Class 11 -B The Untamable Hearts

The Class That Shouldn’t Exist

(Jude’s POV)

The morning air was supposed to feel fresh and hopeful — it was the first day of another school year — but for me, it felt like pure chaos.

The streets were jammed with cars honking like wild geese, motorbikes cutting through the traffic, and the sun already turning my skin sticky. My bus driver seemed determined to hit every red light in Tokyo. By the time I finally stepped off, my hair had turned into an abstract sculpture and my uniform looked like I’d wrestled a windstorm.

I dragged my feet toward the gate of Yamashiro University, the silver letters glinting proudly under the sunlight. Students in crisp uniforms rushed past me — laughing, fixing each other’s collars, comparing schedules. Everyone looked picture-perfect and full of energy.

Everyone except me.

I caught my reflection in a shiny car window and sighed.

“First day of school, and I already look like a dropout.”

As soon as I entered the gate, something strange caught my attention — people were whispering.

Some chuckled quietly when I passed.

A group of girls near the bulletin board nudged one another, whispering behind their hands.

I frowned. Did I spill coffee on myself ? I checked — shirt buttoned, tie uneven but fine, skirt okay, socks… mostly clean. Nothing embarrassing.

“Whatever,” I muttered, shaking my head. “They’re just bored.”

I needed to find my section and collapse on a chair before my legs gave out.

The bulletin board was covered with fresh sheets of paper, pinned neatly in rows:

Section A

Section B

Section C

Section D

My eyes scanned the names one by one until— wait. There, at the very last corner, taped crookedly and printed in smaller, almost faded letters:

Section 11-B

Huh?

I tilted my head. “That’s weird. They skipped from A to D… and then this?”

I followed the line and froze when I saw it:

JUDE TAKAHARA — 11-B

There it was, clear as day.

But beside it was something even stranger — a small handwritten note in parentheses:

> Room 11-B – Building (Old Facility)

I blinked. building? Old facility?

Was that even part of the campus?

Curiosity started poking at me, but before I could process it, I caught snippets of conversation from the students nearby.

“Wait, someone actually got 11-B?” a boy whispered.

“Yup,” his friend snorted. “That’s the old section, right? The one they shut down?”

“Yeah. My cousin said no one’s been there for years.”

A small chill crept down my arms.

I tightened my grip on my bag and forced a weak smile. “Great. I’m either in a top-secret honors class or a horror movie.”

The path behind the main building was quiet — too quiet.

The sounds of chatter, laughter, and squeaking shoes slowly faded the farther I walked. The cement path cracked beneath my steps; vines tangled along the walls. Even the wind seemed hesitant to pass through.

My phone buzzed, startling me. A message from my old friend popped up:

> Mira: “Yo, what section r u? I got C ”with Haha Emoji

Me: “11-B. Apparently somewhere behind the school??”

Mira: “WHAT 😳 that’s the old building right?? Be careful 😭”

I rolled my eyes. “Rumors. There’s always one.”

Still, I couldn’t ignore the way my stomach tightened with each step.

When I turned the final corner, I saw it.

The Building.

It stood alone behind the gym — smaller, older, and half-swallowed by overgrown plants. Paint peeled off its walls like dried skin, and one window was cracked right across the middle. A faded metal sign still hung above the entrance: Building B — the paint nearly gone.

I forced a grin. “Well, this is welcoming.”

The door groaned when I pushed it open, echoing like something sighing deep inside the old structure.

The smell hit me instantly — dust, chalk, and aged wood, mixed with the faint scent of rain that had seeped through the cracked ceiling over the years. The hallway was dim and narrow, the kind of silence that pressed against your ears. Broken lockers lined the walls, their paint peeling like old skin.

My shoes crunched over scattered bits of glass and dirt as I stepped inside. Every sound I made echoed — too loud, too alone.

“Great,” I muttered. “Haunted school setting, level unlocked.”

I tilted my head upward. A faded sign near the stairwell caught my eye:

> 1st Floor — Storage

2nd Floor — Faculty Records

3rd Floor — Classrooms

“Of course,” I sighed. “Third floor. Why not?”

The stairs groaned beneath my weight with every step. The metal rail felt cold, sticky from the humidity. A thin film of dust clung to my fingers as I trailed them along the wall for balance.

On the second-floor landing, the air grew even heavier — thicker, like the building didn’t want me there. My breath came out uneven as I climbed higher, my bag thumping against my side.

When I finally reached the third floor, I stopped to catch my breath. The hallway stretched ahead, lined with half-open doors and shattered windows that let streaks of weak sunlight through. Cobwebs clung to the corners, swaying gently in the breeze from a broken fan.

And then, I saw it.

At the very end of the corridor, almost hidden behind a half-collapsed bulletin board, was a door. Its number plate hung crookedly, but the faded engraving was still clear enough to read:

> Room 11-B

A shiver ran down my spine.

I walked slowly toward it, the floor creaking beneath me, until I stood in front of the door. The paint was chipped, and faint scratches covered the wood like someone had tried to claw their way out.

I hesitated. The air around the doorknob was cold — unnaturally cold.

“Okay, Jude,” I whispered. “You made it this far. No chickening out now.”

With one deep breath, I pushed the door open.

It groaned loudly, echoing down the entire hallway, as if the building itself had woken up from a long sleep.

Inside, the classroom was dark and still. Dust motes floated lazily through a shaft of sunlight breaking through the cracked window. Old desks stood in crooked rows, some stacked in the back, others covered with yellowed papers.

The blackboard still bore faint white marks — words too faded to read.

The clock above it had stopped at 7:42.

For a moment, I just stood there, frozen.

Then, somewhere in the back of the room, I heard a faint sound.

A slow, soft tap… tap… tap.

I swallowed hard.

And then, as if on cue, a breeze slipped through the broken window — flipping one of the papers on the desk in front of me. On it, scribbled in pale, shaky handwriting, were the words:

> “Welcome to 11-B.”

(Miles Pov)

The morning sun hit my face like a spotlight as I strutted through the gate of Yamashiro High, my uniform already a little untidy, my shirt half-tucked, and my rainbow shoelaces screaming rebellion.

“Yow! New year, new drama!” I shouted, raising my hand like I was announcing a concert.

“Lower your voice, baka!” Rin said beside me, rolling her eyes but still laughing. “People are staring.”

“Let them stare,” I grinned, swinging my bag over my shoulder. “We’re fabulous, babe.”

Rin groaned. “You mean troublesome.”

Behind us, Aki — our other partner-in-chaos — giggled. “Miles, you literally almost got detention last year before classes even started.”

“Correction,” I said proudly, pointing at myself. “Almost. Didn’t happen. That’s growth.”

The three of us burst out laughing, turning heads as we walked through the main gate like we owned the place. The guards sighed, recognizing us immediately. Yeah, we were those students — the kind who made teachers pray for patience every semester.

“Okay, let’s find our new sections before the teachers find us,” Rin said, tugging me toward the bulletin board where a crowd of students gathered.

I squeezed my way through the crowd, my voice echoing like a megaphone.

“Move, babes, im coming through! We love education but not the waiting line!”

“Miles!” Aki hissed, smacking my arm. “You’re so embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing but iconic,” I winked.

I scanned the board. Colorful papers, lists of names, all neatly pinned.

Sections A, B, C, D… my eyes kept darting around until I spotted our grade level

Rin squealed first. “I got D!”

Aki followed. “Me too! D! We’re classmates again!”

They both turned to me, waiting for my name to pop up next to theirs.

I grinned confidently. “Obviously, I’ll be D too. The D stands for Handsome, duh.”

But when my eyes found my name, my grin froze.

> MILES TANAKA — 11-B

Location: Building (Old Facility), 3rd Floor

I blinked. Once. Twice.

“Uh… building? Third floor? That’s—”

Rin leaned closer. “Wait… isn’t that the creepy one behind the school?”

Aki frowned. “The abandoned one?”

I scratched my head, laughing nervously. “Maybe it’s just… under renovation? You know, vintage aesthetic?”

Rin crossed her arms. “Miles, that building has no electricity.”

“Then I’ll be shining on my own, babe,” I said dramatically, flipping imaginary hair.

Aki smirked. “Well, at least you’ll have ghosts to keep you company.”

I gasped. “Perfect! Maybe one will fall in love with me.”

They both groaned, laughing despite themselves.

We walked together until we reached the point where the main path split — one leading to the busy classrooms of the main building, the other toward the quiet, vine-covered path behind the gym.

Rin hugged me tightly. “If you see a shadow that talks, run.”

Aki added, “Or record it. That would go viral.”

I rolled my eyes, chuckling. “You two are so dramatic. It’s just a classroom. How bad could it be?”

Then I turned toward the path leading to the rear building.

The laughter of my friends faded behind me, replaced by the soft hum of cicadas and the crunch of gravel under my shoes.

The air grew still. The further I walked, the older everything looked — the cracked walls, the leaning fences, the silence.

Finally, I looked up — and there it was.

The old building.

Its windows were fogged, the paint peeling, the sign above the door almost unreadable.

I took a deep breath and grinned.

“Alright, Room 11-B,” I muttered. “Let’s see what kind of trouble you’ve got waiting.”

And with that, I marched toward the entrance, my heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves