The judge presiding over the hearing was a middle-aged Karrian female who seemed uncomfortable in her clothes, as though she had not held the title long. Her scales were white, as was her hair; she made quite a nice pairing with the twelve year old fox stood anxiously before her.
“Good morning,” the judge said as she took her seat. The consoles in front of her lit up, projecting all relevant information she would need for the proceedings.
Isabelle bowed slightly, white paws folded smartly over the jade green formal robe she wore. “Good morning, your honour.”
The judge glanced briefly at her leftmost screen. “Parole hearing for Isabelle Holdenthorpe...” she paused, eyes squinting as if struggling to believe what she saw. “Sentenced to twenty cycles of six-to-twelve for- good grief! Is there is a financial crime you haven't committed?”
Isabelle winced at the question, but held her tongue. It wasn't as if she could say anything that her file didn't already.
The judge cleared her throat, perhaps embarrassed by the lack of professionalism in her outburst. “You have served fifteen cycles hard-time, and one soft-time. I hope you'll forgive my surprise, Miss Holdenthorpe, but I don't think I've ever come across anyone who has served ninety-six years before!”
“I hope you never will again, ma'am,” Isabelle replied, her voice full and sincere.
“Well then, given that you are presently a soft-timer, you are no-doubt hopeful that parole is available to you. There are certain considerations that must be made before such a mercy may be granted, however; namely, what would you do if your sentence were to be lifted?”
It was a question Isabelle always dreaded. “I... honestly don't know, ma'am,” she replied, muzzle hanging low and tail dead weight against her legs. “My family are all on Aspatria, but they are far from good people. The Holdenthorpes are politically connected, you see. I'm well aware that going back to them is not an option, but I wouldn't want to even if I could. Females are treated poorly on my homeworld, and even if that were not the case my father and brothers sold me out the moment the law closed in on our schemes. As far as I'm aware, they – or their descendents – are basking in a palace built through stolen credits. If I tried to go home, there's a real possibility I might be killed.”
“That... is troubling,” the judge replied.
“I was told that a foster family can be arranged, but in truth I would wish to stay in Northrock. My parents and teachers have tried so hard to prepare me for parole, but after a lifetime under the paddle I still don't feel ready. I think a little time and space to grow and find myself would be helpful.”
“Why Northrock? Surely you can 'find yourself' anywhere?”
Isabelle's ears made a shy flicking motion as she glanced toward her mother, one of many she'd had during her time as a penitatas. “I told you about my 'family', but they don't deserve the term. They are related to me by blood, but we otherwise have nothing in common. Family are people who care for you, who celebrate your successes and comfort you when you fail. Family is supporting, nurturing, loving. The only place I have ever known that is in Northrock.
“Besides, I can't help but think of my own experience with watching others parole and move away,” she continued, her voice and posture finding confidence as she spoke. “It broke my heart every time I had to watch a good friend get parole; I'd barely have time to say 'goodbye and good luck' before they were gone from my life forever! I don't want to do that to my friends! I think- I know that being a penitatas can be soul-crushing at times, with so many years still ahead and no hope of parole in sight! Every time I'm brought home again at age six I cry until I pass out from exhaustion, because being made to start over again like that is soul-crushing! It feels like there's no escape, no end to the punishment, no future for you as a person. If I stayed... the others could see that isn't true. They'd see that Penny who's always been there finally got her 'C's, and maybe that'll help remind them that they'll get their own someday.”
The judge gave Isabelle a warm smile. “That is a lovely sentiment, young lady. Given the length of your sentence there is a lot to go through here... but no critical concerns have been raised. The summary is that you are in every sense a model penitatas; if they were all like you, we'd be out of a job! So, let me ask a simple question. As you wish to stay with your friends, do you intend to rejuvenate?”
Isabelle opened her mouth to reply, but her heart was in her throat, stifling the words. “Y-yes!” she squeaked, gulping down a hefty lungful of air and trying again, “Yes please, ma'am! If I'm allowed, I'd like to be rejuved to age eight or so – young enough to give me a good span of time with my peers, but old enough-”
“You don't have to justify your choice to me, Miss Holdenthorpe!” the judge laughed, raising her pale claw. “Parole is hereby granted! Bailiff, please escort the parolee to the rejuvenation chambers. She is to be rejuvenated to age eight and bestowed 'completas' status. All court-applied disciplinary measures and restrictions are hereby lifted in perpetuity, and no further hearings or interventions are mandated. Upon reaching the age of physical maturity, being twenty-one years of age for an Aspatrian, she is to be granted full adult status and her record permanently sealed! Congratulations, Miss Holdentorpe. I sincerely hope you enjoy your new childhood!”

Isabelle had spent the morning with the “boys under the pier”. The white-furred Aspatrian girl, having been a penitatas for most of her life, had once resented the rejuves who loitered about in public places, safe behind their non-judicial letters, looking to gawp and stare at whatever penitatas happened to earn a public punishment that day. Now, her fox paws each bore a silver 'C' that marked her as a completas – someone who had served their time and was now on the way to becoming a free citizen again. Most people, she'd learned, got out of town as fast as possible once those much-loved letters came to them. Most never wanted to set foot in Northrock again.
Her right thumb traced the letter on her left paw as she leaned upon the railing of the pier, all bundled up against the new-year weather in a thick winter coat. Below her, in the shadow the pier, rejuves were laughing as they played on the cold beach. Oh yes, those damned “boys under the pier” had been the bane of her life for so long, and now she was technically one of them. She'd popped her cherry – figuratively – and crossed into the enemy camp to socialise. They were friendly, though one lacked the social wherewithal to keep his tongue still, and had bluntly declared “I remember you cocking your leg in the zoo exhibit!” before being mocked into embarrassed silence by his peers. She'd mused on rutting with one, but none had taken her fancy in the moment.
Still, she'd had a pleasant time, idling away a few hours in a wonderfully childish way before heading topside for something to eat. She hadn't quite gotten that far yet – a curious sense of queasy unease had gripped her, making her long to be alone.
She chuckled to herself as a curious thought came forward. “Oh Isabelle! You really do miss the paddle, don't you? Life was so much simpler when you had the whole world doing the thinking for you...”
Her mind wandered, back almost a year, to a day that she had dreamed of for almost a century. The day she earned her letters. “Did I make the right call?” she asked, but the roaring ocean winds had no answer. Her stomach, however, had plenty to say for itself; growling loudly enough to be heard over the wind, Isabelle chuckled and turned inland, idly wondering what to treat herself to this time. Her parents were generous to a fault when it came to treating her, giving Isabelle all the independence she could ask for, and sometimes more than she could handle. She found her way to a popular stop, Wu's Family Eaterie. The sign on the door mentioned a staff shortage, but inside the tables were packed.
Once more, the girl's focus shifted to the letters on her palm. “I remember the first time I came here as a free girl,” she said to the world. “Just after Talek and I had our 'cuddle' at the side of the school pool...” 

The restaurant had been quiet, which Isabelle had considered a blessing. She hadn't wanted to be in a crowd. Mr Wu's had always been a place where a Penny could feel safe and welcome; she'd needed that more than ever after that awful spell of poor choices.
“Nice to see you again, Isabelle! What can I get you?” Mr Wu asked in his ever-chipper tone as Isabelle found somewhere to sit.
“I don't know. Got anything to make people stop screwing up?”
“Maybe... but I need to know the details first,” he sat down in the chair opposite the sulking Aspatrian. “Lay it on me!”
“I got my friend in really bad trouble,” she replied as she slumped over the table. “Not for the first time, either, but then I got the big idea to march round there and chew out his dad. All that achieved was to make me feel like an even bigger idiot, and earn a backside-warming besides! And that's not the only spanking I've earned since parole either -  it seems like I'm getting spanked and scolded more as a completas than I did as a soft-timer!”
“Not easy being free, is it?” Wu asked, barely able to suppress his amusement.
“It should be! I know better than anyone what's expected of me, but it's like the moment I got these 'C's I just forgot how to be a good person! I'm scared of seeing my friends again because I might get their backsides paddled!” Her head thudded against the table, and from behind her arms came the muffles sound of sobbing.
Wu sighed and leaned forward, placing a gentle claw upon her forearm. “Well, this is a familiar sight. Little Isabelle, face down and bawling.”
The girl raised her head slowly, brow furrowed in confusion until a bolt of revelation hit. “Oh... I was here when you first opened, wasn't I? In fact, I was sat... right over there! My mom had gone to the restroom and I was crying because I'd done something stupid. I'd already been spanked hard, and was going to get it ten times worse at home... and then I heard you put something on the table. I looked up and there was a cake. A little fairy cake.”
Isabelle sat up and clutched the imagined treat. “It had pink frosting with white sprinkles, and a card. 'You'll be okay', the card said. You even drew a smiley face on it.”
Wu smiled at her story, basking in the glow that now radiated from her. He raised a finger for silence, and with perfect timing a young waitress brought over a cake. This one had white frosting with rainbow sprinkles, but it was still a fairy cake, and the card still bore the same hand-written message. “There are a lot of things a penitatas – or an ex-penitatas – needs to hear in Northrock. 'You'll be okay' is one such thing. One we don't say often enough.”
A joyful little laugh sprang forth from the girl's maw as Wu leaned forward again. “But that wasn't how we first met. It was at Camp Northrock, back when it really was a camp. It was my first sports day, during the Age Seven woodland trail run. You were in a solid second and fighting for first. The boy ahead of you was fading fast, and no doubt you were looking forward to streaking past him, taking first and earning the grand prize of a spank-free bottom!”
“Camp Northrock?” Isabelle echoed. “Wow... that was a long, long time ago! Were you one of the camp supervisors?”
Wu seemed almost bashful as he continued. “As you ran past me, I grabbed your tail and yanked as hard as I could. You stumbled, caught your foot on a rock and went flying face first into the gravel! At the time, your howls were the sweetest sound I'd ever heard! I honestly thought I'd get away with it – but instead I spent the whole afternoon in a spanking machine!”
The little girl's eyes widened in shock. “Danny!?”
“Surprise!” Danny Wu replied with a merry grin. “I don't recall if I ever apologised for that day, so for what it's worth I'll say it now. I'm so, so sorry that I hurt your tail and made you fall down!”
“You were that evil little-” Isabelle caught herself, physically clamping her paws over her muzzle. “But then... you never left! You must have opened this place almost as soon as you were paroled!”
Wu nodded slowly. “That's right. I wasn't ready to go back into the 'real world' quite yet, and all those years under the paddle had beaten a conscience into me. I felt like I owed something to my fellow penitatas; I'd spent so many years making everyone else's lives miserable, it seemed fair to turn the tables and make a place where they could almost forget that letters they wore.”
The Karrian's claws reached for Isabelle's white-furred paws, closing around them softly. “And for what it's worth, I made a lot of mistakes as a completas as well. Being a Penny is easy; you just do whatever you're told! Being free? You have to tell yourself what to do, and we both know how badly that can turn out! What matters is you want to do right by others. Stick with that, and everything else will fall into place. Trust me.”

She entered the restaurant again, smiling politely at the counter as Danny Wu fussed about. Perhaps he was busy, or perhaps the counter was too high, but she had to resort to calling out “Mr Wu?” to get his attention.
“Oh, Isabelle! Sorry dear, but I am run ragged today! I'll be with you as soon as I can, just grab a table if there is one!”
“Actually, I'd like a fairy cake to go.”
The request brought the kindly man to a halt. “What's happened? Are you okay?”
She smiled, warmed by his genuine concern. “I'm looking for a specific cake, actually. One for a little girl who misses her old friends and doesn't know where they are.”
“Coming right up! Anyone you're missing in particular?”
“Remember Timmy? Timothy Miller? Captain Greyscale?”
Wu's eyes widened in surprise. “Oh goodness me! Was he really a penitatas here?”
“He was. We met at camp and became... close.”
“How close are we talking?” the older man asked with a hint of mischief in his voice.
Isabelle felt a blush form beneath her fur. “Do you know the Doland family's rejuves? Talek and Rilka?”
“Oh. That kind of close! I think I have something for that.”
She got her cake and smiled at the hand-written card. “'Timothy Miller is the wealthiest man in the galaxy, for he earned the love of Isabelle'. Aww, you big soppy fool!” she laughed.
“I try. Oh, if you're after tracking down old friends, you should ask around the school! If half the stories about your Timmy are true he was probably in the Special Class, right? Go ask a Special teacher!”
“I think I will. Thanks, Danny!” she toasted the man with her cake before finding a seat. Aware of the late hour, late for a child at least, she settled on leaving the matter for tomorrow. After class, she'd question the teachers.

That night, she dreamed of Timothy.
Six years old, and hating the world for it, Isabelle's heels thudded against the sofa as she cursed the clock's slow progress. “When's he getting here?” she moaned in the young, petulant tone of a child far from parole.
To her right was a much older girl, a Karrian youth of fourteen by the name of Sun Sumner. Her amber claw came to rest atop Isabelle's snow-white paw, the reptile's silver 'C' hiding Isabelle's own accursed 'P'. “Be patient, Izzy. His parents promised he'd be stopping by to see us.”
“He's probably home crying.” The comment came from the Penny boy sat to Isabelle's left. He was Roferian boy, eight years old, with fur the colour of sandstone. The boy shifted to find a nook for his spinal spines to rest in. “I bet he got Hard Time again and his parents took him straight home for a welcome-back smack.”
“How or why did Timmy ever make friends with you?” she snapped at the pessimistic Roferian. “Scratch that – how did you make any friends?”
Andronicus Marquis barred his fangs. “It is a lot harder to make friends while keeping your legs closed.”
“You only lost that option recently, 'Annie'!”
“Izzy, Andy, let's not spoil the evening.” the warning came from Isabelle's father, sat close by. “Let's have some quiet now, or there'll be tears for both of you.” The pair of penitatas shelved their argument for the moment, though their glowering gazes made it clear they wanted to say much more.
The door finally creaked open, and Isabelle's heart began to hammer as a timid looking Karrian boy entered, his grey paws clasped behind his back, blue-black hair flopping messily to the side. He had been twelve when last Isabelle saw him. Now he was six, just like her. The fox hurried to the door, unheeding and uncaring of the parental bark of her name. “Timmy? What happened?”
The boy glanced up into her anxious eyes. Slowly, his sheepish expression shifted into a smirk, and he revealed his letters. “Surprise!”
“You... you're a little shit!” Isabelle snapped, shoving the boy to the outrage of the parents present before immediately gripping him in a tight, loving hug. “I can't believe it! You finally got Soft Time!”
“Isabelle, get over here right now!” she turned to see her furious mother and father stood with her friends.
A sorrowful sigh escaped her maw as she whispered, “miserable fucks can't even let me have this.”
“Hey, it's okay. Just maybe hold that tongue of yours for five minutes? Think you can do that for me?” he tickled behind her ear with his finger and stepped apart a little, turning his head to his own parental escort. “Thank you for everything. Especially this.”
“You're welcome, Timothy. We'll always be around if you ever want someone to talk to. Be good for your new family.”
“New family?” the girl watched in bafflement as the two adults closed the front door behind them.
Her own parents were quickly losing patience. “Sun, Andy, I'm sorry we have to cut this welcome home short, but your friend Isabelle needs an attitude adjustment. Please say goodnight to your friends. Sun, would you be alright escorting Andy home?”
“Of course,” Sun nodded politely, as a completas ought to. “Thank you for having me. Goodnight, Izzy. Goodnight, Timmy. This has been long overdue!”
“Don't I know it!” the grey Karrian chuckled.
“What a shock, Snowflake fucks it up again!” Andy let out the snarled whisper as he drew alongside the girl before addressing Timothy at normal volume. “Later, Timmy. 'Grats on your Soft Time.”
“Thanks, man.” The pair bumped fists, and then there were only two rejuves in the room.
“We're waiting, young lady!”
“Fuck's sake!” the girl huffed, turning on her heel and letting her bitter inner feelings show on her muzzle as she marched over.
Her father's frown deepened. “You have a serious attitude problem, Isabelle. We've had one cycle of it already, and we will not put up with it again, especially not after what we've done for you!”
“What have you ever done for me except put me through hell?” the girl shot back. “Am I supposed to say 'thank you' for being spanked and switched? Am I supposed to like those enemas, or having fire-cream rubbed in my holes? What exactly-”
“Don't talk to my parents like that!” Timmy chastised her as his paw came to rest on her shoulder.
The words caused Isabelle's train of thought to derail spectacularly. She physically staggered, overbalancing due to how fast she snapped to face the boy. “You... you're...”
“Yes, Isabelle, we've decided to take Timothy in as your 'brother' for this cycle,” their mother explained. “We know you two are close – we've punished your little play sessions enough times! It seems no matter how hard we try we can't beat the brat out of you, so having failed with the stick we're considering the carrot. Given your outbursts, I'm thinking that was a mistake!”
“No! I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!”
“You had better be,” father cut in. “because we were considering far more than just letting him live here. We were going to enable your relationship.”
The past-tense statement made tears well up in the girl's eyes. “Dad... please...”
“Not another word. You shape up right now, or this is over before it starts.”
“No! I'll do anything, dad! I swear! Please don't take him away from me!” her paw grabbed Timmy's claw and squeezed it as hard as she could.
Both parents turned their backs to whisper conspiratorially, while Timmy gently stroked the girl's back. “Whatever they decide to do, I'm here for you. You'll be fine, love.”
The parents turned their gaze back to their charges. “I suppose you'll want to consummate your relationship tonight?” Neither penitatas replied, but their blushing and shy glances to one another was answer enough. “Then we expect you to be a good girl from now on, Isabelle. That means accepting your punishments without the huffing, whining or cursing. No more swearing, either! You understand all that?”
“Y-yes... dad. I understand.”
“Good. Bare fur, please. Dear, get the defolicator.” he watched the girl's reaction carefully, noting the shocked look on Isabelle's face. Yet, perhaps because of the squeezing of her paw from Timmy, she held her sharp tongue. “No clothes for you for at least two weeks, I think. That means going to school in the nude as well. Any comment, Izzy?”
“No sir,” she mumbled, biting her lower lip.
Mother returned with the evil little device once Isabelle's clothes were on the floor. “I think this fur of yours gives you much to much privacy,” she cooed as the device began to hum. “Open those legs just a little, please. I'm going to take all the fur away around your privates, so everyone in town will see what colour you are under that white.
“That-” she halted her protest, noting the raised eyebrow. Bowing her muzzle and sniffling a little, she repented. “That's fair. I'm sorry I snapped just then. I promise I'll keep still.”
“And once your underside is nice and bare, you'll come into the garden for some 'little kisses', okay?”
Isabelle flinched at the words. 'Little kisses' referred to the nettles her parents grew specifically to punish her. “O-okay,”
“Inside and out, is that alright?”
Tears leaked from her eyes at that. “Y-yes mom.”
“Good girl.”
The defolicator did its work, painlessly erasing the soft fur from Isabelle's feminine mound and leaving her shivering at the touch of an unfamiliar breeze. Her mother cleared the girl's backside as well for good measure. “Okay, all set! Here, pop these gloves on. I want you to go give yourself those 'kisses'. You've been a Penny long enough to know how.”
A single, loud sob came out, but no curse or pleading followed. She merely shook in place, holding tight to the boy she loved, willing herself to be strong for the sake of this promised relationship to come. With Timmy in tow, Isabelle stepped outside into the garden and approached the nettle patch. Her parents followed, watching intently as she put on the gloves and carefully gripped the nettle. “D-do you want m-me to do my... my insides first? Or outsides?”
“Whichever you think is best,” came the calm reply.
Nodding, Isabelle gingerly crept forward towards the tall, stinging plant. Taking a wide stance, she bent the stalk and shuffled over it, letting it bend up to sting across her slit and cheeks. Her newfound stoicism broke instantly with a loud howl and she leaped backwards, causing the tall nettle to snap upright and swipe her shaven cunny harshly on the way. The girl stood and trembled for a few seconds, gulping air and blubbering, before tottering forwards towards her mortal enemy once again. This time, however, a mother's claw restrained her. “That'll do, Isabelle. We just wanted to see how committed you really were.”
“We won't make you go outside like that,” Father added. “Come on upstairs. I'll give you some nano-lotion to take that sting away, and you two can celebrate Timmy's Soft Time however you like.”
That was the beginning of Isabelle's best cycle in Northrock. The two rejuves made love as soon as her relief was given, and many times after. The scheme worked, for the girl would seemingly refuse to let her own actions put Timmy's tail in harm's way; a threat that he would share every 'earned' spanking Isabelle got saw her attitude make a complete u-turn. The reward for good behaviour was, of course, space and permission to romance one another; not merely sex, though that was frequent, but the occasional bout of leeway to 'date', be that watching a movie together on the holo, or having a romantic picnic in the garden. By the end of the cycle, Isabelle had stopped thinking of herself as a penitatas – she was happy, happier than she'd ever been as a 'free' woman.
The happiness couldn't last forever. After six years of bliss, the days of parole hearings resurfaced once more. Isabelle didn't get one, simply dispatched straight to the rejuvenator and back to age six. Timothy's came later, and she was present in the courtroom as his parole was finally announced. He was free.
And just like that, the dream was over.
Tears flowing down her cheeks, Isabelle wailed in agony at her lover's words. “Why? Why are you leaving me? You can stay! You have to stay!”
Wiping his own eyes with his sleeve, Timothy struggled to answer, “I love you, Izzy. I always have and I always will, but we both knew this day would come. It's time for me to move on, to go back to the world. I want a life again. I earned my second chance, just like you will someday.”
Isabelle crashed into him, gripping him tight as she buried her muzzle against his chest. “I can't live without you!”
“You're stronger than that, Izzy. You'll make it. I... I will never forget you, Isabelle. Never.”
They broke apart. Isabelle, restrained by her mother's grip, watched in agony as her father shook Timothy's paw as if they were equals, picked up the small suitcase of the boy's meagre possessions, and escorted him to the waiting hovercar. She watched the doors close, choking as Timothy leaned backward so their eyes could stay fixed as long as possible as the door slid closed. Then he was gone.
She broke from her mother's grip and ran upstairs to her room. No protests followed. She flung herself upon the bed, buried her face in her pillow, and howled in absolute grief all night long.

Isabelle, two years older and many decades distant from that day, awoke in the pre-dawn gloom. Her fingers touched her cheek, finding a tear trickling down. “Timmy,” she whimpered into the dark. “it still hurts to think of you.”

Later that day, when the school bell rang to release the children back to their homes, Isabelle did the unthinkable – she sought out Mister Titus.
“Enter!” the Roferian called in response to her knocking on his classroom door. The bone-white draconic teacher glanced up at her arrival, his harsh green eyes creasing into a puzzled glare. “Miss Isabelle?”
“Sir,” she greeted respectfully. Completas or not, it paid not to earn the ire of Mister Titus.
The Roferian leaned back in his chair, a sharp-nailed claw rising to brush an errant strand of rust-red hair back into place. “What can I do for you, young lady?”
“Well, I have a bit of a strange request, one I was told you might be able to help with. I wanted to track down some old friends, you see.”
Mister Titus appeared even more puzzled. “Old friends?” he echoed.
“Yes sir. Well, in one case he was much more than a friend. A... a lover, really. Timothy Miller. You might-”
“I know the name, Miss Holdenthorpe,” Mister Titus snapped impatiently. “What I don't understand is why you thought I could help you find him.”
Made anxious by the seeming hostility, Isabelle answered meekly, “Well, Mr Wu thought you might have been his teacher at one point.”
“Mr Wu?”
“Danny Wu, sir. He runs Wu's Family Eaterie?”
Perhaps for the first time in her life, Isabelle saw what appeared to be confusion on the Roferian teacher's face. He turned his head aside, scratching his neck just below one of his long, black spines. “Yes, I know the place. He thought I was the boy's teacher?”
“That's what he said, yes. Did you not teach him?”
“I don't recall ever having a 'Timothy Miller' in my class, no. As a matter of fact, I don't recall the boy being a penitatas at all during my tenure here.”
“But you know the name?”
Mister Titus turned his lip up at the question. “He was one of the most notorious pirates in Halkat's history, Miss Isabelle. Who hasn't heard of Captain Greyscale? Come to think of it, didn't your family employ him at one point?”
The question put the girl immediately on the defensive. “That life has nothing to do with me any more.”
“I'm pleased to hear it. But if I might indulge my curiosity, why are you seeking the boy out now?”
“Well, we were close once. I think, silly as it sounds, he might have been my first true love. For a long time I imagined that we'd meet again when we both paroled. I guess that old dream's been coming back to me now.”
For a time, Mister Titus seemed lost in thought. With a wordless gesture he invited Isabelle to approach, gazing off into nothingness in silent contemplation. Isabelle helped herself to a desk in his line of sight, which seemed to break the spell. “That's a delightful bit of romance you have kindled, Miss Isabelle, but I fear your hearts desire shall go unrequited. I suspect Master Timothy changed his identity upon parole, which is not uncommon for serious offenders. Given his infamy, there would likely always be some stigma towards Timothy Miller, and so the only true way to get a new life would be to assume a new identity. Such a person would likely not welcome an 'old friend' from his criminal past knocking on his door.”
“I see,” she didn't bother to hide her disappointment. Mister Titus always seemed to know what his pupils were thinking.
To prove exactly that, he offered another suggestion. “Can you recall anyone else from your circle of friends? Unlikely as it is, perhaps one of them has somehow stayed in contact?”
Isabelle considered the question. “Well... there was Sun Sumner. Do you know her?”
“The cannibal cultist who ate her own daughter? Yes, I remember that one,” Titus answered dryly.
“She was only like that because she had untreated-”
“Anyone else?” Mister Titus cut in with a characteristic lack of patience.
“Well... there's Sir Andy. He was Timmy's best friend in the Camp, though he was Y-repped back then. Went by Antoinette initially. But when he was male again he went by Andronicus.”
“Andronicus.” Titus echoed.
“He was a Roferian. Fur the colour of sandstone, from a colony that was in a civil war a long time ago. Began with C...”
“Caliban.”
“Yes, that's the one! He fled to Halkat as a refugee, but then-”
Mister Titus' memory had apparently caught up. “He kidnapped three women and kept them as sex slaves in a home-made dungeon. Obtained a black-market portable rejuvenator and used it to regress them to the age of four. Kept them enslaved and abused for twenty years before they caught him.”
“You know him too?”
The teacher gave a humourless sneer. “I have become extremely familiar with Halkat's most infamous criminals. I see them every day. I repeat my prior comment, Miss Isabelle; I doubt any of those individuals have retained contact with anyone from their past.”
“I know it's a long shot-”
Mister Titus didn't wait for the question. “Even if I did know where your friends were, I would not help you track them down. Danny Wu might have wished to stay here, and stay his old self, but your friends clearly did not. If there is no public record of Timothy Miller, or Sun Sumner, or Andronicus Marquis, it is because those individuals no longer exist. Now, Miss Isabelle, as much as I have enjoyed this little diversion, I do have work to be getting on with.”
“Oh. Of course. Thank you for your time.” Isabelle rose from her borrowed desk and turned for the door.
To her surprise, she heard a soft sigh. “Wait,” Mister Titus called out, making the girl turn. “If it really is that important to you...”
“Yes?” Isabelle felt hope rising in her heart again.
With considerable reluctance, Mister Titus rose from his desk and straightened his shirt. “I do in fact know where to find Sun Sumner. She returned to her family's homestead.”
The words slapped Isabelle across the face like a steel bat. “You're kidding! Why would she ever want to go back to that evil place?”
“I have no idea, because I do not go about invading people's privacy whenever I get nostalgic.”
Anger compelled Isabelle to react. As a Penny she'd have held her tongue, but her new letters emboldened her to speak. “Are all Roferians so rude and condescending, Mister Titus? Or is it just you?”
Titus merely shrugged. “You should ask another Roferian and find out. Miss Penelope is in your class, yes? Or perhaps you'd rather ask Richter Saccard? He's more the calibre of company you seek to court.”
The answer left Isabelle flat-footed. She'd expected a scolding, and briefly wondered if she'd once more let her lip earn her rear a belt or worse. Yet for all his snark, Mister Titus did not seem inclined to punish her. “Why would you tell me about Sun, then snap at me for wanting to meet her?” the Aspatrian asked.
Her question appeared to catch Titus off-guard. He rallied quickly, however. “Perhaps I shouldn't have. But for what it's worth, I met her some time ago. She lives on the Sumner homestead. Alone now, her old family long gone. Yet it is ultimately what she wanted, what she had tried to find in Northrock upon parole, but failed to achieve until she went home – the idealised version of herself. As you tried to say earlier, Sun was quite literally a different woman here in Northrock, the Karrian's mental instabilities identified and expunged during her judicial rejuvenation. This was the only place she'd ever known as a 'normal' person, but it was too full of pain and misery for her to endure once she had leave to, well, leave. I do not believe she would welcome you contacting her because you are a remnant of a life she wished to leave behind, even if it is likely a positive one. So, rather than chasing the past, I suggest you do as she did, and look within. Why are you still here, Isabelle? Why are you still living in Northrock, playing at being a 'Good Penny' still? What need are you actually trying to fill?”
The questions gave Isabelle pause, but above all else one thought pushed itself to the forefront of her mind. “You're not behaving like yourself, Mister Titus.”
“Oh? Do elaborate.”
“Well... you're being helpful. Nice, even. Plus, you aren't the kind to take back-talk, Cs or no. Why haven't you spanked me for disrespecting you? Why are you being... well, why aren't you being 'Mister Titus' with me?”
Titus paused, studying the girl carefully. “Is that what you want, Isabelle? Do you want me to put you over my knee and give you a good, hard spanking?”
“No, of course not! But-”
“Ah, there's a 'but'!” Titus cried triumphantly. “I think I hit the mark when I said you're playing at being a Penny. No, not a Penny; dare I presume? Miss Isabelle, I wish to be careful with how I word this so as not to offend, nor be misconstrued, but I suspect that you might wish for something... taboo? Penny life is all you've known for so long, and the imaginations of penitatas do so often seek to escape into fantasy. Are you secretly hoping to play out some fantasy or another?”
The question made Isabelle blush. “I should go,” she said, but Titus was quick to interject.
“My name is Tobias.”
The statement left Isabelle stalled. “I... never thought of you as having a first name,” she confessed. “You've always been 'Mister' Titus. Like it's a royal title or something.”
Titus took a short bow. “Does it feel easier speaking to Tobias, rather than Mister Titus? Tobias has never threatened you, never leered at your naked body, never put welts on your rear. And best of all, Tobias does not work as a teacher in this school, so if you make a fool of yourself you won't have to hide your muzzle in shame each time he walks past you in the corridor.”
A little giggle slipped out at the offer of understanding. “Wow, this is seriously surreal! I don't know how to take this!”
“Take it seriously,” Titus – or rather, Tobias – answered in a gentle tone. “You aren't a penitatas now, Isabelle. Stop acting like one, and stop thinking like one. You've earned a little happiness. What can we do to help you find it?”
Eyes clenching shut, Isabelle took a deep breath and made the proverbial leap. “I guess... you're right. I do want the whole... 'Penny Fantasy'. I know there are people who play at it, I've seen the occasional 'penitatas' around town who are clearly Vs or Ms role-playing with an adult. But I don't have anyone I can do... that... with...” the blush returned, hot and deep.
Mister Titus stepped forward. His bone white claw reached out, slowly but firmly closing around her muzzle to hold it shut. His shining green eyes locked onto hers, and a predator's grin spread across his draconic snout. “Oh yes you do,” he purred.

As soon as the hovercar's ground-sensor disabled the safety lock, Isabelle wrenched the door open and jumped. She hit the ground and rolled, grunting from the impact, and kicked the loose coils of rope free from her feet. Her paws were still bound, but she'd have to deal with that later.
She ran without bothering to take stock of her location – even after almost a century, the layout of Camp Northrock was burned into her mind. The path ahead wound uphill via a circuitous route, but she was going to cut through the trees, climbing the muddy slope and braving the tangles of plants to find shelter as quickly as she could. Her mad vault from the vehicle would only buy her so much time.
Ahead of her were the old camp buildings, long since out of use. She slowed for a moment to consider them, weighing their value before moving on. The nearest was the wash building, a narrow set of toilets and showers – no good. The office block was tall, with lots of little rooms. Hiding places, maybe, but... the white-furred fox shook her head, setting her sights on more distant structures. The eight year old pounded gravel, charging along the path towards one of the low wooden buildings whose door was open, but quickly changed direction as she passed the wash building. “Too obvious!” she cursed. “Need to break line of sight!”
First, she needed her paws free. The girl dropped behind an old wooden platform where camp staff had once made pronouncements and public displays of corporal punishment on the penitatas they cared for. Grunting and growling like a feral, Isabelle yanked at the rope in a desperate effort to get her paws free. Seconds later she froze, ears up and prickling as heavy footsteps hit gravel from behind.
“I know you're here!” Mister Titus bellowed. “You can't hide from me, girl!”
Isabelle froze, mind racing as she tried to figure out what to do next. She hadn't counted on him getting here so soon! Peering cautiously through the platform supports, she saw him move toward the wash building. He seemed to be leaning in, and his latest call was muffled beyond coherence. It was now or never.
Wriggling to her feet, panting from the effort, Isabelle sprinted for the nearest bunk building. The grass muffled her footfalls, but she slowed at the gravel path so as not to give the game away. Carefully, she crept across the loose stone and up the wooden stairs, taking the door handle and easing it down slowly, silently.
“There you are!” the Roferian roared from the wash buidling, and Isabelle instantly abandoned all pretence of stealth. She hurled the door open and bolted inside, rushing straight to the far end of the building and grabbing the latch for the window. She knew it wouldn't be locked; she'd slipped out at night before, back when she was a penitatas 'camper' here all those years ago. The staff wanted their charges to slip out – it gave them an excuse to punish them all the more.
She dropped into the long, wet grass, bounced up to her feet, and bolted for the next building. Round she went, ducking in as she heard Mister Titus coming back out from the first bunk room. Again she went to the window, flinging it open, but this time she doubled back and dove under one of the old bunk beds.
She saw the door slam open. Only the Roferian's legs were visible in the doorway as he stood and stared into the room, a low growl escaping his throat. He entered the room and pushed the door closed behind him, then after a pause dragged one of the beds over to block it. “I know you're still in here, little girl,” he snarled into the gloom. “Now you've got no way out. May as well come out of hiding and get this over with.”
He began to walk along the remaining beds, tail swishing slowly back and forth as he came. Isabelle watched his feet draw closer, the man's voice taking on an almost jolly tone as he spoke again. “We both know how this works, Isabelle. Resist, and I hurt you. Cooperate, and I hurt you less. Out here, there's nobody who will hear you scream but me, and I know so many ways to make a child scream...”
He stopped at the window, pulling it shut and working the mechanism. “Oh, and now the window's out as well. I wonder where you'll run now?”
Back along the beds he went, humming to himself as he picked one seemingly at random and knelt down to check underneath it. “I'm coming to get you, Isabelle!” he called in a sing-song tone.
The girl watched, wide-eyed as the Roferian came to her side of the room, two beds away. He knelt down, and the pair locked eyes. “There you are!”
Isabelle scrabbled out from under the bed and dove for the window. Titus had used the rope she'd abandoned earlier to bind it, preventing her escape.
“I'm coming to get you, Isabelle!” Titus called in that same, sinister sing-song way as he strode across the room. “I'm going to rape you, Isabelle! I'm going to rape you to death!”
“No! Stay back!” Isabelle wailed as Titus lunged the last leg, grabbing her bound paws and pulling her in. Before she could regain her balance, the Roferian flung her onto the nearest bed with all his might, the ancient mattress and bed frame groaning in protest. Again, the fox-girl tried to regain her balance, but the teacher's claws closed on her skull and forced her face down into the ancient, stale-smelling pillow. Her eyes widened as a knife flashed in front of her eyes. “If you want to get out of this alive, you will do exactly what I say.” All playfulness was gone now, replaced by cold, predatory fury. “I am going to cut your clothes off now. Fight me, even just a little, and I will cut your pretty little body as well. Nod if you understand.”
Isabelle did, with all her strength. The blade vanished from view, only to hook inside her pants at the ankle and slide upwards. She felt her pants leg tighten, then heard it start to tear up to the hip. Titus let go of her skull so he could better rip through the waistband, leaving her in her pink panties.
“I'm disappointed in you, Isabelle. I always thought you were a fighter. Yet there you are, accepting your fate as my fuck toy.”
A soft whimper escaped the girl's maw, “P-please don't hurt me!” she sobbed, eyes clenched shut in terror as Titus pulled her legs apart and pressed the knife against the fabric of her panties.
“Oh, I am going to do far worse than hurt you,” he growled as the knife slipped in and cut the seat of her panties. He didn't bother to pull the remains away, satisfied that the slice had given him access to what he wanted.
“No! Let me go! Please!”
“Let you go? Alright, I'll let you go,” Titus suddenly rose from the bed, grinning wickedly. His pants were open, revealing his furred crotch to the world. From his genital slit a long, tapered cock emerged and swelled rapidly, the red length twitching in anticipation of what was to come. “You have... ten seconds. Ten seconds to escape before I tear that little cunt of yours wide open. Ten... nine...”
It took Isabelle a few precious seconds to register she had an opening. The girl dove from the bed, but Titus lunged to grab the trailing edge of the rope hanging from her wrists. It jolted tight and the girl span, legs and tail flailing as she tried to right herself. “No! Let go! Let go!”
Titus merely laughed at her futile struggle. “Five... four...”
“Don't do this! I'm begging you!”
A hard jolt brought her barrelling into the teacher-turned-rapist, who caught her by the throat. “Time's up!” he roared and threw her back onto the bed. Clawed hands instantly locked around her ankles and pulled her legs wide apart, one hand releasing its grip only long enough to push his long, slick manhood down towards Isabelle's exposed cunny. He pressed the tip against her passage, grabbing her thigh for purchase, and thrust.
Isabelle let out a shocked gasp as Titus penetrated her. It hadn't been a deep thrust, just enough to give purchase, but after a pause he began to pull her hips towards his own. The bone-white Roferian couldn't possibly hilt his smaller partner, but he could fill her completely. Isabelle whimpered and moaned as the reptilian cock pressed against her cervix. “Tight as I imagined,” Titus purred. “Time to loosen you up!”
He pulled back his hips, almost slipping his cock free, and then thrust once more. His rhythm was slow, but precise, each motion completely filling the rejuve girl's cunny with slow, measured movements. Every sob and whimper she made drew growls of pleasure from the rapist, who responded by taunts of his own. “Oh, what a wet hole you are! How many years have you dreamed of this, Isabelle? Dreamed of being used like the worthless bitch you were born to be?”
“N-no! I don't want this!” the girl yelped, unable to keep from gasping as the thick, hot Roferian cock filled her completely. Each stroke sent shivers through the girl's body, each thrust filled her mind with a numbing fog as she lost both the strength and the will to resist.
“Yes, this is where you belong!” Titus snarled. “Everyone knows Aspatrian girls exist solely to please men! You belong to me now, Isabelle!” He grabbed her muzzle and jerked her head towards the window. “Take one last look at the sun, you fucking little cunt! When I'm done here, I'm taking you home with me! I'll lock you in the cellar, in a dark little room where no-one will find you! I've got my own rejuvenator, did you know that? Oh, imagine how much you'll enjoy this when I turn you back to a three-year old. How wonderfully tight you'll be - at first! But I'll rape you every day, in both your holes, and you'll never, ever escape!”
With a roar, Titus thrust one last time, harder and deeper than before. Isabelle squealed in alarm as her insides were stretched, and a hot burst of Roferian spunk flooded into her womb. Her whole body clenched, and dual waves of pleasure and pain overcame her as the raping thrusts forced her into an orgasm of her own. She blacked out from the intensity.

Isabelle came to less than a minute later to find Titus stood over her with a look of concern on his face. “Still with me, Isabelle?” he asked softly.
“F-fuck!” the girl gasped, which earned her a smile. A bottle of water appeared in her vision.
“Here, drink. Slowly, mind you. Deep breaths, don't move too much.”
“Thanks... ah! Bloody hell!” a paw shot to her well-used cunny to cup the throbbing entrance. “You really went all-in at the end!”
Titus gave the girl a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Snowflake. Got a bit carried away.”
She waved away the apology. “It's okay, I'm good. Certainly made the finish intense. Though you didn't have to go quite so hard on the dirty talk. Roleplaying as Andronicus Marquis? That was dark!”
“I'll make a mental note to reign it in for next time,” he answered with a dirty chuckle.
The comment raised an eyebrow from Isabelle. “Oh? What makes you think there's a next time?”
“I told you, I'm taking you into my underground dungeon to make you my sex slave!” the teacher laughed in reply, leaning into the aforementioned darkness.
The girl snickered at the answer, finally taking some much-needed gulps of water. “So, you really managed to set all this up just for us?”
The Roferian gave a vague shrug. “Yes and no. Let's just say that Camp Northrock isn't as unused as some people think. It's just catering to different clientele these days.”
“Like people who want kidnap rejuves and 'rape' them?”
“Especially those people, yes,” Titus flashed a hungry grin. “Got it in you for another?”
A dirty smirk formed on the girl's muzzle. “Maybe... but go easy, okay? I'm thinking I suck you off, you give me a 'forced' orgasm via some gentle fingering?”
“I can do that.”
“Good. Oh, help me out of these clothes first. I'm thinking we pretend I've been tied up here a while... wait, why are you smiling like that? No! There's a sex dungeon in the camp?”
Laughing, Titus lifted the girl up onto his shoulder. “Oh, you naïve little thing! You've lived here a hundred years, and only now you're learning how Northrock works! Come along, my pretty little fuck toy – you have a cock to suck!”
There was indeed a dungeon, and Isabelle did indeed suck cock. Basking in the afterglow of another satisfying climax, Isabelle found herself bare on Titus' lap, naked and content as he gently rocked her. “This is going to make school a bit weird,” she sighed as the afterglow began to fade and post-climax clarity took hold.
“No it won't,” Titus insisted. “I'll simply beat you into line if you blather to your friends.”
“Not sure how seriously to take that,” Isabelle confessed. She opened her eyes and noted the scowl. “Okay! Taking it seriously!”
Her outburst made Titus grin. “Thank you for this, Isabelle. It's been a treat. Truthfully, I've had 'fantasies' of my own for a long time. I'm glad we got to share this.”
“Why do I feel like you're about to say this was a one-time deal?”
“One time? Oh no, certainly not! I'll take advantage of you whenever you give me the chance!” Titus laughed in reply. “But self restraint is important to maximise one's pleasure, little girl. Chocolate is a delight when it is a little weekend treat. Chocolate for every meal becomes sickening.”
A snort answered his parental wisdom. “Little too much of the 'Penny Fantasy' there, Tobias!”
He flicked one of her nipples as punishment for using his private name, and smiled in sadistic pleasure at her pained yelp. “It's 'Mister Titus', Snowflake.”
“Well, 'Mister Titus', as fun as this was I should really get home. I'm starving now!”
Titus nodded, helping the girl to her feet once more. “The shower block is still plumbed in with hot and cold water. You can wash and change here. I think I'll join you in the shower myself.”

“Miss Isabelle! Front of the class, immediately!”
The barked order made the fox-girl jump. She glanced around in confusion, unsure of where she was, until her attention fixed on a fourteen year old Sun Sumner. “Got yourself in a mischief again, did you?”
“Now, Miss Isabelle!” the roar came from Mister Titus, stood at his desk with a blistering paddle in hand.
The girl slipped from her desk, whimpering in dread anticipation. A sandstone orange Roferian jeered at her as she passed, the furred dragon's appearance melting between male and female as if it were somehow both and neither. “You're in for it now, Snowflake!” Andronicus jeered.
At the last desk, a grey Karrian stood waiting. Timothy Miller took her paws in his gentle, loving grip and sighed. “You'll be okay, Izzy. It'll all be okay.” She leaned in to kiss him, but he dissolved into fog before their lips met.
“No! Timmy! Please come back!” she wailed as darkness overwhelmed her.
“He's gone, Snowflake! We're all gone!” voices called out in chorus, a dozen or more at once, more felt than heard.
Once more, Isabelle was jolted from her broken, chaotic dreaming. No tears rolled down her cheek this time. Instead, she was roused with a burning rage in her heart. “Andronicus! You evil bastard!” she roared into the shadows.

The girl carried her fury as best she could all day, waiting for the end of day bell to finally face down her mortal foe. She didn't bother knocking this time, storming into Mister Titus' office with fierce determination, her impropriety helping to kindle the coals of hatred into a roaring flame once more. She savoured the look of surprise on the Roferian's face at the intrusion. “What the actual fuck, Andronicus!?” she howled as she crossed the classroom.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Don't you dare play dumb with me you evil shit!” the eight year old fox roared as she closed on the baffled teacher. “You've been here this entire time, under my nose, and you never once thought to tell me?”
Mister Titus' expression flowed through a dozen different emotions in the space of a heartbeat. “Why are you calling me 'Andronicus'?”
“Because that's your name! Andronicus Marquis! 'Sir Andy', we called you back in the day! I'm sure you remember that!”
“I am not Andronicus Marquis,” Titus replied in a cold tone.
Isabelle scoffed at the refutation. “Oh, really? Well let's just go down the list! Let's see, you're in your thirties, maybe forties? You made parole fifty years ago, and since you've had some work done I'm guessing you rejuvenated at some point so the age fits. Then there's your attitude – you were still a sadistic bastard even in Soft Time, so no surprise that carried over into your parole!”
“Isabelle-”
“But it's yesterday you let the mask slip. You called me 'Snowflake'! That was your nickname for me, remember?”
“You have white fur, that's hardly-”
“You even pretended I was one of your fucking victims! You are beyond sick!”
“That's enough!” Titus' roar was a wall of fury, knocking the girl off her flow long enough to let the man get a word in. “Miss Isabelle, you have gone so far beyond the line that I am well within my right to put a hundred blisters on your backside, completas or not! I have no idea what madness has gripped you, young lady, but if you have any sense of self-preservation you will shut your foul maw this instant and listen!”
“Oh I am-” Isabelle paused as Titus leaped from his chair and stormed towards his rack of punishment tools, grabbing an age-twelve blistering paddle without a moment's hesitation. Far too late, the girl realised he wasn't making idle threats. She turned and ran for the door, slamming into it in her haste, and wrestled with the handle to no avail.
“I have an override at my desk, Miss Isabelle,” Titus snarled. “You don't leave until I say so. Now, how do you want to do this? Like a Penny, or like an adult?”
Shaking in mortal dread, the girl turned slowly to look back at the enraged Roferian. The heavy paddle slowly, deliberately tapped the desk. “Come here. Now.”
Silent sobs and bursts of tears streaked down Isabelle's cheeks as she shuffled towards her fate. “Y-you always did like seeing me hurt,” she whimpered with her last spark of defiance.
To her surprise, Mister Titus placed the paddle atop his desk and sat back down. He reached forward slowly, palms up. “Give me your paws, please,” he asked gently, his rage dissipating as quickly as it had come. She obeyed.
“Isabelle, listen carefully. I will not repeat myself, and this is the last chance at mercy I am willing to offer. You can calm down and let me speak, or you can be put over my lap and punished like a Hard Timer for the unforgivable way you have behaved just now. Am I understood?”
“Yes,” she whispered, nodding for good measure.
“Good. You ought to know that I looked into your friends last night. Miller, Marquis, Sumner. I have access to corrections department records that are not accessible to the public. I thought I might be able to find something that would help you reach out, or at least find closure. Unfortunately, there was nothing to find on your lost lover. Timothy Miller requested, and was granted erasure; he was rejuvenated, possibly with a Y-rep and almost certainly with some degree of cosmetic gene-resequencing, and granted a new identity. Perhaps he was even set up on a new world. I say 'perhaps' because none of the details were recorded, precisely so that no-one could do as I attempted to do and track him down through department files. For all intents and purposes, Timothy Miller no longer exists.”
A soft whimper escaped Isabelle's lips at the announcement. “Miss Isabelle, your friend Andronicus underwent the same process. Sun Sumner remained in Northrock for a time, even taking a training role within the Department, but ultimately she felt Northrock was a bad fit for her. She may still officially exist, but she wishes to be left alone. You should respect that. You should also understand that erasure is not a trivial thing; this is not simply parole as you have received, where your past is officially forgotten once you age out of letters. This is someone completely separating their new selves from their past, and to make contact with someone from that past would utterly undermine that effort. Even if Timothy Miller had returned to Northrock, no-one here would have any means to know his former identity, nor would he be at all inclined to tell you. As romantic as it must surely seem to you that he has been secretly watching you all these years, the reality is almost certainly that he has started anew somewhere else, somewhere far from here. The further from Halkat he goes, the easier it is to escape his past. Given he voluntarily chose erasure, that is a past he clearly wished to escape... and even the good must be left behind.”
Isabelle sobbed. Not in fear as before, but the bawling of a child whose heart, once thought healed, had broken again. Even after many long decades, the wounds felt fresh and new. Titus, showing patience and care no Penny ever imagined he could possess, sat in silence and let her sob. Once when she'd calmed a little did he speak again. “Now, I would like you to go and speak to Mr Hachi. He's known you a long time, and I think you need a friendly face right now. Besides, given our... intimate encounters... I feel it would be wise to put space between us. Isabelle, if I misread your desires, if I crossed the line, I sincerely apologise to you and will do whatever I need to in order to make things right again. But you should discuss that with someone else. Come, let's go find Hachi.”
She was led mutely to her Housemaster's office. The ageing Karrian, his green scales and dark hair both paling to grey as age took its toll, met the pair warmly as he was want to do. He listened, growing increasingly concerned as Mister Titus sheepishly explained last night's encounters, and retold with absolute frankness all that had occurred between them earlier – sparing only the sheer amount of cursing Isabelle had done. When all was explained, Mr Hachi thanked him. “I will take Isabelle from here. Please, sit down my dear. Can I get you something? A drink?”
“No sir, I'm okay,” she answered.
“No you are not. You are a long way from okay,” he replied with a grandfatherly tone. “You poor dear, all these buried emotions bubbling to the surface! We've really let you down, haven't we? Myself most of all – you've been one of my Cubs since I took up the duties of a House teacher. I really should have been more attentive to you, made sure you had the time and space to process everything. The signs were all there though, weren't they? How you were always so quick to keep putting your bottom on the line, as if you felt you ought to still be a penitatas...”
“Sir, that's not your fault. I just- it was-” she huffed in frustration, with Hachi offering a tissue in response to her sniffling. She took it and blew her nose.
“We'll work through this however you need us to,” the kindly old Karrian continued. “If I may, I'd like to make a few suggestions. First, you should ease up on your self-flagellation. I understand that 'taking your licks' makes it easier for your Penny friends to accept you, but I fear it's also going to reinforce the idea that you are still a penitatas, which you are not. You are on parole, on your way to being a free woman again. Embrace that.”
“The next point I would suggest is we put a few more restrictions upon you. Nothing major, but just enough to help steer you in the right direction. It is... unusual for rejuves to engage in adult behaviour with an actual adult, for example. You are of course free to do so, but be sure it is truly what you want. I know Mister Titus is a frightening chap, but I've known him for a long time; deep down, I know he's absolutely mortified at the idea he might have hurt you. That cruelty he puts on is for penitatas, and you are a penitatas no more.”
Isabelle accepted the words with a shy nod. “I... I really overstepped, didn't I? By accusing him of being Sir Andy, I mean.”
Mr Hachi nodded. “Yes, you most certainly did. If Mister Titus were indeed Andronicus Marquis prior to the youth's erasure, then to actively unveil that fact as you did is a gross violation of social etiquette, as well as Corrections Department rules. It's also quite rude!”
Despite her present state, Isabelle snickered. “Will you tell him I'm sorry, please? I don't think I can face him again for a while after all that's happened.”
“My dear, I guarantee he's already forgiven you. Next time you see him it'll be as if none of this ever happened.”
“I'm glad. Because... I might want to have another 'encounter' with him sometime.”
“Miss Isabelle!” Hachi cried in feigned shock, causing more fits of laughter from the girl. “Well, it does my heart good to see you smile. May I offer one last, tiny bit of advice? Don't hate yourself for loving someone else.”
“What do you mean?” the fox girl asked, suddenly sober.
Mr Hachi gave her paws a kind squeeze. “Timothy Miller is gone. You aren't cheating on him, or betraying his love by finding someone new. I'm sure that he would want you to find happiness again. From what Mister Titus has said, and how important he clearly was to you, Timothy filled your life with love. I imagine he would want you to pay it forward. Go find someone to love, Isabelle, and give them the same joy he gave you.”
A nervousness crept over the girl's muzzle. “When he left, it broke my heart,” she confessed.
“I know, parting hurts. But all these years was that what you thought of? Whenever you thought of Timothy, did you remember the pain of losing him? Or did you remember the joy?”
Slowly, and with confidence, Isabelle began to smile. “The joy. Always the joy.”
“Then have no fear. Northrock is full of reasons to cry, Miss Isabelle, your eventual departure will be just one of many. But those you leave behind will treasure you forever. I promise.”
“Mr Hachi... I wish you were my age,” Isabelle sighed, making the old man chuckle.
“Hey, you never know! This body of mine is getting awfully creaky in all the wrong places! It won't be all that long before there's another Voluntaras in Northrock, and he would be honoured to have a friend like you.”
Hachi opened his arms wide, inviting Isabelle in for a hug she gratefully accepted. “I needed that. Thank you. I promise I'll speak to my parents when I get home, and I won't let things bubble up inside me like this again.”
“If it happens, my door is always open.”
Feeling light and free of burdens, Isabelle stepped back from the hug and gave a shy wave. “I... I will leave you to it. Don't want my parents worrying.”
“Of course. Have a pleasant evening, Isabelle.”
She paused at the door, glancing over her shoulder to whisper. “Goodbye, Timothy.”
“Hmm? Did you say something?” Mr Hachi asked.
“Just... moving on, like you said I should.” The door clicked shut behind her, leaving her ghosts behind. Now alone, but far from lonely, Isabelle skipped through the school with a swish in her tail, wondering if she'd be allowed to visit Talek for an impromptu play-date...