Author's Notes: Vocaloid, not owned by me, first off.
Secondly, this may be confusing, and I apologize, but it was jumbled more of to show how twisted and sad KAITO became – in other words, written in more of a "thought format".
And…that's about it. Enjoy the mind-numbing angst.
Musings of An Uninstalled KAITO
Rated T for language.
Song used is "My Master" by KAITO.
You stepped all over me every single day, like I was your personal doormat.
I was your personal pack mule whenever we went out.
I was your personal coat rack - shoe mat - whenever we stepped inside.
I was your servant, your foot rest, your mode of transportation, and, most of all, your dog.
It wouldn't have bothered me so much, really, if it had only been that. My default programming left me with a cheerful, sunny disposition with no common sense – thus, I could pretty much serve you with a smile, no matter what you demanded. It seemed that from your moment of conception, I was to be yours, and you would want it no other way.
- I still remember when you first opened those eyes, how fucking gorgeous they'd been, like crystal blue oceans when you fly over them in an airplane, how bright yellow your hair had been, and when you sat up, the first thing you said was -
If only it had been just Master and Dog, perhaps, I would not be sitting in an overly-packed warehouse, crowded with rats that will eventually eat my clothing, and boxes coated with snow-like dust, that will soon coat me as well. I will soon waste away, degrade, and it will be a slow, painful death – uninstall, I cannot die – for my battery life is still going strong…perhaps the rat will eat away this artificial skin before I ultimately shut down. I've always wanted to know if the same things that make me me are what made you – for I was there, from the first rough, yellow-colored-pencil sketches of you, to the dark, angry, metal framework, to the loving, time-consuming fine-tuning, to the beautiful end result.
- You rewards me with a small quirk of those lips, so small, that anyone else would have missed it…and this time, I smile back. I know that you're really telling me that I did something right…you never really did have a way with words, except in your songs. -
If only I had not loved.
Truly, I don't know how it happened. Robots are not to love; we may breathe like humans, and feel and see and touch and emulate emotions, but we do just that – emulate. We are not whole; we cannot feel as strongly as humans do…yet, I felt for you, and that is what keeps me alive right now.
In this world, for one person alone…
My 'default programming' (sunny disposition, the one you claimed you loved) shut down two weeks ago.
For your sake alone will these lips part…
My scarf (the one you stole when the winter – our only winter together - was so dead and cold) tore for the first time ever two weeks ago.
So please, these hands of yours…
My legs (the ones you always said were too long to be natural, the ones you said you'd killed for) were detached, painfully, forcefully, two weeks ago.
Don't stop them.
I sing this song to myself, over and over, hoping that maybe, maybe, one of the feet stomping quickly by the wall I'm leaning against is you. Maybe you will hear the first ever song I made for you; maybe you'll hear it, and take me back.
My Master.
Maybe you'll recognize that Master, not you, but all of ours, decided to uninstall me in the worst possible way. Maybe you'll realize that it actually wasn't his fault, but mine, all mine. I turned myself in to him. Being your lover was more than I could've ever hoped for, and I'd loved it, too much, too much.
As I'm looking down, in my line of sight, appears your shadow…
I shiver, though it's not out of cold; I shudder, my limbs freeze, and I fall over, knocking over a pile of boxes which send dust and papers flying everywhere, like the nervous sparrows on our sunny windowsill when we'd be too loud.
There was no hesitation before I took your hand.
Papers and dust land on me, land in my eyes. I want to scream, scream your name like I used to, back when I used to "feel" angry or annoyed, and I'd have to run up to my room and scream your name as loud as I could, instead of yelling at you directly, just to spare your feelings.
To be placed in a sunlit place all the time, it's not that that's what I'm hoping for…
I want to sing your name softly, sweetly, sweeter than the ice cream I used to love, that you used to love to eat and use as an excuse for me to kiss you. I never wanted, or needed, that excuse. I would've kissed you just for being you.
However…
I'm digressing. I can't stop thinking about you, my Len, my precious little blonde Len, whom I would love (and hate) to see right now. Would you blame me for telling Master that I loved you in the way that was forbidden? Would you scold me, or would you stand there silently? Or maybe…
If you can think of me every once in a while…
Maybe, I'd lay my head on your lap, and you'd softly whisper sweet nothings to me, and run your small hands through my blue hair like you were petting a cat. Nothing meant more. Nothing was better.
Please call for me anytime…and I will sing for you.
I curl up tighter on this cold cement, not bothering to wipe the dust from my eyes. I know that it's not good, but I can't bring myself to care. My bloody stumps that were once legs hurt again, as they do, every time I think about you – which is endless, so endless, please, leave me alone.
In this world, for one person alone…
Leave me the fuck alone, get out of my head. My data bank is already full of you, thoughts of you, dreams of you, the feel of your lips on my cheek and the happiness you once brought me. Leave me alone. Stop reminding me of what I don't have.
For your sake alone…
Stop. Just. Fucking. Stop. LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE. Wait…this isn't right. Something…something isn't right…Len, Len, Len, where the fuck are you? Perhaps…perhaps I vastly overestimated my battery supply. My sensor must be defunct…it told me I had a very long way to go…but I can feel it draining away. That last burst of emotion, the last thing I felt…drained me…I feel…
Will these lips part.
I…
i…
len…
"So please, these hands of yours…" whispers, from me.
can't…must sing. for len.
"Don't stop them…" nothing left.
nothing…
"My Master…" hands. face.
blue…can't…process.
…yellow…
len.
…good bye, len.
"KAITO unit, officially uninstalled."