Hideyoshi's eyelids fluttered open, and he blinked, trying to shake off the remnants of a deep slumber that clung to his senses. Emerging from the depths of sleep, he felt momentarily disoriented, the fog of uncertainty clouding his mind. He instinctively reached up to rub his eyes, hoping to dispel the strange sensation. But as his hands rose, they froze in mid-motion, his heart skipping a beat. The hands before him were foreign, belonging to someone he didn't recognize.
"How is this possible?" he muttered, disbelief trembling in his voice. But as the words escaped his lips, Hideyoshi couldn't help but notice a peculiarity. The voice that reverberated in the air wasn't his own. It was as if he were thinking out loud, yet the sound that echoed back to him was that of a stranger. A question formed on the tip of his tongue. "Is this some kind of induced dream?" His heart raced faster as he considered the technology required for such an experience. "But that advanced technology doesn't exist in Pearlshaw, and it's unlikely someone transported the necessary equipment all the way from Everbrook..." His eyes studied the unfamiliar hands, a blend of inquisitiveness and fear reflected in his gaze. Surprisingly, the hands appeared real, lacking the imprecision of lucid dreams. The lines, contours, and texture conveyed an unsettling realism.
"What is happening to me? There must be an explanation. I need to stay calm and find answers." As Hideyoshi's unease grew, it also prompted him to regain control of himself. He took a deep breath, consciously steadying his racing thoughts. Closing his eyes, he shut out the external stimuli, focusing on his breath. "Inhale... exhale... one breath in, three breaths out." Gradually, the shallow and unsteady breathing deepened and slowed down. "Okay, Bunker, pull yourself together. Stay calm. You can do this." He spoke aloud, clapping his cheeks with both hands to snap himself back to reality. As Hideyoshi adjusted to the unfamiliar body, he took a few tentative steps, his movements lacking confidence. "Easy now," he muttered, his voice laced with caution, as he narrowly avoided stumbling to the ground.
His brows furrowed, and his eyes narrowed as a slight frown formed on Hideyoshi's face. With deliberate steps, he cautiously moved forward, a flurry of questions racing through his mind. Hideyoshi contemplated the implications of this strange experience, realizing that his mind and personality remained intact, even though he inhabited a completely different person's body. "I should discuss this with Aizawa-san. I would love to study this phenomenon," he pondered, already planning to seek his colleague's help in unraveling the mystery. "If I ever find my way back, that is..." The weight of his words hung in the air. Hideyoshi swallowed hard, feeling a lump forming in his throat. He knew he couldn't allow himself to be consumed by doubts. With a determined exhale, he pushed those thoughts to the recesses of his mind, determined to focus on the present moment.
Taking a closer look at his surroundings, Hideyoshi sat up in bed, his eyes still adjusting to daylight, a subtle sense of familiarity coming over him. It was as if the room had been meticulously prepared for him. The interior design reminded him of his dream house in Pearlshaw, with a blend of refined elegance and youthful flair. The spaciousness of the room and the tasteful arrangement of furniture reflected the affluence of the household. The large windows allowed natural light to flood the room, casting warm hues on the wooden surfaces and infusing the space with an inviting glow.
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Hideyoshi felt the coolness of the floor beneath his bare feet, grounding him further in the present moment. Rising to his full height, he took a moment to adjust to the weight and balance of his unfamiliar body. With each step, he moved closer to the walls adorned with meticulously chosen posters and decorations. His fingers grazed the smooth surface of a framed poster, its edges bearing only the faintest traces of time's passage. The absence of wear and tear left lingering questions, casting a shadow of uncertainty about whether the room had ever truly been inhabited.
As Hideyoshi's eyes roamed the room, he felt drawn to the large windows. With an energetic motion, he pulled open the curtains, allowing sunlight to flood in. "Ah! So bright!" he exclaimed, momentarily taken aback by the intensity of the light. Now fully awake and more at ease with his circumstances, he decided to venture further into the space, curious to explore every corner.
Stepping into the bathroom, Hideyoshi faced a full-length mirror, his reflection staring back at him. He studied the physical attributes of this unfamiliar body, employing his clinical knowledge to assess his new self. "A Caucasian male, between 5 foot 11 and 6 foot 1, about sixteen or seventeen years old, weighing no more than 140 pounds," he muttered, taking note of the details. His features displayed a blend of Northern European and Eastern European descent, with subtle effeminate touches on his face.
Maintaining a detached and analytical mindset naturally led Hideyoshi to imitate his Japanese colleague's way of thinking and speaking. "The subject should optimize nutrition through a balanced diet, engage in regular exercise to enhance musculoskeletal integrity, and implement corrective measures to address maladaptive posture," he said aloud, his voice taking on the measured and precise tone reminiscent of Doctor Aizawa. A smirk played on his lips, momentarily lightening the gravity of the situation.
As Hideyoshi's gaze wandered, his eyes landed on a diary lying nearby, its presence drawing him in with an irresistible force. He couldn't resist the magnetic pull and reached out, his fingers trembling as they grazed the worn cover.
Memories, not his own, surged to the surface, fragmentary and hazy, as Hideyoshi cautiously flipped open the diary to its first page. Only names were written there, but their impact was immediate and profound. Before he could fully realize the weight of those words, a shockwave of realization rippled through his body. Blood drained from his face, leaving him pale and disoriented, while a sickening churn of nausea gripped his stomach. The room seemed to spin around him in a dizzying whirl, and with weakened knees, he collapsed to the ground, overcome by the overwhelming weight of the unknown.
The names on the page seared into his mind, etching themselves forcefully into his memory. 'Tashi Boncoeur and Boniface Bunker'. They echoed relentlessly in his mind as a jolt of recognition shot through him like an electric current. "Boniface... Dad?!" Hideyoshi's voice trembled with disbelief.
His questioning thoughts slipped away, fading into darkness once more as he succumbed to the depths of unconsciousness.