It started with a bet. A dumb, impulsive bet.

“If I land this shot,” Denki had said, spinning a basketball in his hands, “you have to go on a date with me.”

You had rolled your eyes, arms crossed. “And if you miss?”

He smirked. “Then… I still get to take you out, but I have to buy you dinner.”

You scoffed. “So either way, I lose?”

“Nah,” he grinned, winking. “Either way, I win.”

Now, here you were, walking side by side under the city lights, the faint hum of Denki’s electricity crackling in the cool evening air. The ‘date’ had been surprisingly fun—not that you’d ever admit it. He was all energy, bouncing from one thing to the next, making stupid jokes, flashing that ridiculous, lopsided grin every chance he got.