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The first time Satoru Gojo feels his synthetic heart pulse, he’s next to Suguru Geto during a briefing regarding cyborg defences. The foreign invasion is still ongoing despite humanity’s best efforts, so synthetic humans have become commonplace in this dystopia. Cyborgs, robots, artificial intelligence; they’re all produced en masse to defend whatever’s left of Earth, and Satoru is no exception. Known as Six by the defence officials, he is equipped with the most advanced technology this world has to offer. In exchange for his efforts in the war, he is offered the concept of human emotion — the ability to find and feel love, bound by fate to another synthetic human as strong as he is. He turns to look at the new battalion commander he is assigned to, noticing the markings all over the surface of his armour, and he knows he’s found it.
“Hey, Commander.” Satoru starts with a nonchalant expression. He can’t falter, if it’s even possible for an engineered being to do so. “It’s great to see you.” Something screams at him and taunts him for the lameness he’s exuding, but Satoru has slaughtered countless invaders without even breaking a sweat. Of all things, he’s determined to not make human emotions his own undoing, even as his synthetic heart beats erratically, sending his temperature systems into a dangerous territory, risking malfunctioning with every step he takes towards the Commander.
“Oh, Six, is it?” Suguru Geto crosses his arms and stares right through Satoru’s soul with those eyes, as bright as the amber long-lost to dystopic destruction. “It’s great to see you, too.” He enunciates every word in the same way Satoru does, not out of mocking mimicry but out of a sincerity to learn all there is to learn of this elite enigma. Satoru is known to be one of humanity’s greatest weapons, after all, so disregarding the fact that Suguru’s own heart is resonating with Satoru’s, he still has to make an effort to start a conversation. For humanity, or for love, talking to Six achieves at least one of his greatest objectives.
“Of course.” Satoru offers Suguru a winning smile. “It must be fate that we’re meeting here today, isn’t it?”
“Sure is.” Suguru agrees. His heart pulses. The fate component within him is feeling something. He knows he has agreed to feel love, but the foreign concept doesn’t seem to sit well within him. It leaves him reeling, as if he’s spinning out of control. He doesn’t believe in the ‘threads of fate’ that humans proclaim, but he sure does feel the influence of something greater. Heat rises to his cheeks, and he bats them away awkwardly. Satoru stares and smiles, bemused.
“You’re beautiful.” Satoru says. He has never said anything like this before. It’s as if he’s malfunctioning, spiralling away from reality and into ‘delulu land’, whatever his human protégés have learnt from the Internet — or the Database, as Satoru calls it. “Wait, what—”
Suguru laughs, as bright as the sun. Satoru doesn’t remember seeing anything as bright in a long, long while. His days are consumed by all the little things regarding the much grander war efforts, and he doesn’t remember the last time he has even seen the sun. It seems to almost always be covered by dark clouds. “Don’t worry about it,” Suguru’s voice dispels all the worry and doubt lingering in Satoru’s mind. “You’re beautiful, too.”
“Well, thank my creators, not me.” Satoru grins.
“Sure. I’ll be sure to send them my high regards.”
Satoru feels the resonation again. Even though he signed up for love, he’s still left reeling when he feels it.
『••✎••』
They’re fighting Fate, Satoru realises. All this time, humanity has been going against Fate of all concepts. It’s a strange, eerie realisation. As a synthetic human, he is taught to obey Fate. Fate is above all. Fate is in control. Fighting Fate results in destruction. But he’s been fighting Fate for years, and now he pays the price. He grits his teeth and clenches his fists, praying that his body won’t give up on him right now. He knows his creators are looking through the cameras in his system, watching him fall. And they know, better than anyone else, that if Six falls, the world will too. “So this is the end, isn’t it,” he murmurs, snapping the neck of a human-like creature.
These invaders are human, yet they are not. But if they put enough effort into masquerading as one, Satoru’s sure that even he won’t be able to tell the difference. Now that he knows that this is Fate, he knows Its intentions — to erase the old world so a new one can be birthed from its ruins. Fighting Fate is futile. An inevitable loss. So Satoru discards the corpse on the ground beneath him, treading on a few more as he prepares to walk into oblivion. Still, something doesn’t feel right — his synthetic heart is pulsing again. Is it love he feels, or is it dread?
Satoru doesn’t know anymore. After all, he’s just a weapon, a beacon of hope that brings motivation to the innocent human children. They look at him with some sort of awe Satoru has never felt like he deserves, so what do they think of him now when he’s about to greet death? He can only hope his protégés aren’t watching. Even if they’re fighting a losing battle, that doesn’t mean they have to die as losers. He’d like to believe that he’d go out with no regrets. But—
“Six.” Suguru hurries to Satoru’s side.
Satoru has one regret.
“Sorry, Suguru.” He has never addressed Suguru by his name on the battlefield before. “If we weren’t doomed by the fate that binds us, I’d love to be yours for as long as I live.”
“You can still be mine,” Suguru says hurriedly. “It doesn’t have to end this way.”
“We can’t fight Fate.” Satoru says, resigned.
“But we’re
created
to fight Fate.” Suguru grabs onto Satoru’s hand, slicing the head off another creature with the other. “Just because they say we have to obey Fate, doesn’t mean we have to! Our existence is already a paradox in itself, so why follow rules that don’t even make sense?”
“Right.” Satoru laughs, turning in Suguru’s direction. He extends an arm, watching it be torn away from his torso by a human-like figure. “This will never end, Suguru,” Satoru gestures to the place where his arm should be. He doesn’t even feel the pain — synthetic humans are programmed without pain receptors to ensure peak performance in the war. But why — why does his heart still ache? “Don’t you see?” Satoru looks away, turning to the new wave of invaders coming the way. “The only way to end this is by ensuring our own destruction.”
He holds out his other arm. “If Six falls, humanity falls. You’ve heard that before, right?”
“That’s why I was sent to work with you.”
“So you see, Suguru.” Satoru smiles. “If I fall now, we don’t have to worry anymore. We don’t have to think anymore. We can make this easy for ourselves.”
“But what if I don’t want to?” Suguru grits his teeth as he grips onto his left shoulder with his right hand. With all the effort he can muster, he rips away his own arm, holding it out to Satoru as an offering. “What if I want us to fight Fate so we can savour what lies after it?”
“Suguru.” Satoru begins, but he doesn’t finish his sentence. The sky darkens for the final time, as the beginning of a torrential rain begins to flood the land — a twisted mockery of the religion some humans believe in. “Suguru, don’t you see, ” his voice cracks, “at least come and sit down with me. Let’s rest for a little while, just you and I, before we have to go.”
Suguru gazes up at the sky, then at Satoru’s eyes. Even now, the blue shines brighter than the horizon itself. He allows himself to indulge in a long, deep sigh — one that is felt in his bones. This ceaseless war has tired far too many souls, and he’s been unconsciously longing for rest for a long while. “Alright then,” Suguru says, holding Satoru’s arm and pulling him down to the ground. They relax amidst the torn corpses of their own making, pushing all the air out of their systems. “Tell Fate we had a good run when you next see It, so we can do this all over again.”