It was something inexplicable. Kazuma was impossible to describe. First there was his arrogant little smirk that sent Ayano's temper flaring. The way he always wore that denim jacket like he was carrying what was left of his soul around in one of its pockets or the tufts of his brown hair always stood on end – the cause of which was either him running his fingers through the mess in irritation or because he had just managed to roll out of bed moments before. But then there was the way he held her, light but firm as if telling her that he trusted her to be strong but would never let her fall. To put it simply, Kazuma was a mess of contradictions.

He was such an idiot at times, embarrassing her with a crude comment or misplaced breeze. And when he wasn't, well she did a fine job of embarrassing herself. Like today, when she had finally donned the unmentionables her friends he coerced her into buying – no thanks to the impossibly busty Catherine McDonalds either – and it was raining. If that wasn't a sign, what was?

Oh but she hated the rain. She hated the way it plastered her hair to her face in long, cold ropes of red, the way the fabric of her uniform molded itself to her skin. To reiterate, she hated the rain. And while she was at it, she rather thought she hated Kazuma though she couldn't determine what exactly he'd done at this exact moment to merit the grim scowl just his name seemed to cause. If he were there, he probably wouldn't even have offered her a jacket. So there. That was why she hated him. The stupid, selfish jerk that would let a young lady freeze in the rain. Unacceptable.

In a headlong march down the soaked pavement, Ayano's long strides carried her right passed where Kazuma was waiting, lounging in the alley like some pervert with his hands tucked into his pockets.

"Ayano." He murmured in that way of his that her insides do a little flip-flop. His voice slightly gruff and amused and….was that tone of his condescending? Seriously!?

Ayano swung about, her long hair whipping about her threateningly.

"Where exactly have you been? We were supposed to meet like half an hour ago!" She reminded him, drilling her finger into his remarkably dry chest. Idly, he grasped her wrist and calmly lowered her arm.

"You can't really be angry with me because it rains." He said. Ayano opened her mouth, hoping a cutting retort would somehow tumble out without her having to think it up. An awkward moment of silence later and somehow simultaneously their gazes fell to where his long fingers were still gripping her delicate wrist.

"Let go!" She scurried back, her wet skin slipping from his so quickly she stumbled and ended up on the ground. He shrugged, tucking his hands back into his pockets.

"Hurry up, will you?" He called back over his shoulder. It was that simple. She hated him. Deep brown eyes or no, the man had no manners. She was so over him. Seriously. Eventually her body would catch up with her mind on that one.

Mumbling to herself about his shortcomings – arrogance, the whole in love with another girl thing, so on and so forth – Ayano managed to follow him all the way to the forest where some old ruins were reportedly housing youmas.

"Hey crazy person." Kazuma called up from before her. "Once you're finished talking to yourself back there, would you mind getting on with things? I'm getting a little chilled up here." A blush rushing to her cheeks, Ayano grasped Enraiha tightly and brushed by Kazuma.

"You just stand back while I do all the work. Again." She muttered.

It was just an old log cabin, the majority of one of its walls having fallen in long ago, overgrown with grass and tree roots. The rain splattering about her, a hollow echo in the forest while the only warmth came from the glaze of her sword, Ayano closed her eyes and listened.

"Do you sense anything?" She called back, her eyes still closed.

"No." His deep voice reverberated right next to her ear, sending a shiver down her back. "Something is wrong."

"The air…" She started.

"It's too still." He agreed. Side by side, the climbed over the rubble of the fallen wall only to stop short at the top of a steep hill.

"I don't sense anything." Ayano flicked Enraiha away with a wave of her arm. There was a slight shifting beneath her…

"Kazumaaaa!" She screeched, her hands flailing out as the ground gave way beneath her. Her fingers grasped the fabric of his coat before she went down and then his cries matched hers. Her back felt cold and slimy, bruising as she slid over sharp rocks and rough twigs. With a painful thwack, her head struck the ground, causing her to grit her teeth in pain.

"Are you ok?" Kazuma murmured. The strange pressure across her chest, which she just now realized was actually Kazuma landing on top of her, shifted as he lifted himself up on his elbows. With a rather unladylike grunt, she weakly shoved at his chest but he barely moved an inch.

"Get off me, pervert." She insisted.

"Give me a minute to catch my breath alright." She could've sworn something cracked when he rolled off so they were side by side on the ground. Slowly, Ayano made her way to her knees then her feet as she leaned against the rough bark of a nearby tree.

"How did that even happen?" She asked. A moment of silence passed and she turned back to regard Kazuma to see what had distracted him. Except he was staring at her, his body completely still so not even a finger of his clenched fist twitched. "Kazuma?"

"Ayano." He finally replied, his voice hoarse. His eyes never leaving her, he pushed to his feet and slowly approached her. Unbidden, her gaze dropped to his lips, the subtle scrape of his shaven chin. Her head tilted back, her eyelids falling shut, and a pout coming to her full lips.

Something cold and smelling of Kazuma draped around her shoulders. She recognized his jacket.

"Not that I'm not flattered, but I can't take you back to your father like that." Kazuma teased, turning around to pace away. Glancing down at herself, Ayano realized the fabric of her blue uniform had been neatly torn away by the sticks and stones in the mudslide. Beneath she wore sheer white lace, the intricate design doing nothing to actually shield her flesh from view. Gasping, she yanked the ends of Kazuma's jacket closed in front of her.

Rain dripping from his unkept hair, Kazuma held out a hand for Ayano. Keeping her red face down, she stepped closer and tried not to think about the fact that the only thing separating them right now was his stupid jacket. Wrapping her slim arms around his waist, the black shirt covering it now completely soaked through to the skin, Ayano tucked her face into the hollow of his shoulder. As he whipped up the wind to lift them away, she thought she felt the heat of a few of his fingers find their way under the jacket at her back. One look at his face though, all calm demeanor and focus, and she was sure she'd imagined it. As if one look at her scandalous new underwear would sway a jaded, worldly man like him. Who knew what kind of stuff women like Detective Tachibana had exposed him to.

There was just something about the way he held her though. So close and warm.