Creation 1: The Strawberry Doll

Eve – Code Battle Seraph
Raven – Blade Master

Nine years ago, my father died a mysterious death. He was in his workshop, creating yet another masterpiece of a doll when his head was cut clean off. And beside him, my body laid, numb, my legs soaked with his blood. Placed amongst the various limbs and torsos of his unfinished creations, I looked exactly like one of father's dolls.

"…What a disgusting child, she's not even crying at her own relative's funeral."

"Does she have any other relatives? No? Poor thing, what will we do with you now…"

It is a very faint memory, but I recall the day of the funeral. Many of my father's clients and fans were there, but no one mourned for his death.

"But I have to wonder, Nasodia did have some other dolls right? Imagine how much they could be sold for if they were found!"

No one mourned for him. They never knew my father, they only liked him for his works, his so-called "celestial dolls". Dolls, dolls. Always about the dolls. I never understood why he loved them so much.

"Look Eve! This is my newest creation, isn't she beautiful? She looks exactly like you."

…Father, were you not satisfied with your real daughter? Creating a doll that simply looked like me, was that enough for you?

I hated them. Despised them. The dolls that my father poured blood and sweat into. His precious dolls that everyone loved. If he wasn't a doll maker, he could've lived. And maybe… Just maybe, he would have loved me a little more…

I picked up a small box and brushed the dust off. Despite being many years old, the wood stayed healthy and intact, the numbers '207' carved elegantly in the lid of the box. Beneath it, 'Arbutus Puella', Strawberry Maiden.

I opened the box to reveal a delicate little doll sleeping peacefully on a soft lining. What a small doll, small nose, small lips, small hands… Her eyes were closed yet she looked so peaceful. Her light brown hair curled around her shoulders, laying over her frilly, pink-colored dress. Gently, I lifted her up. Although she was almost the length of my arm, she felt very light, so, so light. So small, so cold. Placing the box down, I turned the doll over and zipped down her dress. On her back, painted ever so finely, was a black-ink drawing of a rose entangled with a crescent moon – the mark of my genius, doll-making father.

I zipped the dress back up and carefully repacked the doll, making sure there were no loose hair strands before I closed the lid. I sighed. Even after my father's death, I have to rely on his dolls. How pathetic…

Picking up the box once more, I left the storage room, entering the lounge, where all business transactions are executed. Sitting on a couch was one of my clients, an elderly man who was one of my father's greatest fans.

"Here you are, sir. Doll number two-hundred-seven, the Strawberry Maiden." I opened the box, allowing the man to see the little doll resting inside. He let out a gasp.

"This… This is the genuine article! How much is she? I'll pay any price!"

'Any price'? I glanced over the man, dressed finely in a black tuxedo. He was beginning to salivate. How disgusting.

"I believe one-billion ED is a fair exchange." I responded. To my surprise, the man quickly nodded his head in succession and pulled out a checkbook. Furiously, he wrote the stated amount and handed the check over to me, his eyes constantly flickering towards the sleeping maiden in my arms. Disgusting.

Taking ahold of the check, I looked over it to make sure all the details were correct. After confirming that it was a legitimate check, I closed the box and handed it over to the man.

"Here you are, sir. Please remember to take care of your new doll. Thank you for your patronage."

The man grabbed the box and clutched it tightly to his chest.

"Oh, my doll, my sweet, sweet doll… I'll take good care of you, don't worry! You won't be lonely either, I have many other sisters waiting at home for you. Oh, my sweet child…" As he continued to mumble to himself, he walked to the front door and left. Even as the door closed behind him, I could still hear his low voice murmuring sweetly. Disgusting.

Clutching the check in my hands, I paced over to a nearby cabinet and opened the first drawer. Taking out the notebook, I removed the attached pen and recorded down the transaction along with a handwritten copy of the check and client's information. Oh? How strange. This was his third purchase this month. He must be a really wealthy man.

I closed the notebook and returned it to the drawer, then proceeded towards the kitchen. A nice cup of tea would be nice to have right now…

As I stepped into the white-marble kitchen, I saw the dining table set up with a tea set, a faint trail of steam rising from the pot. Sitting in a seat, with his legs crossed as usual, was Raven. Seated so gracefully, with a cup in his hands, his eyes closed and a faint smile on his lips, you would think he was a model. Although his hair was long and matted down, his ears were still as sharp as ever. He opened his eyes and turned to face me.

"Hello Eve. Care to join me for a cup of tea? It's chamomile, your favorite."

His smile grew slightly, invitingly. As I walked over and seated myself, I noticed that there were only two teacups. As if he was expecting me. He poured the tea into the empty cup and added three sugar cubes before handing it to me.

"Thank you." I said politely, taking ahold of the cup. So warm. The earthy scent of the tea wafted in the air. I raised the cup and took a sip. So warm, so sweet.

"So you've sold another one of your father's dolls today."

I placed the cup down, lowering my gaze.

"Of course. It is regrettable to say, but at this moment, there are currently no other sources of income we can rely on."

He nodded slowly in response, the smile gone from his lips.

Silence.

I raised my cup again, only to be interrupted by Raven's voice.

"It's a shame though. I'm sure your father would've been pleased seeing you taking care of his dolls."

I couldn't help but smile at that.

"Impossible. You should know just as well as I, that my father loved his dolls more than anything else in the world."

"That's not true. Your father embedded his love for you in his dolls. That's why they're all so magnificent."

He gave a knowing smile, and somehow, I felt myself waver a bit. Raven was my father's one and only apprentice, and despite only being a couple years older than I, it seems like he was the person who knew my father the best. He was… Also the one who took me in after the funeral. I felt that I could trust his words, but I refused to believe them. It couldn't be true. The father, that made a doll resembling his wife when she died, who made a doll resembling his daughter, the father who devoted his entire life to creating dolls… There was no way he could love another human as much as his dolls. There's no way…

I felt a hand on my head and looked up to see Raven patting me. He smiled gently.

"Now, now, there's no need to make that kind of sad face. I'm sure he's happy that his dolls were able to help you out."

I nodded in response, causing his smile to widen. Retracting his hand, he continued, "Now then, since you're doing your best, I too, should start working a bit harder…"

Raven was a doll maker like my father. Although his dolls were far more beautiful than my father's, they were not nearly as popular for some reason. Perhaps it is due to the fact that he has only made a few dolls, and thus, has not yet made a name for himself. Every evening, he goes to his workshop and spends hours in there. On rare nights, I can hear him shouting, accompanied by the sharp sounds of shattered porcelain or china, followed by quiet sobbing. Although he always shows such a kind and friendly face, on those nights, I realize that I really don't know anything about him…

"Is something the matter?"

"Ah, no. It's nothing. Don't push yourself too much okay?" Raven merely smiled in response.

With nothing else to say, I stood up and thanked him for the tea, before retreating to the comforts of my room. Leaning on the door, I glanced at the photograph that hung on the wall across, one of the few photos I have of my family. Within the thick frames, father's smiling, beside him was my mother, dressed in the regal clothes she wore before she fell ill. And in the middle, me, holding tightly onto both of their hands. I smiled, reminiscing the days when my father's dolls were my friends.

~ Author's Notes ~

...Hi, I'm back with another new story, haha (I blame Messiah). I probably won't update very often, as usual, but this idea has been in my mind for a while, so who knows? I'll definitely go back and complete all the other incomplete stories (including those one-shots), but in the meantime, be sure to check out MessiahofDar's rework of his "Bonds of the Heart". But for now, as always, thank you for reading, and I hope you will enjoy the story~!