Mokou smelled the flowers long before she could peel her eyes open. It was cacophony in scent form that somehow managed to come together to form a striking perfume. She tried to recognise the scent of at least one individual flower in the mix with no success.
Once she was more awake, she discovered that what had been a grassy meadow when she had laid her head down had transformed into a garden. Instead of blades of grass and dandelions, she was resting on a blanket of sweet alyssum and surrounded by primroses and irises so violently violet they seemed more like purple flames than blossoms. Ahead, sunflower stalks rose towards their namesake, their flowers still raw and green.
She lay back down and admired the clusters of lilac blossoms swaying on the branches at the edge of her vision, their scent suddenly distinct and intoxicating now that she could see them. Had they been in bloom when she had last been awake? She couldn't remember. When had she fallen asleep, for that matter? All she knew was that she was more alive breathing in the sudden summer enshrouding than she had been for quite some time now.
The wind carried with it the sound of someone gently humming to themselves. Mokou listened for a while, her eyes still on the lilacs, then spoke without moving. "Did you mean to use me as a flowerbed?"
The tune tapered to silence. Yuuka's voice was as pleasant as ever and ringed from far closer than Mokou had guessed. "Of course not. Corpses make for far better fertiliser than live bodies."
Mokou was careful not to crush the sweet alyssum as she turned to her side to look at Yuuka. She was vaguely aware her new position was bad for her back — and the fact she noticed that was practically a miracle by itself. Either way, she chose to bear it. Her body would recover from anything she put it through one way or another, while the blossoms around her only had one chance.
The section of the meadow Yuuka knelt in was dotted with poppies as red as her dress. She looked at once like a flower herself, one which had only sprouted into existence alongside rest of the meadow's splendour, and like she was as permanent as the ground beneath them. She appeared to have already forgotten Mokou's presence as she tended to the flowers. Her smile as she cupped her hands around a struggling sunflower sapling was as gentle as a dewdrop on a rose petal. Mokou knew her well enough to be certain she would never bestow a look like that upon anything else in the world. Even witnessing it from the sidelines was another small miracle.
Still, she thought she had seen that exact smile once before. When had it been? She only seemed to run into Yuuka once in a century, but even that meant they had met at least...
She sat up and looked away before she blurted out the question that leapt to her tongue. It could wait. For now, she wished to savour the utter sense of calm in the garden for a moment longer.
Looking to her left, she saw the dandelions which had dominated the meadow before hadn't been eradicated: they continued to bloom alongside the poppies and more showy garden plants. They had been weeds, once, then becoming a blessing from the gods, then simply becoming something to grace the lands she wandered through regardless of what anyone else thought of them.
She stood and navigated carefully to where the patch of dandelions was at its thickest. She had expected to see insects once she got close enough to flowers, but she was still surprised to find a bumblebee crawling all over the largest of the dandelions, clearly savouring every moment as it gorged itself on its pollen and nectar. It wasn't alone, either: the longer Mokou stood in place, the greater the number of bumblebees buzzing around the flowers.
"I thought bumblebees were extinct."
She spoke the words to the wind, but Yuuka's ears had always been sharp. "Yes, I feared the same. But it seems they have recovered quite admirably."
Mokou left the bumblebees to their toil and began ambling towards Yuuka, keeping an eye out for more dandelions as she did so. She discovered several which had completed their bloom, their spherical clusters of cloudy seeds swaying in the wind as if begging to fly away.
She bent lower as she walked and snapped the stem of one of the dandelion clocks. It took her several blows to dislodge all of the seeds, but soon enough she got to watch as they floated towards where the sunlight was at its brightest and slowly scattered.
She turned to see Yuuka smiling at her. It was a different smile from the one she had given to the poppies — it was sharper, for one — but it seemed genuine enough.
Mokou placed her hands in her pockets as she studied Yuuka. Suddenly, the question which had attempted to escape from her earlier was simply in the air between them. "Do you ever feel old?"
Yuuka's eyes grew darker. Her smile didn't waver for a second. "At times, yes." She turned away to gaze at the garden and observed it for so long Mokou wasn't certain she ever meant to continue until she suddenly did. "The changing of the seasons keeps me feeling young. Why would I worry about the years on my shoulders when there are new blossoms blooming every single day?"
Mokou watched her in silence for a moment longer, then walked over to stand by her side. She swept her eyes across the flowers all around them, wondering all the while just how differently Yuuka saw them from her. "It's a good thing you relish change."
"Indeed. Still, there is something very delightful about a flower that blooms in all seasons."
Mokou brought her attention back to Yuuka and found herself to be the target of close scrutiny and a bright smile. It was not the smile she usually greeted people with, nor was it the one she reserved for flowers. It was stunning all the same, especially as it reached her eyes and lit them up like rubies.
Mokou extracted her hand from her pocket and held it out. Still smiling, Yuuka took it.
"So." Mokou faced the horizon. "Just how far does this garden stretch on?"
"Quite far. We could take a stroll through it if you happen to have the time."
Mokou flashed a smile at the sun and squeezed Yuuka's hand, breathing in a scent that seemed to contain the flowers of all seasons at once. "I still have all the time in the world."