Himawari Wa Yoru Ni Saku -

It wasn't a harsh light — not the sterile white of the arcology's lamps, not the angry orange of the flares. It was soft. Golden. The color of honey, of candlelight, of a sunrise she had only seen in old videos. The petals unfurled one by one, each one a tiny lantern, and the warmth that came off them was not heat but something else — something that made her chest ache.

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. Himawari Wa Yoru Ni Saku

The next night, there were two.