Takuto Kimura was in the midst of a grand project. With laser focus, he was constructing a miniature version of the Tokyo Stock Exchange using nothing but Lego blocks, the blocks strewn about in various states of incompletion. Takuto wasn't satisfied with a mere representation of the stock exchange, however—oh no, he was an artist, a financial architect. He carefully recreated every column, every trade desk, every flashing ticker. Each block was placed with the precision of a seasoned trader analyzing market trends. However, due to his tiny hands (which, let's face it, didn't quite have the dexterity of an adult's), the final structure looked more like a glorified public restroom with really ambitious aspirations. But to him, it was perfect. It was his masterpiece.
"Perfect," he muttered to himself as he took a step back to admire his work, his little fingers brushing over the edges of a block that stubbornly wouldn't stick. He didn't care. To the eyes of a child who understood the complexities of supply and demand, it was a triumph. "Next, I just need to mold a few investors out of clay... and maybe get some pension fund managers in here."
He was just about to sculpt a particularly disappointed-looking fund manager when the door to his room burst open with such force that the tiny plastic building shook like it was caught in a mild earthquake.
"Sweetie~" His mom's voice came through the door, sickeningly sweet, like the sound of a sugar-coated vacuum. "I've hired an amazing tutor for you!"
Takuto froze mid-clay-sculpting. His blood ran cold. His eyes darted to the doorway, and what he saw made him instantly regret ever being born.
Standing in the doorway was none other than Kenichi Matsumoto—the finance minister from his previous life, the very same man who had humiliated him in countless board meetings with his snide, incessant boasting of numbers that went to three decimal places. Takuto's past life flashed before his eyes, remembering all the countless times Matsumoto's voice echoed in his ears: "Three decimal places, Kimura. THREE! Keep up!" He shuddered.
Now, this guy was standing in front of him wearing black-rimmed glasses, a college sweatshirt, and proudly sporting a "University of Tokyo Math Department" badge like a cat who just caught a particularly helpless mouse. He was grinning like he had just solved an equation that would send Takuto to the history books for all the wrong reasons.
"Yo," Matsumoto pushed up his glasses in that smug way only the truly unbearable could pull off. "I heard there's a little kid here who needs to count on his fingers for 1+1?"
Takuto's eyes widened. His blood pressure soared. The Lego board director Takuto had been holding crashed to the floor with a dramatic clink, and in that instant, alarms started blaring in his head. This wasn't just bad. This was catastrophic.
Why was this guy reincarnated too?! Was the universe playing a cruel joke on him?
Subject: Elementary School Math
Matsumoto wasted no time in setting the stage for his torturous plan. His first question was deceptively simple: "Xiaoming has 3 apples. He eats 1. How many does he have left?"
Takuto's mind went into overdrive, calculating the most efficient way to answer. But then, the old habits of his past life kicked in. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out:
"That depends on whether we're using GAAP or IFRS accounting standards! If it's a pre-tax deduction…"
Matsumoto, unamused, scribbled something in his notebook. "Suspected delusional disorder, recommend CT scan."
Takuto's face flushed. This wasn't going well at all.
Subject: Chinese Composition
The next subject was equally dreadful. "Topic: My Ideal Dream."
Takuto leaned forward, poised to write, but his mind immediately went into business mode. He could almost hear the voice of his previous life's mentor in his head, advising him: Always think long term. Always analyze SWOT.
And so, he began:
"Based on SWOT analysis, my core competitiveness is my identity as a reincarnator (advantage), but it is limited by my bladder capacity (weakness). In the next five years, I plan to acquire this kindergarten and increase market share through strategic acquisitions..."
Matsumoto glanced up from his own work, blinking slowly. "Please do not plagiarize the script from The Wolf of Wall Street."
Takuto froze. Was it really that obvious?
Subject: Physical Education
It wasn't just in the classroom where Matsumoto's tortures came into play. During the jump rope test, Takuto tripped over the rope for the 12th time. Matsumoto watched, as calm as ever, and asked, "What's the reason you keep failing?"
Takuto, ever the strategist, didn't miss a beat. "It's a volatility issue in the bond market! The rope is equivalent to the ten-year Treasury yield curve... it's just unpredictable!"
Matsumoto reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "Hello, is this the mental hospital?"
Takuto's heart sank. I can't catch a break, can I?
Late Night: The Anti-Matsumoto Strategy
Desperate times called for desperate measures. That night, Takuto started his "Anti-Matsumoto Strategy" with the intensity of a battle-hardened CEO preparing for a hostile takeover. The equipment list was as follows:
Mom's eyeliner pencil (converted into a mini voice recorder)
Tablet (hidden inside a picture book pocket)
Kenta's "Invincible Cheat Sheet" (written on his arm, but blurred into an abstract painting by sweat)
He had a plan. Oh, yes, he had a plan.
Action Log:
09:00 AM: Matsumoto asked: "What is 5×7?"
Takuto, glancing at his arm, was caught off guard. The cheat sheet, drenched in his own sweat, had turned into a color chart. With no time to recalibrate, he stammered, "According to my analysis… it's… blue!"
Matsumoto didn't even flinch. "You're going to need more than just colors to survive this, kid."
09:30 AM: Matsumoto asked for a dictation of Quiet Night Thoughts. Takuto pulled out his tablet, but as he clicked the button, the screen flashed an ominous "ERROR 404—Suspected System Update."
"Ugh!" Takuto's mind raced. Why now, of all times?!
10:00 AM: Matsumoto's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Last question: What's in your pants pocket?"
Takuto, heart pounding, fumbled desperately. "This is… a new type of thermometer! I, uh, I'm monitoring body temperature!"
In reality, it was the tablet, which had heated up to 40°C. Takuto was sweating buckets now, and not from the physical exertion. The heat from the device was making him feel like he was trapped in a sauna with a business rival who had no sense of humor.
The Counterattack: Business Theory
Takuto decided it was time for a counterattack, something innovative. He had learned from the best—his previous self, the master of business manipulation. Step 1: Add something extra to Matsumoto's coffee. But wait—he had accidentally grabbed his mom's collagen powder.
Result: Matsumoto's skin became so bouncy that he was scouted by a talent agent as a high school idol. Takuto watched with dismay as Matsumoto, now glowingly radiant, posed for selfies, completely oblivious to the chaos that Takuto had intended.
Step 2: Alter the lesson plan. Instead of asking, "What is 15-8?" Takuto transformed it into, "Please calculate the reasonable valuation for this kindergarten acquisition."
Matsumoto raised an eyebrow but powered through, showing no sign of sympathy.
Step 3: Bribe him with pocket money. "This is a consulting fee, please go easy on my homework," Takuto said, handing over 500 yen.
Matsumoto, pulling out a calculator, started typing away. "Based on your last life's salary, your hourly rate should be…"
The final exam arrived, and Matsumoto had one last trick up his sleeve.
"Answer this question," Matsumoto smirked, "and I'll exempt you from all homework—"
Takuto was prepared for anything. Anything. He had been trained for this.
The question: "If Company A's stock price is x, and Company B is trying to make a hostile takeover…"
Takuto immediately launched into M&A strategy mode, speaking for half an hour with the kind of fervor that could only come from a reincarnated financial genius. He was unstoppable, weaving intricate arguments and obscure references to market trends.
Matsumoto clapped after Takuto finished. "Brilliant! Too bad..." He flipped over the board. "...This is actually a second-grade elementary school tree-planting problem."
Takuto stared at the board in disbelief. "Wait... what?!"
On the cover of his homework notebook, Takuto wrote, "Warning: This product (referring to himself) has temporarily lost its commercial judgment ability due to a dimensionality reduction strike."
Matsumoto would never know how close he came to meeting the true financial mind of Takuto Kimura.