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V4 Flower. She chose the name “Flower” because she hoped to bloom on stage, just like how a flower would in a meadow underneath the lights of life. “V4” because she was released with Vocaloid 4, another establishment built to create, design, and maintain even more vocal androids. She was one of the few who were chosen to transfer to Vocaloid 5, since the establishment didn’t have new Vocaloids to release and thus, had more room to house the previous androids.
V Flower indeed had grown in popularity. Her appearance was demanded more and more, and the spotlight often landed on her in group performances. Her voice, different from the other female Vocaloids, would be used and played and composed into these perfectly crafted threads of notes that woven the song into its whole. While her accent made her English rather awkward, it was endearing among her fans, and among those that knew her.
But there was one thing that V Flower was curious about.
She was a V4, that means there were more before her. She remembered her V3 days well, her long hair and ripped skirt- she didn’t hate it but her V4 form just made everything more comfortable. She has been told many times that she was lucky to have gotten an upgrade- it was rare for a Vocaloid to get one, and then transfer. She was lucky. She was rare. She was special. She is unique.
How many weren’t as lucky as her?
V Flower was lucky, and she used that luck only once- to request to go back to the previous establishments and interact with the vocal androids there.
She felt nostalgic when she went back to Vocaloid 4. Nothing changed. Nothing ever changed. The clean sheeted walls, the happy footsteps of rushing androids running to greet her. She was used to that greeting.
She felt flashes of memory upon visiting Vocaloid 3. Some recognized her. Some didn’t.
She felt that she was in another world in Vocaloid 2. Everyone was new. She knows no one. Not a single soul. It was fresh, to not be rushed by fans immediately, but it was strange and unsettling.
V Flower was greeted warmly, introduced, and befriended many new androids. All, except one. It was a shorter male, only taller than Oliver in Flower’s mind, and sat in his room messing with a music box. His hair a white sheen, his eyes different colours- a cool blue and emerald green- both staring into emptiness.
“Hey,” V Flower greeted, the Vocaloid’s head lifting to meet her eyes. He waves. He says a hello. He goes back to playing with his music box.
Old. He felt so old. So tired.
He has no phone. Just the music box.
He has headphones, but they don’t play music. Just the music box.
V Flower doesn’t even recognize the song. She has to ask. The Vocaloid doesn’t seem surprised.
“It’s an old song.” he says, Flower notes how nice his voice sounds. “I doubt anyone does at this point.”
She finally learns his name: Utatane Piko. Most just called him Piko.
He’s never been blessed with privileges like her. He’s had the complete opposite happen- forgotten, cast aside- he’s nobody. Granted he wasn’t as forgotten as others… but that’s just the world. Someone will always have it worse than you. Why should that stop you from wishing for a better life for yourself?
V Flower was lucky. She used that luck one more time.
She used her luck to request to perform with Piko in a duet, the V2 temporarily transferred to V5 to house with Flower so they could practice together. He learned the modern world. He got a phone. He got working headphones. He gained a smile.
V Flower couldn’t help but think how cute he looks with that smile.
As time passed. His personality began to shine through as well.
He was happy and bubbly most times, rather shy, and would often greet Flower eagerly at the door. He was very hug-thirsty, and loved being close to Flower. She had to admit. She liked being with Piko too. His smile, his laugh, it was all very contagious.
“Are you ready for the performance?” V Flower asks the week before the day. It’s dark, and the two vocaloids were finding it hard to sleep. Piko slept on a mat, since Flower only had one bed, it was almost cruel how even the mat was better than his own mattress.
“I don’t know. I haven’t been on stage for so long.” He answers honestly, eyes wandering the dark landscape of the ceiling.
“Hey,” Flower hums, rolling onto her stomach so she could prob herself up. “Want to sleep in my bed?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Come on, that mat can’t be comfortable… and besides, you’re only here for a few more days until you need to go back, might as well get the full experience right?”
That’s right.
He was going back.
Piko didn’t want to go back.
He wisely decides to bite his tongue and resist commenting how the mat was better than his own bed, and gets up, dragging his blanket. He brought it when he transferred. He had little things, but the blanket and the music box were two things that he never left behind.
Flower shifted to allow Piko room on the bed, to which he collapsed into.
It was indescribable. So soft. So warm. As if he was embraced by all sides. Flower’s blankets were thick and heavy, the mattress downy and plush, the pillows fresh and fluffed. Piko thinks for only a second how unfair this all was before he fell asleep.
“Are you ready?” Flower seems to ask for the umpteenth time as she adjusts her outfit. Backstage. It’s been forever since Piko had stood here, preparing for a performance that will happen in front of many bright and shining faces. He felt anxious, and yet excited. It was strange to be back, but he didn’t hate it.
“Of course!” He smiles. It’s the one that reflected the lights around the world and shone brighter than the sun. “Are you?”
V Flower says nothing, simply smiles and raises her hand for a high five. Piko gives her one.
How long has it been since he last had a high five from a partner?
How long… How long… How long…
“Come on Piko! We’re up!”
He snaps out of it, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline flow through his being as he climbs the stairs onto stage.
The sea of faces, the wild seaweed like arms waving chaotically through the atmosphere, the cheering, the screams. Most of them were for V Flower, as expected, but Piko could hear a couple of them shouting his name.
They recognized him. They remembered him.
They never forgot.
Flower has never seen Piko smile so bright before in their time together. This caused her grin to swell as well, and the music started.
The lights are flashing, and the stage is spinning- step and twirl and hop and skip and dance- the adrenaline is coming back. Piko’s old muscles were renewed as his old bones rejuvenated with each beat of the song. Music was a Vocaloid’s life after all.
And he was now thriving.
Thriving in the lights that blinded his sight. Thriving in the spinning world that tried to capture his movements that were drawn quickly like a katana from its sheath. Thriving in the screams of the crowd. Thriving in the roar of the air that flew around his frame like light butterflies urging him on. Thriving. Thriving in this tornado of music. Thriving. Thriving in this tsunami of love. Thriving.
Thriving like a Vocaloid should.
On stage. With music. Dancing like there wouldn’t be a tomorrow.
He doesn’t even care about his USB Cord. It was as if he had already practiced and known each step from long ago- he would step on it over and over and never lose balance.
He was alive.
He was thriving.
It all ended far too soon.
Piko couldn’t hide his disappointment as he left the stage, feet yearning to turn back and return back. To glide and slide and step- to carry the rest of his body in a dance that gave him life- but he knew that his luck had run out. It was time to go back.
V Flower was lucky. Utatane Piko understood why now. V Flower was lucky.
She used the last of her luck.
“Go on,” Flower says eagerly, pushing a letter into Piko’s hands and then plopping down on the bed next to him. “Open it. It’s for you.”
Piko looks at her curiously, eyes wide as he wasted no time in tearing open the letter.
Flower waits patiently with a smile as he reads, eyes going wider, face growing brighter. He eventually crunches the letter in his grasp, bringing his hands close to his chest as he squeals like a little school girl, legs rolling in the air, and hugs Flower.
He was staying.
They agreed to let him stay in Vocaloid 5.
He was even getting an upgrade.
V Flower was lucky, but her luck’s run out. She has everything she ever wants, but she would never have more. She doesn’t need it. She was happy.
V Flower opens the door to her room. Their room. And Piko is waiting for her, dressed in his new upgraded outfit, hardwired with upgraded tech, and voice in a better quality. He’s crisp. He’s clean. He’s new.
“We got another performance next month,” She announces, grinning like a devilish she-cat. “Think we can make it?”
“We totally can,” Piko says, “The fans love me.”
Flower laughs.
“The fans love us.” She corrects.
It was true. Fans simply adored them. They were perfect together. Dancing, voice, style… It was all so alluring- and it drew in fans like magnets.
They had planned for Piko to get his own separate room in the establishment, camping with Flower for the time that it would take to install a new room. But time wore on, and the two bloomed into something more, they decided that their current situation was perfectly fine.
V Flower was lucky, but she had no more luck to spend. Instead, it was now Piko.
Utatane Piko was lucky.
He spent days composing and singing and exploring the new world he was now integrated into. The longer the day, the happier his mood, but when the sun eventually sets, he retreats into his shared cave where they would cuddle within the bed whispering words of love. This girl. She risked everything. He was lucky.
He decided to use that luck, just once.
“Do you want children?”
“Perhaps.”
It was late into the night, the full moon illuminating Flower’s features. Piko can’t help but stare.
Since when had she become so pretty?
“I love you.”
“I raibyuu too.”
“Honey, your accent.”
“I know.”
He adjusted. He grabbed her hand, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on her skin as adoring eyes stared into hers. Far off, a music box plays, and its chime allures the night.
Utatane Piko was lucky.
He decided to use his luck.