The water was freezing. It rushed into his nose and mouth, tasting of silt and old vegetation. He dove deep, eyes open, searching for the blue light, the shimmering portal, the woman in white—anything that looked like a way home.
He saw nothing but murky green depths and the tangled roots of lotus plants.
His lungs began to burn. The heavy silk of the kimono, designed to be beautiful rather than buoyant, began to pull him down. It felt like being wrapped in a lead blanket. He struggled, his limbs flailing, but the weight was too much.
I'm going to die twice in one day, he thought bitterly. And the second time, I'm going to die in a dress.
Just as his vision began to grey at the edges, a pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist. He was hauled upward, breaking the surface with a violent cough.
He was dragged onto the stone bank, shivering and gasping for air. A group of men in official robes stood over him, looking horrified.
"What is the meaning of this?" a deep, cold voice demanded.
Hina wiped the water from his eyes and looked up. Standing before him was a man in an embroidered dragon robe. He was handsome in a sharp, intimidating way, his expression a mix of annoyance and genuine confusion.
"The King..." someone whispered in the background.
Hina stared at the man. King Ito Daiki. The puppet king. The man his "body" was supposed to marry.
The King knelt down, his eyes scanning Hina's dripping, shivering form. "Does the future Queen Mother find the palace so stifling that she wishes to live among the fish? Or is this another one of your temper tantrums, Akari?"
Hina looked at the King, then down at his own water-logged chest, then back at the dark, mocking lake. The realization finally hit him with the weight of a falling mountain. He wasn't just in the wrong time or the wrong body.
He was stuck.
"I want my life back," Hina croaked, his voice trembling with a mix of cold and fury.
The King narrowed his eyes. "You have your life, Akari. Try to keep it out of the water from now on. It's becoming a nuisance."
As the King walked away, his attendants scurrying behind him, Hina lay on the cold stones, staring at the sky. He was a 21st-century man, a master chef, a womanizer, and a cynic. And now, he was a Heaian Queen with no power, no rights, and—most tragically of all—no kitchen.
"This," he whispered into the dirt, "is going to be a problem."
…..
The heavy scent of medicinal herbs hung thick in the air of the Queen's chambers, a smell Hina found personally offensive. In his former life, herbs were meant to garnish a perfectly seared duck breast, not to be boiled into a bitter, sludge-like tea that smelled like a wet forest floor. He sat cross-legged on the floor—a position that earned him yet another horrified gasp from Court Lady Haruka.
"Sama! Please, your posture! A lady of your standing must sit with her legs tucked, like a blooming lotus, not... like a common soldier in a tavern!"
Hina looked down at his knees, splayed wide for comfort. "Listen, Haruka. My soul is currently experiencing a major system error. I don't care about the lotus; I care about the fact that I'm wearing twelve layers of laundry and I can't find a single cup of decent coffee in this entire zip code."
"Zip... code?" Court Lady Haruka exchanged a terrified look with the younger maid, . "Is that a spell? Has the lake water cursed your tongue?"
Hina sighed, leaning his head back against the lacquered wall. He needed a plan. He was Yosida Hina —the man who had navigated the shark-infested waters of the Blue House kitchen. If he could handle a diplomatic crisis involving an undercooked soufflé, he could handle a bunch of people in funny hats.
"Alright, let's do a SWOT analysis," Hina muttered to himself. "Strengths: I'm the Queen. I have a staff. I'm surprisingly pretty. Weaknesses: I'm in the 19th century. I have no phone. I have... anatomical deficiencies. Opportunities: The King seems like a pushover. Threats: Everything else."
He turned his gaze to Haruka, who was busy arranging a tray of traditional sweets. "You. Haruka. Tell me about the King. Is he always that... stiff? Or does he just have a stick up his royal backside?"
Haruka dropped a sweet, her face turning ashen. "Sama" You mustn't speak of His Majesty that way! He is the Sun of Hisean! He is... he is very diligent!"
"Diligent. Right. That's code for 'boring,'" Hima cncluded. He grabbed a small, honey-coated rice cake and popped it into his mouth. He chewed, his professional palate immediately dissecting the texture. "Too much honey. Needs a hit of salt to balance the sweetness. And the texture is too dense. Tell the kitchen they're overworking the flour."
"Sama, you've never cared about the kitchen before," Court Lady remarked, her suspicion growing. "You used to say the kitchen was beneath your dignity."
Hina smirked, a predatory glint in his eyes that looked entirely foreign on Akari's delicate face. "Well, times have changed. If I'm going to be stuck in this period piece, I'm at least going to eat well. Now, bring me a map of the palace. I need to see exactly how many ponds we're dealing with. One of them has to be my ticket home."
As the servants scrambled to obey, Hina caught his reflection in a brass basin. He touched the soft skin of his cheek. He was trapped in a golden cage, surrounded by people who expected him to be a silent, graceful ornament.
"Sorry, Akari" he whispered to the reflection. "But I don't do 'silent.' I'm about to turn this palace upside down."