The final image that Kaito recalled was that of an unappetizing aroma of ramen and the gray light of his laptop display.
He had been up all night, trying to make out a sickly piece of code in his Computer Science project.
His neck had frozen and he had fallen backwards face first onto his futon. He was a good looking, but a bit messy, sophomore in college named Kaito with his witiness and exceptional skills of getting out of uncomfortable circumstances.
The chirping of an alarm next the bedside woke him up out of a dreamless sleep.
He moaned and his hand got out to hit the snooze button. An exception to this is that the hand that swiped over the old wooden nightstand has the wrong feel. Delicate, almost fragile. The nails were pink, soft and polished. Kaito frowned, and the eyes had to open.
It was the same room: the same old distracted blue curtains, the cluttered desk, the poster of some old motorcycle. But as he struggled himself up there was a rush of bewilderment. The blanket which had a tendency to be heavy and roughly spun, was light and silky on his skin. And his chest it was heavy and different and disquietingly round.
He had a panic, cold and absolute. He jumped out of the bed where his legs got in the unknown silkpajamas. He saw himself in the full length mirror that was propping against the wall.
He paused with his breath choked in his throat.
Staring back was not Kaito.
That was certainly a beautiful face in the mirror. And long, silky hair of warm honey and sunshine of yellowishbrown, floated down over the narrow shoulders. The eyes were greatly set and the lashes were long and pale. The cheeks were gentle, the lips full and naturalrose.
It was a stop loss, exquisite, airy like portrait of girlish beauty.
But it wasn't him.
"What in the... hell?" The resultant voice was light, melodious and high pitched. It was the voice of the girl in the mirror.
His fingers clapped his mouth and the soft little skin was a weird overload of sensation. This was a nightmare. A prank. He must have been drugged. He thrust a hand through the slipping hair, the weight of the dense mass of hair is outrageous.
Think, Kaito, think!
He rushed to the bathroom pouring icy water over his face. The image was not glittering or shifting. He pinched his arm, hard. No waking up. The lean body of the girl gasped sharply and femininely.
He needed proof. He grabbed his (her) cell phone on the nightstand. It was a selfie, the pretty girl in white sundress smiling at him with her radiant look. He swiped to the contacts. The character Mum had a profile picture of loving a photograph of his (her?) mother (the same kind woman) embracing this girl.
He individually banged the phone on the desk, and ran, unshod, out of his (her) room, along the old family route of his (her) house.
Parents were discovered in the kitchen. His father was reading his morning paper and his mother, was frying off pancakes. Looking up, they smoothed their faces with the old, natural love.
Good morning, mother. Morning, honey," his mother said, and in an encouraging tone. "You're up early. Did you sleep well, Kaelin?"
Kaelin. The name pierced him.
Mom," he said, the female voice was still a shock. "Mom, what's going on? Who... who is Kaelin?"
His mother smiled and ran over to loop the honey colored hair on his (her) face. "Silly girl. You're Kaelin, of course. Kaelin Hoshi. Did you hit your head? You are taking so big a history your exam today, sweetie.
He gazed upon his father in search of the customary fathersides.
His father lowered the paper, he looked worried. "What's wrong, Kaelin? You look pale. Since you were born, pumpkin, you have been Kaelin. A beautiful one at that." He tapped the newspaper. Stop fretting about your examination. You'll ace it, just like always."
Kaito fell back with shaking head. This was not a simple physical alteration but the whole world had been edited. The memory, their whole reality have been overwritten with Kaelin.
He was trapped. Caught in the beautiful body of a perfect stranger, phase in well orderly life of perfect strangers. He sat down on a kitchen stool, and the metallic odour of the pancakes his mother had made all came to him in a sick cloying scent.
Kaito is gone. Only Kaelin remains.
He was forced to go along with it at least till he could establish the means of escape.