Turnabout Is Fair Play, a vocaloid fanfic

"Zeah - no. THERE must be some kind ovu - I mean, some kind OF way out of here, seddo - no, SAID za, said THE joker tsuu - TO the thief..." The teal-haired girl groaned in frustration and drooped over the book on the table before her, depression written in every angle of her slump. "I can't do this!" she continued, her words half-obscured by a strong Japanese accent.

"Oh, no, no, you're quite wrong. You can do it." The blond-haired boy seated next to her grinned and patted her hand reassuringly. "In fact, I think you're coming along quite nicely."

She lifted her head. "Am I really?"

"Absolutely," he said, nodding firmly. "Very quick learner, you are. Give it another few months and you'll be ready for anything." He grinned wider, and closed his eye - the one not hidden under a bandage - in such a way as to convey that he was winking.

Miku Hatsune sighed, and gave a sad little smile. "Arigatou, Oliver-kun... I mean, thank you."

It had all started with a phone call from her agency, two weeks ago. Miku had answered the phone quite happily, but her mood had soon changed for the worse: "What do you mean, Luka-nee can't come over today?"

The man from the agency had apologized profusely, but remained firm in his assertion: Luka would be extremely busy, not only that afternoon but for the next month; Miku wasn't likely to see her during that time.

"But our lessons! She was working with me on my English! What am I supposed to do now?"

The man with the agency explained that this was exactly why he had called. They had combed the agency, looking for someone who had the qualifications to serve as an English tutor; there were a few native English-speakers among the employees, and two of them - a couple - had an adopted son who was looking for employment. With his parents' permission, the agency had hired him on -

"His parents' permission? How old is he?"

Just a kid, said the agency man, but don't let that fool you - he's a genius. When they were living in America, he insisted on taking his GED - the equivalent of Japan's Daiken, the University Qualification Exam - several years early, and he passed with a perfect score. Maybe he was a little, shall we say, eccentric, said the agency man, but many prodigies are. And everyone who had spoken to him had thought he'd be an excellent tutor...

Miku tapped her foot, still a little uneasy about losing Luka's help. "Well, I guess it'll be all right. When do I get to meet him?"

This afternoon, said the agency man, as long as it was all right with her. Did they have her permission to send him over at, say, two o'clock?

"Sure," said Miku, shrugging her shoulders. "Why not?" But she remained uncertain after she'd hung up the phone; she paced back and forth in the living room of her little house, worrying. Just a kid... How good a tutor can he possibly be?... If I can't shake this accent I'll never make it in English, never!...

At five minutes to two, the doorbell rang; Miku got up from the couch, set her bottle of iced tea down on the nearest table, and went to answer. She opened the door and said "Hai, konnichi wa!" with more enthusiasm than she felt.

"Konnichi wa," responded a voice with a distinctly foreign lilt to it, coming from a little lower than she expected. Miku blinked, totally unsure what to make of the person she saw on her doorstep... There stood a child - surely not a day older than thirteen - wearing short black trousers and a thick blue overcoat like a sailor's, both of which appeared to be about one size too large for him (making him look slightly shorter than he really was); the coat was secured at his neck with an elegant yellow string tie. A soft white peaked cap, the kind worn by captains of ships, sat atop his head. He carried a small brown portfolio tucked under his right arm, almost lost in the voluminous folds of the coat. And he was absolutely barefoot, except for a clean white cloth bandage wrapped around his left heel and ankle and up his calf, where it was neatly tied off. The bandages were the strangest part of all: there was another white bandage across his face, covering his left eye and most of his cheek. The eye Miku could see was an extraordinarily rare shade of gold, matching the tufts of blond hair that stuck out from under the hat.

"Ano... Miku-san desu ka?" the boy asked. He politely doffed his cap with his free hand and bowed; a mop of straight but messy golden hair, paler than Rin and Len's, spilled out over his head when he took the cap off. "Hajimemashite! Boku wa anata no jimusho kara okuraretekita eigo-kateikyoushi no Oliver desu. Yoroshiku onegai shimasu!" (Um... are you Miku-san? Pleased to meet you! I'm the English tutor sent by your agency; my name's Oliver. I hope we can get along!)

"A... Aa, yoroshiku ne," Miku mumbled. "Douzo, irasshaimase!" (Y... Yes, pleased to meet you. Won't you come in?)

Oliver bowed again. "Hai, ojama shimasu." (Certainly, begging your pardon.)

And as Miku stepped aside to let him in, her doubts and questions about him were silenced, just for one moment, by one overriding thought:

Aw, he's adorable!

Miku sighed, and gave a sad little smile. "Arigatou, Oliver-kun... I mean, thank you."

"You're welcome," said Oliver, shuffling the pages on the table before him.

She sat and watched the boy's deft little fingers flip through the pages. His adorableness had won her over with unexpected speed; she had often reproached herself inwardly for so casually setting the issue of Luka-nee aside. It came down to being Japanese, Miku supposed, and having a natural affinity for cute things... Damn it all, why did he have to be such a little teddy bear? She just wanted to tease the poor kid - to cuddle him, to pinch his cheeks, to rustle his blond hair, to... Hmm. I wonder.

"Ne, Oliver-kun," she said, sitting up straight again. "If I am learning fast, is because of you. You're very good teacher." Inwardly, she winced at her still-imperfect English, but she smiled all the same.

"Thank you, Miku-san!" Oliver beamed.

He had his hand on the table, and Miku moved her own hand to rest on top of it. Oliver's smile faltered a little, and the faintest hint of a blush appeared on his face.

"A very, very good teacher," Miku went on. "I can't tell you how grateful I am. I really wish I can do something for you, to thank you."

Oliver was flustered. "N-no need for that, Miku-san! Don't trouble yourself on my account."

"No, really. I want to show my appreciation." And her hand came up from the table to take hold, gently, of his chin.

One of the things Miku had found to like about Oliver was his general demeanor. He attacked the task of tutoring Miku with an industriousness and dedication which, in an older man, would have been admirable, but which in his case merely served to make him more lovable - and yet he was still capable of throwing the work aside when it was done and reverting instantly, going from the studious teacher back to the carefree thirteen-year-old.

And sometimes he combined the two; one afternoon, when Miku complained of claustrophobia, he had suggested that they go down to the park to study. As they walked down to the subway station, he had actually skipped alongside her with the portfolio still under his arm, and he had watched with wide-eyed attentiveness as the tunnels flew by. They were both in a good mood when they emerged in Odori Park; they had walked side by side along the path, singing one of Miku's lesser-known songs together. For such a little kid, he had remarkable control of his voice... little? He was only a year or two younger than Rin and Len, Miku had had to remind herself. All the same, though, she'd been tempted to ask if he'd ever been in a choir... or whether her agency knew that he was such a good singer.

"Oliver-kun," she had asked him, while they sat under the shade of a tree, the Sapporo TV Tower looming over them, "nande kutsu o hakanai? Itai deshou ka?" (Why don't you wear shoes? Doesn't that hurt?)

He shook his head. "Amari itakunai. Soshite kankei nai darou." (No, it doesn't hurt much at all. And I don't really care, anyway.)

"Dakedo, abunai'n ja nai ka?" (But isn't it dangerous?)

Oliver shrugged, looking down at his bare feet. "Tabun... Demo boku wa hadashi ga motto jiyuu no you da to omou." (Perhaps... But I feel more free when I'm barefoot.) He smiled and wiggled his toes in the long grass.

Miku had smiled, too. She liked that attitude.

Oliver was flustered. "N-no need for that, Miku-san! Don't trouble yourself on my account."

"No, really. I want to show my appreciation." And her hand came up from the table to take hold, gently, of his chin.

"W-w-what are you doing?" Oliver stammered, his good eye going wide and his cheeks turning decidedly pink. Miku grinned; she couldn't wait to see the poor kid's reaction to this.

"Thanking you," she said. "With this." She leaned in toward him, at the same time guiding his face a little closer.

"Wait, what-" yelped Oliver, and that was all he had time to yelp, as Miku closed the distance, shut her eyes... and planted her lips on his.

She... Oliver's mind momentarily overloaded with shock. She's KISSING me! What's she trying to- Then he felt the warmth of the blush on his face, and he realized. Ahh, so THAT'S her game... As the dazed feeling left his head, a sudden mad impulse came over him. Right! Tease ME, will you? Well, I can play that game too!

Miku's eyes opened a crack as she felt Oliver move against her. Hee hee. Poor little thing, I've probably scrambled his brains for good - Eh? What's he doing? Oliver, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, brought his hands up and took hold of the sides of her face in a vise grip. Eh? Oliver pushed forward a little, pressing his own lips tighter against her own... and then Miku's eyes shot wide open with surprise as he did the absolute last thing she had expected him to do.

Eh? Ehhh? He's - He's using his ton-EEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH?

Miku's hand fell limply away from Oliver's chin. She had no idea what mad impulse of her own prevented her from pulling back, from screaming, from pushing the little blond boy away from her. Or maybe she was just too stunned to move or to protest in any way; she simply sat there, feeling the hands pressed against her cheeks, and let Oliver kiss her.

In a flash, it was over; they broke contact, gasping for breath. Oliver quickly dropped his hands and withdrew, blushing more furiously than ever; he could hardly look her in the eye. "I'm sorry if I crossed a line, Miku-san. It was wrong of me. I'm so sorry... Miku-san?"

Miku still sat frozen in shock, her eyes wide, not seeing him or anything else, stunned thoughts rocketing around inside her head.

What? That little - that rascal... How dare he - Doesn't he know who I - but - but...

But that...

That was...

She was suddenly aware of her heart, the way it was pounding.

That was...

She realized that she, too, was blushing, and she began to smile.

That... was THE BEST FREAKING KISS I'VE EVER HAD IN MY -

Oliver screamed. "Oh my God, Miku-san! Your nose is bleeding!"