They'd been sitting outside, talking about nothing in particular and reveling in the uncommon serenity of Tokyo life when it had begun to rain. It was torrential from the start, the raindrops pounding onto their skin like weakly thrown pebbles. They could hardly see in front of them to get out of the storm.

And so, when Makoto had dragged Minako to her feet and asked which way to run for cover, the blonde declined to seek shelter. Instead, she stood there, getting soaked for what had felt like hours. Then all at once, she began spinning, twirling around to the beat of a tune only she could hear.

Makoto had watched, entranced by the erratically graceful dance as Minako continued to move like a drunken ballerina. It made no sense to her in silence, and she doubted it would make sense to her if there had been a melody to back her up. She simply hadn't made sense, and suddenly Makoto was taken by an overwhelming urge to kiss her.

The blonde was soon flush against the tree trunk, moaning quietly as Makoto's hands fumbled clumsily under her uniform. Minako kept smiled coyly, somehow amused throughout. Her hand slipped under Makoto's skirt, stroking and petting with curious skill.

The rain continued to beat down on them, hiding them from prying eyes. Thunder rumbled loudly to mask their cries as time went on, teeth biting breasts through the fabric and fingers lost deep within.

Minako had giggled through it all as if that had been her plan all along.