The Harvester of Hearts
“What do you mean, to help the Harvester?”
Glasses sat back down in his chair and looked at me. The ceiling light glared off his lenses.
“You really keep those clean. Not a fingerprint on them.”
“Please save the talk about my glasses for later.”
…Even though I never called him “Glasses,” he knew exactly what I meant.
“Don’t get so worked up. I was going to tell you anyway. For the record, things are usually much more orderly than this. This time it’s only because those birds took an odd liking to you, and because Rhone got in the way, that things turned into this mess.”
Sighing, I traced the rim of my cup with a fingertip. I know I’m the type who tends to get tangled up.
“That guy’s basically your stalker, isn’t he?”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean? …But yeah, it’s scary.”
I didn’t really get what Aochi meant, but he wasn’t wrong. Even when he’s strangled or thrown into the sea, Rhone smiles and clings to me. His motivation? Honestly, it’s terrifying. How do I get him to hate me already?
“I didn’t hear it directly from him, so this is partly my own guess—”
With that preface, I began telling them the reason Rhone had taken Oze away.
You should also know how I first met him. No—Rhone himself isn’t the important part, but the situation at the time.
That morning, I had two passengers on board, on the final day of one world.
All the other ships floating across that sea should have had only one passenger each.
Of course, I intended to take both of mine into the next world.
I thought the Watcher Bird would scold me again. I was used to that, so it didn’t matter. The real problem was the man I had just picked up.
“Picked up” isn’t quite right—I found him drowning in the sea, and couldn’t just leave him, so I pulled him aboard.
At the time, my passengers were a middle-aged couple. The drowning man, though, was young. Once on deck, he looked up at me with a childlike smile and thanked me.
I asked if he had fallen overboard by accident. What the hell was his ship’s Harvester doing? If the Watcher Bird had energy to spare, I wished it would scold slackers like that instead of me.
But before I could even finish, the man smiled and said, “I jumped in myself.” He said he wanted to die so his friend could be saved.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Yet once he dove in, the sudden fear of death overcame him. He couldn’t return to his ship. He was a strong swimmer, so he just kept going, not knowing left from right, until he finally reached my ship.
Another Harvester might have ignored him. That would have been the correct choice.
But at that moment, I was arrogant enough to think I could save him too. Even as the Watcher Bird wheeled above, crying “stop it,” I dismissed the sound as nothing more than harassment.
My passengers welcomed the man warmly. You know how some people can disarm anyone with a smile? That was him.
He only stayed with us two or three hours.
Before long, lightning would come crashing down from beneath the sea.
I had to feed them hearts—this time, two. One for the woman, one for that young man.
Just as I prepared to vomit them up, an explosion rang out.
What? At once I knew it was from the dining room.
The young man was burning. Alive. That friendly face charred black and red, dripping onto the floor. And yet he was still conscious. His lips moved, trying to speak. What?
To this day, I don’t know what he said. Was it blame? Regret? A cry of despair? I still dream about it.
But what you must remember is this: before the final thunderclap, you must stay on your own ship.
Otherwise your heart will burn alive, while you remain conscious.
Better to be left behind quietly in this world, crushed without pain, than to endure that.
After that, the woman—her will to live had always been weak—nearly leapt into the sea. Not a half-hearted attempt like the man’s, but with the genuine intent to die.
She must have thought she’d end up like him if she stayed.
So I hurried to feed my heart to her. She was so terrified that I kept both passengers clutched against my shoulders until they passed through the gate to the next world.
That was when Rhone pulled his ship right alongside mine.
He shouted, asking if he should come save us, or not, his voice loud and obnoxious.
Our eyes met for an instant. They glittered with something frightening. I quickly looked away and pretended not to notice.
Ever since, no matter how many worlds we pass through, Rhone always manages to find my ship and draw near.
♢♢
I drained the last of my cup.
“So that means… if Oze doesn’t come back here, he’ll… he’ll burn, won’t he? In agony.”
Aochi’s voice trembled with fear and righteousness.
“I’ll say it again—don’t even think about storming onto the other ship. Rhone took Oze as a threat against me. Oze has strong life force. Left alone, he’ll definitely reach the next world. But right now I only have one heart to give. Rhone’s probably planning to make me choose: either hand it to Glasses or to Aochi, and return Oze in exchange. Complicated, I know—do you follow?”
Glasses answered in Aochi’s place.
“In other words, one of us here dies without your heart, and Oze-san dies on that other ship—two deaths. Or Oze-san survives automatically by being here, and one of us lives with your heart—two survivors. He’s forcing you to choose between those outcomes, correct?”
“No.”
I had to correct his confident conclusion.
“Why bother with something that complicated? Rhone knows me. He knows I’ll give both of you hearts if I can. That’s why he’s threatening me this way: if I don’t want Oze to suffer a cruel death—if I don’t want him to burn alive—then I must choose one of you.”
“But hold on—doesn’t the rule say a Harvester has to be alive on board for the ship to move on? You just said you only have one heart left.”
These two were too stifling—I felt parched and stood up.
“The reason a Harvester must be alive is because the ship wills it. Only a Harvester, who has crossed the world’s gates again and again, knows the destination. Without one, passengers would be swallowed by the waves and cast into the sea. But conveniently enough, right now this ship is firmly bound to another with a will of its own. So whether I live or die doesn’t matter. Anyway, I’m thirsty. I’ll fetch some of God’s water. Can’t let myself die before I hand out your hearts.”
Glasses grabbed my sleeve as I turned. He looked down, silent. Damn it. I really was parched.
“…I don’t want this. I don’t want us to die, and I don’t want you to die either. Let’s fight against those rules. There has to be another way.”
If there were, I’d have done it long ago. I bit back the words—arguing would only drag things out.
“…Yeah.”
I said it without meaning it, and turned my back.
Glasses spoke timidly.
“And… what is ‘God,’ anyway?”