"Anything?" I asked, appearing at Miku's shoulder. She flinched, having had all her attention devoted to the files she'd picked out earlier. We were trying to find out as much as we could about Vocaloids, so we could work out Miku's past just as I had promised.

"Nothing." Strictly speaking, currently only she was looking. Despite her protests at being left alone, I had gone for some coffee and had just come back. She seemed to have coped well enough without me, though.

"Really? Nothing worthy of merit?" That wasn't good. We kept running into dead ends no matter where we looked.

Miku pushed her new red-framed glasses a little further up. "Nothing at all." As it turned out, whatever engineers had built Miku hadn't properly calibrated her lenses (that's what she told me, anyway), making her slightly long sighted. To me, it was weird how a human analog like her would have such a basic flaw.

Shaking the thought from my head, I checked my watch. 29th December, 9:41 AM. It had been a full four days since the funeral, but nothing much had actually changed. Well, nothing much with me, anyway. To quote Miku herself, I was still 'grey as a storm cloud.' Miku, however, had changed. After the funeral she had instantly become far more focused, almost to the point of being desperate to learn the truth of her creation. To be honest, I actually kind of missed the old, jubilant pre-funeral Miku.

Glancing up at me, Miku removed her spectacles, placing them on the table. "How was your coffee?"

I nodded, taking a moment to scan over all the files and pieces of paper that Miku had been researching. There was plenty of stuff about Yamaha there, but none about Vocaloid or anything remotely like that. "Yeah, it was good."

"Better than mine?" From her tone, I could tell that Miku already knew the answer.

"Nope." It wouldn't hurt anybody to play along. I had grown used to the way Miku loved to feel like she was on top, like she was the best around. Thought I wouldn't openly admit it, I liked seeing her happy.

Miku glared at the files again, scattered around the desk like a miniature paper bomb had detonated. "Why can't I find anything?"

I shrugged, picking up one of the sheets. "Maybe there isn't anything."

Now she was pouting with her arms crossed. "But I've been released, haven't I? There has to be something… Stupid Yamaha."

The sheet said something about singing voice synthesis, but it seemed to just be some kind of software, in no way related to the kind of hardware that Miku constituted for. I placed it back down and picked up another, hoping to glean even the tiniest scrap of useful information.

No such luck. This was just about the company's internal structure. With a grunt of dissatisfaction, I discarded the sheet onto the table.

Four days. Four days of research had culminated in absolutely nothing of merit. All we had learned was that Miku needed reading glasses. I sighed, slumping into the empty chair beside her.

Drearily, Miku lay her head on my shoulder. "I'm bored."

I started to fiddle with the hem of my coat. "Yeah, me too."

"Thanks for the glasses, by the way," Miku mumbled, poking the aforementioned item.

I frowned. "Haven't you thanked me already?"

She nodded, shuffling around some of the sheets, presumably out of sheer boredom. "Five times, but does that really matter?"

I rolled my neck to a chorus of clicks. "I suppose not." I found myself suppressing a titanic yawn despite the caffeine in my system. Miku was staring at me, a twinge of jealously ghosting across her face. Of all things, she wanted to be able to yawn. It was actually quite pitiable. I ruffled her hair with a sigh. For once, she didn't seem to mind. "We'll get there in the end, I swear."

Silence was Miku's only reply. After a moment, she let out a wordless grumble. "The end doesn't come quick enough."

It took me a moment to fully grasp what she had said. "Don't say things like that." It did not bode well.

The android gave me a confused glance. "Why not?"

"It sounded very…" I paused, trying to find the right word. "Fatalistic."

"I'm an android who doesn't eat, sleep or breathe," Miku replied in monotone, laying her head once more on my shoulder. "And you're expecting me to not be fatalistic?"

She had a point there. "Touché." Actually, when I actually thought about it… There was a fault in her argument. "Hold on, where does mortality come into this?"

"Damn it, John," Miku mumbled, putting her glasses back on. They completely changed how she looked, making her seem a little smarter but also a little cuter. I shook the thought from my head. "I'm a singing android, not a doctor of philosophy." I laughed in spite of our serious topic. Miku elbowed me sharply in the ribs. "Quieten down; this is a library."

Despite my misgivings at being told what to do by a sixteen year old, I knew very well that Miku was entirely correct. This was, after all, a library. It was meant to be relatively quiet. That being said, it didn't stop the elbow to the ribs from hurting. "Yeah, yeah, alright," I sighed, sinking into the chair a little more. It was wooden, possibly real wood too, and was surprisingly comfortable to sit on despite the complete lack of any kind of padding. They just didn't make chairs like these anymore.

It was then I noticed the repercussive trembling coming from my right shoulder, the shoulder that Miku was resting her head on. "Are you cold?"

"No, I'm -"

"You're shivering." I interrupted her. I didn't know if she could go into some kind of hypothermic sleep mode, but I was unwilling to find out.

At this, Miku nodded. "Okay, okay, I'm cold. It's a little chilly in here. I just… I didn't want to worry you."

Of all the things she could have said in that moment, that was perhaps the most touching. I gulped. Miku moved her head from my shoulder as I removed my jacket before handing it to her with gusto. "Here."

"Thanks, John," Miku purred softly. "You're a lifesaver."

The lifesaver of something that wasn't alive in the first place. Charming. I was quick to put the thought out of my mind, but not quick enough. It lingered. I crossed my arms, drawing them close to my body in an attempt to keep warm. "Yeah, yeah, I know." It wasn't working - my mechanical arm only served to make my core cooler. Nevertheless, I kept them crossed, if only because it was comfortable.

For the umpteenth time, Miku put her head on my shoulder. I frowned down at her. That hulking mass of metal could not have been comfortable in the slightest, but Miku seemed to simply not care. Perhaps it was for a different kind of comfort that she lay her head on me?

I reached over to the papers and picked one up at random. It was the one about Singing Voice Synthesis again. Deciding that, at least for the moment, I had nothing better to do I began to read.

"Vocaloid is a type of Singing Voice Synthesis software from the early 21st Century -"

"Wait, what?" Miku and I said simultaneously.

"No you're not?" I asked, confused. Miku was hardware, not software. Besides, she wasn't from earlier this century. I brang the sheet closer, barely able to believe what I was reading. "This computer-based program uses a piano-roll type interface to produce sounds mimicking human singing. Each Vocaloid has a distinctive appearance and its own name, as well as assigned physical characteristics i.e. weight, height. Of particular note is…." I trailed off, my eyes widening. How could this possibly be true?

"I hate it when you do that." Miku whined fervently, eager for me to finish the sentence. "What? What is of particular note?"

I took a deep breath before continuing. "Of particular note is the first Japanese Vocaloid using the Vocaloid 2 engine, and the seventh Vocaloid in production, Hatsune Miku."

Miku's initial reply was merely an empty stare. "What?"

Had she not heard me correctly? "The fir-"

"I heard what you said," Miku snapped, snatching the sheet away for a closer look. "I just… don't… I just don't understand." I saw her eyes darting back and forth, practically blurring with motion, scanning the page for any useful morsel of information she could acquire. "This document is over half a century old. I… How?"

I shrugged. Did she really expect me to have an answer? I knew just as much as she did. Miku muttered something in moonspeak, still glaring at the sheet. She was glaring so threateningly that I was surprised the page didn't spontaneously combust. "I don't know either, Miku. Maybe it's falsified?"

Miku shook her head, giving me a sideways glance. "Nothing looks out-of-place, which either means it's all true or…"

"Or it's all fake." I finished. Which one was it? Despite how I wanted to feel about the confusion information, it seemed only one answer was logical. "Somehow I doubt that somebody would go to this length to fake this many documents," I noted, making a sweeping gesture over the table for emphasis as I spoke. "And when you have eliminated the impossible…"

"So it's true," Miku breathed, barely able to believe the revelation. "But what does that mean for me? I know I'm a Vocaloid, but… software?"

I agreed wholeheartedly - it didn't make any sense. It was plain to me that Miku was not a computer program with a 'piano-roll type interface', whatever that meant. "I've never been one to discount coincidences - but this is no coincidence, that's for sure."

"That's for sure…" Miku echoed. She said something sharply under her breath, and thought I didn't speak a word of Japanese I could tell from the tone that she had swore. At last, she dropped the sheet. "I don't know what to make of this."

I noticed that I had been twiddling my thumbs for the past few minutes, and stuffed my hands in my pockets abruptly. An errant answer struck me, a half-epiphany of sorts. It almost made sense. Almost. "What if you're based on this Vocaloid software?"

"So I'm a copy?"

"No, no," I responded before she could self-deprecate further. "A… A recreation, perhaps. An advanced form of the technology involved. A concerted effort to combine Vocaloid software with a physical body, maybe."

Miku seemed assured by this, but I had an inkling that she was still ill at ease. Abruptly, Miku visibly deflated, her teal hair cascading down her shoulder and onto her lap as she sank down into the comfort of the chair. "A recreation… so, I'm not original."

"No, I…" I trailed off as I realised that she was entirely correct, but I knew I couldn't let her fall into a downward depressive spiral. I was responsible for Miku's well being, if only because there was nobody else. "Look around you."

Miku had started pouting. "Why?"

"Look around, Miku." I commanded sternly. This time, she did as she was told. "Do you see another Miku in here?"

The silence was tangible, like the air itself was bitter with quiescence. Thankfully, after a moment Miku broke the muteness. "No."

"Have you seen another Miku anywhere at all?"

The corner of Miku's mouth twitched upward for an instant. The movement was nigh-imperceptible, but I somehow managed to see the brief smile. "No, I haven't."

I grinned openly. "Exactly. You are the original." I put my arm around her, my hand coming to rest on her far shoulder. "There is only one true Miku Hatsune."

Slanted eyes glanced my way, a tiny spark within their sapphire depths. "You always know what to say."

My smile became a little more sheepish. "No, it's all spur-of-the-moment. I'm just lucky." I cleared my throat, simultaneously pulling Miku a little closer. Instinctively, her head came to rest on my shoulder for the millionth time that day. "Remember this; you are a wonder of modern technology. You are amazing. But, remember this too; you are no mere robot, you're a blurred line. You're a new era. You are a connection. A bridge, spanning the chasm between man and machine. The android who cried."

A single, glistening tear ran down Miku's cheek, almost to emphasise my closing statement. "You give the best speeches."

I shook my head. "I learned from the best, and never reached his level."

"The android who cried…" Miku echoed, apparently completely caught up in her own thoughts.

I ruffled her hair. "And the android who laughed."