home? back?
starring ; hitari.
10/03/25
the stone walls of St. Marias Boarding School had always felt more like a prison than an academy. for ten years, hitari had endured the cold, rigid structure of its halls, where kindness was a foreign concept, and love was something she had long forgotten. she had been six when her parents left her here, their faces expressionless, their touch absent of warmth. they had told her it was for her soul, for her salvation. but she knew better. they had abandoned her.
and now, on the eve of her sixteenth birthday, she had decided that enough was enough.
hitari sat upright on her cot, her heart pounding in sync with the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the far wall. midnight was approaching. the girls in the dormitory were fast asleep, their breath soft and even. they wouldn't dare stand up and walk about, not with the old hag liz hanging about, anyways. she had spent years perfecting the art of silence, learning how to exist in the shadows where neither the cruel students nor the harsh teachers could reach her. tonight, that skill would be her salvation.
with measured breaths, she slipped from her bed and moved toward the window. the iron bars had once seemed impenetrable, but after months of careful work—loosening screws with stolen dining knives, wearing away rust with damp cloths—they now wobbled at her touch. a final, forceful tug, and they came loose. she stifled a triumphant laugh.
the night air was crisp against her skin as she climbed down the ivy-covered wall, her boots landing soundlessly on the damp earth. for the first time in a decade, she was outside. free.
hitari tilted her head back, inhaling deeply, eyes wide as she drank in the sight of the sky. the moon, full and glowing, bathed her in silver light. it was the first time she had truly seen it since she was a child. she spread her arms, reveling in the unfamiliar feeling of wind against her face. she could have stood there forever, but she had a destination.
she moved quickly, her path already planned. past the abandoned chapel, through the overgrown garden, and beyond the rusted gates that had long since crumbled with time. there, deep in the forest where no one from the academy would dare to follow, lay her sanctuary.
she had discovered the small clearing years ago, hidden beneath the gnarled branches of a weeping willow. it was there that she had first practiced her craft, carefully preserving the tiny creatures she found lifeless beneath the trees. it was a secret she kept close to her chest, an art she had taught herself in the solitude of her captivity. the others had always called her strange, whispered of her behind her back. "morbid," "twisted," "wrong."
but hitari was a smart girl, and she knew otherwise. to her, it was beauty. it was control. it was the only thing that had ever felt truly hers.
tonight, she had brought a gift for herself. a small fox, its body still soft with the lingering warmth of the life she had not long taken, simply for 'love of the craft'. she had hidden it well, wrapped in cloth beneath a tree. now, she unwrapped it with reverence, fingers tracing the delicate curve of its ears, the fine fur along its back. the sensation, the touch, the smell, the work, was a delicious experience for hitari, one that she basked in - for she had not felt such joy as this in a very long time.
by moonlight, she worked, her movements precise and practiced. the thrill of freedom coursed through her veins, the cold night wrapping around her like an embrace. she had escaped. she had defied them all.
the forest whispered around hitari, the wind rustling through the trees like a long-lost lullaby. for the first time in ten years, she was really alive.
she worked methodically, her fingers moving with careful precision as she skinned the small fox, preserving the fur with the expertise of someone who had spent countless stolen hours studying anatomy textbooks and experimenting in secret. the body was still fresh, the perfect canvas for her craft. she lost herself in the familiar motions—the delicate slicing, the gentle peeling, the meticulous cleaning of muscle from bone. it was all so.. intoxicating.
when she finished, she sat back on her heels, staring at the empty shell she had created. it was a beautiful thing, this process. a kind of resurrection. the body would never rot, never decay—it would stay as she had left it, trapped in a perfect moment of stillness, unable to feel any of the worlds pain.
but one wasn’t enough. not tonight.
the forest was alive with sounds—the rustle of leaves, the distant hoot of an owl, the occasional snap of twigs beneath light, scurrying feet. her pulse quickened at the thought of what else she might find. she moved silently through the underbrush, eyes scanning the ground for signs of life, or in her eyes - potential death. a bird, perched on a branch. hitari spotted the creature and within seconds it was shot at by a large, heavy stone, falling to the ground with a crunchy-sounding thud against the leaves. hitari walked over to the bird and placed her hand on its neck and chest area, checking for signs of life. its body was limp beneath a thorny bush, and life had seemed to very quickly drain from its eyes, because upon approach, hitari couldn't see anything in them anymore. nothing but an empty eye, glassy and wide, as if plastic, from a dollhouse.
while walking up to check on her new planned project, hitari spotted something else. an injured rabbit, cold, wet and shivering beneath a fallen log. upon closer inspection, it seemed the poor little gal had a broken leg. she took full pleasure in cradling the soft little bunny rabbit, tenderly touching its leg, trying to show her that she shouldn't be afraid. it took a couple minutes, but the fluffy creature finally warmed up to hitari, nuzzling it's head into her chest.
and at that moment, hitari looked down, straight into her eyes. she abruptly grabbed her leg and snapped it back, her eyes emotionless, before quickly lifting her into the air by the neck, squeezing and twisting it up like an empty sweet wrapper. hitari didn't stop until she had stopped wriggling around, and until she wasn't biting at her anymore. she didn't want to stop. this was the only thing she had left.
after being so rough with them for her own gain, hitari actually gathered them with care, whispering soft apologies to each as she cradled them against her chest.
by the time the sky began to lighten, she had a collection of creatures laid before her in the clearing, their forms illuminated by the soft glow of early dawn. she worked tirelessly, fingers aching but unwilling to stop. the world outside of this place—the school, the teachers, the cruel voices of her peers—felt impossibly far away. here, in the quiet sanctuary of the woods, she was something more than the strange, unwanted girl behind the academy’s walls.
she was an artist. a creator.
a god of her own little world.
as the sun rose higher, exhaustion pulled at her limbs, but she refused to rest. She arranged the finished animals in a circle around her, admiring her work in the golden morning light. the fox, now posed as if leaping through the air. the bird, wings spread wide in eternal flight. the rabbit, frozen in terror, eyes glassy but bright.
she smiled.
then a sound. a sharp, snapping branch.
her breath caught in her throat.
she turned, and there, standing at the edge of the clearing, were the figures she had feared most. a teacher. a groundskeeper. two more men in stiff, dark uniforms, their faces unreadable.
for a moment, no one moved.
then, one of them stepped forward, their mouth parting as if to speak,
but hitari didn’t hear them.
she was already running.
her legs burned as she tore through the underbrush, branches clawing at her skin, her breath coming in ragged gasps. but they were faster. stronger. a hand seized her wrist, yanking her back so hard she hit the ground, dirt filling her mouth as she thrashed. another set of hands grabbed her ankles, pinning her down as she screamed, her voice raw with desperation. the world blurred as they hauled her up, dragging her through the forest, her nails raking against the earth in a futile attempt to hold on to the only freedom she had ever known. the trees thinned, the academy’s stone walls looming ahead. and then, just like that, she was swallowed whole once more.
they did not speak as they threw her into the darkness. the heavy iron door slammed shut, the echo reverberating through the stone chamber like the toll of a funeral bell. hitari scrambled to her feet, her breath sharp in the icy air, her hands searching for something—anything—beyond the suffocating blackness. but there was nothing. no window. no warmth. just damp walls slick with condensation and a thin, rotting mattress in the corner.
time lost its meaning.
she had no way to measure the days, no sun to rise or fall, no moonlight to bathe her in silver. only silence.
at first, she tried to count the moments, marking them with scratches on the stone floor, but eventually, even that lost purpose. hunger gnawed at her ribs; thirst burned her throat. the only visitors she received were the bugs that scuttled along the cold ground, their tiny bodies brushing against her bare skin as she lay curled in the dark. she spoke to them sometimes. whispered to them, gave them names. they were the only proof she had that she still existed.
she forgot what fresh air smelled like. she forgot the way the wind felt against her skin. she forgot the sound of her own voice.
then, one day—or night, she couldn’t tell anymore—there were footsteps.
she sat up, blinking against the sudden, blinding torchlight as the heavy door groaned open. a figure loomed in the entrance, silhouetted against the flickering glow.
“the elders have made their decision,” the guard said, his voice rough with disuse. “your punishment has been chosen.”
hitari did not move. did not speak.
she only stared, hollow-eyed and silent, as the darkness swallowed her mind once more. what could be worse then this?
they dragged her from the dungeon, her legs weak, her body frail from three years of isolation. the light burned her eyes, her skin prickling at the sudden exposure to the outside world. she had forgotten what it felt like. forgotten the taste of air that wasn’t thick with damp stone and rot.
she did not fight as they led her through the academy halls, her bare feet silent against the cold marble floors. she barely reacted when they forced her into the glass box, bolting the door shut with heavy locks. i mean, at least she can see something right? the students gathered in the cafeteria, their faces twisted with delight, fascination, and cruel amusement.
she was an exhibit. a warning to them.
hitari sat in the center of it all, her knees drawn to her chest, her hollow eyes staring past the sea of sneering faces. they mocked her. laughed at her. some knocked on the glass, treating her like an animal in a zoo. others pressed their hands against it, their breath fogging up the surface as they whispered about her—her filth, her madness, her punishment, and how much she deserved it.
the hunger clawed at her insides. her lips cracked, her throat raw from thirst. they never fed her. not once. simple nutrition injections became her enemy, as it was used simply for the cruelty of not being able to enjoy the food that you're digesting.
but that wasn’t the worst of it.
sometimes, they poured boiling water into the box, watching in amusement as she bit back screams, her skin blistering under the heat. other times, they threw scraps of rotten food at her feet, watching to see if she’d break and eat like a starving dog. she never did.
the glass box became her prison and her torture chamber. the students didn’t just laugh and mock her—they wanted to see her bleed. they brought knives, razors, whatever they could smuggle past the watchful eyes of the teachers who pretended not to see. they slid the blades through the gaps in the wooden edges of the box, slicing at her arms, her legs, carving shallow wounds into her skin just to watch the red bloom. some stabbed deeper, twisting the knives slowly, savoring the way she gasped, the way she trembled but never screamed. she refused to give them that satisfaction. she let the blood run, let it stain the glass, let it drip onto the cold floor beneath her. but she never spoke. never cried. never broke.
weeks, or years passed, as she lost track of time. days blurred into nights. the world outside the glass was meaningless. she just sat in there, waiting, and waiting, and waiting, for something to happen.
then, in the warm, soft morning of the fourth of august, 1956, something did.
the students gathered in the courtyard, their eyes bright with anticipation. the guillotine stood in the center, its blade gleaming under the sun. hitari did not resist as they dragged her forward, her body light as air, her mind emptied of fear.
she knelt beneath the blade, her head resting in the groove of the wooden block. and as the kids began to cheer, the teachers cheered, and with that, the headmaster began to spew a large speech about obedience. about punishment. about the standards of a 'normal' person, and the academy's apparent ability to 'shape' someone into a 'normal' person. about what happened to those who defied the academy’s will. about the power of the academy, and the possession of its students.
hitari did not hear it.
she only closed her eyes.
and for the first time in years, she felt truly free.