The somnolent blanket that draped over the houses and driveways of Crypton Street remained unbroken, as it had for hours prior, and lulled the residencies into a languid, indolent state; the day progressing uneventfully and, dare say, rather boringly. School had let out later than typical and with it was brought tired students, who tiredly tread up the gravel paths to open doors, and napped to relief that tiredness. The humidity was suffocating and deep, rumbling clouds obscured the sky, oppressive on the scenic neighbourhood. This weather brought dry, windless air that reeked of mind-aching honeysuckle, an annoyingly hushed intermission, and a sense of a ghost town.
While high school students retreated into the air-conditioned sanctuary of their houses, two lone girls walked side-by-side down a dirt packed road. Their Converse scuffed up dust, that settled seconds later, as glittering fuchsia and teal hair was dulled by the dreary light. Backpacks slung over their shoulders, their feet angled for the street's last house. Luka Megurine and Miku Hatsune conversed heatedly, heedless to the sky's depressive condition. Their voices raised without consideration for the peace, now interrupted, nor shame for a public bicker. Not that there was a soul around to hear, but it was civic courtesies.
They weren't disrespectful girls, perhaps two of the most mannerly youths on the block, but a dispute rose here and there. They were normally very compatible, understanding of one another's problems and compassionate towards any shortcomings. However this wasn't the case. Their teeth grinding, hands clenched tightly around their backpacks' straps, they shot back words of plead and denial. It was an exceptional occasion for an argument, the bickering centralizing one topic: Miku's new boyfriend.
Luka exhaled a weary breath, strawberry glossed lips curled in distaste. "You hardly know Taito, yet you still dove into a relationship! How is that?"
"How am I supposed to know?" Miku said scathingly. "I accepted on impulse! I already said it, God Luka."
Luka scowled.
"'Accepted on impulse,'" she bitterly repeated. "Do you think I'd believe that? You seemed to have been pretty content with his finger stroking your cheek. Is it that you crave more attention? But attention from who? Last you told me, you were fine without having a boyfriend."
"It's not like that!" objected Miku. "It's nothing like that!"
"Then what is it like? Please, Miku, I just want the best for you..."
Miku was silent. Luka cast her eyes across the street and surveyed an ongoing water fight between Lui Hibiki and Yuki Kaai, the two younglings of the street, before Yuki's father signaled them inside. They were soaked and dripping water, though their visages were ones of pure laughter. A transient smile broke on Luka's lips, there one moment and fleeting the next; those were the years where life passed smoothly. They were wrapped in towels and vanished from the yard, the hose sputtering weakly, before Miku's airy words met her ears.
"I can't explain it.."
"You can't?" Luka questioned sorely. "Or you won't? Only you can clarify that.."
Miku repressed a biting comeback with effort. Luka did not understand her predicament, not at all; she was witty on subjects of every kind, she had an aptness for any newly introduced material, and she was indubitably the smartest girl Miku knew. That was why it shocked her to realize Luka was astonishingly moronic when romance was involved. Miku knew she had crushed on a few boys before, Gakupo being her current love interest, but she hadn't any awareness of her having a boyfriend. In the years transitioning from elementary to high school, she had made an oath to preserve her purity for 'The One'; and she apparently stuck to it.
They crept up the pebbled-laid pathway to Miku's house—a rather showy two-story building—pressed the ornate doorbell, and as the whimsical chimes of the doorbell pealed clearly, dropped the subject of dating. Even Luka knew Miku's brother's strict rules; nowhere did it state on there that Miku was to have a boyfriend.
"It's about time you're home. The door's open if you're Miku, but if you're a killer.."
"Why would a killer bother ringing?" Miku asked over the last chime, stepping aside for Luka to enter. Oddly enough, her stomach clenched restlessly at Mikuo's voice. Worry. But worry for what? He wouldn't be discovering she had broken his rules, and even if he did, those rules were to daunt her, to stifle her attempts of going rebellious. Surely they were, since Mikuo wasn't her real father; he couldn't impose them on her. "Sounds irrational to me."
An oval-shaped face popped from the kitchen. Mikuo wore a silly grin, giving an imperceptible shrug. "Maybe it's a stupid killer?"
Snorting, Miku dropped her backpack, kicked off her shoes, and wandered into the living room. The TV aired the weather forecast (What a boring program, she thought) and she absently searched through the channels as Luka politely slipped her heels off as well. She took a seat afterwards and placed her bag beside her feet.
"Seems possible, but unlikely," stated Miku, clicking through the sports section with disinterest, Luka shuffling through her binder. "If I had been a killer, I think you would've been dead by now."
Mikuo walked out and leant on the couch's back, scoffing and directing their attention to him. He pondered a bit longer before ultimately shaking his head. "I've got, like, mad fighting skills. You wouldn't understand the power of a man—"
"Boy."
"—the power of a man. I would easily disarm him, five seconds flat."
"Must I remind you," Miku's thumb froze its rapid pressing. "You can't even kill a cockroach without yelling for me to get it."
Mikuo gave a resigned huff and hastily ducked into the kitchen, again. He was abashed.
"You win this round, sis, but next time..!" Cans clanked and Mikuo grunted as something was dropped into a pan, a promising sizzling arousing her hunger. "And before I forget, you and Luka want anything? I'm making leek soup; for me of course, but I could spare some..maybe."
Miku and Luka shared a look. Luka didn't have a palate for leeks and usually strayed from them, something Miku thought as outrageous, but she could stomach them. On the other hand, leeks were next to essential for the tealette. Her diet consisted solely on leeks. Leek soup, raw leek, leek-flavoured chips, leek pieces on pizza...Miku tapped her chin and smiled wryly.
"That'd be nice, but can you open a can of tuna for Luka instead? She has indigestion problems~"
"Miku!" Luka flushed.
As Mikuo went about his cooking, with exaggerated grunts sounding every so often, Miku resigned to powering off the television. She sat cross legged by Luka and overlooked her own lyric sheets. "Which song did Mr. Hiyama tell us to rehearse?..Luka?"
Luka nibbled lightly on her lower lip. "How can you go about so casually? When Mikuo's right in the kitchen, too."
Miku leant up against the couch and inconspicuously looked towards the kitchen. "I thought we weren't talking about this here," she said in cold indifference. "Please don't do this. Please."
"Maybe you should get your brother's opinion on this. He might be able to talk some sense into—"
Miku clasped Luka's hand firmly, steeled eyes drilling holes into her. "Drop. It."
With some restraint, Luka nodded curtly and they continued on. Mr. Hiyama was their music teacher, and a strict one at that. He knew what his students were capable of, and what they were not capable of, and he pushed them to meet their ambitious goals. Sometimes he was considered more as a slave driver than a musician or suitable teacher, but Miku couldn't complain. Since she had enrolled in his class she could control her voice's stability.
And the class itself wasn't bad. She did get to see her brother leaving it before going in; knowing she took the same courses as her sibling pleased her in a way. It made her feel like they were closer, connected not only through bloodlines, but also music. To know they had more in common than regular siblings was..
What really irked her about the class, was, the loads of paper Mr. Hiyama dumped on them. Daily. They weren't professional singers, and he persisted in believing otherwise. For a basic music class, it was the most fatiguing period of the day.
Not to mention that lately Miku had been picked out to be the music teacher's joke subject of the week. It wasn't her fault her singing had a higher pitch. Neither was it her fault that his glasses cracked at her highest soprano octave.
The duo thumbed through paper after paper, words of harmony slipping from their tongues into canorous songs, and imprinted each note and break into their brains. Their songs faded as Mikuo walked in, rattling dishes of overflowing soup, the broth brimming and splashing with each step, in either hand. He took great care as to not foolishly trip over their backpacks and placed the bowls on the coffee table. Mikuo really acted like the woman of the house, Miku would admit. Better him than her.
Mikuo backtracking to grab his bowl, Luka set her papers down. This was beginning to become a routine happening. She would come to Miku's house, practice with how to correspond their singing, eat the Hatsune's food, and depart in the early evening. Luki didn't miss her, not that he would say—he said he relished in her absence—but lounging around their home gave her an insight on things. Weird things she gave no specific intentness to.
An awfully tense air shrouded the trio. It emanated from Luka and hung over Miku, thick and pressuring. Mikuo spooned soup into his mouth, oblivious to their prolong silence. The girls shot numerous stares aimed to one another; their soup was untouched and growing colder.
"You two are abnormally quiet," Mikuo joked as he lowered his spoon. He checked their somber meins, a flicker of concern sketched onto his features. "Seriously..you guys are really quiet..Something up?"
"School's just been a sore these days," Miku said. "Classes, classes, and oh look, more classes!"
"You should have gotten used to this. I think you're just lazy."
"Hardly."
Mikuo turned to Luka, hesitating as she winced. "You've been unnaturally quite too; what's bugging you?"
"What makes you think something is bothering me?" Luka asked offhandedly.
"You're acting a bit distracted, nervous maybe? I'm assuming it's nothing because Luki didn't bother bringing it up, but know that you don't have to feel anxious here."
Mikuo smiled affably. His words were already taking an effect, he could see. Luka was clenching and unclenching her fingers into her shirt's flimsy cotton material, her blue eyes frantically catching Miku's. There was something going on, his suspicion only growing, and he was going to wrangle it from her. Luka was such a pushover when it came to spilling truths. It wouldn't be very hard to overwhelm her.
Mikuo clucked his tongue. "Luka? What's the matter? What's gotten you so on the edge?" His glazed eyes slid over to Miku dubiously. "Miku? Is there something you're keeping from me?" Living with his sister for almost all his life turned him into a smooth machine. He could pick up any traces of guilt she held.
"No," squeaked Luka. "Nothing, it's nothing. It's only g-girl things!"
God, these girls were so transparent. It was unfair to them, but an advantage to him. The brother of a dishonest diva.
"I know you're keeping some crucial fact from me," Mikuo pursued, idly leaning forwards. His eyelids lowered libidinously, the full power of a look that sent shivers through any girl trained on Luka. It proved to only trigger Miku's gag reflexes. "And I know I can play this game longer than you. Won't you tell Big Brother Mikuo what you're hiding?"
"Since when have you referred to yourself as Big Brother?" Miku scoffed.
Turning a deaf ear, Mikuo diligently held contact with the pinkette. She was on pins and needles, and with his alluring looks, a smile playing on his mouth, smoldering her, she was close. But she couldn't betray Miku like that! What kind of friend would? But he was giving her The Stare, the dreaded stare that left a girl hopelessly under his control. She couldn't withstand The Stare.
"Mikuo!" Miku intervened with a sharp pinch, frustrated at having to sit. And watch. As her brother basically molested her friend with his eyes. "Knock it off! We're not hiding anything! So just leave Luka alone, pervert!"
"Ow," Mikuo inattentively massaged his numb arm. "Who's being a pervert here? I'm asking a straight-forward question, and I intend to get an honest answer. Quit jumping to conclusions!"
Luka braced herself, the remnants of her tomato flush clinging stubbornly. She twiddled her thumbs. She couldn't tell him, she wouldn't tell him, she'd never tell him. Miku's happiness was more important than anything beneficial to her.
If Miku was happy, she shouldn't be one to keep her from it. Supportive and helpful. Secrete and silent. A lookout and friend. She would keep her friend's secrete.
...That was a lie. A straight lie. And she knew it was a lie.
"You're being untruthful. Wouldn't it be so much easier telling me than bottling it up? You're such a smart girl, you know what's right. If telling me is right then you should."
Luka gazed at his shirt like it was the most interesting article of clothing he wore. Confusion and averseness swam in limpid pools; there was the path of honesty, and there was the path of friendship. The difficulty wasn't in picking it, it was commanding herself to go in that direction. One was to protect her friend, while the other was to protect her. But they were defending different sides, which was where the problem lied.
"So?"
Miku warily, tenuously, shook her head.
"Mikuo.." Luka succumbed to her conscience, sitting back submissively. Remorse flowed with her sigh, with her downcast look and tagging confession. "Miku didn't want you to know, but.."
Miku's spoon clanked as it hit her bowl.
"Today, Taito Shion asked her out..and she said..yes."
"Luka!" Miku cried in outrage, her skin flaming. Luka was to keep it secrete! Even Neru, the texting maniac, could keep a better secrete than her!
"I'm sorry, Miku! B-but it's for your own good!"
As Miku and Luka raised their voices in anger and remorse, Mikuo sat still.
So Miku had a boyfriend.
It shouldn't be a big deal. His little sister was growing up, without him, why should he be shielding her from life anymore? She had a boyfriend—there was a boy in her life who wasn't him—she had disobeyed his rules—Miku had a real boyfriend.
He shouldn't care very much. She was nearing sixteen. He shouldn't care. She was a beautiful, growing girl. He really shouldn't care. He wasn't her conjoined twin or the like; he was only her brother. Her family, who should be happy for her. He wasn't anything more.
...But why did that upset him more than it should?