There was once a boy who dutifully studied the Japanese language. He learned it on his own from various courses and methodologies shared by Japanese learners on the internet. To be able to speak and read Japanese fluently was his dream ever since he first laid his eyes on anime.

He was too shy to speak the language out loud. When at the Japanese super markets, he felt very tempted to try and speak to the employees and clerks, but he would hold himself back, afraid of burdening the Japanese people with his low skill level.

But as he drove to work or to classes, he would put his music player on shuffle through a playlist of Japanese only songs. Completely alone in his car, he would sing proud and out loud to all of the Japanese lyrics, not even understanding them but using his intuition and feeling to let his subconscious mind form the words.

But one day, while on such a drive, he lost control of his car. He flew off the ramp of the overpass and drove into a pole. When they pulled him from the wreckage, he was not expected to live. They took him to the emergency room and operated immediately.

After several long hours, the doctors met the grieving parents in the waiting room. They looked to the doctor and waited for the words that would release them from this horrible moment.

“Your son will live,” the doctor said. “But you will never be able to speak to him again without great effort.”

When they went into the room to see their son, his eyes lit up as he recognized his parents, but he began speaking to his parents in what could have been only fluent Japanese!! English was completely lost to him, but it seemed that Japanese came out as if it were his native language.

The doctor theorized that through all of his efforts to learn the language, the secondary learning parts of his brain were able to absorb the language. On a map of the human brain, he pointed out various dotted outline portions, citing their incredible potential to learn through passive methods.

In order to fully assess the ability of his brain after the accident, they decided to bring in a Japanese language professor from the nearby university. He drove twenty miles to come help the doctors and the family make the assessment of this strange but optimistic case in neuroscience. He was an unassuming professor overflowing with a demeanor of tranquility. He said very little, but when he did speak, the doctors could sense that it came from a place of wisdom.

Professor Tokidoki sat with the boy for several minutes. He began with simple formalities, asking how are you and what is your name. He then moved into more complex sentence structures and nuances, testing the cognitive abilities in full.

The assessment didn’t take very long. But when the professor came out of the room to meet the parents and the doctor, his demeanor of patience and empathy had vanished.

“Well, professor Tokidoki? What can be said of the patient?”

The professor was furiously packing up his bags and making his way out of the building. “That not Japanese, he not say anything. He just yelling CHING CHONG PING PONG TAI CHO HI HO FUK FUK!!”