"First things first—we need to contact your mother," the guidance director said with a noble gleam in his eye. "No one should go through something like this without family by their side. It's simply too cruel."
He straightened his back, basking in a glow of moral righteousness.
"I'll also organize a school-wide 'Circle of Love' donation campaign. Many hands make light work—I'm sure we can cover most of your medical expenses. Additionally, in an act of professional rebellion, I'll persuade Miss Keika to visit you in the hospital. While I don't condone teenage romance, love is said to be the most mysterious and powerful cure. You might just wake up!"
"Then please, stick to your principles," Yin Ze cut in awkwardly. "If you see a couple flirting, feel free to break them up. I won't mind."
"He's traumatized," Nishimura whispered. "Seeing others happy makes him hostile. Might escalate into a dangerous personality disorder."
"Says the former cheer squad member who gave up a six-figure salary to be a school nurse. I'd say you're the danger."
"No need to panic, Takizawa-kun. Your current symptoms are manageable. Recovery is only a matter of time," Nishimura said calmly, ignoring the jab. "But based on what we've seen, the entrance exam's probably out of the question."
"With your current... rollercoaster IQ, staying in school may not be productive. Prioritize rest and mental recovery."
"Why do you keep personally attacking me? I just forgot a few classmates and flubbed some history questions. I'm seriously questioning your professionalism."
"That denial is a classic symptom. It's a psychological defense mechanism, very common. Healthy people reflect on mistakes; patients like you insist they're right."
He adjusted his glasses and took on a lecturing tone. "For instance, the question about Amaterasu's grandson—can you repeat his name now?"
"Ame-no-oshihomimi-no-mikoto," Yin Ze answered immediately.
"...Huh?" said Nishimura.
"...Excuse me?" blinked the director.
"Wait, what?" chimed in homeroom teacher Tomoko Yasui.
Yin Ze blinked. He had recited it perfectly. No hesitation.
"Mr. Nishimura, thoughts?" The director looked skeptical.
"Young people are into dramatic names these days. It's not uncommon," Nishimura replied coolly. "More data is needed to rule out coincidence. Scientific rigor, after all."
"Can you repeat that name right now?" Yin Ze raised an eyebrow.
Nishimura maintained a professional smile—and stayed silent.
That name sounded like a keyboard smash. No way it stuck after two hearings.
"My power to correct misinformation and absorb knowledge surpasses yours. This alone proves I'm fine," Yin Ze declared proudly.
"Something's off here..." Nishimura scratched his head.
"Refusing guidance, insisting you're right… That's a textbook symptom of mental disturbance." Yin Ze slowly shook his head.
"..."
"How can this be?" the director murmured in disbelief. "Can healers not heal themselves?"
"Director, please don't lump me in with him," Nishimura groaned.
"One of us is definitely the real patient here," Yin Ze said with confidence. "Mr. Nishimura outed himself as a psychologist and rushed to diagnose me. But I countered and won. He's the most suspicious. I say we eliminate him next round."
"That's classic divide-and-conquer—Cao Cao fell for that too. But our director's no fool. He's read more history than any of us."
"I am the guidance director—the final authority in this room," the man replied with theatrical flair. "If I were the patient, none of you would survive round three. Also, Mr. Nishimura's background was thoroughly vetted when we hired him. All checks passed."
"In that case, all eyes are on Player 4." He turned to the only one not yet questioned.
Three sets of eyes landed on Tomoko Yasui.
The homeroom teacher's face twitched. Her jaw clenched. Her fists trembled. And then she slammed her palm on the tea table with a crack.
Her Kansai accent burst out: "Are y'all three-year-olds or what?!"
Tomoko Yasui—Language teacher. Honorary advisor to the Karate Club.
Please let the table be okay.
The trio quietly sipped tea, pretending not to exist.
"What's going on with Takizawa? School needs to make a decision. Now!" she demanded.
"As I said, we need more clinical observation." Nishimura set down his teacup. "Takizawa-kun is well-mannered, articulate—but there's clear cognitive dysfunction. It's... contradictory."
"He's just emotionally shaken. That's all." Yin Ze waved it off.
"Then let's run some memory tests," Nishimura nodded to the director.
"Wait!" Yin Ze interrupted.
"What now?"
"Why not test recall on new information instead? Much more convincing."
"Fair." Nishimura pulled a deck of cards from his coat pocket.
"You're bringing gambling tools to school?! Director, look at this!"
"Who said these are playing cards?"
Nishimura flipped a few face up on the table—anime-style idol girls in flashy costumes.
"This is a collectible card set from the Tokyo Idol Project. Let's keep it simple: draw 6, you get two seconds, then I cover them. You recite."
"Sure."
Nishimura shuffled and drew six cards.
"Spade—sailor uniform 6. Diamond—school swimsuit 3. Diamond—bunny suit K. Heart—bikini 8. Spade—apron 2. Club—thigh-highs A."
Yin Ze recited slowly.
Then paused.
"Wait... these are playing cards!"
Nishimura ignored him. His eyes widened. Flipped the cards—exact match.
"Kid's brain is a steel trap. How's this the same guy who forgot Yamato Takeru was a guy?" the director muttered.
"Try 12 cards." Nishimura held up two fans of cards.
Yin Ze scratched his head—then nailed them again.
"Another six!"
This time, the director helped hold cards.
10 seconds.
"Add another 12!"
20 seconds.
"More!"
…
Minutes passed.
The three adult educators—pillars of academic guidance—now stood holding dozens of scantily-clad anime idol cards up to one intensely focused teenage boy.
"Spade—fishnet tights Q. Heart—bodysuit 10. Spade—western wedding dress 9. Diamond—denim hot pants J. Diamond—ballerina leotard 4. Joker—kabuki robe. Heart—shrine maiden A. Spade—ceremonial guard uniform 2... oh my god, finally done."
They'd used the entire deck.
Yin Ze's throat was dry, but he recited everything.
Nishimura stared in stunned silence.
Tomoko Yasui squinted, checking for hidden marks on the cards.
The director flipped the cards one by one, utterly absorbed in the artwork.
"How did you do that?" Nishimura asked.
"I just... remembered," Yin Ze replied, a little dazed himself.
If he had that kind of memory, why did he end up in a third-rate college?
Even Yasui, who knew him well, looked shaken.
It was like flipping open a notebook. He could pull memories at will—fast, precise, effortless.
But it felt like a skill he had to trigger—a conscious act of digging through old files.
Maybe that's why he forgot the teacher's visit today.
Yin Ze lifted his head. He could feel the gears in his brain turning. A current running through his nerves, retrieving blurred fragments from the depths of his mind—until they rose, vivid and alive.
Memories were files. Footage. Tape reels.
Everything he'd seen, heard, experienced—it was all in there.
He just had to watch.
A jolt hit him.
He flashed back to childhood. A song echoed in his head—
Let us ride through life with carefree joy, galloping freely beneath the stars~
Was he hallucinating music now?
Forget rewatching dramas on his phone during long trips. He could just hit "replay" on his brain.
"With this ability, I'm basically a walking poker savant. I'd destroy at any card game."
"With that ability, you're an unstoppable exam machine! First place, closed-book, guaranteed!" the director cried. "Takizawa, you're going to Tokyo U. This school's dry spell ends with you!"
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Those elite schools aren't conquered by brute memorization."
"The principal has dreamed of this moment for years. There'll be rewards. Big ones."
"A lifetime of learning, growing, and pushing forward. To touch the sky, you need knowledge. Broaden your world. See the bigger picture. I want to reach for it."
Yin Ze lowered his gaze.
"Director... please teach me."