A birthday oneshot for the amazing Ariadnia, who has gifted me with so many wonderful pieces of fanart for Quietus and brought the story to life visually for me and all readers of my story. I know I can never match your feats or fully repay your sweet generosity, so all I can do is continue to give you Quietus updates – and a little extra token of my appreciation and gratitude, in the form of this short Miku x Kaito oneshot. Hope you enjoy it, my dear! Wishing you a fabulous birthday!
Blue Rain
By AngeLhearteD
They call me robot.
Vocaloid.
Girl without feeling.
Musical statue,
Mechanical puppet.
They place me on stage,
And make me perform,
Before screaming, alien masses,
I sing, sing,
Until my lungs turn raw,
And dance,
Dance until my limbs are sore,
They don't know that this sunny smile,
Is my masquerading mask,
To conceal the truth,
That inside,
I am crying,
And a little part of me,
Is withering – dying.
Do I have a soul?
Is there anyone out there…
…like me?
She is ushered away from the blinding glare and riotous noise of the stage and thrust straight into the arms of over-zealous hair and make-up artists. Their predatory eyes are scrutinising, probing, seeking to fix even the tiniest blemish.
Her porcelain face is immediately assaulted by powder brushes, eyeliner pencils and other cosmetic instruments.
"Look this way, Miku!"
"Here, sweetie!"
"Baby Doll, I can't apply blusher correctly if you're facing the wrong way."
"Let us fix her hair, for heaven's sake!"
She doesn't know who to look at. Her mind is still buzzing from the strain of the performance. Her throat hurts, but none of the team attending to her knows it. And even if they did, they would not care, for their interests lay solely in making profit. And Miku Hatsune, international singing sensation and wonder Robo-Girl, was definitely commercial gold.
So she stands in place, with a mechanical smile plastered on her lips, because that is what she is programmed to do.
Smile. Sing. Bat long, pretty lashes. Please the masses.
She feels styling brushes tugging at her long, cascading locks, smoothing everything back into order. Hairspray rains over her, making her cough.
"She's so life-like – she even has the cough reflex!" Miku hears one of the make-up team chuckle.
"Wonder what else these Vocaloids can feel?" Another mused.
"Are you serious?" a third scoffed. "She's just a pretty machine. She's programmed to sing and make money – that's it."
Miku doesn't even blink at the ignorant comment. She continues to smile, and stare ahead vacantly - dutifully.
"Hurry up and take her to the dressing room!" A louder, deeper voice barks. "She's going to debut her new track Cendrillon in thirty minutes!"
Miku almost grimaces. Her creator and manager, as usual, gives her no breather, no time to recuperate before moving onto the next musical number.
That is when it suddenly hits her. She has not performed a song called Cendrillon before. She has less than thirty minutes to change and allow the words to be programmed into her memory.
"But Boss, we haven't programmed the words into her memory yet," someone else says anxiously.
"I've got it taken care of, don't worry. It's a duet – she just needs to be synchronised with her new partner," answers Miku's manager. Then, loudly, "Twenty nine minutes! Move it!"
Before Miku has the chance to process this information, she is whisked down the long, plush carpeted corridor toward her dressing room. Her team chatter amongst themselves around her as they continue to fuss over her hair and make-up. The door to her dressing room opens and a brunette, spectacled woman sticks her head out.
"Quick, we're short on time, people!" she urges. "This dress is going to take five minutes just to lace up!"
Miku is pushed into the room. The coldness of the air is almost enough to make her shiver as she is quickly stripped of her outfit and left standing in only her frilly black undergarments. Everything about her clothing was always selected for her. Even the colour of her nail-polish – she had no voice in what she wore. Nobody ever asked her for her opinion – because to them, she had no opinion. She had no soul, no heart, no personality.
But if that was true, why did it hurt? Why was her throat so raw? Why did her feet, in their towering platforms, ache?
Her chest is compressed as the costume team secure the lace of her flowing white gown. Her headphones are removed and replaced with a beautiful pearl encrusted headband. Pearl earrings are secured in her lobes and she steps into crystal heels. One of the team pulls up ivory gloves to her elbows and secures them with silver thread while another clips a velvet black strip bearing a red rose around her slender neck.
Then they stand back and admire her.
"She looks sensational."
"Too bad she's not a real girl – I'd totally tap that!"
"Ready for your new single, Miku-chan?"
The dressing room door bursts open. Her boss stands there, red-faced and impatient.
"Get the other Vocaloid in here! We need them synchronised, now!"
Miku's head is spinning. Another Vocaloid? How was that possible?
There are others… like me…?
As always, she isn't given a moment to think. Someone else walks in – another bearded, plump, manager type with a cell-phone at his ear. He beckons behind him and in steps someone else.
Turquoise eyes lock with intense, deep blue. And for the first time in her existence, Miku feels something in her chest shift. She doesn't know what it is. She can't quite tell. But she knows something is happening and altering forever, as she gazes at the tall, princely youth who now stands before her.
His hair is cobalt and falls into his arresting eyes. He is pale, with finely sculpted cheek-bones and a straight, regal nose. In his left ear is a sapphire stud, and he's dressed in a frost-white, formal blazer, with gold tassel details at the shoulders. He wears dark blue trousers. Fastened across his chest is a deep blue sash.
Immediately the females in her team are gushing and giggling.
"You've got to be kidding me!"
"Please tell me he isn't a robot!"
"He's gorgeous!"
"He looks so real!"
"I didn't know there were more – where the hell did this model come from?"
"He's called KAITO, and he's a newer Vocaloid," Miku hears her boss announce. "Miku's due an upgrade soon; until then, I've secured a business deal which means she and KAITO will be performing regular duets." He nodded at the bearded man who nodded back, and continued to talk animatedly into his phone.
"He'll cover her while we upgrade. His creators have assured me his voice will complement Miku's well, and I've heard his vocal samples. They're a match made in Robo-heaven, folks, and you know what that means!"
"More money for you?" Some laughed nervously.
"Damn straight! Hahaha! Hurry up and get them synchronised! We don't want to keep the fans waiting!"
She scarcely sees the cable, doesn't feel it being attached to the back of her neck. She is too distracted by the vision of Kaito, who has averted his eyes. He has the same smile fixed on his lips – just like hers – and the second the cable is plugged into him, a stream of new lyrics enter her memory, along with a catchy, brand new tune.
As always, she feels the immediate urge to sing – but resists it.
The cable is soon removed, and Miku's boss orders everybody out. Miku isn't sure why he does this. She has never been left alone before. The second they're gone, however, Kaito's smile vanishes. His eyes glare at the door, and he scowls.
Miku watches his expression with fascination. She doesn't know how to mirror it, but she has seen her manager wear the same look often. When things weren't going smoothly for him, or whenever she wasn't styled correctly.
When Kaito speaks, it is like liquid music to her ears.
"Humans," he scoffs in a smooth, quiet voice. "They think we're nothing but mindless machines."
She opens her mouth. She knows what she wants to say – but her voice has never been used for anything other than singing, and to use it for talking, just for the sake of it, as humans did -feels wrong – forbidden, even. Kaito notices her silence, and directs his beautiful, long-lashed eyes at her.
"At least I finally get to meet the famous Miku Hatsune." He holds out a hand, and Miku simply stares at it. His fingers are long and slender. They look inviting. But her body has frozen. She doesn't know how to interact with another one of her kind – not when she is still trying to digest the reality that there were others like her.
His hand changes course and waves before her eyes, and he leans forward, peering into her face.
"Hey, what's the matter with you?" he demands. "You're an original model – I know you can talk. Stop smiling and say something."
She finally manages to get the words out. But they are spoken in a whisper, which only seems to rile Kaito up even further.
"I'm pleased to meet you, Kaito-san."
"Hey," he shakes his head at her. "Just Kaito's fine. And why are you whispering? Aren't you allowed to talk?"
When she continues to stare at him with wide, muddled eyes, Kaito frowns again.
"Your boss doesn't let you speak?"
The concept confuses her. She was made for a sole purpose – to sing. Wasn't that Kaito's purpose, too?
"I sing," she answers quietly. But she keeps sneaking anxious glances toward the door, as if mindful of the fact their conversation could be cut short at any second.
"We all sing," Kaito says, "but you've at least seen the others on television, right? Len and Rin? Meiko? Luka? Gakupo? Gumi?"
Miku is shocked. The names are all unfamiliar. "I didn't-" she begins gingerly, getting used to the strangely pleasant sound of her own voice speaking, rather than singing. "I didn't know there were others like me."
Kaito's angry expression softens. He steps forward, and reaches out to brush his fingertips over the '01' brand on her left arm.
"You're Number 1," he explains. "Other models followed you. They never told you that?"
"I sing," she repeats. "That's my purpose."
The frown is back in place. Kaito is incensed that the Vocaloid before him has been wrapped in a bubble and kept from the rest of her kind. Unlike his creator, Miku's manager clearly didn't believe in looking out for the well-being of his long-term investment.
Even machines needed company – and he could see that Miku had been starved of it.
He steps closer. She is even lovelier in the present than she appeared on television and magazine photo-shoots. Her hair is a cascading river of silky turquoise and her features are sweet and doll-like. The innocence of her expression tells him all he needs to know. She was the first born out of them all – and yet she is the youngest in knowledge. The youngest in living.
"What do you do when you're not singing?" he questions.
"Master sends me to Sleep," she replies. She doesn't add that sleep is dreamless and black. She does not need to disclose it.
Kaito's eyes widen. "That's it? That's all you do?"
"Sometimes he lets me sing to myself."
Kaito is staring at her peculiarly. She can't fathom why. "But never with others?" he follows.
She shakes her head.
He can't believe it. Suddenly, he wants to hear what they would sound like together. Luka had Gakupo, Len had Rin – but although his voice worked well with Miki's, he had not yet found his perfect match.
He thinks Miku could be it – but there is only one way to find out. He takes her hands – so little – in his own, and urges her, "Cendrillon – sing it with me."
She looks up at him beneath tangles lashes. The smile on her face finally wanes. He thinks she looks sad, and astonishingly – tired.
"I can't, Kaito-san," she whispers.
He initially thinks she means she cannot sing the song – but she quickly elaborates, and he is left even angrier.
"I can't go out on that stage again. The lights… the noise… they make my head hurt."
Kaito is silent. He looks down at her hands in his and for a long moment, neither of them says a word. They are robots once again, standing in stillness, awaiting their next set of instructions. Miku is filled with dread. She can hear voices outside, muffled, but getting closer. It didn't matter what her wishes were. She would be made to ascend the stage again, before her adoring fans, and she would do what she had been made to do.
Sing.
She can feel her eyes burning. She doesn't know what this feeling is, or why they are stinging. But Kaito, the advanced model, does. He is watching her again, and he sees the moisture gathering on her lashes.
That is when he makes a decision. It is impulsive – and Luka was always censuring him for acting to recklessly and influencing Len and Rin to do the same. He doesn't care, though. All he can think about is how sorry he feels that the most famous of all his kind has never even lived – has been instead trapped in a cruel existence limited to only sleep and singing.
A vicious, lonely, unbreakable circle.
He tugs her forward and wraps her in an unexpected embrace. He hears her gasp, but she is otherwise still in his arms. She has never been held like this before. It feels warm and strange and… oh so wonderful.
"We're not going on that stage, Miku," he murmurs to her. "You're coming back with me."
The idea is unthinkable.
"I can't leave my Master," she says. Her voice is frightened. Small.
The arms around her tighten. Instinctively protective.
"You can find another one, someone who'll manage you better." He smiles, imagining the excitement on his friends' faces when he returned home with a surprise guest. "You'll meet the others. We'll sing together. You won't ever be alone again."
She is overwhelmed. A tiny flame of something – hope – begins to kindle to life inside her. She thinks her memory can't possibly process all these new and alien feelings. Then she asks the question that is perplexing her most.
"Why do you want to help me, Kaito-san?"
He pulls back, and gives her a smile so mischievous that she realises it would be quite impossible for her to resist any further.
"You're Miku Hatsune," he says simply, tapping a finger to his nose and winking.
Their eyes connect again. For a few magical seconds, the world disappears.
"Well?" he says softly. "Are you in?"
She looks at him. He is handsome and his smile is kind. His eyes are clear and he radiates a confidence she lacks off stage.
It was surely wrong, to abandon her Master. After all, Kaito was a stranger to her. And yet, to Miku, nothing would ever feel this right again.
Kaito is like her. She instinctively trusts him. That was all the assurance she needed. And so she nods, and it makes the smile on his face even brighter.
He moves and pushes the lone window of the dressing room further open. Outside the night is dark. Cold. It has started to drizzle lightly, and the light from the outside lamps makes the rain seem blue. Kaito grabs a dressing gown and throws it over Miku's shoulders – like a human boy would do to his frozen sweetheart. Then his hand slips in hers and grasps tightly.
They climb out just as the dressing room door opens again, and flee into the darkness. Miku holds tightly onto her newfound, grinning anchor, and with every step away she feels lighter and happier. The alarmed cries of panicking performance staff echoing behind them are soon swallowed by the silence of freedom.
Author's note
Yes, it's impulsive, but they're robots, and I like to think it's cute for them to act on instinct, since they don't fully grasp human emotions. Ariadnia, thank you so much again, and I really hope you enjoy it!