To prepare for an emergency rate-hike meeting, Takuto Kimura had constructed an entire financial system using LEGO:--A main trading hall made from red bricks--An electronic display board crafted from shiny silver candy wrappers--Individual trader stations, each minifigure equipped with a miniature calculatorTakuto ushered all the LEGO central bank “committee members” into the meeting chamber using a LEGO police car. The meeting room—a circular hall built from multicolored blocks—was the centerpiece of his "Tokyo Stock Exchange 2.0," a project that had taken three full weekends to build and now occupied two-thirds of his bedroom. Even his beloved dinosaur plushies had been exiled to the closet for the time being.“Committee members,” Takuto intoned in a deliberately deep voice, pushing up the wire-rimmed glasses he had made himself, “we are now convening an emergency monetary policy meeting.”He had even put on one of his father’s old ties for the occasion. It trailed on the floor
When the first ray of morning sunlight peeked through the curtain, Takuto Kimura’s LEGO financial empire was at its peak.In the middle of his bedroom stood a proud 4-square-meter replica of the Tokyo Stock Exchange. The glowing “electronic trading board” (scribbled with highlighters) blinked above the floor. Twelve LEGO minifigures, all dressed in tiny suits he had hand-cut from old socks and paper, stood neatly in formation on the “trading floor.”“The Nikkei opens up 0.8% today,” Takuto announced in a voice deepened by puberty—or at least his best attempt. Adjusting his imaginary glasses, he carefully shifted a red LEGO block representing Toyota stock. “Toyota has broken through the ¥8,000 mark. Commence block trade…”Suddenly, the door slammed open.“Onii-chan! Play house with me!”Five-year-old Mei Kimura burst in, clutching her one-eyed teddy bear. Her little feet stomped straight into the banking sector, smashing a section of clear bricks.“Don’t move! That’s the Bank of Japan’
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
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 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 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,
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, 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
Takuto Kimura, Age 10,Former Corporate Shark, Current Elementary Schooler. Current old soul trapped in a child's body.He walked steadily toward his shoe locker, hands behind his back like he was strolling into a board meeting.Today, he was in an excellent mood.Last night, he’d secretly upgraded his computer using the salary from his new gig as a "child business consultant." Now, the machine's processing power was enough to breach the firewalls of most mid-tier corporations— Not that he would, of course. It was strictly for "academic purposes," like monitoring Kimura Corp's stock prices or occasionally helping his elderly neighbor optimize his pension portfolio."Another day, another chance to control the board," he muttered to himself, pushing up imaginary glasses. (His mom had banned him from wearing non-prescription frames at school.)He opened his shoe locker—Thud.A letter, sealed with a
On 7:00 PM, dinner at the Kimura Household, the scent of fried chicken filled the house. The last plate had just been placed on the table, and Takuto Kimura was reaching for a golden nugget of crispy bliss when—Ding dong."I’ll get it!" chirped his little sister, Sakuya, skipping toward the door.Takuto chomped down on his chicken, assuming it was a delivery or maybe a door-to-door salesman. Nothing important.Until—“Excuse me. Is Takuto Kimura home?”Clatter.His chopsticks fell to the floor.That voice... Deep, composed, with just a hint of tension—it could only be one person.Sato, the Board Secretary.No way.He slowly turned his head. At the doorway stood two men in tailored suits. One of them held a very familiar object in his hand:A pink envelope.“We’re from Kimura Trading Corporation,” one of them said with a polite bow. “We’d like to consult with Takuto… on a business matter.
On 3:15 PM, Wednesday, Kimura Trading Corp HQ, Across the Street, While his classmates sweated it out in PE class, Takuto Kimura was holed up inside a convenience store, peering through the foggy window at the towering building across the street.His cartoon-covered baseball cap was pulled low over his eyes, and his little face carried a gravity that did not belong on a ten-year-old.“The third restructuring plan has to be delivered today,” he muttered, checking his kiddie smartwatch. “If not, that ridiculous layoff proposal will pass.”The shopkeeper, a kindly middle-aged woman, watched the small boy talking to himself with growing concern. “Hey, sweetie, you okay? Need help?”“N-no thanks!” Takuto jumped, holding up a juice box. “I'm… just practicing for my speech contest!”POP. The box exploded under pressure, showering him in strawberry juice.Ten minutes later, the store was filled with the sweet scent of fruit as a very stick
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,