Hikaru Genji was not a happy person. Especially in the morning. So when his caretaker (AKA older sister) saw him at six thirty a.m., smiling and humming to himself, she was more than a little curious. Her little brother had always been awfully weak at health, and his legs were deformed at birth. They looked a little thinner and smaller than the rest of his body, and they couldn't really support him. He could stand up every now and then, but he could barely take a step before he ended up crashing onto the ground. But this wasn't the reason why he was an emo and grumpy little brat. Apparently, it ran in the family. The older sister, Hikari, wasn't very cheery herself. "Good morning, Hikaru-chan," she said, bending down to give her wheelchair bound little brother a peck on the forehead. "You seems very happy this morning. May I ask why?" "It's my 18th birthday." was his curt reply. Hikaru glared at his sister half-heartedly. He didn't really like to talk, and he was thinking. The image that he was trying to perfect in his mind disappeared, and it was because Hikari interupted him. It didn't really took him much effort to rethink it, though. "You wasn't very excited on your 17th birthday. Spill it. I'm your sister, I would appreciate it if you talk to me a little more." Hikaru growled. "Okay fine! I had a nice dream, okay?" A dream of a beautiful girl, sitting in a field of soft, green grass. Her beautiful smile was imprinted in his head, and he remembered her every features. Hikaru didn't wait for his sister to comment. He left the kitchen, where she was making breakfast, and wheeled around his large mansion. It looked haunted and gothic on the outside, but it was his home and he loved the place. To him it was the perfect, coziest home he could ever ask for, though having his parents around more often would be nice. They were usually working. The basement was where he truly belongs, among his tools and artworks. The wooden table where he create his dolls, slowly with love and care, the shelves where he placed his masterpieces and favorites, those that he just loved so much and of course, the dolls themself. They looked so natural and alive, he hardly find them strange and creepy. He never make them just for money, and he really hoped his customers loved them as much as he did. Today, strangely, Hikaru just started on a new doll, without a sketch to base it on, or an order. His fingers just moved instinctively. Molding a life sized head of a girl. He worked happily, ignoring Hikari and staying inside the basement the whole day, only coming out a couple of times. Some time around midnight, Hikaru finally pull away from the face of his doll and examine it. It looked strangely familiar, but he wasn't very surprised. He usually make his dolls based on real people. But if he had looked at it properly before he went to sleep, he would have noticed that the doll was an exact replica of the girl in his dream.