Disclaimer: The Vocaloids featured within this story obviously do not belong to me. They belong to their rightful companies which includes Zero-G. (just in case a disclaimer needed to be placed)

Comment: This was a story I've had in the back of my head for quite some time. After realizing that there was a serious lack of Engloid fan-fiction, I thought I should upload this "gem" on here. I hope others will begin to do more stories focused upon them (and the Spanish Vocaloids), to be honest.

Also, quick warning: This story might be a little on the "silly" side - plot-wise - thanks to my rusty writing. Thank you for reading!

Her fingers brushed the cup's handle whilst her eyes glanced over at the person across from her at the table. A small smile graced her at how he finally noticed her stare, blushing a little.

"What…? Is there something on my face?"
"No no, there's nothing on you. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Tonio."

Tonio huffed quietly and sat back against his seat. Prima had suggested that the two of them took a break away from the life of being a Vocaloid or — what Tonio thought — being a Vocaloid which no one gave the time or day for in the damn first place because they sung genres that wasn't popular at all.

…or so Tonio thought until that "The End" performance with Miku, but he was told to hold his tongue about what he thought about that.

Anyway, back on track, Prima suggested the two of them didn't see much of each other at home also, so this was perfect for them to being at each others side like the good ol' days. How Prima was able to accomplish this trip without anyone else coming along was beyond him. So many of the Vocaloids could be incredibly nosy, after all…

"Tonio," Prima spoke up, "did you wish for me to order a few more drinks for us?"

The younger of the two shook his head. "No thank you."

So, instead of being coped within the two-story house, he and Prima were in the "tourist attraction" part of Italy. Prima, when she was telling him the details of their trip on the plane ride here, was rather specific on what she thought about doing once they deported the airport via public transportation. Was this actually Prima wanting a vacation for personal reasons? No, possibly not, considering she brought him along.

Then again…the two of them were close for years. She wanted him to come with her. Prima was more than happy to bring him into anything deemed "personal" by moral standards. Who knows the true reason why the woman across from him wanted to come here? Well, certainly not him…probably.

As if she had read his scattered thoughts, Prima took a sip of her coffee, then told him calmly with a smile still plastered, "I thought about looking for our 'roots', music-wise. It's all in good fun, dear."

"It sounds anything but 'fun', dear."
"To you, perhaps; but, not to me."
"How so?"

Prima held in a laugh as her brows scrunched for a second, but then they retained back to their usual position. Might as well admit to the truth. This was Tonio, after all. He wasn't going to judge her. "Well, as silly as this may sound to you and everyone else…" she replied truthfully, "I confess that I wanted to come here based off a dream I had last week…" then she added in before taking another sip of coffee, "concerning about our past."

"Pardon?" Tonio raised a brow.

"Our past together, prior to becoming Vocaloids."
"And you're listening to what a dream showed you by coming here? Is that it?"

"Yes."

Prima was intelligent, why on earth would she fall so easily for whatever a dream presented to her? Tonio was starting to get confused by this.

"I know I know…" Prima immediately defended herself and remaining rather calm in her body language, "that's why I said it was silly, but I swear that this wasn't an ordinary dream by all means."

"Could you explain to me what you mean by 'our past' then?" Tonio questioned.

"Certainly." She nodded. "Do you know how, for example, Miku has a past story of her own? She was sent from a timeline where music was dying and sent back to prevent it from happening, yes?"

Another nod.

Once she saw the nod, Prima continued, "I don't know why, but the dream was descriptive with everything…as if I was watching a movie. We were here, in Italy, many years ago. This was probably where we lived until…" her voice trailed off for a moment, trying to think of what to say at the end of her sentence, "well…that is to say, I never found out what happened to us at the very end."

Tonio frowned a little as he raised an eyebrow at her. A hint of doubt was written on his face, Prima could easily tell.

"Tonio, I swear that I'm not making things up. What can I do to wipe away that doubt?"

"…proof, perhaps," was the younger opera singer's reply. "Tell me everything that happened, or show me at least."

The smile on Prima widened. "Of course. I'll do both of those, though we're going to have to leave and head to where we need to be."

"Really?"

"Yes, in hopes of a memory trigger to occur. Miku claims she gets those sometimes and instantly remembers more and more information concerning her own past, so I believe the same will happen if I visit the site."

That's an interesting point.

"Alright," he gave in to her.

After the duo finished their morning drink, Prima stood from her seat and held out a hand to her partner, offering it to him as she smiled. Tonio, without hesitation, took hold and stood; although he couldn't help but still doubt Prima going along with a dream's tale.

"Tonio, I hope you don't mind us taking a mean of transportation to get to where we need to be."
"Why would I mind?"

"Just making sure," Prima replied.

One train ride later, the two of them wound up in front of a beauty of an opera house. There didn't seem to be that many people visiting the lovely building, possibly due to it being so early in the morning still.

But, who cares about that? Why not care more for the opera house in front of them?

There was a flight of stone steps which led to the double-door entrance. The door's handles where shiny and gold whilst the door themselves were wooden or possibly oak. The house stood three stories tall and took almost two blocks of space for itself. Now while it didn't seem it was that old, the opera house appeared to be at least twenty or so years old due to the hints of how worn the edges of the place seemed.

"Tell me, Tonio," asked Prima, "does this place seem familiar to you somehow?"

The dark-haired man shook his head. "No, not really." He glanced over at her as he adjusted his jacket. "Do you?"

"After the dream I had…this place is very familiar to me."
"Prima, I'm still questioning about that dream of yours—"

"Teatro Tammaro is its name," she swiftly interrupted Tonio, her lovely smile never leaving her face as she said that. "Please listen, when I saw the picture of it at home, I felt as though I knew this place before…and I'm getting an overwhelming array of emotions right now, just because we're standing in front of it."

She went on.

"Perhaps you'll be triggered by something once we enter?"
"Perhaps…"

"I promise that you will," she assured him, and then she grasped his hand gently once again. "Besides, you agreed to my request to visit here. We might as well take a look inside, regardless if what I had was a simple dream about this or not."

"Where on earth is everyone?"
"Hm…they must be on a group tour right now."

"Are we going to take a tour?" Tonio questioned with a brow raised.

After glancing around from their stance in the middle of the lobby, Prima answered, "Our own, yes. I did think about booking us on one of the group tours; however, I thought you wouldn't be that into being in a large group like that."

Tonio's eyes looked from place to place within the quiet lobby. There were newspaper clippings, paintings, and framed photographs decorating the deep red walls perfectly. To the far left, there was a flight of steps which took one to the next floor and onwards, beside those stairs were the toilet rooms. The temperature of the room was comfortably warm. He turned to where Prima stood, but paused from what he was about to say due to Prima slowly approaching a wall which displayed a few photographs and old newspaper articles.

Prima, as soon as she was close enough to view the pictures, silently gazed from image to image. Her heart's beats remained steady, but it soon sped up upon the sight of a particular framed photograph. "Tonio," she called for him, her green eyes remaining on the item in front of her.

Tonio soon joined her, then he looked at what the woman was staring at and the sight dawned onto him.

Within the photograph, there stood a group of fifteen teenagers and a woman in her mid-twenties or early thirties standing in the middle. She beamed a bright smile without being distracted by the loose strains of dark hair covering sections of her right eye. Her hair, speaking of, was on the wavy side with a few parts sticking upwards into curls.

"She certainly looks like you," Tonio commented once he found his voice. He could feel Prima's eyes on him.

"Dear, read what's underneath the picture."

Under the photo, just as Prima said there was one, was a golden plaque which read:

Teatro Tammaro - Operatic Class of 2000
Our dear leading lady — Primrose Bianchi — with her students mid-semester.

Taking another glance at the woman, Primrose, in the photograph, Tonio felt his jaw harden and his mouth straighten into a line. Her physical attributes matched Prima, minus the wavy, shoulder-length hair. The smile was similar as well. This woman…she couldn't honestly be Prima, could she?

"Tonio, I'm getting that feeling which Miku had when she found out about herself," she mumbled to him. "If you don't believe me…could you examine the photograph closely?"

Tonio did just that. His squinted his brown eyes at the photo and stared at Primrose's features harder. The face, the eyes, her body, that charming smile…they were hers?

No, they didn't have a past life at all. They were made by a company and were activated upon their software's release. They didn't have a previous life like Miku, Kiyoteru, Yuki, or Miki had. They didn't!

He let his eyes wander away from Primrose, but things became worse when one of the students captured his attention. To the left of Primrose — who had a hand over his shoulder — was a young man in a tuxedo. By his facial expression of avoiding the camera and his cheeks a deeper shade than his skin colour, he was either embarrassed or shy. One of his gloved hands grasped the hem of the cloak he wore and the other hand was absent-mindlessly at his ruffled dark hair. Minus any facial hair, he looked like—

"I'll be right back," Tonio calmly told Prima, but when he was about to head off into the toilet without another word, Prima grabbed his coat by its arm.

"Tonio, dear, are you alright…?" she worriedly asked. When he didn't say anything, Prima looked back at the photograph. It only took her a second to realise who the boy beside Primrose looked similar to. A hand went to her mouth as she murmured, "Oh, mio…"

What Tonio wasn't aware was how images were flashing through Prima's mind for a split second. What were those memories? Why, the same ones she remembered in her detailed dream!

She decided to ask the young man beside her as a way for him to possibly 'remember', "Doesn't this boy to the left of Primrose look familiar also?"

"…no."
"Tonio, are you sure?"
"I'm certain, Prima."

He was spun around to face Prima whose smile lessened and her brows lowered. She was going to tell him otherwise about who the boy with Primrose was, and he refused to believe that this was him. This couldn't be happening. He starting to feel alright with Primrose being Prima, but—

"Tonio…"

Tonio averted her stare. "May we…look around here?"

Maybe a tour around the place could help trigger a memory if this photo could not! Perfect! Prima nodded, and then said, "We can. Perhaps we can sneak around without the guides knowing we're here?"

"What?"
"I'm kidding, dear."

She looked over to one of the entryways which allowed people into the performance hall and spotted an old metal rack hanging from the wall with pamphlets and other papers for tourists and visitors alike to take with them. Her smile returned.

"Come, Tonio," she spoke to him as she tugged Tonio along to where the papers were, "let's start our trip with some assistance. Maybe you'll realise soon enough."

As they passed through the doors, Prima was quick enough to grab a pamphlet and a paper booklet. She had a feeling she was going to put them to good use.

The downstage, this was where Prima and Tonio found themselves upon entering. Surprisingly, they never ran into any people who were in the tour group, neither did they run into any people running the opera house. Unusual.

Tonio, trying to shove the image of himself — ? — to the back of his thoughts, ran a hand over one of the seats, feeling the soft cushion underneath his fingertips.

Prima, meanwhile, flipped open the opera house's pamphlet and began to read out loud, "Teatro Tammaro was founded in the late eighteen-hundreds as a small performance hall for young adults. Gradually, the founder of the establishment received enough funds to expand and re-create Tammaro as a whole.

Tamarro not only became an opera house for professional singers by the 1920s, but they also had a school on the side as means to raise singers to call their own. Many 'graduated' into the world of opera, one of those students even paid back for how much they had helped her receive attention: Primrose Bianchi, a woman who was once a mere soprano in their school who became a household name in the world of opera within Italy…"

She might have caught Tonio stiffen once she mentioned the woman's name, but she didn't paid much mind to it once he went back to wandering around the floors, looking up at the boxes above and around them.

Prima read on to herself, taking in the rest of the general information of the house. She chose to re-read the item, this time she caught something within parenthesis which she seemed to have missed upon the first run-through.

Primrose Bianchi (1972 - 2001)

Wait, she didn't remember that part of the dream she had.

"It seems…" she murmured, "I might have died at one point."

Tonio turned to look at her. "What?"
"Primrose died thirteen years ago."

"I'm guessing you're either getting confused or…" Prima said, "you're in doubt, still. Doesn't anything feel or look akin so far?"

Tonio quickly shot his eyes to the entrance where those photos were displayed, but then he looked back to Prima. "No, but…" he questioned, "if what you're assuming is true, just by mere coincidence of the photograph and dream, could you tell me exactly what happened while showing me around this place?"

"Gladly," she immediately responded. She still had hope that, perhaps, Tonio would finally accept what was their possible past life. She, herself, didn't know that Primrose had died; so there must have been more to the story than what her vision presented to her in the dead of night.

Taking hold of his hand yet again, Prima led him further up the floor. There sat a door to the left which Prima — that was surprisingly unlocked — opened it, and then the two slipped inside. With a turn to the right, they were now standing in the centre of the stage.

"Once in a while," Prima said, "I saw myself performing in front of hundreds, possibly thousands considering how large the house is. Like the pamphlet said, Primrose was a student, became famous, and became a teacher at the opera house…"

She took in the sight of her spot on the stage, her eyes glanced about the downstage — the audience's sitting area — then up at the boxes. She felt a tingling sensation in her chest which soon was joined by a similar feeling within her stomach. A smile grew across Prima's face.

"Before classes began," continued the female Vocaloid, "I — or Primrose — would warm my vocals out here. That's how my dream started out…" Prima glanced around again, but this time she felt something coming to her mind. "And my students would come in and watched me whenever they arrived early."

A shot of four or five teenagers sitting in the middle of the empty audience floor flashed in Prima's vision, the sight of one of the teens caused her smile to melt and her eyes soften.

"One of them — I've noticed in my dream — showed up early every day to watch me."

"Prima," Tonio spoke up with a scrunched brow, "you've better not say what I'm thinking you're going to say."

"Antonello Bellomi was his name," and Prima made sure she was looking directly at Tonio when she said the name which made the younger of the two groan.

"Prima, please…"
"Let me continue, dear~…"

Ignoring the hand brushing against his cheek for a moment, Tonio frowned in annoyance and gave in, replying, "…alright, fine."

"Thank you. Anyway…" Prima gazed back to the empty seats as she finally began her story, "my dream started with me arriving to the opera house while the sun was still rising, I removed my coat and entered the hall. Once I got on the stage — this one — I began to warm my voice for the day…"

_to be continued_