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Her mother has two dying wishes: “Don’t stop living on my behalf, my dear sunflower! Go out, enjoy the world, and try to help as many people as you can along the way.” and “Damn. I was really fucking hoping to eat that dish once more before I died.”
So, [sunflower] takes it upon herself to fulfill both at the same time.
Kyubey is perched upon a swing when [sunflower] enters the children’s playground, in the exact position she left them. She kneels in front of the cat-rabbit creature, and makes her deal with the devil—
“I Wish I can create food that will cater to anyone’s most desperate need.”
The result is this: she can summon potions to any effect she desires.
[sunflower]’s first creation is a milky white potion, like porridge in a conical flask. She uncorks the flask, draining the contents into a shallow dish. The opaque solution shimmers in iridescent shades, then evaporates, leaving behind a dish from her mother’s hometown.
[sunflower]’s mother cries when she is presented with that dish—even moreso when she takes a bite and discovers the taste to be an authentic replica straight from her childhood.
“Thank you,” her mother whispers, clutching the empty plate with all her remaining strength. “Now I can die without regrets.”
[sunflower] smiles in reply, and thinks, now, so can I.
A few days later, [sunflower] buries her mother. Staring at the gravestone (plain, grey, lifeless, so unlike her mother it pains her to look at), she regrets.
“Would you not prefer to Wish your mother a healthy and prosperous life?” Kyubey asked, that day in the park.
“No,” [sunflower] shakes her head, so certain that her decision is the right one—so certain she won’t ever regret this. “That isn’t what my mother would want.”
but isn’t that what
I
want?
(“Don’t stop living just because I’m gone, sunflower!” her mother had made her promise, time and again.)
but mother, you never left instructions on how to do that.
how do you ever expect me to fulfill your wish?
[sunflower] goes through her days like a ghost, afterwards. Every day like the one before, a pale imitation of life. She is a broken recording repeating itself over and over and over, but she doesn’t know how to press pause and switch over to a new soundtrack.
Wake up (when will she stop waking up?), eat breakfast (stale and disgusting), clean the house (not like there’ll be anybody here to appreciate the tidiness), eat lunch (why does she still bother cooking?), hunt witches (sometimes she wishes she’ll misstep and fail to dodge a blow), return home (not that much different from the streets), eat dinner (not like food can fill the emptiness in her chest), take a bath (what a waste of perfectly good water), go to bed (finally).
Pause. Rewind. Repeat. She wakes up again.
I’m sorry, mother, but you made a liar out of me.
And then, one day [sunflower] stumbles upon a girl on death’s door.
A magical girl, to be specific—that much is clear through the ring on the girl’s hand and the copper mark on the nail of that same finger, although the girl is much too injured to even maintain her transformation. Her lifeblood spills across the ground like a blooming red poppy, staining the girl’s auburn hair a stark crimson.
[sunflower] can’t help but stare—at the lacerations that litter the injured girl’s body, so deep that bone-white peeks through the blood-red of the wounds. Even when her mother died, it wasn’t so…wasn’t this…
Kyubey jumps down from [sunflower]’s shoulder, strolling to sit at the boundary between fresh blood and dry ground. “Aren’t you going to save her life?” they ask, tilting their head. “You’re running out of time, you know.”
That is—right. [sunflower] snaps into action, fumbling to remove the flasks strapped to her waist.
Finally managing to unlatch a vial containing golden nectar, [sunflower] kneels next to the injured girl, trying not to grimace at the sensation of warm blood soaking her dress. Propping the girl’s head up at a slight angle, she pours the healing potion down the girl’s throat, pausing periodically to massage the girl’s throat like she saw people do in tv dramas.
The girl’s wounds glow golden. They slowly begin to knit back up.
A pause. [sunflower] holds her breath in anticipation, waiting for a reaction from the girl. Nothing—except for a slight crease between the girl’s brows.
And then—the girl’s eyes snap open. With the agility of a seasoned fighter, she rolls to her feet away from [sunflower], glaring warily at her.
“What did you do to me?” the girl demands, raising her fists in front of her. In a flash of crimson light, strips of cloth dance up her skin, forming into a magical girl uniform.
“Nothing.” [sunflower] raises her hands in surrender. The girl narrows her eyes at the glowing vial in her hand. Opps—that can be constructed as a threat, can’t it?
[sunflower] winces, and lowers her arms again. “I only healed your wounds. That’s all I did. I promise.”
The girl narrows her eyes, “And what do you want from me?”
[sunflower] shrugs, then hesitates. Doesn’t this girl deserve an explanation? Besides, it isn’t like talking things out will hurt. “I just didn’t want to see a magical girl bleed out in front of me, able to do something but not doing so.” she smiles weakly, “That isn’t what my mother would want from me.”
The girl scoffs, disbelieving, but [sunflower] doesn’t let that wipe the sincerity from her face. “I mean it. All I wanted was to heal you.”
The girl’s sneer wavers, before vanishing completely. “You…” is [sunflower] hallucinating, or is that shock in the girl’s voice? The girl swallows. “…fine. Don’t expect me to owe you.”
[sunflower] nods. The girl bares her teeth one last time, as if to assure herself she still has the upper hand. Then, with an abrupt turn, the girl bounds away to wherever she came from, leaving behind a drying pool of blood and half a vial of healing potion.
[sunflower] sits down. The healing potion is still glowing slightly, the glass vial warm in her palms. “I…saved her.” she murmurs, marveling at the sensation of warmth that is creeping down her arms into her chest. “I saved her. I made a difference.”
I…don’t feel empty anymore, she doesn’t say.
(“try to help as many people as you can along the way”—is that why her mother told her so?)
(“to live”—but how to live—is this the meaning of life?)
“You did well,” Kyubey observes neutrally. She glances up—since when did the fur of the cat-rabbit creature look so vivid, their eyes so bright, and the golden rings around their ears so majestic? She feels like she is seeing the world in saturation for the first time in her life. “What are you going to do now?”
What should she do with her life? The question—so daunting mere minutes ago, suddenly seems to have such an obvious solution.
“I’m going to keep living,” she decides, standing up, “I will travel the world, and help as many magical girls as I can along the way.”
mother, I promised I’d fulfill both of your wishes, and I’m finally going to do so now.
will you be proud of me, when we reunite in heaven at this journey’s end?
she stands in a spacious kitchen, herbs and spices stocking every shelf. there is a pot of golden nectar in front of her, slowly simmering on the stove. she raises her hand, and a soup ladle manifests in her palm. dipping the ladle into the pot, she brings the nectar to her lips—just for a small sip.
golden liquid spills into her mouth, through her veins, into her bones. she gasps, throwing her head back. her honey brown hair glows and grows, lengthening into blonde tresses that spiral down her back. brown skin shines golden, thrumming with magic. amber fibres spiral from her veins, clothing her in a traveller’s cloak. her soul gem rises from her finger, molding into a cloak clasp to rest upon her collar.
She spoons the nectar into the vials that line the wall, almost on instinct, and watches as the liquids fade into blue and red and orange and black, every color visible to the human eye and then some. the vials attach themselves to her waist, now covered by a brown traveller’s dress and a white apron. the potions will guide her path, make her stronger and ready to face any obstacle on her travels.
she opens her brown eyes, back in the real world. not a moment has passed since she first pulled her transformation from her golden gem.
the Traveller’s smiles. Whatever magical girl she meets on her journey, she will be sure to help them as best as she can.