The late afternoon sun filtered through Hachiman's bedroom window. His body still ached—not from exercise, but from a strange, almost magnetic tension that pulsed in his muscles.
He drew in a slow breath and flexed his fingers experimentally. Subconsciously, his Observation Haki flared for the first time, alerting him to the minutiae of the room—the way a ceiling beam creaked under stress, the faint scent of shampoo in the air, even the pulse of his own heart.
He crouched, tested his reflexes with a simple strike at an imaginary opponent… and felt his Armament Haki naturally harden his forearm. The sensation was alien and thrilling, like a second layer of skin made of steel. A quick swing of a pencil across the desk felt heavier, sharper, almost as if he could cut through wood without effort.
Then he imagined a sword in his hand. Instinctively, his body moved fluidly, a dance of steps and strikes he had never practiced before—but it was perfect, precise, lethal even in imagination. Xebec's muscle memory and combat intuition had merged into him.
Hachiman sat back, breathing steadily, almost amused. "Well… that's new," he muttered. A cynical smirk tugged at his lips. Even without intention, the superior aura radiated from him.
Next Day: Service Club – First Reactions
Yui Yuigahama was the first to arrive, humming lightly as always. She froze mid-step when she saw Hachiman seated at the table, hands folded, posture unnaturally straight and confident.
"Uh… H-Hachiman?" she said, tilting her head. "Did… you… change or something?"
Yukino Yukinoshita, entering silently behind Yui, frowned slightly, her sharp eyes taking in Hachiman's presence. "I don't know… it's subtle. But there's… something different about you," she remarked, almost whispering. "Confidence. Presence. It's… unnerving."
Hachiman raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. "Unnerving, huh? I'll take that as a compliment." He noticed the slight quiver of curiosity in Yui and the analytical tension in Yukino. Both were subconsciously aware that something about him had shifted.
Yui exchanged a glance with Yukino. "It's… kind of intimidating, but also… cool?" she said hesitantly.
"Cool, huh…" Hachiman murmured, a faint smirk forming. He flexed his fingers subtly under the table, sensing the faint pulse of Haki within him again. "You two should get used to it. This is me now—more… aware."
Shizuka-Sensei Arrives
A knock at the door announced Shizuka Hiratsuka-sensei. Hachiman's gaze immediately fixed on her, and he noted—almost with amusement—how his perception of her had changed overnight. No longer just a teacher, but a fully realized, beautiful woman, radiating confidence and charm.
"Good afternoon, everyone," Shizuka greeted cheerfully. "I have a new request for the Volunteer Service Club…"
Hachiman's smirk widened. He leaned forward just slightly, voice smooth and teasing. "Sensei… did you think about my question yesterday? About taking you off the market if no one else wants you?"
Shizuka's eyes widened, a faint blush rising. "H-Hachiman! That was… I don't think—"
He cut in, calm and confident, tone carrying both teasing and sincerity: "I mean it. Honestly. You're… beautiful. And I don't think anyone could appreciate that properly. So… if the market is empty, consider me… your buyer."
Yui's jaw dropped slightly. "Uh… Hachiman… what are you saying?" she whispered, nudging Yukino.
Yukino, though her face remained composed, couldn't hide her surprise. "Hachiman… are you… serious?" she asked, her voice calm but her eyes sharp. She felt the aura radiating from him—it was magnetic, and yet, undeniably real.
Shizuka, flustered but trying to maintain composure, crossed her arms. "Hachiman… you can't just—"
"I can," he replied smoothly, leaning back with a faint smirk. "But let's put that aside for now. Tell me about this new request of yours. I want to hear everything. Though… don't think I won't notice if you blush while explaining."
The small, subtle teasing broke Shizuka's composure even further. Yui tried to hide her blush behind her hands, and Yukino's analytical eyes narrowed—not in anger, but in fascination, watching the shift in Hachiman.
Even in a modern school setting, without swords drawn or Haki displayed, the memory fusion had changed him fundamentally. The smirk, the calm confidence, the teasing tone, the subtle dominance in presence—it was impossible to ignore.