Because I don't give this AU enough love.

Here's their first meeting, enjoy!

FIRST

"Is he alright?" She peeked, then wished she hadn't, because the guy propped against the wall promptly crashed to the floor. "Oooh."

The few people within earshot quietly took swigs of their respective drinks, alcoholic or otherwise, before offering their silent support of whatever she was planning to do about it. Izumi grimaced. Of course. The bystander effect.

Pity that she had too much of a conscience to leave him there. Even more pity that the young man in question had at least twenty centimeters on her. Izumi probably wouldn't be able to lift him from the floor, even if she really wanted to. That would require the kind of upper body strength she didn't have, despite years of disciplined training.

Plus, she really didn't want to be known for carrying boys around. A tomboy reputation was hard to shake off, even though it was ridiculously easy to earn. Years of high school had taught her that much, at least.

Izumi took hold of her fellow student's shoulders and pushed him up so that his back was flat against the wall. Then she absently checked his pulse, pressing her index and middle finger into the thickly muscled jawline. He looked like an athlete, which she was glad to see. His heartbeat was strong and steady, and so was his breathing. Besides the obvious fact that he had passed out, she couldn't find anything wrong with him.

So. She could either leave the guy here (not an option), carry him out (not an option), call the police (not an option), call the ambulance (hmmm), or call whoever was on the guy's speed dial to see if she couldn't get someone to take him home. Now, there's an idea.

Izumi got on her knees and fished through the worn jean pockets for the telltale metal edge of a cellphone. She found a bundle of wrappers, a single unused cigarette, three crumpled yen bills, and finally a folded note. There was nothing else. Shrugging off the obvious lack of what she was looking for, she unbent the little piece of paper and was greeted with a phone number.

Almost against her better judgment, she called it. It wasn't like she had anything better to do.

One, two, three rings. She started wondering what the hell she would say if someone actually picked up.

Four, five, six. She tried not to think about it. At any point, it was better to try something than to leave him there.

Seven, eight – "Hello?"

"Hi," she said, her throat suddenly very dry.

Silence. Then, "Who is this?"

What, no introduction? Izumi felt slightly affronted and slightly absurd at the same time. "There's a drunk guy passed out in the hallway and he had your phone number in his pocket. Do you happen to know…?"

She trailed off, suddenly realizing that calling a random number that she found in somebody's pocket was probably not one of her better ideas.

The person on the other end sighed sleepily and asked, "Does he have brown hair?"

Brown hair? Well, it was sort of brown…Izumi peered a little closer. "I think it is."

"When I say brown," the earpiece droned patiently, "I mean kind of starchy dark orange with yellow and red."

Izumi honestly couldn't think of a better way to describe it. "Yeah, that sounds about right." Through the static of the telephone, she could hear papers being shuffled around.

The voice returned with a toneless, drowsy question, "Where are you right now?"

"Well, you know Matsuda's room?"

"Who doesn't?" His tone was dry.

"Yeah, you're probably right." Izumi laughed, mostly because her brain finally caught up to her mouth and she finally realized that she was actually having this conversation. Bad idea or no, it was working. "The door's open, you don't have to knock. Where does he live? The…drunk guy, I mean."

"I honestly have no clue - "

She was momentarily horrified. "What?"

"Let me finish. I have no clue, but he can stay at my place until morning."

"Oh, good," Izumi breathed a sigh of relief.

"I guess."

He obviously wasn't happy about being dialed so late at night to help a drunk college student – few people would be, in all fairness – but he sounded sincere enough. She felt sort of guilty for raining on his Friday night. There were probably many things that he'd rather be doing. "Is it really okay? I could just call the ambulance…"

"No, I can handle this," he replied, with just a hint of exasperation.

Izumi felt the slightest twinge of doubt about whether or not this was the best course of action, but it wasn't enough to change her mind, and it probably wouldn't be enough to change his. "Thank you very much."

His voice eased into a slow drawl. "You're welcome to thank me, but I'm waiting to hear those words from Kanbura first."

Izumi shrugged, wondering if he meant it literally. "Suit yourself. His name's Kanbura?" she asked, looking at the young man sprawled on the floor.

"To the best of my knowledge, yes."

Izumi narrowed her eyes and asked, "Are you his friend?" She didn't mean to sound suspicious, but it was late, and she was tired, and she would much rather ask rude questions than be responsible for whatever misfortune befell a drunk freshman.

"No," came the instantaneous reply, before his tone softened just a bit. "More like semi-distant acquaintances."

"Oh," Izumi stammered, wondering how she was supposed to respond to that.

"I know him well enough to expect something like this to happen," he sighed. "That idiot."

"Oh," she replied, faintly amused. Boys. "Well, I'm gonna stay with him until you get here."

"Thanks. Is he in danger of dying?"

"I don't think so, but you never know with things like this."

"…Would you be offended if I cursed?"

"Not at all."

"Fuck my life," he said, as serene and calm as a human being could be.

She was still laughing fifteen minutes later, after he hung up on her without a proper goodbye. She didn't even have it in her to feel insulted. Thankfully, there was no one in the hallway anymore. Izumi didn't feel like explaining her sudden bout of hysteria.

It would probably sound weird to anyone else.

The drunk guy mumbled something and she instantly snapped to attention. "Hello?"

He shifted, sighed, and fell silent once more.

Izumi scowled. Well, wasn't that just anti-climactic. She amused herself by rocking back and forth on her silver-colored heels. It started to hurt her feet, so she stopped. A quick glance to the clock on the wall told her that only a few minutes had passed. Hopefully, it wouldn't take much longer…

A soft coughing sound startled her – was he already here? – so she straightened up and turned around, only to jump back when she found a stranger standing less than an arm's length away.

"Holy shit!" Izumi crashed into the cheap drywood wall. Her heart slammed against her ribcage while goosebumps broke out all over her flesh. She had honestly never felt so scared in her life. No one had ever gotten that close without alerting her of their presence. Not even her beloved sensei could sneak up on her like that if she was paying attention properly. She cursed herself for letting down her guard.

The man in the hall stared back.

Izumi instinctively looked him over, quickly cataloging his appearance. Plain t-shirt, khaki pants – lots of pockets, but they looked empty – that hung just past his ankles. Not particularly rich, then, but not poor either. It was late at night, maybe he had just thrown something on. Somehow, though, Izumi doubted it. He was too well put together. She couldn't tell if his hair was slicked back or tied, but it was neatly combed despite the late hour. He was maybe ten centimeters taller than her. Not too much for her to handle, even in close combat. Then she looked at his eyes and a chill ran down her entire body.

They were blue. Not the flat color that came from contacts, but a radial wheel of blue iris that reminded her of the dark ocean. Her first impression was that he had to be a foreigner, but his face was soft and angular in all the usual places. The only thing that stood out was his eye color. Izumi half-wished that he would look away, or blink, or do something else. He didn't so much as shift despite the glare of light from the room behind her. It was unnerving.

"Hi," she managed.

"Hey," he replied, narrowing his eyes slightly.

It was the same voice she had heard on the phone, minus the sleepiness. Izumi took a deep breath and wondered what the hell she was doing. This wasn't the back alley of her hometown. This was a Japanese university. There was little to no chance that he was a gun-toting, trigger-happy mob boss. Then again, even if he was, she already knew how to deal with it.

"Um," she said intelligently. "Are you here for the drunk guy?"

"Yes," he replied. Then he glanced away and it was like a noose had dropped from her throat.

"Oh."

He surveyed the unconscious student on the floor, frowning. When he knelt down, Izumi instinctively moved away, relieved that she didn't have to worry anymore. "Thank you for calling me," he said awkwardly, as if he wasn't used to the words.

"No problem. It's no problem at all."

He glanced at her with a slightly raised eyebrow.

Prompted by the skeptical look on his face, Izumi quickly amended her previous statement. "I mean, it is a problem, but it's not my problem." It took her a few moments to realize what she just said, and then a few more to fling her hands over her mouth. "Oh!"

"It's alright," he replied, a faint smirk on his face.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, feeling her face grow hot.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Don't be."

Despite the fact that he didn't seem to be offended, Izumi felt absolutely horrible. It was like she had suddenly de-aged to a five-year-old, ready to be scolded for some brutally honest thing that she really shouldn't have said. He shot her a steadily broadening smirk every few seconds. In no way did it make her feel better.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out again.

"Didn't I tell you not to be?" he countered.

"If I feel sorry," she replied, with some annoyance, "I say it. You don't have to be so rude about it."

She had the satisfaction of seeing bewilderment flash on his face before it was gone like it had never been. "I'm rude?"

Should she? She should. A little sarcasm never hurt anybody. "Bingo!"

"It was a rhetorical question," he retorted.

"It was a rhetorical answer," she replied.

"Bingo is rhetorical?"

"If I say it is, it is."

"That's not how it works," he informed her.

"Can you prove me wrong?"

"Yes."

She waited, genuinely interested in what he had to say.

He didn't make a move to speak until she had almost run out of patience. When he finally did, it was ostensibly to ask, "What?"

It took a great deal of self control not to snap at him. "You said that you could prove it."

"I can." Another pause. "But you never asked me to do actually do it."

"That's cheating," she cried disbelievingly, feeling a surge of unwanted admiration coat her tongue. Smart-ass. She didn't feel too bad about her own faux pas anymore. Now, was that a good thing or not?

"I didn't think you wanted to hear it," he told her, looking exceedingly entertained.

Izumi wondered briefly what she was doing. She had done her part as a good Samaritan, wasn't it time to go? Of course it was, but she couldn't resist firing back, "Of course I do!"

"Sorry. I'm too tired." He brushed her off like a particle of dust.

"You're not tired at all," Izumi protested with her hands on her hips.

"It's late. Of course I am."

"Nuh-uh!" She was sorely tempted to stick out her tongue.

"If I say it is, it is," he mocked.

She huffed. "That's my line."

"It's mine now."

"No it isn't."

"If I say it is, it is."

"And if I say it isn't, then it isn't." Izumi jabbed her thumb toward herself.

"And if - " he suddenly stopped. "What are we doing?"

"We're arguing," she replied, looking at him oddly.

"Kanbura's still here," he pointed out, as if just discovering the unconscious boy for the first time.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

They stared at Mr. Starchy-Orange-with-Yellow-and-Red.

"I think he's very, very drunk," Izumi said solemnly, fighting the urge to laugh. It would have been rude, and she had already been rude enough.

"You think?" the other student asked disbelievingly, brushing his dark hair back.

"He's got the breath," she replied, wrinkling her nose in memory.

He actually winced in sympathy at that. "How long has he been like this?"

"You mean, drunk?"

"No, no, he's been drunk since noon. I saw him. How long has he been unconscious?"

Izumi decided not to comment that drinking from noon to midnight was not a good idea. From the looks of it, she'd be preaching to the choir. "I don't know."

He looked at her, scrutinizing her appearance just like she had been doing to him only moments ago. She was suddenly very conscious of the frayed edges on her clothing and the trails of sweat in her hair. Hopefully, he wasn't in the mood to judge and criticize.

Apparently, he wasn't, because his next move was to bend down and heave the unconscious student over his shoulder.

Izumi blinked, wondering why she didn't feel surprised at all that he was stronger than he looked. "Do you need any help with him?" she asked, fingering her phone.

He shook his head firmly. "It's fine. You should probably go back to your dorm – or wherever else you want to go. None of my business."

Well, no, it wasn't, but he could have said it in a more polite way. Izumi wasn't even offended, just amused. She bit down the retort on the tip of her tongue and plastered a smile on her face. "It was nice meeting you. I'd ask for your name, but I'll probably forget it, and it's not like we're going to have some grand reunion."

"No, probably not," he replied. "And I'm horrible with names anyway."

How very convenient. Izumi watched him walk away, gripping the other student tightly with his right arm. "Bye," she called after him, casually dismissing him from her mind. The experience had only proved that she needed to be more cautious. He may not have been a gun-toting, trigger-happy mob boss, but he had been dangerous all the same.

He gave her a two-fingered salute with his free hand. "See you later, if ever."

"Yeah. If ever," she echoed, just as he turned around the corner and vanished.

She probably wouldn't see him again. More's the pity. As strange as the whole encounter had been, she did like blue eyes.

Really. In a school of over six thousand, what were the chances?

It was best to forget about it, so that's exactly what she did.