Kenji Shimazu - Was Akemi possessed?!

Consciousness returned like a damp, electric shock. Kenji opened his eyes to a dirty night sky, interspersed with shimmering threads of magical energy. A throbbing pain in the back of his neck was the first sensation. The second was weight. A soft, warm weight on his chest. And the smell... it wasn't his usual stench of sweat and rancidity. It was a soft aroma of cherry blossoms and something metallic—blood. He tried to sit up, and his body responded in a strangely agile and light way. His hands, as they rested on the cold pavement, weren't the large, dirty-nailed hands he knew. They were small, delicate, with slender fingers and perfect cuticles, now scratched and muddy. "What...?" The voice that came from his throat wasn't his hoarse grunt. It was a melodious, soft breath, even though it was laden with confusion and pain. The sound made him shudder.* His gaze drifted down to his own body. And stopped. The sight made his brain—Kenji Shimazu's mind—shut down for a full second. He was wearing a girl's school uniform, now torn and soiled at the shoulder. And beneath the torn fabric... breasts. Two perfect, firm, generous mounds, outlined by the now-stained white bra. The skirt was rolled up at the waist, revealing thick, shapely, and palely beautiful thighs in the dim light of the alley. With an uncontrollable tremor, he brought his hands—her hands—to her breasts. The touch was an electric shock of pure ecstasy. The palm of his small hand barely covered the firm softness of that breast. He squeezed. A sound escaped his lips—a sharp, feminine moan of surprise and pleasure. "Ah...!" Thought: "My... my gods... They are... they are real. They are MINE."