The room was silent, a plain bed and study desk dwarfed by stale, clinical white walls. Only colour on the walls were shelves that sagged under the weight of trophies and certificates. Academic excellence, perfect attendance, national math champion, each plaque gleamed under the cold fluorescent light, but their shine felt hollow, like stars too distant to warm her.

  Ahmya sat at her desk, her thick-framed glasses slipping down her nose as she hunched over a textbook, her pencil scratching equations with mechanical precision. Her long black hair fell in a curtain around her face, shielding her from the world beyond the page. The clock on the wall ticked, each second a race to achieve top mark.

  Downstairs, the clink of dishes echoed from the kitchen. Her mother’s voice cut through the stillness, crisp. “Ahmya! Dinner in five minutes. Don’t make us wait again.” The words weren’t a request, they were a command, laced with the expectation that Ahmya would obey, as she always did. Her father’s deeper tone followed, muffled but biting. “She’d better not be wasting time on those ridiculous manga's.”

  Ahmya’s hand paused, the pencil trembling against the paper. Her eyes flicked to the corner of her desk, where a half-finished project lay hidden beneath a notebook, a knot-twisted wooden stick, adorned with pink and red ribbons, its metal heart-shaped tip gleaming proudly. The Love Staff, she called it in her mind after her favourite manga, a secret talisman born from hours of carving and dreaming, while she secretly read her Magic Girl Manga.

  It was her escape, a piece of a world where someone might hold her hand, whisper her name with kindness, love her. But here, in this sterile family home, it was just another thing to hide.

  She closed her textbook, the thud echoing in the quiet room, and stood, smoothing her modest skirt. Her reflection caught in the mirror by the door, pale, unremarkable, her eyes too large behind her glasses, her expression a mask of practiced compliance. She pushed the Love Staff deeper under the notebook, her fingers lingering on its smooth wood, and headed downstairs.

  Dinner was a ritual of precision. The dining table, polished to a mirror sheen, held plates of meticulously arranged food, steamed fish, rice, pickled vegetables, each portion measured to her mother’s exacting standards. Her parents sat across from her, their faces carved from stone. Her father, a corporate lawyer, wore a suit even at home, his tie a noose of authority. Her mother, a university professor, sipped her tea, her eyes scanning Ahmya like a scanner reading code.

  “You scored 97 on your last exam, I have remarked on your teacher's scoring and she was being generous” her mother said, setting her cup down with a clink. “Why not 100? You know what’s at stake. The scholarship, the university, our reputation.”

  Ahmya’s throat tightened. “I… I tried, Mother. The questions were…”

  “No excuses,” her father interrupted, his voice a low growl. “You’re not some average girl. You’re our daughter. Act like it.” He didn’t look at her, his attention fixed on his plate, as if her presence was an inconvenience.

  Ahmya nodded, her hands folded tightly in her lap. “Yes, Father. I’ll do better.” The words were automatic, a script she’d memorized years ago.

  She ate in silence, the food tasteless, her mind drifting to the Love Staff, to the stories she read and wove in her head where she was more than a disappointment.

  After dinner, she retreated to her room, the door clicking shut like a vault sealing her in. She pulled the Love Staff from its hiding place, her fingers tracing the ribbons, the heart-shaped tip. In her mind, she stood in a sunlit meadow, a boy at her side, faceless, but kind, his hand warm in hers. “You’re enough,” he whispered, and her heart soared. But the fantasy shattered as her mother’s voice barked from downstairs, “Lights out in ten minutes!” Ahmya flinched, shoving the staff into her school bag, her chest aching with a longing she couldn’t name.

  The library at Hoshin Academy was Ahmya’s sanctuary, its shelves a fortress against the world. She sat in a corner, a stack of books on advanced calculus and literature at her side, her notebook filled with neat, precise notes. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of pages and the distant chatter of students in the hall. Ahmya preferred it this way, no eyes on her, no whispers about her plain appearance or her stutter when she dared speak.

  Her physics teacher, Mr. Tanaka, approached, a rare smile on his face. “Another perfect score, Ahmya,” he said, handing back her test. “You’re my best student in years. Keep this up, and you’ll have your pick of universities.”

  Ahmya’s cheeks warmed, but the praise felt like a pat on a dog’s head, kind, but fleeting. “Th-thank you, sensei,” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. Mr. Tanaka nodded and moved on, leaving her alone again. She opened a romance Magic Girl manga hidden inside her textbook, her eyes devouring the words. The heroine was bold, loved, chosen. Ahmya’s heart ached, she wanted that, needed it, but the world saw only her grades, not her.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  In the hallway, she overheard laughter. “That Ahmya girl? Total weirdo, was watching me making out with Kazuto” a girl’s voice sneered. “Always alone, muttering to herself. Bet she’s got no friends let alone get a boyfriend.”

  Another voice chimed in, “Yeah, and them thick, creepy glasses? Freak, won't ever have one.”

  “We need to get going or I’ll be late meeting Kazuto, he’s getting Takanashi and the rest of his boys to secure some alcohol for tonight's party” the first girl gloated.

  Ahmya’s grip tightened on her book, her face burning. She slipped deeper into the library, hiding behind a shelf, her breath shaky. They didn’t understand. No one did.

  The park was her refuge, a quiet grove at the edge of town where cherry blossoms drifted softly. Ahmya sat on a bench, the Love Staff across her lap, her fingers weaving new ribbons into its knots, her eyes fixed on a group of fellow students, role playing, acting, having funny and laughing together. “After we have conquered this level of the Fade, am sure the Duchess will return to us” she overheard

  The late afternoon sun painted the grass gold, and for a moment, she felt free. She closed her eyes, attempting to build confidence to approach them knowing she never will, she would offend imagined a boy sitting beside her, his laugh warm, his hand brushing hers. “You’re perfect,” he’d say, and she’d believe him.

  A boy passed by, maybe sixteen, his school bag slung over one shoulder. He glanced at her and smiled, a small, genuine smile that caught her off guard. Ahmya’s heart leapt, her lips parting to speak, but no words came. He walked on, unaware of the spark he’d ignited. She clutched the Love Staff, her mind racing. Maybe… maybe someone could see her.

  But as she left the park, she passed a group of younger year Hoshin students near the gate. Their laughter stopped when they saw her, replaced by whispers. “Look, it’s the loner,” one said, loud enough to sting.

  “What’s with that stick? Gonna cast a spell, even the Chunibyo over there think you're a weirdo?” They laughed, and Ahmya’s steps faltered.

  The warmth from the boy’s smile vanished, replaced by a cold weight in her chest. She hurried home, the Love Staff hidden under her jacket, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.

  The dining room was a battlefield that night. Ahmya’s latest test score 92 lay on the table like evidence of a crime. Her mother’s eyes were ice, her voice sharper than a blade. “This is unacceptable, Ahmya. Do you think universities accept mediocrity? You’re embarrassing us.”

  “I…I’m sorry,” Ahmya stammered, her hands trembling. “I studied, I..”

  Her father slammed his hand on the table, the sound like a gunshot. “Enough! You’re not trying hard enough. You’re wasting our investment.” He stood, towering over her. “Go to your room. No dinner. Maybe hunger will teach you discipline.”

  Mother crosses her arms “Maybe we should go back to the shock collar?” as her eyes focus on Ahmya.

  Ahmya’s vision blurred with tears, but she nodded, rising on shaky legs. As she turned, her mother grabbed her arm, nails digging into her skin. “And get rid of those ridiculous works of fiction. It’s a distraction.” Ahmya froze, her heart pounding.

  The Love Staff and her manga was her lifeline, her dream made real. She wrenched free and ran upstairs, slamming her door.

  In her room, she curled up on the floor, the Love Staff clutched to her chest. The tears came now, hot and unstoppable. “I’m trying,” she whispered to no one. “Why isn’t it enough?” The room felt smaller, the walls closing in. Her parents’ voices echoed in her head, their criticism a chorus of failure. The boy’s smile felt like a lie, the park a cruel illusion. The world didn’t want her.

  Something shifted inside her, a crack in the fragile shell of her mind. Her sobs quieted, her breathing steadied. She sat up, her eyes dry, her expression blank. A new voice spoke in her head, cold and clear “If they won’t love you, make them.” the words not entirely her own.

  At school the next day, Ahmya moved differently. Her steps were surer, her gaze sharper behind her glasses. In the hallway, a first year girl, one of the ones from the park, bumped into her, laughing. “Watch it, weirdo,” she said, expecting Ahmya to shrink away. But Ahmya didn’t. She stepped closer as the game show cameras focused on her, her voice low, steady. “Say that again.” The girl faltered, unnerved by the glint in Ahmya’s eyes, saved by the intercom as she hurried off.

  The intercom chimed. BingBong. “Yamamoto Kazuto, please report to the principal’s office,” the voice crackled over the intercom,

  In the library, Ahmya worked on her Love Staff openly, no longer hiding it as she attacked the final pieces, Mr Kubo passed by, pausing. “Ahmya, is everything alright, I saw what happened earlier?” he asked, concerned in his voice. She smiled, sweet but chilling. “Everything’s perfect, sensei,” she said, her stutter gone.

  Moments later, the room rumbles, screams echo and explosions rippled around the school. As the rumbling stopped, she as well as the others were ushered to the main hall, where the games first began.

  The air smelled of ash and metal, the walls scarred by cracks. That night, she sat alone in an abandoned room, the Love Staff across her lap, her head in her lap. “Am going to die alone, I hate this world,” choking on tears, “everything was worthless, I just want to know what love is” all of a sudden, she gripped the Love Staff, her fingers steady now, her lips curling into a faint, unfamiliar smile. “I’ll make my own world, I will get you love” she whispered, the shy Ahmya was still there, trembling in the corners of her mind, but the other Ahmya, the cold, commanding one, was growing stronger. She looked out her window, the destroyed town bathed in moonlight, and whispered, “Soon, I’ll be enough.”