DISCLAIMER: I don't own Elfen Lied or any of the major characters in the series.

This story is based on my one-shot fiction Vectors over the air, which I recommend you read as a basis. Set 4 years after the end of Elfen Lied it follows Nana's unorthodox methods of keeping herself under the radar whilst trying to make a living for her adoptive family- in this canon she is 10 years old, thus as a Silpelit she has the appearance of a 20-year-old woman.

CHAPTER ONE
"What the hell?… Blu! Blu, wake up!"
"Good god… what's up with her arms and legs?"
"Is she still breathing?"
"Yeah… she's fallen asleep."
"This is bad. Six million people are listening and the track's on its last minute. Get me water, quick!"
The studio director took a styrofoam cup and poured water from the tap whilst Horace slapped Nana lightly in the face, getting little more than dream-laden mutters for the effort. Taking the cup he poured it on her nose and she woke with a start-
"PAPA!!... aww, nuts."

Eyes darting across the studio ceiling she wondered where she was for a few moments, and a huge black man's face came into her line of sight- "You 'kay, Blu?"
"… oh jeez, Horace. I'm in deep shit, aren't I?"
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
"30 seconds and you're live!"
"Damn it… Put me on the chair!"

Horace carefully hauled Nana up onto the chair, pushing it as close to the console as possible. Not considering her vectors for a few moments he straightened out her tangled headset and placed it on her head. The manager observed her cussing under her breath- right at her moment of triumph during a live linkup to a prime-time radio station in England, she'd fallen fast asleep during a demo mix she'd been given by fans of her show, falling from the edge of her seat and banging her head against the console buttons, landing underneath her limbs. What was more was that the live feed from the music deck had been muted for a few seconds before the director had rushed in to check on Nana, correcting the mistake while tending to her.

"Fifteen seconds!"

The next sight was no less frightening to him- her limbs appeared to pick themselves off the floor and re-assemble themselves into position. Wiggling her fingers and toes, Nana slapped the taste out of her own mouth and took a sip from the cup that was used to revive her, and another from a fresh can of energy-drink she kept just above the microphone. Looking at the computer monitor to the side of her she caught a few sparse lines of text she'd typed into a copy of Notepad to remind herself- the name of her co-broadcaster on the other side of the world, her set-list for the show and the running time- two hours out of her regular four.

"Igirisu, Engrissu, Engrishu, English… How now brown cow, she sells sea shells on the sea shore… I got it, let's go."

She put her game-face on as a battered, bruised Nana Kurama stepped aside and a battered, bruised Blu Sevens re-entered, breathing in the atmosphere of the studio. Tightening her throat and singing a simple tune she vocally and mentally prepared herself for the link to come back on- the deer in the headlights putting on a Running-Back's helmet.

"Five… Four… Three… Two… One…"

Thankfully, her opposite number put the brakes on…
"And that was SMASH withthe psychedelic Etude in Corduroy, 6:45 of hypnotic guitar excellence!"
"'Hypnotic' was certainly an apt term to use, Bernard. Needless to say the creativity was in full flow during the apparent four-week recording of just that one track, and I have it on good authority that they're being headhunted in order to produce a studio cut fairly soon, hopefully tweaked a little bit so that the listening public can actually make it to the second track without exiting lights!"
"Speaking of influences, Blu, to many of listeners this side of the world it may seem too derivative of the 1970s, and – pardon me for sounding ignorant – we're not fully aware of how fast this kind of music travels in the Far East…"
"That ain't really the point, over here many of us who are out of love for the J-Pop scene are happier to set our own pace of musical development, say nothing about SMASH's methods, haha, but isn't one of the greatest maxims of life 'To copy from one source is plagiarism, to copy from many is research'? And I can name at least six such bands here that will still be operating from their mother's basements when they're 35, and money will have nothing to do with it!"
"So, what's next from the land of the Rising Sun?"
"Something a little heavier, Bernard - Knot of Gordium with… Splitting Headache!"

Horace and the studio director could do little but look on as the girl who fell asleep right in front of them frenetically got into the groove of her next track, transfixed at her gyrating and waving her limbs in double-time, her mini-skirt and sky-blue tee drenched all the way through with sweat and water. The director smiled - for a woman that just slated a band live on air for substance abuse that cap didn't look too poor of a fit on her…

"What a pro." was all Horace could say.
"A near miss." the director reciprocated. "But we can't take the risk, she'll have to knock off early. What I want to know is what's up with her limbs… they look like prosthetics."
"You didn't know after all this time, chief? Those spook stories that wacko Institute is spouting about the Diclonius having invisible arms that cut people into pieces are true."
His floor boss mulled it over for a second- "Riiiight… so she's using those false arms and legs as gloves…"
"Pretty much, boss."
"Did she say how she lost her real ones in the first place?"
"Nope, and you can ask her at your own risk. I say this as a friend but they still look far too small on her, though."
"Oompa loompa, Doompa-de-doo…"
"Come on, hehehe, that was uncalled for!"

Leaving Horace contorted with laugher the studio director could see Nana take her headphones off for a breather and he entered the studio room. She caught his look of concern, smiling weakly. Profuse apologies were offered and accepted, and she swigged from her drink whilst the director picked up a handset on her console and spoke to the DJ from England, explaining she'd be cutting the link earlier than expected.
"Your cab will be here in 30. Thank me tomorrow."
"This can't go on, Hiro-chan… It's been like this for a year and a half now, and I'm running on empty."
"I'll let the MD know and see if I can get you a civilised timeslot. The drug gags will be out of the window, though."
"I'll manage."

Nana finished her shortened set, apologising to England for interrupting their early-evening blast of Japanese counter-culture, and looked at the clock- 6:45AM. Finishing her drink she shook her head in relief- the end of this insane charade was in sight, and if it her career was downhill from there she was ready to accept it. Horace entered the room and stooped over to give her an honest hug, and she kissed him on the cheek and departed the studio. Wiping her face on her sodden t-shirt she reached for her coat from a nearby stand, put it on and rifled through her pockets, finding a carton of Lucky Strike with two cigarettes remaining, one of them half-stubbed. She stared at the carton for a few moments- the packet was taunting her as if it was a fairground mirror providing a warped picture of what she was turning into.

"You won't be needing these bastards anymore, Nana. Your fuse is burning fast enough" she said, and threw the cigarettes into a trash can. More urgently she heard a staccato beeping in her left-breast coat pocket.
Fishing her cell phone from inside she looked at the legend- "You have one new text message." Pressing the enter button on her phone Nana saw Mayu's name on the message and opened it, grimacing on the result-

'Yuka knows. Hell on Earth to come.'

"Hope you get out of there soon, Papa, I won't be there to keep you up when you should be sleeping anymore" she said to herself then paid a quick visit to the Ladies' Room. Leaving her companions behind with hugs and kisses she went to wait outside the studio for the taxi, half-praying there'd be rain to keep her awake just a little longer, to wash her embarrassing secret away. Instead she got a brilliant dawn rising from above, and she sighed upon gazing at the sun, a single teardrop coming out.
Her humble chariot arrived in fairly swift order and she barely muttered "Kaede Inn, please" before collapsing on the back seat, trying to lie down on the seat to make sure that if the grip on her false limbs failed they wouldn't fall far enough to be conspicuous to the driver. She stared out of the window, following the well-rehearsed short route her normal cab would have been taking 75 minutes later, the rising sun causing her addled brain to make up a haunting chorus to cloud her ears from the inside, playing it as if this humble cab was her personal ferry across the Styx to the Underworld.

"Goin' home early, miss?" the cab-driver asked. "You're usually buzzing in here." Noticing his smile befitted that of Charon she merely nodded and said "I'm a bit poorly right now", returning her attention to her mental chorus and the rising sun leaving its gorgeous light on the shops and buildings in downtown Kamakura, knowing that she would not partake in enjoying it. She was heading to a much darker place.
As if to cue with the last singer's voice fading out the cab pulled up at the foot of the steps leading to the Inn. Staying her tiredness for a while longer she paid her fare then departed the vehicle.
She made the short journey up the stairs and through the front gate to be confronted by Yuka. Nana could see the fire building up in her lungs.

"For how long has this been going on, Nana?" her voice squealed as an alternative to biting Nana's head off there and then.
"Eighteen months, two weeks, four days. I'll get a better…"
"Not another word, Nana. Bed. Now."

Nana trudged inside, removing her shoes and coat leaving Yuka lost in a foul-mouthed tirade behind,. She passed Kohta who was waiting at the foot of the stairs, not bothering to look at him in shame, and made her way upstairs to see Mayu outside their bedroom. Her step-sister raised her right hand and fashioned it into a sympathetic bull-horns stance. Nana returned it alongside a tired smile and the word "Thanks".
Mayu watched Nana stagger into their room and take up her usual futon closest to the windows, stand still facing the dawn that was seeping through and literally collapse undone on top of her limbs for the second time in an hour. Mayu smiled, then turned to a closet inside the room. Opening the door she found her radio/cassette deck and pressed STOP on the cassette recorder. Removing the tape from the deck she put it back in its sleeve, joined it with another tape and placed a rubber band around it. Adding the pair to an enormous pile next to the deck she shut the door and returned to bed.

"That could be the last ever tape." Mayu spoke, trying to get herself comfortable facing Nana.
"How many do you have?" Nana grunted.
"812 two-hour tapes, two per show"
"Shut up, there's not enough room in that closet."
"Alright, I've got forty-six tapes. Aside the dailies I always keep the monthly specials."
"… might start trawling through them after college tomorrow while I look for another job."
"You're sure they canned you?"
"I dunno, they didn't say. What time are we getting up?"
"About an hour, the first lecture's at 10."
"Hell's teeth…"

Sleep met them both for a short while.