And yet, this was for a completely different reason that one might expect.

Yes, the soulmate link hadn't broken. But it turns out there was something even more annoying about the whole situation. 

And that was that, he was getting increasingly, quite certain, of who the other was.

Leonard Mitchell...

The name brought a sly smile to his lips. That damned poet hadn't stopped being suspiscously gay ever since Klein had officially joined the Nighthawks. From leaning in close, whispering about 'special dispositions~', and placing a far too friendly arm around his shoulder, Leonard simply had not been letting up in his pursuit.

Frankly, it was embarrasing to watch. Even moreso to be the object of such... Attention.

Klein scoffed as he buttoned up his night shirt the rest of the way.

He thought again of the metaphorical evidence folder he had collected.

Firstly, it was the ink marks. Klein had noticed dark stains along Leonard's fingers during their second meeting, if the brushing past each other in the stairwell could be counted as a first. A midnight poet, he had been introduced as. A fitting explanation for both the constant writing and carelessness while doing so.

Without placing their hands side by side, it would be difficult to be certain that the marks were exactly identical, and not merely coincidental.

Klein wouldn't have thought too much of it at that time, if not for how queer that fellow had acted. He previously hadn't considered that his soulmate link would bond him to a man, but Leonard seemed to prove that it wasn't impossible.

And so he had begun to piece together more information. 

To his horror, his little theory had quickly turned rather plausible.

Large injuries that fade suddenly within hours, never the same twice in a row? This perfectly matched his understanding of the activity and abilities of the Nighthawks. He suspected that if he reached through the dossiers and cross referenced it with his diary, he might even find more confirmation of this case.

And now his shoulder - from today's mission most certainly. Klein had overheard in the break room that the outcome had been quite good. For a Sequence 8 Rampager, the only injury had been a 'minor' wound belonging to Leonard. (Minor by the standards of Nighthawks, of course.)

Needy, Klein had called Leonard before meeting him. Now he was realising just how close he had been. The man was so clingy, Klein got the strange feeling that he suspected their link too. He only dreaded Leonard deciding enough was enough and writing a declaration on his own face.

Now that would be difficult to feign ignorance to.

It was a shame, perhaps the original Klein would have enjoyed such an act. But Klein was sure that bemusement was the best reaction Leonard would get from him.

Perhaps he would do some research into breaking soulmate bonds after all. That is, if Leonard stopped annoying him enough to let him feel a sense of guilt about the matter.

Chapter Text

Leonard long suspected that the occasional scuffs on his skin were from a soulmate.


Of course, he had no basis behind this reasoning aside from pure romanticism, but, he was a poet after all. It was only fitting he had the wistfulness to match.


Whenever a bruise or scrape appeared that he didn't recall getting, he immediately attributed it to his future lover~. The few times he remarked on such things out loud though, he would always promptly be scoffed at.


"Another papercut... Is my soulmate working hard again?"


"Fool. Didn't you get that yourself when you almost dropped that report."


"... Old Man, can't I dream a little?"


"Hah. Stop getting distracted by a non existent bond and start focusing on the acting method. When was the last time you even wrote a poem?"


"..."


Leonard sighed. It simply wasn't fair. He had been longing for his fortuitous encounter throughout his teenage years, and still held some hope in the matter. Unfortunately, the only encounter he had was with this resident in his mind. 


Still, he was quite useful at times, and very knowledgeable. When he wasn't grumbling like an old man that is.


The aspiring poet glanced at his planner. The line at the top read 27th June. Aside from that, there was nothing. It was the case for the previous 26 pages, and all the preceding months in the year. He fiddled with the pen in his hands, twirling it and watching as ink flicked out and soiled the sides of his fingers. It was a habit he had picked up whenever he tried to write, which was a lot more frequently than whenever he succesfully wrote.


An empty planner, a wish for a soulmate.


Leonard knew that, while conjectural, the theory of required contact was still rather more plausible than a bond appearing out of nowhere. And as such, one needed to be out in the wild to form such a link. Socialising.


He shot a wry smile at the page and set down the pen.


"Giving up?"


"Ha ha." Leonard did not deign that mocking with a proper response. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and set his feet upon the table, looking up at the ceiling and running a hand through his hair as he did so.


He had remained utterly uninspired as to what he should do with his free time. Yet another day was spent lounging at home, and the sun had set long ago, leaving this lone bachelor rather disheartened.


To be fair, (or more accurately, he often told himself in excuse,) he spent plenty of his time walking the streets of Tingen to fulfil his duties as a Nighthawk. At this point, if he hadn't met the person destined to be his soulmate, it could only be because they weren't in the city.


Closing his eyes slightly, he felt the pull of beyond, and wondered if he should apply for a transfer. A languid hand continued to brush through his long hair as he mused, grown out in an attempt to be more unique, more than just a fleeting face in the crowd.


Vaguely, he hoped that such a thing could turn a chance encounter from something quickly forgotten into something memorable. Romantic, even. Something fitting of a first meeting with a lover, whoever they might be.


Suddenly, his actions paused.


His fingers brushed upon his temple, intermingling with loose strands that lay over his face. But now, there was a strange texture where smooth skin usually lay,


He bolted upright, suddenly, and lunged for the mirror that hung by the stairs, stopping to ignite the gas lamp on the way. Eagerly, Leonard stood in front of the mirror and lifted his hand above his head, holding his hair clear from his face.


Seeing his reflection, his eyes widened in shock.


After a long silence, he finally opened his mouth. "Old Man... What is that."


"... It looks like your bonded got shot in the head."


"WHAT?"


Leonard was taken aback. Of course, the strange sight on his forehead was nothing normal, and logically, he did recognise it himself. Somewhat. He had seen similar cases as a Nighthawk.


But still, the first noticeable mark of a bonded, and they were shot in the forehead? Just what kind of fate was this?


For a still moment, Leonard stood in denial.


He watched dizzily as his reflection blurred. He blinked, and he could see the outline of tears running down his cheek.


Then there was an exasperated sigh.


"Boy... What are you crying for! If your bonded really died from such a shot, the mark wouldn't  have bothered to appear on you."


Leonard blinked slowly, taking in the words.


He laughed lightly. "So they survived such a thing?"


"It seems that way..."


Leonard shook his head, scorning himself for his hasty reaction, and hummed slightly after a pause. "Well then, it seems my link is not in fact non-existent."


There was only a silence that followed, but Leonard was not disencouraged. It was the little victories that counted.

。。。✧✧✧ 。。。

That night, Leonard delayed sleeping for as long as he could, but as a mere Sequence 8 the drowsiness eventually overcame him, and his eyes finally shut in the early morning.


To his dismay, the gory mark on his forehead had completely and utterly disappeared before he woke, leaving no trace of it.


"Old Man, did you see what happened?"


"How could I see? Your eyes were shut the whole time."


"Haha. You know what I mean."


The voice in his head harrumphed, but Leonard knew his temperament well. 


"It faded on its own not long ago. As if the skin reclaimed it. Not a normal healing process that's for sure."


Leonard mused on this point. It seemed to be a pretty strong hint that his beloved (to be) was a beyonder. An unofficial? Or perhaps someone from the machinery hivemind? Leonard doubted that it would be someone from the Church of Storms, or a higher up in his own Church.


As for his team in Tingen, that was out of the question. They had all met years ago, and been met with numerous injuries along the way. A bond between any of them would be easily noticed, as proven by Dunn and Daly.  


Captain and Miss Daly...


Thinking of this point, Leonard's brows furrowed slightly. Indeed, soulmates didn't seem to always carry such easy companionship, and for many life continued to get in the way. While many praised such pairs for withstanding such turmoil and struggles, Leonard privately thought that such words were empty consolation.


Rubbing his forehead, he felt rather strongly that a life was best lived without any problems at all.


Alas, not many in the world could claim to have such a thing, and society certainly wasn't calm enough for him to be unemployed.

...

For the rest of the day, he stood on duty at Chanis Gate, paying close attention to his body. Barely a minute would pass before he ran his hands along his neck, glanced at his chest, or relentlessly combed his hair. Despite getting a promise from Old Man to notify him if he detected any changes, he remained skittish and restless. Hours later, his patience finally bore fruit.


Four black dots appearing and rapidly fading on his hand.


He frowned.


"Old Man, what does this mean?"


A long exhalation sounded in his mind. "I'm not sure."

。。。✧✧✧ 。。。

The summer weather remained sweet and fair, but Leonard was too distracted to enjoy it.


Today he accompanied his Captain to check on a rather intriguing case. Two students had committed suicide after studying a notebook, and there was possibly a third involved in the matter, their target of investigation. 


Leonard shook his head slightly, unnoticed. He was purposefully walking behind the pack, trying to clear his head to properly focus on the mission, but his mind kept drawing back to the image that only faded in the morning. 


A bullet wound to the forehead. 


Even to a beyonder, such a thing was usually fatal. A high sequencer perhaps? Or the blessing of one? As a mere Midnight Poet, there was still a lot Leonard didn't know about the world of beyonders. Of course, the Old Man in his head seemed to know a lot, but he hadn't said anything heplful on this matter.


Unable to narrow down the options, his mind turned to the mark itself.


Is it really possible that the first visible mark on a possible high sequence beyonder, or someone involved with such people, was such an injury? Did I really not notice anything else before, or has the link only recently formed?


Perhaps it's some special trait of theirs? Hehe, of course my soulmate needs to be someone as special as me~


Leonard was chuckling lightly to himself when he nearly walked into the back of his captain.


They had arrived at the target's residence.


Snapping back to reality, he watched with focus as the regular police inspector knocked on the door, and a young man answered it.


Aside from mild nervousness, Leonard noticed the man's scholarly vibes, his decently good looks, and, with a glance down over his outfit, his poverty.


All in line with his expectations.


Well, almost in line.


Leonard glanced towards his captain, who frowned briefly in contemplation before the look disappeared, being replaced with a calm and professional demeanour. 


Indeed, they hadn't expected Klein Moretti, the final and third student involved with the Antigonus Notebook, to still be alive!


Whilst Leonard was thinking that perhaps they had been mistaken, and this student had not in fact come into contact with the sealed artifact, the group was easily welcomed into the modest flat. 


As the conversation progressed, commanded by Dunn Smith, Leonard cast his gaze around the room to note down anything suspicious. Everything seemed rather typical for a low class house, with nothing immediately out of place.


Thinking that perhaps some notes had been recorded on the notebook during the trio's research, he strode over to the desk. A diary lay there.


Even though it wasn't labelled as a diary, Leonard recognised it immediately, as it was a perfect match to his empty one at home. Picking it up, he quickly amended his assesment. It wasn't like his at all; it was filled with notes and reflections. A true gold mine for investigators.


An indignant cry sounded the moment he picked the book up from the desk.


"Hey!"


Leonard smiled at the young man who's privacy he was invading, but his hands did not stop moving and flicked towards the current date.


"This is a necessary procedure." 


His gaze fixed on Klein, who's hand was half raised as if he had reached out to grab the book back before restraining himself. Leonard quickly noted the ink markings on his fingers and felt a vague sense of kinship. Sadly, this fellow was a scholar and not a poet, so the feeling wasn't too strong.


He cast his eyes back on the diary. The numbers changed with each flick of the page, and soon the month of June showed on the corner. Slowing down, he began to seriously read the handwriting on each page. Again, there was confirmation that Klein had studied the Antigonus Notebook. So how had he avoided the fate of suicide?


Perhaps he didn't physically touch it, and escaped its contamination?


Just as he thought this, he read one ominous line.

''Everyone will die, including me.'

Leonard hummed slightly.


"What is this strange thing? And what does this mean? Everyone will die, including me..."


He spoke casually, as if asking about a novel blend of tea that Rozanne brought into the office. It was best not to be too accusatory when dealing with such cases, this is what his years of experience as a Nighthawk had taught him. Better to remain friendly and curious for as long as possible, lest the target gets too fearful and tries to make a run for it.


Klein answered him slowly but frankly. At a first glance, it seemed that he was honest, but Leonard wasn't in a position to make quick judgements about the matter.


Following Klein's explanation, the conversation was interrupted by the police inspector Leonard forgot the name of. He happily allowed his captain to regain control and promptly zoned out,  continuing to slip around the room and perfunctorarily searching more books for clues.


Of course, he didn't expect to find anything. He was much more interested in appearing busy so that he could go back to thinking about his soulmate.


Unfortunately, he didn't get a proper chance, as Dunn Smith swiftly wrapped up the investigation and moved to exit the room.


Sighing internally, Leonard decided to give one final probe and do his job properly.


He passed by Klein on his way to the door, and paused to pat him on the shoulder with a smile.


"It's really nice. Very lucky."


"What?"


Leonard's smile widened slightly as he continued. "Generally speaking, the norm is for all the involved parties to die in such an event. We are very glad and fortunate to see you still alive."


He inwardly chuckled at the expression on Klein's face and retracted his hand, walking to the door and shutting it gently behind him.


He hadn't said the doubts in his mind outright, but the question still echoed quietly in his mind as he followed Dunn Smith outside.


How did he survive?

。。。✧✧✧ 。。。

The case was sufficiently confusing, and Leonard wasn't able to truly turn his mind back to the matter of his soulmate after meeting with Klein. 


That history student who had mysteriously survived contact with the Antigonus Notebook kept him busy for the rest of the day.


He was sent here and there, tailing Welch's servants and investigating his items, trying to find if anything strange had happened. After a few hours, he had only been able to confirm that a pistol had gone missing from Welch's house.


Leonard sighed as he sank back into the soft embrace of the sofa, looking up at the ceiling as he waited for Captain Dunn to return from using his Nightmare abilities.


The clock ticked on the wall, slowly driving Leonard insane as he resisted the urge to up and leave. Finally, the door to 36 Zouteland street opened from the outside, and a sombre Dunn Smith walked in.


"Any progress?" 


His captain was long aware of Leonard's bad habits, so he hadn't felt the need to fix his posture and similarly posed the question in a casual manner that didn't betray the strange restlessness in his mind.


Dunn gave a curt nod. 


"The gun was obtained by Klein Moretti, the student we visited today. Madam Daly has confirmed that he has no memories of that day, nor how he obtained the pistol, but he admitted to waking up with a bullet hole in the wall."


Leonard waited a few seconds for Dunn to cross the lobby before asking; 


"Anything else?" 


He watched as his captain paused, clearly attempting to recall.


"Ah yes, I invited him to become a civilian member of staff, but whether he agrees or not is up to him."


Leonard nodded, and looked back at the ceiling as he contemplated the case. 


Klein Moretti has clearly been influenced by that notebook, and is even missing memories of yesterday... He unknowingly obtained a pistol from Welch's manor, and woke up with a bullet that missed his head. How strange, did it really miss him? Had the influence of the notebook weakened somehow by that time, or did he actually survive it and we didn't notice at all?


Wait...


Could it be?


Leonard felt his pulse hastening as his mind rushed the pieces together. 


The 27th, a single bullet fired, a situation where any normal person would have died... And that wound on his forehead. Even the ink stains on his fingers seemed rather familiar.


Previously Leonard hadn't considered this at all, as there was no way an ordinary history student could get hold of a gun. But now that one had been found in his room, and Klein just so happened to be missing memories of that day...


It all matched up.


The only thing missing was confirmation.


Slowly, Leonard opened his mouth and muttered to the empty room.


"Old Man, do you think its possible, that Klein might have been shot himself after all, but still survived?"


After a short pause, the aged voice sounded in his head.


"There didn't seem to be anything special about him that I could tell. If he was really ressurected by some power, it left no trace."


Leaning back, Leonard frowned slightly. 


It seems Old Man understood what I was thinking, but he was unable to sense anything...


Deep in thought, he raised his hand to his face and stared at the sides of his fingers which were tainted black with ink.


How to probe him...


As Leonard was imagining how he might question a Klein who had just become a civilian member of the Nighthawks, a question flashed through his mind. 


Wait... Does Klein even know? 


He had seemed rather flighty despite his calmness, but that was to be expected from someone so suddenly informed two of their friends had died, and missing memories of a day themself. This latter point was confirmed by Madam Daly, and so it was unlikely that he was lying about it.


The wound had vanished rather suddenly, it was very likely it had occured in that blank space in his memory.


He really might not know...


Leonard sat upright, his face showing an uncharacteristically serious expression.


"Perhaps it is better if he doesn't remember... At least, he won't remember the pain." 


He muttered to himself out of habit, not expecting a response. To his surprise, a voice sounded almost immediately. 


"Naive! If he doesn't remember, it's quite likely that whatever entity that healed him also stole the relevant memories. This isn't a good thing."


Leonard's blood ran cold. He had worked with the assumption that his soulmate was a high sequence beyonder themself, or at least a beyonder involved in an organisation with access to high level charms and items. The idea that he was actually a regular person who had come across an evil being...


"Then what should I do?" His voice was laced with concern.


"Hmph, what can you do? You're only sequence 8 remember?"


"But isn't there still something?"


There was a long silence, but Leonard didn't rush him.


During this time, Leonard's lipsed pursed together with worry. Even though he had barely met Klein, the thought of him suffering some malicious curse or fate was sufficiently distressing. Indeed, even from the brief and distracted glimpses, Leonard already felt that if that little scholar was destined to be his then he certainly wouldn't mind it at all.


"Just watch him for now."


This was not the answer Leonard wanted to hear, but he lacked the confidence to refute. Sighing, he solemly got up from the sofa and headed home to take a nap.


After all, Emporer Roselle once said that when faced with a difficult problem, the best course of action was to sleep on it!

。。。✧✧✧ 。。。

The sun shone brightly down upon the streets of Tingen, illuminating a handsome figure striding confidently along Zouteland Street.


As Leonard approached the Nighthawks base of operations, an aged voice nagged in his mind.


"Kid, you should be careful. There's no low level beyonder that can heal such an injury. If there really is a high level existence or organisation behind him, it isn't good to provoke them. Even if you don't ask anything, you could be at risk the moment he discovers you saw that bullet wound."

"I know Old Man, I have a plan."


There was a slight pause, and the voice that sounded seemed slightly apprehensive.


"Which is?"


Leonard hummed lightly.


"If it's too dangerous to be too direct, then there's still one way to prove we are soulmates. Plus, this method means that he should be unwillingly to hurt me once the truth is out."


"...And what method is that?"


"Haha, it's to get him to fall in love with me of course!"


Saying this, he cheerfully pushed open the door to the Blackthorn Security Company building and walked through.


Inside, Klein was already seated with a cup of tea. Leonard smiled and winked at him, and watched as an expression of distaste flashed across the mans face in response.


As Leonard's smile froze from the blatant rejection, he heard a scoff echo in his mind.


"Hah. Good luck with that."