It's morning and Ritz has woken up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. I wait patiently as she tries, largely without success, to extricate herself from the all-too-cozy mass of blankets and pillows that is her new bed. The bed, like the room around and all the construction surrounding that, is a testament to just how well Clan Ritz is doing these days. I can remember harder times, though, times when Ritz could only dream of blankets and pillows as she slept on a thin sheet atop the bare earth. I've been with Ritz since the beginning...and since even before that.

Ritz succeeds in getting to her feet; although it's obvious she wants o flop back onto the comforter and doze again, there is clan business to attend to and Ritz never shirks her duties. She's getting dressed now, brushing her rose-colored hair, and still I wait in silence. I know she'll get around to me eventually, and I'll wait as long as need be. And then we're off, Ritz stepping out the door and into the bustle of the largely work-in-progress headquarters of Clan Ritz (an awful lot of skeletal wood framing).

Greeting and good wishes for the day float to us from every direction as Ritz makes her way across the area designated as the 'common room,' although it's currently open to the sky but for a makeshift cloth roof (that doesn't quite cover the whole thing) and pretty much like all the other areas. I'm right with her, of course. I am always with Ritz. You wouldn't expect someone like Ritz to have someone who accompanies her everywhere, and yet here I am. We've been together a long time, and Ritz—with her protests at the use of the word 'caring' in a ten-meter radius—has honestly come to care about me, and it's her choice for me to go with her. I wouldn't if she didn't want me to. I haven't always been with Ritz, but it's been long enough to turn it into one of those 'always' where you don't really mean it but everyone understands what you're saying.

An Assassin, Alice—Viera, of course—says she's had a run-in with bandits from a certain aggressive clan, but neither she nor Ritz seems unduly worried. There aren't many clans that can compete with Clan Ritz these days, and the few that can are on good terms. Then there's Meledi, White Mage, seeking Ritz's help with a rather amusing toad problem. Then Nadia, a Summoner, and a dispute about the correct spelling of Bahamut; the sisters, Cleary and Evey, who inform Ritz that their Fencer comrade Simone might have broken her leg; a whole chorus of voices vying for Ritz's attention, or else just wishing her a happy White Day.

Today is the Viera holiday known as White Day. The origins of this day are rather unclear, but it's common knowledge that the color white is an important symbol to Vieras (as well as the favorite color of most). The Viera don't know why they honor the holiday, but it doesn't matter—they love celebrating the day, and it's a time when petty disagreements are put aside and everyone is a little bit nicer to those they meet. It doesn't hurt that all Vieras have hair that's some shade of white (and do you maybe already know what I'm going to tell you about Ritz's hair...?). Ritz smiles and wishes everyone Happy White Day back; stops and listens when someone is seeking advice or wants to tell her something; says not to worry, because she'll take care of it. Then...

A shock of short, pure white hair swept gracefully back like a pristine snowdrift, through which two long ears poke. A face hued light...gray? brown? The eyes are never sure. Eyes you might mistake for polished aquamarine gems lit by firelight above a healthy blush of color on her cheeks. Shara. Oh, and Ritz's words, really, not mine. Ritz isn't the poetic type and she never says things like that, but I know that's how she sees Shara. I know a lot about Ritz—more, I sometimes think, than she knows about herself.

Ritz's breath almost hitches in her chest when she sees Shara, and when Shara nods and says good morning, sleepyhead, it's so deliberately out of character yet straight-faced that Ritz can't keep a smile from spreading across her own face—and believe me, Ritz is a master at not smiling. Shara offers a hand, and Ritz takes it—and oh, how she'd storm at anyone who described it like this!—shyly. From this point of the day (White Day, of course), Ritz and Shara are a team, tackling the challenges of managing a large clan together. Still I tag along; Shara doesn't mind my presence either. Then, why would she? After all, I knew her first.

The white clouds' bellies are the pure gold of a recently risen sun, and today looks like it's going to turn out to be a good day. Not all the days are good, although there are far fewer bad days than before. Sometimes a clanner gets seriously injured, and somehow it doesn't seem as though the white magic that heals them can ease the burden of guilt Ritz feels. Shara, ever the cool head, will usually try to mitigate the stress—actually, her presence alone tends to be enough to soften even the worst of Ritz's moods (and I don't need to detail those).

Back then, when it was rare to see a day that even approached good, Shara was the only thing that kept Ritz going. Before she met Shara, for a while it was all fun and games—swords, battles, monsters; a whole new world to explore! Ritz had fun, treating it like you would any fantasy, but things changed fast. Unrest grew in the land of Ivalice, the clan wars worsened, and what was at one time a wonderful escape became its own prison. Clan Ritz's chances of survival were low, and though for a time Ritz poured all her effort to ward off that fate, she eventually lost the will to keep going. I remember the day when she simply didn't et out of bed for a long time, and when she did, I saw tearstains where her had had lain.

She met Shara at a time when I had truly begun to fear for her. She was lost, and all the ghosts from her old world followed her to Ivalice to torment her further. Shara chased those ghosts away, became the foundation for Ritz to lift herself (not be lifted, of course) back up. Minus an at-times debilitating fear of bugs, Shara was strength embodied—solid strength, you could say, and not the fiery (and—forgive me—often temper-based) strength Ritz herself possessed. She could be trusted to remain calm when Ritz was angry, and to bring out Ritz's brave core when a fear from the old world threatened to dominate her. The day they met was the first day of Ritz's future.

But, you may be wondering, how is it I knew Shara before Ritz?

Don't forget, Ritz and Shara met long before that day.

Ritz and Shara met once, long ago, when they were both children.

Now Ritz and Shara have escaped from the neverending pursuit of their clan members, and are alone (but for me). The few clanners who saw them duck into the storage room know better than to interrupt. They're talking, about the present and possibly the future, and yet the conversation shifts slowly to the subject of the past.

Ritz and Shara were children together in the other world's city of Ivalice, two girls with white hair one's locks parted around two rabbit-like ears, and I can't remember whether they were something she wore or if they really belonged to her head.

It seems Ritz has been giving thought to the past, just like me, and she tells Shara how back then, when they slept on the ground and it was cold, the warmth of Shara's body nestled close had been the only way she could fall asleep (label reads: Caution. Ritz is volatile. Avoid either extreme of temperature).

And when they were children, because she liked Ritz so much, Shara gave Ritz her hairpin.

Ritz now absentmindedly runs her fingers over me, nestled in her pink hair which is really white, as she tells Shara quietly that she missed her when she woke up. Shara laughs and says she'll try to sleep in later.

Today is the anniversary of the day Shara gave me to Ritz. White Day.

Shara's closer to Ritz now, these liquid blue eyes brushing over me when Ritz tells her how she was afraid she'd lost me yesterday (Ritz is not happy admitting she's afraid of anything).

The origin of White Day lies in the vividness of Ritz's memory—the locks of hair atop her and the other girl's heads, the brilliant illumination of the cirrus overhead, the bleached sand in the distance, the colorless glow at the horizon line. And in this world, which brings into being all one's wishes and emotions, all that memory became White Day (not even Ritz knows this).

A solid kiss on the mouth from Shara, for no other reason than she really likes Ritz.

Of course, since Ritz's room was built, I've been on the bedside table when they got up to much more than that. I much prefer the bedside table to being in a sack of Ritz's things (thought she would always wrap me in cloth and move the bad extra gently when I was inside).

Ritz, not to be outdone, kisses Shara right back. In a flash their arms are twisted around one another. Shara's hand skims over me as she runs it through Ritz's white (or maybe I'm just imagining things) hair. And...

…Well, White Day is a celebration, after all.

A/N: SharaxRitz is such an amazing pairing. I hope you enjoyed the story! This was a neat chance to do something different with narration (hairpins, yay). And I've always thought that since Ivalice transforms your wishes (subconscious wishes, mind you) into reality, why shouldn't it also draw on memories and create things based on them?

…As someone once said, Ivalice is a land where dreams come true, and Ritz just happened to end up with the race of hot bunny girls.

As soon as I can manage, I'm going to write a full-length fic for these two. I've already got a rather…intriguing direction to take it in, so if you happened to like this I hope you'll read it too, when I get around to writing it…