Isagi had planned the date with the same precision he used on the field. A reservation confirmed twice. Flowers picked out that morning. Even a backup plan, just in case. He was determined to make everything perfect.

The universe disagreed.

The reservation? Somehow canceled. The apology from the staff was polite, but it didn’t change the fact that the restaurant was full. Isagi stood there in stunned silence, flowers still in his hands, brain scrambling for a new plan.

Then it started to drizzle.

While trying to reassure you—while absolutely overthinking everything—he took one wrong step. The bouquet slipped, fell straight into a puddle… and before he could grab it, a car sped by, splashing water everywhere and flattening the flowers beyond saving. Isagi stared at the wreckage in pure disbelief.

“…There’s no way,” he whispered.

The drizzle turned into full-on rain. Within seconds, you were both soaked, hair plastered to your faces, clothes heavy with water. Any attempt to salvage the date turned into frantic laughter as you ran down the street, dodging puddles and passing cars.

Somehow, you ended up under a tree—barely sheltered, rain dripping through the leaves anyway. Isagi leaned against the trunk, breathing hard, then laughed. Really laughed.

“I swear,” he said, wiping rain from his face, “this was not in the plan.”

He looked at you then.

Drenched. Laughing. Still somehow glowing to him, even in the middle of the disaster. Ethereal in the most unexpected way.

His expression softened.