Himawari Wa Yoru Ni Saku Review

The night was long. But the sunflowers had only just begun.

On the twenty-first night, it bloomed.

But as she looked at the child's face — lit up for the first time in her life by something that was not a screen or a lamp — Oriko realized something.

The next night, it had grown six inches. Himawari Wa Yoru Ni Saku

By the end of the month, the entire sub-level was a forest of glowing sunflowers, their soft radiance filtering up through the grating, spilling into the lower corridors. People began to notice. At first, they were afraid — the arcology had taught them to fear anything that grew without permission. But fear turned to curiosity, and curiosity to wonder.

The night after that, a foot.

A pale green curl, no bigger than a fingernail, pushing up through the soil. Oriko knelt beside it, her breath fogging the cold air. She touched the stem. It was warm. The night was long

She knew what would happen next. The authorities would come. They would tear out the garden, sterilize the soil, and seal the sub-level forever. That was the way of things. The arcology did not allow miracles.

She sat there until her shift started, watching the sunflower burn in the dark.

Then, on the fifteenth night, she saw it. But as she looked at the child's face

Oriko turned off her headlamp.

She didn't report it.