After 17 failed attempts at napping, Takuto Kimura was officially done with the idea of simply sleeping. The last straw had been when Kenta, of all people, had loudly announced that Takuto was "snoring like a chainsaw" while actually wide awake, plotting his next big move. The realization hit him hard—the Nap Monitoring System was unbeatable. It was as if the teachers had developed some kind of sixth sense that could detect the slightest flicker of a blink or the subtlety of a hand scratching an itch in the middle of an attempted nap.
Takuto, ever the resourceful man of innovation, crouched down in the only place that could offer any semblance of privacy in the chaos that was the kindergarten: the bathroom stall. It was here, in the sacred "undisturbed laboratory," where his brilliant mind could work unhindered, without the constant threat of nap time surveillance.
Scribbling feverishly on a roll of toilet paper with a crayon (which, honestly, was a bit of a struggle given that crayons weren't exactly designed for high-level engineering work), he began to draft his solution:
Feasibility Report on Counteracting the Nap Monitoring System
Problem Description:
Teachers can see through all the fake sleeping tricks.
Core Issue:
A three-year-old body can't control farting, burping, or drooling, which results in being caught during nap time.
Solution:
Create a Fully Automated Fake Sleeping Assistance Device, aka Sleep God 2.0.
Takuto, clearly a visionary in the field of "sleep deception," muttered to himself as he continued sketching, "As long as we simulate the physiological characteristics of sleep…" He suddenly paused mid-thought, noticing a small hand slip under the bathroom stall door, accompanied by the unmistakable voice of Aichan.
"Takuya," Aichan called, her voice a mix of curiosity and suspicion, "Are you running a company in there?"
Takuto froze. The jig was up. "This is… an international video conference!" he blurted out, pressing the flush button in a desperate attempt to cover his tracks. It was a panic-induced move, but at least it sounded legitimate.
Aichan didn't buy it for a second. "International video conference? In a bathroom? With a crayon?"
Takuto quickly tried to regain his composure. "Absolutely. It's… uh, classified. I'll have to debrief you later."
She didn't reply, but he could hear her muttering as she walked away. Still, the wheels of innovation were already turning in Takuto's head.
Sleep God 2.0 Technical Specifications
Power System:
Took apart Kenta's jumping frog toy (compensation: 10 biscuits + one week of being ridden like a horse).
(The toy, which had been a favorite of Kenta's for several weeks, had been generously sacrificed to fuel Takuto's grand plan. As any genius inventor knows, a true scientist makes sacrifices in the name of progress.)
Breathing Module:
Linked balloons repurposed from mom's facial mask bags (Takuto had a very loose definition of "materials science").
The breathing rhythm was synchronized to match the sound of the principal snoring, which, according to Takuto's detailed observation, was a regular 22 snores per minute. Perfect for simulating deep sleep.
Anti-Detection Features:
"Deep Sleep Face" mask coated with petroleum jelly.
The key to convincing the teacher that Takuto was in a deep sleep. The petroleum jelly wasn't just for shine—it also helped keep his face immobile enough that no one could detect any subtle signs of movement. Takuto had learned long ago that subtlety was the key to success in deception.
Backup Plan:
If all else failed, the device played a lullaby whenever a teacher approached. This would distract them long enough to make a clean getaway, or at the very least, buy him a few extra minutes of "sleep."
Takuto felt a sense of accomplishment as he finished his schematics. "This will work," he said to himself, already imagining the applause he would receive from the kindergartners when his genius invention was unveiled. He put the crayon down and stood, ready to begin assembling his masterpiece.
But as soon as he left the bathroom stall, his dreams of triumph came crashing down. Aichan was waiting for him, arms crossed, eyebrow raised.
"Are you… actually working on a nap device?" she asked, her voice dripping with suspicion.
Takuto tried to brush it off. "Of course not! This is… purely scientific research!"
Aichan narrowed her eyes but said nothing more. Little did Takuto know, she was already plotting her own competing invention.
Takuto's first test of the device came at exactly 14:00, during the most sacred of moments—nap time. He activated Sleep God 2.0, eager to see if his work would pay off. For the first minute, everything was perfect. The breathing module hummed softly, mimicking the principal's snores, while the mask created an illusion of deep slumber. Takuto couldn't help but smile to himself. Victory was near.
But then… disaster struck.
14:01
The frog toy suddenly malfunctioned. Instead of hopping gently, it fast-forwarded to the climax of its built-in sound loop: "Ribbit! Ribbit! Ribbit-ribbit!" For a moment, Takuto thought he might've actually jumped out of his skin.
14:02
The balloon holding the facial mask suddenly burst. Takuto's carefully crafted system, which had taken hours to perfect, exploded into chaos as the essence spray landed with perfect aim right on the humidity gauge.
14:03
The backup lullaby activated… except it wasn't quite the soothing lullaby he had planned. Instead, it was the unmistakable sound of the principal singing in the shower, blasting off-key notes of what sounded like a mix of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" and an opera aria.
It was in that moment, as he lay there covered in petroleum jelly and listening to the principal's disastrous shower performance, that the door to the nap room swung open with a dramatic flourish.
"TAKUTO KIMURA!" the principal bellowed, her voice echoing through the room.
Takuto, who had momentarily given in to the sweet allure of defeat, tried to pretend nothing was wrong. He turned towards the principal with a goofy, jelly-smeared grin. "What's the problem, Principal? Just… a little science project here!"
But the sight before her could not be ignored. Takuto's face was completely coated in petroleum jelly, making him resemble a demented, shiny version of a mad scientist. The jumping frog toy had been flung onto the bed, its plastic legs still twitching with energy. Five balloons floated above him, each bearing a crude drawing of the board of directors (a group of stuffed animals Takuto had used as placeholders).
The confiscated device was then paraded into the teacher's office, where it sparked a heated debate:
Mr. Yamada:
"This circuit board glued together with boogers… genius, or pure insanity?"
Nurse:
"The breathing tube detects strawberry-flavored snot… What does that even mean?"
Principal:
(Pressing play on the backup music) "Acquisition! Acquisition!" the device shouted, as if to punctuate the absurdity of it all.
And then, the most fatal flaw of all was uncovered.
The base of the device, in Takuto's infinite wisdom, had been engraved with a message: "Patented, pirating will result in hemorrhoids."
"This is industrial espionage!" Takuto shouted, frantically trying to retrieve his device, but tripping on his pants and landing perfectly into the trash bin in a spectacular display of clumsiness.
Three days later, Takuto discovered, to his horror, that the kindergarten had updated its nap monitoring system. They had added a new "Abnormal Breathing Detection" feature, clearly copied from his design. The lullaby, of course, was a remix of the principal's shower song, complete with off-key singing and an unsettling level of enthusiasm.
Kenta, ever the opportunist, formed the "Anti-Monitoring Guerilla Team," charging kids biscuits to help them fake sleep using an upgraded "Snoring Generator" made from straws and modeling clay.
Aichan, not to be outdone, filed a patent for the "Most Beautiful Sleeping Face," her core technology being lipstick to create a "natural flush" on the cheeks and eyelash attachment service (though she had definitely stolen the teacher's fake eyelashes).
"Is this commercial infringement…?" Takuto wondered aloud, staring at his idea being split apart and commercialized.
But before he could dwell on it too much, he heard a snap. The principal was holding up a photo of Sleep God 2.0, proudly sticking it on the "Kindergarten Innovation Honor Board." In the photo, Takuto's face, coated in petroleum jelly, radiated an eerie glow of wisdom—like a tired, overworked inventor who had just created a masterpiece… and lost it all in one fell swoop.