[Chibi Creative Awards] "Where the Heart Resides" | Short Story "Sea of Others"

📙 I am participating in Kawamura-san's [Chibi Creative Awards].

📗 The chosen theme is Kakerun-san's "Where the Heart Resides".

▼ Main Story

📖 [Short Story] Sea of Others

Chapter 1: Borrowed Heartbeat

At three in the morning, I wake up to the scent of a sea I do not know.

The smell of salt, wet rocks, and a hint of rusted iron. There is no way such things could be in the bedroom of a Tokyo apartment.

Haruka Asakura placed a hand on her chest. Beneath her palm, her heart was racing. As if it were being chased by someone.

Six months ago, Haruka received this heart from someone else. Dilated cardiomyopathy. After waiting three years for a transplant, the heartbeat finally came to her. For a while after the surgery, her days were spent just sleeping, and she never had dreams.

It has been about a month since the sea started appearing. At first, it was a blurry landscape. Night after night, its outlines have grown sharper.

A gray sea. Jagged rocks. A white lighthouse in the distance. And a red bridge. The vermilion railings glow as if burning, absorbing the setting sun. Even though it is a place I have never been, the soles of my feet remember the coldness of those rocks.

"It's stress."

My doctor, Taniguchi, said that with a smile. He didn't even look up from my medical chart.

"Many people become mentally unstable after a transplant. Shall I prescribe some sleeping pills?"

Haruka shook her head. She hadn't come to talk about medication.

"Doctor. Is it possible for someone who has received a transplant to feel... memories, or something like that, from the person who provided it?"

Taniguchi's pen stopped. Just for a split second. Then, he said with his usual calm expression,

"The term 'cellular memory' is floating around on the internet, but there is no medical basis for it."

No basis. It wasn't a denial, either.

That night, too, Haruka was at the sea. Someone's voice called out. This time, clearly.

"--Stop it."

It was a young man's voice. A hand reaching out desperately toward someone. And then, the sensation of falling. That floating feeling that makes the pit of your stomach rise.

Haruka woke up to her own scream. Her throat tasted salty.

Chapter 2: Chart of Memories

Her own body was gradually becoming someone else's.

She realized this at the convenience store checkout. Without thinking, Haruka had put a salted salmon rice ball, dried squid, and salted kelp into her basket. She had originally been a person who preferred mild flavors. She barely even used soy sauce.

Before she knew it, she was holding her chopsticks in her left hand, too.

"Doctor, was I left-handed?"

When she asked Taniguchi jokingly, he replied with a straight face, "Your dominant hand doesn't just change." But it had changed. When she held a pen in her right hand, her fingers hesitated.

She couldn't focus on her translation work either, and missed two deadlines. For twenty years, she had made a living by translating other people's words into Japanese.

To take in people's thoughts and carry them without spilling a drop. That was Haruka's job. Yet now, the memories of someone she hadn't even taken in were flowing into her chest on their own.

The nightly sea was gradually taking shape.

A red bridge at the base of a lighthouse. A small fishing port beyond the bridge. And that voice. "Stop it." A hand trying to hold someone back. Two presences struggling. Being shaken off. Falling.

--It wasn't just an accident. Someone was on that bridge.

The moment she thought that, her fingertips turned cold. Haruka pressed her chest. What did the owner of this heart see there that night?

She called the transplant coordinator. In principle, donor information cannot be disclosed at all. The administrative voice politely built a wall. Not age, not gender, not the circumstances of their death. Nothing at all.

"At least tell me if it was an accident or an illness."

"I cannot answer that."

Putting down the receiver, Haruka looked out the window. There is no sea in the Tokyo sky.

Yet, she felt she knew where she was going. If that vermilion bridge actually existed somewhere.

I type "lighthouse, vermilion bridge, fishing port" into the computer. My fingers no longer hesitated.

Chapter 3: The Undisclosed Name

A single photograph stopped Haruka's breathing.

A small fishing town in the south of the Kii Peninsula. An old photo posted on a personal blog. At the base of a white lighthouse, a vermilion bridge was arched. At the exact angle I had seen in my dreams.

Haruka took the Shinkansen and a limited express train that very day. Changing trains in Nagoya, she headed south along the coast. The scenery outside the window began to overlap with her memories. Every time she passed through a tunnel, her heartbeat quickened. It was as if this heart remembered the way home.

When she got off at the station, she smelled the tide. It was the scent of that night.

The town was small. Two guesthouses, one diner. A thirty-minute walk to the lighthouse. The vermilion bridge was more weathered than she had imagined. The paint on the railings was peeling, and below, the waves licked at the rocks.

Haruka stopped in the middle of the bridge.

This is it. My heart remembers this sensation. When she touched the railing, her fingertips trembled. A voice saying "Stop it" echoed deep in her ears. Someone, right here, into this sea...

"Are you a tourist?"

When she turned around, a sun-tanned old man was standing there. He looked like a fisherman. When Haruka stumbled over her words, the old man gestured with his chin toward the area under the bridge.

"A young one died there half a year ago. They say it was an accident."

An accident. Haruka did not miss the slight drop in the old man's voice at that word.

"What was that person's name?"

The old man was silent for a while, then looked out at the sea.

"A kid named Kaname. ...Why are you asking about that?"

Haruka could not answer. Only, deep in her chest, the borrowed heart gave a single, heavy thud.

Kaname. This heart certainly knew that name.

Chapter 4: The Town of Roaring Tides

Whenever she mentioned the name Kaname, the townspeople would uniformly shut their mouths.

The owner of the guesthouse repeated, 'It was an accident, an accident,' twice, even though I hadn't asked. It was as if he were trying to convince himself.

It was the landlady of the dining hall who gave me a clue. As she served the miso soup, when Haruka mentioned Kaname's name, she stopped her hand and lowered her eyes.

'That boy had an older sister. Waka-san. They lost their parents early and grew up just the two of them. Kaname was working in Tokyo, but he came back here shortly before he passed away.'

The landlady stopped herself abruptly after saying that much, as if she realized she had said too much.

'Now, Waka-san lives all alone in a house on the outskirts of town... Please, let's leave that story alone now.'

Haruka gathered the fragments, one by one.

Kaname was twenty-four. He was left-handed and liked dried squid. Half a year ago, in the autumn, he fell from that vermilion bridge and died. Half a year ago—Haruka's chest tightened. It was around the same time as her own transplant. Without even needing to count the dates, her body knew. The day this heart began to beat and the day Kaname left this world were surely the same.

The town calls it an 'accident.' But Haruka's memory tells her that there was someone else on that bridge. A hand trying to hold him back. The sensation of being shaken off.

What on earth is this?

That night, there was a note left at the entrance of the guesthouse.

'Do not pry any further. Please leave Kaname alone.'

The handwriting was trembling. It felt less like anger and more like a plea.

It is a small town. An outsider is sniffing around about Kaname. That rumor must have reached every corner by evening. Haruka remembered the landlady's voice from earlier that day. Kaname's sister, who lives alone on the outskirts of town.

Could this desperate handwriting be... from that person?

Haruka clutched the letter. The next morning, she headed toward the house on the outskirts of town.

Chapter 5: The Silent Town

Waka seemed to sense something even before Haruka introduced herself.

Seeing Haruka standing at the entrance, the thin woman quietly lowered her eyes. She looked to be just a little over thirty.

'You are the person from Tokyo, aren't you? The one who has been going around asking about Kaname.'

'I'm sorry for acting so presumptuously.'

Please, come inside. It's too conspicuous out here.

Inside the house, time had stopped. On the Buddhist altar was a photograph of a young man. He was smiling, holding a fishing rod in his left hand. Haruka's heart skipped a beat again. She felt like she knew this face.

My younger brother died in an accident, Waka said, setting down a teacup. He fell from the bridge. That's all there is to it.

Was it really an accident?

Waka's hand froze. A long silence followed. Only the sound of the clock on the wall marked the passing of time in the room.

What could you possibly know about it?

Her voice was sharp. Haruka couldn't choose her words carefully. About that bridge. About the hand trying to hold someone back. If she told her everything, she would be thought of as a crazy woman. But she had come this far and couldn't turn back.

I... I feel like I heard a voice on that bridge, someone desperately trying to hold someone else back.

The color drained from Waka's face. The teacup rolled onto the tatami mat.

Go home. Please, I'm begging you, go home.

That reaction said it all. It wasn't an accident. This woman knew. And she was keeping it locked tightly in her heart. Driven not by certainty, but by the pounding in her own chest, Haruka continued.

Waka-san. You were there that night, weren't you?

Waka looked at Haruka with a face that looked like it was about to cry. Then, she said, as if squeezing the words out.

...Yes. I was. I killed him.

Chapter 6: The Inverted Truth

I killed him.

Haruka had misunderstood the meaning of Waka's words. At least for a while.

My husband died of an illness two years ago, Waka began, still staring at the tatami. I have no children. In this town, Kaname was my only family left. But Kaname has his own life in Tokyo. I gradually stopped knowing what I was living for.

Her words came in fragments.

That night, I went to the bridge. I thought I would end it all. I tried to climb over the railing.

Haruka's breath hitched. That sensation of floating. The feeling of falling. That was it.

"That's when Kaname arrived. Perhaps it was a premonition, but for some reason, he had returned from Tokyo that day of all days. He noticed I wasn't home and went looking for me. He found me on the bridge and—he screamed, 'Don't do it.'"

"Don't do it." That voice. It wasn't a scream directed at an assailant. It was the voice of a brother trying to stop his sister from throwing herself into the sea.

"Kaname grabbed me from behind and tried to pull me away from the railing. I struggled. I told him to let go. We wrestled... and in the recoil of him pushing me back toward the inside, he..."

Waka's shoulders shook violently.

"He went over the edge. I reached out. I couldn't reach him. As he fell, Kaname looked at me and smiled. ...'Live, Nee-chan,' he said."

The hand that tried to stop her. The sensation of being shaken off. The recoil of being pushed back as if shoved. Everything Haruka's memory had shown her was flipped, and now it all made sense. It wasn't a scene of assault. It was the entire sequence of a brother sacrificing his own life to save his sister's.

"He hit his head on the rocks. I pulled him up immediately and kept calling his name. He opened his eyes just once. 'Make it... an accident. Don't tell anyone that Nee-chan tried to jump. Just say I slipped. That's fine.' He held my hand... and after that, he never opened his eyes again."

Haruka covered her mouth with both hands.

"At the hospital, they said he was brain-dead. He had signed an organ donor card on the back of his license. He was always that kind of boy. So, while his heart was still able to beat, it went to someone, somewhere. That very same day. Without me ever being told who or where."

That very same day. That day, half a year ago. Everything connected in a single line.

The reason for the town's silence was finally clear. This small town had been protecting Kaname's wish. They had treated it as an accident to leave Waka, who had tried to throw her life away, in peace.

Tears spilled from Haruka's eyes. The memory that shouldn't have been hers now held meaning. What this heart had been showing her wasn't an accusation. It was the final view of a younger brother who had handed his sister the command to "live."

Haruka placed a hand over her chest. The heartbeat was quiet. It was no longer racing.

Should she tell her? Or should she stay silent and go home? Haruka's hands were clenched tightly on her lap.

Chapter 7: The Gift That Cannot Be Returned

The next morning, Haruka invited Waka to that vermilion bridge.

The sea was calm. As if the rain from last night had been a lie, the lighthouse shone white. The two stood side by side at the railing, looking down at the waves. Waka's face was still stiff. Haruka understood how much pain it caused her to stand in this place.

She hadn't intended to say anything. If she revealed the truth about the donor, it would only bind Waka to the past. That was what she had thought when she came here. She had intended to leave only the feelings of Kaname that her memory had taught her, and then go home quietly.

"I don't think Kaname-san regretted that night at all."

Haruka slowly offered the words she had chosen. For twenty years, she had been entrusted with the feelings of others, carrying them. Delivering the unspoken thoughts to the people who needed to hear them. She realized that this was the translation she was capable of.

"Even when I was falling, I wasn't afraid. I just wanted you to live. That's what I think I felt."

Waka looked at her.

"Why... why would you know something like that?"

Haruka could not answer that question. She tried to evade it. But then, everything Waka had been holding back overflowed from her eyes. She cried out, collapsing right there. The burden she had carried alone for half a year had finally broken through the dam.

"Because of me, that child... If I hadn't gone to a place like that. If only I hadn't been there—"

The moment she heard those words, something within Haruka was decided.

To take this back in silence would not be translation. It would be letting those feelings spill away. It would be the same as her crushing what Kaname had risked his life to give to his sister.

"Waka-san."

Haruka knelt before Waka. She took her trembling hands and guided them to her own chest.

"Please, touch it."

Waka's palm touched Haruka's left chest. Thump, thump—a steady heartbeat pulsed back.

"This is... your younger brother's heart."

Waka gasped. She remained frozen, her eyes wide open.

"Half a year ago, I received a heart transplant. The heart that was brought from that town on that day. By the rules, I shouldn't have known whose it was. But this child—Kaname-san—brought me here. He kept showing me that sea, that bridge, and you, all this time."

Under Waka's palm, the heartbeat pulsed. Thump, thump. As if in response.

"He said it clearly. He said, 'Live.' And even now—like this, he is alive."

Waka wept, collapsing further while keeping her hand on Haruka's chest. This time, they were not tears of remorse. They were the tears of someone whose fingertips had finally reached something they had been unable to touch for a long time.

"Kaname..."

She called his name over and over. To the heartbeat. As if waiting for an answer.

The wind blew. The scent of the tide enveloped the two of them. Haruka simply waited for Waka to finish crying.

Before long, Waka smiled faintly, her face still stained with tears. She narrowed her almond-shaped eyes, just like Kaname's.

"That child is a fool. Always has been. Always putting herself last."

Her voice no longer trembled. It was the voice of someone who had been told to live.

On the train back to Tokyo, Haruka placed a hand over her chest. Thump, thump—her heartbeat returned to her. The question of whose heart this was no longer held any meaning.

The heart does not reside in an organ. It resides within the relationships—in loving someone and being loved by someone.

Kaname died because she wanted her sister to live. That wish passed through Haruka and reached Waka. As if transferring words. As if carrying feelings without spilling a drop.

The heartbeat she once thought was borrowed had, before she knew it, become Haruka's own. And at the same time, it would likely always belong to Kaname as well. As an unreturnable gift, it would continue to pulse within her, carrying the feelings of two people.

Outside the window, the sea flowed by. It was no longer a sea of others.

"End"