God
The transition had begun.
Before me sat the human who resisted me until the very end.His vacant expression pained me.
――I wanted to save him. The thought of the endless loneliness awaiting him tightened my chest.
Why will no one ever understand how I feel?
They all look at me and call me “beautiful,” yet behind those words they push me away and never accept me.
Even the Harvester of Hearts, whom I once loved so dearly, looked at me with eyes of contempt. That alone hurt me deeply. And though he entered my left eye, he thrashed about inside, refusing to settle as one of my cells.
Because of that, my left eye now exists carrying the Harvester’s consciousness within it. I had wished for it to become truly mine.
And then there was the other Harvester, the one who called himself Rhone.
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He went so far as to give his own heart to that premature soul—one that should have burned out midway through the transition. What will become of that fragile child? There is no precedent, so I cannot know.
Even what that heart-eating bird said was beyond my knowledge.
The black cosmos—
I had heard that yellow cosmos flowers were fond of drinking my blood. But I never knew they could darken into black. And why was that black cosmos inside the chest of the bird that devours hearts?
Those children act beyond my comprehension, driven by whims.
Speaking of whims—the Watcher Bird as well.
He said he had fallen in “love” with one of the personalities inside a body. I cannot grasp the meaning. Is such a feeling strong enough to betray me? When we reach the next world, I shall ask him.
The other personalities within the human seated before me will all forget everything and begin new lives. Only this true self will remain unable to forget, condemned to suffering.
Like all the others I killed, whose eternal loneliness I could not bear to watch… But this one declared he would endure it. Can you truly perform a miracle? Can you break free of that dense cloud of solitude which even I cannot tear apart?
――I want to see it.
“Come.”
Expecting rejection, I reached out my arm toward the human before me.
The sorrow of not being remembered, the sorrow of not being understood—I know it better than anyone. And now you too will carry such a weight for all your days.
Yet against my expectations, the boy leaned into my chest.
Will you believe in me?
“You have me.”
So I spoke, wishing that one day my left eye would bring forth a miracle to save this warm human.