[Hikigaya Residence – Afternoon]
Hachiman had cleaned his room. That alone was a miracle worth engraving into history. The books on his desk were stacked neatly, the floor was clear of old magazines, and he'd even taken the time to air out his futon.
He stood in front of his mirror, adjusting his collar. "…This is ridiculous. Why am I nervous? It's just sensei. She's an alcoholic chain-smoker who yells at me half the time."
Yet his hand tightened around the small box on his desk—the pendant he'd given her last time wasn't enough. This time, it wasn't a gift. It was a date.
"Big broooo!" Komachi's voice rang from the hallway. "Are you seriously putting this much effort in? Who is it?!"
"Shut up, Komachi," he shot back, but there was no bite in his tone. "Just… make yourself useful and don't embarrass me."
Komachi smirked knowingly. "Ehhh, that's suspicious~. Guess I'll find out soon anyway."
And right on cue, the doorbell rang.
Hachiman's heart skipped. "…Showtime."
[Entrance]
Shizuka stood there, shifting awkwardly in a casual outfit—a soft blouse tucked into jeans, hair down instead of her usual work style. She looked… far younger. Far more approachable.
"T-tch… don't stare, idiot. I-I didn't dress up for you or anything," she muttered, cheeks already tinged pink.
"You look good, Sensei," Hachiman replied simply, and that honest tone nearly knocked her off her feet.
Before she could recover, Komachi appeared behind him, wide-eyed. "EHHHH?! Is this your date, onii-chan?!"
Shizuka froze like a deer in headlights. "W-wait! Komachi-chan, don't misunderstand! I-it's not like that—"
But Komachi's teasing grin said otherwise. "Wow~! Sensei, huh? Didn't know you were into older women, onii-chan. Respect. Komachi approves!"
Hachiman pinched his nose. "…Go. Away."
"Fine, fine," Komachi giggled, darting upstairs. "But I expect details later, Sensei!"
Shizuka covered her face with her hands, groaning. "Why did I agree to this…?"
"Because deep down, you like me," Hachiman deadpanned, smirking as he gestured her inside.
[Living Room]
They started simple—tea, snacks, a bit of small talk. But Hachiman's gaze never left her, and every time Shizuka tried to relax, he threw in a line just bold enough to make her squirm.
"You know," he said, leaning casually on the table, "seeing you here, you almost look like a housewife."
Her face exploded red. "W-what nonsense are you—?!"
"Not that I'm complaining," he added smoothly, smirk tugging at his lips. "It suits you."
"Y-you… stop saying such embarrassing things!" she snapped, but she couldn't quite meet his eyes, fidgeting with her cup.
[Hachiman's Room]
Eventually, he invited her upstairs.
"Are you sure this is appropriate?" Shizuka muttered, hesitating at his door.
He tilted his head. "You agreed to a home date. This is my home. This is my room. Unless you'd prefer the living room where Komachi can eavesdrop."
"…Fine," she huffed, stepping in.
Her eyes widened at the sight. "You… cleaned."
"Don't sound so shocked."
"No, really. This is almost… impressive. It's like you actually tried to impress me."
"…Maybe I did," he admitted quietly, meeting her gaze with unflinching honesty.
She froze, heart hammering. He had this infuriating way of saying things so directly yet so casually that it left her defenseless.
"Sit," he said, patting the edge of his bed.
"H-Hachiman—"
"Relax," he chuckled, "I'm not going to bite. Unless you want me to."
Her face went crimson. "Y-you…!"
She sat anyway, and he sat beside her, close enough their shoulders brushed. The air thickened, her pulse racing as he leaned in slightly.
"You should rest that leg," he said softly, eyes flicking to where her injury had been bandaged. "Still sore?"
"…A little."
Without asking, he reached down and gently adjusted her foot onto his lap. His hands were warm, steady as they pressed lightly against her calf.
Shizuka gasped, gripping the sheets. "H-Hachiman! What are you—"
"Making sure you don't push yourself again," he said simply, voice calm, low. "You scared me the other day, you know. Watching you get hurt like that… it sucked."
Her breath caught. She stared at him, the weight of his words sinking deep. "…You really are serious, aren't you?"
He looked up at her then, meeting her eyes with that sharp, unwavering gaze. "…Dead serious."
Before she could stop him, he leaned closer and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
Her entire body went rigid, heart exploding in her chest.
"…Cute," he murmured against her skin, pulling back with a small smirk. "You're ridiculously cute when you're flustered, Sensei."
Shizuka slapped his arm weakly, face scarlet. "Y-you're unbelievable…"
"And yet," he teased, "you're still here."