Alive || 86: Eighty-Six [ vers. ENG ]

memories of sunset

That day, the moon's rays seemed stronger than ever. Every patch of earth was illuminated, revealing the actors of the night: crickets and grasshoppers gave a concert, a frog followed by its friend the tree frog joined them from their home. Sitting in the best seat possible, a leaf flew in the wind across the skies to finally fall next to a window, the last murmurs of someone before falling asleep or the sound of someone else's snoring intermingled in the depths of the night. In the midst of all these souls ready to be swept away by Morpheus, two were moving in different directions.

The older of the two was holding hands with the younger. Both were walking in the direction of the bathroom. The furniture was worn but nobody cared enough to repair it. Just like a certain showerhead, which were no longer of use. The dim light offered by the leftover candle would only last for a few minutes, but fortunately the moon was there to illuminate them.

"Tell me if it hurt."

The younger one nodded in response. The little girl sat down in a chair without a sound. She untied her hair, which she kept in a low ponytail. Part of it fell down her back. Her silver hair was nowhere near as bright as the moonlight. At a glance, you could tell they were unkempt. But a closer look revealed that it was much worse than that.

Standing behind the chair, the eldest refrained from saying anything. She cursed whoever had done this to such a little girl. It was only a guess, but she was certain she couldn't even be twelve. Much less. Her small stature made it difficult to estimate, but since she had a little brother in the same age bracket, she was sure of her guess.

When she tried to put aside her hair, the little girl tensed. And that's when she noticed a burn scar on the back of her neck.

This time she had to bite her cheek to keep herself from hurling the worst insults at people who weren't there and whom she'd probably never see in her life.

"It's all right. It doesn't hurt."

The small voice cut through the silence. She turned to look behind her. Her silver gaze fell on the teenager. Her hair was dark blonde. It was usually tied back in two braids, joined by a ribbon at the end of each. She kept her hair away from her face so it wouldn't get in the way when she had to pilot her Juggernaut. But since it was nighttime, she'd left it loose, revealing a fringe far too long to be called that, as well as waves naturally caused by the braids she wore during the day.

The eldest's indigo eyes rested on the tiny girl who was trying to reassure her, even though it was more than certain that this scar must be a sensitive point. She happened to notice another scar of the same nature as the first, hidden behind the bangs that concealed her forehead.

"Please, Charlize, if it hurts, don't deny it."

Her interlocutor kept eye contact but didn't know what to say right away.

"Okay..." she finally replied. "But it was the surprise that made me react like that... it stopped hurting a long time ago."

"I believe that. I'll be careful though. Turn around now."

She obeyed.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you how to take care of your hair?"

She already knew the answer, but asked anyway. She was answered with a negative nod.

"I see..."

The teenager set to work. She patiently tried to untangle the knots here and there. Armed with water as her only magic potion, she did her utmost to give that silver hair a second life. Then, when she was sure she'd done all she could, she armed herself with a pair of scissors to give concrete form to Charlize's hair, which had suffered first from the mischievous scissor strokes of monsters and then from Charlize's lack of knowledge about how to care for it. She took the time to explain each step, from detangling to shampooing and styling. The work was long, but satisfying enough to imagine the future results. Some parts couldn't be saved, but as time went by, her hair would return to a similar length.

At the time, if Charlize had accepted help in the first place, it was because she had been touched by the kindness of the leader of her first platoon. She had found comfort in her gestures rather than her words. Her smile was the most radiant she'd ever seen. She was slightly glowing. The affection she had when she ruffled her hair for no great reason, or how she always offered to hold her hand when they walked side by side, or simply that warmth radiating from her fingers. A warmth so comforting that she always kept herself from crying. Charlize had forgotten that a hand could offer so much more than hurtful blows, and this time she would engrave it somewhere in her heart, never to forget it again.

Daysie Wehrle could feel her body getting weaker. Her heartbeat would soon slow. Blood from her stomach wound, or from her arm, trickled down to her feet. Her clothes were stained, but the liquid no longer warmed her. With each passing second, her vision diminished. Soon she would no longer be able to make out what lay before her, so she decided to engrave in her memory the colors of her last sunset.

The faint sound of footsteps approaching immediately gave her the identity of the person coming towards her. Little Charlize.

At the end of her rope and feeling her way out, she still tried to smile.

"Stay where you are, Lizzy."

The footsteps stopped. But since she didn't say anything after, she came a little closer.

"Please, Lizzy..."

Daysie's voice didn't carry far enough, so she used Para-Raid communication.

"I know it's foolish but..."

The teenager was already unable to think straight. She was seeing bits and pieces of memories from her childhood. Her parents. Her little brother Jayden. Their life in a country that had abandoned them. Then the short life she had spent on this battlefield.

Now, faced with her own death, she could confess her deepest thoughts. She had never been a ray of sunshine. In fact, she struggled to keep that smile on her lips. Fear gripped her every second. She had simply found strength in doing so. Helping others. Maybe she was trying to perpetuate her role as big sister when she didn't even know if her little brother was still alive. Or maybe...

"Could you...?"

Could you remember my smile? Don't look back and keep the best of those memories we shared together...

She already had no strength left to go on.

She hoped Charlize wouldn't be able to see her like this. Luckily she was already little, so she wouldn't see anything until she tried to climb on her Juggernaut.

"I promise..."

Charlize stopped in front of the machine. She touched the cold metal with her right hand.

" I'll always remember your smile, Daysie."

Daysie. The way she'd pronounced her name betrayed the sobs she'd been holding back with all her being.

Daysie Wehrle smiled. Not because she had to, but because she wanted to. Right now. Only now.

"Thank you.  Please stay alive. Don't give up, Charlize..."

... The way you live is not wrong.

Daysie couldn't have said that last sentence.

Charlize had guessed it.

Or maybe she wanted to believe she'd said it.

In the end, all that remains of that day are memories of a sunset whose rays emitted a warmth similar to that of a girl whose smile will never be forgotten.