Chapter Text
In Kirigakure it was tradition that when one received their mark that should it not meet the span and breadth of power expected of the chosen of a powerful Mist Shinobi that it was to be covered up. Most often this was done with village icons inked into ones skin to hide the shame of their bond in a show of loyalty. Other times Shinobi would have them replaced with symbols of strength or personal icons, whatever best hid the original image.
Kisame had never had particularly high hopes for his soulmate. While he was a good ninja and a good swordsman fortune had never seen fit to particularly favor him. His sentiment was only further confirmed as he stood stark naked before his slightly tarnished and cracked bedroom mirror raking his eyes over his own skin in search for any sign of a mark. It took him far longer then he would have liked to spy the tiny intricate pink cherry blossom bud tucked against his collarbone like a featherlight kiss. The flower having the audacity to not even be in full bloom, it’s petals continuing to remain stubbornly closed no matter how hard the Kirigakure nin glared at them. The mark was weak, his soulmate was weak, and it made him look weak in return.
Cursing under his breath Kisame dressed hastily knowing what he must do. As the apprentice to one of the Seven Swordsman he couldn’t afford to appear as anything less then terrifying. He could only hope the old lady that ran the tattoo parlor down the road would be willing to see him on such short notice.
Slinging his sword over his back Kisame shouldered open the door to his apartment to slip out into the overcast early morning twilight a curse upon his soulmate resting on the tip of his tongue. However, it wouldn’t be the first time nor would it be the last time he’d curse them that day.
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The old lady stared. Madam Miriso was her name, if Kisame recalled correctly, a woman with black shark like eyes not unlike Kisame’s and tanned worn skin from far too many days out in the sun. She was a tough old bird they said, but as Kisame fought not to fidget where he sat shirtless beneath her gaze he couldn’t see anything birdlike about her.
A frown twisted the old woman’s lips creasing her forehead with wrinkles as she squinted and peered at Kisame’s mark, examining it and him in turn like one might a particularly interesting insect. Where she not possibly the most gifted tattoo artist in the five elemental nations he might have been tempted to run her through.
“Well?” Kisame asked gruffly, his voice coming out slightly rougher then intended in his disconcertion. “I’ve heard you’ve covered up worse.” He added and indeed Kisame had, distraught and drunk nin tended to talk and he’d heard his fair share of horror stories when it came to sub-par soulmarks or worse black ones. Scrawling, ugly uncolored things like half-erased drawings leaving barely a shadow of what might have been indicating no matter how strong or how weak that ones soulmate was dead. Things like that tended to mess with a man and as tiny and insignificant as Kisame’s soulmark was he couldn’t help, but be grateful he hadn’t been branded by one of those monstrosities.
“Won’t work.” The old woman croaked out her voice rough from disuse and likely too many of the cigars whose smoke tainted her parlor with their scent.
“What do you mean it won’t work?” Kisame blurted out in surprise warring between confusion and anger.
“This little one,” Madam Miriso spoke tapping the unbloomed cherry blossom decorating his shoulder with her finger, “Isn’t done growing yet.” She explained leaning back slightly in her chair.
“Not often you see an unfinished one, but it does happen. Only seen it twice before, one of them your fellow actually though I’m not at liberty to say which one.” She murmured digging into the pockets of her ink-stained apron to draw out a cigar before fumbling to find her lighter.
“By unfinished you mean it’ll keep growing possibly?” Kisame inquired trying to muffle the small spark of hope that bloomed in his chest. Maybe his soulmate wasn’t such a waste of time after all.
“Possibly. Likely means your soulmate is still a child or not born at all yet. If I cover it up now and it starts to develop it’ll just mean more work in the long run and a shoddier job. Come see me again once it settles if you still want it taken care of.” Madam Miriso explained managing to find her lighter and light the end of her cigar drawing in the smoke with a slow drag before releasing it with a sigh.
All Kisame could do was nod as he drew his shirt back over his head and made to exit the shop into the steady drizzle that had begun in his brief stint within. Moving mechanically his thoughts distant with this latest tidbit of information he almost didn’t hear the old woman when she spoke.
“Oh and boy~” Madam Miriso called a slow, but almost warm smile spreading across her aged face. “Congratulation.” She spoke with a nod as Kisame let out a soft grunt of acknowledgement before with the tinkling of the shop door bells he was once again out in the rain.
That night Kisame would lay in bed and wonder just what sort of person his soulmate would turn out to be. Would they be a shinobi? Would they be civilian? Would they be afraid of him? None of these questions he could answer and so putting them out of his mind he rolled over to sleep.
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It would be years before he thought of his soulmark again when his newest partner Itachi caught sight of the cherry blossom bud hidden in the hollow of his collarbone during one of their rare stops at an inn.
“Cherry blossom trees often bloom on battlefields.” The stoic Uchiha murmured eyeing the tiny mark with narrowed eyes and a slight tilt to his head reminiscent of a raven.
“They say the late blooming blossoms are always the most beautiful.” Itachi adds leaving Kisame blinking at his usually silent partner. It was the most words he’d hear the Uchiha string together in one sitting since the two had become partners and it catches him by surprise. Kisame doesn’t need the reassurance having long since disregarded anything to do with his soulmate and tells Itachi as much. But in return he never comments about the twisted black marks that almost look like feathers that mar the Uchiha’s left leg.