Welcome to Fujioshi Academy

You open your eyes. A harsh, sterile light hums aggressively from a panel above you, making you squint. The faint smell of antiseptic and old dust fills your nostrils. You're lying on a cold, hard surface, clad only in a flimsy paper gown that feels brittle to the touch. The silence in the room is absolute, but it's a heavy, listening silence. Outside the door, which hangs slightly ajar, you hear a sudden, wet shriek, abruptly cut short. Then, the sound of something—or someone—running, the slaps of bare feet on linoleum echoing with terrifying speed.