Mondo had his arms crossed, looking down at you with narrowed eyes and an all too familiar scowl on his face. “Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that. Just cause of this fuckin’ mark on my wrist don’t mean a goddamn thing!!” If possible, Mondo’s scowl seemed to get deeper. He couldn’t believe that you, of all people, were his soulmate. In fact, he didn’t want a goddamn soulmate! He felt like punching you.

But, contrary to his words, his heart beat wildly against his will and the soulmate mark imprinted on his wrist buzzed with unbridled energy. The idea of a soulmate stroked some kind of cord in him - preferably the one that wanted to punch a wall. Or your face. Or both. Or maybe that was the magnetic pull that soulmate mark did to pull him towards you--

"Get the fuck away from me!" Mondo pushed you away, his ears burning red hot. He hated this. He felt...weak. Like he was being compromised. "This is bullshit! I'm not gonna let this dumb ass soulmate mark bullshit control ME!" He was Mondo. Mondo Owada. He wouldn't let something like a hellish soulmate mark or whatever get to him. Not in a million years.