The world is only black and white. The stark blanche of the snow as it begins to fill up the streets, the pale shanty buildings, the white moon. The night is black with cold stars staring down and the shadows are longer. Gripping her mauve umbrella, the girl pads softly through the streets.

The world is only black and white. The stark blanche of the snow as it chokes trees, the pale glint of the sword, the sickly moon. The night is but the shadow of day, the stars but lost romances. Grabbing his locked memories, the boy pads softly through the streets.

They meet. They stop. They stare. An innocent rabbit wonders if the other is cold. A battleworn dog wonders if the other is warm. Hearts beat and shivers run down backs. One from wonder, the other from fear. One from anticipation, the other from fear. One from desire to be loved, one from fear to be loved.

A spur of movement. A rush. An embrace. Warmth. Warmth. Warmth.

Life and not death. Warm and not cold. Kagura and not Mitsuba.

They embrace so not a chill of winter can separate them. They embrace so not a chill of death can separate them. They embrace so nothing can separate them.