It was a warm morning in early April—the kind that felt just pleasant enough to fool you into thinking the day might be kind. In Class 9-B of Yamato-Indira International School, the bell had just rung, and the students were settling into their worn-out seats, sunlight pouring through the wide windows.
Among them sat a boy at the back corner of the classroom—Girkou Mizushima. Everyone simply called him Girk.
He was the kind of boy you wouldn't notice if you weren't looking. Medium height, normal posture, a pale, uneven haircut he'd done himself the night before. His eyes stayed down, focused on the lines of his notebook—though they rarely wrote anything of value.
"Girk!" called out one of the class bullies, Raita Tanabe, from a few seats ahead, snickering. "You seriously wore that same shirt again? What's the occasion—garbage day?"
The class chuckled. Girk didn't answer. He just smiled, awkwardly scratching his cheek, heart tightening as he glanced sideways at the teacher walking in. Would she say anything? Of course not.
No one ever did.
At home, things weren't much different.
Girk's little brother, Haruki, glared at him from across the dinner table. "Why do you always act like a loser?"
Their mother sighed. "Can't you be a little more like Haruki? He's good in sports, and his teachers don't call us in every week."
Girk stared into his rice. The room was filled with noise, but none of it felt directed at him in a way that acknowledged he was human. Only that he was... disappointing.
He escaped the world in the only way he knew: through stories.
Mangas, light novels, anime—even bad isekai series gave him comfort. He imagined himself as a hero in a grand world. Not perfect, not powerful—but respected. Accepted. Loved.
One day, while hiding behind the library building during lunch, his classmate Kanako Shibata passed by—the girl he liked.
Kind smile. Neat handwriting. Smart, polite, a little sarcastic. She once helped Girk when he dropped his textbooks in the hallway. It was the first time a girl had ever smiled at him like that.
He'd liked her ever since.
He told his friends—or at least, the people he thought were his friends.
"Kanako?" said Daiki with a smirk. "You mean Kanako the Ice Queen? Pfft, good luck, man. She'd rather date a monkey."
That hurt. But what hurt more was when Souta added, "Wait, are you serious? You think you have a chance with her?"
Eventually, after months of cowardice, Girk confessed.
He pulled Kanako aside after school, shaking, voice barely audible. "I… I like you. I know I'm not that great, but… I wanted you to know."
She stared at him.
"You and me? Never. How could you think that someone like you had a chance?" Her voice was sharp, her expression disgusted. "Even your face is disgusting. I bet your mother is ashamed to have you."
The world stopped.
Girk opened his mouth—but she kept going. "And if you try to come near me again, I'll tell the teacher you're harassing me."
The next week, rumors spread. That Girk had stalked her. That he'd said indecent things. That he was creepy.
The teachers avoided his gaze.
Even his so-called friends stopped sitting with him.
One of them—Daiki, the loudest—mocked him openly. "Pervert tried to hit on Kanako! Did you see her face? Man, I'd cry too if Girk liked me!"
Girk didn't cry.
He smiled. Like always. A broken, twitching smile.
Weeks passed. He stopped eating lunch in the classroom. Even his grades dipped. His parents didn't hide their disappointment.
"You're such a failure," his father said after getting a call from the school. "Why did we even have you?"
No one defended him. Not even Haruki.
But he had his worlds.
Inside his imagination, he was a knight. A mage. A beast tamer. A genius strategist who led armies. A boy chosen by fate.
Outside, he was just Girk.
And slowly, even he started to forget the difference.
Then came the transfer notice.
A call from his uncle living in another town. An opening at a hybrid school—Indian and Japanese cultures blended together. "Maybe a new place will help him reset," his uncle had said.
His parents didn't even ask if he wanted to go. They just packed his bag.
Maybe they were right.
Maybe there was nothing left here worth staying for.
On the final day, as the sun set behind the school gates, Girk stood alone.
No one said goodbye. No one even asked why he was leaving.
But somewhere deep in his heart, despite all the sadness, was a flicker of something small and stubborn.
Hope.
Hope that maybe, just maybe, things could change.