"Now, let's welcome today's little teacher—Takuto Kimura!"
As soon as Mr. Yamada's enthusiastic announcement filled the room, Takuto Kimura stood tall, chest puffed out with pride, and started his journey to the podium like a seasoned public speaker—until his shoelace betrayed him. With all the elegance of a stampeding elephant, Takuto tripped, flailed, and performed the age-old classic: the face-first, flat-on-the-floor spectacular tumble. The room fell silent for a split second, the kind of silence that only comes after a truly epic disaster.
"Great start," Takuto muttered to himself, pushing himself up and trying to salvage his dignity, "A CEO must be humble, right?"
He brushed himself off, but the damage was already done. Every single child in the room stared at him like a crowd at a live circus show. Even Mr. Yamada looked at him with a mixture of concern and disbelief. But what did Takuto Kimura do in the face of failure? He pushed forward. After all, he had been preparing for this moment his whole life. Today, he would lead. Today, he would revolutionize kindergarten.
He stepped to the podium, clutching his CEO Inauguration Equipment Checklist, which, of course, he had meticulously prepared the night before—though a bit hastily.
CEO Inauguration Equipment Checklist:
Custom microphone: Made from a yogurt box and a straw (and immediately malfunctioned by spraying him in the face with yogurt bacteria after the third sentence).
Business PPT: A carefully drawn pie chart, now covered with rhinestones by Aichan. ("This is how it should sparkle!")
Policy manifesto: Written on toilet paper (half of it eaten by Kenta as a snack during morning recess).
Takuto wiped yogurt off his face, straightened his "CEO" embroidered diaper, and cleared his throat.
"As the temporary CEO of this kindergarten," Takuto began with all the gravitas of a corporate magnate, "I hereby announce three major reforms!"
He paused dramatically, waiting for the crowd to hang on his every word.
Double snack time! (The room erupted in applause. If this was corporate America, Takuto had just made his first billion.)
Toys distributed by labor! (Ryuutarou, the kid with an affinity for teeth-baring, narrowed his eyes in response, clearly unimpressed.)
Nap time made voluntary! (Mr. Yamada silently pulled out a ruler, probably preparing to execute some form of correction on this radical movement.)
But before anyone could even process these bold policies, the classroom descended into pure chaos.
Kenta, taking advantage of the new snack policy, had already eaten the entire stockpile of snacks, clearly in an effort to "advance his snack time." Aichan's faction was busy chanting "Princess First!" while Ryuutarou's Tyrannosaurus toy had somehow latched onto Takuto's rear end, biting down with the kind of ferocity that only a plastic dinosaur could muster.
Takuto sighed deeply. This is harder to control than a shareholder meeting! he thought desperately.
The Great Division of Kindergarten Factions:
Less than thirty minutes later, the kindergarten had split into three major factions, each more absurd than the last. Takuto had always prided himself on being a visionary, but this wasn't quite what he had in mind when he dreamed of a "unified classroom."
Aichan's "Sweetheart Kingdom"
Constitution: "Every day is Princess Day," including 20 clauses, such as "Braid length determines speaking rights." (In Aichan's kingdom, personal grooming was a matter of diplomacy.)
Economy: Glittery stickers as the official currency (Inflation was severe. A single sticker could be worth 10,000 glitter flakes, which, by the way, were not easily regulated.)
Military: Controlled 80% of the hair ties in class, effectively turning anyone into a "pretty lady." (The use of hair ties as a military tool was a stroke of genius… if you were a 5-year-old with a flair for fashion and war.)
Ryuutarou's "Dinosaur Empire"
Governing Philosophy: Survival of the fittest. (The kids quickly learned that whoever had the biggest fist in the classroom automatically became the "most powerful.")
Benefits: 5 minutes riding a dinosaur every day. (Okay, not a real dinosaur, but Ryuutarou had an absurdly detailed toy Tyrannosaurus Rex that he used to establish dominance. This, of course, led to a lot of fights about who got to "ride" it.)
Tyrannical Rule: Drawing political opponents' crying faces in the bathroom stalls. (And as for graffiti? Well, Ryuutarou had the most expressive tag: "hehehe.")
Takuto's "Business Federation"
Strengths: Possesses the only crayon that could still write. (Let's face it, he wasn't exactly prepared for the logistics of kindergarten politics, but he had the art supplies.)
Weaknesses: All policies were wildly misinterpreted.
The "rotating system" for toys was misunderstood as "taking turns being a horse."
"Performance reviews" turned into "whoever eats the fastest gets to be in charge."
The "Board of Directors" was interpreted as "the people who don't eat cookies."
Takuto had to admit, the odds were stacked against him. And just when he thought he could win over the room with a shiny promise of "cookie benefits," Kenta shouted across the room, "CEO is corrupt!" He had discovered the truth: Takuto's national treasury (aka his pockets) only contained a few crumbs left from an earlier snack disaster.
At 3 PM, the political tension in the kindergarten reached its peak:
Aichan's faction had begun using ribbons to choke the opposition (though, to be fair, they were mostly trying to tie a bow).
The Dinosaur Team had marked their territory in the corner with urine (unexpectedly spelling "LOSER" in a cryptic yet clearly aggressive display of dominance).
The Neutral Faction—comprised mostly of kids who didn't understand politics—had built a castle out of voting blocks and declared their independence from all other factions.
"I demand to initiate the impeachment process!" Ryuutarou shouted, holding up his Tyrannosaurus toy like a battle flag.
The Impeachment Process:
The process, as expected, was a spectacle. It began with the traditional clapping vote by all present (though Kenta had taken the concept of "enthusiastic support" a little too far and clapped for 30 minutes straight). The next step was a jump rope contest to decide the winner. Takuto, being naturally graceful, managed to trip over his own pants during the first round. His dignity? Absolutely shattered.
Finally, the last step of the impeachment process: rock-paper-scissors.
Takuto, determined not to lose, threw "rock" in the final round. But just as he thought he had won, Ryuutarou pulled out a water gun from behind his back and shouted, "I choose water!"
The entire classroom gasped as Takuto, soaked to the bone, stood there in disbelief. His "CEO" diaper clung stubbornly to his waist, but the message was clear: his reign was over.
With tears in his eyes and water dripping from his hair, Takuto turned to face the principal, who had been quietly observing the chaos from his desk. "Let's just play house..." the principal muttered, clearly over it all.
Takuto's Demotion:
And so, Takuto was demoted to the position of "Hand Sanitizer Manager," a role that was as tragic as it was humbling. He carved his thoughts into the bathroom stall:
"Politics is just a bunch of fools managing another bunch of fools."
However, in his flustered state, he mistakenly wrote "Politics" as "Securities" and drew a crying face next to it—because nothing says "I've given up" quite like a poorly executed misspelling.
As he sat there contemplating his meteoric rise and fall in the kindergarten political landscape, he noticed something odd on the bathroom walls. There were old messages, scratched out by previous occupants of the stall:
"Oppose Dictatorship!" — with a bear illustration (Class of 2018)
"Long live Princesses!" — with pink glitter (Clearly from Aichan's faction)
"Dinosaurs are the best" — blurred out from being drenched in urine.
"Looks like this is the history of class struggles in kindergarten…" Takuto thought, deeply moved by the depth of the conflict that had unfolded before him.
Just then, the door creaked open, and Kenta peeked in, holding Takuto's "Business Plan" that had been confiscated the previous day. "CEO…" Kenta said with a mischievous grin, "Need toilet paper?"
Takuto looked at the crumpled piece of paper in Kenta's hand, now covered in yogurt stains and cookie crumbs, and realized… Maybe he hadn't lost after all.
Maybe the real lesson was that even the smallest of revolutions could leave a mark.