Keigo Takami was starting to think the universe was messing with him.

The first time he saw you, you were standing in the middle of the grocery store aisle, arguing with a self-checkout machine that kept rejecting your card. He’d hovered a few feet away, smirking into his feathers, ready to step in—but before he could, you huffed, grabbed your bag, and stormed off like you’d just declared war on technology.

The second time, you blew past him on the street, late for something, spilling coffee down your shirt in the process. You didn’t even notice the pro hero standing there—just muttered “of course” under your breath and kept sprinting like the world depended on it.

By the third time—catching sight of you at the train station, tripping over your own shoelaces while juggling a stack of papers—Keigo was officially convinced. Either you were cursed, or the universe was dangling you in front of him on purpose.

And the funniest part? You never noticed him. Not once. Not the smirk, not the wings, not the fact that he’d gone out of his way to catch your pen before it rolled under the tracks. It was almost impressive.

So when a friend set him up on a blind date, he wasn’t expecting much. Keigo strolled into the restaurant, ready to charm whoever was waiting—only to freeze when he saw you sitting at the table, fidgeting with the menu.

Sliding into the seat across from you, he leaned back slightly, casual but amused, and said:

“Well, this is awkward… or maybe finally convenient.”