Our Bright and Cheerful Sunlight

My eyes lingered on the photo on the wall as the memories associated with it began to wash away, returning my mind back to reality.

Ah that’s right… I remembered, I’m the team’s memory keeper…

“For someone with such an ability, it’s kind of funny how that’s the thing you’re forgetting the most.”

Shut up, I wanted to say out loud, but I knew Dahlia was right. She was always right about things like this. She was the team’s sunlight after all; tasked with shining away any emotional troubles we had.

As I continued staring at the photo, my eyes traced over each of their faces one by one from left to right.

Peony, our pointwoman, Hyacinth, our sniper, Iris, our leader, Hazel, our medic, Dahlia, our assault rifleman, and me… our memory keeper… and now that all that’s left is me, it’s more important than ever that I fulfill my duties… but how?

I warily looked over at the scattered photos at the ground, and my camera that fell out of its bag when I threw it. Right now, it was still too painful to look at them properly, and I was afraid that if I did, it would trigger another memory flood—one that wasn’t in my favor.

Remembering them by pictures like I usually do isn’t going to cut it, I realized, so what other options do I have left?

As I brainstormed different ideas, I suddenly remembered the flower capsules that Max and Lyra had.

“Once we successfully grow a flower we keep them in these little capsules that preserve them for up to 2 years.”

“Which is more than enough time given that we only have a year left.”

Flowers… what a beautiful way to remember them, I thought.

It wasn’t a coincidence that all of our code names were flowers—our captains just felt that it was poetic considering our enemy was called the Wilted. However, what did seem coincidental was how the names were delegated amongst us.

Iris, the flower of trust and courage, given to our leader.

Peony, the flower of honor and love, given to our righteous defender.

Dahlia, the flower representing perseverance and positivity, given to the one that always reminded us of the good things we had.

Hyacinth, the flower of sorrow and regret, given to the one who always seemed the most reserved.

And last but not least, Hazel, the flower of wisdom and knowledge, given to our oldest and most knowledgeable medic.

Not only were these flowers their code names, but they also seemed to perfectly encapsulate their personalities and lives.

Simply just growing these flowers in their honor wasn’t in my nature however. I had to do more—I had to remember them in a way that was both achievable within a year and enough so that it was fulfilling.

I looked back at the photo on the wall, bracing myself for another memory flood, but surprisingly it didn't come. It was the first time in a long time that a picture brought more happiness than sadness, and perhaps that’s what caused the offset.

The march down south, I remembered, starting from the place we first met, each of them died in one of the various skirmishes that followed.

Despite being the second to die, Dahlia’s location of death was actually the furthest point down south in comparison to where everyone else had died. Most of the battles we fought in as a team during the march were actually in the various forests and other terrains around the mountain range, and by the time we actually made it to the south, I was the only one left.

Hazel never even got the chance to make it back to her side of the mountain range, I realized, but still, that’s even more of a reason why I have to carry on her legacy.

Making it back to her home city where her family was located wasn’t an option however. Azalea was right that a year wasn’t a long time, especially since I’ve already wasted 2 months moping around. There was also the chance that neither them nor the city they lived in still existed there anymore.

So the only option is upwards, I thought, towards the place where we first met. It’s the only way to give everyone an equal amount of remembrance anyway. The problem is remembering the path to and the exact locations of where they died.

I looked at the scattered photos on the ground once more.

Well… it’s not like I’m out of options on that issue but I’d rather not…

                                                                       -ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

“So… you’re leaving?” Mr. Akizuki asks as I haul my bag of photos onto the table.

I had meticulously swept the photos into a pile before placing them inside the bag, being careful so as to not look at them.

“I was… reminded of my role on the team, and I realized that I haven’t been fulfilling my duties as the team’s memory keeper,” I explained, “with less than 10 months left, I have to get moving now if I’m to honor each one of them properly. The only problem is that with my fragmented memory, the exact directions to each of their deathplaces is a little foggy… so if you don’t mind the trouble, could you help me with organizing each of their photos so I can use them to travel?”

I looked at them for a response, but instead their faces were both filled with a stunned silence. Then, suddenly, Mrs. Akizuki walks over to my bag and begins to slowly unzip it as I warily look away.

“...Photos of our little girl…?” she says, her voice quiet and shaky as if on the brink of crying.

What? I wondered as I heard the shuffling of photos in the bag.

“We… get to see her again… after so long…” Mr. Akizuki murmurs out as I turned back to see the both of them with tears streaming down their eyes.

Of course… I realized, why am I thinking about the others when Dahlia’s memory hasn’t been rightfully preserved yet?

I had spent so long dwelling on my own sadness and depression, that I had forgotten that the two most important people to Dahlia were grieving as well. Even though I’ve spent the past month on their farm, because they never pressed me about her for the sake of my mental state, I had completely forgotten about their feelings.

How long have they been holding this in? I wondered, how long have they wanted to know about their child but refrained from asking because they worried about me? It’s not right. They’re good people, and even Dahlia herself said that she wanted her parents to know about her before she died. It was in front of me the entire time but I had been too selfish to see it…

As the Akizukis dug through the photos, before I could stop myself, I began to blurt out, “Dahlia… loved honey biscuits. There wasn’t a week that went by without her talking about them… she loved to skip rocks, she loved running ahead of the group, she loved telling stories about her time on the farm, she always…! ALWAYS made sure that not a single one of us felt like our roles or abilities were completely useless on the team…”

I felt a pair of firm arms wrap around me, as I realized that I had begun crying with the two of them as well—and for the first time in a long time, doing so felt good. Doing so didn’t make me feel like I was going to spiral further into depression.

“That sounds like our girl alright,” Mr. Akizuki said, his voice pained but reassured.

“Just the way we remembered her,” Mrs. Akizuki added.

“She loved you guys…” I croaked out as I cried between their arms, “she loved you guys so, so much… and she wanted me to let you know that even before she died, she was still the bright, happy, cheerful, girl you always knew her as—nothing more, and absolutely nothing less.”

I felt their arms grip me into an even tighter embrace as the three of us continued to cry and cry and cry, over the loss of our bright and cheerful sunlight.

                                                                        -ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

I gently placed a flower capsule containing a large, red, dinnerplate dahlia over the grave that her parents had set up for her.

It was a simple grave—a large tombstone no bigger than 3 feet tall engraved with her name and the details of her life—and it was located along the outskirts of the farm in front of the surrounding forest. It was the type of setup that Dahlia would’ve appreciated.

“I know it’s rude to rush you but… we’ve got to get going if you want to catch the next carriage,” Mr. Takayama says as he stands next to his horses.

I stood up from Dahlia’s grave, brushing the dirt off my wings and skirt.

“It’s okay,” I said, “I’m ready.”

With Dahlia’s wishes passed on, it was now time to move on to the next closest grave; Iris’s. Having died in one of the brutal skirmishes in the mountains, I needed an easy way to make it up there if I wanted to reach everyone’s deathplace within the time I had left, and fortunately enough Mr. Takayama offered to give me a lift through the makeshift food transportation system that he and his fellow distributors had set up.

After climbing into the back, I placed my bag on my lap, checking one last time to make sure that everything was in there. Along with a few other essential items, the photos that had once plagued the interior were now properly organized and turned away from me so that I could choose to look at each one when I felt that I was ready.

The bag also contained 9 flower capsules—two of each kind—one to plant over their graves and one to bring with me to my final destination; the place where we had first met.

As the carriage began to move, I took one last look back at Dahlia’s farm.

Knowing that the world was ending made it harder to miss a place I would never see again.