The Perfect Daughter

"Hello, my name is Haruhi Fujioka and it's nice to meet you," the girl said.

Gritting my teeth, I kept my face blank before introducing myself. But before I could open my mouth to say anything, the childish voice of my younger sister rang out.

"Nice to meet you too onee-san!" She giggled before jumping onto Haruhi, squeezing her in her scrawny but strong arms. Her silk, jet-black hair was tied into piggy tails, and she was still wearing her Elementary school uniform that made her look like a character from Sailor Moon. Haruhi's eyes widened a bit from surprise, but her expression relaxed and she returned my younger sister's hug. Mother smiled as she watched the two girls while standing next to me.

"These are my two daughters, Hitomi and Hotaru Hayashi. I am Akira Hayashi, but I don't mind what you choose to call me," my mother's soft eyes twinkled. Her caramel hair was pulled back into a loose, low ponytail, and even though she wore simple clothes, she still looked stunning. I looked nothing like her. My long, thin hair seemed stringy compared to my mother's fluffy curls.

"My, you're really as pretty as Ryoji described!" My mother was gazing at Haruhi with sparkling eyes; she was genuinely happy to have met her.

"And your daughters are sooo adorable! Well, they'll soon be my daughters too!" Haruhi's father, "Ryoji" suddenly pulled me into a tight hug.

"You're just so cute I could just squeeze you super hard!" I couldn't breathe. Pushing him away from me and gasping for air, I heard Hotaru giggle. When I looked up, I saw Hotaru being spun around while being hugged my our soon-to-be stepfather.

"Wheeee!" She was smiling while closing her eyes and my mother started laughing. I stared at her. I hadn't seen her laugh like that for years...

"Let's not have too much fun now," mother scooped Hotaru out from her fiance's arms. My younger sister gently kissed mother's cheek before being set down.

"Is this man going to be our new daddy?" She asked sweetly. Upon hearing the word "daddy," the man named Ryoji brought both his hands up to his face, and he started swooning over how adorable Hotaru was as if he was some love-sick high school girl.

"Awww! You sweet thing! Yes! Call me daddy from now on!" Hotaru was picked up and spun around once again. I had been watching the scene before me while wearing an emotionless mask; my face did not betray a single thought that I was thinking or a single emotion that I was feeling. To onlookers, I would've seemed to be an ocean of calm, a pillar of peace. No one would suspect that a storm of ugly emotions swarmed inside of me.

I was staring at her. She had the perfect shade of chocolate brown hair, and an angelic smile painted on that perfect, porcelain face. She wore the same kind expression my mother did, and to observers it would have seemed as if Haruhi was actually my mother's daughter, not me.

"We should get going," Ryoji gently set Hotaru down on the ground once more as he glanced at his watch.

We all ate dinner together at a Traditional Japanese Restaurant, and my sister and I were asked many questions by Ryoji. My answers were all short and to the point, and I let Hotaru ramble on and on about herself. For a six-year-old, she had a lot of things to say. Mother would ask Haruhi questions about herself as well, and her responses were only slightly longer than mine. Slightly.

The food served a the restaurant was decent enough but in general, dinner was too loud. Hotaru enjoyed every moment of it of course; she rarely got to eat with mom or at a restaurant. She had always complained about how all her other friends got to eat at family restaurants often while she was always stuck at home eating whatever I cooked her. I wasn't a horrible cook, but I wasn't a good one either. According to Ryoji however, Haruhi was a wonderful cook. Of course she would be.

"So Hitomi, what do you enjoy doing in your spare time?" The man gave me a warm smile that resembled his daughter's, and his warm eyes were twinkling at me. Looking down at my bowl, I gently stirred the remainder of my udon with my chopsticks.

"Nothing really," I lied in a flat tone. He chuckled.

"You and Haruhi sure have similar personalities, I hope you girls will get along," I looked over at Haruhi, who looked as if she was in bliss as she devoured her tuna.

"Yes..." I resumed eating my dinner despite being full to avoid any more conversation. Mother kept on smiling and laughing throughout the night even though her fiance wasn't particularly funny. Hotaru also beamed continuously; she loved seeing mom happy, that's all she really wanted. Hotaru never stopped moving that tiny mouth of hers: she even told Ryoji about the time she pushed down this one boy who wouldn't get off of the swing even though his turn was up.

I felt so numb throughout the evening; I felt tired, and the noises and voices around me were just muffled sound. It was like watching a T.V show: I was not a part of it. Everything felt surreal, and I felt as if I was disconnected from reality. The restaurant I was sitting in, the food I was eating, the people I talked to, they just seemed as if they were from some distant memory, or a dream even. This can't be happening. No. Everything was fine before, it was always just me, my sister, and mother. No one else was in the picture, no one else. But starting from now, things will be different.

Even though she didn't say anything, I knew that Mother liked Haruhi very much. Haruhi is an honors student; she's on a scholarship and attends the most prestigious school in Japan, Ouran Academy. The school where only the very rich and fortunate could go to. Haruhi is a wonderful cook, and she has many friends at school and is well-liked by everyone. Haruhi has big, doe-like eyes that could melt even the coldest of hearts. Haruhi has a sweet, warm smile that rivals even Hotaru's. Haruhi is my mother's dream child. Haruhi is the benevolent, beautiful princess in the fairy tale stories I read as a child. Haruhi is snow-white; Haruhi is Cinderella. Haruhi, is everything that I'm not.