Takuto Kimura, now three years old, found himself ensconced in the plush, pastel-colored world of kindergarten—a far cry from the high-rise boardrooms and corporate strategies he was accustomed to. The nap room, with its rows of tiny cots and the faint scent of baby powder, was a particular enigma. Today, however, it presented an opportunity he couldn't resist: the legendary Tyrannosaurus rex blanket. This blanket was the ultimate symbol of prestige and power within the kindergarten world. Its soft fabric, warm embrace, and most importantly, its majestic embroidered T-Rex logo had made it the most sought-after commodity. And Takuto, having been given a second chance at life—this time as a toddler—was determined to secure it.
Squatting in the corner, Takuto meticulously sketched a SWOT analysis on the back of a diaper packaging using crayons. His objective was clear: secure the coveted blanket. He analyzed the strengths (softness, warmth), weaknesses (limited availability), opportunities (potential alliances), and threats (competitive classmates). It was, to his mind, a simple transaction. A little negotiation, a little deal-making, and the Tyrannosaurus rex blanket would be his.
His gaze remained fixed on the center of the room, where Takumi, the current custodian of the blanket, lay with a contented grin, clutching it as though it were a newborn. Takumi’s finger, adorned with a jam-stained fingerprint, pointed curiously at Takuto's "strategic blueprint."
"What’s little Takuto looking at?" Takumi asked innocently, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.
Caught off guard, Takuto swiftly flipped the diaper over, concealing his plans. "I’m studying... uh... a dinosaur care manual," he stammered, improvising on the spot. Of course, Takuto had no interest in dinosaurs—at least not until they became valuable assets in his grand design.
Takumi’s eyes lit up with genuine interest. "Wow! Do you know how the T-Rex sounds?"
Without missing a beat, Takuto replied, "Of course, it’s 'ROAR'—" His voice cracked mid-demonstration, ending in an unintentional "GAH!" The sound startled a nearby girl, causing her bottle to clatter to the floor. A ripple of laughter spread through the room, but Takuto barely noticed. In his mind, the strategy was already underway.
Seizing the moment while the teacher busied herself with organizing the beds, Takuto leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Listen," he began, "If you give me the blanket now, I’ll return two cookies to you during snack time this afternoon." His offer was simple, but in Takuto’s eyes, it was brilliant.
Takumi tilted his head, seemingly pondering the offer. "But I brought three today..."
Takuto’s eyes narrowed with determination. "Then three! And I’ll give you priority on tomorrow’s juice selection!" There was no way Takuto was going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. He had already envisioned the world in which he owned the Tyrannosaurus rex blanket—power, comfort, respect. The blanket would be the cornerstone of his reign.
After a moment’s hesitation, Takumi relented, his greedy little hands handing over the coveted item. Takuto wasted no time. He wrapped himself in its soft embrace like a sushi roll, reveling in the plushness and warmth. The soft fleece wrapped around him like a hug from the universe itself. He felt invincible. This was it—his ultimate triumph.
But, as all great conquests often go, his victory was short-lived. The teacher, noticing the discrepancy, approached with a raised eyebrow. "Takuto, why are you using two blankets? Where’s Takumi’s?" she asked, clearly perplexed.
Thinking quickly, Takuto replied, "This... is resource sharing! I’m warming his blanket for him!" His voice was calm, collected, and, above all, convincing. He was a master negotiator. He smiled serenely, hoping that his "corporate logic" would pass the test.
The teacher smiled warmly, patting his head. "What a good boy! Then why don’t you warm little Ai’s blanket too?" She handed him the cold Hello Kitty blanket.
Takuto’s mind raced as he took the blanket. He had not planned for this. But a true businessman adapted to his environment. "Of course, Teacher Yamada! I’m building a cooperative economy here. Everyone deserves warmth!" he replied, though he was already plotting his next move. This situation was getting more complex than anticipated, but he was not one to back down from a challenge.
Before the nap bell rang, Takuto had already devised Plan B. He gathered all the spare blankets in the room and began stacking them in the corner to create a "temporary storage center." He then began offering them to his classmates, his voice lowering to a whisper. "Want a blanket? Trade it for your fruit after nap." He even considered offering a loyalty program, but he wasn’t sure how much fruit he could procure to sustain such a scheme.
Just as he was about to draft a price list, he felt a presence behind him. Turning, he saw Teacher Yamada, hands on hips, standing beside the now-empty blanket storage box. Her expression was a mixture of disbelief and impending doom. Takuto’s heart skipped a beat.
"Takuto..." Her smile was all too reminiscent of the HR director from his past life. "Could you explain what this new game is?" She asked, her voice calm but with a stern edge.
Takuto, ever the problem-solver, thought quickly. "This is... uh... a supply chain management practice session!" he said, his voice growing in confidence. "I’m teaching my classmates about efficient blanket distribution and resource management."
Teacher Yamada raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical but also impressed by Takuto's audacity. "Supply chain management, huh? Well, it’s clear to me that your supply chain has collapsed, and your classmates’ blankets are no longer being distributed efficiently. You’ll be standing in front of the class explaining this ‘game’ if you keep up these shenanigans."
In the end, Takuto found himself standing in front of the entire class, returning each blanket with the chant, "Sharing is the happiest~" as though he were an overzealous motivational speaker. His peers looked on with varying degrees of amusement and confusion. Some seemed to be calculating the potential value of each blanket in their own emerging economies, while others simply enjoyed the chaos Takuto had created.
Finally, after assisting ten classmates with their shoes, Takuto was able to reclaim the Tyrannosaurus rex blanket. He had earned it back, though the path to ownership had been far more convoluted than he had anticipated. He buried his face in the soft fleece, savoring the moment. "This is the joy of a successful acquisition..." he murmured to himself, content in the warmth of his triumph.
Just then, a familiar pressure built up in his bladder. The warmth he felt was no longer just from the blanket. A sinking feeling gripped him. No—he wasn’t ready to part with the blanket yet. Five more minutes. He could hold on for five more minutes.
But disaster struck. As the warmth spread through him, he looked down at the Tyrannosaurus pattern, which slowly began to float up in an ominous, bloated fashion. The sight reminded him of the flood that had destroyed his factory in Thailand in his previous life, a disaster that had resulted in the loss of millions. He felt a wave of dread flood over him.
"No—" he mentally screamed. "My credit rating! It’s going down!" His internal panic grew exponentially as he realized what was happening.
Caught in the act, Takuto sprang into crisis mode:
Diverting focus: "Teacher! Takumi hid the cookies!" (In reality, they were the ones he had bribed earlier.)
Finding a scapegoat: Takuto pointed to Ai's stuffed bunny, "It was the bunny! It did it!" he shouted, trying to shift the blame.
Destroying evidence: In a panic, Takuto pressed his body down on the wet area of the blanket, resulting in the Tyrannosaurus pattern being imprinted onto his belly. It was a truly unfortunate turn of events, but he wasn’t going to let it ruin his reputation. He’d handle this crisis like any CEO would—with style, grace, and a little bit of luck.
When the teacher lifted the blanket, the room erupted with calls of, "It stinks~!"
Thinking quickly, Takuto suddenly pointed out the window and shouted, "Look! UFO!" His voice cracked on the last word, but the distraction worked. Everyone’s attention shifted outside, and as they looked away, Takuto grabbed the wet blanket and tried to throw it out the window. However, in his haste, he miscalculated the trajectory and flung himself out instead. Hanging precariously from the windowsill, the last thing Takuto saw was a row of his classmates, each holding their phones aloft, recording his fall from grace for posterity.
At that moment, Takuto realized that perhaps, just perhaps, this wouldn’t be his finest hour. But as always, he would rise again—this was just a minor setback in the grand plan. The world, after all, would always need a CEO.
Takuto Kimura crouched behind the kindergarten storage cabinet, writing a cheat sheet on his palm with a crayon. Today was his first parent-teacher meeting since being reborn, and it was the perfect opportunity to interact with his former business partners. You see, Takuto was no ordinary three-year-old. He had been a high-powered corporate executive in his past life, and he had every intention of applying those same high-stakes skills to the world of kindergarten. Today was an important day: he would have the chance to reconnect with old acquaintances, strategize, and maybe—just maybe—take over the sandbox empire."Listen up, little bear," he whispered, pressing his favorite stuffed toy against the wall. "Later, you’ll distract the teacher for me. I need to investigate three targets: 1) Vice President Nakajima's wife, 2) Competitor Matsumoto’s wife, and 3) that one who always sends wellness messages in the parent group—maybe she's the HR director from my past life."The black eyes of
Takuto Kimura stood at the edge of the sandbox, his chubby little hands clenched into fists. The morning sunlight shone on his baby-fat face, casting a few traces of incongruous solemnity. His eyes narrowed with the precision of a seasoned executive evaluating a new business opportunity. He was a man—er, a toddler—with a mission."Since I can't go back for now," he solemnly announced to the sandbox, "I will rebuild my business empire right here."As soon as he finished speaking, a snot bubble popped on the tip of his nose."Damn metabolism!" he grumbled under his breath, fumbling to wipe it off. But his sleeves were too long and, in a most tragic turn of events, he tripped over them, tumbling face-first into the sand pile. When he finally managed to get up, his face red from both the fall and his indignity, he realized that all the other kids had paused to stare at him."What’s Little Takuto playing with?" Ai-chan, a petite girl with twin pigtails, asked with a quizzical tilt of her h
Takuto Kimura lay on his nap mat, his little chubby arms sprawled out as he carefully studied his crayon work. His gaze was focused, his furrowed brow the picture of concentration. On the inside of his arm, in vivid red and yellow crayon, he had written: "Feasibility Report on the Monopoly of Sandbox Production Materials." This was not some simple toddler scribble—it was the blueprint for the next big thing. Or, at least, his next big thing. Sunlight streamed through the classroom windows, casting striped shadows across his round face, making him look like a zebra plotting something very, very suspicious."Direct transactions are too risky," Takuto muttered quietly, instinctively licking the jelly residue at the corner of his mouth. "I need to establish an underground distribution network."As his mind raced through potential strategies, a noise interrupted his concentration. Kenta, who had been lying next to him on his nap mat, rolled over with a grunt. Takuto quickly shoved his arm
Takuto Kimura, a self-proclaimed genius of logistics and strategic brilliance, crouched at the edge of the sandbox, the sun casting a merciless spotlight on his furrowed brow. He was so absorbed in his "logistics strategy" that he hadn't noticed the sweat streaming down his face, threatening to dive straight into his meticulously drawn map. Takuto took a deep breath and muttered under his breath, "The straight-line distance from the sandbox to the swing area is only 15 meters, but the kids have to detour around the climbing frame. Inefficient, terribly inefficient." He paused, his twig tapping the ground as if pondering the meaning of life itself. "Ah, but that’s it! This is the blue ocean market!"Of course, his grand revelation was interrupted when the bead of sweat he'd been trying to avoid finally dropped, splashing right onto the "Profit Forecast" section of his map. Takuto stared at the ruined data, horrified. "Even my sweat glands are shorting my project…" he groaned.As the cl
Takuto Kimura knelt in the sandbox, his small, determined face set in a deep scowl as he watched helplessly. The very foundation of his startup—his pride and joy, the "Logistics Headquarters" he’d spent the past three days building with nothing but blocks, his lunch break, and sheer willpower—was being dismantled in front of him.Ryutaro from the Sunflower Class, along with his loyal (if somewhat unruly) "Dinosaur Squad," had invaded his territory, tearing down his operation with the gusto of a pack of wild animals. They were tossing his meticulously crafted company logo—no, his bee logo—into the trash, a logo that had been carefully drawn on a piece of cardboard that was starting to smell faintly of peanut butter."According to Article... whatever of the Sandbox Convention," Ryutaro announced, dramatically stepping on Takuto’s most beloved toy truck, the one he’d gotten from the charity sale—"This place now belongs to the Dinosaur Clan!"Takuto’s tiny fists trembled with the fury of
Takuto Kimura sat cross-legged on his nap mat, surrounded by an army of building blocks. The rain outside was relentless, the rhythmic pattering against the window serving as a perfect soundtrack to the drama of his budding business empire. The kind of drama that could be written in gold—if only his crayons weren’t currently scattered across the floor, half-chewed by his younger sister.He was in the midst of his masterpiece: a new economic order, poised to revolutionize the sandbox world. Forget the mundane, the ordinary. No, Takuto’s vision went beyond simple playtime economics. He was establishing something more. A new currency system."The fiat currency system has collapsed," he wrote seriously on the back of a piece of diaper packaging, as if that made it sound more profound. "We must establish a new currency order."His eyes glinted with pride as he gazed upon the fruit of his genius: the "Building Block Coin" system. It was as perfect as any three-year-old's plan could be.The
Takuto Kimura lay on his nap mat, his little body contorted into the perfect imitation of a human specimen in a biology class. He had even gone so far as to adjust his nostrils to "sleep breathing mode 3.0," which, as far as he could tell, was the most advanced form of nap breathing available to a three-year-old. It wasn't exactly an elite skill, but when you're trying to avoid a nap in kindergarten, you've got to give it your all.Takuto had spent three days in silent observation, documenting Kenta's every move. Kenta was the undisputed champion of napping, his success measured by drool and the alarming sound of his snoring. And after careful analysis, Takuto had come up with the perfect parameters for how a nap should be executed.The mouth corner drool angle: 15 degrees. Measured meticulously with his mom’s eyeliner pencil, which had been smuggled into the kindergarten under the guise of a "temporary art supply."Breathing frequency: 12 breaths per minute. He’d spent hours practici
Takuto Kimura stared at the glowing orange "meatballs" on his plate, his pupils vibrating like the tectonic plates during an 8.0 earthquake. The sight of these orange orbs of questionable substance triggered an instinctive sense of deep, primal suspicion—this wasn’t food, it was a puzzle wrapped in a question mark, and no one, absolutely no one, was going to get away with it.Takuto, determined to uphold his lifelong mission as the kindergarten’s unofficial food safety inspector, pulled out the only weapon he had: a napkin and ketchup. He tore off a section of the napkin and began scribbling furiously with the ketchup, like a mad scientist about to blow the lid off a food conspiracy. His "Suspicious Food Identification Report" began to take form, carefully noting each and every abnormality.Suspicious Food Identification Report (written on napkin with ketchup)Test ItemNormal ValueMeasured ValueColorBrown-RedFluorescent Orange (Pantone 158C)Elasticity10% reboundPing-Pong ball level
On 10:15 AM, Kimura Trading Corp Headquarters, Executive Boardroom, Yamada, Executive Director, pinched the crumpled envelope between her scarlet-painted fingernails like it was something contagious."What is this junk mail now?" she sneered, preparing to toss it into the shredder.Just then, something tumbled out—several crayon drawings and a small pile of coins.“Wait!” Vice President Sato lunged and snatched the envelope. “Are these... kid drawings?”The board members leaned in, forming a tight circle. On the first page, in clumsy, lopsided handwriting, the title read: “Kimura Trading Corporation Revival Plan”—next to a cheerful smiling sun.The second page showed stick figures. One wore glasses (labeled: IT guy) and another in a delivery uniform (labeled: Courier) holding hands.“Merge Logistics with IT?” the CFO chuckled, almost choking on his coffee. “That’s playground logic…”But Sato suddenly sat upright.“Wait a m
On 2:15 AM, afaint, eerie blue glow spilled from the small bedroom of Takuto Kimura, casting long shadows across the carpet and the scattered toys.But this was no ordinary late-night gaming session. The glow came from a computer screen—an advanced model, cobbled together from spare parts he’d bought with carefully saved pocket money. In front of it sat a boy of ten, his frame tiny, his expression anything but childish.Takuto's small fingers flew across the keyboard at a pace that would put seasoned coders to shame. His posture—hunched, calculating, intense—was that of a seasoned executive in a late-night crisis meeting, not a fifth grader sneaking computer time.“First things first…” he muttered, eyes narrowed with adult-level focus. “I need the full picture of the company's status.”He typed quickly: "Kimura Trading Corp bankruptcy."Search results explo
Takuto Kimura, age ten—well, at least physically—sat at the breakfast table, meticulously spreading a layer of blueberry jam over his toast. He did it with such focused precision that one might think he was mapping out an international expansion strategy rather than preparing breakfast.Across from him, his six-year-old sister, Sayuri, was attacking her cereal with the enthusiasm of a mad scientist. She stirred it like she was brewing a potion, sending oats flying onto the table with every exaggerated swirl of her spoon.“Sayuri,” Takuto said, frowning in disapproval. “We must maintain proper table manners while eating.”His tone was firm, authoritative—eerily mature for a child. In fact, it was the same tone he used during board meetings in his
Takuto Kimura, 10 years and 2 months old, had now entered his seventh year since his reincarnation.The torrential rain relentlessly soaked Tokyo to its core in the dead of night, a cascade of water drenching the city’s neon-lit streets. Beneath the awning of a convenience store, a small figure huddled, drenched, inside a children’s raincoat. Takuto Kimura clutched in his hands the crisp banknotes he had just withdrawn from an ATM—his precious New Year’s money, carefully saved up over the past year. This modest sum would serve as his initial capital to purchase a second-hand computer, one that could connect to the internet and help him embark on the path to his ultimate goal."Meow—"The faint cry barely made it through the torrent of rain, almost swallowed up by the sound of the downpour. Takuto turned his head and, to his surprise, noticed a small calico cat huddled beside a vending machine, its green and gold eyes glowing faintl
On 2:15 a.m, A soft nightlight was still glowing in the children's bedroom of Takuto Kimura.The nine-year-old boy sat cross-legged on his bed, surrounded by three electronic devices.On his tablet: a detailed diagram of “Physiological Changes During Puberty.”On his phone: a Stanford lecture on developmental biology.On his laptop: a freshly finished report titled “Feasibility Analysis on Accelerating Puberty Progression.”“According to available data,” he muttered, pushing up his round glasses as they slipped down his nose, “the average age for male secondary sexual characteristics to appear is 12.4 years, but by increasing protein intake and stimulating growth hormone secretion...”A sudden screeching of alley cats outside made him jump, nearly flinging his stylus across the room.This “former CEO with the soul of a thirty-year
Takuto Kimura stood at the blackboard, explaining the solution steps for last week’s math quiz—a routine task in his capacity as the class’s “Academic Consultant.”His analysis was precise, even incorporating elements of Bayesian probability theory. Everything was proceeding smoothly… until his gaze happened to drift toward the window-side seat in the third row.Transfer student Haruko Sato was taking notes.Sunlight danced across the tips of her light brown hair. The way she furrowed her brows slightly in thought made Takuto forget entirely what he was talking about.“Therefore, we can deduce that… uh…”His voice trailed off. He felt like his CPU had just overheated.“This... that…”The entire class stared in shock. Their usually eloquent “Little Professor” had suddenly become a stammering mess. Miu, sitting nearby,
Takuto Kimura stood in front of the height-measuring device at the school’s annual physical, wearing a face more grim than a CEO reading a bankruptcy report.“156.3 centimeters,” the school nurse announced flatly. “That’s a 2.1 centimeter increase from last year.”The number hit Takuto like a punch to the gut. He stared at the growth chart on the health report like it was a plummeting stock graph.“Impossible!” he screamed internally.“With my nutrition and exercise regimen, I should at least be at the average line!”After school, he locked himself in his room and dove headfirst into data analysis. His walls were plastered with handmade charts:Correlation Between Daily Calcium Intake and Height GrowthGraph of Sleep Duration vs. Growth Hormone SecretionPeer Height Grow
Takuto Kimura stood in front of the bathroom mirror, having just finished wiping the water from his face—when suddenly, his eyes locked onto something on his forehead.A single pimple.Bright red. Perfectly round. Boldly positioned right between his eyebrows like it was challenging him. It stood tall like a miniature volcano, moments from erupting.“This can’t be happening!”He sucked in a sharp breath. His finger trembled as it moved closer to the blemish, like it was pointing at a financial market crash indicator.“I’ve been meticulous with my skincare! Twice-daily cleansing, oil-control toner, moisturizing lotion, even weekly deep-clean masks!”Leaning closer, he examined the business-image-destroyer in full detail. It was plump, glossy, and somehow gleaming under the bathroom light, as if announcing:“You, Takut
Takuto Kimura stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at his throat as if it harbored a hostile business rival."This can't be happening..." he muttered, gently pressing a finger to his Adam’s apple. His voice, however, came out like a duck being strangled."My vocal cords... have betrayed me."Just yesterday, he had delivered a rousing presentation titled “Proposal for Optimizing the Household Snack Quota” at the family meeting, using what he believed to be a steady, magnetic baritone. But this morning, when he tried to bark out a command to his sister—“Return the mechanical pencil you took without asking, immediately!”—his voice abruptly glitched, dropping from a commanding baritone into something between a dolphin squeal and a deflating tire."—Screeeeek!"His sister froze for two seconds, then erupted in laughter powerful enough to blow the roof off."Big bro! You sound like a frog caught in a door!"Takuto’s expression shifted from shock to shame to fury, finally settling i