A/N: A fic where Vocaloids = sort of Les Mis characters (but not point on). Where Cosette (Luka) and Èponine (MEIKO) are BFFs. Loosely based on Les Mis… Written while listening to Enjonine and Les Amis playlists at 8tracks. So… yeah. Mentions of KaiLuka and MAJOR MAJOR MEIKO/ARSLOID (THIS SHIP LIKE, HAPPENED OUT OF NOWHERE). Not my ships but oh well. This isn't the end story… more like a draft. Everything is subject to change. But because I'm rebooting my laptop, I have to put it somewhere. Besides, at least here someone could comment on the story and tell me what's wrong and whatnot.
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It plagued her. They plagued her. The revolution, the Friends of de l'ABC.
Every night, it's their barricade she'd see: her brother running around, picking up empty shells while she dreads on seeing what might happen to him; Fukase getting the bottles and passing the alcohol around; Yuu, complaining that he swore to go through fire not water when it started raining; Kyo, talking loudly about this and that; Wil smiling even when a part of the barricade nearly fell over him ; Hio who was nice to her; Yuuma, the odd romantic who was very sweet and would tell stories; Gakupo who would always be there to watch over her younger brother and give her a smile (although sometimes the smile would be a teasing one, one she would never fall for); and him. He would be at her dreams, on top of the barricade, positioning the flag on it. He looked almost like a prince there, the bourgeois boy, even with dirt on his clothes and cuts on his face and body: Akira, the charming young man, who could be intimidating. Who was intimidating.
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"Meiko, here." Luka told her, as the latter put a plate of food in front of the brunette.
The other woman blinked, and it has been so long since she's eaten like this. She ate, then stared scrutinizing at her once-sort-of-enemy she was now reconsidering to be a friend. It wasn't this girl's fault her life turned out to be this way, anyway. "Do you think… what they did… that they died for something… something that isn't really there…" She chokes in her words, remembers her brother singing, remembers the others singing, remembers the shout of the soldiers—
"I think they're brave."
Meiko snorted. "They're foolish. The lot of them. Foolish, especially him. They're just a bunch of idiots, thinking they can change stuff when they do something. They can't."
Luka nodded. "Maybe. But think about it. They were just boys, Meiko. And they had the courage to tell the people about what they thought, had the courage to stand up against the government. I say they're brave."
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When she attended their wedding, Meiko was surprised to find nothing. No pain. Just… nothing. She was happy for Luka, of course. But looking at Kaito and her as they kissed in front… She used to have this pain, she used to get hurt. Had she finally moved on? Because of what happened, had that opened her eyes? Yes, she decided. Perhaps that's it: she'd seen him, falling in love with something that can't ever love him back. And she realized, how pathetic it was, how pathetic he was. She realized how pathetic she was.
Luka throws the bouquet. Meiko catches it.
Kaito laughs. "Who's the unlucky guy?"
She smiled. And it was queer, because before, when she smiled in front of Kaito and Luka and they were together, it would be that forced one. But it wasn't. This one wasn't.
She wonders then, what changed.
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Few remember of this revolution, for it was a short lived one. The firefights were fast, but lots have died. Everyone has. Except for her and Kaito. Kaito, for he was saved by Luka's father and her, because… because she ran. Yes, she managed to save Kaito's life. She got hit by a bullet. But the bullet stopped the bleeding, that she was able to get out and off into the streets. Luka, who was looking for her father, found her then. And she did what Meiko hadn't expected her to do: she helped her.
The doctor was called for. And now she's alive and empty and confused. She's at lost on what to do.
Her parents and her sister were nowhere to be found. When she went to Piko's 'apartment' (the elephant, that is), she found twins—two little girls. They were scared of her, at first. But when told that she was the sister of Piko and gave them food, they told her what happened to them. They told her their name ("She's Anon and I'm Kanon"). When asked what happened to her brother, she didn't know what to answer. She just started crying again.
Her little brother. Fun and serious, both at the same time. Even more mature than her. Usually even scolds her.
Dead.
Because of his barricade, because of him.
She takes the twins, brings them home and decides that it's on her to take care of them now. That she has to. For her brother.
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She glared at him defiantly. "You really think that? Just because you're talking, people will support you? Just like that?"
He opened his mouth, to say something. But she beat him to it.
"People are selfish, Mister Akira," she spat venomously. "There is nothing you can do about that. The amount of power and money that you have, always, always manages to change things in your life. And how should I know? Because I'm one of the poor that you oh-so-try really hard to protect!
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The boy was six when they met. And they became fast friends, even though they just met that day.
"You like books," he commented awkwardly, sheepishly. Being homeschooled had given him not much about how to talk to fellow younger children.
She nodded easily, and with a smile, turned to him. She was wearing a cap atop her brown hair. A warm, fuzzy coat, pants, skirt, boots. She looked warm. "Mmm. Fairytales are my favorites too."
He blinked. Fairytales are impractical. At least he sees them that way. "How come?"
"Because who knows? I might just end up like the girls at the books. I might just find a boy who'd treat me like their princess. Or better yet, like their queen!" she exclaimed gleefully laughing. When she sobered she asked him what his name was.
He smiled. "Akira."
"Meiko. But everyone calls me Mei. So call me that too, okay? Akira?"
"Sure."
"Mei!" a younger girl, with notable bright green hair went to them. "Let's go home! I got what I wanted!"
The brunette looked inside the bag. "Carrot cake? Again?"
She left soon after. He realized he liked her, and wanted her as a friend.
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She knew it was him, but he was but a memory, a ghost from her childhood. And what good does remembering her childhood does? It only made her yearn for the past, and despise the present. And she should, but despising the present does nothing but hurt you. She couldn't do that when she's striving to live. So she ignored him. When she saw him at the crowd, she turned the other way. Simple.
She needn't have worry, though. He didn't notice her, didn't know she was there. To him, she was a ghost, a shadow of the present. He might have glimpsed her for a few times, but simply dismissed it as his mind and his eyes playing funny, peculiar tricks on him.
In a small city as this, they managed to not see each other. Until the day she fell in love with a blue haired boy with the kindest smile she'd ever received. She followed the boy around, like a shadow, and that's how he saw her. As the ghost of another boy.
The sun was hot, rays beating on them. But still he stood on the platform, talking to the people on the unjust tyranny of the monarchy. The blue-haired boy was with him, and he follows with comments of his own.
She never turned to him, not once. Although most eyes were trained on him, her attention was all on the boy beside him.
At the shouts of the National Guard, of dispersing the people, he saw her run away, and followed her.
He grasped her wrist, once when he managed to catch up to her, "You…"
"Let me—" She gasped, when his grip tightened when she tried pulling away.
"You—"
But whatever he was going to say was cut short, when the same green haired girl all those years ago (older, now, but still the same) called her.
"Mei! Let's go! Father's called for us!"
And she slipped off, gone before he could even blink. Just like a ghost. Like water. She was the girl who always manages to slip through his fingers.
From then on, every time it rains, she's the first one that comes to mind.
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Doing grocery was the thing she loved most in staying with Kaito and Luka. And Luka was not averse to it at all. The couple knew how good she is at bargaining, a trick she learned from her parents.
She was at the market, with Anon and Kanon who were both helping her bring the groceries. She was to go to the countryside, for the National Guards are still out for the hunt of those who joined the riot. It was Kaito's idea. After all, no one was taking care of his Grandad's house there.
As she walked, a hand suddenly gripped her wrist. She gasped.
"What do you think you're doing?!" She almost kicked the person, or slapped him at best, if he hadn't spoken.
"You… you're alive… But I saw you die," the person spluttered.
The man had hidden his face under the hood, but she recognized the voice. Although this time, it was hoarse.
"Miss Mei, is everything okay?" Kanon asked with a tug on her skirt. Both the girls were crowding close to her, for the man looked mysteriously scary in front of them.
Meiko plastered on a smile. "Everything's fine. No need to worry." She turned to Akira. "I could say the same to you, mister. Now goodbye."
And that was that. She hoped, at least. But then the girls told the incident to Luka, and she had to tell Luka and Luka had to tell Kaito. And Kaito feels like he should help Akira.
Now she was at a carriage on the way to the countryside, with two little girls and the boy she hated (because he was the cause of the deaths of people she could have called friends, because he was responsible for her brother's death, because he made her realize how stupid she'd been). Not a word were spoken between them, not counting the girls' constant queries. Thank God for that. Meiko feared that she would just lash out on him if he even spoke with her.
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The boy and girl would always find each other at the city square. They would look at the shops and she would tell him of the toys she got, of the things she wanted.
"I hate her, you know," Mei told her one day. "Mother dressed her in rags and gave her nothing but whippings. But she can still stand, she can still smile and sing. I won't be able to do that. If I were her I'd run away first chance I've got."
"But where would you go?"
"I don't know." She blinked, looking up thoughtfully before turning at him with a smile. "But you'd go with me, right? If I told you I was running away, you'd run with me, right?"
His mouth felt dry. What was there to say? He would go, but the impracticality of the suggestion, that they should elope—
She giggled. "Of course you wouldn't, you're Mr. Perfect." Then she gave him a peck on the cheek. "I'm glad I met you, monsieur."
At age twelve, their meetings stopped. He tried to find her, but he found her family gone at the place she told her they stayed. It was the recession, they said.
So he left her memory, and directed his passions to something else entirely.