The soft morning light filtered through the beige curtains, gently striping Yuki Ayano's bedroom walls. Yuki rose up quietly and brushed the sleep from her eyes, sitting up carefully on her bed. Waiting on the chair behind her desk, her school uniform was navy blue cloth with sharp white stripes across the sleeves and a brilliant red ribbon meticulously knotted at the front.
Dressing attentively, she ironed every crease with her hands to ensure perfection. Her beautiful blonde hair hung freely over her shoulders. She sighed quietly while gazing into the mirror.
"This will not work," she said quietly, shaking her head.
Padding along the corridor, she sensed the calm stillness of the mansion around her. All was quiet and clean. Wearing a lovely grin, she quietly entered the kitchen.
Yuki greeted, "Morning, Papa."
At the kitchen table, her father sat peacefully with his newspaper spread out before him. His spectacles sat low on his nose, and his gray hair was adequately groomed. He murmured without looking up.
"Yuki, anything unique today?"
Smiling at her mother's back, she looked to the sink. Humming a gentle tune, her mother stood softly at the sink washing dishes.
"Good morning, Mama."
"Good morning, dear," her mother murmured gently and quietly.
Yuki remarked, reaching inside the fridge, "My math assignment is due today."
Her parents spoke in unison, their voices harmonizing exactly. You will be fantastic. After all, you are our perfect girl.
Yuki let out a soft, awkward laugh, her cheeks turning a little red.
"Thanks… I'll just fix my hair real quick."
In the bathroom, she combed her hair carefully into a high ponytail. Smiling with delight, she examined her reflection from all angles.
She told herself with confidence, "Today will be great."
Before leaving, she picked up the lavender spray from the bathroom counter and softly misted every room—the bedroom, hallway, kitchen, and living room. She stopped as she passed the clock in the living room.
"Goodness! It's nearly eight. I should rush!"
She quickly grabbed her purse and slid into her shoes by the front entrance.
Yuki called gently, "Mom? Dad?"
Her parents stood peacefully at the front window of the living room, waving gently, their grins serene and pleasant. They remained silent and only waved softly.
Yuki grinned and opened the door, hoping not to bother them. She thought they were waving at the neighbors who had moved in yesterday.
"Mom and Dad, I'll see you later."
She went outside into the morning sun's soothing warmth. Confidently walking into school, her hair swung softly, and she was confident in her heart that it would be a great day.
The hallways were filled with students anxiously rushing past with their papers in hand, lockers banging, and school halls buzzing with conversation. Amidst the chaos, Yuki quietly and gracefully navigated among them.
A loud moan erupted behind her, followed by heavy footsteps. Her hair was disheveled, and her eyes were swollen. Riko fell forward.
Riko lamented theatrically, "Did you even glance at last night's math assignment? My brain's fried! I was awake until two in the morning."
Yuki chuckled. "Was it that difficult?"
Riko dramatically fell against a locker. "It was impossible! You are not the least bit concerned."
Looking at her tidy notes, Yuki smiled softly. I believe I got it correct, but I'm not sure.
Shaking her head, Riko moaned heavily. "It's not fair how simple everything is for you."
Yuki just shrugged off and maintained her courteous grin. If only Riko knew, she mused, clutching her books more tightly.
Everyone within the classroom was buzzing nervously, exchanging notes and stressing over their tasks. Near the back, a group of females leaned near and spoke violently.
"Look at her," one snarled, staring at Yuki. "I bet she's going to get a perfect score again."
"Ugh, I know," said another quietly back angrily. "It's as if she was born flawless or something. It's just not fair."
"She should be locked up just for being that pretty," the first girl grumbled.
A group of lads across the room laughed loudly and playfully shoved one another.
One of the guys said, "Hey, does Miss Perfect even have a boyfriend?"
Suddenly, a thin boy with glasses, acne, and slumped shoulders stood up.
"Guys, I'm going to ask her out." He said.
His buddies instantly seemed appalled.
One spoke loudly, clutching his arm violently, "Kenji, are you out of your mind? You'll go blind just looking at her!"
Kenji dismissed their cautions with overblown confidence. "Amateurs, step aside. Allow me to demonstrate how a pro manages things."
Nervously, Kenji walked towards Yuki's desk, his buddies parting. As he approached, Yuki looked in his direction; her beaming grin brightened her face.
"Morning, Igaguri Kenji!" she joyfully welcomed him.
Her flawless white teeth appeared to shine forth, blinding Kenji. He abruptly halted and dramatically covered his eyes.
"No! She's too bright! I-I can't see!" he said, tripping backward and almost toppling down.
Kenji's friends burst into laughter, shaking their heads as they teased him.
One yelled, "We told you, man!"
Rubbing his eyes, Kenji whined jokingly, "Sorry, guys. That smile? Unreal. She's gotta be an actual angel or something."
Riko stretched and yawned as she walked up to Yuki's desk, looking exhausted.
"I did some of the math assignment," she sighed, "but I'm nowhere near done. I'm so screwed."
Yuki gently laughed and gave her notes.
"Here, please make use of my own. After all, we are besties."
Riko fell to her knees. "Yuki, you angel! I don't know what I'd do without you!"
The classroom door opened violently before Riko could grab the notes. Their teacher marched in, her eyes scanning the room like a hawk.
"Okay, everyone—settle down. Let's get that math homework in, don't make me ask twice."
Riko's optimistic look changed immediately to sadness, and tears began to form in her eyes.
Yuki chuckled softly, "Good luck."
When Miss Nishimura stood at the front of the class clutching the amended math papers, one hour had gone. Names were called out one by one. As students gathered their papers, quiet cheers and sad sighs permeated the classroom.
Seeing her paper, Riko fell forward and gripped it hard as though it might bite her.
"Twenty percent? I'm so doomed," Riko said dejectedly.
Then Yuki Ayano's name appeared. The room immediately became silent as everyone observed Yuki rising quietly from her chair. Politely taking the paper, she moved elegantly to Miss Nishimura.
Miss Nishimura remarked gently, seeming somewhat worried,
"Another flawless score, Yuki Ayano. Well done."
Whispers spread through the room.
"Of course. Miss Perfect again," someone muttered.
"She really thinks she's better than the rest of us," another said.
"Such a show-off," a voice added, just loud enough for Yuki to hear.
Holding her courteous grin, Yuki did her best to disregard the comments. She bowed a little.
"Thanks, Miss Nishimura."
Miss Nishimura softly touched Yuki's shoulder as she returned to her seat.
The instructor said quietly, "Could you remain behind for a moment after class?"
Yuki suddenly felt the lesson, looking at her even more strongly. From across the room, she noticed Riko's inquisitive look and gently nodded.
Yuki said softly, "Of course," maintaining her composure as she sat back down.
The classroom rapidly cleared when the departure bell rang, full of laughing, conversation, and relieved sighs. Yuki sat calmly at her desk, pretending to concentrate on the tidy lines of her notepad. Her pulse started to race a little.
Miss Nishimura walked over slowly, arms folded loosely, her face calm but thoughtful. She was young—probably in her late twenties—and always had a way of carrying herself with quiet confidence.
Her straight black hair fell neatly just past her shoulders, framing her face in a way that made her look both serious and graceful. Her dark brown eyes were sharp, like she was always paying attention to everything at once. She wore a fitted black blouse and matching pants—no tie just clean and neat.
Speaking gently, Miss Nishimura paused next to Yuki's desk.
"Yuki, everything is outstanding—your grades, your conduct. Honestly, you amaze me."
Yuki raised her gaze.
"Yuki," Miss Nishimura said gently, her voice calm and kind. "I hope you don't mind me bringing this up, but I haven't had the chance to meet your parents yet...They haven't attended any school events or parent-teacher meetings, and I've tried reaching out a few times with no luck." She paused for a moment. "Is everything okay at home?"
Yuki's fingers clutched the desk's edge as she felt an unexpected tightness in her chest. Maintaining a calm and courteous tone, she quickly gathered herself.
"They're busy."
Miss Nishimura stopped, perhaps considering Yuki's reaction. Her look became softer, and her eyes filled with mild worry.
"I understand. But Yuki, my door is always open if you ever need assistance—anything at all."
Yuki rose slowly, her movement elegant yet restrained. She bowed politely and slightly.
"Thank you, Miss Nishimura. I value it."
Hoping no more inquiries would follow her, she swiftly turned and exited the classroom.
When Yuki Ayano walked home, the sun was low, and the sky was orange. Her heart warmed at the familiar view, so every footstep felt lighter as she was near her home. Calm, friendly grins, her parents waved warmly from the front window. Her pout soon gave way to joy.
Rushing towards the home, she shouted, "Mom! Dad! I'm coming!"
But behind her, Miss Nishimura remained at a distance, quietly following out of worry. Her eyes opened as she approached, and a flood of anxiety swept over her. The home was not how Yuki appeared to view it. Instead, it was dirty, with greasy marks on the walls and ceiling. Ugly graffiti written on it yelled terrible words—cruel profanities flashing out in the fading sunshine.
Stepping closer and climbing gently over the fence to gain a good glimpse, Miss Nishimura's breath raced. What she saw in the glass window caused her to pause in shock. Propped up within the window, two dolls' arms lifted rigidly as if permanently waving: one clothed as a man in a suit, the other as a woman in an apron.
Her heart thumped in her ears.
"Did Yuki refer to these dolls as Mom and Dad?"
Yuki entered, yelling again, "Mom, Dad, I'm home!"
A firm tap on the door caught her off guard and made her heart race. Eyes wide and wary, she turned.
"Yuki?" Miss Nishimura, her instructor, remarked softly yet firmly. "Please open the door."
Yuki took a deep breath and opened the door carefully, pushing a pleasant grin on her face. "Miss Nishimura, oh! It's you."
Miss Nishimura smiled nervously, obviously attempting to be casual. "I happened to be walking by and saw you head inside, I figured it might be a good time to finally meet your parents."
Yuki's grin faded a little as her voice became softer. "They're resting now. I don't know whether they are free."
With her eyes brimming with calm worry, Miss Nishimura slowly leaned forward. "If it's okay… just for a moment. I'd really like to check in."
Miss Nishimura steadily walked closer, her gaze roving around the room before Yuki could object any further. The worn-out wallpaper, the dim flickering lights, and the pungent smell flooded her senses. Her eyes landed on several garbage bags piled in the corner, black liquid oozing across the floor. Her face grew more concerned.
Yuki gave a faint, uncertain smile, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Okay, Miss Nishimura… I'll take you to them. Just follow me."
Miss Nishimura gulped, her heart racing with worry. Nervously, her gaze flitted over the house's condition: the peeling wallpaper, the filthy walls, and the odd, disturbing mood.
"Thank you," miss Nishimura said quietly, her voice strained with concern.
They walked along the dark corridor. Every footfall reverberated softly, accentuating the developing thick quiet between them. The corridor is divided into two bedrooms. Yuki gently opened the door to the right-hand room.
Her voice was unexpectedly cheerful but shaky as she entered. "Mom, Dad… my teacher came to see you. She just wanted to check how you're both doing."
Standing in the doorway, Miss Nishimura felt her heart drop—she could hardly believe what she was seeing. The air was thick and stuffy, carrying a sharp smell that made her stomach turn. The room was filled with trash and broken glass.
She spotted two pale bodies lying still under old, stained blankets. Medical tubes ran from their arms to quiet machines, the soft flicker and hum adding to the unease. Their eyes were open, but empty—staring off into nowhere.
The absolute terror, however, was Yuki herself.
Ignoring the ailing bodies, she advanced toward two porcelain dolls pushed next to the bedside table. Smiling softly, the dolls' arms bent in a quiet wave. With shaking fingers, Yuki stretched out and gently touched them.
Nervously chuckling, she said,
"Mama, Papa… come on, stop messing around. Miss Nishimura didn't come here to scold me about my math assignment."
Miss Nishimura stood frozen, her thoughts spinning, breath caught in her throat. In front of her, Yuki sat beside two dolls, speaking to them gently—as if they were her parents. But just a few feet away, her real parents lay in bed, pale and unmoving, surrounded by trash and decay. Fighting the urge to throw up, Miss Nishimura pressed a hand to her mouth.
"They wave to me every morning," Yuki said with a trembling smile, her eyes never leaving the dolls. "They say goodbye when I leave. They wait for me to come home."
Miss Nishimura stepped forward, her heart aching. "Yuki… you don't have to keep pretending."
Yuki flinched but didn't turn around. "I'm not pretending," she said defensively, though her voice wavered. "This is just how things are."
Miss Nishimura gently placed a hand on Yuki's shoulder. "Yuki, please… look at them."
Yuki shook her head. "I spray lavender every day so they can rest peacefully. I open the curtains. I talk to them. It's normal."
"No, sweetheart," Miss Nishimura said, her voice thick with emotion. "It's not."
Yuki was quiet for a moment. Then, barely audible, she whispered, "I didn't want anyone to know."
"You don't have to carry this by yourself."
"I wasn't going to tell anyone. Ever."
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the soft, mechanical whir of the machines beside the bed.
"But you let me in," Miss Nishimura said gently.
Yuki's voice cracked. "I didn't mean to."
"But you did."
Yuki turned her head slightly, just enough for Miss Nishimura to see the tears in her eyes. "I thought if I just kept going… if I smiled enough, worked hard enough…"
Yuki's lips trembled. "They can't move. They can't talk. But they're still my parents. And I—" her breath caught, "—I don't know what else to do."
"You've done everything you could," Miss Nishimura said, placing a hand over Yuki's. "But you don't have to keep doing it alone."
Yuki's voice was barely a whisper. "I'm not a good daughter, am I?"
"No," Miss Nishimura said softly but firmly. "You're just a daughter who's been hurting for a very long time."
Yuki finally turned to face her, eyes red, body trembling. "I didn't want you to see this. I didn't want you to see me like this."
"I know," Miss Nishimura nodded.
"You'll think I'm broken."
"I don't."
"You will."
Miss Nishimura gave her the smallest smile. "I'm still here, aren't I?"
Yuki broke.
The mask she'd worn so tightly cracked open. Her body collapsed forward as she clutched Miss Nishimura's sleeve, sobbing uncontrollably into her shoulder. Her tears came fast, like floodgates bursting after years of pressure.
"I just wanted to be perfect," she cried, voice shaking. "If I was perfect, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe they wouldn't have gotten sick. Maybe everything wouldn't feel so wrong."
Miss Nishimura said nothing. She didn't have to. She wrapped her arms around the girl and held her.
In that quiet moment, Miss Nishimura knew the perfect girl was gone.
But standing before her was someone honest, someone who desperately needed help and was finally ready to receive it.