When I decided to start writing again, more specifically, when I said I was going to start again by writing for Vocaloid, I told myself I wouldn't do anything based on specific songs/PV's outside of mentioning them. I lied, obviously. The previous, however, was said before I watched Synchronicity. Anyway, welcome to the most ambitious piece of writing I've ever worked on outside of class requirements. What I want to do here represents a lot of firsts for me in terms of writing. Hell, this chapter alone does that too. Also, about 3/4 of the way through this I saw that someone else was also doing Synchronicity and it's quite good. So, sorry! I totally wasn't trying to copy your idea or anything! But anyway, I'm not big on long opening comments (end notes, however, are a different story.) So, I'll stop talking here and just say please please PLEASE read the end notes.
EDIT: I may occasionally correct my own typos as I catch them (some of them are just a function of uploading to the site so sorry bout that.)
Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own any of the Vocaloid or any other trade marked characters within as they belong to their respective copyright holders. Synchronicity was made by many people and is a wonderful thing so you should give them all credit for it (and should be looked up on youtube.)
A cave. The darkness of this place is palpable, it lays upon everything like an impenetrable shroud, a barrier discouraging all but those who are either brave of foolhardy to venture forth. A sickening earthy smell assaults my nostrils. The air here is stale, unmoving, and in a way, suffocating. The only sound present is the constant dripping of water echoing throughout. This ancient tunnel was not meant to be traversed by any man, yet here I am, pressing onward, fighting back both the dark and the terror that assaults me as I advance.
I am drawn forward by some unseen force within me. Some will to move on. Something in my mind is telling me that it is imperative that I keep going, keep putting one foot in front of the other. There is nothing more important to me than reaching the end of this dark path. I'm sure that any number of terrible pitfalls await me at each turn, hundreds of stony maws eagerly await a single misstep to devour me. As much as I expect it though, the fall never comes. My footing remains sure over pebble and boulder alike, around a maze of stalagmites and stalactites, their dagger-like outlines the only "decorations" to be found in this miserable place. Somehow I instinctively know a safe route through this never ending labyrinth.
I walk for hours it seems, though without the sky my sense of time is skewed. For all I know it has been days. Each step brings me closer toward whatever goal I seek, yet each step also fills me with a renewed sense of dread. There is something wrong about this place. It is as if the cave itself rejects my presence, it's walls casting their ill-will toward me, attempting to drive me away. Every inch brings with it a renewed fear within me. It is difficult to press on. Yet this burning will within me keeps my feet moving, despite my mind's rejection.
Suddenly, there is a light. The darkness of the cavern is chased off by some far off illumination. The stone is bathed in a teal glow. It's sickly light forming twisted shadows upon the walls. There is no comfort in this unearthly illumination. After several more minutes of walking, I discover its source. A door lined by hundreds of runes, arranged such that they they form the image of the hilt of a sword. Several antiquated stone pillars and archways crumble around a pathway leading to the gate. A fresh wave of terror assaults me. 'Go back! Run! Flee from this awful place!' my mind screams yet my body presses on. My head begins to throb. There is something physically attacking me, some invisible force actively trying to kill me. It hurts. It hurts so much. The pain threatens to tear me to shreds, rending flesh from bone until naught but my skeleton is left heaped upon the cave floor. The ominous glow of the runes pulse with some arcane power. I must go back. I have to go back! Please let me go back!
Suddenly, it stops. The pain subsides as the dread within me gives way to serenity. I chance a look around, not remembering when I had ever closed my eyes. I have made it past the door and find myself in a much larger chamber beyond. Enormous stone pillars rise throughout, obscuring most of the room from view. There is light here. It two seems arcane in origin, however it does not fill me with a repulsion like the runes upon the gate. It reminds me of the moonlight, beautiful and pale. The walls here are crystalline and appear as ice in the false moonbeams, their surfaces sparkling. I stare in awe at my surroundings, completely absorbed by the beauty of it all.
I wander through this crystalline cavern, stunned by my surroundings. I am snapped from my trance as my ears pick up on the strangest of sounds. A girl, her voice that of an angle, sings out, hear rapturous melody filling the chamber. 'Go to her' my mind tells me, and I obey without question.
I find what I am looking for in the center of the room. A single, intense beam of light shines down onto this persons head. As I draw nearer, a certain peculiarity strikes me. A mirror? No, though the person standing before me could easily be mistaken for such at first glance. She is my spitting image applied to a feminine form. Her white dress floats around her. Her feet are bare. Around her neck a simple black amulet carved in the shape of a treble clef. I wonder if it is cold in this area. I cannot seem to feel a thing. Her golden hair shrouds her face. She feels familiar, safe, comfortable. I wonder, have I known this person before?
She pauses as I approach, her wondrous song dieing with an echo throughout the hall. Her shoulders shudder. The faintest of sobs catches my ear.
"Somebody..."
Who are you, mysterious girl? Why do you feel so familiar to me? I'm sure I have not seen you before.
"Anyone..."
If only I knew who you were. There is something in the back of my mind nagging me. It is like I'm forgetting something dreadfully important.
"Help me..."
I call out to her, yet the words die on my lips. There is something... something wrong about all of this this. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end.
"Save me..."
Yes. I will save you! I will make sure to save you! If only I could recall your name! Please just let me remember your name!
"Save me!"
The cave shakes as my view is filled by a giant, yellow eye, its reptilian gaze freezing me in my tracks. What is this terrible being? It's ill will towards me is palpable. I am but a speck before it, as insignificant as the pebbles upon the floor. I am cast back into a deep darkness. As this the room, the girl, and their terrible guardian leave me, the void embraces me. A single, faint voice echos in the blackness.
"Len..."
"Rin!"
In a small inn, situated quite far from anything that could really be called civilization, a boy awoke from a restless sleep with a cry. He shot up throwing the sheets from his body, eyes gazing wildly around searching for some unseen assailant. In his right hand clutching the hilt of a longsword, ready to draw at a moments notice. He sat there in perfect silence, casting threatening glares around the room until finally, upon deciding that he was not in any immediate danger, he came to the realization that he had not taken a single breath and relieved his screaming lungs. Panting, he wiped a cold sweat from his brow and shivered as a chill wind swept through the drafty room he currently inhabited.
To say that this was a boy is, perhaps, incorrect. He was much more a young man than a boy. His upper body was toned, showing physical fitness and general health, though the occasional bruise or scab indicated a rather rough lifestyle. His blond hair fell to his shoulders, bangs ending just above azure eyes. The eyes themselves, though focused and thoughtful, still showed the sparkle of innocence and inexperience which is lost with age. He had not grown to his full height just yet, though it was apparent that this event was not far off.
The young man, having re-gained his composer to a degree, cast a final, weary eye about his room before sighing and falling back against the headboard. Closing his eyes, he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, attempting to remove the uneasiness that had come with his violent awakening. Much to his displeasure, he discovered that his efforts were in vain. The words that marked his awakening still echoed in his mind. With an irritated huff he opened his eyes again and began peering through the dark, finally settling his eyes on this belongings sitting in the corner of the room. It was a small space, no more than a box with a bed and a space to store belongings. In the corner his clothing rested on top of a small satchel which contained everything he owned. Next to his bed a simple wooden scabbard held his longsword, a trusted weapon which had been at his side for the past year. The many pits and scratches along the blade bore testament to this fact.
Resigning himself to the fact that he probably wasn't getting any more sleep that night, the boy moved to sit on the side of his bed and gaze out the small window in his room. The waxing moon shone high in the night sky, casting a pale light on the surroundings. It was early morning. He needed to get moving. He had a long walk ahead of him still and he wanted to reach the next town before nightfall.
He stood and moved to his satchel. Taking his clothes he began dressing for the journey. He wore a white, sleeveless undershirt with matching pants. Over this he donned a black longboat with yellow embroidery and fur lining, slipping on black gloves as he did. Finally he reached down and tied his black boots with golden laces. He paused, and seemed to stiffen, reaching for the empty space around his neck. He seemed to panic as he realized there was nothing there. The boy quickly paced around the room, searching for something. He settled on the bed and tore into it ripping sheets apart in a desperate search. Finally, he found what he was looking for: an obsidian amulet, carved in the shape of a bass clef, tied with a simple loop leather string. He gazed at the object thoughtfully, recalling his dream, before placing it around his neck.
He began to fasten his scabbard around his waist when a noise froze him. There was a knocking coming from the front door of the inn, an odd occurrence for this early hour. Needless to say, he was suspicious. Pressing his ear against a crack in the door to his room, he listened as the knocking continued until eventually the voice of the elderly inn-keeper could be heard: "Alright, alright, I'm coming already," which was followed closely by the incoherent mutterings of an old man awoken far to early in the morning. The youth could hear the door to the inn creak open, "what do you want? We're full tonig- wait who do you... what's all this about then?" This was followed by what sounded like the door being forced open and the footsteps of several people entering the main room.
The boy could hear someone talking, a gruff male voice, but it was hushed enough so that he could not make out what was being said from his room on the second floor. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. There was no reason for an unsuspecting country inn to receive multiple visitors at this hour. Unless...
Amusing a much more cautious posture, the boy quickly crept to this small window, pausing only to make sure the floor would not creek under his feet. Peering out into the night, he found the surrounding woods to be illuminated by the orange glow of torchlight. He could make out several horses at the edge of the windows field of view though, limited as it was, he could not tell exactly how many. Further out stood two men, each armed with a short blade and light, leather armor. Each bore a very specific white emblem, an inverted sword hilt, one which immediately turned the boys blood to ice. Shit.
The boy ducked from the window, sinking down besides his pack. They had found him. How did they find him? Surely he had been careful to cover his tracks. Was it possible that someone in the last village...? No, it couldn't be. Why were they here of all places? He suddenly was aware of the fact that he was hyperventilating. Clutching his chest he attempted to calm himself. There would be time to think of this later. He had to get out. Now!
He clenched his fist against the fabric of his undershirt, catching the black carving around his neck in his grip. It gave him some comfort. Nodding to himself with resolve, and stood up. Hastily he grabbed the remainder of his belongings in the room and threw them into his satchel, pulling the draw-strings as he did. His mind raced to formulate some kind of plan. The window would be no good. There was no way to open it, and breaking it would alert everyone in the inn to his presence, especially the two outside which he could only assume were exterior guards just waiting for anyone to attempt to leave the premise. Even then it was a two story drop and he was not going to test the strength of his ankles against the hard ground below. He stood up, slinging the bag over his shoulder and checked that his sword was fastened to his waist before creeping over to the door and silently opened it, stepping out into the chilly exterior. There was a short stretch of hallway surrounded by other rooms followed by a railing which overlooked the central room of the inn. He now moved to situate himself next to this railing. If he was going to get out it would have to be through the main room and doing so would require a knowledge of what he was up against. His hand rested against the hilt of his blade.
As he got close to the railing he became aware of the fact that he could now clearly hear the conversation downstairs. He pressed his back against the wall next to the corner and strained his ears to listen. "-furthermore, if ye fancy yerself wantin' ta help the kid and we find out then the clergy 'll be happy ta take you in to, ahh, make you see the errors of your way. So I'll be askin' ya one more time, have ya seen this person?" The boy let out a slight sigh of relief. So they didn't actually know he was here, this was simply a random search. Furthermore, judging by the mans rough voice and choice of words, they didn't seem to be trained soldiers. Mercenaries maybe? Working up his courage he ventured a short glance around the corner. There were three men visible, each similarly armed to their companions outside. The one in front was currently brandishing a slip of paper at the innkeeper. The elderly man in question now spoke. "Oh yes, I remember now. Yes we have someone like that here. Though now that I think about it I don't remember where I put him up for the nig-" He was immediately cut off by the leader who shoved him aside. "Right, you," He indicated the grunt nearest to himself, "Watch the door. You two check up stairs, you come with me, we'll search the lower level. Remember what they said. This kid ain't a master but he'll be a tough fight if ya try to take him alone."
There were at least five of them inside the building along with the two outside. The boy guessed that there were probably no more then ten if this was just traveling band. That left a few outside still. Quickly attempting to come up with some kind of strategy, he darted back to his room, using the creak of the stairs as the men walked up them to mask the sound of his movements. He quietly shut the door behind him, lifted the covers, and stuffed his travelers pack under the sheets attempting to make it as convincingly human-like as possible before covering his make-shift dummy up. He positioned himself next the door so that it would swing in front of him, his back to the wall. Finally, he drew his sword, holding it at his side and waited, attempting to control his breathing so as not to make a sound.
Click. "Nohin' in 'ere" Click, Aaaaagh! "Eh heh, sorry lady. Not 'ere either." They were approaching quickly. From the sound of the voices, each had taken a side. Thanking his luck, the boy waited with baited breath. Click. Click. Click. Finally the noise of footsteps paused just outside his door. This was it.
The door was opened forcefully, stopping mere centimeters away from the boy's face. There stood the mercenary, he was burly looking, about a head taller than the boy. A faint smell of alcohol wafted into the room from his direction. The man looked around briefly before settling on the shape in the sheets of the bed. His face screwed up into something that would have been a smile if the man had more than a few teeth left. "Wakey wakey, sleepy head. C'mon, rise and shine Sleeping Beauty," He jeered. When the bag gave him no reply he smirked to himself, brandishing his short-blade as he advanced on the bed. "If ye don't come out I'm gonna hafta get a bit rough now."
Silently the boy watched from behind the door. He waited until his assailant had fully entered the room before quietly moving the door aside and approaching the man's exposed back. Quietly he raised the hilt of his sword, waiting for the opportunity to strike. The mercenary roughly grabbed the sheets and tore them aside, only to let out a small cry of shock at the sight before him. This cry, however, was lost in a muffled gasp as the boy kicked his knee out while drawing his forearm across the man's mouth. With all his might, the boy brought the hilt of his sword crashing down on the mans head in a terrible coup de grace, the impact resulting in a muffled thud.
The mercenary fell limp, landing soundlessly on the bed. That's one. "Ye find anything, Gato?" Came the rough voice of the fallen mercenary's companion, the boy immediately spun towards towards the door. placing both hands on his sword,. "Gato? Gato! Jeeze ya lump, the hells'amatter wit ya? You been drinkin' again cause the boss in't gon-" The man paused as he turned the corner into the room. Uppon seeing the boy he drew back in surprise before giving a smile filled with only slightly more teeth than his comrade. "Now what is 'dis 'ere? I think I may just be gettin' payed extra tonight! Cem'ere boy! I won't hurt ya now!" He leaned back to yell "Oy, Bos-OOFH" Of course this was cut short as the butt of the boy's sword was driven into his gut. Exhaling sharply, the man's short sword clattered to the floor as he doubled over from the first strike. The back of his head now met a similar fate to his companion before him, however before he even had time to hear the floor, the leader could be heard calling from downstairs.
"Hey! The hell're you two doin' up there? You find him or didn't you? Oy! Answer me already!" This was followed by a short pause before before he barked "Dammit! Right, stay there, we'll go get him!"
Silently the boy cursed to himself. So much for remaining hidden. He picked up his bag before rushing from the room. Adrenaline coursed through him, there was a ringing of blood in his ears. He would have to fight his way out. In the hall he was greeted by two more attackers rushing up the stairs at him.
The one in front pointed him out shouting "Right, he's here, boys, lets get him!" Thankfully, the walk way from the stairs only allowed for the men to walk one abreast. The first man charged at the boy, letting out a thuggish roar as he did. Having little time to react the boy threw his bag at the attacker, dashing just behind it. The mercenary reacted in turn, slashing at the bag, tearing its fabric and sending the contents every which way. Utilizing this brief distraction the boy cleared the gap between them, bringing his own sword down for an overhead strike. The mercenary, now recovered from having a bag of food and clothing flung in his face, managed to bring his own blade up for a high block, allowing the boys sword to run the length of his blade, trapping it in the bend of the hilt. The boy was about to yank his weapon back but was too late to see the man grin as he brought his free right hand around, punching the boy in the jaw. The boy was slammed against the wall before falling back to the floor and was only just able to bring his sword up to block the downward cut that followed. Having little other choise, and barely being able to resist the constant pressure being placed against his sword, the boy brought his feet around, trapping the mercenary's knees. With a twist, he swept his attackers feet out from under him, sending him careening through the railing and into a table in the room below.
The second mercenary wasted no time in pressing the attack, giving the boy barely enough time to get to his feet before he was met with a flurry of blows. Deflecting attack after attack, the boy was finally able to successfully parry a thrust, deflecting it to the side and unbalancing the mercenary. The boy jumped backwards, hoping to open up some distance between him and his opponent, allowing him to use the reach advantage of his longer weapon. His plans, however, were abruptly ruined by a shout of "Hey!" behind him. The boy turned his head only to pale slightly at the sight of one of the larger men he thought he had knocked out charged at him from behind. Turning back he saw the one in front of him also regain his composure and begin to advance in an equally rapid manner. Fearing his imminent doom, a single option presented itself to him, as unappealing as it was. Jump!
He jumped, leaping through the hole in the railing made by the first mercenary and landing squarely on the aforementioned mans stomach. His knees bucked from the fall as he rolled to his back on the floor, losing his grip on his sword in the process. His head spun from the impact as he tried to re-ascertain his position, only to focus on the rather large figure in-front of him bringing down a sword on top of his head. Quickly he rolled on his stomach to dodge the blow as he heard the loud thunk of steel hitting wood next to him, the blade lodging itself in the floor. He spun on his back, bringing both his knees up to his chest before delivering a kick to his attackers wrist still gripping the blade. The man cried out in pain, ripping his sword out of the floor as he did. The boy scrambled to his feet and ran forward, feeling the breeze of a horizontal slash barely missing his back. He ran towards the small counter that served as a bar in the inn and dove over it, ducking below the counter to avoid any oncoming attack.
Nothing came, however, and as the boy once again tried to regain his bearings, his heart throbbing painfully in his chest. He heard a sickening laughter fill the room as the remaining men called out to him. "Come on out, kid. We won't hurt ya! Can't say the same about the people payin' us but we'll be nice! Promise!" Hidden behind the bar the boy's face contorted into a grimace, his teeth girting in frustration. Trapped. He had gotten careless, thinking it was safe to stay in an inn for once, how stupid could he have been? "Now come on boy. You gonna make us wait here all night? We got some candy for ya!" Shut up!
"I gotta admit, kid. Ye did a number on us but I think the pointy things best be left to the grownups!" A chorus of harsh laughter from his companions. Shut up shut up shut UP! No, it wasn't going to end like this. It couldn't end like this! He had things he needed to do. There was someone waiting for him, somewhere out there. She needs me! He wasn't about to get done in by some damn thugs! In a rage he slammed his fist into the shelf beside him and was met with the clinking of glass. An idea suddenly hit him. Feeling around in the shelf his hand finally came to rest on a glass object.
The mercenary leader nodded to one of his men and they both began to approach the bar, swords drawn. "Alright, lad, if ye ain't gonna come quietly we're gonna hafta get a bit rough on ya. So... just make it easy on yers-Woah!" The boy suddenly stood up and hurled a bottle of spirits, the bottle just barely missing the man in front. It shattered somewhere on the floor behind him. "Ah hah ha, ye see that boys? He's gone to throwin' things at us now! Ye gonna throw a temper tantrum now kid, cos we don't have time for that now do we?"
"Uhh, boss?"
"So, since yer not old enough ta drink yet, why don't ya just come out before you break anythin' else? It's a waste of good drink I tell ya!"
"Oy, Boss!"
"What?" The man tuned ready to cuss his subordinate out for interrupting his taunts. His gruff face however soon adopted a look of horror as he viewed the scene behind him. The bottle had shattered next to the open fire-pit which served to warm the inn, it's volatile contents quickly igniting into a small inferno which was now rapidly spreading throughout the room. His horror was short lived, replaced by a the embrace of unconsciousness as a second bottle was shattered across his head.
The remaining mercenaries turned, advancing on their now exposed query, who, unarmed as he was, slowly backed away from them. The best the boy could do was put on his most determined face and brandish the shattered bottle in the most menacing way possible. His mind screamed in terror. They would catch him and he would be shipped off. Locked in a cell maybe, or executed, he didn't know. Why did he ever think staying here was a good idea? Throwing that bottle had seemed like a good idea at the time. Improvisation, while great in a pinch, really didn't allow one to think more than a few steps in advance. He had hoped the fire would provide more of a distraction but apparently the mercenaries were more concerned with getting paid than being trapped in a burning building. Of course, once improvisation is out the door in such desperate times, you're really only left with one other option: sheer blind luck.
You see, at that moment, the guests, having previously remained hidden in their rooms to avoid confrontation with the band of armed men, collectively began smelling the smoke from the fire. At the same time, the innkeeper, who had remained off to the side afraid to move, shouted "FIRE!" and, in turn, the guests panicked. They fled from their rooms carrying whatever belongings they could hold and ran headlong into the mercenaries, pushing them aside. The boy, recognizing a chance when he saw one, darted forward into the confusion. He weaved his way through the crowd, and managed to fish his sword out from under their feet before reaching the exit.
The mercenaries sent to guard the exterior had currently drawn their weapons and leveled them at the oncoming mob, shouting "Get back!" and "Stop! The lot of ya!" Deciding to avoid more violence if he could help it, the boy rushed to the head of the crowd. The guard in the center spotted this and attempted to slash at the boy, however he was too slow in bringing up his sword which was roughly pushed aside as the boy drove his shoulder into the mans stomach. The mercenary was knocked to the ground, gasping for breath and only had time to realize that the boy had run on before he was trampled by the human stampede.
It was some time before the boy stopped running. He had reached a clearing on top of a hill as he slowed to a stop, the exhaustion of his ordeals finally catching up to him. He collapsed backwards into the damp grass, panting. He lay there for a long while, at first catching his breath, and then just staring into the quickly brightening sky. Eventually he sat up. In the distance he could see smoke still rising from the inn. A sickening reminder of his carelessness. "So, I suppose it's the ground from now on for me," He mused with a small smile. Suddenly a though crossed his mind. "The 27th," he muttered to no one in particular. "Four years since... Well, happy birthday, Len. Happy birthday... Happy birthday..." He trailed off as he grasped the amulet around his neck, turning it over in his hand. It felt warm in his grip, comforting. Removing the item he held it before him, silhouetted by the orange glow of morning. She was waiting for him, somewhere out there. She needed him.He stood, turning his back to the inn and set off toward the East. The rising sun casting a long shadow behind him.
"Happy birthday, Rin."
Without a certain destination I keep traveling East, my shadow is my only companion.
So, once again, I lied about the whole not doing PV based stuff so screw it I say. I'll do whatever comes to mind. As I said at the start, this chapter alone represents several firsts for me. These include my first time writing out a combat situation, first time writing a truly serious (or attempt at serious) piece, and the first time I've done a multiple chapter story thing that wasn't a bunch of one shots. It also happens to break my last pieces record as the longest single thing I've written (Insert me being annoyingly proud of myself here.)
A few notes on writing this here: First of all, the first thousand words took about five times longer to write than the last 4000 words. I am terrible at starting things. This one in particular gave me a lot of grief and I had a huge writers block with it which kind of spread out to everything I was trying to write. It also didn't help that that I had to re-write the first 1000 words three times due to various crap happening (If you look at my profile you'll see why.) So I pretty much did 1000 words in two weeks (Working a few hours every few nights) and then everything else in two nights. Upon looking at this on the site I realize that the paragraphs, being a tad long, end up somewhat blocky, sorry about that.
Now that I have my general ramblings that no one cares about done with (lol using authors notes as my personal blog, am I cool yet guys?) I move on to the part that I want people to actually read. I am going to break another "I'm not gonna do this if I write" but this time with good reason. I am going to say "Please dear god review this." No, it has nothing to do with the fact that my last thing got one review (/slap myself, Stop it!) But I want to know peoples opinions. You see, there are several issues with what I'm doing here. The first is the fact that Synchronicity is only on part 2/3 and therefor, the story is incomplete. This however, is supplanted by the larger issue with me. I started writing this with a very rough idea of what I wanted to do with the plot. Since then I have filled a open office document with ideas, character discriptions, and plot outlines. Pretty much I know what I want to do with this story at least in terms of the main plot. However, upon doing all this, I actually read the "official" interpretation of the PV's (I'm not sure if they're actually official but I saw it in more than one place so...) Anyway, needless to say, my idea is somewhat different.
So, before I end up being WAAAAAY too TL:DR with this: I would be extremely grateful if people would let me know, hell, even through a PM if you don't want to review: What you thought (Is my writing solid? I've never written like this before.) and if you think I should just go ahead with my current idea (which I like better than the interpretation I saw because I'm egotistical like that) or try to just do an actual novelization or whatever. Thanks, I'll never ask for reviews again (though they're always nice.)
To end this extremely long and boring series of authors notes I will give my usual: Any glaring grammatical mistakes are my own fault so feel free to point them out to me so I can fix them now and in future attempts. Also, just because I find it interesting when people do this type of thing: Unlike last time, I didn't really listen to any song in particular Vocaloid or otherwise while writing this (Paradise of Light and Shadow notwithstanding) Though when doing my final checks I had Len's Shota Shota Fever Miracle Tonight on loop. Eurobeat is catchy dammit!