Disclaimer: I don't own Vocaloid. That would be pretty cool though.

People were everywhere. The city of Israphel was called "hopping", but in reality it was just over urbanized and smelled bad. Thoughts like these were streaming through Luka's head while she was sitting in a poorly placed bench. Really though, this bench was placed in the middle of the sidewalk, and was universally hated by everyone who had to walk around it. That was exactly why Luka liked to sit there. It was a haphazard, and so was she.

Luka Megurine was known throughout the city as the Songstress who couldn't sing. Coming from a long line of successful song weavers gave everyone the ability to recognize Luka for what she couldn't do. But that wasn't really why people knew who she was. For one, she always had two very conspicuous looking pistols hanging from her belt, and a pair of steel toed boots that were notorious for kicking irritating people in their most sensitive areas. There was also the fact that she was unmistakably beautiful. All of these things together made Luka the most recognizable person in town.

After an uneventful day filled with loitering, and a couple stolen cups of coffee, Luka was tired. She sighed and started walking back to her house. "But first, I think I need more coffee," she thought to herself. When she got to the coffee shop, she ducked behind some customers walking through the door. Scanning the room, she found an unsuspecting guy with a coffee that was just waiting to be stolen, sitting on a table in the corner of the shop.

"This should be easy."

Now Luka wasn't really a fan of theft, but she forgot her wallet, and really wanted something warm to drink. So she continued to the edge of the room, and skillfully swiped the drink. So caught up in the moment of her small misdemeanor, she didn't even notice the man she stole from. He was wearing a hood and goggles which concealed most of his head and face, but not the small smile that appeared when he noticed a pretty female taking away what he had paid for.

Luka had made it out of the coffee shop without a hitch, and was walking down a lonely looking street back to her family's residence. She had received a few cat calls along the way, and was getting tire of it, so she chucked her coffee at the pervert's face.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?" he yelled.

"Shut up before I shoot you for making me waste my coffee," she replied in a monotone.

Mr. Pervert cowered and did what he was told. He knew who Luka was, and was just playing before; he did not want to make her angrier. Luka stood at the gated entrance of her house, which she thought was needlessly large.

And she was right. Her house, or mansion, belonged to aristocrats, and therefor was covered in redundant embellishments and embroideries. The whole family of Megurines lived there, which even though they were few in numbers, they were internationally renowned song weavers. So in a way, their disappointment in Luka was somewhat understandable. In the beginning her family was ecstatic after hearing the sound of her voice, it was beautiful, almost like that of a goddess. But what made a song weaver special was their ability to communicate and control the sprits around them with their voice. Luka couldn't even handle the most minor level spirit. Because of that, her relationship with her family was somewhat stressed.

"It's not like they hate me," she reasoned. "They just pretend like I don't exist," she chuckled to herself. Over the years, Luka had decided that being a disappointment gave her more freedom.

Luka trudged into the house and up the stairs to her bedroom with heavy feet. She flopped on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

"This is boring," she sighed. With those words she fell asleep.