It was back in high school, shortly after Kunio discovered Snow’s powers. They were sitting in class. Some classmates were talking, asking each other who they like, when one of them suggested that one of the boys likes Snow. “Eww,” he replied with disgust, “Why would anyone like her? She looks like a boy!”

Kunio heard this and ran over to the shorter boy. “What did you say?!” he shouted, as he aggressively grabbed the collar of the boy’s shirt.

“Well, it’s the truth!” the boy admitted cruelly. “She’s bland-looking and doesn’t have any boobs or butt! Makes you wonder if she has something else under that skir-” His sentence was cut short when Kunio’s fist rammed into his face with such force that the boy fell to the ground. The classroom filled with exclamations and cheers.

It’s now the very beginning of spring, and flowers have started popping up in the local park. However, there is still a chill in the air. Kunio and Snow are off from work today, and they are spending the early afternoon sitting on a bench and chatting. Kunio is wearing a brown fur-trimmed coat and green turtleneck, which complimented his tan complexion and sun-kissed dark brown hair that was long enough to cover his ears.. Snow sits a few inches from him, warming her fingerless-gloved hands with her cup of steaming coffee. She wore a beige knit scarf and black peacoat over khaki slacks and low black boots. Her white hair is partially covered with a brown beret.

“Kunio, back in high school,” Snow begins quietly, “Why did you beat up that kid who said I looked like a boy? He was just being honest.”

“It doesn’t matter if he was being honest or not,” Kunio answers, looking over at his crush while taking a sip of his own coffee. “Honesty can be much more painful than the truth. Didn’t what he said bother you?”

“I’d rather him be straightforward like that than lie behind my back, like other people do.” She replies, without looking at her companion. She starts spacing out, staring at her coffee cup, or at her hands, which she has always had a habit of doing.

“Hey, Snow,” The man breaks her out of her trance with a somewhat serious tone. He waits for her to look into his eyes. “What he said wasn’t the truth.”

She lets out a slight scoff. “What are you talking about?” She questions sceptically, “My hands didn’t glow, did they?”

“Well, yeah,” Kunio admits, “Maybe it’s true that that’s really what he thought, but…” When she releases a hand from her coffee cup to blow on her cold fingers, he takes her tiny, lithe hand and warms it between his own large, warm ones. “But it’s not the truth. The truth is… You’re a really beautiful woman.”

He opens up his hands to reveal her delicate fingertips, which don’t have the slightest hint of a glow.

She stares at their hands for a second and gulps nervously, struggling to find a reply. “Huh,” is her ineloquent response, “I must’ve run out of power for the day. Better go home and recharge.” She abruptly gets up and runs off. Kunio reaches out for her but realizes it’s too late. He runs his fingers through his hair. Little does he know that past the park gate, out of sight, the young lady’s face smiles pink with unfamiliar delight.