Sparrows flew across the sky like waves, their wings carving trails through swirling clouds.

  Three of them.

  I lay on the grassy field, staring up.

  Pondering.

  Life is good here. It’s peaceful.

  The clouds swirled above me, slow and deliberate—like something was forming. Something divine.

  Something mysteriously magical. Most people would’ve panicked. They would freak out at such strange weather.

  But I didn’t. I didn’t care. I just watched.

  Because…

  A ray of light broke through the whirl, soft and golden, casting warmth across the land, sparkles of simmering light came down across—

  And onto me.

  I’m in Aura.

  The clouds parted like a heavenly gate, pouring golden-white light across the sky. The land below illuminated like a mirror, reflecting back to the sky.

  In the distance, a great tree stood tall—so wide it seemed to hold the island in balance—magnifying. Its golden leaves shimmered with vitality, and aura rained from its canopy like drizzling honey.

  I call it the Tree of Life. The Grand Tree? The world tree? Pretty much all the fitting names for it.

  Cliche? Plagiarizing? It didn’t matter as long as I liked it.

  A stream flowed beside it, glittering with liquid gold—carrying its golden essence. The sounds of tinkling and bubbling carried a gentle rhythm to my soft ears.

  Then, the trumpet of elephants rang through the air and across. Birds chirped as they flew over me.

  I sat up and stared in awe.

  “This is Aura.”

  ”A magical floating island.”

  From the horizon, the island floated, adrift in endless sky.

  Several clouds brushed through as if the island itself were flying.

  But no one could truly tell.

  Because—

  *SLURP!*

  A massive tongue just covered my face.

  “Leon!!!!!”

  I bolted upright, wiping away the slobber.

  Leon was a large wolf. He had silver-grey fur that shone in the dark. Three times my size, big enough to swallow me whole.

  But he wouldn’t.

  He was too much of a sweetheart. And we were friends.

  So instead, he kept licking my head, tail wagging furiously.

  “H-Hey—stop!!”

  I burst out laughing, rolling through the grass as he attacked me with overwhelming affection.

  ”Hahahaha!!!”

  Then he grabbed my shirt with his teeth and lifted me onto his back.

  He ran.

  “Yeah! Let’s goooooo!!!”

  Wind rushed past. The world blurred. I didn’t care where we were going.

  I just loved the feeling.

  —

  Kou…

  Suddenly a voice.

  A woman’s voice, calling for my name.

  Kou…!

  She was getting closer.

  “Kou!!!”

  I recognized her voice. She sounded familiar...

  She must be Re—

  KOU!!!

  My body jolted.

  I blinked. I was in class again.

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  Laughter erupted around me. My cheeks burned, I felt the heat of embarrassment crawling up my neck but I forced myself not to react.

  The teacher sighed in disbelief.

  “Since you seem to enjoy staring at the board so much, why don’t you answer the question I just explained?"

  My throat tightened. I had no idea what the question even was. I could not mutter a word.

  More laughter.

  “Kou’s a zombie! His eyes are open, but he’s totally dead inside!”

  “Nah, he’s possessed. Someone call an exorcist!”

  I stayed quiet.

  What was the point?

  This was normal. I was used to it.

  Daydreaming has always been my hobby, for as long as I could remember.

  I imagined myself in fantasy worlds, in adventures with my favorite superheroes, or even living in a cartoon with my fictional crush.

  But there’s one place I always go—Aura.

  My home. My safe haven.

  There’s another reason why I daydream.

  The school bell rang. It was time for lunch.

  ”Okay everyone, class dismissed! Don’t forget to be on time for your next class! Enjoy your lunch break!”

  The teacher finally exited the classroom. And then, barbaric chattering resumed.

  Some of the students left the classroom for the cafeteria while others stayed bringing their own lunch boxes.

  I also brought my own lunch box made by grandpa.

  Other students around me started to move their tables to form their usual groups while I stayed at the same place—barely moving an inch from my seat.

  I was eating all alone. But that’s okay, I am used to it.

  And I’m not sad! Because I’m not truly alone—not in the spiritual, not in the astral, not in Aura.

  I gently opened my lunch box. There was rice with omelette, broccoli and chicken. There were also three strawberries on the side with a small chocolate piece on top.

  It felt like a complete box! Grandpa always prepared the best lunch for me.

  I immediately took a bite.

  Yummm…

  Then another…

  “Tastes shoo good…” I murmured without realizing.

  Some students gave me a weird look but I didn’t notice.

  As I continued to dig into the fluffy omelette, my consciousness shifted again. This time, I was riding a giraffe across the rainbow.

  But there was a girl behind me—a woman. She looked a lot older than me.

  She had a very calm smile on her face. I’d never seen her before but she looked mysterious.

  Her blue ocean eyes were captivating as I stared—

  “Have I met you before…?”

  The next thing I noticed, lunch time was already over and my lunch box was completely emptied.

  I must have eaten everything without realizing.

  Students marched back into the classroom to get to their seats. Others were moving their tables around, back to their original places.

  I daydream all the time. Sometimes, I’m not even aware I’m in my body when it happens.

  Daydreaming has made my boring life feel exciting. It made my lonely heart feel like it belonged.

  For the rest of the class, I ended up dozing off on Aura pretending I was listening but my mind was constantly in wonderland.

  I lost my parents young. My mom died when I was nine—a terminal disease took her. My dad? No idea. I was too little to remember him.

  I had no friends either.

  The only people that are in my life right now are my grandpa and the worlds I escape to.

  I had just turned eleven three months ago, and I’ve never once stopped questioning the meaning of life.

  There’s so much I don’t understand about this human life.

  I don’t understand Earth.

  I don’t understand the point of living.

  Why are we forced to go to school?

  Why are we forced to learn mundane stuff when we could go on an adventure, exploring the world?

  Why are we forced to do something that we obviously don’t like doing?

  Why can’t we just have fun? What’s the point if life is mostly bitter and not fun?

  But the first time I really questioned school was when I cried…

  I cried because of a TV show.

  Not just because it was sad, but because I understood it too deeply—like it was speaking to something inside me that my human mind couldn’t fully comprehend.

  I wasn’t just sensitive or emotional…

  There was something complex about my feelings—something deeper than I could explain. Sometimes, it felt like my emotions weren’t just a part of me, but their own living entity.

  That connection didn’t just end when the screen turned off. I carried it with me.

  I got so emotionally attached to the story, to its fantasy world, that I found myself daydreaming about it—crying in the middle of class.

  Sometimes, I didn’t even realize I was crying until I felt the water pooling on my desk.

  To me, it was nothing shameful. This was normal. But the school framed it the other way around.

  Everyone stared at me. Whispered about me. Called me weird.

  The teacher looked down at me and said,

  ”Crying in class again, Kou? This has been happening quite frequently.”

  “You know it's not good for a boy to cry? Especially in public spaces.”

  For the first time, I spoke back. Or, to be more precise—I corrected her.

  “There’s nothing wrong with crying,” I said.

  “It’s a natural emotion. I’m not hurting anyone. What does being a boy have to do with it?”

  “You are disrupting my class and no one wants to see a crying man.”

  “Boys need to learn to be tough and strong.”

  ”They need to learn to protect others.”

  ”You should look at your dad as your role model.”

  “I don’t have a dad…”

  The teacher paused for a moment, caught off guard. But she didn’t stop.

  “Well, you should still stop crying in class.” She persisted.

  “No.” I responded firmly. I was confident because I knew I wasn’t doing anything wrong.

  “I don’t see the problem, Miss Valentine. I’m not making any noises.”

  I stared into her eyes like an arrow at Achilles—firm and precise, unmoving.

  The teacher was taken back. Frustrated, her tone became louder and demeaning.

  ”Are you a sissy boy? Or are you a girl? If you don’t want to be called one, I’d suggest you start acting like a real boy.”

  “But you teach gender equality in class,” I pointed out.

  “Isn’t it discrimination to tell boys not to cry? Doesn’t that go against everything you teach?”

  The students let out a loud, drawn-out ‘wooo!’ It was a pleasant surprise to see them cheering for me for the first time or maybe it was just for their amusement.

  ”QUIET!” She shouted

  The teacher’s anger grew further. I could see her patience slipping.

  But I didn’t back down. I wanted to understand. Why was crying only bad for boys?

  It didn’t make sense.

  If we are born in bodies that are capable of crying, why are we told to suppress it?

  The teacher’s voice hardened.

  “Yes, gender equality is important, but there’s a limit. You can’t have everything be completely equal. For example, a girl can get pregnant and a boy can’t—shouldn’t that be equal too? But it can’t.”

  I frowned. That had nothing to do with crying.

  “But a boy can cry,” I said firmly.

  “A boy has the same ability to feel emotions as a girl does. Pregnancy and crying aren’t the same thing. I don’t see how it’s bad for a boy to cry. I only see it as gender discrimination.”

  “‘Woooo!’ The class erupted again—half amusement, half genuine support.”

  She pointed toward the hallway. “Kou, OUTSIDE! NOW!”

  But I didn’t move.

  “Why?” I asked calmly.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong. I was just speaking the truth.”

  “Go. NOW.”

  “No.”

  “Or I’ll send you to the principal’s office.”

  I nodded. “That’s fine. I still did nothing wrong.”

  Furious, the teacher gave up and returned to her seat.

  I don’t normally stand up for myself. I’m usually quiet and timid. I avoid people.

  I’m quiet not because I’m shy or embarrassed talking to others.

  I just never felt safe being me around others.

  But when the teacher told me my tears were bad, I felt so… personally attacked. Like something inside me just rose up on its own—

  As if it had a will of its own, forcing me to fiercely defend myself.