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There wasn't a point of time that signals the initiation of an attraction, but this was the most glaring one.
The two heirs of historically long and powerful families were engaged in a conversation. Their usual type of conversation, because Rikuo's urge to mess with someone is at its full force whenever it comes to Yura, and unlike with anyone else Yura wasn't shy to dole out literary devices framed in the meanest way possible when her ire is aimed at Rikuo. Many in their respective families had thought their consistent antagonising was due to the natural opposition between a yokai and onmyoji, but it seems that it really was just how the two like to interact.
"I never asked fer free food considering' yer the one who keeps forcing the hospitality, why are ya askin' me a favour fer that on top everythin' else!"
"Your capitalism really shows every time you don't compensate someone's work."
"Do ya realise that the category uncountable can be attached to the amount of times ya've helped me?"
"That'd be a lifetime of extortion if I were to go about that route. I'm just asking you to refrain from insinuating how Yuki-onna looks as anything remotely negative for one night. It may be my coming-of-age, but this is literally the first time Yuki-onna actively decides to try to look beautiful and she's going to be nervous beyond comprehension about it."
Yura became bug-eyed. "That's all it takes? Ya made yer favour sound like I was going to willingly sink!"
"I need to ask Kejoro some time to bring a mirror and show you how you look like when you're in that weird mix of fear and annoyance of untold degrees."
"You-you-you," Yura was seconds away from smacking his shit-eating grin. "You absolute asinine fool!"
In hindsight it was only a very simple thing that introduced a new element in their dynamic.
"Young Master! My apologies for making you wait!"
Turning around nearly proved fatal for their necks and hearts because Yuki-onna was slaying the etymology of beautiful adjectives.
Gone was the ever straight flowing hair behind her form as she had apparently maximised Kejoro's braiding ability to make her hair seem like a black and white paint mixing through a loose braid that rests on one shoulder, ending at the twine of actual wisteria flowers. She forgoed her ever present white scarf to show her haneri. Her white eri was littered with tiny blue snowflake patterns. While her hotajuban was as white as ever, her nakajuban was black for the first time with red flowering quinces. Periwinkle koshihimo circled her waist, clearly matching with her long tabi. Moreover, her sode was somewhat unattached to the shoulders, letting them see the actual skin of Yuki-onna's upper arms for the first time. If her mae migoro was slitted Rikuo might actually risk fainting.
"Yuki-onna," Rikuo's voice felt strained, and he could feel his usual eloquence threatening to flee. "Gorgeous is an understatement."
Yuki-onna's cheeks quietly grew redder, approaching the colours of Japanese quince. "T-t-t-thank you, Young Master. I don't look weird in colours beyond winter?"
He was trying really hard not to let his eyes roam. "The wait worth it."
Yuki-onna closed her eyes in embarrassment and Rikuo noticed she even went the trouble of trimming her fringe which must have been what really made her eyes more distracting than usual.
He really need to explode about this sudden realisation of how gorgeous his lifetime companion to his mother later because this? This wasn't a crush. What he had harboured for Kana was nothing in comparison and he wasn't going to be stupid about it.
Speaking of stupidity, he should probably stop staring and say something. "Nice touch with the wisteria. That's such a subtle punishment for any handsy perverts and if it weren't poisonous to Mum, I would have asked Kejoro to do hers." A smirk slid into place, and Rikuo eased at the familiar confidence he has whenever he speaks of the onmyoji. "Yura Max is a gladiator bull in comparison... Yura?"
If Rikuo thought he was taken aback, he had no grain over Yura.
She...she's sort of catatonic.
Judging by the horribly adorable blush on her face, Rikuo needn't have pulled a favour from her teeth.
Though inappropriate, Yura would thank him for not leaving her in such a state. He touched her open shoulders and it snapped her out as she automatically tried to metaphorically bite him. "I believe in a swift justice system so get yer fingers off."
"You call calling out three-sentence mantra 'swift'?"
"That swelled head will be lopped off someday, probably by the front door!" Yura flailed her arms ungracefully, but it did the job of forcing a space between them. She looked back at Yuki-onna and, Rikuo saw gleefully, blushed again. "Y-y-yer pretty!" Yura blurted out. "Uh, er, yer less likely to make people think yer weird and more under-dressed."
"Mou, stop it, stop it!" Yuki-onna lightly slapped her cheeks to stop the pain from grinning at the compliments. "I can't possibly steal the spotlight from Young Master. Come on!" She grabbed each of their hands and briskly pulled them to another room. "Kejoro's already setting up the preparations. It's Young Master's turn!"
Rikuo hummed. "When will you start calling me by my name?"
Yuki-onna's golden-ringed eyes looked back and she gave a smile. "I shall call you Master by midnight." Decisive, she looked forward again to pull them forward.
Behind her, Rikuo side-eyed Yura and quietly whispered, "I wish to say 'great acting' but I believe the compliment is remiss of reality."
"I have not the pleasure of understanding ya," Yura deadpanned, recovering from teenage embarrassment faster than anyone had a right to.
Rikuo and Yura usually interact like gas and a wildfire at best, but since Rikuo turned thirteen they had another way to bond - desperately cooling themselves from accidentally making things weird to Yuki-onna.