AN: So... let's agree not to talk about my nearly 2-year long absence, 'kay? Well, not like I was really missed much anyway since barely anyone reads my stories (but to those who do, thank you for taking the time to read my stories, I truly appreciate it :)
Haaah, no, this isn't an update to any of the stories I said I'd update like, 2 years ago (and at this point I don't even know if I'm gonna bother with any of those but we shall see). Instead, have a completely new story that I came up with like 2 weeks ago! Different from what I usually write, thought it'd be a fun little venture.
Do I want to make this multi-chaptered? Yes.
Will I actually do it? Knowing me…
Well, I guess I'll just post this and see how it goes.
DISCLAIMER! I do not own, nor am I affiliated with, Vocaloid in any capacity, or any real-life organizations/services/songs that may be mentioned in this fic. Any names of real persons are merely references or coincidences, and I mean no ill intent to any one who may be mentioned, whether intentionally or not, in this fic. Please do not sue me for a story I made for a franchise I love. I have, like, no money to deal with that.
*Not beta read, Mistakes likely to be present.
In a dimly-lit laboratory, the sterile scent of disinfectant permeated the air, the soft hum of high-tech machinery providing a constant backdrop to the conversation. Large monitors displayed streams of complex data, occasionally flickering as new information was being processed. The walls were lined with cabinets filled with mysterious vials and equipment, casting long shadows under the harsh fluorescent lights. A tall figure with sharp features and a calculated demeanour stood by a sleek, metallic table strewn with blueprints and technical schematics. He looked up from his tablet, eyes glinting with a mix of pride and something... deeper.
"The progress on the project is quite impressive," he said, voice low and steady. "Have you seen the latest reports?"
A more petite, but equally intense individual, peered over her glasses at a nearby screen displaying detailed graphs and projections. She nodded slowly, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Yes, I have. The advancements are remarkable, we're finally addressing the fundamental issues from the previous iterations."
The man nodded, "Indeed. The adjustments to the core programming should mitigate the previous behavioural anomalies. The subjects will display more balanced characteristics now."
A large, transparent cylinder in the corner of the room emitted a soft blue glow. Within was a lifeless form suspended in a viscous fluid, electrodes and wires snaking out from the container and connecting it to various monitoring devices.
"And what of the memory integration?" The woman questioned as she glanced at the cylinder, "Any concerns there?"
"So far, the simulations show that the subjects won't retain any disruptive recollections," the man replied, "The new memories overlays seem seamless. They'll believe they've always been this way."
"That's crucial. The integration has to be flawless. Any discrepancies could lead to... unfortunate complications." The woman's eyes scanned the man's figure, noticing the way his fingers that previously drummed rhythmically on the table were now curled, clearly in response to her last couple of words. She watched his eyes travel to a set of charts pinned to the wall, each detailing the psychological profiles of the subjects.
"Yes," he said curtly. "We're also ensuring the emotional responses align with the new parameters. The last thing we need is an unexpected reaction."
"And their interactions?" The woman's gaze shifted to the source of a low whirring sound, a nearby robotic arm adjusting the settings on a console, its movements precise and almost human-like. "Any projected issues with social dynamics?"
"None anticipated," he responded. "They should blend in perfectly, as if nothing has changed, the subjects will be indistinguishable from the originals, in both behaviour and memory."
"Wonderful," she said with a nod and a smile, "This level of precision is what we've been aiming for. Soon, we'll be ready for the final phase."
"Yes, we're almost there," a hint of anticipation was evident in the man's tone, "Once this project is complete, the implications for future endeavours will be... profound."
"The potential here is truly limitless," the woman agreed, "We just need to ensure everything remains under control."
"As such, we'll need to keep a close eye on the next set of tests. We can't afford any mistakes at this stage."
As the pair spoke, the form inside the cylinder twitched ever-so slightly, unnoticed by the scientists engrossed in the discussion of their plans. The room fell silent, the hum of the machines the only witness to their ambitions.
. . . . . .
A young boy opened his eyes, and found himself in a moonlit garden, a place that seemed to exist outside the bounds of time. The garden was a symphony of muted colours and gentle scents. Neatly trimmed hedges formed orderly paths, and meticulously arranged flower beds glowed softly in the silver light of the full moon. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the soothing sounds of crickets chirping and the infrequent wrestling of leaves in the gentle breeze.
As he walked along the cobblestone path, he felt a deep sense of peace and contentment, each step measured and deliberate, reflecting a calm demeanour unlike your typical child, but befitting of this one, who had found solace in the quiet beauty of his surroundings. The garden seemed to wrap around him like a comforting embrace, the carefully tended flowers and serene ambiance providing a sense of tranquility.
Ahead, under the drooping branches of a willow tree, a small wooden table was set. The table was adorned with a delicate lace tablecloth and a vase holding a simple but elegant bouquet of freshly cut freshly cut white carnations. The boy could spot a familiar couple seated at this table, their presence a beacon of warmth and stability. His father, known for his thoughtful and reserved nature, was reading a book, the soft glow of a nearby lantern illuminating his face. His mother, with her nurturing and tender spirit, busied herself arranging another bouquet of flowers with meticulous care.
"Kyouya," the woman's voice broke the soft quiet, carrying a tone of gentle invitation, "Come over here and join us."
The boy, named 'Kyouya', approached the table with a measured gait, feeling a deep-seated calm as he neared. His parents looked at him with affectionate smiles, their eyes reflecting the light of the moon. His father closed the book he had been reading through with a soft thud and set it aside, his attention fully on Kyouya.
"We have something special for you," the man said, his voice steady and reassuring. He reached into his pocket, retrieving a small, ornate box that seemed to shimmer subtly in the moonlight. "Open it, Kyouya."
With careful hands, much more careful than the average child upon receiving a gift, Kyouya took the box, feeling the smooth, cool surface under his fingertips. He began to unwrap it with a deliberate slowness, his childlike curiosity tempered by a practised restraint. Just as he lifted the lid, the once peaceful garden began to shift and warp. The moonlight grew dim and the orderly beauty of the garden turned into a swirling vortex of shadows and chaos. The crickets' song faded into a haunting silence, replaced with a disorienting rush of sound and darkness. The flowers wilted and the hedges twisted and gnarled, the once serene space dissolving into an abstract haze. His parents' faces began blurred and ghostly, their comforting presence lost in the swirling void.
"Kyouya…" A distant, distorted voice echoed through the chaos. His frightened eyes darted around the newly formed jumble of dark, swirling forms, his heart pounding as confusion and fear gripped him.
"Kyouya!"
He shut his eyes, not wishing to witness any more of the dissonance occurring around him.
. . . . . .
"KYOUYA!"
His eyes snapped open, the remnants of his dream dispersing like morning fog. Kyouya was back in his aunt's car, the soft sunlight streaming through the windows casting a warm, inviting glow over the interior. The hum of the engine and the slight vibration of the road beneath the wheels pulled him fully awake, breaking the last threads of the moonlit garden from his mind.
"Kyouya, we're almost there, it's time to wake up!" His aunt said as her eyes glanced towards him as she drove. "You missed all the amazing sights on the way here! I thought you said you were going to stay awake for the ride. You even went to bed earlier than you ever did for your old school..."
"Y-Yeah, sorry I just…" he put a hand over his forehead, "I don't know... When did I even fall asleep?"
"That's what I'd like to know," the woman responded, "I was telling you all about the different landmarks we'd driven past, then next thing I know, I look and you're completely passed out!" She turned to him with a look of concern. "Are you feeling alright, Kyouya? You're not sick, are you?" She reached a hand to feel the boy's neck, checking to see whether it was warm or not.
"N-No," Kyouya slowly replied, slowly trying to gather his bearings. "At least, I don't think I am. I don't feel sick." His forehead felt fine temperature-wise, and so did his neck as he placed a hand over top of it. "I just..." Well, he didn't really know what to say. What was the reason he'd fallen asleep? He could barely recall the events directly prior to him waking up, and for him to take a nap on a car ride is rare, especially on a day as major as his first day of a new school. It was like his brain just... shut down, suddenly. 'But... that dream… It felt so… real. Like I was really with my parents again… but that place… A garden? It somehow felt familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time. Weird…'
As Kyouya stretched his arms as much as he could in the small space of the passenger seat, his aunt spoke, "...Well," she started, moving on from the topic, "Never mind that now, looks like we're finally here!"
Kyouya shifted the gaze of his still-slightly weary eyes towards the view outside the windscreen, and they widened as he took in the sight— his new high school, The Yamaha Academy for Advanced Studies; the central tower, a stunning structure of glass and steel, dominated the skyline, its façade alive with dynamic LED displays showcasing vibrant, shifting images. As the car drove through the main gates, Kyouya noticed the smart glass walkways connecting various domes. As far as he could see, the front courtyard was a blend of natural and technological beauty, with bioengineered trees casting cool shadows and solar panels seamlessly integrated into the landscape. To one side, his eyes caught sight of some dorm buildings.
"Whoa…" was his simple response to it all. He'd seen many pictures and videos of the campus online, but nothing came close to seeing the real thing in person.
"It really is something, isn't it?" Kyouya's aunt smiled. "And you'll be living here for the rest of the school year," she turned to the boy next to her and grinned. "Bet you're glad to finally not have to be under a roof with me, huh?"
Kyouya rolled his eyes and smiled, "Yeah, yeah. I'll miss your famous nikujaga most of all, though."
"Haha, mister, very funny," she playfully snarked. "Just know that my door will not be open if you run home tired of cafeteria food." As the car came to a stop in a parking spot near the front of the main building, Kyouya took a deep breath. The entire campus seemed even more impressive up close. Kyouya's aunt turned off the engine and gave him a reassuring pat on the back. "Alright, let's get you sorted out."
They stepped out of the car, and Kyouya couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. This was a new beginning, a chance to start fresh and make new friends. He thought back to the day he'd gotten that acceptance letter.
. . . . . .
"I'm home!" Kyouya slipped out of his shoes, rested his guitar case against the wall, and tossed his school satchel onto the sofa nearby the door. He walked through the living room looking around the place as the familiar tantalising scent of beef, onions, mirin and simmering potatoes permeated the room.
"In the kitchen!" she shouted.
When Kyouya entered, he was greeted by his smiling aunt as she plated some of the nikujaga she cooked and set it on the kitchen island. He noticed she set the plate down right by his laptop, which he recalled being on his bedroom work-desk before he left the house. He immediately figured what his aunt's reason for bringing it downstairs was, and smirked.
"I see you're eager to hear the news, huh Auntie? You even cooked up a pot of nikujaga just for me," he teased as he sat down in front of his laptop. "You don't make it too often, so it must be for the 'special occasion'."
"It's not 'just for you'," she playfully rolled her eyes. "I happen to really enjoy nikujaga, and felt like making some for dinner today. But, today does also happen to be very big, so it was perfect timing."
Kyouya laughed. The 'special occasion' he'd alluded to was the receiving of an email to see whether or not his application had been approved or not— more specifically, the email he'd get from The Yamaha Academy for Advanced Studies to know if he had been accepted into the school.
You see, Yamaha was unlike any other school in Japan, or anywhere else in the world. It was renowned for its cutting-edge curriculum that integrated advanced technology, innovative teaching methods and a strong emphasis on creativity and critical thinking. It was still a relatively new institution, but those who'd attended had made out to be very successful later in life, not even long after graduating. It was the alma mater of Sakine Meiko and Shion Kaito, two of Japan's most famous singers and two of his biggest idols, especially the latter. Students from all over the country, and even other parts of the world, vied for a spot at Yamaha, so it was incredibly competitive. Kyouya's application process had been grueling— there were rigorous exams, a series of challenging interviews, and a portfolio review that showcased his achievements and talents. Despite this, though, he still poured his heart and soul into the application, knowing the endless doors to opportunities that would open if he got in.
His aunt leaned on the island with her hands cupping her cheeks and her eyes glancing between her nephew and the laptop. "So…"
"So," Kyouya gulped, "Guess I gotta check for the email." He gingerly opened the device and logged onto it. As he prepared to open his email, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to see his aunt with a reassuring smile on her face.
"Kyo, don't worry about it. You did your best and gave it all you could. No matter what happens, I couldn't be more proud of you."
Kyouya looked at her for a moment, before returning her smile and nodding, "Thanks, auntie." He logged into his email as he said, "Let's see if that hard work paid off," his voice steady despite the nervous fluttering in his stomach.
He immediately saw the new message from Yamaha Academy. His heart raced as he clicked on it, the subject line reading, 'Application Status.' The email opened, and for a moment, his vision blurred from the adrenaline rush. He blinked, refocusing on the words in front of him.
'Dear Miyazaki Kyouya,' it began, 'We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into The Yamaha Academy for Advanced Studies. Congratulations on your outstanding achievements. We look forward to welcoming you to our campus.'
Kyouya's breath caught in his throat. He reread the words, his mind struggling to process the enormity of what they meant. "I... I got in," he whispered, almost in disbelief. Then, louder, "I got in!"
His aunt let out a joyous cry and enveloped him in a tight hug. "I knew you could do it! I'm so proud of you, Kyouya!"
They celebrated with some tears and much laughter, savouring the delicious nikujaga as they talked about the future.
. . . . . .
Now, standing on the threshold of this new chapter, Kyouya felt a surge of determination. The memory of that day, his aunt's beaming face, and the taste of the celebratory meal were etched into his heart. It was a reminder of why he was here, and the things he'd already achieved.
"Kyouya! Are you coming?" His aunt's voice brought him back to the present. She was already right before the automatic door, looking back at him with slight excitement.
"Yeah, I'm right behind you," he replied, following her inside.
Ahhhh, yes, ladies and gentlemen, we have a story where Rin nor IA is the main character! And instead, it's a boy?! (Vocaloid fanfics need more male protags–) Yeah, I used Kyo (ZOLA Project) as the main character in this story, if you couldn't already tell (I just named him Kyouya for this fic). When I first had this idea, it was originally going to be Len as the main guy, but I decided to go for a much less used character, especially in fanfics because Kyo is barely anywhere holy heck— Seriously, there's like not even 20 fanfics on this site that feature him greatly, if at all. Justice for my boy Kyo.
Aaanyway, this is pretty much a little intro (I guess?) into the setting of the story. Only characters here are Kyo and his aunt, but we shall meet others quite quite soon, no worries (that is, if I decide not to be a little bitch and actually release the 2nd chapter—)
Also... there is gonna be a romance element to this story (because I am me) at some point, and I plan to pair Kyo with... Well, I wonder how people would feel about Kyo/Yukari... I've kind of gotten more of an interest in her lately, and I don't know, her design's nice and for some reason my brain randomly decided they could maybe be cute together for absolutely no reason at all. Vocaloid ships be like that sometimes. Though, I fear anyone who somehow managed to bother to read this tries to get me crucified for pairing Lady Yukarin with someone who isn't IA. Don't get me wrong, YukaIA is fine, I get why people pair them so much, but... it's just not my cup of tea, to be honest with you. I'm sorryyyyyyyyyyyy T_T
It's especially scary because I don't really see her shipped with guys a lot sooooo that may make this whole thing an even bigger mistake? I don't know?
Oh well, I'll still do it anyway if I really feel like it LOL. Vocaloids have no personalities/opinions/thoughts of their own so I can shape them to my own desire and cannot (should not) be yelled at for it :)
Aaand now I'm rambling.
Uhhh, so... if you want, leave a review? Will anyone even read this? Who knows, it's not Negitoro so maybe not! Aw well, at least I got it out there.
Yeah, that's about it.
'Till next time (whenever that may be)~!
~*:･ﾟ✧