Author's note: So, if you're reading this, you either already know this story, or are a first time reader. If you are one of those who read this the first time around it was posted, I must offer you a sincere apology. I'll be arrogant enough to think that this was a beloved fanfic, a story with a lot of potential, screwed up by my bad decisions. So you wonder, why remove the fic? And why repost it now? Well, the answer is that it hurt to be constantly reminded of what this story could have been. At the time, I was going through some stuff in life, and I just wasn't strong enough to deal with knowing I was letting down my readers too.

But that was before. If you've been reading my work, you should know I am a firm believer, that one can ALWAYS fight back and turn things around. And so, even if this fails, I believe this is something I need to do. I am reposting this fic exactly as it was, up to the ending of the Haruno arc, which is the point up to which this fic is genuine. As for the rest, I will be posting NEW chapters that pick up that story from that point on, and cover the rest of the tale and the other routes. This time around, I aim to tell this story the way it actually goes down.

And something that needs to be said: I know many of my old readers weren't happy when I deleted my old fics. I was even asked questions like "are you the same smilingsamurai"? I know that many of you won't forgive the way I screwed this fic up the first time, or give this rewrite a chance. But ya know what? I'm going to do it anyway, because I think I owe it to you, to myself, and to this story. And because I think there will be folks who want to know what really happens in this fic!

A bunch of you would have checked out my comic on Tapas, and are probably wondering if the Demon will make an appearance in this rewrite, as he did in the old version. The short answer is "no". The Demon is a beloved version of 8man that I came up with, and I think that is what he should ultimately remain. This isn't his story, and he honestly doesn't belong here. I plan on reuploading and finishing the Demon of Sobu High at some point too, but for now, this fic is my goal.

If you're a new reader, you probably have no idea what to expect. Well, nothing I can say here will prepare you for it, so the only thing to do is dive in and find out!

This is the story of how Hachiman became a crazy OP MC, while remaining the guy we all know and love. It's also my tribute to Oregairu, to a bunch of different anime and DC comics. It's also my critique (and loveletter) for the harem genre.

With that being said, let's get this show on the road!

Prologue

Expectation. Pattern. Familiarity. Things that we fall back on. There are people who claim that habit is the killer of growth, but this is debatable. Familiarity is important. And I'm not just saying that because I happen to be a creature of habit who likes to stick to what he knows. Let's take you for example. That's right, you, the reader. Familiarity is important for you too. A pattern that you're used to helps you get comfortable, eliminates the need for thought, freeing you to focus on other, more important things. Like enjoying the story. Thus, when you start reading one of my stories, you expect me to begin my narration with a speech about why youth is a lie.

It's familiar, after all, isn't it? And so very me. Helps you remember why you identify and relate to Hikigaya Hachiman in the first place. But here is where it gets interesting.

Dear reader, you might be familiar with the idea of a narrative trick. It's a little like a safety blanket. All that spiel about youth and lies and walking alone… let's be honest: that's not what you're here to read at all (especially if you clicked on this story). That introduction serves as a mere blanket, something to camouflage and disguise a character in the garb of someone familiar.

I wish I could have started off this story with a comforting ritual like that. But this tale veers so far away from what's normal for me, that I just wouldn't be able to justify it.

But I'm deviating from my point now. If I can't give you a comfortable start to this story, I might as well give you at least something of a jump-on point.

At the time of the events that serve as the subject matter of our little tale, I'm a college student. I'm in my second year, studying Literature at Chiba University. At twenty years of age, it's been a while since I've decided to move out and live on my own. As much as my younger self preached about how working is equivalent to losing, real life teaches you very quickly that not working is an even more certain path to losing. Thus, one of the things I wanted to gain was independence and self-reliance, both financially and in terms of handling my own life. Living by myself was a crucial step to this. Now, this is far from easy. For someone who had a track record of quitting jobs early, holding on to my employment at the local diner wasn't easy. But, after a while, I managed to get used to it. Taking orders. Doing dishes. In other words, social interaction and manual labour. The two things I hated most of all in the world. But in exchange for them, I got that beautiful thing that all humans desire: money.

My apartment was more than decent and sufficient for my needs. With one bedroom, kitchen, bathroom and hall, it had everything I required. Situated on the third floor, the placement of the windows and balconies let in plenty of cool air during the summer, which was fortunate, since I didn't have air conditioning. The place was clean and the rent was affordable, and all in all, I was quite satisfied with my living conditions. While I didn't get a lot of time to study in the evenings on weekdays because of my job, I took regular notes and paid attention in class, which, combined with diligent work during the weekends, made sure I was keeping up with my coursework. I wasn't top of my class, but my scores were in the top ten, which was good enough for me. In addition, I was doing a basic three-day a week exercise routine to maintain my fitness. Realistically speaking, I wasn't interested in getting jacked or taking part in competitive sports. From a younger age than most, I gave up trying to impress people with physical accomplishments. But after graduating from high school, I realised that the idea of being unfit didn't sit well with me. So I decided to start putting in enough work to meet my own standards, and no one else's. It fit in perfectly with my loner's creed of self-sufficiency, self-awareness and perfect confidence in myself without overestimating my potential or abilities.

Hmm? I'm forgetting something, you say? People from high school? You're going to have to be a bit more specific than that.

The Service Club.

Ah yes. I thought that might come up. Come to think of it, the whole reason you're even interested in hearing my story was because you got so invested in my youth "romantic comedy". But, as I've told you before, that rom-com was wrong, as expected.

That's not to say that things ended badly. During our final year of high school, all three of us grew up a lot.

For Yuigahama, that meant coming to terms with her one-sided attraction to me. Don't get me wrong. She proved my initial assumptions about her abundantly wrong. Not only was she not the vapid nice girl I had taken her for, she was a splendid woman who won my respect. Out of the three of us, she was the only one willing to get truly dirty to achieve the things she wanted, and she made no apologies or excuses for that. That alone scored a lot of points in my book. After the infamous triple date, she made her move, and asked me out directly, no tricks, roundabout words or methods involved. That honesty blew me away, and I had no choice but to answer in kind. To her credit, she took it much better than I had taken my rejection from Orimoto. We continued to interact normally after that, though there was a marked distance between us. But that was only natural.

For Yukinoshita, the challenge was learning how to make her own decisions, and sticking to them without becoming overly dependant on others. Like with anyone else, that meant going through the harsh difficulties that accompany chasing one's dreams. Her aspirations had once laid in the political arena. But she had enough self-awareness to realise that the role of leader might not be suited for her. Her intelligence and skill were better suited to devising policy and solving problems, leaving the role of inspiring and winning hearts to someone better at social interaction and making difficult choices. After all, her true goal was to better society. If she could do that better outside of politics, then allowing her ego to blind her would have been a mistake. With this in mind, she continued with her international liberal arts course, and at the end of the year, went abroad to pursue studies in economics. She did let us know that after returning, her family had agreed to groom her in preparation for taking up an important role in Yukinoshita Corp.

And that left… me. Hearing Yukinoshita's decision had been difficult. For reasons the reader knows quite well, I didn't want her going that far away. But I had no right to ask her to stay. In true Hikigaya Hachiman fashion, I was unable to confess my feelings to her in the course of that one year. In the end, she was able to achieve her goal of proving herself to her family without my help. I should have been happy. But all I felt was a bitter emptiness. Maybe, somewhere along the line, I had realised that the only importance I would ever have for her would be as a crutch, as a tool, and I was fine with that, as long as I got to stay close to her.

Disgusting.

It was hard to tell what was strongest: my feelings for her, my pain at her going away, or my self-loathing at having strayed so far from my path that I had gotten attached to her.

Graduation came and went. Afterwards, I did not speak with the two of them. The saga of the Service Club was over and done with. It was not a fairy tale ending, but Hiratsuka Sensei's experiment had been successful. All three of us had learnt to adapt to the demands of society without losing who we were as people.

For me, that meant being cynical, over-analytical and ultimately rotten… but being better at hiding all that. I could sense Hiratsuka Sensei's disappointment at that. But she couldn't say a word. After all, no matter what I was inside, I did not resort to my old methods even once during that final year at school. On Graduation Day, I expected her to berate me, but instead, I got one of the few pleasant surprises of the year. It happened after the ceremony was over, so I was no longer her student officially. That gave her, for the first time, the freedom to speak to me outside of a teacher-student dynamic. I remember her words quite well. And though I was unable to show my appreciation for them, I'll carry them with me to the end.

"It's all right that you weren't able to change. I know it goes against everything I've told you so far, but you're fine as you are, Hikigaya. It's okay to want to be happy."

And thus ended high school. Now, you're probably thinking, "wow, that's a lot of loose ends". Well, that's sort of where this whole crazy story picks up. Little did I know back then, those loose ends were about to make one hell of a comeback in my life.

You see, in life, you get certain chances. Once they're gone, nine times out of ten, that's the end of it. Scratch that. It's probably closer to nine hundred and ninety nine times of a thousand.

But that still leaves that thousandth time. That 0.001 probability that you'll get a chance to do things over. Make things right. That you won't have to spend the rest of your life dealing with regrets and making your peace with the thought that you didn't do what you should have.

Of course, a second chance isn't exactly what you're thinking about when you get run over by a car. Well, maybe you might think of it, but my thoughts were more along the lines of-

"Fuck. Not again."

That, right before I lost consciousness.

"...going under seventy, I was."

"Fuck outta here with those excuses. You could've killed him. You realize how screwed we'd be if that happened?"

"Look, I said I'm sorry."

"Save it. Well, at least he's alive."

"Tell me about it. You Rewrite him back into shape?"

"Yeah. Just finished Rewriting the last of the damage. He should be waking up any second now."

To be clear, I was lying down on some sort of soft surface, which I knew must be a bed, and had my eyes closed. That last line seemed to be the cue for me to open my eyes and reveal that I was conscious. A little cautiously, I did so, slowly allowing myself to get adjusted to the bright light.

Moving my head, I looked at the owners of the two voices I had been hearing. Neither of them appeared to be Japanese. One of them was a tall blonde guy who I immediately disliked because he reminded me of someone else. The other shorter man was dark-haired and seemed to be Asian, but it was hard to tell where he exactly he was from.

"Hey, you're awake", said the blonde. "How're you feeling? Any pain?"

I shook my head.

"I'm all right", I replied. "How am I all right anyway? Wasn't I smacked by a car?"

The guy rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, smiling awkwardly.

"Well, that's actually my bad. Sorry, dude. I really should have been paying more attention to the road."

He looked so apologetic about it, it was hard to hold a grudge against him.

Besides, I didn't seem to be hurting anywhere. A little tentatively, I swung my legs off the bed and sat up straight.

The dark-haired one chose that moment to speak.

"You're probably wondering how you're not injured at all. Believe it or not, we are going to explain that. Now, normally, this part of the story is unnecessarily long because people are dumb enough to try to explain things to the protagonist and hope he'll understand them. That's straight-up stupid. So, I'm going to show you instead."

He took out a smartphone from one of his pockets.

Tapping the screen a couple of times, he shot me a question.

"In a role-playing game, what character do you like playing?"

That was a weird question to be asking out of nowhere, but the whole situation was so far past the line that separated normal and weird, I decided to just answer him.

"Warriors are kinda cool."

He nodded, as if understanding.

"High strength and vitality stats, heavy weaponry, plus that physique is a hit with the girls, am I right?"

I nodded.

He tapped his screen a few more times, and I felt a strange sensation in my body. It was completely unlike anything I had experienced before, in that I knew that this sensation wasn't something my nerves were carrying to my brain. It felt more like the individual molecules of my body were somehow being manipulated. Within a few seconds, the feeling stopped, and I looked down at myself, to see that I was now…

Completely jacked?

What the hell?

I clenched and unclenched my fingers, watching with stunned fascination as the muscles of my now thick arms responded to the movement by flexing and rippling. I had actual pectorals now, and lower down, each of my abdominals was clearly defined.

I looked up at the two guys, both of whom burst into laughter, high-fiving each other.

"Man, that one never gets old."

"Hahahah you see the look on his face? The look of knowing he never has to hit the gym again?"

"Hahahaha ah, boy. Unfortunately, dude. This particular Rewrite is not the one we came here to do."

He tapped the screen again, and once more, I felt the particles of my body being altered, and within seconds, I was back to my regular self again. I couldn't help but feel a slight tinge of disappointment.

"Can't I stay that way?" I asked, half-joking.

"Nah, dude. We would've let you, but the higher-ups would have our heads for it. Besides, take it from someone who knows: your real strengths lie elsewhere."

I nodded. I already knew that.

"But we needed a way to show you what we could do, so we did. Now, I know you're a smart guy, so why don't you tell us what we just did?"

What had just happened would normally be considered impossible. But I was a person who believed very firmly in his ability to distinguish illusion from reality, and I knew that what I had just experienced had very much actually happened. Knowing this, it wouldn't do to dwell on pre-conceived notions of "possible" and "impossible".

Thus, I considered everything I knew about the situation logically, combining it with what I knew from being a massive closet Otaku before answering.

"You used that phone to change my data. That data determines everything about me, so, by changing it, you're able to change any and all attributes of mine, including but not limited to physical appearance."

The two of them grinned at me, clearly impressed and pleased that I had caught on quickly.

"Bingo. And thus, you saved us a lengthy and boring exposition. So, we'll get right to it then. How do you think we are able to Rewrite, or modify, your data?"

I shrugged.

"You're some sort of beings from a higher dimension who're in-charge of maintaining order here… or something like that."

"Er… close enough. Look, the ones who take care of these operations aren't gods or deities. But you are right in that they're beings from a higher dimension. They're able to Rewrite data of any of the universes on this dimensional level, creating and altering alternate versions of them. There're even alternate versions of you. Heck, there's one where you do actually get all buffed up, and become a badass martial artist as well."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow. I found that hard to believe. Harder than all this stuff about beings "Writing" my universe.

"Yep", the dark-haired one said. "Now, the reason we're here, is because the Writer overseeing this universe has taken a great interest in you, and has sent us here to make certain changes to your data. Once these changes are done, your life is about to become radically different. Hopefully in a good way."

"Wait, hopefully?"

"So, the changes. Once again, we're going to explain by demonstration rather than exposition."

"Hey, you kinda ignored my question there."

Without paying any attention to me, he tapped away at his screen. Once more, I felt something in me change, but this time, it wasn't a change in my physical structure. It felt more like some aspect of me was being altered.

"Aaaaand done", he said, putting his phone away. Looking at me, he asked a question.

"You like visual novels?"

Normally, this question, coming from a fellow adult who was a complete stranger to me, would have been intensely embarrassing, but given the current situation, and the fact that these two were directly modifying who and what I was, such feelings didn't really apply.

"I guess. I mean, I've read my share of them."

"Excellent. That means you're familiar with their basic structure and tropes."

I nodded.

"Well, long story short, you've just been granted the Trait of a harem protagonist."

.

.

A moment passed by in silence. I could picture a gust of wind blowing a leaf through the scene.

"What did you just say?"

"Focus, dude. Harem protagonist. You're now one."

"Wait wait wait. That's the part. It just doesn't make any sense. Could you explain it?"

The two of them exchanged a look.

"Yep, he's definitely an MC."

"I mean, he was smart until a second ago. Now he seems to have picked up trademark MC-level density."

"Hey, I'm right here, you know?"

They looked at me.

"Then stop acting like you don't understand. Look, you're smarter than the typical protag, all right? It's what makes your story fresh and interesting. Please don't become another walking cliche?"

I clenched my teeth.

"All right fine! No more jokes, then. Why the hell have I been made into a harem MC? And what's this Trait you keep talking about anyway?"

"There we go. Now those are some smart questions. To answer the first: it's because you're interesting, and because you met the conditions for becoming one."

"Conditions? What are those?"

He sighed, muttering to himself about how he wanted to avoid exposition. Pulling a face that bespoke resignation to an unpleasant task, he began to explain.

"A True Harem MC does not fall under the genres of NTR, adultery, or regular group affairs. That shit is for average joes who lack commitment. And NTR is a trash fetish. But getting back to the point. A True Harem MC is an individual who possesses the ability to give real happiness to more than one lover. Now, you're probably thinking, it's impossible to look for happiness in another person, and you're correct, but try to understand what I'm saying here. For a fully self-actualized person, in other words, someone who's mature and well in the process of their own growth, one of the things they look for is a partner who will further that growth, bringing out the best in them. The pair will find genuine happiness in being with each other, and what exists between them is an actual bond rather than mere acceptance or compromise. For most people, only one such person exists at a time. Sometimes, it is possible to meet multiple such people over the course of one's life. These things vary. For the women who are connected to him, the True Harem MC is the ideal partner."

I nodded numbly, barely able to keep up, although everything he was saying was basic knowledge to any self-respecting Otaku, including myself. Somehow, hearing it all stated matter-of-factly was different from reading it on websites dedicated to trope analysis.

He continued.

"In your case, you definitely meet the requirements. You've met several women in your life, with each of whom has existed the possibility of something genuine between you and them. However, you've not chosen any of the 'routes'. Primarily because you're a self-deprecating little punk."

"Hey, you're kinda rubbing salt in my wounds right now."

"Now, here's the part where it gets super interesting", he said, once more ignoring my protests. "You see, being a partner who can provide a happy future is not the only characteristic of a Harem protag. That much depends, as you realise, on his physical and mental qualities. In those categories, you had what it took. But a Harem protag has one special ability, a unique quality that no other Trope possesses. We call this quality his Trait."

"What's the Trait?" I ask, curious now.

"The Harem protagonist's Trait is a special quality that allows the formation and maintenance of an unbreakable bond between him and any persons he has a possible Good End with. Essentially, it's an overpowered ability that ensures that it's impossible for him to be NTR'd, or otherwise robbed of a Good End by any means."

"Isn't that kind of a hax ability?"

"It's super OP, dude. It ensures complete loyalty. Of course, a Harem protag, by definition, is so dense, that he's automatically loyal. Combine the two qualities, and you have a character with a team that can have any range of abilities. The complete squad, if you will."

"Okay…"

"Now here's the thing: prior to today, you didn't possess the Trait. Or rather, to be more precise, it lay dormant in you. All we did, was come here and awaken it."

"YOU DID WHAT?"

"We awakened your Trait."

Oh boy. This was not good. Wait, hold on. Isn't this actually really good? I mean, losing my virginity is almost a certainty now. Hey, hold on. What's with this way of thinking? What about my pride and dignity as a loner? Am I really veering off the path of the loner now- AAUGGHH!

I spit out blood, coughing severely.

"Oh yeah, now that your Trait is active, any time you even think of choosing the Bad End, your healthbar drops a bit."

"Bad End?"

"Oh, that pathetic shit about how you're going to be alone and all that crap. Seriously, dude, ditch that gimmick quick."

"Hey, hold on. Are you telling me I don't even the choice of being alone anymore?"

He sighed.

"You are literally stepping on the dreams of everyone reading this fanfic right now."

"...what?"

"Never mind. Listen. You can still choose the Bad End. The choice is always up to you. But it's called the Bad End for the reason. Why are you so fixated on being alone anyway?"

"Because I…"

The words died in my mouth. No, that's incorrect. The words didn't exist in the first place. Once upon a time, I would have been able to speak at length about why I trusted only myself, about why walking alone was the best, and only, choice for me. But today, every one of my assumptions had been shattered. Heck, even before today, a lot of things had changed since high school. Really, three years is a long time to hold a grudge over one middle school rejection. The Service Club had been proof that not everyone I meet is going to be fake. If that was true, then was it really so wrong to "go for one of the Routes"?

Before I could answer my own question, the man spoke again.

"Well, we'll leave the choice to you. The Writer insisted that you be the one to choose. You'll find happiness no matter which of the Routes you choose, apart from the Bad End. Historically speaking, most Harem Protags have ultimately chosen a single Route, after managing to ensure a Good End for everyone else. Of course, there is one other possible ending. It's a thing of legend, something that only exists in myth… could it be that you're the one who will… no, I'm getting ahead of myself. In any case, good luck, Hikigaya. Don't forget to read the Tutorial if you don't understand anything."

With that, the two of the vanished into thin air, like wisps of smoke, leaving me shouting my lungs out at nothing.

The world started to darken, and I felt myself losing consciousness, again.

Damn amateur doesn't even know how to transition scenes properly.

I woke up breathing heavily.

That had been one weird dream. Couldn't really call it a nightmare though. Although, I wish it had lasted a little longer. Would have been good to see some actual action.

Ah well. Never mind.

I checked the watch on the bedside table. It was 6 AM. Time for my morning jog. Getting off the bed, I changed into the shorts and vest I worked out in, grabbed my key and locked the door behind me as I exited.

I lightly jogged down the stairs before finding a comfortable pace on the pavement outside. Running on concrete isn't really great for the knees, so it was fortunate there was a rather large park close by, which is where I actually did most of my cardio.

As I ran towards that park, I couldn't help but think of the dream I had had. Harem Protagonist? Trait?

Hah. What rubbish. If that were true, I wouldn't be able to get through even this morning workout without something cliched happenin-

WHAM.

I collided with a body, nearly getting knocked off my feet.

A high pitched exclamation clued me in as to the sex of the person I'd just ran into. Clutching my head, and still seeing stars, I unconsciously reached out a hand to help her up to her feet, apologizing as I did so.

"I'm extremely sorry. Should've looked where I was going. Are you all right?"

She took my hand and got to her feet, rubbing her head. I noticed her hair was blonde, and cut short, falling just short of her shoulders.

"Oww… no, it's OK. I should've been more careful too."

As my head stopped spinning, I took a better look at her. She seemed to have recovered as well, and lowered the hand rubbing her forehead, allowing me to get my first proper look at her face. As each detail became embedded in my brain, I felt my jaw drop a little.

Smooth cheeks, sharp but pleasant nose, full lips… and fiery emerald eyes.

"Miura?"

Her eyes narrowed, before widening in recognition.

"Hikio?"

Some words from the dream played in my head at that exact moment.

You've met several women in your life, with each of whom has existed the possibility of something genuine between you and them.

We awakened your Trait.

I looked into Miura's eyes, and noticed that her cheeks had developed a faint red colour on them.

OH. NO.