Okaeri

Summary: Living alone since a rather young age, Kaito's never really heard the words "welcome home" spoken to him… Until he decides to pick up an abandoned Vocaloid that he found in the gutter. Human!KaitoxLen

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The rain was heavy, soaking, and freezing. In other words, it was all the things that typically made up November rain. It had snowed earlier that day, but already the rain had already washed the snow away, replacing it with the assured possibility of icy sidewalks that would make up his whole walk to work the next day.

It wasn't a day to be outside. But Kaito didn't have they money to buy a car or take a cab, and his work was too close to take the train. So he walked to and from both of his second-rate jobs, which he had to work to pay the rent for his second-rate apartment. And anywhere else he had to go, including his latest destination – the grocery store.

Sighing heavily and shaking his head, he turned into the alleyway that led to the side entrance of his apartment building. Trashcans piled along the sides, discarded items spilling out of them onto the cement beneath them. They were abandoned, just like him.

Kaito shifted his bags of groceries onto one arm, and stuck the key into the door's lock. It clicked open with a small amount of resistance, and the door fell open, hitting the wall behind it with a dull thud.

Kaito shifted his burden again, and started walking back in.

And stopped.

He looked down, seeing a scrap of bright yellow in the pile of browns and blacks that dominated the trash pile. He set down his groceries to hold the door open, and went to get a closer look. He gently prodded a bag, and it fell off the pile into the alleyway.

Underneath was a boy. Kaito's eyes widened in shock, and he rushed over, pushing more bags off of the boy. He put a hand in front of the boy's mouth, to check if he was breathing. "Oh God…" he muttered. Whispering prayers under his breath, Kaito lifted the surprisingly light boy into his arms…

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Kaito continued to hover over the boy even after he'd taken him inside. He'd covered him up with practically every blanket he owned and stripped him, hoping to warm up the smaller male. All he could think to do next would be to strip himself and lay next to him, like you were supposed to do in a hypothermia case (which this probably was, considering the temperature outside – God knew how long that poor kid had been there). Of course, he should probably call the paramedics—

He moved.

Oh, thank all the gods on Earth. The kid moved.

He knelt down, brushing blonde hair away from his eyes. "Hey, come on. Wake up…"

The blonde opened his eyes, wearily. They were shockingly blue, like the ocean on a clear summer day. Kaito nearly lost himself in them, hypnotized by the boy's looks.

"Master…?" the blonde boy rasped, clenching his eyes shut against the light.

Kaito's eyebrows furrowed as he moved to pull the curtains closed. Master? What had this kid gone through?

A pervert kidnapped him, took him home, made him refer to him as 'Master', and did unspeakable acts to the poor kid, maybe? Kaito thought absently.

The boy sat up, looking around himself. He looked lost. Kaito looked back at him, and gave him a smile. "It's okay. Lay back. You're nearly frozen. You'll be safe here, I promise."

"My clothes…" the boy responded, still staring at Kaito with those eyes…

Kaito turned red. "I swear I didn't do anything!" he yelled. "I swear, you were just cold, I was trying to get you out of those wet—"

"All systems are operational. The wet weather did not damage me," the boy responded.

Kaito started at him. "Systems…?"

The boy stood, clad only in a spare pair of Kaito's boxers – that were a good two sizes too big. He bowed politely, and looked back up at Kaito. "My name is Kagamine Len, Master. I'm a Vocaloid Generation 2 model, custom-made for you. I look forward to being of use to you."

A Vocaloid. What the hell was a Vocaloid doing in the trash? Whoever had thrown him away was loony. On top of that, a Generation 2 – those weren't even in stores yet! Barely anyone could afford these things.

"Master?"

"…A Vocaloid…" Kaito shook his head, unbelievingly. "Do you have any proof?" he muttered.

Len tipped his head to the side. "What do you mean, Master?" he asked innocently. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Can you prove you're a Vocaloid? You look human enough to me."

Len nodded. "My chords will be packed in the pockets of my shorts," he explained. "I can hook myself up to your computer, and you can verify my authenticity."

Kaito glanced over at his ancient dinosaur of a computer in the corner. It could barely stay on the Internet for more than five minutes before crashing. How was it supposed to handle a Vocaloid?

Len, however, had already found the chords he'd told Kaito about. He moved aside some of his bangs, and plugged a chord into a small hole just above his hairline – one that was easily hidden by his thick mop of yellow hair. He plugged the other end into the back of the computer somewhere, and pulled up a program. He sat on the computer chair and began typing. Len seemed to be concentrating on something.

"Master, I believe you need a new computer. I'm spending more time keeping it running than pulling up the necessary documents," Len commented.

Kaito deadpanned. Why did that not surprise him?

After a few moments, Len pulled aside from the computer, where an official-looking document had been pulled up. Kaito bent over, reading it, all the while in shock.

Congratulations! You are now the proud owner of a Vocaloid Generation 2 unit! We were happy to fulfill your custom order for the "Kagamine Len" unit. The unit should come with…

The paper went on and on, talking about warnings (the most specifically mentioned were something about waffle irons and something called the "Kagamine Rin" unit), 'Len's' functions, and suggested songs for 'download'.

Len looked over at Kaito with a curious expression. "Is something wrong, Master? The papers are in order…"

"It's… nothing," Kaito said, running a hand through his hair.

He had a Vocaloid, of all things. And he'd found it in the trash.

Well, he'd be damned if he didn't make use of this find.

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Kaito sat down, handing a bowl of instant ramen noodles to Len. "Here. Eat up." He sat down next to Len on the rickety old futon in his living room and began inhaling his.

Len looked at the food with interest. "What? Come on, Len. Just eat."

Len looked at Kaito. "I'm not required to eat, Master."

"Don't worry. It's been a while since I had someone to eat with, anyways, so it might be nice." Kaito shrugged it off, and went back to inhaling his noodles. He still had to put away the groceries, now that he thought about it…

Len picked up his pair of chopsticks hesitantly. "Ita…dakimasu," he said uncertainly. He attempted to mimic the position of Kaito's hand, trying and failing to hold the chopsticks. They fell out of his hand, and the blonde blushed, attempting to get it right again.

After three or four failed attempts, Kaito set his noodles aside, and took Len's hand. He spread Len's fingers into the familiar position for holding chopsticks, and stuck one in deftly. "You hold this one still," he said, showing Len which fingers to use, "And move just this one. You don't move both." He stuck the other one into Len's small hand. "Try."

Len attempted to move his pointer with the chopstick. It fell to the floor. The boy stubbornly grabbed it and tried again.

Kaito watched in amusement as the Vocaloid kept trying to use the chopsticks, adorably messing up in one way or another each time. Kaito had to admit that this was one thing he'd thought would have been pre-programmed into each Vocaloid. But he supposed that, like real kids, Len had a lot to learn. After all, he looked like he could barely be more then twelve years old.

But he didn't have the money to support a Vocaloid. He didn't have the money for the updates and upgrades, nor for the clothes Len was sure to need – after all, he couldn't just keep wearing the clothes he came in, and Kaito knew that his clothes were far too big, even with a belt and the cuffs rolled up three or four times.

He could probably sell him, even in used condition, for a few years' worth of rent and ice cream… After all, he'd been in bad need of money for a long time. Maybe Len was an answer to his prayers – like a lottery ticket. Len looked at Kaito, his eyes sparking with excitement. "Master! I got it!" he called in triumph, showing Kaito a small chunk of noodles hanging from his eating utensils.

Kaito knew he most likely wouldn't have the heart to go through with that.

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Kaito got off from his day job as a waiter at the café down the street around five PM. His shift as a bartender at the bar four blocks away started in two and a half hours, so he had time to run home, eat dinner, and check on how Len was coming along.

He wondered if it was okay to leave Len alone in the house all day. He wouldn't do anything he wasn't supposed to, would he? He suddenly had a mental image of his apartment in ruins, and Len sitting in the midst of the rubble. He shuddered and picked up his pace.

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Thankfully, there was no destroyed apartment waiting for him. He climbed up the stairs, and could hear something faintly. He stopped, and listened carefully. He could tell it was coming from the fourth or fifth floor.

After climbing up another flight of stairs, he could tell it was from his apartment. He bolted up the last few flights. What the hell was Len doing? Had he blown the apartment up in the past minute and a half? Had he obliviously invited in a stranger? Had the apartment been broken into?

Was Len hurt?

He reached the door, and froze.

Everything was fine. Everything was better than fine.

Len was singing.

"Like a Fire Flower,

I must not disappear.

Sparks scatter everywhere as my dream launches away;

'It would have been better if I had never loved you from the start!', I tell such a lie…"

Kaito entered the apartment, and was surprised when Len cut off abruptly in the middle of a word. "Oh… Len, don't mind me, go ahead and sing if you want," he says, waving a hand in a 'carry on' gesture.

Len walked towards him, a small smile on his face. "I was just passing the time."

"Until?"

"Until you got home, Master. Okaeri*."

Kaito's eyes widened momentarily. In his whole life, no one had ever welcomed him home. And he found that he (sort of) liked it.

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[*] Okaeri – Japanese equivalent of "Welcome home".