When he was still playing Atobe Keigo, Kubota dreamed in shades of white and blue. Pale blue, off white, alternating colours on the walls as he stands in the middle of the empty room. He feels something in his grip and looks down to find a tennis racket in hand. He looks up again, the room is gone, he's on a tennis court, and the sky is blue, blue like the Hyotei jersey he wears, bright, bright like his smile, he who stands across him in the same shades of blue and white.
He wakes up, not remembering who stood across him.
When he was still Date Masamune, Kubota dreamed in shades of Crimson and Azure. Crimson of the blood, of a headband, Azure of the water behind their battlefield, of the overcoat surrounding him. He feels something in his hands, and looks down to see six swords in his hands, between his fingers. He looks up, and the battlefield is not longer empty, and he's not alone, has an army, and he has an army too, he is standing across him, twin spears crossed and all he can see is crimson, crimson, crimson.
He wakes up, a name on his lips that fades away as his eyes open.
Now, he doesn't play the arrogance of Atobe Keigo anymore, doesn't wield the claws of Date Masamune any longer. Now, he dreams of bright, happy smiles and sweet, twinkling laughter. He dreams of a warmth in his arms, of a hand intertwined in his, of a heat that pulses through him. He dreams in brown, brown like his hair, like his eyes, he who stands across him, no weapon, no equipment, no barrier separating them this time. His hand is held out, and that beautiful smile is there, so he reaches out to take it and his smile widens.
He wakes up, and Hosogai Kei is smiling down at him.