Dr Jackie & Mr Hideo

Chapter 1: Something's Missing

The disorientation hit me first. Then the realization that I wasn't in my own bed. And finally, the stark understanding that the face inches from mine wasn't a figment of a sleep-deprived imagination. Nope. I was staring at a face of a beautiful woman. Sounds like the start of a bad romance novel, right?

And before you start thinking I'm some kind of creep, let me clarify. The girl in question, Mona, is currently sprawled across the bed, her head resting on my bare chest. Which wouldn't be so strange, except this isn't my apartment. It's Mona's.

Now, I'm not usually the type to wake up in a stranger's bed. Okay, maybe "stranger" is a bit harsh. Mona's my lab assistant, and we've definitely shared some late-night study sessions fueled by lukewarm coffee and questionable takeout. But this... this feels different.

For one thing, Mona, without her usual square glasses and her black hair all over the place, looks like a completely different person. And I mean that in a good way. Like, a really good way.

I carefully lean away, trying not to wake her. Her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks, and I can't help but think... damn, she's actually really cute.

I brush a stray strand of hair from her face and gently kiss her forehead. It's a cheesy move, I know, but it feels... right. Like something I should do.

Just then, nature calls. I carefully extricate myself from Mona's sleeping embrace and stumble towards the bathroom.

Maybe "nature calls" wasn't the best way to phrase that. Because what nature was calling for was apparently a complete and utter biological impossibility.

As I pulled my boxer down, a wave of pure, unadulterated panic washed over me.

Something was missing. Something... vital.

My heart hammered against my ribs - or what I assumed were my ribs, considering the distinct lack of... well, you get the picture. I spun around, staring wildly at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

And that's when the real freak-out began.

Staring back at me was a woman around her mid 30s. Not just any woman, but me. Jackie. My usually tidy, neck-length bob was now a tangled mess, sticking out at odd angles, and my sleep-deprived eyes were even more bloodshot than usual. But the real shocker was... everything else.

Instead of the wide, muscular pecs I'd expected to wake up with, my bare chest was... well, distinctly feminine. Let's just say there was a reason I usually opted for oversized lab coats and turtlenecks.

My brain, usually a well-oiled machine of logic and scientific reasoning, sputtered and stalled like a rusty engine. This was impossible. I mean, literally impossible. One minute I was Hideo, the next I was... me. But how? Since when?

Those thoughts... those weren't mine either. At least, not Jackie's thoughts. They were more... Hideo-esque. Appreciating Mona's beauty, kissing her forehead... that wasn't me. That was him.

My head throbbed, a dull ache building behind my eyes. I gripped the edge of the sink, trying to steady myself. This had to be a dream. A really, really messed up dream.

Just as the existential dread threatened to engulf me whole, a rogue elbow knocked a half-empty bottle of shampoo off the edge of the bathtub. It clattered against the tile floor, the sound echoing through the small apartment.

"Hideo? Are you in there?" Mona's sleepy voice drifted in from the bedroom.

I swore under my breath. Or rather, Jackie swore. Hideo would have probably come up with something a little more... creative.

My eyes darted around the tiny bathroom, frantically searching for something, anything, that could help me disguise this... situation. A bathrobe? A towel?

Okay, even in my panicked state, I knew that was a dumb idea. But the rational part of my brain seemed to have taken a sudden vacation, leaving me with the intellectual equivalent of a hamster on a wheel.

I frantically scanned the shelves, my mind racing. Could I use a toothbrush to... No. A tube of toothpaste to... Definitely not. My gaze landed on a bottle of mouthwash. Maybe I could... I groaned inwardly. My brain was officially fried.

This was hopeless. I was back in a woman's body, in my lab assistant's apartment, and the only thing standing between me and utter humiliation was a flimsy bathroom door.

Silence. I stood frozen, hoping that maybe Mona would decide I was having some sort of... male bonding moment with the toilet and leave me to my existential crisis.

No such luck.

The doorknob rattled. "Hideo? Everything's alright?" Mona's voice was closer now, laced with concern.

My brain finally kicked into gear, albeit a gear that was several teeth short of a full set. I lunged for the shower, twisting the knob with a desperate urgency. The water roared to life, a deafening torrent that hopefully masked the frantic scramble of my thoughts.

"Yeah, all's good!" I called out, trying to channel the smooth, confident tone I'd heard Hideo use. The result was probably closer to a strangled squeak.

"Are you taking a bath?"

"Uh... yeah." My voice came out as a barely audible grumble. Mentally, I was kicking myself. Who takes a bath at 7:30 in the morning? Especially when they have a lecture in less than an hour. Oh, right. Hideo.

And then came the question that sent a fresh wave of panic crashing over me.

"Can I... join you?" Mona's voice was soft, hesitant, with a hint of... allure?

Oh, my sweet, sweet Ramona. My lab assistant who usually spends her days meticulously labeling petri dishes and diligently recording data in spreadsheets. Who would've thought you were such a... morning person?

My internal monologue, usually a bastion of scientific inquiry and logical deduction, devolved into a series of incoherent screams. This was officially a disaster of epic proportions. A disaster that involved nudity, mistaken identities, and a very confused lab assistant.

What had I gotten myself into? Or rather, what had Hideo gotten me into?

My mind raced, a chaotic jumble of scientific equations and panicked what-ifs. If only Hideo could control his... urges. If only I'd managed to secure that final batch of Soma flowers from that shady botanical smuggler in Nepal. If only I hadn't accidentally chugged that vial of experimental serum two months ago...

***