Episode1

The first thing Sora Kanzaki noticed about this school… was how painfully ordinary it was.

Not in a bad way.

Just—predictable.

The buildings stood in neat rows, the corridors echoed at the same hours every day, and the students moved like they were following an invisible script. Laughter here. Gossip there. Confessions behind the stairwell. Rejections near the lockers.

It was all… familiar.

Too familiar.

Sora leaned back against the metal railing of the second-floor corridor, his fingers loosely wrapped around a can of soda he hadn’t bothered to open yet. His gaze drifted lazily over the courtyard below, where clusters of students gathered under the weak shade of trees, talking as if their conversations mattered.

They probably thought they did.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes half-lidded, watching without really seeing.

A month.

It had already been a month since he transferred here.

And yet—

“Nothing interesting,” he murmured under his breath.

The words slipped out quietly, almost like a sigh.

“Sora!”

A voice cut through the dull hum of the afternoon.

“Oi, Sora, come here! You’ve gotta see this!”

He didn’t move immediately.

There was a pause—a brief moment where he considered ignoring it altogether. But then, with a soft exhale, he pushed himself off the railing and walked toward the source of the noise.

A group had gathered near the end of the corridor.

Loud. Careless. Alive in a way that bordered on annoying.

His group.

Or rather… the group that had decided he belonged to them.

“Finally,” one of them grinned as Sora approached. “We thought you were gonna ignore us again.”

“I almost did,” Sora replied flatly.

A few of them laughed, but there was a certain restraint in it—like they weren’t entirely sure how far they could go with him.

That was always the case.

No one really knew where they stood with Sora Kanzaki.

He slipped his hands into his pockets, standing casually among them, though the air around him felt different the moment he arrived.

Quieter.

More controlled.

Even the loudest among them seemed to dial it down just a little.

It wasn’t something Sora tried to do.

It just… happened.

“So,” one of the boys nudged another forward, “show him.”

The boy grinned mischievously and stepped aside, revealing a smaller student standing stiffly against the wall, his bag clutched tightly in his hands.

His eyes flickered nervously between them.

Ah.

That kind of “fun.”

Sora glanced at the scene, his expression unreadable.

“What is it?” he asked, voice calm, almost bored.

“He confessed,” someone snickered. “Can you believe it?”

“To who?” Sora asked, though he already had a guess.

They all pointed—almost in unison.

At him.

The boy flinched under the sudden attention.

“I—I didn’t mean to—” he stammered, voice trembling. “I just—someone told me to—”

“Relax,” another interrupted, laughing. “We’re not gonna kill you.”

Sora watched quietly.

The boy looked like he might.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Sora stepped forward.

Not too close.

Just enough.

The boy froze completely, his breath catching as Sora’s shadow fell over him.

“You confessed to me?” Sora asked, tilting his head slightly.

The tone wasn’t mocking.

It wasn’t kind either.

It was… neutral.

That somehow made it worse.

“I—I—” the boy swallowed hard, nodding quickly.

Sora studied him for a second longer.

Then, without another word, he reached out—not to touch him—but to take the folded paper clutched in his shaking hand.

The confession letter.

Crumpled slightly at the edges.

Carefully written.

Probably rewritten multiple times.

Sora unfolded it slowly.

His eyes scanned the contents.

Line after line.

Words filled with hesitation. Admiration. Nervous hope.

The usual.

“…I like you.”

“…since the first day you transferred…”

“…I know this is sudden…”

“…but I wanted to tell you…”

His gaze paused briefly on one line.

“You looked lonely.”

For the first time, something flickered in his expression.

Faint.

Almost unnoticeable.

Then it disappeared.

He folded the letter again.

Neatly.

Precisely.

As if it had never been opened.

“Done?” one of the boys asked eagerly.

Sora didn’t respond.

Instead, he turned slightly—walking past them toward the row of dustbins placed near the stairwell.

Every eye followed him.

He stopped in front of one.

Opened the lid.

And without hesitation—

Dropped the letter inside.

The sound was soft.

Barely audible.

But it echoed louder than anything else in that moment.

Silence.

Then—

“Damn,” someone let out a low whistle. “Cold.”

Another laughed. “You didn’t even say anything.”

Sora closed the lid and turned back, his expression as calm as ever.

“There was nothing to say,” he replied.

The boy behind him stood frozen.

Still.

Like he hadn’t processed what just happened.

Sora walked past him without a second glance.

“Wait—wait!” one of the guys called out, jogging to catch up with him. “What about these?”

A stack of envelopes was shoved toward him.

Colorful.

Different handwriting.

Some decorated with small hearts.

Others sealed carefully.

“Today’s collection,” the guy grinned. “You’re seriously insane. How do you even get this many?”

Another chimed in, laughing, “There’s even one from a guy again. What’s your secret, huh?”

Sora looked at the letters.

Then at them.

Then back at the letters.

“Do you want them?” the guy asked jokingly.

Sora took the stack.

Held it loosely in one hand.

For a brief second, it looked like he might actually keep them.

Then—

He turned.

Walked back to the same dustbin.

And dropped all of them inside.

This time, the reaction was louder.

“Hey—!”

“You didn’t even read them!”

“At least check who sent them!”

Sora brushed his hands off lightly, as if getting rid of dust.

“They’re all the same,” he said.

“What is?”

“The words.”

He didn’t elaborate.

He didn’t need to.

To him, they were predictable.

Repetitive.

Empty.

“I like you.”

“You’re amazing.”

“Please go out with me.”

Different handwriting.

Same meaning.

Same ending.

Boring.

“Then what is interesting to you?” someone asked, half-curious, half-challenging.

Sora paused.

Just for a second.

The question lingered in the air.

What was interesting?

His gaze drifted—past them, past the corridor, toward the open sky visible through the windows.

Clear.

Endless.

Unchanging.

“…Nothing,” he said finally.

The answer landed heavier than expected.

Not because it was dramatic.

But because it sounded honest.

A beat of silence followed.

Then someone scoffed lightly. “Man, you’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” another laughed. “At this rate, you’re gonna die of boredom.”

Sora didn’t respond.

Maybe.

Or maybe…

He just hadn’t found something worth his attention yet.

The bell rang.

Sharp.

Interrupting the moment.

“Ah, damn—class.”

“Let’s go, let’s go.”

“Teacher’s gonna kill us if we’re late again.”

The group scattered quickly, their earlier energy shifting into hurried movement as they grabbed their bags and rushed toward their classrooms.

Sora stayed where he was for a second longer.

His gaze drifted—once more—toward the dustbin.

Then away.

Without another thought, he turned and walked toward his class.

Behind him—

The corridor returned to normal.

Voices.

Footsteps.

Laughter.

And somewhere, near the stairwell—

A crumpled letter lay buried among others.

Unread.

Unwanted.

Forgotten.

Sora Kanzaki didn’t look back.

He never did.

And maybe…

That was the problem.

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