Author's Notes: Well. I was feeling… a bit sappy after getting hyper and eating too much chocolate.

Here's my first Beyblade one-shot. I won't tell you more. Enjoy!

There is a pairing but, it doesn't really matter. It's all emotional.

Daffodils

Daffodils. She loved them. She loved the color of them; how they reminded her of the sun shining brightly in the cloudless sky or how her favorite gold bracelet glimmered in daylight. There was no doubt that her symbol was the sun. She shone brightly in any conditions. She was able to cheer anyone up and I wondered if she would ever fade away. I wondered if her light would fade away one day. I wish that I didn't think about it, because it seemed like I cursed her.

Her hair was an endless black and her eyes a mahogany. Her clothes consisted of light colored tops and navy jeans. Never did she wear the color of black because she believed that it brought bad luck.

Whatever she believed in, I believed it too.

Because she was the one who set all the rules for me. And I followed them willingly. She was my model… I succeeded to follow her… but at the same time, I failed.

She was five years older than I was. So she was always there for me. She never left home just because of me. Even when I turned old enough to be independent, she took care of me. Not directly, but I knew that she was there. She didn't have to tell me that she cared. I knew. I just did.

Her smile was the sun. Her eyes were the stars and her hair the universe because it was so long and never-ending. I remember when I was little she would hold me in her arms. I used to call her 'mommy' too. I was sweet then. But I changed.

Even though she was full of joy and sunlight, she taught me to be strong and mean. She taught me about the evils of the world; how even she changes outside of home, how she bossed people around and has been rude to them. I didn't understand then… how could such a nice person even try to be rude and nevertheless succeed. Maybe I knew the nice side of her. I always did. I never knew her sorrows.

I would let my head drop on her shoulder. She would always support me. She would pat me and shush me. It wasn't a motherly love; it was just care. By the age of the seven, I realized that she wasn't my mother.

She was too good to be my mother.

Her arms were long and her skin was silky. Her breath was warm and her voice the most soothing. Her caress was one of an angel and her voice probably a gift of the Muses. Her hair would be let loose, hanging carelessly over her shoulders and I used to find myself playing with it. She would laugh at me, not meanly but a soft and soothing chuckle.

She taught me how to braid her hair, taking three strands and bring one over the other… I remember when she first did, everything turned out perfect but when I tried, I failed miserably. But after several tries, I perfected my imitation of her braiding. I tried to do that with everything else. Following her was my goal.

The thing was, she was my sister. We even looked like siblings; our eyes were the same shade of ruby that was rare in town.

But the truth was… she wasn't my sister. I only found out later than she was … adopted.

I couldn't understand how her parents would abandon such a lovely child, had they known what she's grown up to be.

But she told me that she believed that her parents left her for a greater reason and she wished that they rested in peace wherever they were.

I told her that she was too nice.

All she did was to chuckle at me. That light chuckle that was remind of sunlight, of daffodils.

She wasn't just my adoptive sister. She was all that I had. I had no parents. Not ones that actually came home every month.

She was my everything.

My teacher, my mother, my sister, my guardian, my angel, my hope, my model, my encouragement, my happiness, my love.

When I first had the idea that I could have been in love with her… with her pure radiance. I told my best friend and he only opened his month and laughed out loud. He patted on my shoulder and shook his head.

He asked me if I started smoking pot.

No one understood my feelings. But I wasn't that devastated because she was still there. I would still hug her whenever I saw her, I would bury my head in her chest and we would sing together, whether it sounded horrible or wonderful, we didn't care. It was just … soothing.

I remember once we went to the countryside and she told me that she had a surprise for me. I really didn't know why because it seemed like she waited for the whole year to show me what was there.

When I saw it from the distance, I grinned, which was very rare of me. It was a field of yellow and white daffodils all facing the sun and looked like they were smiling towards her. She was dressed in a light blue dress that day. The two straps that tied her dress together danced in the wind. I started tapping my foot and she started her dance. She was giggling giddily, just like a little child, and she spun in circles. She kicked her shoes off carelessly and stepped into the field of daffodils.

It seemed like she was so light that she was floating in the air because no flower was damaged. Her arms were stretched out and she closed her eyes but she was still grinning widely, from one ear to another.

I only stood there, looking at her spinning around and dancing carelessly in the field of yellow, her dress blending into the sky in the background. It was the perfect view.

I only watched her, not knowing that such a bright angel would fall one day and trip. She fell flat on the ground, her pale face covered with pain and sorrow. I was horrified.

I was speechless.

Speechless.

I was so scared.

So confused.

Why would anyone take such a perfect human away? Why? She was so happy. She made me so happy.

I ran away, too confused to even look at her one last time.

The only thing that I figured that I could do for her after her fall was to find her real parents. I hired an investigator to work with the case. I detached myself completely from everything related to her. Oh how foolish I was.

I was too scared.

Too scared to admit that I killed her.

I had nightmares about it. For days and weeks and months. I passed her funeral, too much of a coward to even face anyone. I stayed locked in my room all day. The picture frame that contained a picture of us, smiling, was covered by a velvet black material.

I couldn't.

I couldn't even look at her. She was so pure. I was… no, I still am so evil. I still am. I could never be like her even though I was as successful as she was financially and we were no different.

It was just my heart.

At least I fulfilled her wish to bury her in a proper place for her.

In that field of daffodils.

There stood a slate tombstone, matching the color of my hair, contrasting with the pale yellow and white daffodils that stood to the sunlight.

They even looked less alive. When she was there, they seemed to be singing music for her to dance with. They seemed to be bringing joy to her but to me, they were just another sign of sorrow.

I gripped my messy hair, feeling the pain rushing through my body. I collapsed on my knees, not caring how my suit would be dirty. I brushed away the dirt that covered the deep engravings of the tombstone.

R.I.P. – Dagmar Hiwatari, 1983-2005

She was so young. Only 22.

I should have died instead of her… anyone but her!

She was my everything.

My hands curled into balls unconsciously and I pounded on the muddy ground mercilessly. I felt a lump in my throat and I breathed slowly.

For a moment, everything was quiet and I closed my eyes, trying to picture her light blue dress blending with the sky and her smile, matching the radiance of the daffodils. But everything faded away quickly, replaced by flame and ash.

"Argh!"

Smoke rose to the cloudless sky. A shade of grey rising into the vast blue ocean.

There was crumbling and a smell that satisfied my nose at the moment.

I felt myself calmed down and as my hands uncurled, the smoke disappeared and the smell did too. I opened my eyes slowly. There were no tears to be shed. They've already been shed. My reservoir was empty. All gone since a year ago. She was gone for so long… I wasn't brave enough to come here.

I'm not sure if I still am brave enough for her. Even though she never participated in athletic events, I knew that she was stronger than I am.

She never gave up.

She was my courage. My radiance. My daffodil. My sunlight when it rained. And seeing her was like seeing the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. The gold glimmering under the sunlight so giddily.

I gave a heavy sigh and turned my head to look at my right hand. Under it was a bouquet of daffodils that I'd just picked from the field. They were all pale yellow; those were her favorites because she found the white ones too plain, too neutral. Yellow was happier for her.

I already knew what had happened to the other daffodils of the field. I turned my head to an angle and saw what I pictured my head.

A field.

It was just a field.

With burned leftovers of leaves and flowers.

Only ashes. Nothing else.

Then I looked at the daffodils crushed under my hand. I smiled slightly and placed them carefully beside her tombstone.

I ran my fingers through my hair carelessly and gave another heavy sigh.

"I love you, Dagmar."

It was only then, not knowing why, that I've decided to replant the field with daffodils.

It would be filled with daffodils.

Not white, but yellow daffodils.

Dagmar- Danish name meaning joyous day, bright, joy of the Danes

Author's Notes: I really do hope that if you've read it through, hopefully it wasn't too boring ;) Well, please review. I would love it. Thanks.