“The actors have realized it too. Then let me turn to the next page of the script, about the evil that occurred at Origami Academy—” Rook smiled meaningfully, “Actors, have you heard of the ‘Meme Virus’?”

“Is this the true form of the Slumbernana Monkey?” Dan Heng asked.

“Exactly. Meme contamination is a contagious phenomenon. It affects the information particles of cognition, transforming how the contaminated perceive specific things, much like special effects in a film.” Rook nodded, “Words, music, videos… these are all mediums of transmission. Humans are naturally curious about the unknown, and the meme virus takes advantage of that.”

“Even in reality, meme contamination can change a person’s thoughts. And in the world of dreams—it can give rise to nightmares that transform people into apes.”

Rappa understood the logic of their actions: “So, Evil Ninja Ape first had the evil spirits spread decorated mediums, disguised as entertainment, to plant the seeds of evil arts in the hearts of the ninja disciples. Then he usurped the position of the teachers and elders, abusing the minds of the ninja disciples, causing the evil arts in their hearts to manifest.”

“In such a cycle, the ninja disciples of Origami Village would be assimilated by the evil spirits, becoming puppets of Evil Ninja Ape… What a heartless, ruthless, and merciless grand conspiracy!”

Rook: “This actor’s lines are a bit obscure, but the plot direction is largely correct.”

“Since Gama Ninja already knew the truth, why did he not act sooner?”

Rook sighed softly, an expression of helplessness on his face: “I am merely a passing director, how dare I act rashly? To defeat a formidable villain, we must rely on you, the distinguished protagonists.”

—

Soul Society.

Twelfth Division, Research and Development Institute, in the deepest dissection room.

A dim blue light shone on the cold metal table, where Nemuri Hachigo’s gigai lay silently. Her body was precisely dissected, and every tissue slice was suspended on an adjacent screen for ten-thousand-fold analysis.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi wore a special protective mask, a hint of fanaticism flashing in his golden pupils.

“Meme virus… fascinating! It cannot be observed physically, nor can it be isolated. It’s more like a ‘concept,’ a piece of ‘information’ implanted in the flesh, directly infecting Nemuri Hachigo’s modified soul…”

On the screen, an irregular fluctuation occasionally flickered on the stability graph representing Nemuri Hachigo’s modified soul—that was the only way the “meme virus” could be indirectly captured by the instruments—it could not be directly observed, only its “existence” could be indirectly revealed through infected objects.

“Acting on cognition, distorting reality… it’s simply the perfect biological weapon. If I could master it…” A slight arc formed at the corner of Mayuri Kurotsuchi’s mouth.

Just as he was engrossed in this fantasy, the access door outside the dissection room emitted a faint hum as it was forcibly unlocked. There was no alarm, no warning… Mayuri Kurotsuchi’s eyes narrowed, instantly collecting all data. As he turned, a certain pharmaceutical agent had already slid out from his sleeve.

However, the person standing at the door made his pupils contract slightly.

“Yo, Captain Kurotsuchi, long time no see.”

Urahara Kisuke was still in his usual casual attire, fanning himself with a folding fan, a harmless smile on his face. He stood abruptly in the most core restricted area of the Research and Development Institute, as if he had just dropped by a neighbor’s house.

“Urahara Kisuke…” Mayuri Kurotsuchi’s voice was icy, “How dare you set foot here?”

“Don’t say that.” Urahara gently pressed his fan against his chin, but his gaze swept past Mayuri Kurotsuchi, glancing at Nemuri Hachigo’s gigai on the dissection table behind him, “You must be tinkering with something very dangerous, right? So I couldn’t help but come and see.”

“Dangerous?” Mayuri Kurotsuchi scoffed, “In your eyes, is any power beyond common sense considered dangerous? How cowardly. This power represents the future!”

“The future isn’t always a good thing.” Urahara Kisuke’s smile receded a bit, and his gaze began to sharpen, “You are researching that ‘meme virus,’ aren’t you? Take my advice, perhaps you should stop.”

“Stop?” Mayuri Kurotsuchi sounded as if he had heard the funniest joke, “Why? Just based on your baseless advice?”

“For two reasons.” Urahara extended two fingers, “First, you won’t be able to research the meme virus. This thing has no physical form; it’s not any form of matter or energy as we understand it. You cannot analyze it using the concept of spirit particles. This virus is like a ghost that cannot be captured, no matter what, right?”

Mayuri Kurotsuchi’s face was grim; he did not refute, because what Urahara said was indeed the predicament he had just encountered.

“Second, and most importantly.” Urahara closed his folding fan and pointed to the flickering screen beside him, “You cannot control it. It is not a knife, not a sword, not any weapon as we understand it. Once you, yourself, become infected during the research process, or if even a tiny bit of it leaks out… the entire Soul Society and the Human World could be drawn into a distortion that you cannot stop.”

The dissection room was dead silent, with only the regular ticking sounds from the instruments.

“Heh heh, I don’t believe it… Why can Dr. Primitive research it? Can he control it?” Mayuri Kurotsuchi snorted coldly, unconvinced.

“Then why don’t you ask yourself.” Urahara Kisuke turned and left without looking back, “Why did he receive Nous’s gaze, and not you or I?”

—

According to Rook, these Banana Teachers were all appointed by Professor Banana, and he was currently in the principal’s office, available for a direct confrontation.

Everyone arrived at the principal’s office, which was already crowded with monkeys. Professor Banana stood with his hands behind his back in front of a giant portrait, slowly turning around: “Dear students, although you neither made an appointment nor knocked, I still welcome you.”

Rappa got straight to the point: “Stop beating around the bush and confess quickly—you are the Evil Ninja Ape’s Evil Spirit Leader, aren’t you?”

“Uh…” Professor Banana looked helplessly at Xing, “Student next to me, can you help me translate?”

“In short, a meme virus has appeared at Origami Academy, spreading widely and infecting the minds of the students. Professor Banana, it is the Slumbernana Monkey, and the ones spreading this virus are your Banana Teachers.”

“…” Professor Banana smiled slightly, “I thought this class could be dragged out a bit longer.”

Dan Heng: “Your confession is faster than expected. So, this is indeed Dr. Primitive’s conspiracy?”

“Conspiracy? Banana banana banana, you think too highly of Penacony. How can this money-obsessed pleasure garden, which only reeks of copper, be worthy of Dr. Primitive’s noble human experiments?” Professor Banana looked displeased, “Here, there is only me, a ‘Second-Class Research Ape,’ completing my graduation project in Penacony: a atavistic experiment based on ‘memes.’”