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There were no truths in this world hidden from his eyes. That was the first absolute truth of Gojo Satoru. The Six Eyes showed him the flow of cursed energy, but more than that, he could see the movement of every muscle, the subtle throb of a heartbeat against skin, the distortion of air with each exhale.
But there was something even he could not see. Although his eyes transcended the limits of mortals into the realm of the heavens, the world he saw was dull and colorless, a monochrome canvas devoid of emotion.
That was the second absolute truth of Gojo Satoru: he was completely and utterly alone. The red string of fate that everyone else had, his was either severed or never existed. There were no flashes of color that indicated that his other half existed somewhere out there. And he was okay with that; he had long accepted that overwhelming loneliness was the price of strength.
Red . That was the first color he saw. Blood red eyes that bore into him, that were equal measures cruel and ancient. His heart had skipped a beat as color flooded his vision, colors that he’d never experienced before yet somehow knew the words for.
He faltered, not enough to lose against the newly awakened King of Curses, but enough for it to be noticed.
“What’s wrong, sorcerer? What happened to all that ego? Weren’t you going to show off in front of your student?” Sukuna taunted.
Gojo’s thoughts were racing as his reality sank in. It couldn’t be possible, was fate this cruel to have his soulmate be Ryoumen Sukuna? The bane of sorcerers and humans alike, of whom murder and cannibalism were the least of his crimes?
Worst of all, Sukuna himself seemed completely unaffected, still as bloodthirsty as when they had first laid eyes on each other. Did he know that they were made for each other? Or did he simply not care? Gojo wasn’t sure which option was worse.
No, it didn’t matter. If this was what fate had in store for him, then Gojo would spit in the face of destiny.
“As if,” he retorted. “You couldn’t touch me if you tried.”
That seemed to set Sukuna off, who lunged at Gojo with outstretched claws. Instead of landing on the sorcerer, his fist created a crater in the building behind them, sending powerful shockwaves that shook the earth.
The adrenaline from the fight, although one-sided, was enough to clear Gojo’s head. He could deal with this soulmate situation later, when he didn’t have a pissed off King of Curses trying to kill him for mouthing off. When he could be alone to process the fact that his soulmate was most likely a heartless monster who couldn’t love in the first place.
Maybe this was what he deserved, this sick joke from the universe.
If there was one thing to be thankful to Ryoumen Sukuna for, it was being able to finally see what everyone else already did.
The sky was blue , and on a clear day, his eyes would reflect the same color, like someone had made them by cutting out a piece from the sky. The leaves on the trees were green , green like the color of his favorite mochi, the color of Megumi’s eyes.
His hair was white like powdered sugar, and Sukuna’s tattoos were black like charred flesh.
Sometimes it was too much, being able to see so much more than what his already overwhelming Six Eyes provided him. More days than not, he would have to keep a blindfold on or risk being crippled by a splitting headache.
Weak . Gojo had become so weak, as though Sukuna had dragged him down from the heavens when he had ascended from the abyss.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the curse. The ghost of his voice followed him everywhere, and those four red eyes haunted his dreams. He wanted to know what Sukuna sounded like when he was stripped of its arrogance and sadism, if that were possible. Would Sukuna’s flesh be warm, even though he had no need for the blood that coursed through his borrowed veins? How would it feel to have four hands pressed against him, holding him, hurting him?
What would the words, ‘I love you,’ sound like coming from Sukuna’s lips?
Even though they exchanged hardly more than a few sentences since their fight, Gojo’s heart would flutter anytime he heard Sukuna’s voice.
It was pathetic , the way his emotions would get hijacked by his traitorous heart that longed for an end to his solitude. He wasn’t in love with Sukuna, just the idea of him. Of someone who he could call his equal.
Why did Sukuna’s promise that Gojo will be the first he’d kill feel like a marriage vow to him?
He wondered if, as a curse, Sukuna could even have a fated partner. Perhaps he had been born a thousand years too late for his soulmate to recognize him, and he was doomed to a one-sided obsession with someone who didn’t know what love was. Someone he would eventually have to kill with his own hands.
His questions about Ryoumen Sukuna ceased to matter when Gojo was sealed away. Within the Prison Realm, all the color that Sukuna had brought into his world was gone. There was only gray flesh, white bones, and black darkness.
It was a reprieve from all the bright, chaotic colors, and from his confusing feelings regarding the King of Curses.
He never expected to be freed. The harsh golden sunlight burned at his already sensitive retinas that had grown accustomed to the dim surroundings of the Prison Realm.
The light was as beautiful as it was painful.
His fortune would have it that the first individual he saw on the outside was Sukuna. No longer in Itadori’s body, Gojo’s eyes told him that the King of Curses had somehow fully incarnated in a body of his own.
He could see why some had worshiped Sukuna as a god.
How long had he been sealed away for that to have happened? Time didn’t pass within the Prison Realm, and it could have been days as easily as years since he had last seen the sun.
The first thing Gojo noticed was that Sukuna towered now over him, tall enough to pick him up with one hand and dangle him over the ground, which was impressive given how tall Gojo was. He was shirtless, making room for all four of his arms. Gojo’s eyes were drawn to Sukuna’s stomach, where there was a large, grinning mouth.
Heat coursed through Gojo’s veins as he took in Sukuna’s true form. Was it excitement, bloodlust, or arousal? Most likely a bit of all of them. EIther way, it was something he had never felt before.
Their eyes met, blue on red, and there was a brief flicker of an unreadable emotion on Sukuna’s half-distorted face before he returned to his usual cruel smirk.
What was that?
“Do you remember my promise?” Sukuna asked, his eyes never leaving Gojo.
“Are you saying you’ve been saving your first kill for me,” Gojo teased. “I’m flattered, but you really didn’t have to.”
“Don’t make me regret granting you this honor, Gojo Satoru.” That… should be illegal, hearing his own name come out of Sukuna’s mouth.
Some more insults were exchanged, but all Gojo could think was that he wanted to hear more of Sukuna saying his name.
He had a month to prepare, a month before either he was forced to kill his soulmate, or be killed by him. Fate was cruel, but Gojo was capable of doing what needed to be done, no matter how much it hurt.
Sukuna probably didn’t feel conflicted about this at all.
When they met again, there was that strange expression on Sukuna’s face again.
“So you are the one,” Sukuna said cryptically.
“The strongest? I am.”
“No, I meant mine .” Sukuna smirked wickedly at him.
“How presumptuous of you,” Gojo laughed. It came out a lot shakier than he had intended. “I didn’t think the King of Curses would be the type to do as his destiny dictated.”
“True. You have yet to prove yourself worthy of being mine.”
“I could say the same about you.” They shared a wide grin. Gojo’s heart soared at being recognized by Sukuna: his other half, his equal.
Actions spoke louder than words for both of them, and their smiles never faded as they exchanged fatal blows. It was a fight to the death as much as it was a dance, a courtship ritual that belonged only to them. The first and last of its kind.
Sukuna’s flesh was indeed warm.
Every cut Sukuna left on his body felt like an exaltation, a promise that he would always be at his side. Each time Sukuna drew his blood, Gojo could feel himself falling a little bit in love. He made sure to leave his mark on Sukuna as well, carving his name with the curse’s red blood.
They fought for long enough where Gojo could no longer remember what it was like to be away from Sukuna, where he ended and the other began. The trail of destruction they left behind were merely casualties of their cataclysmic love.
And then… Gojo lost. He had run out of cursed energy, reducing him to the same status as any other ordinary human. As he laid seeping blood on the concrete, Sukuna approached him. He was dying, his vision blurring around the edges and the color bleeding from his sight. All he could see was the hazy silhouette of the one who had killed him.
“Have I proven myself to you, Ryoumen Sukuna?” Gojo asked with a weak smile, blood spilling from his lips.
“You have. I won’t forget you for as long as I live, Gojo Satoru.” Sukuna paused as he knelt down, placing a large hand on Gojo’s chest. “And I won’t have to.”
Cursed energy flowed from Sukuna to Gojo, breathing new life into his listless body. His wounds closed up and healed, leaving behind stark white scars that criss-crossed his pale skin.
“Why are you…?” Gojo coughed, the strength had still yet to be restored to his punctured lungs. At the end of the day, soulmates or not, they should have been sworn enemies first. The world simply couldn’t handle the two of them existing at the same time.
“Didn’t I tell you already? You are mine . I had waited a thousand years for you, I will not let something as petty as death take you away from me.”
“Even if it is death at your hands?”
“Not even then,” Sukuna agreed.
Gojo laughed. “You know that this will never work out? That even the idea of us is an impossibility.”
“Why should we care about what is impossible?”
Gojo was quiet as he studied Sukuna’s face. Sukuna’s eyes were soft, far softer than Gojo had ever seen him be. He knew that the curse was a cold hearted killer, and knew what he had done to countless lives in Shibuya.
Maybe he was a bad man, but Gojo couldn’t care about how many Sukuna had killed if it meant an end to his loneliness. He’d never claimed to be a paragon of virtue anyways, and had only been on the ‘right side’ out of convenience.
“Do you love me?” Gojo asked.
“Love? What we have is so much greater than some human emotion,” Sukuna scoffed.
“Maybe, but I am still a human.”
“Then, I do love you, Gojo Satoru.”
Sukuna reached out, offering a hand to him, which Gojo readily accepted. His legs were shaky like a newborn calf as he slowly got back up. In a way, he was being reborn, freed from his mortal obligations by Sukuna’s hands.
“You are mine as much as I am yours,” Gojo whispered as he leaned his weight onto Sukuna, still too weak to support himself.
“As it was meant to be.”
So this was the color of love.