The Suzuki Method

**SATO**

Ms. Sato had an unmistakable knock: three loud, sharp, evenly-spaced raps. Dr. Tanaka Kazuo, sat at his broad walnut desk, set his pen in its inkwell and gathered his papers with great aplomb, rustling them somewhat louder than was necessary and setting them to one side of his blotter.

"Come in," he called.

The door opened briskly - Ms. Sato tended to do everything briskly, often alarmingly so. She seemed always to be on the parade field, ready to snap a crisp salute. She marched in (briskly! crisply!) at the head of a column, and Dr. Tanaka thought she wanted badly for a baton, or better yet, a rifle. It was good fortune for them all, he mused, that she was not so armed. This would be what was known as giving an iron club to an oni.

Ms. Sato's age could have been anywhere from thirty to fifty, for all anyone could tell from looking at her, but a brief encounter would incline one to estimate towards the upper end, wondering how life could have sharpened someone to such a fine point in just thirty years. Her hair, solid black with not a single grain of pepper suffered to remain, was worn in a bun wound tighter than a heretic on the rack. Her face was paradoxically soft in its features, rounded, flat, her complexion light and smooth; but her lips, painted a matte carmine, were forever pursed and frowning, her nose lowered with a slight flare, her tightened jaw jutting behind the molars.

She wore black Oxfords with one-inch slim heels. In the echoing corridors of Namegara Women's Preparatory School, her aggressive heel-toe stride striking the tiles sounded like the reports of a distant and dedicated sniper. It was a sound that quieted conversation, straightened skirts, and made phones slip into bags with a magician's dexterity. On the hardwood floor of the principal's office, the sound was almost deafening, reverberating off the paneled walls and pinging from the metal filing cabinet in one corner before finally burying itself in a short, low couch and its overstuffed footstool.

Her woolen pencil skirt was graphite gray with thin blue and yellow tartan. It fell to mid-calf, below which ribbed black stockings showed. It was unclear how it could hug her hips so tightly and still accommodate her martial stride. Her white button-down shirt had a frilled placket, and was buttoned all the way to the top, with the mandarin collar fastened with a hook and eyelet. Her three-quarter-sleeve black blazer was likewise buttoned tightly. Her bust, though not modest, was, with the assistance of a lacy black bra which had never seen the light of day, easily suppressed by these severe jackets. A single pearl on a thin silver chain lay unobtrusively in the folds above her sternum.

Her signature accessory, of course, was the fifty-centimeter leather riding crop which she carried with her at all times. When not in use it hung from her hip by a button that she had sewn on her skirts for this purpose. She would often hold it behind her back while archly strolling down the center of the hall between classes, gaze high, eyes snapping about for any infraction that might earn a bright welt on the back of the hand.

When she stepped onto the large maroon and black oriental rug that filled much of the office's floor space and demarcated the central seating and conference area, the silence left by her squelched footfalls was sudden, and small sounds like the rustling of her garments became audible. The column following her paused momentarily as she moved the two slatted wooden chairs sitting across the desk from Dr. Tanaka, placing them against the wall. Then, taking her crop in hand, she pointed with it silently at three spots on the floor in the center of the room, and the three girls stepped into their places.

**GIRLS**

On the left was Hideki Tatsuko, a long-limbed blonde, nineteen, most often seen with a confident, haughty stare, issuing her opinions as authoritative edicts, sorting the school's wheat from its chaff. Her lightly wavy hair fell to her shoulderblades in back, and tumbled across the rise of her breasts in front. Though of a good size, they were diminished by her sturdy shoulders; her strong, firm buttocks were a more noticeable feature from any angle. Her ice-blue eyes, normally glinting with ambition, were today a flat blue-gray, staring down and ahead with little motion. A mark was visible already on the back of her left hand, a wide pink streak with two sharp corners and a fading chisel-wedge. Her lips were free of lipstick, unusually - paired with the welt, Dr. Tanaka surmised it had been judged too garish and was scrubbed roughly from her face by Ms. Sato. Her expertly-applied eyeliner seemed to have passed muster, however. She stood with her feet a little apart, back straight, hands at her side.

In the center was Inoue Fumiko, the school's star student. She was only barely eighteen, having skipped a year in primary school. She had friends, but also plenty of enemies. She didn't socialize often, didn't gossip, and being of a somewhat anxious disposition, often had to excuse herself on field trips to go and sit in the bus. This earned her the scorn of the school's social elite, most especially Tatsuko. The older girl never seemed to tire of tormenting her, watching for her in the halls and loudly criticizing her fashion as she passed by. Fumiko tried to ignore her, but felt her cheeks reddening with shame each time an insult landed.

Short and slight, she had come suddenly into her figure shortly after arriving at the school, her breasts high and full, her hips wide with long, smooth curves up to a narrow waist, a wide gap open between the tops of her plumping thighs. There was no doubt this had only stoked Tatsuko's ire further. The only thing worse than a loser was a rival. Her black, neck-length hair was worn in a plain, inward-curving bob with flat bangs.

She stood with her feet together and shoulders hunched, one hand folded over the other in her lap, elbows drawn in to the ribs. Her lips were pressed tightly together as she stared at the floor, her hazel eyes flicking nervously at nothing. The light rouge on her cheeks, a rarity which she had had to work herself up to at great length, and now regretted, was responsible for little of the bright red coloring her face.

On the right was Tamashiro Minami, a transfer student who had arrived the previous month. She was small like Fumiko, but with a featureless silhouette, mousy and thin. Her skin tone was dark, a dusky almond, with copious chestnut hair spilling down her back in tight waves. With her brown eyes and dark lips, her head was dangerously near to monochrome. Thick black plastic glasses consumed much of her face. Her hands were folded in her lap as well, and she stared at the wood grain of the part of the desk nearest her. She was trembling slightly, not enough to see.

All of them were wearing the school uniform: white tennis shoes, black thigh-high socks with three white bands at the top, pleated black knee-length skirts with two white bands near the bottom, white button-down shirts, and at the neck fat black ribbons with white stripes tied into bows. The hem of the skirt fell directly across the scapula on Fumiko, and hid Minami's knees entirely, but Tatsuko's long legs had lifted hers above the knee, and home alterations (forbidden by the dress code but a common practice among the popular girls) had lifted it even further, showing every one of the three stripes on her socks. Careful posturing could further expose several inches of bare thigh, if needed.

When they had filed into place, Ms. Sato stood to their right and said "Hands at your sides." Fumiko's hands balled quickly into fists and found the seams of her skirt. Minami didn't seem to hear. Ms. Sato's crop struck the back of her right hand with a loud crack, and Minami jumped and gave a small shout. She snapped her hands at her side and in a strained whisper said "Sorry, ma'am."

Ms. Sato came around to Minami's front and lifted her chin with the paddle of the crop to stare down directly into her eyes. "Speak up," she said, inches from the young woman's face.

Minami cut her eyes far down and to the left to avoid Ms. Sato's stare. "Sorry, ma'am," she said, her voice wavering pathetically on the edge of breaking. Ms. Sato dropped the crop and Minami's gaze fell immediately to the floor again.

**REPORT**

Ms. Sato turned on her heel, strode again to the right-hand side of the assembled girls, then turned once more to face Dr. Tanaka. Dr. Tanaka continued to wait patiently as he had the whole time, knowing Ms. Sato had to proceed in her particular manner. She folded her arms smartly behind her back, holding the crop perfectly vertically against her spine, and stared straight ahead at the far wall, saying professionally, "Dr. Tanaka!"

"Yes, Miss Sato?" Dr. Tanaka spoke for the second time.

Ms. Sato issued her report in law enforcement jargon, like a police officer describing a crime scene. Dr. Tanaka thought it was a little ridiculous; he thought Ms. Sato's entire shtick was a little ridiculous, but if there was a human living who was brave enough to tell her that to her face, they had not yet stepped forward.

"Early this morning, while passing the locker room of the main gymnasium, I encountered the smell of aerosol. Following it inside, I heard raised voices and a commotion. I discovered these three girls conversing heatedly and a series of vulgarities written in spray paint across the lockers. A bag was open on the ground with a half-empty can of spray paint in it. I asked whose bag it was; it was Fumiko's. Since there were no senior administrators present at that time, I confiscated the spray paint, notified the custodial staff, moved the girls to my office until your arrival, and, as you know, called you to notify you of the incident." Ms. Sato was merely summarizing the situation for the benefit of those present.

"In my view, it is clear that one or more of these girls is responsible for this act of vandalism; however, I leave further fact-finding to you, Doctor."

"Thank you, Miss Sato. Please stand by while I deal with this situation."

Ms. Sato nodded curtly and moved to stand behind the girls in a menacing, wide-stance parade rest.

"Dr. Tanaka,-" Minami suddenly lifted her head and burst out. Dr. Tanaka turned to look at her and said mildly, "Hush. You will each have your turn to speak." Minami lowered her head again, closing her eyes briefly, and her trembling intensified for a moment.

**TESTIMONY**

He turned to Tatsuko. "Miss Hideki," he said. She turned her head slowly towards him, but still seemed to be staring at something distant. After a couple of moments, Dr. Tanaka glanced towards Ms. Sato. "Answer the vice principal," she said sternly.

"Yes, Dr. Tanaka?" asked Tatsuko. Her voice was steady and flat.

"Step forward." Tatsuko took one step forward, standing just a couple of feet from the desk.

"You may speak first. What happened in that locker room?"

She began speaking immediately, with an even pace and no pauses between sentences.

"I was going to the locker room to shower after running when I smelled paint. When I went in I found Fumiko spray painting the lockers. I didn't know what to think at first so I just stood there. Then Minami came in behind me. She saw Fumiko and shouted at her to stop. Fumiko put the paint in her bag and was going to run, but Minami grabbed the bag and it fell on the ground. That's when Miss Sato came in. The rest is like she said." She ended as abruptly as she had begun.

Dr. Tanaka stared at her for a long moment, scrutinizing her blank expression. Then he said "Thank you, Miss Hideki." She stepped back, reforming the line.

He then turned to Minami. "Miss Tamashiro."

"Yes, Dr. Tanaka?" responded Minami.

"Please step forward and relate your version of events."

"Yes, Dr. Tanaka." She stepped forward, squared her shoulders, and took a deep breath to steady herself. She began speaking quickly and irregularly: "As you know, I am on the school track team, I like to run in the mornings before school, and for first period I tutor geometry at Hoshido Grammar School across the street, I don't like to be too sweaty for-"

"Miss Tamashiro," Dr. Tanaka cut her off impatiently. "You may begin from arriving at the locker room. And slow down."

"Um, uh... yes, sir." Minami deflated, releasing her largely-unused breath. Then she took in another and began again:

"It was around 6:20 when I went to the locker room. I remember seeing Tatsuko ahead of me down the hall. As I was going in I thought there was an odd smell. Then I heard something bang into a locker."

At this, Tatsuko let out a sharp sound somewhere between a cough, a snort, and a grunt, and cut her eyes sharply over at Minami for a moment. It seemed intended to be somewhat subtle but was astonishingly obvious. Minami stuttered for a moment, "uh, uh, uh, I, I mean I heard someone close a locker down the hall. I don't know who it was."

She stared silently at the floor for another moment, hitched in half a breath, and continued. "When I went in I saw Tatsuko standing in the door and Fumiko with a can of spray paint writing on the lockers. I shouted and Fumiko saw us. She put the paint in her bag and started to run, but I..." she paused for a long moment "...I stopped her, and the bag fell on the ground. Then Miss Sato came in."

"So, you saw Fumiko spray-painting the lockers, and you saw her put the paint in her bag?"

"Yes, sir." Minami's shaking was audible in her voice.

Dr. Tanaka stared at her, too, seeing her shaking, how she wouldn't look up from the ground. Finally he said "Thank you, Miss Tamashiro." Relieved, she fell back into line.

At last he turned to Fumiko, standing between the other two girls, bent slightly, shoulders rounded and defeated. "Miss Inoue." It wasn't a question.

She lifted her head slowly, as if it was very heavy, and met his gaze dead on. Her eyes bored into his unflinchingly. "Yes, sir." Her response, too, was not a question.

"Step forward." She did so, keeping his gaze.

"Two witnesses say they saw you vandalizing school property, and the instrument was discovered in your bag. Even if you plead innocence, the evidence is clear. Do you deny these accusations?"

"No, sir." Her voice was low and dull.

"You vandalized the lockers?"

"Yes, sir."

"The paint was found in your bag?"

"Yes, sir."

"Nothing has been omitted?"

A short pause, and then: "No, sir."

"Thank you, Miss Inoue. That is all."

Fumiko stepped back. Her previously blank expression now showed consternation. Her brows were drawn together as if in careful thought.

**VERDICT**

Dr. Tanaka leaned back in his wheeled leather office chair and steepled his fingers, pushing them together so that a few knuckles cracked. Then he laced his fingers and laid his hands on his blotter, sitting up straight.

"This would seem to be an open-and-shut case. Miss Inoue vandalized school property and was caught in the act by no less than three witnesses."

He paused to survey the room again. Everyone was fixed in tableau, waiting for his pronouncement.

"The punishment for this will be twenty blows of the cane."

Fumiko jerked slightly at this. Minami's shakes intensified. Tatsuko turned her head to the right and down. Even Ms. Sato was startled, turning towards him and blinking once. The punishment seemed harsh considering Fumiko's spotless record. On the other hand, she reasoned, she should be held to a higher standard. It was a bitter disappointment to see such a promising student act out this way.

Dr. Tanaka rose from his chair, pushing it back behind him. He reached down to one of the large drawers in his desk and pulled it open. From inside he withdrew a long rattan cane with a crook on one end. Closing the drawer, he walked around his desk behind the girls to Ms. Sato and handed it to her. Then he went and stood to the left of his desk, facing the girls.

"Miss Inoue, step forward until you are against the desk."

She took two steps forward, the edge of the desk meeting the tops of her thighs.

"Bend down and put your face on the desk. Put your hands on either side."

She put her hands down first and lowered her torso in a kind of reverse push-up, turning her head to her right to rest her left cheek on the blotter. Her hands she moved up to either side of her head, palm-down, then drew them into fists. The hem of her skirt rode up, exposing two of the three white bands of her socks. Her knees bent slightly and her legs were shoulder-width.

"Bring your feet together and straighten your knees," said Dr. Tanaka. She did so, and now her hips and belly floated above the desk, the small of her back arched, her sternum resting on the blotter. Her legs were taut and her bottom upturned appealingly.

"Miss Tamashiro," said Dr. Tanaki, startling her. "Lift Miss Inoue's skirt."

Minami stared at him, eyes wide with panic. She stepped quickly forward to Fumiko's rear and carefully pinched her skirt midway down its length, piling it up on the small of her back with a single fold and revealing the bottom two-thirds of Fumiko's plain white cotton panties. They were somewhat small and hugged her rear tightly, cutting up to her hipbones on a steep diagonal. A faint bikini tanline ran in a rough parallel an inch below the hem. Minami began to step back, but Dr. Tanaka said "No. Lift it all the way up."

She stared at the skirt for a long moment as if it were a venomous snake which might bite her, then grabbed it at the very bottom, holding it delicately between her thumb and two fingers like a bridal veil. She began lifting it past the waist, then the front got caught between Fumiko's thighs and the desk. Fumiko rocked back for a moment to free it, causing the hem of her panties to slide just a millimeter further up her legs, and the fabric betwen her thighs to slide and push lightly against her lips. Minami continued lifting until the skirt was bunched in front and completely inverted in the rear, covering the small of Fumiko's back. Now her panties were visible all the way up to the waistband. A crease was beginning to get caught between her cheeks; surely uncomfortable, but not something that she could fix just then. Minami stepped back, hands shaking.

Ms. Sato began to step forward, but Dr. Tanaka stopped her with a look and a small hand gesture. He turned to Tatsuko, standing nearest him. "Miss Hideki, vandalism is a serious offense, wouldn't you agree?"

Her head didn't move as she said "Yes, sir."

"The punishment must be memorable, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'm glad you agree. Pull down Miss Inoue's panties."

Without hesitation, Tatsuko stepped forward. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of Fumiko's panties and pulled them briskly down to mid-thigh. After a moment they fell limply down to her ankles, lying in disarray across her tennis shoes. Tatsuko had already stepped back.

With her legs together, Fumiko's generous buttocks revealed little of her anus, but the welcoming triangular gap between her thighs gave an unimpeded view of her small, neat pussy. Fine, thin black hair lined the plump vulva, with bright pink inner lips spilling out.

Now Fumiko was shaking too, the tremors in her thighs making her tight cheeks wobble. "Step into position, Miss Sato," said Dr. Tanaka. She came forward, standing to one side of Fumiko's bare, trembling rear. Dr. Tanaka moved closer, standing directly across from her, his hips less than a foot from Fumiko's exposed sex. "Ready," he said, and Ms. Sato raised the cane sharply above her head with a sickeningly high keen. Dr. Tanaka paused again to look at the girls. Fumiko's eyes were clenched shut, her fists balled tight. Minami had begun to sob quietly, tears running down her face. Tatsuko was still stone-faced, looking away.