The Great Shift: Kiyomi's Tale free porn video

The Great Shift: Kiyomi's Tale Mariko Everyone remembers where they were when the Great Shift happened. How can you not? Unless you were one of the lucky 7%, you wound up in the body of a stranger. You were younger, or older, or shorter, or fatter, or a different race or sex. Even those not directly affected had to deal with a world suddenly turned on its head. Most were horrified, but to me, it was a gift from heaven. One second, I'm lying in my bed at the Shorecrest Retirement Center, a 97-year-old wreck of a man who was just waiting for God to turn out the lights. The next second I'm rolling down a sidewalk straight into a mailbox. I banged my knees and chin on hard steel and left a layer of skin on the pavement. Then I blacked out. I know what you're thinking. I remember what happened before I blacked out? Look, I'm just telling you how it went. I leave the hows and whys to God and science. When I came to, my chin and knees were aching something fierce. I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was a yellow Toyota wrapped around a tree, not ten feet away, and for some reason I thought, Never could stand those Jap cars anyway. I heard sirens and people yelling, and I smelled smoke, gasoline, burnt rubber, and of all things, strawberries. It was almost like being back in the Great War, except for the strawberries. For a moment, that's exactly what I thought: I was in the middle of a war. But I didn't hear shots being fired, or any explosions. I crawled to the side of the walk and rolled over on the grass. It was cool on my skin. I stared up at the clouds drifting across the sky and tried to figure out where I was, and why my artificial hip didn't hurt anymore. Despite my raw knees and my tender chin, I felt more vibrant, more alive, than I had in -- well, more than half a century. Was I dead? Was this heaven? I think I was in shock. Heaven most likely doesn't involve sirens and auto accidents and people screaming everywhere, but I felt too good for this to be hell. So if I was on earth, what was going on? I sat up and looked at myself. My legs were long and thin and light brown. Now, I'm of pure Norwegian stock, and I'd never managed a decent tan in my entire life, so that smooth, brown skin set off alarms all throughout my head. Of course, a part of my brain already knew that I was no longer the man I'd been, but I was ignoring it. My feet were encased in lavender in-line rollerskates. At the time, I didn't even know what in- line skates were; I only knew that if I wanted to get anywhere, I'd be going barefoot. I was wearing a denim skirt. That seemed very strange, but you have to remember that, before the Great Shift, guys never wore skirts. It was only when half the male population were former women that men's skirts (kilts, if you prefer, but let's not kid ourselves, men's skirts are nothing like a Scottish great kilt) actually became popular. I mean, I know they're mostly a fad, but back then it just wasn't done at all. People would look at you funny. My hand -- when did my hand become so small? -- lifted the corner of the dark blue denim. It was a wraparound skirt of some sort, and I'm not sure why I had to lift it up, but I did. Beneath the flap, I found that I was really wearing a pair of shorts. I didn't know what skorts were, either, but, somehow, I felt better knowing that they only looked like a skirt, as if actually wearing a skirt would have, somehow, made everything worse. In the back of my mind, I knew that I was now female, and fairly young. I don't know how I knew, but I did. Perhaps my subconscious was more adept at interpreting all of the clues that my body was sending it. In any case, the dominate part of my brain had not yet accepted the truth, so, with fear, and apprehension, and not a little wonder, I slid my hand under the skirt flap and down between my legs. My crotch was one smooth expanse of denim, curving from my belly on down. There were no bumps, nothing like a penis and testes to be found. I cupped my crotch with my hand, and felt a jolt of -- fear? excitement? I wasn't sure what I felt. Emotions surged through me, and then a warm wetness was spreading beneath my cupped hand. I snatched my hand away. Suddenly I was glad that I had a skirt flap hanging over the front. Not that I'd been able to control my bladder for the last few years, but it was different when you're 97 and in a nursing home. I felt embarrassed, as if finding yourself transformed into a girl wasn't excuse enough to pee your pants. How old was I, anyway? What had happened? I was very, very confused. I'm sure you've heard this story before. Over a billion people -- a quarter of the population, and some say maybe two billion -- changed sex when the shift happened. Nobody quite knows why. It's as if God woke up one morning, looked at all of the sexual hangups the people of the world had, and said, "time to stir up the pot. Let them figure THIS one out!" Of course, we know that it wasn't an act of God, but some stupid scientists in New Mexico, part of a top-secret project of some sort. I'm sure they wanted to keep a lid on it, but with the collapse of the government and with everyone getting switched around, the real story was bound to came out. These days you can't hardly turn on the TV without seeing another documentary about it. The scientists were all vaporized instantly. There are a lot of people -- a lot -- who would rather they died slow and painful-like, but that's what you get. A few brilliant boys in the desert hit the reset button for all of mankind, and don't live long enough to appreciate what they've done. I wore a light yellow cotton top, sleeveless, sort of a tank top but with very thin straps over my shoulders to hold it up. Not exactly the thing to wear when skating, I thought. It had a v-neck, with a sky-blue flower the size of a quarter stitched at the center of my chest, just below where the vee met. All told, the top might have displayed cleavage nicely, if I'd had any, but my chest was flat as a flapjack. I'm not sure if I was relieved, or disappointed. Pre-pubescent, then. Hopefully at least 12. If I was going to experience life again, I preferred skipping the first ten years or so. Black hair hung at the edge of my vision, brushing lightly against my bare shoulders, and I grabbed some and held it before me. It was just barely shoulder-length, and was very fine and very straight, like you might find on an oriental. Was I Chinese then? Japanese? Korean? Vietnamese? It was all very exciting -- an adventure like I hadn't had in several decades. Like I'd never had, I should say. It's not every day you become a 12-year old girl, without ever having been an 11-year-old girl first. But my life, for many years, had been very, very dull, and now, in the blink of an eye, it had become new, and strange, and thrilling. Then reality began to set in. What now? My shorts were uncomfortably wet, but that was the least of my problems. I didn't know where I was. Hell, I doubt I could find the retirement center if you'd set me more than a block away -- not that I had any desire to go back there. But if not there, then what? Should I try to find my son and daughter-in-law's house? They lived somewhere in this city, but I didn't really know where. And what about this girl I'd become? Surely she had a family, somewhere nearby, but how would I find them? Did I even want to? If I was in her body, then was she in mine? That seemed likely. I felt like a heel, but I already knew that I was going to do whatever it took to stay here, in this body. I didn't wish her ill. I really hoped she'd landed in a body other than mine. And that was entirely possible, because, while I sat on the grass examining myself, I was hearing everything going on around me. A lot of people had switched bodies, it seemed, and few of them were happy about it. There was screaming, shouting, cursing, and sobbing coming from all around me, and people were running up and down the street as if the world had come to an end. Perhaps it had. I had no idea what was going on, but it certainly was interesting. I still smelled strawberries. After a moment, I realized the scent was coming from me. Some sort of kid's perfume? I had no idea. I removed my skates and socks, plopped my bare feet in the cool green grass, and watched the world slowly disintegrate. A man, his belt unbuckled, stumbled out of the alley across from me. He looked about, wildly, and then ran down the street, screaming. A minute or two later, a woman appeared from the same alley. Her dress was torn, and her face looked bruised. She looked down at herself, and began cussing a blue streak. Then she, too, ran off. A rape in progress, when the switching took place? I could only guess, but I thought it would be a curiously fitting justice for a rapist to wind up on the receiving end of his crime. Not so good for the victim, I suppose, if she got his body. I saw an old man crawling down the street on his hands and knees like a child. Another man yelled at me as he ran past, "Look at me! I can run! I can move my legs!" A police car rolled through the neighborhood, with a small boy on the passenger side and a woman dressed like an aging housewife behind the wheel. Another woman was walking down the street, dragging a 3-year-old along who was kicking and screaming words that no kid that young should know. A girl wandered towards me. She was young, about six years old, with very dark skin and her hair in cornrow braids. She wore a bright blue dress, with a huge ribbon in back, and was beautiful to behold. Like everyone else, she looked very confused, but when she saw the yellow Toyota wrapped around a tree, her eyes lit up. She ran up to the car and, standing on her tiptoes, peered in. Then she turned away and began to retch in the grass. "That's why I didn't bother to look," I said. "It seemed pretty obvious that the driver didn't survive." "Oh my God," she said. Her voice was soft and high- pitched, but the words clearly didn't come from a six- year-old. "Oh my God. Oh my God. What am I going to do now? What the hell's happening? What's going on?" She collapsed on the ground a few feet away from me. It sounded like she was hyperventilating. "Did you get switched, too?" I asked. "Oh God. Oh God. That's my body in there, in that car. That's my car, and my body's in there, and... oh God, nobody should ever have to see themselves like that. Oh God, what am I going to do? My body's dead. I'm a little girl. What's going on?" "I don't know," I said. "Everybody's gotten switched around. That's all I know. I've just been sitting here, kind of taking it all in." "I can't be a girl. I'm a guy! Don't you see? This is all fucked up! I can't do this! I can't!" "Take it easy," I said. "Just lay down and relax. There's nothing you can do about it, so don't get worked up. Everything's going to sort itself out, eventually." "How can you say that? I'm a little girl now! I don't want to be a girl!" "It could be a lot worse, you know. You could be dead. You could be so old that death would be a blessing. You could be an infant. Instead, you're young and healthy, and have a second shot at life." "I'm only nineteen," the girl said. "I haven't really had my first shot at life. Oh man, and I was going to make first string this year! I had everything figured out, and now it's fucked up! This isn't fair!" I had to admit, I might have been a lot more upset if I'd only been 19, instead of 97. I'd lived a long, full life, and getting a second shot at it, from the other side of the gender fence, yet, looked like a wonderful deal to me. But being only 19, and then becoming a 6- year-old girl, was a different proposition. "What's your name?" I asked her. I couldn't help but think of her as a girl, no matter what she'd been an hour ago. "Brendan," she said. "Brendan Lawrence." "My name's Olaf," I said. The name sounded strange in my new, girl's voice. "Guess I should find something more suited for a girl, though," I added. "You were a guy too?" the girl said, sitting up. As I was nodding, two more kids skated towards us on in-like skates similar to the ones in the grass beside me. One of them saw me and yelled out, "Kiyomi! Hey, Kiyomi!" They came to a stop in front of us. They were about twelve, the age I hoped I was. The first, a boy, wore oversized black jeans, an oversized Cowboy's jersey, and a skater's helmet, with pads on his knees and elbows -- something I wished I'd been wearing before my spill. He had light brown skin and short, curly, black hair. The other, a girl, had blonde hair hanging past her shoulders. She wore yellow shorts and a white tee-shirt, and also had a helmet, knee, and elbow pads. They looked me up and down, probably noticing the way I stared at them. "You're not Kiyomi, are you?" the girl asked. "I'm afraid not," I replied. "I'm Jason," the boy said, "and this is my friend Jeremy. He's a girl now. I'm in his body, and he's in Suzan Krustenjerna's body, so he's not just a girl, but a white girl." "Krustenjerna's a fine Norwegian name," I said. "Anyway, Susan was really stuck up, but now that she's Jeremy, I guess she's okay." "Thanks a lot, jerkwad," the girl said. "Shut up!" the boy returned. "Anyway, have you heard the news? They're saying this has happened all over the world! 90% of the population just got switched around, can you believe it? So, you're in Kiyomi Hasegawa's body now, but who are you really?" So, I thought, I'm Japanese, then. Never liked Jap cars anyway. I smiled and glanced at the yellow Toyota, remembering my first thought upon waking. God had a strange sense of humor sometimes. Not that it really mattered -- given the circumstances, I'd take whatever I could get. But knowing who and what I was was comforting, somehow. "I'm Olaf Gunderson," I said. "Or at least, I was." "Olaf?" The boy wrinkled his nose. "That's a weird name. Do you go to school at J. C. Long's?" "I'm afraid not. Up until an hour ago, I was a 97- year-old man, living at Shorecrest Retirement Center." Jason's eyes went wide. "Are you shittin' me? You were in the nursing home?" He turned to his friend. "You see? I told you things could've been worse! How'd you like to be some old granny in a nursing home?" Jeremy had an appropriately horrified look on her face, but quickly recovered. "It still sucks being a girl," she said. "Yeah," Jason agreed. "I'm lucky I'm still a guy. Hey, Kiyomi -- can I call you that? I can't imagine calling you Olaf." I shrugged. "Sure. Kiyomi's a pretty name," I said. "By the way, do you know who this other girl is?" I pointed to the six-year-old next to me. "I mean, do you recognize her body?" Jason and Jeremy shook their heads, and Brendan said, "I woke up in another car. Whoever was in it had already run off, so I don't really know who's body I'm in. Maybe I'll never know." "Anyway," Jason said, "do you want to come with us? We're cruising the neighborhood, checking everything out. You wouldn't believe how messed up everything is! My dad's a woman now, and my mom's the guy from next door! It's really weird! Jeremy's mom is still herself, but his father was at work and hasn't called in, and we're still looking for his sister, and some of our friends." I eyed the skates lying on the grass dubiously. "Thanks," I said, "but I don't think I'm up for skating just yet. I'll stay here with Brendan. But when you're done, could you come back and show me the way to Kiyomi's house?" "You got it!" Jason said, as the two skated off. After a while, the girl next to me said, "So, you were 97 years old?" "Yep," I said. "Well," she said, "I guess that's not so bad for you then." People were still wandering the streets, but all of the screaming and yelling was dying down. "Do you think someone will come by to ask who we were?" Brendan asked. Her voice was soft and sweet, and I kept thinking, she doesn't look or sound anything like a guy. And then I'd look at myself, and remind myself yet again, neither do I. "I mean," she added, "they're going to need to take a census or something, find out who everyone is now. It's a complete mess otherwise." "Maybe the officials are busy with their own problems right now," I said. "Man," she said, "this is so fucked up it's scary. I mean, what if you're the CEO of a major company, only now you're six years old? What if the President, or the members of Congress, are now children? What if ten people say they're really the President, or that they're really Bill Gates? How can you prove who you are?" "I don't know," I said. The more I thought about it, the scarier the whole thing became. "It's worse than that. Let's say I'm in jail. First of all, some of the guards are going to be switched with the inmates, guaranteed. I bet there's jailbreaks going on all over the country right now. But even if you're still locked up, how can we know you're really a criminal, and not some innocent person trapped in a criminal's body? "Or say Bill Gates winds up in an infant, or in a comatose or mentally deficient body, or just dead. I mean, you could claim to be the richest man in the world, and he wouldn't even be around to deny your claim. You could just take over his life!" "I doubt that would happen," I said. "His family would be able to tell an imposter." "Probably," she conceded, "but I guarantee you, that's going to happen on a lesser scale. People are going to assume the lives of other people, and nobody will be able to gainsay them. If what that kid said was true - - 90% of the population has switched -- then we might be looking at the collapse of civilization." "I doubt that," I said, "but it's going to be a big mess for the near future, I'll certainly concede that much. But as for me, my assets amount to a social security check and a modest savings account, so if somebody else assumes my identity, fine by me. Then again, I wonder if I can still collect social security? That's going to be a mess to sort out, too. "But the first order of business, for you and I, is finding a place to stay the night." "My dorm's on the other side of town, at the University," the girl said. "Not that I'd want to sleep there, in this body. I don't think I could trust some of the weirder guys who live there." She giggled suddenly. "What am I thinking? They could all be little girls by now, too! "Anyway, my car's trashed, not that I could drive it now, and I doubt the busses are running at the moment, and I'm not up to walking across town. Especially now." She sighed. "Yeah, I think you're right. Finding a place to spend the night is job one. I can't sleep outside, not like this." I didn't say anything, but I was worried about finding a permanent place to live. If I could stay with my son's family, or his daughter's, that would be best, but I didn't know what had happened to them. Maybe the family of the girl I'd become would help us. Otherwise, I suppose it was a foster home, or a state children's home, or something equally unappealing. "Are you thirsty?" Brendan asked. "Kind of," I said. "I know I am," the girl said, "and I'm tired of sitting here. That's getting us nowhere." "I'm waiting for Jason and Jeremy to come back," I said. "Well, that's fine for you, but I don't have a family to go to. My parents are divorced, and they both live more than a thousand miles from here. I have no idea who's family my body came from, I'm not likely to ever find out and I don't really care to know in any case. So, if I'm going to sit here, then I want something to drink, but in order to purchase anything I'm going to need my wallet, and I don't know if I can stand to look at my dead body again." "You want me to get it?" I asked. "Yeah, if you could." "Okay," I said. I stood up, wobbily. I hadn't tried to do anything in this body yet, and it had been years since I walked in any case, but after a moment I felt more confident, and then I smiled. It was so easy. The ache from my chin and my knees had faded, and, amazingly, nothing else ached. I felt like I could run a marathon in this body! I walked around the crumpled car to the driver's side. The door was accordianed a little, and probably wouldn't open. Glancing at my thin arms, I realized I didn't have the strength to try and force it anyway. But the window was rolled down, so I pulled myself up and leaned in. It was a gruesome sight. The body was impaled on the shaft of the steering wheel. There was no air bag, apparently, and the poor guy -- whoever had been in the body at the time of impact -- hadn't stood a chance. I wondered, for a moment, if it had been Kiyomi, the girl who's body I now wore. I quickly dismissed the thought; it was too plausible and too horrible to contemplate. Averting my eyes and touching as little as possible, I leaned down and wormed my arm between the seat and the body. I found the wallet, thankfully in the left back pocket, and pulled it free. Brendan and I wandered down the street, past an Italian restaurant and a bookstore. At the corner was a bank with a cash machine. I had to lift Brendan up so that she could use it, which wasn't easy, given the strength of my new body. "I should draw out all of the cash, I guess," Brendan said. "I don't think I'm going to be using it any more." "Is there a lot?" "Not really," she said. "I'm just a college student. Was, anyway." We found a deserted convenience store and went in. We grabbed two cokes, two corn dogs, and some bubblegum. I don't know why, but bubblegum sounded really good all of a sudden. I'd never touched the stuff before in my life, but when I suggested it, Brendan nodded and snatched up three different flavors. "What should we do?" Brendan asked. "Just take this stuff?" "Leave some money on the counter," I said. The little girl nodded. She counted out several dollars and then, standing on her tip-toes, placed them next to the cash register. "That's probably more than enough," she said. "We could probably get some ice cream too, if you want." "That sounds good," I said, and I pulled two ice cream bars from the freezer by the door. Again, I'd never eaten much ice cream, but I had a sudden craving for it. Learning to be a kid again might not be so difficult. As we walked back, Brendan frowned. "Being a girl's one thing," she said, "but being so short really sucks, and I could do without this stupid dress." "It's very pretty," I said. "I don't want to be pretty," she shot back. "Get used to it," I said. "But hey, at least you've got shoes." She looked at my bare feet and giggled, and it was the most natural sound a six-year-old might make. I bit into my ice cream bar, trying to keep the shards of chocolate shell from escaping, and wondered if we would continue to acclimate, until being young and female was as natural to us as breathing. *** Brendan and I sat on the grass for several hours. At one point she leaned into me and fell asleep, and I put my arm around her, imagining that she was my little sister. Later, I felt the urge to pee again, and so I woke her up and we went looking for a restroom. The Italian restaurant let us use theirs. It was, I must say, an enlightening experience. Jason and Jeremy returned a great deal later, as the sun was setting. In the meantime we'd talked to more people who were out wandering the streets, and heard many stories as strange and confusing as ours. Jason and Jeremy led us to the Hasegawa household, quite a few blocks away. It was a two-story house, old but recently refurbished. "I live just up the street," Jeremy said, "and Jason lives two blocks down. School's only five blocks away. Are you going to live here now?" "I don't know," I replied. I was feeling pretty nervous on that score, and I could see real fear in Brendan's eyes. The house had a wide porch with ivy clinging to it and a high-backed wooden bench on the left side. There was a large maple in the middle of the front lawn, and the dusk breeze rustled through it's leaves. Somewhere down the street a dog was barking. This would be a nice place to call home, I decided, allowing my imagination to roam for a moment. We knocked on the door. A young, dark-skinned boy answered. "Hey!" Jason suddenly exclaimed. "You've got my body!" The boy looked at Jason, then at the four of us. He looked most intensely at me. "You have my daughter's body," he said. He opened the door wider and added, "Perhaps you should come in." Jeremy and Jason removed their skates. A beautiful young woman, in her early twenties, with red hair and a pale, freckled face stepped into the entryway. "Who is it?" she asked, and then she saw me, and her eyes went wide. "Oh! Kiyomi, what happened to you?" she exclaimed. Then, on the heels of that, she added, "but you're not Kiyomi, are you? How silly of me. Still, seeing my daughter's body like that...." I glanced down at myself. My knees were bloodied and scabbing over, my feet were filthy from having walked barefoot for several hours, I had grass stains on my arms and legs and clothing, and there was sticky chocolate and mustard stains down my front. I probably had a visible bruise where I'd hit my chin. So much for first impressions. "This way, please," the man in Jason's body said. "We were just discussing... things. Family matters. Our family is... well, it's better just to show you." We followed them into a large living room. In one corner burbled a small rock sculpture with a waterfall and a pool. There were two large futon couches, set opposite each other, with a coffee table between them. On one side sat a young Asian girl of about nine or ten, a Japanese boy of thirteen or fourteen, and an older Japanese man, slightly balding and with round, Lennon- style glasses. He was probably in his late thirties. The dark-skinned boy and the red-haired woman sat with them, while the four of us sat on the opposite couch. Spotting me, the young boy and girl gave slight gasps. "Kiyomi?" the girl asked. "It's just my body, stupid," the boy said. "It's probably some other girl inside." "Allow me to introduce myself and my family," the dark-skinned boy said. "My name is Hiroki Hasagawa, and I am -- or was -- a 40-year-old businessman. I am fortunate enough to run my own business, and am doubly fortunate to have landed in a body that is still male, albeit a juvenile one. "This is my wife, Natsumi." He gestured to the young red-haired woman. "She is also fortunate, in that she is still female, and only eight years older than me. This will obviously put a strain on our marriage, but it is far from insurmountable. I expect it will get better the more my new body matures." He gestured to the young Asian girl. "This," he said, "is my son, Hikaru, who is now my daughter. He has the body of a young Han Chinese girl from down the street. The boy next to her is Kiyomi, who's body you are in. She is now in her older brother's body, and has decided to change her name to Makato. "This older gentleman is my grandmother, Noriko, who is now in my old body. Her new name is Noboyuki. As you can see, strange things have happened to us today, but our family remains intact, for which I am grateful. "Now it is your turn. If you would, please let us know who you all are." Jason and Jeremy eyed each other. "I'm Jason," the boy said. "I've got Jeremy's body now." "Really?" Makato said. "Lucky for you! What happened to Jeremy?" "Um..." Jeremy said, "I'm Jeremy...." This eliciting giggles from the Hasegawa children. "Jeremy?" Hikaru exclaimed. "You wound up in Susan Krustenjerna's body?" "Hey," Jeremy said, "look who's talking! You're a dorky girl, too!" "This is so weird," Makato said. "I can't believe I'm seeing someone in my body! Who are you, then?" "My name's Olaf Gunderson," I said. "Up until this morning, I was living in a nearby nursing home. I'm really 97 years old." "I'm Brendan Lawrence," Brendan said. "I'm really 19 years old." "You were both guys?" Hikaru asked. "You were a 97-year-old man?" Makato asked. "How weird! So what's it like, being in my body?" "Kind of exciting, actually," I said. "It sure beats being stuck in a nursing home. I'm glad, by the way, that you didn't just switch with me." "Boy, no kidding!" she said. "That sure would have sucked!" "I still want to know what happened to you," Mrs. Hasegawa said, looking directly at me. "Oh. I guess I was rollerskating down the sidewalk -- I mean, Kiyomi was rollerskating down the sidewalk -- when we switched." "Oh, that's right," Kiyomi said. "One minute I'm flying down the sidewalk, the next minute I'm waking up on a baseball field. Somehow, I managed to land in my brother's body despite not really being near him. Weird, huh?" "Do you have any family that you would like to call?" Mrs. Hasegawa asked, standing up. "There's a phone in the dining room." Both Brendan and I nodded. Jason and Jeremy jumped up. "Look, we'd better go," Jason said. "We told our parents that we'd be back before it got too late. They may be all switched around, but they're still my parents, you know." "I don't even know about my dad or sister yet," Jeremy added, as they headed towards the door. "I sure hope he's not a little girl or nothing. Man, this has been one fucked-up day!" *** A half hour later I hung up the phone. Brendan was sitting opposite me, looking very depressed. He hadn't been able to contact his mother, but his father was now an eighty-year-old woman who had lived next door, and was really in no position to offer Brendan any support. Meanwhile, the news from my family had been a great deal worse. "That was my granddaughter, Faith," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "Her mother, my daughter-in-law, is an infant. She switched with the neighbor's daughter, only four months old. They think the baby was switched into my granddaughter's body, which is seven months pregnant. They took her body to the hospital, and, with any luck, the baby will survive to be delivered, but her body may have to be institutionalized. "My son wound up with the body of the woman next door. When he realized what had happened to him, his wife, and his daughter, he got out a pistol and shot himself." Mrs. Hasegawa wrapped her arms around me. "I'm so sorry," she said. "This day has been a nightmare." I nodded. My euphoria of earlier, when I'd embraced the notion of starting life over, young, healthy, and female, had vanished. My chest felt tight, and I knew that if I could, I would rewind everything back to the way it was, even if it meant going back to my old body in the nursing home and slowly dying. What right did I have to live? My son was only sixty years old, and now his life was over. It wasn't fair. Of course, none of it was fair. I got the body of a 12 year old, and even if Kiyomi was only a couple of years older, someone had been left in my old, broken body. Where was the justice in that? "What about your granddaughter?" Mr. Hasegawa asked. I still had trouble thinking of the young, black boy as "Mr. Hasegawa", but his calm, serene, and no-nonsense nature helped. "She's a young girl again," I said. "About ten years old. Her husband is a woman, too, of about thirty or so. He -- she -- says that she'll take care of Faith, and the child when it's born, but... it won't be easy. He was a machinist, and it remains to be seen if she can handle the same job, while raising two others. "As for my daughter-in-law, the neighbors are going to keep her and raise her as if she were their newborn daughter. Nobody knows if she will remember who she is or not." I sighed and leaned into Mrs. Hasegawa's embrace. Tears were running down my cheeks. Moments later I felt myself being lifted up, as easily as someone might heft a back of groceries. How strange, I thought. How much did I weight, anyway? 60 lbs.? 70? Mrs. Hasegawa carried me into the living room and sat me down on the empty futon couch, then sat next to me. I leaned into her and, for the first time since I could remember, I cried. After several minutes my sobs subsided. I managed to get myself under control, and wiped the tears from my eyes. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hasegawa," I said, "it's just... I..." "No need to apologize," she said. "It's been a hard day for everyone. Look at me: I'm a 38-year-old Japanese housewife in the body of a 22-year-old Irish girl. I'm five inches taller than I was this morning, and only eight years older than my own son -- who's really my daughter, Kiyomi. My own husband is two years younger than his son! As I said, it's been very strange." I looked around. Across from me, the man who was really the grandmother of the family was comforting the six-year-old Brendan. The father looked on, his face a mask of seriousness, while his two children sat a ways off. "It seems to me," Mr. Hasegawa said, after a moment, "that neither of you have families left to return to. Perhaps it would be best if you spent the night here." "Thank you," I managed, my voice barely a whisper. "I don't mean to impose...." "Nonsense," Mrs. Hasegawa said. "You are my daughter, if only physically. As for Brendan -- where else can she turn to? You both need a stable home, for the moment at least, and our home is currently more stable than most." She glanced at her husband. "You know, dear," she said, "we've always wanted a larger family...." He nodded. "This may seem a little forward or sudden," he said, "but if you truly have nowhere else to live, you may want to consider having us formally adopt the two of you." "Adoption?" I repeated. "You're talking about... I mean, nobody adopts an adult. We'd have to be kids again." Mrs. Hasegawa nodded. "Listen," she said, "I know there are a lot of adults in the bodies of children, and many of them are going to act as if nothing's really changed, just as my husband is doing. But you don't have a family, and it's probably been a long time since you went to school -- how much education have you had, anyway?" "Um," I said. "I guess, if we're speaking formally, then not much. I dropped out of high school when I was sixteen." "Well, you see? And a lot's changed in the last sixty years or so. Computers, for example. Do you know how to use one?" "Not the faintest," I said. "I think going back to school, as an actual twelve- year-old girl, would be of enormous aid to you, both knowledge-wise and socially. It will help you adjust to your new life. As for your friend, I think we can all agree that a six-year-old girl shouldn't be living on her own, no matter how mature she is mentally. Of course, I wouldn't want to send her through first grade again -- you're a college student, aren't you, Brendan? -- but if she wanted to attend seventh grade with you, and Makato, and Hikaru, then I think that would work out just fine. There's bound to be other children who aren't the right age. Otherwise, she'll just wind up staying home with me, and I don't know how much she'll like that." "Why can't I just go back to college?" Brendan asked. "Honey, you're only six years old now," Mrs. Hasegawa replied. "We have to be realistic. Even if you could handle it mentally, you want to give yourself a chance to develop socially as well." "How come I got to go through seventh grade again?" Hikaru complained. "Because, you're only nine years old now," his mother said. "Anyway, your grades were not what they could have been, so going back a grade won't hurt you any. So that's our proposal," she continued. "If you want to live with us, in this house, then we will adopt you two as our daughters. What do you think?" "I don't know," I said. "Can I have time to think about it?" "Likewise," Brendan said. "This is all moving way too fast for me." "Of course," Mr. Hasegawa said. "I'll tell you what," Mrs. Hasegawa added. "How about we have a one-week trial? You can be our daughters for a week, to see if you like it." I glanced at Brendan. "That sounds okay," I said cautiously. She nodded in agreement. "Oh, that's wonderful!" Mrs. Hasegawa exclaimed. "But you must both promise to call me mother, okay?" Mrs. Hasegawa squeezed me tight. I lean into her larger body, and a warm feeling spread through me. A twenty-two year old Irish girl as a mother? In a Japanese household? It was a strange idea, but when I thought of calling her mother, and of her calling me daughter, it seemed wonderful, almost magical. "Now, what about names?" she asked. "Certainly I can't call you Olaf and Brendan." "Just call her Kiyomi," Makato said. "After all, she's got my body, so she should have my name as well." "Can I call you Kiyomi?" Mrs. Hasegawa asked. I nodded, feeling the warm spot in my belly growing. "As for you," Mrs. Hasegawa looked up at Brendan. "Should I call you Brenda, now?" The young black girl frowned. "That makes sense," she said, "but everyone else has Japanese names." "Call her Noriko," the grandfather said. "That was my name, but I can't use it anymore." "That's perfect!" Mrs. Hasegawa said. She wrapped the both of us in a tight hug. "Well, then: welcome home, Noriko and Kiyomi! I know how strange this day has been, but keep your chins up, and things will get better!" I felt her hand on my rear, and then she pulled away and looked at me. "Kiyomi, have you wet yourself?" she asked. I glanced down. "I... um, when I first awoke...." "Shame! Although I can hardly blame you. But you should have said something -- we need to get you out of those clothes and into the bath right away! You, too, Noriko! And, for that matter, Hikaru as well." "Aw, mom," Hikaru began. I felt myself lifted up -- by Grandfather Noboyuki. Meanwhile, Mrs. Hasegawa scooped up Noriko, and the two of us were carried down the hallway. *** The bathroom was different. There was no toilet, for one thing -- that was in a separate room. There was an outer room for undressing, and an inner room, which consisted of a large tiled area with a hand-held showerhead set into the wall, and a very large and deep bath in the back. As they stripped off our clothing, Mrs. Hasegawa and Grandfather Noboyuki explained to us that the traditional method of Japanese bathing was to thoroughly clean yourself before getting into the tub. The bath itself was just a relaxing soak in hot water, and since you were clean before you got in, you could leave the water for the next family member. Hikaru and Noriko were embarrassed, but having someone to help me undress or bathe was normal for me. It seemed silly to worry about being naked in front of girls or women when you were a girl yourself. Besides, I was interested in this new body of mine. There was a floor- length mirror in the outer room, and I spent several minutes staring into it, looking at my new body. It did feel a bit like child pornography, I guess. I didn't see myself, but a naked Japanese girl. I had to admit, she was pretty cute. "Kiyomi has clothing to wear, of course," Mrs. Hasegawa said, "and we have two boxes of clothing that belonged to the girl that Hikaru has become. As for little Noriko, I might be able to find some of Kiyomi's old clothes, but we'll need to do some shopping tomorrow. I, for one, suddenly have nothing that will fit me, and I'm sure my husband is in the same predicament." Grandfather Noboyuki filled the tub before leaving. Mrs. Hasegawa helped us wash up, and then left us to soak in the tub for a while. I think they understood that we needed time to explore our new bodies, and to get used to them. We were extra careful washing Noriko's hair. I didn't think Mother Hasegawa knew how to do cornrow braids, but she might have to learn quick. Steam filled the room, obscuring everything in a cloudy white. Water dripped from the faucet, creating hollow echoes that bounced off the tiled walls. The smell of coconut oil (from the shampoo) was everywhere. I sat on the edge of the bath and dangled my feet into the water, gasping at the intense heat. The tile felt cool and smooth on my rear. Then I stepped into the bath, walked to the back corner, and sat down, the near-scalding water rising over my strange, new crotch, my skinny waist, and my non-existent breasts.... What will it be like, I wondered, when my hips grow wide and my breasts fill out? Hikaru had to lift Noriko into the tub. The girl gasped at the heat, and then settled into a corner. Hikaru stepped in last, sitting down near the front and drawing her knees up against her body. The bath was large enough that the three of us could share it without getting our feet tangled together. There was even room for another small girl. "This is so weird," Noriko said. She looked at Hikaru and I, and then down at herself. "I've always wanted to get naked in a hot tub with a bunch of girls, but not quite like this." Even with everything that had happened today, I had trouble hearing a six-year-old girl talk like this. I kept expecting her to talk in simple words and half- sentences, like a child. That she didn't was kind of surreal. Hikaru laughed nervously. "You were both boys before, right?" she asked. Noriko and I both nodded. "I was a football player, at the University," Noriko added. "Really?" Hikaru asked. "Were you really big? What position did you play?" "I wasn't very big," Noriko admitted, "but I was pretty fast. I was a cornerback. I'd just made second string, but the coaches were really impressed. They said, if I worked hard, I could make first string this year. Now...." Her voice trailed off. "Kinda sucks, doesn't it?" Hikaru asked. "I was going to play on the baseball team this year. I was going to be a pitcher." "Why can't you still do that?" I asked. "I'm too young, now," Hikaru said. "Besides, girls play softball." He said the word as if it were something repugnant. "It's weird, you being my sister now," she said to me. "It's really weird that I'm here with you, and we're both naked, and I'm a girl too." "I can imagine," I said, although, I didn't really have to. Hikaru ran her fingers over her new sex. "It sure feels strange," she said. "I have to sit down to pee, now." "I know." "I can have babies, now. I guess." "Not for a few years yet," I said. Hikaru stared down at her crotch, deep in contemplation. "How does that work, exactly?" she asked. "You were an adult, right? You must know." I stared at her. She'd been a thirteen-year-old boy, I thought. Surely they'd explained sex and reproduction in school? "I..." I said, feeling uncomfortable with the subject. "I..." I said again. I glanced over at the six- year old next to me. "I... think Noriko could explain it better," I said. "Wimp," Noriko said, before launching into an explanation ten times more graphic than anything I'd ever heard when I was young. Even in the Great War, guys didn't talk like that. "Oh," Hikaru said, when Noriko was done. She stared down at her crotch again, and then back up at us. "But wouldn't that hurt?" *** Warm flannel was pulled over my head, and fell in ruffles to my ankles, swirling about my legs, my hips, and my entire torso. A dry pair of cotton panties hugged my lower half, with printed yellow bunnies dancing across them. The nightie had ruffles at my wrists and at my neck, and was gathered below my armpits and across my flat chest. I slipped my feet into warm fuzzy bunny slippers, and followed Mother Hasegawa down the hallway. Noriko walked beside her, a large towel wrapped about her small body. It refused to stay put and drug on the floor. Noticing this, Mother Hasegawa laughed and gathered her up, towel and all, and carried her into the bedroom. Grandfather Noboyuki was there, with a box of clothing that they'd found in the attic. Mother Hasegawa dumped Noriko unceremoniously onto the bed. The girl rolled over, exposing naked brown skin, then covered herself with the towel. I ditched the slippers so I could feel the soft thick carpet under my feet. The walls were papered in a power-blue Japanese print pattern. The room smelled of lilac and lavender, which confused me until I spotted the bowl of poupouri on the dresser. The scent clung to everything in the room. On a rocker in the corner, a sleepy kitten yawned and studied us with mild interest. I liked the music that was playing softly in the background. Later I learned it was Kitaro, a new age artist, and one of father Hasegawa's favorites. I grudgingly had to admit that some new music was actually worth listening to -- but would I have to like rock and roll now, or was that even popular anymore? I had no idea what kids were into these days. Mother Hasegawa held up a baby doll top and panties. They were white with light green and yellow flowers. "Oh, this was always my favorite!" she exclaimed. "This will do perfectly! Here, Noriko, let me dress you...." "Must I?" Mother Hasegawa frowned. "And I thought normal six- year-olds were difficult. Yes, you must. For one thing, I have nothing else for you to wear to bed, and you're not going to sleep naked...." "Geez, you sound just like my mother." "I might very well be your mother, young lady, so I'll take that as a compliment." Despite being younger, Hikaru was not that much smaller than I, so she was also given one of Kiyomi's nighties. Makato showed up as Hikaru pulled the nightie over her head. "Hey!" Hikaru exclaimed. "Don't look at me when I'm naked, you jerk!" "Please," Makato said, "it's not like I wasn't a girl this morning." "But you're a guy now!" Hikaru said. "You can't go around staring at naked girls anymore!" "I wasn't staring." "Was to!" "Was not!" "Hush, you two," their mother said. "Does the new Kiyomi get the old Kiyomi's room?" Hikaru asked. "Well, she certainly could use the clothes, and the jewelry, and the makeup and whatnot. Besides, it's decorated for a girl, and Makato's a boy now." "Mom, that's my jewelry!" "Yes dear, but boys don't wear jewelry. At least, not this kind. But since you're in Hikaru's old body, we'll put you in Hikaru's room." "Why does she -- he -- get my room?" "Because it's a boy's room, with clothing that will fit him and that you no longer need." Hikaru frowned. "Well, okay, he can have my room and my clothes, but he doesn't get any of my other stuff!" "Who'd want it anyway?" Makato said. "Junky boy's toys." "So where do I go, Mom? The guest room?" Yes, but we'll have to fix it up first." "What about Noriko?" Mrs. Hasegawa frowned. "Well, you two are the youngest...." "Aw, mom! I don't want to hafta share my room with some dumb little girl!" "I'm no more a little girl than you," Noriko exclaimed, "and I'm a hell of a lot smarter." "Noriko! If you're going to live in this house, then you'll have to watch your language! Little girls are not supposed to talk like that!" "But I'm not a...." "You are now, whether you like it or not. You're going to have to learn to adjust." The girl frowned, then said, "Yes, ma'am." "Kiyomi, would you mind sharing your room with Noriko? I know she's half your age, but it might be easiest on everyone." "I don't mind," I said. "I mean, it's not like I'm really twelve, and she's really six. Mentally, we're mature adults. We'll get along fine." Half an hour later, Noriko and I curled up beneath the covers in Kiyomi's old bed. Moonlight drifted through the window, falling on unfamiliar objects in an unfamiliar room. I thought back on the events of the day, and wondered where our lives were heading now. Noriko giggled. "You still smell like strawberries," she said. "I know." "I don't want to be a girl," she said. "I know," I replied. I wrapped my arms about her tightly, and we both drifted off to sleep. *** I awoke to the lingering scent of strawberries and the warmth of a small body against mine, my arm draped around it. For a moment I thought I was back in Minnesota, curled up with my new wife on a frosty winter morn. I'd been nineteen then, fresh from the war and freshly married, ready to take over my ailing uncle's farm. I got an early start on life. I enlisted when I was fifteen, just another snot-nosed kid looking for adventure and a way out of the Midwest. What I got was three years in Europe, in the belly of the beast that became known as the Great War, the war to end all wars. Not that it was, of course, but that's beside the point. When it was over, I was more than ready to come back, settle down, and milk cows day in and day out. Those were happy times, the best years of my life. Any time I was angry or depressed at the world, I thought of those years, with Julia, and I knew that God owed me nothing. He'd given me fifteen years of true bliss. After that, he'd taken Julia from me, leaving only old photos and our young son to remember her by. I opened my eyes and saw brown skin and black braids. I blinked for a moment, recalling the strange events of the day before. I was Kiyomi, now, a twelve-year-old Japanese girl. I had two new sisters, and all three of us had been female less than 24 hours. The previous Kiyomi was my new elder brother, and I had a mismatched pair of parents, and a mixed-up grandfather. I climbed out of bed, trying to not wake Noriko. She murmured softly, rolled over, and continued to sleep. Carefully I inspected the closet, and then the dresser. The light from the morning sun was just enough to see by. I didn't want to turn on the overhead lights just yet, for fear of waking my new sister. There were dresses and skirts in the closet, and panties, tights, tops, shorts, jeans, socks, and some training bras in the dresser. Makeup and jewelry sat on the top, along with several stuffed animals. Somehow, the personal touches in the room made me feel like an invader, as if I'd snuck into someone's room and was going through their things. But these were my things now, weren't they? The clothing and the jewelry were, at least, although I'd be happy to lend jewelry to Noriko or Hikaru, if they wanted any. I'd always wondered why it was called a training bra -- were you training your breasts somehow? But, as I struggled to put one on, I realized that the maneuver required a lot of practice. The day before, I'd been grateful that I hadn't been wearing a skirt. Now I stared at the dresses, and that sense of adventure and excitement came back to me. I selected a yellow cotton sleeveless sun dress, one that buttoned up the front, and got dressed. I added a necklace, and some plastic bracelets, and then stared at myself in the vanity mirror. After running a brush through my hair a few times, I wandered out, looking for the restroom. Breakfast was eggs over rice, which, I guess, showed the Japanese roots of this mostly Americanized family. I watched my new mother, freckles and all, serving her brown-skinned husband, all of 12 years old. The first thing on Mrs. Hasegawa's agenda was shopping. She had a house full of people, and only half of them owned any clothing to speak of. The entire family piled into a minivan, and we drove downtown, only to find that most of the stores were closed. People were still dealing with their own problems, it seemed. But, as we drove back home, we heard an announcement on the radio. They were asking people to bring any clothing they no longer needed down to the stadium. They were having the largest clothing swap meet ever -- bring in your old clothes, and find some that fit your new body. A straight-across trade. "Well," Mrs. Hasegawa said, "that sounds reasonable. We've got my old clothing, and grandmother's, that we no longer need. But we have very little for Noriko or Hikaru to wear. Not to mention Mr. Hasegawa." We stopped at MacDonald's for lunch. It tasted far better than I could remember from my past. Then we headed home to gather up old clothing. I sat on the porch swing with Noriko, enjoying the summer day. When I glanced down the street, I saw a blonde girl in roller skates coming our way. "Hey, Jeremy!" I called out. The girl rolled up to me and grimaced. "You're not allowed to call me Jeremy anymore," she said. "My new name is Jennifer." "Well, that's a pretty name." She flopped down on the lawn. "I hate it," she said, but without a lot of feeling. She was wearing black knit shorts and a dark blue blouse, which had an elastic gathering across the chest, with a square-cut neckline, puffed sleeves, and white lace trim. The body hung loose and billowed about her waist like a dress. "Mom made me wear this," she said with a grimace. "Girl's stuff. Yuck." "So where's Jason?" Noriko asked. "I don't know. Doing stuff with his parents, I guess." "We're going down to the clothing swap at the stadium," I said. "Did you hear about it?" "Yeah," she said. "I don't really need the clothes, 'though. Susan brought me all of her old stuff this morning. She's sixteen now, and none of it fits her, but it's all frilly dresses and skirts and stuff. I wanted to take the skirts and stuff to the swap, but mom won't let me." I smiled a little at that. "Your mom didn't change at all, did she? What about your dad and sister? Did you find them?" "Yeah, they're both at home now. Dad's turned into his secretary, who was just back from maternity leave. He's still black, but he's only twenty-three years old, and the really weird part is that he can breast-feed a baby! He's already promised to keep breast-feeding his secretary's baby -- she's a man now -- so she and her baby are going to live with us. His baby. Whatever. And then, my sister is only a year old, now, so dad's breast- feeding her. It's too weird. My family's all messed up, but both mom and dad say they're going to stay together and see it through. So I guess I got two moms now. Weird, huh? But one good thing is, since Dad's home watching those two kids, Mom can't get any funny ideas about having me babysit them, and change their diapers, or anything stupid. That would really suck." Mother Hasegawa appeared on the porch with a box of clothing in her hand. "Oh, Jeremy!" she said. "How are you doing today?" "Okay," she said, "but my name's Jennifer now." "What a lovely name! We're going down to the stadium clothing swap, do you want to come?" The blonde girl shrugged her shoulders. "Sure, I guess," she said. "I don't got anything better to do." *** Clouds rolled in, and a light rain started fall as we piled into the van. The sudden change in weather seemed to affect my mood. I leaned my face against the window, feeling suddenly overwhelmed, and just stared out the water-streaked glass as we drove. I wondered if this strange dream was ever going to end. The swap meet was amazing. There was a massive crush of people, all talking about who they'd been and what it had been like to wake up in someone else's body. There were piles of clothing heaped onto tables, sorted roughly by sex and size and type. There were a whole lot of changing booths, nothing more than sheets draped over laundry rope, all hastily arranged but serviceable. There were popcorn and hotdog vendors, not to mention soft drinks, ice cream, cotton candy, and espresso stands. The crowd noise was deafening. I saw a reporter with a camera man doing interviews. Nothing stops the news, I guess. Loudspeakers blared rock and roll, frequently interrupted for important announcements. I walked past an old man in the corner playing a hurdy-gurdy, of all things. I suppose he was one of the lucky ones who didn't switch. Then again, maybe he would have been as happy as I was to be twelve again. Two hours later, we were still selecting clothing for Noriko, Hikaru, and Mother Hasegawa. "I don't want any dresses," Noriko said, staring had her reflection in obvious distaste. She picked at the hem of the frilled yellow pinafore like one might pick a dead rat our of the road. "I don't like dresses," she said. "Especially ones with frills and ruffles and lace and stuff." Mother Hasegawa frowned. "What kind of girl wears pants all the time?" she asked. "The kind that was a grown man only one fucking day ago," Noriko retorted. "Noriko! Such strong language is not suitable for such a little girl," Mrs. Hasegawa said. "What did I tell you about curbing your tongue? I need you to be proper and respectful. You're not a grown man any more." The truth was, we'd already selected several pairs of girl's pants and shorts for Noriko. Mrs. Hasegawa had been very understanding and conciliatory, under the circumstances, but it was simply unthinkable to her that a girl would have more pants than dresses, or more shorts than skirts. If we were her daughters, then we would be prim and proper young girls and that was all there was to it. Hikaru was equally annoyed, examining the pink jumper she wore. "Mom, I look like a dork," she complained. "You watch your language too, missy," her mother snapped. "You look perfectly fine for a young girl." Jennifer giggled, and I couldn't help by smile myself. "What are you two laughing at?" she snapped, looking at Jennifer and I. "Your turn is coming next, you know." "But we don't need new clothes," I replied. "I've got all of Kiyomi's outfits, and Jen has all of Susan's clothing." "That may be," Mrs. Hasegawa said, "but as long as we're here, we might as well look. It won't hurt either of you to take something else home. I'm sure Jen's mother won't mind one bit." After selecting at least two dozen outfits for Hikaru and Noriko, Mother Hasegawa began sorting through clothing several sizes larger. She handed a blue dress to me, and a yellow one to Jennifer. She hustled us into one of the changing booths and said, "Put those on, and then show me how you look." "You want us to change in the same booth?" Jennifer asked. "You're both girls, and you're the same age," she said. "What's the problem?" Jennifer looked into my eyes, and I returned the look. "I've never undressed in front of a girl before," she said. "Before last night, I would've said the same thing. But it's no big deal, really." Jennifer blushed. "Well," she said, "I guess since we're both girls now, it's okay." I unbuttoned my dress and let it slide to the floor, while Jennifer dropped her shorts and pulled her top over her head. We both stood there for a moment, two flat- chested girls wearing nothing but socks, shoes, and underwear. "Nice panties," she said with a smirk. "Same to you," I retorted. "Nice training bra, too." She giggled, and began to wriggle her way into the yellow dress. "This is too weird," she said. She settled the dress around herself, pulled her long blonde hair free, and turned around. "Button me up?" she asked. "Sure," I said. "What are girlfriends for, anyway?" "Never thought I'd be anyone's girlfriend," she muttered. "Can't believe I'm wearing this thing, either." I slid my own dress on and let her zip me up, and we stepped out of the booth for inspection. "Well," Mrs. Hasegawa said, "you both look very nice! I think those will do. Now," she held up another dress, "I found this dress as well. Isn't it darling? Almost like a pinafore." I stared at it, and shrugged. "I guess. I don't really know a pinafore from a four-pin," I said. Mrs. Hasegawa laughed, and handed it to me. "It's really amazing to think that you've lived 97 years, but you don't really know about women's clothing." "I was never a woman before." "That's no longer an excuse," she said. "Can you tell me what an end-around is? A screen pass? A safety?" Mrs. Hasegawa laughed. "Touche'. If I'd been switched into a baseball player's body..." "Football," I interrupted. "Yes, a football player's body then, I guess I'd have to know those things, but I wasn't and I don't. You, however, are a girl now, so you'll need to learn about being a woman. Remember, Kiyomi, you're the oldest of the girls. You need to set an example for your two younger sisters, now." Great. I, the former Olaf Gunderson, was to become a shining example of girlhood. *** "Are you going to our school?" Jennifer asked on the way home. "School?" I hadn't thought about it a lot, truth to tell, but I remembered my conversation with Mrs. Hasegawa last night. I hadn't been in school since... well, I'd dropped out of high school to join the army, and I'd never gone back. I guess that made it about eighty years, all told. "Yeah," I said, suddenly. "I think I will. School sounds like a really good idea, all of a sudden." "Cool," Jennifer said. "We can be friends then. You're pretty cool, Kiyomi. Cooler than the old Kiyomi was, even." "You really think so?" "You bet! The only thing is, they've got uniforms at our school, you know, so girls gotta wear plaid skirts." "Bet you're looking forward to that, huh?" She made a face. "I won't mind if you won't," she said. I laughed. "No problem, then." In any case, school was cancelled for the week, to give people time to sort their lives out. I had time to think things through, before I made my final decision, on both school and living as the Hasegawa's daughter. In the meantime, I spent the next two days with Jason, Jennifer, and Makato, learning how to skate. Hikaru thought skating was stupid, but Noriko wanted to skate with us. Mother Hasegawa bought her some child's skates, but she had a hard time of it. Despite her college-student mind, she still had the coordination of a first grader, and couldn't keep up with the rest of us. This frustrated her, and she would cry. I guess the hormones of a six-year-old can overwhelm you at times, and I felt sorry for her. Getting stuck as a little kid was more of a raw deal than I'd been given. I guess wound up feeling very protective of her. Father Hasegawa had a set of business suits tailor- made to fit his young frame. Apparently, tailoring business suits to children's sizes was suddenly a very big business. By the fourth day, I was starting to adjust, to feel comfortable not only in this body, but with my new life. I wanted the Hasegawa's to adopt me -- I'd be happy to be their daughter. It was true that being a child meant having no power, and having to obey others, but I hadn't been in control of my life for years, and the tradeoff was that I had few worries, and a great deal of freedom. How many adults get to rollerskate around the neighborhood all day, with nothing to do except to do nothing? In the evening, I sat on the porch with Grandfather Hasegawa. I'd found him to be an amazingly resourceful and dignified man, especially considering who he'd been. He'd done a great deal to help his son and daughter around the house. No job was beneath him, and he always seemed to be in a good mood. "What's it like to be your own son, now?" I asked. He looked somewhat embarrassed, and looked off into the distance. He was silent for a long time, and I thought he would never answer, but then her said, "It's different. I'm bigger, and stronger. I'm 25 years younger, and I'm a man." He looked at me, and his eyes seemed to smile. "This is the most exciting thing to happen to me in thirty years!" he said. I smiled back. "I know what you mean. I was 97, you know." "So I heard. Very strange, isn't it? But you know, I think my ancestors are looking over me and my family. I think they arranged it so that I could help hold the family together, despite everything that's happened. "I'm just glad that my son didn't wind up in my old body. I feel sorry for the poor man who's trapped in there now." *** On the fifth day, I got to meet my family. What was left of them, at any rate. It wasn't really a time for celebration -- it was, in fact, my son's funeral. My new family attended with me, much to the chagrin of Hikaru, who, like me, wore a formal black dress. I could feel the slick fabric of the slip between the dress and my skin, and the black tights stretched over my legs. Hikaru hated it, but I got a little thrill from the feel of the feminine clothing. I didn't recognize anyone, and not just because I hadn't seen them in years. Everyone was different now. When I met my granddaughter's husband, now a beautiful auburn-haired woman, we both stared at each other. Beside he