March 14th

She looked out through the pearlescent frost covered windows, into a silver white storm that swirled on the crisp air. Snow covered the gardens, covering the tender new green shoots of grass in favor of its alabaster purity. Packages immaculately wrapped in ivory rested untouched upon her desk, Hojo's unwanted offerings of flowers, chocolates, and medicine.

In the eyes of her friends, she saw their transparent confusion. How do you explain the desire for the simplest of gifts? They would never understand. She longed for a smile that showed gleaming white fangs, the twitch of a silvery ear, the scent of forest held in silken white strands of hair.

She offered a wan smile to the three childhood friends. How do you explain what you yourself do not understand? That she craved the caress of sharp white claws, a gleaming white fang raised in her defense.

She watched them in their unsullied innocence as they giggled and whispered of love's mysteries. Images of love based on movies and books. Not seeing them for the pasty, ghastly bleached images they were. They missed the vibrant colors of love. The crimson red of the blood your love shed to protect you. The golden amber of his eyes that shimmered with tears left unshed or filled with concern. They could not understand the sharpest rebuke was only a desperate plea not to endanger yourself.

Arms now laden with packages and books followed twittering girls. A flash of blood red fabric and before her stood the figure of her musing. With a familiar snort of annoyance, the packages were taken from her to be carried by one far stronger.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Another snort and a nose tilted upward in feigned anger. "It's getting cold. Your mother was worried. Here."

An envelope thrust into her hand opened to reveal the white note card. In an almost forgotten art, in an ancient kanji, was a single phrase.

A wave to her friends and she followed the barefoot hanyou, her heart repeating the words of the note. "Happy White Day, Kagome."