It was quiet in the dormitory halls.
The kind of quiet that isn't peace, but emptiness.
Most of the academy was asleep, dreaming of the lives they would lead as great mages, heroes, and leaders. But Akio Mune was not among them.
He sat alone on the wooden floor of his cramped, dimly lit room. The curtains were drawn shut, suffocating the space in darkness, save for the faint glow of a nearly burned-out candle on his desk.
His back was hunched, his knees pulled close, and his trembling hands clutched a single wand.
It was pitifully plain—simple wood, splintered along one side, chipped at the tip. There were no carvings, no shining runes, no mark of a mage who had earned distinction.
The only thing it carried was the weight of years of desperate hope... and utter failure.
Akio stared at it the way a starving human stares at empty hands.
His lips moved faintly, mumbling words he no longer even heard.
It was as if he were trapped in a conversation only he could hear, begging for an answer that would never come.
"Why won't you work for me?" His voice broken, hoarse from hours of whispering in solitude. "Why... won't you listen? I gave you everything. Every breath, every thought, every dream I had—everything was for magic. For this."
The wand did not respond.
It never had.
Akio's dull brown eyes were bloodshot from sleepless nights, dark circles etched beneath them. His face had grown pale and thin, his lips chapped, his hair a messy black tangle that hadn't been combed in days.
There had once been a spark in those eyes—a childish excitement when he first spoke of magic, of wonder and possibility. Now, only bitterness remained, carved deep by years of unrelenting pain.
He lowered his head until his forehead pressed against the wood of the wand, his voice slipping into a broken whisper.
"I just wanted... to be a mage."
A Dream That Began in Innocence
When Akio was six, he had stood in a sunlit field, staring in awe as a traveling mage conjured birds of fire that soared like living creatures. The crowd around him clapped and gasped, their faces lit with wonder.
But none were as enraptured as Akio. His tiny hands had stretched upward toward the glowing flames, as if he could grab hold of them.
"Someday," he had said, his voice high and earnest, "I'll make magic like that too."
It was the first time he had ever felt a dream burn so brightly inside him.
When he turned eight, the day of the Magic Awakening Ceremony came. It was the moment when every child first discovered their magical aptitude—a day filled with laughter, pride, and celebration.
Parents gathered in the courtyard, cheering as their children performed their first real spells.
When Akio's turn came, his mother stood at the back, smiling nervously.
He gripped his brand-new wand with trembling excitement. This was it. The first step toward his dream.
He spoke the words of the simplest spell. A soft wind stirred the air.
A spark flickered weakly at the tip of his wand...
Then it died.
The crowd murmured.
The teacher frowned, tilting her head. "Try again," she urged gently.
Akio nodded, his cheeks flushed. He tried again. And again.
Each attempt was weaker than the last.
The murmurs turned to whispers.
Whispers to laughter.
Laughter to outright ridicule.
One child snickered, "He can't even light a candle!"
Another joined in, "What kind of mage will he be? None!"
Even adults began whispering behind their hands.
His mother's tense smile fell into a look of quiet shame.
Akio's heart cracked that day, though he didn't know it yet.
He went home swearing he would train harder, study longer, practice until he mastered magic through sheer willpower.
But no matter how many nights he stayed awake, no matter how many times his voice grew hoarse from chanting incantations, nothing worked.
The Academy Years
Despite his failure, Akio refused to give up. At age twelve, he enrolled in the Royal Magic Academy—a place where only the best and brightest studied to become the future pillars of magical society.
He had believed, foolishly, that a miracle might happen there. That among other aspiring mages, he would find his place.
Instead, the academy became his personal hell.
On the very first day, during the entrance exam, his classmates conjured swirling torrents of fire and water, dazzling the evaluators with their raw potential.
When Akio's turn came, his spell barely produced a puff of smoke before vanishing. The evaluators exchanged weary glances.
One teacher muttered under his breath, "No potential whatsoever."
The other students snickered.
By the time classes began, the whispers had evolved into open mockery.
"Hey, Mune," a kid jeered one afternoon as they left the lecture hall. "Why bother carrying a wand? Decoration?"
"Maybe he's just a janitor pretending to be a mage," another sneered.
Akio lowered his head and said nothing. He never said anything. The more silent he became, the bolder they grew.
They shoved him in hallways.
Stole his books.
Tripped him in front of teachers, who turned a blind eye because even they disliked him.
When Akio's roommate finally requested a transfer, citing that Akio was "too depressing" and "a talentless wreck," the teacher signed the paper without hesitation.
Akio overheard their conversation through the door.
"Frankly," the teacher said, "we're all tired of dealing with him. Let him rot alone."
From that day on, Akio's room became a prison.
He rarely left during daylight hours, only venturing into the halls at night when everyone else was asleep.
Even the bullies eventually forgot he existed, satisfied that their cruelty had driven him into hiding.
The Eight Magic Council
The final, cruelest blow came when he was summoned before the Eight Magic Council, the most revered figures in the magical world.
Their chamber was vast and awe-inspiring, filled with floating crystals and ancient runes glowing with unimaginable power.
For a brief, trembling moment, Akio thought maybe—just maybe—they would see something in him that others hadn't.
That they might offer him guidance, or at least compassion.
But when he lifted his head and met their eyes, he saw only disgust.
"Why was he even summoned?" one council member muttered to another.
"A waste of resources," another replied coldly.
"He has a core but no talent. A mistake of nature."
Their words were quiet, but Akio heard every syllable.
The audience ended swiftly, and he was dismissed without a second glance.
From that moment on, any shred of hope he had clung to was gone.
The Night of the End
Now, sitting alone in his dark room, Akio turned the memories over and over in his mind like shards of broken glass.
His breathing grew ragged as he whispered to himself.
"No one wants me here... no one ever did. I've been nothing but a stain on their perfect world."
The whispers of his tormentors echoed in his skull, louder and louder.
Failure. Worthless. Filth.
He pressed his hands over his ears, but the voices only grew.
Something inside him snapped.
With a guttural scream, Akio kicked over his chair, sending it crashing against the wall.
He swept his desk clear with one violent motion, books and candles tumbling to the floor. The flame extinguished, plunging the room into total darkness.
Panting, shaking, he stumbled backward until his legs gave out.
He collapsed to the floor, his wand clattering beside him.
Tears streamed freely now.
He whispered one last time, his voice barely audible.
"I just... wanted to be a mage."
His body stilled.
The room fell silent, save for the faint sound of his final, shuddering breath.
Rebirth
At first, there was nothing.
Then—a blinding light, warm and foreign.
A rush of sound: strange humming, distant voices, the roar of... something he couldn't name.
Akio gasped, jolting upright.
He was lying in a bed—a bed that wasn't his. The sheets were clean, the mattress soft.
The room around him was unlike anything he had ever seen.
Smooth white walls.
Posters of incomprehensible symbols.
Strange glowing objects sitting atop a desk.
Heart pounding, he scrambled to his feet, stumbling over a smooth, cold floor.
Panic seized him as he spun in circles, searching for something familiar.
"Mother? Father?" he cried, his voice breaking. "Where... where am I?!"
There was no answer.
He stumbled toward a mirror on the far wall—and froze.
The face staring back was not his.
The kid in the reflection looked similar, with black hair and pale skin, but his features were subtly different.
Softer. Younger. Unfamiliar.
Akio's breath hitched. His hands rose to his face, touching skin that wasn't his own.
"No... no, this... this isn't me."
His knees buckled, and he fell to the floor.
The Truth of Madaki Ukio
In the hours that followed, Akio explored the room in a daze, searching for answers.
He found books, journals, and letters—fragments of another life.
Through them, he pieced together the story of the kid whose body he now inhabited: Madaki Ukio.
Ukio had once been happy, surrounded by family who adored him.
But on his very first day of school, everything changed.
His odd, shy personality drew the attention of cruel classmates.
They mocked him in the courtyard, humiliated him in front of everyone.
That single day of torment was enough to shatter his trust in the world.
Ukio never returned to school.
His parents, overwhelmed by shame and frustration, withdrew their affection.
Neighbors avoided him. Friends vanished.
Alone and unloved, Ukio spiraled into despair.
The final piece of his story lay in a crumpled note Akio found beneath the bed.
The handwriting was messy, jagged, the paper stained with dried tears.
"Nobody loves me. Nobody cares.
I don't want to exist anymore."
Akio's hands trembled as he read the words.
Hot tears blurred his vision.
"He... he was just like me," Akio whispered.
The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.
He wasn't the only one who had suffered.
There were others—countless others—who had felt the same crushing isolation. But he knew that truth. But never faced it as he was dealing with the same kinda thing.
As he clutched the note to himself, Akio made a vow.
"This life... this second chance... I won't waste it. Ukio's story doesn't have to end like mine did."
Akio—or rather, Madaki Ukio now—looked out the window at the vast, modern cityscape beyond.
Neon lights glimmered like stars.
The streets buzzed with life and noise unlike anything from his old world.
Somewhere out there, others were suffering as he once had.
And somewhere within himself, a fragile ember of hope began to glow.
This was a new world.
A new story.
And perhaps, at long last, a chance to heal.
The episode ended with Akio staring at the horizon, tears streaming down his face—not of despair, but of determination.
"Even in another world, pain exists," he whispered.
"But maybe... so does hope."
The screen faded to black.
The title appeared in white letters against the darkness:
Tears of the Otherworldly Heart.
The Shattered Wand, the Broken Soul (Part 2)
The strange new world was too bright. Too loud.
Akio shielded his eyes as he stepped outside for the first time since awakening in this unfamiliar being.
The streets were paved with black stone smoother than glass, and strange metal beasts roared past on wheels, carrying people inside themselfs. Buildings soared impossibly high, covered in glowing signs and moving images. The air smelled strange—smoky yet sharp, mixed with scents of food he couldn't name.
Everywhere he looked, people bustled by, speaking words that felt familiar yet alien.
Akio's breath caught in his throat.
His entire old world had been castles, cobblestone streets, and candlelight. Magic was the heart of everything.
But here... there was no magic. Only strange tools, strange lights, and people who didn't even glance at him.
It felt like standing on another planet.
He pressed himself against the side of the building, clutching the straps of the worn backpack he'd found in Ukio's room. His hands were trembling.
"I can't... do this," he whispered. "This world doesn't even make sense."
But staying inside forever wasn't an option either. He couldn't hide the way Ukio had.
If he was to live again, he had to face this new life.
The Ghost of Ukio
As he walked the streets, fragments of memories that weren't his flickered in his mind.
Ukio's memories.
A little kid laughing with his parents as they shared warm meals together.
A small hand clutching a schoolbag, eyes wide with excitement for his first day of school.
Then—pain.
A circle of children pointing, laughing, voices sharp and cruel.
"Freak!"
"Weirdo!"
"Why do you act so creepy, Madaki?"
Ukio's young face twisted in confusion and hurt. He had only been trying to talk to them.
Trying to be kind.
The memory darkened.
Ukio sitting alone in his room, refusing to leave the house.
His parents' voices outside the door, once warm, now cold and impatient.
"Why won't he just go back to school?"
"He's hopeless. Embarrassing."
Ukio's world shrank until it was nothing but four walls and silence.
By the time he was twelve, he was a ghost—alive in body, but dead inside.
And then, one night, he drank poison.
Akio clutched his t-shirt as the memory faded, tears stinging his eyes.
"No wonder he... no wonder he gave up," he whispered. "He was just like me."
He thought back to his own final night, when he had lain on his dorm room floor with no one who cared whether he lived or died.
Two different worlds, two different kids, but the same crushing loneliness.
Akio stopped walking and wiped his eyes roughly.
"No more," he said, voice shaking. "Ukio couldn't fight back... but I will. I won't waste this chance."
The Decision to Return to School
Back at the apartment, Akio sifted through Ukio's belongings again, searching for clues about his life.
Among the scattered papers, he found a letter addressed to "Madaki Ukio." The neat, formal handwriting stood out against the messy scrawls of Ukio's personal notes.
It was from a school.
The letter stated that Ukio had been absent for two months without explanation.
They had tried contacting his parents, but they hadn't responded.
It warned that if Ukio didn't return soon, he would be expelled.
Akio's hands tightened around the paper.
Two months...
That meant Ukio's death had gone completely unnoticed by the outside world.
No one had even come to check on him.
The thought made Akio's stomach churn with anger and sorrow.
But there was something else: a strange determination.
Ukio had fled from the world, but Akio wasn't Ukio.
He wouldn't hide—not anymore.
"I'll go," he said firmly, surprising even himself.
"If they all abandoned you, Ukio... then I'll go in your place. I'll face them for you."
The Return
The next morning, Akio dressed in the school uniform he found hanging in the closet.
It felt awkward and unfamiliar—stiff fabric, strange shoes—but he managed.
He tied Ukio's scarf around his neck, pausing to stare at himself in the mirror.
The kid who stared back was both Akio and not Akio.
Madaki Ukio's face... but with Akio's weary, determined eyes.
He walked to school through crowded streets, each step heavier than the last.
The closer he got, the more Ukio's memories clawed at his mind—memories of fear, humiliation, and despair.
When the school finally came into view, Akio's breath caught.
It was massive, made of gleaming white stone and glass, nothing like the castle-like academy he'd known before.
Children and teenagers clustered in groups, laughing and chatting as they walked inside.
Akio swallowed hard and forced himself through the gates.
Every laugh, every whisper felt like a blade against his skin.
But he kept walking.
Whispers and Stares
The moment he stepped into the building, the air shifted.
Students glanced up from their conversations, eyes widening.
Then came the whispers.
"Isn't that Madaki?"
"No way... I thought he dropped out."
"Didn't he disappear for, like, two months? What a freak."
"Why's he back? He looks even weirder now."
Akio's fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms.
He had endured whispers like these before, in another life.
But hearing them now, with Ukio's memories flooding his mind, was like being stabbed twice over.
He kept his head down and walked quickly, trying to ignore them.
He told himself it didn't matter.
He wasn't here to be liked. He was here to live.
The Bullies Return
He almost made it to his classroom when a sharp voice rang out behind him.
"Well, well, well. Look who crawled out of his hole."
Akio froze.
The voice was unfamiliar to him, but Ukio's memories surged with terror.
Slowly, he turned.
A group of four teens stood in the hallway, blocking his path.
Their uniforms were immaculate, their expressions smug.
The leader, a tall kid with slicked-back hair and a cruel smirk, stepped forward.
"Well? Aren't you gonna say something, Madaki? Or are you still mute like last time?"
Akio's throat went dry.
Ukio's body trembled, instinctively remembering every beating, every cruel word these boys had ever inflicted.
The leader's smirk widened.
"You've got some nerve showing your face here after disappearing for two whole months. Did you think we'd just... forget about you?"
The other teens laughed.
One mimicked Ukio's shy, awkward stammer, exaggerated to the point of cruelty.
Another shoved him lightly, just enough to make him stumble.
"Where've you been, huh? Hiding under your parents guidance?" one sneered.
"Oh wait," another said with mock pity, "I heard even your parents gave up on you. Guess you've got nowhere to run now."
Akio's heart pounded.
In his old life, he would have lowered his head and taken it.
He would have stayed silent, hoping it would end quickly.
But now... now he was in Ukio's body.
And Ukio had died because he hadn't fought back.
Akio's hands shook, but he forced himself to meet the leader's eyes.
"I'm not the same as before," he said quietly.
His voice was low, but there was a sharpness to it that made the bullies pause for a split second.
Then the leader laughed.
"You're not the same? Please. You're still the same pathetic freak we left behind."
He grabbed Akio by the collar and slammed him against the wall.
The impact knocked the breath from his lungs, pain blooming across his back.
"You think you can just come back and pretend you belong here?" the leader hissed.
"No one wants you here. No one cares if you disappear again."
Ukio's memories screamed in Akio's mind—memories of this exact moment, this exact pain.
But beneath the fear, a spark of anger flared.
Akio's eyes burned with tears, but his voice was steady.
"You're right," he said. "No one cared before.
But I do. I care.
And I won't let you erase me."
Before the leader could react, Akio shoved him backward with all his strength.
The bully stumbled, his smug expression twisting into shock.
The hallway went silent.
Every nearby student stared, wide-eyed.
For the first time in either of his lives, Akio had fought back.
The Aftermath
The leader's shock quickly turned to fury.
"You little—!"
He lunged, fist raised.
Akio braced himself, but before the punch landed, a teacher's voice cut through the air.
"What's going on here?!"
The bullies froze.
The teacher stormed over, glaring at the group.
The leader quickly switched to fake innocence.
"Nothing, sir. We were just welcoming Madaki back.
He... uh... tripped."
Akio opened his mouth to protest, but the teacher's cold eyes silenced him.
They didn't believe him.
Just like in his old world, authority figures turned a blind eye.
"Get to class," the teacher snapped.
"All of you."
The bullies smirked as they walked away, one whispering, "See you later, freak."
Akio stood trembling, fists clenched.
Nothing had changed.
Not really.
But deep inside, he knew this was only the beginning.
He wouldn't let Ukio's story end in silence.
If he had to fight this entire world, he would.
Closing Scene
As he sat alone at his desk later, Akio traced the nameplate that read "Madaki Ukio."
He thought of the teen whose body he now inhabited—the teen who had suffered silently until the very end.
"I'll live for both of us," Akio whispered.
"No matter what it takes."
The camera pulled back, showing the bustling classroom around him, filled with laughter and life he had been denied in two worlds.
The episode ended on Akio's determined, tear-streaked face as the screen faded to black.
TO BE CONTINUED...