Okay, here's the low-down

~Write a story about~

-a confession (romantic, non-romantic, whatever. Some sort of confession.)

-and / or

- blood. It must have blood in it.

So I wrote this. Yes, it's my lame excuse to introduce Katsuo, another fanmade that I actually approve of/fancy. Might want get use to him 'cause he and Alpha will appear again! :D

Katsuo Koniro was never really a popular member of the Vocaloid team. More or less, he was thrown into the "Rainbow Vocaloid" group, but it didn't bother him. Actually, a lot of things didn't bother him, and that many people off. He was labeled as "emotionless" from his lack of response. There was a certain Vocaloid who gave him his first taste of actual feeling, though.

Thumbing through his mp3 player, Katsuo walked through the Vocaloid Productions building on his break. There wasn't great new jazz song to sing, so he had a lot of time. Wasn't that ironic, though? The one without visible emotions specialized in singing something like jazz.

His sapphire blue eyes looked up from the device in his hand when a full length mirror in the hallway caught his eye. It was probably put there by Gakupo's special order; the narcissist. Katsuo looked up and down the mirror, taking note of his own appearance: a dark blue, almost black color dominated his clothes. He wore plain pants, a sleeveless coat with a high collar and what looked like suspenders hanging from the bottom edge. A forest green shirt could be seen underneath his coat, but that was only because it wasn't zippered up all the way; he was comfortable. His short, royal blue hair that was always brushed forwards was kept in shape by his headset, also dominated by the dark blue/black color. His eyes finally rested on the number tattooed to his arm; would they ever give him an official number? Currently it was still decided what number he was, but the higher-ups were getting close to a decision. Or least they had better since a "0" had already been etched into his arm. The other half of the number was still missing, though.

"Luka, I really need your help," a sweet voice said from around the corner, breaking Katsuo's stare at the mirror. He put his mp3 player into the left pocket on his coat and then continued to listen. Eavesdropping: an unexpected, but still bad habit of his.

"What is it?" the pink haired girl asked.

"It's just, I seem to have this problem," the first girl said, stalling. He couldn't seem to place a finger on her voice; just who was it?

"C'mon Prima, spit it out," Luka laughed. Prima? Katsuo had never formally met the girl, but he had heard some strange... rumors about her.

"I don't know why, but whenever I see a Vocaloid, a fanmade one, I mean," she started, referring to "fanmade" as any member of the Vocaloid committee who existed in the music industry only because of their fans and didn't have the approval of the higher ups--Katsuo fell into this category-- "I just have this uncontrollable urge."

"An urge? To what, sing?" Luka joked at Prima, obviously in good spirits.

"In a way. It's really to make them sing," she started. That was it? "Or scream, to be more precise."

Oh. Katsuo felt his blood run cold. She was just kidding, right?

"I just love the idea of sliding metal through-" Katsuo didn't listen to Prima's confession anymore--disturbed from the topic and the elation running through her voice--and he ran away through the maze of hallways in the company.

And that was the first time Katsuo felt pure and utter terror.