Chapter Text
When Chouji’s soul mark disappeared roundabout the time he turned six he didn’t miss it much. Of course it was a different story as he grew, but Shikamaru pointed out, reasonably, that who wanted to deal with the mess that soulmarks brought?
Of course Shikamaru was right but.
But.
Chouji held out hope. There were plenty of happy people in the world without soulmarks for one reason or another. Inoichi and his wife didn’t even share soulmarks. They jokingly called one another ‘my second best choice’ and then kissed long enough that Ino screeched at them.
It was just one insecurity of many and Chouji learned to set those aside. His mind was already occupied with the normal woes- too fat, too slow, untalented- so really losing his soulmark before he hit puberty was just one more thing to add to the ever-growing pile of detrius he kept behind a tightly locked door in his mind, so far in Ino wouldn’t be able to find it with a map and a flashlight.
Life went on and childish worries gave way to very adult fears and in armor he knew his father had hoped he’d never wear Chouji breathed in the scent of explosive powder and fought for his goddamn life.
Chouji didn’t even notice it had come back, at first.
There was an itching on his palm and it was annoying but he ignored it, barked orders and followed them, dragged dying ninja bodily across mine-laced fields and checked to be sure Shikamaru still had all his limbs.
The itching became stronger and Chouji wondered briefly if he’d missed some wound, if an infection was brewing. Then there was a need for someone just crazy enough to charge an incoming enemy line and that was practically Akimichi tradition so he did his job and he forgot.
Then the itch turned into a burn, a real burn and in a quiet moment by himself Chouji tore off his gauntlet and unwrapped his hand with curses behind his teeth he’d learned from his mother when Hiashi Hyuuga had insulted her udon to her face.
And there it was.
He blinked at it once, twice.
It didn’t go away.
It was exactly as he remembered it and for some reason that calmed him.
He was still staring at it when Shikamaru found him and said, “Madara Uchiha’s been spotted and he’s fucking breathing.”
Chouji looked from his palm to Shikamaru, back to his palm.
To the pinwheel tomoe seal nestled there, red and black as starkly as if it had been tattooed.
An eye that was sort of like Sasuke’s, but not…quite..
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Chouji said, and pulled his gauntlet back on.