Sunlight came in through the curtains of Yuki Ayano's bedroom.
She sat up, slow and groggy, and rubbed at her eyes.
Her uniform was on the chair by her desk. Navy blue, with white stripes along the sleeves. The red ribbon sat on top, already tied, like it had been waiting for her. The long dark blue skirt hung just below her knees.
She got dressed, smoothing out every wrinkle with her hands. Her blonde hair hung over her shoulders. She usually tied it into a ponytail before leaving the house, but for now, she let it fall around her face.
The morning light touched her pale skin, giving it a soft glow. Her brown eyes—with just a hint of amber—blinked as she looked at herself in the mirror.
A few strands of hair had already slipped out of place.
"Hm. Not quite right," she said, shaking her head.
She walked down the hallway, taking in the quiet around her. The house was clean and quiet just the way she liked it.
With a soft smile, she stepped into the kitchen.
"Morning, Papa," Yuki said.
At the kitchen table, her father sat peacefully with his newspaper spread out before him. His glasses sat low on his nose, and his gray hair was adequately groomed. He murmured without looking up.
"Yuki, anything unique today?"
Yuki glanced toward the sink and smiled at her mom, who was washing the dishes.
"Good morning, Mama."
"Good morning, dear," her mother said.
Yuki remarked, reaching inside the fridge looking for food, "My math assignment is due today."
Her parents spoke in unison, their voices harmonizing.
"You will do great. After all, you are our perfect girl."
Yuki let out a short breath of a laugh, her fingers brushing her cheek as her eyes dropped for a moment.
"Ah... you guys always say that," she said, her voice soft, almost amused.
"I'm just gonna fix my hair now."
In the bathroom, she combed her hair carefully into a high ponytail. Smiling with delight, she examined her reflection from all angles.
"Today will be great day," she said with confidence.
Before heading out, she grabbed the lavender spray from the bathroom counter and gave each room a light mist—starting with the bedroom, then the hallway, kitchen, and finally the living room.
She stopped moving as she passed the clock in the living room.
"Goodness! It's nearly eight. I should rush!"
She quickly grabbed her backpack 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 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 ponytail swung softly, and she was confident in her heart that it would be a great day.
The school hallway 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 navigated among them.
A loud moan echoed behind her, followed by dragging footsteps.
Riko Fuyumi stumbled forward. Her black dress hung loosely on her, swaying with each step. Her black hair was messy and fell over her face, sticking to her fair skin. Her black eyes were swollen, with dark circles underneath like she hadn't slept in days. Riko wore a silver bracelet with a tiny skull charm hanging from it.
"Ugh... I'm so done..." Riko mumbled, her voice low and scratchy.
"I think I slept for, like... twenty minutes. Did you even glance at last night's math assignment?" Riko Fuyumi said.
Yuki chuckled.
"Was it that difficult?"
Riko dramatically fell against her 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.
"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 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 round glasses stood up. His brown hair was cut into a bowl shape, framing his face awkwardly. His shoulders were slouched, like he was trying to make himself smaller.
Red acne dotted his cheeks and chin. He wore a plain white long-sleeve shirt tucked neatly into stiff black pants—pressed too sharply, like they'd been ironed by someone else and never worn before.
His brown eyes darted around the room, unsure of where to land.
"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 just now," 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 and said,
"Good luck."
When Miss Nishimura stood at the front of the class clutching the corrected math papers, one hour had gone by.
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.
Then Yuki Ayano's name was called.
The room immediately became silent as everyone observed Yuki rising 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 said,
"Could you remain behind for a moment after class?"
The room felt quiet all of a sudden.
Yuki could feel eyes on her—more than before.
She shifted in her seat, her hands resting still on her desk.
Across the room, Riko was looking at her.
Yuki gave her a small nod, like she was saying, I'm okay.
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.
Behind the living room window, her parents waved with huge smiles on their faces.
Yuki's frown faded, and a bright smile took its place.
She ran toward the house, shouting,
"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 living room window, two dolls' arms lifted rigidly as if permanently waving—one clothed as a man in a suit with gray hair and glasses, the other as a woman in an apron and long brown hair.
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 Yuki off guard and made her heart race.
Eyes wide and wary, Yuki turned.
"Yuki Ayano?" Miss Nishimura, her instructor, remarked softly.
"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."
Yuki felt like she could not object any further.
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 across the room—the peeling wallpaper, the stained walls, the piles of garbage bags crowding the corners. The air was thick with a sour, rotting smell that made her eyes sting.
Miss Nishimura lifted a hand to cover her mouth and nose, trying not to breathe too deeply.
Oh God, that awful smell… Does she not see it?It was like Yuki had convinced herself the trash didn't exist, as if she'd erased it from her mind entirely, Miss Nishimura thought.
"Thank you," Miss Nishimura said quietly, her voice tight with worry.
They walked along the dark corridor. Their footsteps barely making a sound.
The corridor is divided into two bedrooms.
Yuki gently opened the door to the right-hand room.
Yuki's 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.
Yuki Ayano ignored her parents' sick bodies and walked over to the two porcelain dolls sitting by the bedside table. The dolls looked exactly like the ones from the living room window.
Smiling softly, the dolls' arms bent in a wave.
With shaking fingers, Yuki stretched out and gently touched them.
Nervously chuckling, she said,
"Huh...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.