... and hence I shall stay up at 11:40 and write. Please enjoy, and review! I probably won't update much unless my writer's block is shattered or I get a few reviews ~ thanks! x3
Each story usually has this set of characters: the main character, the person the main character truly hates with all their heart, the main character's best friend who somehow gets caught in the plot, and all those random people related to the main character and also get caught up. I'm sorry to say that this story has all of these people. But what would a story be without them?
My name is Rin Kagamine. I'm 14, nearly 15. I'm probably what you should call an average student in her freshman year at Crypton High. Even in class, I'm surrounded by a mob of people, but it's not really like the world revolves around me. Rather, everyone takes turns being the center of attention in the group. There's just the right mix of guys and girls, so nothing gets too dramatic or violent. It's perfect – I'll never feel lonely. What more can I ask for?
But there's this one girl I just hate so much. Megurine Luka. The ironic part? She used to be my best friend. If you asked me why, I'd give you a prompt answer. Things change over time, for the good and for the bad. We can choose to adapt, but sometimes we just can't stand it, and what do we do? Move on. But there are still those little pangs of heartbreak – not as in love, but as in longing for her to be my best friend again. Over time though, I realized… we can't go back, we'll just keep on going.
That's why I have Miku Hatsune. I love her like a sister, the sister I always asked my parents for, but never got. She's there for me every time I'm sad and crying. Remember, good friends ask you what's wrong and offer you a tissue, but best friends yell at you to suck it up, because they've been through it too and know it's not worth crying over.
Today was just another day of my boring life. I got scolded coming home late. Is talking with your friends really that much of a crime? I gulfed down lunch, then sat unwillingly at the piano. One hour a day was quite a lot. I made excuses to get up to "get water" at least five times. Homework was always done with headphones on, blasting music at the maximum level, and yet I still finished on time. Ah, and finally the warm bliss of the shower after dinner.
I was padding softly down the hallway, hair soggy and wet, dressed in a plain top and orange flannel pants with cats chasing oranges on them. At this point, I'll ask you not to question the design. The last remnants of steam curled off my skin, disappearing into air. Nobody asked me why I wasn't in bed yet at eleven, so I took a detour into the kitchen. Milk would be nice after a shower. But no, I went straight for the orange juice. Milk can wait.
Bedtime. I dragged the messy cream-colored sheets back onto the bed. Who cared about making beds, only to mess them up again? Fluffing and adjusting my pillow, I didn't notice anything wrong. "Lights out." I called to anyone who'd care to listen.
Everything was far from ordinary after that. I laid back my head on the pillow… "What the hell?" There was definitely something there – something solid. Nope, that wasn't the end to it. I carefully lifted up the pillow, and looked on with cautious eyes. Oh great. A gun. A gun with a nice red ribbon tied on it. And a note next to it. "Use it for good." Oh boy.