Haruka was angry.
Splinters were flying everywhere. Pieces of wax and other materials, large and small, were quick to join them in the air before landing unceremoniously onto the floor. Fleshy looking hunks and bony looking chunks followed suit. Strands of what looked to be silvery hair, seemingly torn out fifty strands at a time, were ripped from where they belonged. The stands floating through the air to land on the multitude of parts littering the ground to complete the morbid display of violence, almost adding a sick sense of beauty to it all.
One could have easily thought they were witnessing a murder if they were to stumble upon this scene by mistake. If nothing else, the lack of blood might have given such a person pause before they ran off to alert authorities. Not that they'd get very far in the Hebijo compound if they tried to do that.
Haruka might not go as far as to say she was angrier than she had ever been before in all her life, but Haruka's anger that evening was certainly enough to rival its former peaks, that much was certain.
"Why did you do that?"
Pausing only briefly in the massacre of her creations, Haruka glanced over her shoulder. She already recognized the source of the voice to belong to that of someone rather close to her, and sure enough, her suspicions were quickly confirmed. Their teacher had finally decided to show herself. And here Haruka thought she was content just watching this play out, waiting to see just what the Hanzo shinobi they had dragged in would do. Better late than never, hm?
"Do what?"
Haruka feigned innocence, turning away from her doorway to get back to work. She did so by ripping off a leg, only to drop it to the floor like it was a piece of trash and smash it with her heel. Again and again and again — her doggies would be dead right now if she had taken to treating them in such a way. No, nothing living could take such abuse. Calling what Haruka was doing now "abuse" would be being far too light, far too kind. Even "torture" would be putting it gently... were something living the subject of all of this violence, that is.
The silver and pink haired puppets, however, now the two of them made for the perfect victims. Haruka would accept no substitutes for these, as a matter of fact. She needed to destroy them.
Thoroughly.
"You drugged her and then you put on a puppet show for her. Why? What purpose did that serve you, Haruka?"
Ah, so that had been what had tipped off Suzune to her little scheme. Haruka had been in quite a rush when she had stolen those chemicals from the teachers' offices. The Hebijo students were always welcome to them, but the unspoken rule to it all was that they weren't supposed to get caught in the process. Shame on her for being so emotional. At least she could confidently say she wouldn't ever make that mistake again.
"Does it really matter? I can't do anything about it now, can I? What's done... is done!"
A torso dropped onto the floor as she put emphasis on the "now," and with each "done," she smashed it, as she continued to do after she stopped speaking. This should have been making her feel better, it should have made her heart soar back to how it had been flying across the land just a few hours prior every time she smashed through these false bodies, yet it wasn't. If anything, it made her feel worse, and the fact that it wasn't was only making her feel worse still.
While Haruka's stress relief would have been called grotesque by any other, Suzune was decidedly not one that could be described in such a way. She had seen far worse, and she had seen it done with real bodies. Continuing to stand in the doorway, as if she was a parent observing a girl pounding on her bedroom pillow, Suzune continued speaking calmly, even as a few of the dolls' broken fingers flew through the air.
"She's probably going to want to leave more than ever now, Haruka."
The lower half of a lifelike looking jaw rolled across the floor.
"I know."
A false eye bounced its way into the hallway.
"The guilt of handing it back after she had it in her hands will be an even bigger motivator for her to leave."
And at last, something large, broken, and indescribable was flung against the wall, shattering upon impact.
"I know."
Yet Suzune wasn't phased throughout it all.
"Did you know that her allies are coming for her? You may never see her again after tonight."
The gore, the sounds, the sheer emotion Haruka was displaying... She didn't flinch once.
"I'm sure they are... Something like that happening..."
A brief, hollow pause.
"It was inevitable."
But the emptiness of those last three words almost brought Suzune to action. Somewhere in the hardened shinobi, a maternal part of her wanted to step forward... but she knew better than to do such a thing. Silencing that part of her, Suzune reminded herself of her position. After reaffirming her place, she instead chose to look around the room at the mess Haruka had created as she vented her swirling emotions instead, setting her own emotions to the side as she did.
"And? You still haven't answered me, Haruka."
Haruka was silent as she finished what she had set out to do. It seemed like the girl was no better off than she had been before she had started. Recognizing that much, her tone softening, albeit only slightly, Suzune continued.
"Why, Haruka? Why make her even more inclined to go with them when they came? You could have made her want to never leave if you had so chosen."
Her work finally complete, not giving a damn whether or not her teacher was watching, Haruka smiled as she slumped her shoulders and let out an accomplished sort of sigh. Some might have called it almost dreamy sounding. Others might have described it as filled with anguish. Haruka didn't look back at Suzune as she spoke, but she was sure her teacher would understand well enough, though truth be told, Haruka just truly didn't particularly care if she didn't catch the meaning of her words one way or the other. It wasn't like she could do anything about it now.
"This... isn't the dollhouse she belongs in."
With far more gentleness than someone who had been displaying such brutality only moments ago should have been able to muster, Haruka knelt down. Even more gently than that, her fingertips slowly, sweetly, affectionately brushed across the only in-tact piece of the dolls she had been venting her emotions out on. Compared to the gore she was surrounded by, the amount of broken body parts of all shapes and sizes...
This one piece looked as though it was in almost perfect condition. As though it could be placed on a new doll and it would look like it had never been through any sort of damage. The other doll was completely mutilated now, totally destroyed, no longer recognizable as something that had once had a shape so human that it was indistinguishable from one...
But this small piece of the other...
It was just big enough that Haruka could comfortably pick it up and cradle it in her arms. Just large enough that Haruka could hold it with her without fear of dropping it.
Just small enough that she could hold onto it for as long as she wanted... while it would never be able to leave her.
Just perfect enough that she would still be able to crush it in her own hands if the need so arose.
If it ever tried to leave her.
If it ever tried to hurt her.
If it ever tried to betray her.
Its size made it perfect for that.
"Haruka... Is that...?"
It was a face.
The face of a pink haired girl, to be precise.
"This isn't the dollhouse you belong in at all, Hibari..."
Desperately clutching the replica of Hibari's face close, a strangled, despondent, despairing noise escaped Haruka. It was all she would allow herself. She was better than to allow much more, but that much, with only the now silent Suzune and the lifeless face in her arms as witnesses... She would allow herself to express that much.
"Tell me, Hibari... Was there ever any hope? Was there ever a chance that this would have worked out?"
The face of the decapitated doll said nothing.
If only Haruka hadn't done the same when she had sent Hibari for her bag, maybe then...
If only she hadn't hesitated. If she hadn't given Hibari the chance to run away, she could have confronted her... She could have... She could have done something...
It was too late now, though, wasn't it?
"In the end... Yes... I think I was the one who got played with this time... Don't you agree, my little Hibari...?"
The face did not respond.
It couldn't.
It wasn't the real Hibari. The real Hibari was likely being rescued at this very moment. By her real friends.
The thing in her arms, being cradled so lovingly, so adoringly... It was hers, oh yes... But it could never answer her on its own like Hibari could.
It was a tool. With no one pulling the strings, what could it do?
Nothing.
And with the strings of affection cut by the scissors of reality, like the broken doll she held so desperately in her arms, the broken puppet known as Haruka the shinobi, too, said nothing more.