Black and red koi fish tattoos? Yeah, they’re not just art—they’re whispers of old stories wrapped around flesh. Especially on the forearm, where the ink can swim free, visible and wild. It’s personal. It’s bold. And if you think all koi tats are the same… mate, you haven’t seen these.
Most folks think of koi fish as gentle swimmers. Quiet. Pretty. Little golden things. But in black and red? Nah. That’s a different language. That’s grit. That’s survival and rage and beauty all in the same breath.
So, here are 20+ black and red koi fish forearm tattoos—each one with its own mood, its own fight, and its own quiet kind of fire. Some wrap like vines. Others swim like ghosts. All of ‘em? They mean something. Let’s dive into it.
1. The Wrath & Grace Coil
This one looks like a red flame slithering through ink-black water. The koi’s tail twists near the wrist, wrapping just shy of the palm. It’s got these jagged, almost lightning-strike scales along its spine—gives it this angry softness. Contradiction much? Yup, and it works.
The black ink bleeds into a smoky background, like the fish is swimming through shadows of its own past. Some artists call it “ghost shading.” We call it—raw. Red eyes stare upward toward the elbow, like it’s reaching for something it can’t quite get to.
It ain’t just pretty. It’s a story you carry.
2. Yin and Yang… but Make It Bleed
Okay. You’ve seen the classic koi circle—two fish chasing tails. Usually gold and white. But picture this—one koi, deep crimson, all fire and frenzy. The other, pitch black, not matte black, but glossy, almost wet-looking. It glistens when you move.
They curl together near the forearm’s curve. No circle, though. Just chaos. As if they’re not chasing peace. They’re chasing meaning. And maybe they’re angry they haven’t found it yet.
It doesn’t feel balanced. That’s the point.
3. Dragon-Blood Hybrid
Here’s where koi meets dragon halfway and refuses to say sorry.
This one’s wild. Red ink pulses through the fish’s fins like veins lit up. The black scales sharpen into blade-like lines along the dorsal. There’s smoke curling behind it—shaded with these soft whip-like strokes. It feels like movement even when you’re dead still.
Some folks add tiny horns to this style. Just a whisper of transformation. Not fully a dragon… not yet. It’s the koi in the moment before it becomes. Suspended in myth.
Wear it on the inside of your forearm and watch people squint. They won’t know if it’s a koi, or something crawling out of a dream.
4. Sliced Ink Koi
Imagine this—your forearm is cut into slivers, and between the slivers, the koi swims.
It’s not literal gore, don’t worry. But the tattoo is designed like panels—almost like comic book frames or broken glass. Each “slice” holds part of the koi’s body. The eye in one. The fin in another. A blood-red tail flicks in the last panel, bleeding out past the lines.
It’s abstract. It’s gutsy. Kinda makes you feel like you’re holding pieces of something bigger… or maybe it’s all falling apart. Depends on the day.
This one’s not for the faint-hearted.
5. Minimalist Rage
Not every black and red koi needs drama. Sometimes, it’s just a single fish. One direction. One purpose. Nothing extra.
The body’s pure black. No shine, no texture. Just matte, inky stillness. The eye is a tiny drop of red—barely there. The tail? A single sweep of red, like someone dragged a paintbrush across your skin in one breath.
It’s haunting. Like the koi has no background, no water, no journey. Just existence.
You know the type: quiet kid in the corner who could burn the world down if they wanted.
6. The Brushstroke Beast
This one looks painted, not tattooed.
Big, sweeping strokes build the koi. Like traditional sumi-e art. But bolder. Messier. Controlled chaos. The black koi looks like it was dragged across your skin with a broomstick dipped in ink. The red splashes? Like wine thrown at a wall—violent, but weirdly beautiful.
It doesn’t look perfect. That’s the whole damn point.
People stop and ask, “Is that real ink?” because it moves. Looks like it’s always shifting, mid-swim.
Pro tip? Let the red fade slightly into the skin. Looks like memory.
7. War Torn Koi
This one bleeds. Like, literally. It’s ink, of course, but it looks like the koi’s been through it. Torn fins. Scarred body. Chunks of scale missing, replaced with red fire patches.
The head looks forward, defiantly, like it knows what it’s survived. Alongside the koi, there’s usually kanji or broken lotus petals—symbols of resilience. Pain? Sure. But also rebirth.
It doesn’t look clean or soft. It’s not meant to.
Ink this one when you’re on the other side of something big.
8. The Spiral Flow
Start at the wrist. The koi is facing downward this time, tail coiling toward the elbow in a tight spiral. Unusual direction—most koi go up. Upstream. But this one? It dives.
Red ink outlines the movement, tracing the curves like a ribbon caught in the current. The black body fades into geometric ripples. No background scene. Just motion.
It’s less about the koi’s identity, more about what it’s doing. And what it’s doing is falling—elegantly.
Some say it means surrender. Others say it’s a power move. Could be both.
9. Shadow Twin Duo
Two koi. One forearm. One red. One black. And they ain’t peaceful. They’re not floating or circling. They’re fighting.
The tails slap against one another near the wrist, while the heads bash together at the top near the elbow. Water ripples stretch between them—sharp lines, pointed waves. No soft edges here.
Some artists sketch in broken spears or torn netting to add context. You don’t need it. The fish alone scream struggle. Survival of the boldest.
It’s not a harmony tattoo. It’s a warning.
10. The Red-Eyed Phantom
You ever see a koi where you can’t quite tell if it’s real or a ghost?
That’s this one.
The whole fish is black. Not ink-black. Void-black. Like it’s been cut out of shadow. The only color? A single, vicious red eye. No pupil. Just red. A dot of warning. Or rage. Or heartbreak. Depends on the light.
The fins dissolve into soft smoky lines, almost disappearing into the skin. Like it’s part of you now. Like it always was.
It feels old. Ancient. As if it remembers things you forgot.
11. Smoke and Bone Koi
This one feels haunted. The koi isn’t smooth or graceful—it’s skeletal. Its black body is broken up with bone-like ribs showing through the flesh, jagged and unsettling. Think koi meets X-ray.
Red smoke curls through the gaps, not flames, but something weirder. Like spirit residue. You can almost feel it breathing. It’s not just a fish anymore. It’s a memory, maybe even a ghost of something you let go.
This one’s not for beauty. It’s for the ones who wear grief like armor.
12. Blood Threaded Flow
Imagine a koi stitched across your forearm—not literally, but visually. Its black scales shimmer, but what stands out are the long, crimson threads flowing from the tail like silk unraveling in water. They trail all the way down your wrist.
No traditional fins, no background scene. Just that drifting thread, red like a warning, soft like goodbye.
It says: I’ve been torn apart before. But look, I’m still swimming.
It’s delicate and dangerous. A weird mix of poetry and edge.
13. Ink Spill Koi
This one looks like the koi was dropped on your skin by accident—like someone spilled a bottle of ink and it came to life.
The body’s loose, unfinished. The tail is barely there. Instead of outlines, it’s all smears, splatters, and raw strokes. A thick blotch of red pools around the eye, making it look swollen with emotion. Maybe anger. Maybe regret.
It’s wild, imperfect, and almost abstract. Feels alive in a broken way.
You won’t find two of these in the world. And that’s exactly the point.
14. Koi With No Water
No waves. No ripples. No bubbles. Just the fish—black and red, floating in silence.
It’s an eerie visual. The koi’s tail curls naturally along the forearm curve, but there’s no context. No environment. Just negative space all around it, like it’s trapped in limbo.
That absence? It’s loud. Says more than waves ever could.
Perfect for someone who doesn’t need symbols to shout. Just one fish. Just one journey. All alone.
15. Kintsugi Koi
Inspired by the Japanese art of fixing broken pottery with gold, this koi is drawn with cracks across its body—scarred, but not shattered. Each crack is lined in deep red instead of gold, glowing slightly against the black base.
The head faces downward, eyes closed. Peaceful. Finished with fighting.
You can almost hear it thinking: I broke. I healed. Now look at me shine.
It’s soft but powerful. For the ones who’ve been through hell and still walk like art.
16. Industrial Koi Machine
This ain’t no nature scene. This koi is made of gears and bolts and sharp edges. It’s mechanical—like someone built it in a dark workshop and gave it a pulse.
Black metal plates form the scales. Red wires wrap through the fins like muscle fibers. There’s no water, just steam clouds drawn in gray shading.
It’s part koi, part machine, all survival. A tattoo for someone who rebuilt themselves piece by piece.
When people see it, they don’t ask what it means. They feel it.
17. Paper Lantern Koi
Now imagine a koi made of folded paper—origami style. Soft black folds shape the body. Red brushstrokes trace along the edges, almost like watercolor bled through rice paper.
The eye is a single ink dot. Nothing else. Minimal but rich.
The fish floats gently across the forearm like it’s part of a floating lantern festival. Peaceful. Dreamlike. A whisper of something once real, now remembered.
It’s subtle. But damn, it hits deep.
18. Koi Eye Close-Up
Forget the whole fish. Just tattoo the eye.
Centered near the wrist or the inner forearm. It’s huge, exaggerated, glistening with black ink and a bleeding red outline. Inside the pupil? A tiny reflection—maybe of a person, a flame, or another koi.
This one’s intimate. Close-up. Raw.
You don’t need the body to know it’s a koi. That eye? It sees everything you’ve survived.
And maybe it’s watching what’s coming next.
19. Static Koi
Imagine if a koi fish got stuck inside a glitchy TV.
This tattoo is a distorted version of a koi—lines staggered, duplicated, or misaligned. The black and red are broken into blocks or pixel shapes, almost like a corrupted image. Some fins look like they’re frozen mid-motion. Others are jagged, unfinished.
It’s modern. Digital. But weirdly emotional.
Feels like identity in the age of static noise. Perfect if your mind’s a storm and you like it that way.
20. Lunar Koi
Picture a koi with a moon embedded in its body.
This fish swims along the forearm, trailing a galaxy-like pattern. Instead of scales, it’s dotted with tiny stars and crescent shapes. One large, blood-red moon curves across its midsection like a wound. Or maybe a birthmark.
The koi itself is black, shaded with soft gray stardust. It doesn’t swim through water—it floats through space.
For the dreamers. The quiet rebels. The ones who never fit into the river and swam upward anyway.
Now, let’s get one thing straight.
Koi fish aren’t just pretty little symbols. They’re loaded. Dripping with meaning. They’ve been swimming through Japanese legends for centuries. Resilience, ambition, transformation. Sounds cliché when you say it out loud—but not when it’s scratched into skin.
And when you toss black and red into the mix?
You get something raw. Almost primal.
Red is power. Fire. Anger. Blood, too.
Black is mystery. Death. Silence. Shadow.
Together, they make tattoos that don’t whisper—they growl.
On the forearm? That’s prime real estate. Not hidden, not boastful. It’s a space that bends, flexes, moves with you. It’s expressive, vulnerable, strong.
People notice a koi forearm tat before they notice your face sometimes. That’s how bold they are.
So before you pick your design, ask yourself—what are you trying to say without saying it?
You want quiet power? Go minimalist.
You want to scream your story? Go brushstroke chaos.
You want myth? Add dragon horns. Want realism? Scale-by-scale perfection, baby.
There’s no right way. Only your way.
Ink is permanent, yeah, but it’s also evolution. Who you were when you got the tattoo and who you become after—those are two different people. And the koi? It’ll swim with both.
Each flick of the tail on your skin will say something different depending on the day.
Maybe one day it’s about pain.
Next week, it’s about strength.
Next year, you’ll forget why you even got it—until someone asks, and you remember, and the whole story crashes back like waves.
So take your time. Talk to your artist. Sketch. Erase. Cry about it if you gotta.
Because once that koi lands on your forearm? It’s yours.
Forever, yeah. But also now. Right now. This version of you.
And that’s beautiful in the strangest, messiest way.
Just like the koi.
Williamson is a tattoo design expert and passionate blogger, known for sharing unique tattoo ideas, trends, and tips that inspire artists and enthusiasts alike.
