Hachiman collapsed onto his bed, utterly exhausted after another day at Soubu High. He had been feeling… strange. Ever since that dream—or rather, that life-like experience—he couldn't shake the vivid sensations, as if someone else's memories had seeped into his bones.
In the dream, he had been on a ship, commanding a crew, every movement instinctively perfect. His body had obeyed without hesitation, muscles taut, reflexes lightning-fast. Even the sword in his hands felt like an extension of himself. And Haki—three types of Haki, flowing through him naturally, as if he had always been meant to wield them.
When he awoke, the room felt smaller, the morning sun harsh, yet he felt… stronger. Not just physically—though he could already sense his muscles were denser, his body firmer, every breath more controlled—but mentally. His thoughts were sharper, faster, and somehow more purposeful.
He flexed his fingers, noting a subtle tingling. Reflexively, his hand clenched into a fist, and he felt the power coursing through his body. Not for battle—not yet—but the potential was undeniable.
By the time he reached school, Hachiman could feel subtle shifts. The way he walked, the way he carried himself, even the sound of his own voice, bore a new authority. And yet, his cynical inner monologue remained intact. He didn't want attention. He didn't want conflict. He wanted peace.
But peace didn't mean he couldn't notice… changes in other things.
Shizuka Hiratsuka-sensei, standing at the entrance to the teacher's office, looked like she always had—beautiful, composed, capable—but today, something snapped inside him. Or perhaps the Xebec memories had unsealed something. For the first time, he truly looked at her as a woman, not merely a teacher. The sunlight caught her hair just so, the tilt of her head when she frowned slightly, the quiet confidence radiating from her—it was intoxicating.
"Uh… sensei," he began, voice calmer than he expected. He noticed how smooth it sounded, almost commanding, carrying a subtle undertone of confidence. "About your… dating life… any progress? Or are these blind dates still as… disappointing as ever?"
Shizuka blinked, eyebrows raising. "H-Hachiman? That's… unusual. Why do you care?"
He smirked slightly, leaning just enough forward to let his presence linger near hers. "Well… if no one else wants you, I suppose… I could take you off the market."
Her eyes widened in disbelief, a flush rising to her cheeks. "Take me… off the market?"
"Yes," he said, voice low and steady, carrying a subtle teasing edge. "You're… beautiful. And… I'm attracted to you."
There it was. The bold, almost audacious edge to him that hadn't existed before—part Hachiman, part Xebec. He could feel it, the memory of commanding respect and desire, flowing seamlessly into his own personality.
Shizuka looked flustered, but Hachiman didn't relent. "Really. You've spent all these blind dates… and no one appreciates what's in front of them. But I… I do. So, if you're single, I'd be willing to—well—make you my wife. Or at least… start there."
He let a faint smirk linger, teasing in that way he had developed almost subconsciously, a side effect of absorbing Xebec's confidence and charisma. It was bold, daring, ridiculous—yet undeniably him.
Shizuka's lips parted, and Hachiman could feel the tension shift. She was trying to maintain composure, but the subtle fluster, the shift in her gaze, was unmistakable. And Hachiman? He simply let himself enjoy the moment, the strange mixture of his usual cynicism, the newfound assertiveness, and the calm, steady desire that lingered in the pit of his stomach—a desire sharpened by Xebec's memories.