During sunset, I found myself on the bus, heading towards Kunimitsu’s house. The trip back was just as peaceful as the trip to the tournament ground. These solitary trips to and from tournaments feel so nostalgic.

I wonder how those two are feeling right now? They probably already figured out that I used this body’s less preferred arm. Sanada has more than likely started his one-sided rivalry with me, and Yukimura certainly sees me as a fearsome opponent.

As I exit the bus, I take note that I am unconsciously using my left hand with greater frequency. Truly a strange sensation. I can intuitively tell that my left arm is the origin point of the potential of this vessel, and while accepting this fact will further my growth, it's unsatisfying. Conceding to anyone or anything has always left a bitter taste in my mouth, which is why I worked tirelessly to be irreproachable in my other vessel.

Unfortunately, a stubborn attitude cannot overcome this obstacle.

*Sigh*

As if to taunt me, I can feel my right arm throbbing. Looking down, I can see a bit of swelling. Those [ZS Drop Shots] are really a burden. Many of Kunimitsu's techniques rely on adding heavy rotational force. What he performs is not physically possible in a normal world, and even in this world, it's beyond exceptional. The secret to creating the logic-defying techniques that few can replicate and fewer can perform with the same level of finesse?

Flexible joints!

Hehehe.

While Kunimitsu isn't double-jointed, his range from his shoulder to his elbow, his wrist, and even his fingers have incredible pliability. Heck, his whole body is incredibly flexible, even more so than a kid at his age. I bet Kunimitsu would have been a great baseball pitcher, akin to a certain hot-blooded left-hander, but I digress.

The moon looming overhead, street lights flickering on, and the melodious chirping of crickets are the backdrop to my thoughts. The subject? Kunimitsu's parents.

I believe most people would be quite anxious at meeting the parents of the body that you have essentially stolen. While I have a tinge of nervousness, I am surprisingly calm. Why? Fortunately, Kunimitsu and I have much in common when comparing our personalities. We're the model for the smart and successful child that has always been quiet. As long as I behave like my usual self, there will be little if any discrepancies, and the ones found can be chalked up to the ever-changing quirks of children.

Well, whatever. No point in worrying about something that I can't control anyway.

With practiced movements, I insert the key into the front door, before walking in.

“I’m home.”

“Ah, Kunimitsu you're back. Come and tell us how your tournament went?”

The voice that responds is cheerful and feminine, which belongs to Tezuka Ayano, Kunimitisu's mother. A kind and lively parent that serves as the perfect foil to her calm and stoic son.

Walking in after taking off my shoes, I see Kunimitsu’s mother in the kitchen preparing dinner. She stands at 168 cm (5’6), with a lithe figure, and a beautiful face. Back length black hair contrasts her snow-white skin, her dark-brown eyes are graciously set into their sockets, a small nose adds to her cheery personality, and thin pink lips complete her appearance. She is wearing an apron over a loose heather purple long-sleeve shirt and dark blue jeans.

“Kon’nichiwa okāsan¹mother,” I say with a slight bow of the head.

“Kon’nichiwa Kunimitsu,” she says in a joyful voice. 

Before talking about my day, I see Kunimitsu’s father already sitting at the dining table, reading some documents. He stands at an even 178 cm (5’10) with a lean physique. His face is slightly tan with relaxed dark-brown eyes set elegantly within the sockets, a tall nose, thin slightly red lips, and a few smile lines. His dark brown hair is styled exactly like Kunimitsu’s or is it the other way around.

“Kon’nichiwa otōsan²father,” I say once again with a small head bow.

“Hmm? How are you Kunimitsu?”

“I’m doing well otōsan.”

“*Sigh* This child is so formal, even to his own dad.”

“Honey, you said that aloud,” says Kunimitsu’s mother to his father

“Ahh!”

With that, he begins to scratch the back of his head in embarrassment. 

Not visibly reacting, I sit opposite Kuniharu Tezuka, the amicable and slightly awkward father of Kunimitsu. He wants to pamper his son which proves improbable considering Kunimitsu’s personality. Nonetheless, he is a considerate father and a hard worker, having a mid-level manager position at his trading company.

“I’m glad you made it home safely otōsan.”

“Thank you, Kunimitsu. How was the tournament?”

“It was interesting. Met a few interesting opponents.”

“Hmmm...Ah! It’s okay if you didn’t win son. We’ll always be proud of you.”

“You’re otōsan is right Kinumitsu. We’re just happy with you trying your best.”

“...”

Did they think I lost? What could have given them any indication of that? Unfortunately, I’m a stubborn person who dislikes both scorn and praise.

“I didn’t lose.”

““Huh?””

“I made an error with my application and ended up disqualified. Not wanting to waste the trip, I waited for the champion and runner-up to be decided before challenging the both of them to a match.”

“And you beat both of them?” Kunimitsu’s father asks with a bit of awe in his tone.

“Not exactly-“

Before I could explain, the doorbell is rung.

“I’ll get it,” I say while taking relaxed steps to the door. As I open the door, I see an elderly man standing at 185 cm (6’0), wearing a maroon flannel, light-brown slacks, and dark-brown boots. He bears an impressive frame and gives off an aura of strength and wisdom. His slightly tanned face is matched with grey hair, swept backward, and his rugged beard. His sharp eyes, tall and prominent nose, and gentle smile on his face complete his look. 

Seeing him, I feel both relief and panic. The relief seems to come from the body of Kunimitsu, as a strange connection can be felt between me in this elderly man. The panic is because I know that this person is the most likely to discover the potential differences between Kunimitsu and myself. He is is none other than, Kunizaku Tezuka, Kunimitsu’s grandfather. 

In the brief second that I go through a small internal crisis, the elderly man drops to one knee, matching my eye level before patting me on the shoulders.

“Kunimitsu! How are you?”

“I’ve been well ojīsan³grandfather. How about you?”

“Not much to complain about. Why don’t we go inside, and you can take me to your parents.”

With a small nod, I let him enter. After he takes off his shoes, I escort him to the dining room.

Upon seeing his father, Kuniharu immediately gets up, but before he can move a muscle, Kunizaku grabs his shoulders and gives him a warm smile.

“How are you Kuniharu?” 

“I’m doing well tōsan⁴father but more informal.”

“How are you, giri no chichi⁵father-in-law?”

“I’m doing well Ayano.”

With these brief introductions, Kunizaku sat down, and dinner began in earnest. Whilst eating, the three adults talked about work, the community, even the price of rice getting more expensive. For the most part, I stayed silent and made sure to eat an ample amount. Eating well is essential for any athlete. When I was in the kitchen washing the dishes, I heard Kunizaku call out to me.

“Kunimitsu, how was your tournament?”

“That’s right, you were talking to us about that before. Mind telling us how the matches went?” Ayano asked with a genuine smile.

“Of course, ojīsan, okāsan.

The first player was a hot-blooded youth. His name was Sanada Gen’ichirō. Right-handed, good basics, and strong determination. The second, was Yukimura Seiichi, also right-handed, but is the calm and collected type. He and I tied.”

“Wait, I’m not an expert, but I thought you couldn’t tie in tennis,” Kuniharu asks with a contemplative look.

“You’re right otōsan. He and I agreed to it after winning a set each.”

“Sanada you said?” Asked Kunizaku.

“Yes ojīsan. Sanada Gen’ichirō. His black hair is bluntly cut and he has small brown eyes.”

“Ahh! He’s probably the grandson of that old coot Gen’emon.”

“I know that name. Isn’t that Gen’ichi’s father?”

“That’s right Kuniharu. I used to work with Gen’emon before I retired from the police. A hot-blooded old man, hehe.”

“What are the odds? Gen’ichi and I applied and got hired at the same time. A hot-blooded man, hm.”

“Guess that apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Gen’ichiro is definitely a hot-blooded youth.”

“I wonder if they like hot sauce?” Ayano asks gently planting her fist into her palm.

“““…HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA”””

“Hehehe,” Ayano starts chucking after making the three of us laugh.

Meanwhile in a large Japanese-styled house.

— (Sanada Gen’emon POV) —

“Achoo!

I wonder who is insulting me. I bet it’s that insufferable Tezuka Kunizaku.”

— (Sanada Gen’ichi POV) —

“Achoo!

I wonder who is insulting me. I bet it’s that obnoxious Tezuka Kuniharu.”

— (Sanada Gen’ichirō POV) —

“Achoo!

I wonder who is insulting me. I bet it’s that cocky Tezuka Kunimitsu.”

After a few good laughs, it was getting quite late and Kunizaku was in the foyer, tying his shoelaces, getting ready to go home.

Spending time with him and the other two was quite nice. They’re a really good family. This does not mean that I am ready to accept them as my own, heck, I’m still not sure what kind of situation I’m in. I honestly doubt I can ever call them by their titles sincerely. For me mom, dad, etc. mean more than just a position in a family. They are bonds that cannot be broken even after death. Maybe one day that’ll change…Ahhh whatever. I’ll think about it later.

“I’ll be going Kunimitsu.”

“Take care ojīsan.”

“Let’s go fishing soon.”

“Un.”

After which he pats my head and gives me a smile he walks out the door. I watch his back until it disappears from view before heading back through the gate, locking it, and eventually the door.

Climbing the stairs with my tennis bag I head towards Kunimitsu’s room.

“Ahhhh.”

I enjoy the warm water as I process today’s events.

“…So in short, I am now Tezuka Kunimitsu.

How and why am I even here? Is it even possible to dream about an entire life with such vivid detail?”

I lower my head into the bath until only my eyes are showing.

Lifting my head out of the water, “Does it even matter? I’m in such a troublesome situation and have neither the tools nor desire to figure out the answer. I’ll just do what I want until I get some more answers.”

With those words, I get out of the shower and grab a towel to dry myself. As I sit in Kunimitsu’s room reading, I hear a knock on the door.”

“Come in.”

“I wanted to tell you that your otōson and I are going to bed. Make sure you get to bed after you’re finished with your reading.”

“I will okāsan, tell otōsan goodnight.”

“Goodnight Kunimitsu, I love you.”

“Un.”

She leaves with a kind smile on her face. Not telling her 'I love you' hurts much less than you would expect, but still stings.

She’s technically Kunimitsu’s mother. All her memories are with her son, not me. As guilty as I feel, I am equally powerless in this situation. This is just like accepting this body's preference to be left-handed. I can feel a force wanting to guide my behavior and actions. Even if I know that it’s beneficial for me, it leaves me with a bitter taste in my mouth to just comply. 

But I’ve been working with the premise that this is an external force. What if these feelings are those of Kunimitsu's? Since I stole his body against his will, he wants me to accept a few conditions. As much as I dislike being manipulated, I have an equal distaste for owing someone a favor.

…

*Sigh*

“Okay, I accept.”

As soon as I speak those words, I feel an invisible weight being lifted off my shoulders. Resolving myself, I head back downstairs to the master bedroom before knocking.

“Come in.”

“Okāsan, otōsan, I love you, and goodnight.”

With this, I leave the bedroom closing the door behind me.

“What was that about?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not complaining.”

“Hehe, I can’t believe Kunimitsu said ‘I love you to me,” Kuniharu says with a childish grin on his face.

“To you? I remember him saying it to the both of us,” Ayano states as she raises an eyebrow.

“Details, details.”

“Well, he said my name first.”

 “Why would that matter?”

“Doesn’t that mean he loves me first?”

“Huhhh? How does that make sense?”

“Hehe, of course, Kunimitsu loves his lovely okāsan before his stinky otōsan.”

“Oi! Whose stinky?” Kuniharu says with indignation.

“You, stinky!” Ayano says sticking her tongue out.

Unbeknownst to them, I heard the entire conversation after closing the door.

Lying in my bed, I knew that I had lots of work to do. Saying ‘I love you’ felt forced, and was only partially sincere. Since I’ve accepted Kunimitsu’s request, I need to actively accept those two as my parents, and Kunizaku as my grandfather. Thankfully, Kunimitsu didn’t bother making friends in elementary school.

I know what’s supposed to happen, but I also have the possibility of changing events. So many alternate routes to takes. Whatever. Let’s worry about tomorrow’s problems tomorrow.

saturrn

This chapter was challenging to write. The jokes are awful, and I'm pretty sure I didn't use the Japanese terms for family members correctly even though I spend a few hours trying to find the right terminology. If you have any suggestions, feel free to tell me. The reason I want to stick with the Japanese terms is that it would feel half-hearted to call people -san, -chan, -kun, -senpai, -sensei, etc., and not give family members the same level of detail. Thanks for reading. Please answer the poll. This one is a bit inconsequential, but the following will affect the path of the story