The morning sun poured gently into the silent classroom where Aruka sat, his head resting against his folded arms, lost in a quiet slumber. The soft light touched everything—the smooth green board at the front, the polished wooden desks, the open twin doors that welcomed the day with a breeze.
Thirty desks, thirty chairs. Each one meant for a single student. Orderly. Alone. Just like him.
The classroom was clean, almost too clean—its walls untouched by scribbles or dirt, a reflection of the students who walked its halls. This was no ordinary school. It was SPMT High—Students' Physical and Mental Training High School—an elite government institution built for the sharpest minds in the country India. Only those with an IQ over 110 passed its gate. It wasn't just a school; it was a symbol. No boards, no traditional system—just its own rhythm, its own way of sculpting futures. Sports, student councils, clubs—it had everything. Everything that someone like Aruka should have loved.
But he didn't.
It was only his fourth day, yet everything already felt… distant. Flat. The excitement he'd once imagined—the anime-like wonder of this world—wasn't there. What filled his chest instead was a quiet hollowness, a numb boredom. He had arrived too early again. The halls were empty, the rooms silent, save for the slow footsteps of the guards doing their rounds.
And Aruka… he just sat there, in the stillness, wondering why nothing stirred his heart.
A faint sound slipped into Aruka's ears—soft, deliberate footsteps echoing in the stillness. But he didn't lift his head. His eyes stayed half-shut, his body slouched in lazy defiance. He had already slept more than nine hours at home, yet he felt like he hadn't rested at all.
The footsteps drew closer, each one tapping gently against the smooth floor, closing the distance between silence and his desk. He expected a voice—maybe one of the loud guys trying to make early conversation—but none came. Instead, a figure quietly took the seat in front of him.
He slowly tilted his head, almost reluctantly, and caught a glimpse.
A girl.
She wore glasses that glinted under the sunlight, twin ponytails swaying slightly as she sat, her school uniform pristine—a crisp white shirt, black skirt, and black knee-high socks completing the look.
He could barely see her face—and truthfully, he didn't want to. His heart wasn't looking for surprises, not today.
"Good morning," came a sweet, soft voice, like the whisper of wind across calm water.
He didn't respond. He chalked it up to his imagination, his mind playing tricks to fill the silence.
But the voice came again, this time a little more clear. A little more real.
"Hey, can't you hear me?"
Aruka blinked, unsure if he should open his mouth or keep pretending he was still half-asleep.
Aruka finally lifted his head, his eyes meeting the girl sitting across from him. He expected an ordinary face, something he could glance at and forget. But what he saw caught him off guard.
She wasn't average. Not even close.
Her features were soft, delicate. Her glasses framed her eyes in a way that made them quietly expressive, and the morning light touched her skin with a gentle glow. There was a certain charm to her—subtle, but impossible to ignore. A kind of beauty that didn't demand attention, but invited it.
"Do you have a pencil?" she asked, her voice still calm, but he noticed her fingers fidgeting slightly, twisting at the hem of her skirt.
She was nervous. An introvert, clearly pushing herself to speak—while he, on the other hand, wasn't even interested in conversation. At least, that's what he told himself.
Without a word, Aruka reached into his bag, found a pencil, and held it out to her. She took it carefully.
"Thanks," she said quietly, turning to face forward again.
A beat of silence passed before Aruka spoke, his voice low but not cold.
"And… good morning. I forgot to reply when you greeted me."
She didn't turn back around, but he noticed the smallest lift at the edge of her lips. Just a little smile.
Maybe the morning wasn't so dull after all.
The rest of the day passed like a blur—quiet, uneventful, and forgettable.
Aruka's hair was as messy as ever, sticking out in odd directions. His shirt hung loosely, half tucked, and his tie was a crumpled afterthought. Maybe that's why no one talked to him after that girl in the morning. He didn't exactly give off the vibe of someone who wanted to be approached—and no one tried.
Classes came and went. Words floated around him, but none of them stuck. It was just another school day… long and lifeless.
When the final bell rang, he didn't waste a second.
He walked straight to the parking lot, picked up his cycle, and began the only part of the day he looked forward to. The path downhill from the school curved through quiet trees and open skies. The school had been built on a hilltop—not for the view, but for peace. To let the students breathe something purer than the dusty city air below.
As he pushed off and let gravity take control, the wind rushed past him, catching his hair, cooling his skin. He didn't have to pedal. Just glide.
For those few minutes, everything fell away—his boredom, the silence, even the loneliness.
This was the only thing that felt real.
Aruka was lost in his own flow, the wind brushing against his skin, eyes soft with the feeling of freedom. But then—
From the upper road, a figure leapt.
A girl.
Her black hair flowed behind her like silk, and she was dressed in pure white—so bright it almost shimmered against the fading sunlight. For a moment, she didn't look real. More like a vision… a goddess slipping down from the heavens.
Aruka blinked, staring in awe.
Then it hit him—literally.
She was right in his path.
"Hey! Get aside!"
Too late.
His hands fumbled for control, but the balance was already gone. The front wheel twisted, the bike jerked—and he tumbled straight into the wild grasses at the roadside, legs flailing, the world spinning.
Flat on his back, he spat out a blade of grass and scowled, looking like a ruffled, angry puppy. "Where do you think you're running?!" he barked, waving a hand in frustration.
But the girl—she wasn't even fazed.
She just… walked away. Calm, unbothered, like stepping out of someone's dream.
"You..." Aruka scrambled up and stormed after her, catching her wrist and spinning her around. "Why the hell did you jump from that road?! And why in front of me?! And now you're walking away like nothing happened!"
For the first time, her expression shifted—eyes widening just a little, her gaze drifting from his face to the hand gripping her wrist.
Then she said, softly, "Can you see me?"
Her voice… it wasn't just sweet. It was like a song from somewhere far away—melodic, distant, unreal.
Aruka frowned. "What the hell do you mean by that? Of course I can see your foolishness—you're not a ghost!"
She looked him straight in the eyes.
"I am a ghost."
Silence. Aruka's face twisted in a mix of confusion and irritation.
"You didn't believe me?" she asked, almost innocently. "I'm really a Ghost."
He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Do you think there's 'shithead' written on my forehead?"
She leaned a little closer, eyes squinting. "I can't see where."
That was it.
Aruka's eyebrows twitched. His frustration was boiling, but something about her calm madness… made it harder to be angry.
She glanced down at her wrist—red where he'd gripped it.
"Can you let go? It's already red," she said softly.
Aruka blinked, then released her hand with an annoyed sigh, scratching the back of his head. "Fucking hell…" he muttered under his breath, turning away.
He marched back toward the wild grass, pulling his cycle upright. The dust clung to his uniform, and his pride was already bruised. He just wanted to leave this madness behind.
But before he could push off, he felt a gentle tug on his sleeve.
He turned sharply. "What do you want now?" he snapped, still visibly frustrated.
"I can't let you go."
He stared at her, deadpan. "Ha?"
"I can't let you go," she repeated, her voice calm but unwavering. "You're the only one who can see me."
"Listen—" Aruka huffed, pulling his sleeve away. "I'm not here to play ghost games with you."
He grabbed the cycle, shoved it out of the grass, and climbed on. This time, he started pedaling—slowly, but steadily, wanting to put some distance between them. He didn't look back.
But just a minute later—
"Why are you pedaling so slow?"
The voice came from right behind him.
A chill ran down his spine.
He turned his head, heart skipping a beat—and there she was. Sitting on the back seat of his cycle like she belonged there, one hand resting casually on his shoulder.
"You again?! How?!"
She smiled, her hair fluttering in the breeze.
"As I said… I'm a ghost. I can go anywhere."