A/N
Okay, this is a little project of mine. I've been working on it for a while now and only recently decided to post it… It's absolutely AU. The vocaloids aren't vocaloids. I'm just using their characters—and not even their personalities, really. Just their names and appearances ^^' I apologize if that annoys anyone in advance
So, anyways, it's a love story between Miku and Kaito 'cause I just think of them as the perfect couple ever since "Cendrillon". So this was inspired by that lovely tune. I then collected other songs I love—all vocaloid, of course. This is my plan: to start every section with the lyrics to a vocaloid song fitting the story. Maybe not the section—although I'll try my hardest, I'm just horrible at that—it'll fit the story. And I expect you to listen to the song while reading the section, too -_- It always follows an underlying rhythm ever present in the featured song
As for the title… Well, in Romaji, it says "Anata wa ai shite imasu". Haji says it to Saya in the final EP of Blood+. Now, I know this isn't Blood+, but I love how he says it and it does translate to "I love you" on the deepest level, so… yeah…
On with the story!!
貴女は愛しています
We'll be together forever, my love…
「有罪となった」 - "Guilty Rose" by Hatsune Miku
Translation by motokokusanagi2009
Words of love I dedicate to you
How many times do I have to say it to see the end?
Thorn vines accusing me
Twine around my neck and I'm about to drown
Deeply
In the jet black darkness
Oozing from the ripped heaven
A guilty rose is madly crimsonly glowing
For the ailing fancy
There's no way to flee from a gaze
That is coming up to the back as I knock at the door
Like a stinging needle
Bit by bit I pain you
Strongly
As if ripping a flesh, crushing bones,
Drinking up dripping blood,
In the body a guilty rose
Roots deeply and stains crimson
After blooming, it tries to capture you
Without knowing the fate to wither
Scattering its sweet scent,
It enfolds its beloved one
Even if it's to hurt or destroy the love,
A guilty rose that yet gets colored more crimson is love
It blooms beautifully, fleetingly, ardently
The night was young, stars twinkling silver. The sky was not a pitch black all throughout, but instead a swirling mass of color. Upon the west horizon was a tinge of violet, the stars a hazy magenta specked with silver sparks. As it neared the eastern horizon, violet faded to navy, glittering jewels on velvet. At the edge of the world, upon the eastern horizon, the world was the endless black of Death as that cloaked figure approached, empty eyes boring holes in the soul, sparkling white like bone shards scattered across.
Silhouetted against this sparkling, dark pallet was a tall, rigid form. Turrets jutted off from the main mass, small sticks with rounded tops moving between view holes. Furthering the gaze down, an endless, jagged mass of branches, leaves, and needles. A black forest from which came the caws of crows and the howls of wolves; the cry of an animal taken down in its prime, the hoot of an owl swooping down for a squeaking mouse. Jagged branches were fingers reaching out to pull anything and everything into their grasp, tendrils of hanging moss and ivy the dragging sleeves of nobles with their rancid smiles and merciless ways. At the floor of this deathly forest, small cubic forms with triangles and rectangles as their tops while small swirls of smoke puffed from the rectangles to fade into the night. All these cubes surrounded the stone tower from which shadows crossed through openings, men standing with spears and swords at hand at the entrance, little tufts of fire visible in the endless blackness to light up the towering wooden door, arrows of steel holding it stiff and strong against invaders.
The steps leading up to this impenetrable fortress held fast by a door kept tight with steel arrows and fist-sized bolts were cracked, moss twining through the maze of rivers climbing up and across each slab of stone. The path was worn and beaten, footprints imprinted as they waited for the winds of time to wipe the slate clean. The guards' faces were tired as one yawned, holding a hand up to cover his gaping mouth. Their armor was heavy, the spears splintering in their hands; the sheathed swords were more or less dead weights around each man's respective waist. Every night, these two held the shift to guard this door against foes that never came. Every night was blisteringly cold, the gusting wind bringing flecks of snow from the mountains to melt on flushed cheeks. Come the first light of morning as the dark night became streaked with reds, pinks, oranges, and yellows, the edges a dull gray as the sky faded to a steel blue, they would switch shifts with the day guards who'd endure the blistering heat of the sun's burning rays beating down upon their tanned faces.
Were those doors to open, they'd creak on ancient hinges rusting with disuse. Dust would flutter through the air, tinted silver by the moonlight shining down from above. A wind would push through, red rose petals gliding on its silky draft to float like butterflies, flitting this way and that to gaze upon elaborate paintings of all different sorts, circular steel chandeliers with candles lit, although they did little to light the dim room. An oasis in the stone and steel desert would lie a bed garbed with the finest silks and cottons. Four posters, intricately carved top to bottom, swirls of silk wrapping around like vines, ruffles and a curtain in between totems. Amongst all this refinery would be a girl, tears in her eyes as she restlessly slept in this bed which seemed to grand for the room, too large for someone so small.
But this door was never to open, for none dared to disobey the orders of their king. His word was law, after all, for his power was absolute thanks to the Divine Right of Kings. As it had been for his father and his father's father and so on. For so many generations this obedience had continued until, now, no one questioned it, nor did they even consider it, for it simply wasn't done in this kingdom of absolution. The king's word was law, so never did any dare open this impenetrable door. Night after night, day after day, guards stood at their posts, ever watchful for an enemy never to come. Did they whine? No. Did they complain? No. It was by request of the king, whose word was law. So these soldiers were forever doomed to stand guard at this door, never to face the subversive morons who dared protest against this declaration.
Year in, year out, it remained shut. Year in, year out, rose petals dreamed of flitting in through the doors never to be opened. Of coming upon the girl who held tears in her eyes as she restlessly slept in a bed too grand for the room, too large for the girl.
'I love you.' That was what he had said before he banished her to this eternal prison. 'That is why I must do this.'
His words bit like a stinging needle, paining her bit by bit. How could he do this? How was this love?
However, it didn't matter if she understood or not. The door was destined to remain shut, the guards to keep watch for an enemy never to come while she lay in a bed just as misfit as she, tears in her eyes as she restlessly slept to dream of rose petals drifting in on a draft unable to enter.
In her teary eyed sleep, she would mumble a name, enunciating each syllable as her voice overflowed with unfulfilled love and an every pervading agony as the hole in her heart grew and grew and grew.
And her mind would drift to a time before this empty life where each night was tortured with loneliness and regret, a name slipping between her lips never to answer the call…