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Miku’s pregnancy was a well-kept secret.
It had to be. She wasn’t the bright-eyed and innocent sixteen-year-old idol anymore, but that was still all the world could see when it looked at her. As far as anyone was concerned, her eighteenth birthday never happened. She could be flirtatious; she could live forever in the world of playful winks and sly innuendo, but only in the way of a child playing pretend at something they didn’t fully comprehend. Once in a blue moon, the right song would permit her to be sexy, but Hatsune Miku never had sex.
Clearly, that wasn’t true. But then again, truth took a backseat unless it was what people wanted to hear. It rarely was.
Once, when Miku had just signed with Crypton, her name still only a murmur heard around the idol scene instead of the screams of packed stadiums around the world, Meiko had pulled her aside. Crypton's first, a woman who should've been their shining star, relegated to the shoulders Miku would soon stand on.
"You only get one shot," she'd said, the smile on her lips smaller and sadder than Miku could ever imagine being at home on a face belonging to someone with a voice so powerful and a personality to match. "Other young people get to go through life messy. Do dumb shit, make a fool of themselves, then dust themselves off and move on. It's a part of being human. We don't get that. Having a bad day when you get ambushed for an interview? You’re a temperamental bitch that’s hard to work with. Get a little drunk where cameras can find you? You’re a sloppy alcoholic. All it takes is once.”
Miku knew now what Meiko wanted her to understand all those years ago. What the world hungered for and what she only had one chance to give. A girl forever sweet and lovely. A beautiful flower always just in bloom. Playfully flirtatious but eternally single. Offering just enough of herself to satiate the appetite of the world salivating for a taste of the ‘real’ Hatsune Miku, living life on a razor’s edge, but careful to never let slip anything with a bitter taste, anything too human to swallow without remark.
Meiko was the second person Miku told. Hands balled into fists at her sides and eyes fixed on the floor so that she might not see the disappointment she was terrified of finding in those warm brown eyes that had always looked at her with so much pride and hope before.
Meiko would have no right to scold her. They were colleagues. Her popularity had surpassed Meiko’s years ago. Miku wasn’t a child. But when Meiko opened her arms, Miku fell into them and cried like one.
---
The moment Miku got the test results confirmed with the company doctor, it was decided that nobody outside of Crypton could find out. Her image depended on it, and nobody felt like cleaning up a scandal and losing their biggest star at the same time.
Even within the company, only a scant few knew the truth. A couple doctors already trusted with tight-lips, a few of the very highest up who went to work making contingency plans for their contingency plans, and her fellow performers who she could not hope to keep the truth from for long.
The cover-up was originally the Kagamines’ idea. It was already approaching the end of Crypton’s latest worldwide tour with only a few shows left to go, and the realization struck that soon, Miku ran the risk of showing something that careful costuming couldn’t hide. If she finished the tour, business as usual, and then vanished from the public eye? People would speculate the reason why, and they could do the math. So, Rin said (or maybe it was Len, Miku’s memory fogged the details), why not give them something else to talk about?
On the last show of the tour, the set list that had been the same for every performance prior would shift. The last song would be The Disappearance of Hatsune Miku, and with some flare in the special effects, she would vanish at the end of it. No encore, no curtain call, nothing. The rest of the Vocaloids would feed the fire, alluding to some upcoming project: A Year Without Hatsune Miku. Stringing people along with a digital treasure hunt of carefully planted clues, all so they had something to busy themselves with. A colorful distraction from the truth.
Of course, it wasn’t nearly that simple. Coming up with an actual project to release at the end of it all was more work than the twins had made it out to be in their initial pitch, as was meticulously crafting a timeline of intentionally dropped hints and ‘accidental’ leaks, but it worked. Or at least, the others told Miku it worked. She refused to look up any of the news surrounding herself and the other Vocaloids, terrified that she might come across even one person who saw through it all and knew.
So, naturally the others knew. They worked double time to ensure that the secret was kept, all five of them having to make more appearances in her absence, always under pressure to say just the right things to keep up the charade.
But there was something they didn’t know. The father. Miku held her tongue in the face of executives, doctors, and her closest friends, refusing to offer a name or an explanation for her silence. Len quietly suspected it was Kaito. Rin thought it was an illicit cross-company affair with someone like Gakupo. Kaito opted to act like a gentleman and refuse to speculate, at least out loud.
Meiko was the only one to get any response out of Miku on the subject. After sitting her down in private, Meiko had very carefully asked, in the gentle tone she only ever used on the rare occasions she tried to mother the younger girls, if someone had done this to her. Someone she was afraid to speak out against. Miku shook her head and offered a small, reassuring smile before adding “It’s just not my secret to tell” and leaving it at that.
Only two people in the world knew who was responsible for knocking up the Hatsune Miku, one being Miku herself, and neither offered a peep all nine months.
---
Nobody, sans the sworn-to-secrecy medical personnel, was supposed to know when Miku’s labor began, not even the other Vocaloids. Allegedly, for privacy’s sake. Miku was, at least on paper, their coworker before she was their friend. Truth be told, most of them suspected it had more to do with management not trusting any of them to not slip at the finish line. That stress, fear, or excitement wouldn’t loosen their lips just enough to let something out.
So, how was it that Luka was pushing through the hallways at a pace just barely less than a full sprint, blood pounding so hard in her veins that her heart ached and her head throbbed with the adrenaline of it all?
Simple; nobody thought to worry about her.
For as tall as she was, she was quiet, and could go unnoticed in a room if she wasn’t trying to stand out. Not once had she tried prying with any of the executives or doctors, nor participated in her peers’ speculation. She was the perfect professional who nobody had any reason to think was paying such close attention to whispers about sudden changes to the recording schedule, or why Miku hadn’t been seen by any of them that day when she was normally desperate for company after being cut off from the rest of the world.
It helped that Luka knew Miku had been close for days now. All five of them had been told a rough estimate of her due date, but Luka was the one who had kept a mindful eye on it. Luka, who knew when Miku’s fatigue and insomnia increased because she ended up in Luka’s room when she couldn’t sleep, the two of them discussing lyrics for their latest songs until Miku either nodded off or the sun peeked its way over the horizon. Luka, who immediately noted it as odd when Miku suddenly fussed about her surroundings, arranging and rearranging every little thing in her living space, keeping it cleaner than she ever had in the entire time Luka had known her. Luka, who had a good idea of where they’d bring Miku to after meeting up with her following one of her appointments to get lunch together, and took off in that direction the second she realized Miku hadn’t shown up for a joint recording session.
---
“I’m pregnant.”
Miku’s voice wavered, and for a moment, all Luka’s brain could process was just how strange it seemed to hear the same voice that sang with such power shaking so much. Only 158cm tall and such a slight young woman, Miku’s presence on stage was massive enough to eclipse someone twice her size. Her smile alone could light an entire stadium if every LED failed.
It was only after Miku took a sudden sharp inhale, the tell-tale sound of someone biting back tears, that Luka was shocked back into herself enough to focus on what she had actually said.
The only right thing to do seemed to be to hold her, but Luka froze, her hands hovering just above Miku’s shoulders, suddenly afraid to touch her, like to do so would be the thing to break her, somehow. Like Luka would ruin her.
If Miku didn’t notice her hesitation, it was because she was too busy staring at her feet to pay it any mind.
“Oh. I’m...sorry.” Luka finally managed to say, regretting the words after they left her lips for how they hung in the air; shameful, woefully inadequate. Not even a second later, an impact struck her torso— she would’ve forgiven Miku for hitting her, but it wasn’t her fist, it was her whole body. Miku had practically thrown herself into her arms, and Luka’s uncertain hands found purchase against her back, stroking up and down her spine like she could somehow smooth over her trembling like ironing out wrinkles in a dress. “...I’m here for you.”
That was the right thing to say, judging by how Miku burrowed into her even closer and let out a low whine of relief. Another day, Luka might have dared a playful tease about Miku shoving her face into her breasts like that. Today, Luka let it pass without remark. She would every day for the next nine months, if that was what Miku wanted.
There was a faint hint of something clinical in Miku’s scent when Luka pressed her face against the top of her head, trying to get lost in sweet shampoo and perfume. How long had she spent in a doctor’s office today? It was early evening now, had she just found out earlier? Was she already experiencing morning sickness?
Luka bit her lip, feeling her heart twisting itself into knots. She didn’t want to overwhelm Miku, but questions bubbled up inside her, each right after the other. One pushing above the rest, one she swallowed before it could push past her lips.
“...Crypton wants me to get rid of it.” Miku broke the silence, sounding small and muffled against the material of Luka’s shirt. There was an uneasy quality to her voice, a sound like someone pressing one foot onto ice with only a bit of pressure, testing to see if it would crack under the weight.
“What do you want?” Luka schooled her voice into careful neutrality. She could feel Miku pushing for an opinion, to get a sense of what Luka thought to help her make a choice, but Luka didn’t dare. Not with this. It needed to be Miku’s decision.
Miku was quiet, and Luka was content to hold her while the time passed, dragging its feet with every second. Their bodies pressed this close together, Luka could feel Miku’s heart hammering a frantic tempo and knew that she could feel Luka’s keeping pace with it.
“I think… I want to keep it.” That same uncertain tone lingered, but now there was an edge of excitement, almost conspiratorial, like Luka was the first to hear of this little rebellion she had planned.
“...Okay, then that’s what you’ll do.” Luka said, not letting herself dwell too much on what that would really mean. More than anything, it was worth it just to hear Miku’s soft sigh of relief, muscles suddenly relaxing against her and making Luka realize just how tense she had been.
Still, that one little question nagged at her, one Luka selfishly had to know. She leaned back just enough for Miku to get the idea, prompting her to put sufficient distance between them for her to look up and meet Luka’s gaze. Her teal eyes were slightly wet, but not red or puffy, to Luka’s relief.
“And… the father,” Luka spoke slowly, each word feeling as heavy as stones. “You’re… certain?”
Miku’s eyes flashed with anger.
“Of course I’m certain!” She snapped, bristling for just a moment before her expression softened again. “…there’s never been anyone else.”
Luka swallowed hard. Her chest squeezed uncomfortably and her head spun. “…the others will ask. What will you tell them?”
Miku paused, biting her lip and looking away at some point Luka couldn’t see. “…Nothing. I’ll tell them nothing. This baby has no father.”
And that was that.
---
“I understand you’re worried, Megurine-san, but I can’t let coworkers in to see her right now.” The woman blocking Luka’s way forward was polite, but offered no compromise in her tight smile and firmly crossed arms. One of Crypton’s security team, and one who Luka had some sympathy for; she was probably nervous too. As nervous as the rest of the company, at least.
But not quite as nervous as Luka.
“You don’t understand, she isn’t...we’re not just coworkers.” Luka grit out, silently praying to whatever was listening that she could leave it at that.
“I know you two are friends,” Luka exhaled sharply through her nose at that. “But I still can’t let you in, I’m sorry.”
The walls here blocked a lot of sound, but this was no recording studio. If Luka strained her ear, she could hear a high, muffled cry of pain on the other side. A sound that made her heart drop into her stomach and every muscle in her body tense, as if preparing her to run forward and simply shove her way through on instinct alone. The only thing keeping her rooted to the spot was the fear that attempting to brute force her way through would get her thrown out, and that such an ordeal would only stress Miku further.
A confession crawled up her throat and sat on her tongue. The only thing she could think of that might get her in. It suffocated her, strangling her from the inside, like the words expanded to fill her mouth so she couldn’t begin to think about swallowing them back again, but spitting them out seemed equally herculean.
“I have to see her, I promised her I would be there.” Luka’s hands shook, so she grabbed fistfuls of her own skirt to try to hold herself steady before it devolved into full-body trembling, to little avail. “I...I’m—”
“Luka!”
Miku’s voice cut her off before she could finish; powerful enough to be heard from behind closed doors, but noticeably strained.
“Please.” Luka begged, and the woman in front of her faltered, glancing back towards the door. With an uneasy, ‘if anyone asks, you forced me’ sort-of expression, she stepped aside, and Luka barely had the first syllable of ‘thank you’ past her lips before the door was shutting behind her.
Luka was more squeamish than she wanted to admit; a fact that announced itself with how she paled at the scene in front of her. It was only the (relative, of course) calm of the surrounding medical personnel that did something to reassure Luka that amount of blood looked worse than it was.
She pushed her way to the bedside before anyone could question her presence, grabbing Miku’s hand (that had twisted the bed sheets beneath her into knots, white-knuckled and shaking) with both of her own, squeezing softly.
“You came….”
“You called.”
Miku looked up at her with shining eyes, cheeks slick with tears and her hair stuck to her forehead with sweat. Her bottom lip was bitten raw; an old nervous habit that had been trained out of her for her idol debut. Miku confessed to Luka years prior that while she’d lost it alongside her stage fright long ago, she still caught herself doing it when she was really afraid.
“What...kept you...so long?” Miku’s words came in the empty spaces between labored breaths, and the attempt of a smile that pulled at the corners of her mouth looked more grimace than grin.
“Not everyone was so keen on me showing up.” Luka murmured, trying not to wince when Miku’s whole body tensed and she squeezed her hand so hard Luka swore she could feel the bones close to snapping. “How long…?” She trailed off, letting Miku’s wheeze finish the sentence for her.
“It feels like forever.” Miku whined. Some hyperbole, given Luka had seen her the evening prior, but she really did look exhausted, which was no small thing for the font of energy and endurance that was Hatsune Miku.
“I’m sorry.” Luka said, familiar words on her tongue as she leaned down and pressed her forehead to Miku’s apologetically. “I’m here.”
No one could doubt that child was the daughter of Hatsune Miku when she came into the world with a cry like that. Lungs like her mother’s; strong, healthy. Luka was bustled out of the way before she could get more than a glimpse, but she heard that voice and felt her heart give way in an instant, just as it once had for the girl’s mother.
She didn’t fight this time, letting a nurse shepherd her out of the way, watching in stolen glimpses across the room as someone handed Miku a bundle. This was her moment, it wouldn’t do well to crowd her, Luka didn’t have the right. No one had outwardly questioned her presence here yet, but Luka attributed that only to there being much more pressing matters at hand.
“Ah….” Miku’s voice, a sigh tinged with surprise, shook Luka from her thoughts. Miku held the baby (from Luka’s perspective, little more than a lump of a receiving blanket) with a gentle uncertainty, as if still unsure she could trust her own instincts, but too tired to be stiff. “Luka…? Can you...come here, please?”
Wordlessly, Luka obeyed. Miku could’ve asked her to jump out of a window in that tone—soft, pleading, and a little watery; as if on the verge of tears without sadness—and Luka would’ve done it.
“Cat’s out of the bag, I think….” Miku shifted her arms a little, so that Luka, now at her side, could better see the infant. “...This is going to be hard to hide.”
Luka had always thought it funny that people would insist that newborns were cute—wrinkled, flushed, and screaming was hardly the most flattering visage for a human being—but oh, now she understood.
Fussing slightly in Miku’s arms, eyes shut tight against the too-bright lights, was a baby girl with the faintest wisps of hair atop her head. Pink.
Miku was saying something in a hushed tone about how she heard that many infants wouldn’t keep the hair they were born with, and the color could change, and and and—
And Luka adored her.
“...I’m done hiding.” She said slowly, reaching a hand out as if in a dream, brushing some of the stray hairs out of Miku’s face. Looking at her now, the fear that writhed in Luka’s gut like a snake, the secrets that choked her for more than just these last nine months, all seemed so small.
“Are you sure? I can try to think of something—“
Luka cut her off with a kiss to the top of her head, not caring who saw.
“If you’ll have me. I know you said she wouldn’t have a father—“
Now it was Miku’s turn to cut her short, scrunching her nose and knitting her brows in such an utterly Miku sort of expression of disapproval (the kind you would never see marring her perfect persona on stage, but one Luka knew all too well), that it made her heart skip a beat.
“And I meant it. If you passed on your knack for languages, she’ll have no trouble growing up multilingual, so we can debate who gets which version of ‘mom’ later.”
Luka made a sound that could only generously be described as a verbal affirmation (and in fact was more like a delighted sob), pride overfilling in her like water in too small of a cup. Her knees threatened to give out beneath her so she buckled, catching herself against the bed and curling in close with her back to the door, as if to shield the three of them from the rest of the world and everything that would come after they left this room.
After all the work they did hiding things, Luka still didn’t know how long Miku (or really, Crypton) intended to try and keep this secret from the public. Long enough to squeeze everything they could from Miku in her current image, and long enough to try and craft a new one. But even if by extension, Luka’s own secrets were safe from the eyes of the world for a little longer, their friends and costars would know soon enough.
Looking down at her daughter now, Luka wondered how she ever thought she’d be able to pretend otherwise, pink hair or not. She pulled her hand away from where it rested against Miku to hover instead, uncertain, in the air between them, each twitch of her fingers a syllable in the unspoken question: Do I dare? Am I allowed? Am I wanted here?
“...Go on, she won’t bite. Doesn’t even have any teeth yet.” Miku teased, a playful lilt lifting a bit of the breathy exhaustion from her tone, and successfully bringing an embarrassed flush to Luka’s cheeks.
Gently, so tentative her touch was barely there, Luka reached down, brushing her index finger against a tiny palm. Her digit was bigger than the entire hand that proceeded to curl around the tip of her finger, holding on loosely.
“Look...she likes you. She got my good taste.”
Luka thought of how she could say, from everything she had read in preparation, that this was just a reflex (Palmar grasp, instinctual response to stimuli, could be gone in as little as two months time) and didn’t really mean anything on a personal level, but her mouth was too preoccupied with smiling so wide her face hurt. What the rest of the team would think of her, how they would react, none of it mattered.
“Have you decided on a name?”
Miku nodded. Luka had sat with her while she agonized over lists of names, but never saw her actually settle on narrowing anything down to less than ten.
“Sakura.” A pause, followed by a slightly sheepish addition. “I actually made up my mind before I saw her hair...but I had hoped, just a little.”
One day, maybe, Miku would admit that her decision came when the pain had been at its worst, and the only thing that she could focus on to bring her strength was the light pink hair falling like a shower of cherry blossoms around her as Luka murmured words of comfort. But today, she simply craned her head up to meet Luka’s, seeking her lips.
“That’s perfect.” Luka obliged, without hesitation.