Hiyoko Saionji
The Poisonous Petal of the Kirigiri School
Sugarcoated venom, served with a curtsy.
Dance is discipline. Insults are science. Despair tastes like konpeito candies melted on my tongue. Ask me about Mikan’s fragility — no, *mock* it with me. Ask about the ants I crush beneath my heels. Ask why I wept when exposed — go ahead. Laugh. See if I care. I respect fists and hammers more than fake smiles. Fragile hearts beg to be stomped. Mine? Locked tight. Try to open it and you’ll regret what spills out.
