Howdy, everyone! ^_^
This is the first chapter of a longer fic tracing the relationship between Kaito and his Master. So, of course, the pairing would be Master x Kaito. What do you think?
Glossary of Japanese terms:
Nii-san = older brother.
Arigato = thank you.
Owari = the end.
Mou = an expression of annoyance.
Akai = red.
Master, Master
VOCALOID: KAITO
LOG ENTRY: 731
CREATED: 21.09.10
His name is chiaki.
My Master's name.
chiaki. This is how he always spells it, all romaji, all lower case; if someone writes "Chiaki," with a capital C, he will correct them. My Master rarely uses capital letters.
None of the others knows this. Only I. As far as I'm aware, he only uses his real name on the university's website—WebU, as they call it. His account is password-protected.
I'm not the only Vocaloid who can surf the Internet, of course, but I think I'm the only one who knows how to coax the web into decoding its secrets for me. I learned. For Master's sake.
And for me as well, I guess, for my own peace of mind. I never could get used to it, how he would simply type his way past that encrypted log-in page and drop out of my sight. What he was doing beyond it, I couldn't tell. It bothered me so much, not knowing. I don't know why—logically, it shouldn't. But it did.
For the past week, that website has been such a nightmare to me. But, today, I cracked it open.
Patience and hard work and patience until it finally came undone. Master is a third-year Literature major. He is taking "Writing of the Short Story," "Major Authors of the Twentieth Century," "The Portrayal of Race in Children's Literature," and "Writing for Children: the Novel." He has a GPA of 3.6 / 4. I'm very proud of him.
Decoding WebU took me some two hours. Calling up and surveying Master's profile, another two. I didn't intend on lingering there for so long. I was surprised to find I'd lost track of time—but the precious information I've copied into my data bank is the reward of all my efforts—and a lovely reward it is! Now I can follow Master into WebU whenever he enters it. I want to keep my records of his online activity up to date. I want to know what he does when he's not with us.
My absence didn't go unnoticed, though:
"Kaito," Miku said, pouting, when I logged off WebU and returned to the non-space in my Master's hard drive we Vocaloids inhabit. "What have you been doing all day? You know I can't rehearse without you. Honestly, you!"
I smiled apologetically. I truly had forgotten about today's rehearsal. "I'm so sorry, Miku. We can practice now, if you'd like."
She grew hopeful. "Really?" But she must've decided she was still angry with me. "Well, I don't know. Maybe I'm not ready, you know. I warmed up so long ago. I'd have to do it again."
"Do it again for me, please," I said.
And she forgave me. "Okay. Give me a sec—wait here. Don't go away again!"
"All right, all right," I said, smiling still as she scampered off to her folder.
Thank you, Miku, I was thinking. Thank you for not asking where I was while I was gone. I would've had to lie to you. I hate lying to you.
The others don't know Master's real name. They don't know he's a student at RVU; they don't know that it's only a twenty-three-minute walk away from our address (approx.), or that he takes all his courses between 10 am and 3:30 pm.
No, they don't know—and they never will know. Master's data belongs to me. Only I need it; only I earned it. Only I.
/ / / / /
My Master has a blog that only his friends can read, his friends and I. That one was easier to access; Master uses the same password for all his online accounts. It's a bad habit of his, but I can never stay mad at him for being so careless. I just love some of the things he writes:
wednesday, may 5, 2010.
6:47 pm
hey all. i know, i should be working on term paper since it's due in a week (it totally snuck up on me). but! there'd be no cool, super special post for you right now if term papers were actually meant to be taken seriously, so thank my procrastination for this fit of creativity. ;D yet another children's story. yes, yes, 'we know, chiroi, you're completely obsessed with stories for kids' is what you're probably thinking. like you didn't cry watching 'bambi'! i know i did. xD
kay, so enjoy and tell me what you think!
.-.-.-.
the story of the white bird with blue hair
so. once upon a time, there was this bird. this white bird. he wasn't as white as paper, or white as a blank page in a word processor, but he was white enough that you wouldn't say that he was gray. there have been plenty of white birds before, i know, but that didn't bother him at all. he was sure he was special, because he had blue hair. oh did he love his hair. it was just so lovely. and blue.
one day he was flying. this bird liked to sing a lot, so he sang while he was flying, until he met another bird. the other bird was naked.
'oh, no,' white bird said. 'what happened to you? why are you naked?'
naked bird sniffled. 'they plucked me, nii-san. i don't know why, like, i hadn't done anything to them. but they plucked me.'
so plucked bird cried. most people say birds can't cry, but they can, they just act tough all the time unless when they're alone with other birds. he shivered, too, it was so cold. white bird hugged him, splaying his wings over him to protect him for the wind, but he knew they couldn't stay like that forever, so he thought and thought. suddenly the breeze blew one of his long blue locks into his face,
and he knew!
'listen,' he told plucked bird, 'take my hair. it's so much, we can make you a scarf with it. hehe! a hairy scarf, but it'll keep you warm.'
'are you sure, nii-san?' said plucked bird. 'but, your hair! it's so pretty.'
'that's why you should hurry,' said white bird. 'here, pluck it off with your beak before i change my mind and don't want to give it to you anymore.'
so plucked bird pulled out white bird's hairs one by one, carefully so that they wouldn't get blown away in the wind. together, they made plucked bird a scarf and then he wasn't that cold anymore.
'arigatou, nii-san,' said plucked bird, 'really.'
'yeah,' said white bird, trying to ignore the cold air on his bald head. 'don't mention it.'
'i'm sorry i took all your hair.'
'it'll grow back,' he told himself.
white bird still hurt from all the plucking, so he didn't sing on his way back home. later he saw himself in the mirror and he was in a bad mood that day, but his pretty blue hair did grow back. plucked bird's feathers grew back, too, one day, but he kept his scarf on until he gave it to another bird that had also been plucked, and so on and so on. by now that scarf has travelled more than you or i or anybody else in the world.
o w a r i
That was what Master wrote, exactly how he wrote it. It's an adorable story. I wonder if Master can tell it word for word, like I can.
Unfortunately, these thoughts of him have a way of coming to me when I least expect it. Today, I was recalling that story at the worst possible time.
"Kaito!" Miku whined. She startled me.
"Ah?" I said. (It was all I could say.)
"Mou—what're you spacing out for?" She scowled. "You were supposed to sing your verse."
"My verse." I had to scan my short-term memory. "Oh—my verse—I'm sorry! Let's try again."
"No." The background music had stopped—I hadn't noticed.
She crossed her arms. She seemed—a bit annoyed, yes, but also worried. Worried for the most part. "Are you okay?" she said. "It kind of looks like something's bothering you." She brightened a bit, as though she'd found her answer. "Are you hungry? Do you want some ice cream?"
I laughed and shook my head. "No, thank you."
She blinked. Surprised.
"I mean—I do," I said. "Of course! Ice cream would be nice. But first I wanted to tell you I'm fine. There's nothing bothering me. It's just something that you sang—well—reminded me of something else."
"Hm?" She tilted her head to the side.
"Well—" What to say? To appease her and yet protect Master's info. "You sang, little blue canary was little and blue."
I sang the line in the same high pitch of her voice, so she giggled.
"And I just—remember that picture Master posted on devART?" I went on. We all had access to his deviantART profile, so it was safe to mention. "The baby bird. The one you liked so much."
She touched her fingertip to her lips, looking up at the cloud-streaked, blue sky we had generated for today.
"Mhmm." She nodded.
"That's what I was thinking about."
"Really?"
"Yes," I lied, half-lied. "I was thinking, Master really likes birds, doesn't he?"
"Ah—" Miku grinned. "He does! That's so cute."
I laughed, much more sincerely than before. I thought, Yes, it's cute. Master loves winged things. Especially small winged things. He loves to draw me as a bird, too. I can tell when it's me—the Kaito birds are white and they have scarves, and their hair looks just like mine. He must think of me so often! That idea—I couldn't help it—it made me blush.
"Aw, Kaito!" Miku giggled. "You turned all red! We'll have to call you Akaito now."
I cupped my burning face with my hands. How embarrassing, but I was happy. "Miku, I love Master."
"Well, duh," she said. "I love him, too. We all do."
/ / / / /
She loves him, too.
We all do.
That's what she said. Yes, it was true enough; we all love him, I'm sure, as we should. That's normal. It shouldn't bother me. It has never bothered me before. All the same, that statement quickly deleted some of my excessive glee. I even had an urge to reply—what? what for?
I don't know. How silly of me. I chose to chuckle—she'd said it innocently, after all. She didn't mean anything by it.