A/N: Although there is a small amount of Vocaloid fanfics around I will still continue this until anything happens like problems or I just don't have the muse to write. ^^ So enjoy~

Chapter 1: Blue

When a person asks you, "What is the color of the sky," you usually answer with, "blue." However, when someone asks you, "What shade of blue?" There is usually never a certain reply, nor is there a right answer to that question.

"Light blue."

"Periwinkle."

"Navy."

"Sapphire."

These are all both correct and incorrect.

"Azure."

"Cobalt."

"Indigo."

"Robin's egg blue."

So are these answers.

One normally will take one or two glances at the sky for reference, and might alter his or her response as the day goes by. The morning may be a soft pale blue as the afternoon could be the stronger, darker shade navy. I, however stick to one answer, day or night, dawn or dusk. If a pedestrian off the street decided to approach me with the seemingly obvious question of, "What color is the sky," I would always respond with, "Cerulean," along with shooting that person a look of bewilderment as to why he or she would ask me that.

Do they not have the brain to look up for even just a split second rather than wasting my time with such a simple question? All the citizens around here have places to go and maybe even a tight schedule to follow, so why bother me out of all people and ask me a question that even they, themselves, probably have answered one or two times in their entire life? Maybe he or she even thought that doing so was a waste of time as well, so why inconvenience others with the same question that interrupted his or her run to the coffee shop down the street?

If this did not occur to them, then what had occupied their mind to an extent that they did not think of others first? Was it the fact that he or she asked me at sunset this question, the expected answer supposedly along the lines of, "A beautiful mixture with shades of pinks, oranges, yellows and purples," and yet I still replied, "Cerulean"? Well that's your fault. The only reason I do this was because the color not only reminded me of my own eye color, but yours.

When we were in our preteens, you would not only ask me this question constantly, but would prod with an annoying, "Why?" As in, "Why in the world, on a stormy day, would you call those grey clouds cerulean?"

Whenever you would say that to me, I'd bring in the technicalities of science and respond with something along the lines of, "Technically, the sky is every color but blue due to all the light waves being absorbed except blue. Plus, the clouds aren't part of the sky, so it isn't grey."

You, being the type that would not pay much attention to the academic category of science in the third year of middle school, could not understand half of what I was saying and would always prod for the real reason. Being the young tsundere I was, I'd never tell you my true intention and would end the conversation with "go away," or "you're such a bother."

Later realizing the cruel meaning of my words would hit deeper than I'd think, I'd make a promise to apologize the next day. Irritatingly so, by the time I would muster up enough courage to approach you during your club activities, the cycle would repeat, and as we graduated middle school I could confidently rush up and explain in detail that I was more enraged with myself rather than your constant interruptions in my fast-paced life.

However, it was a stupid mistake for me to think that because we attended the same schools since the elementary grades with no stupid disturbances like trees crashing into our homes, you'd apply for the same high school as me. Three years passed without my mind occupied trying to find explicit and complicated ways to explain why the sky is blue on a regular basis, and I watched as my scores surpassed the small margin that led me to get perfect grades. I maintained that score and more than just my colleagues acknowledged my great academic skill and yet I ignored their copious amounts of praise and focused more on the good and great colleges.

I never attended clubs since I find that as fun as they are, I have more beneficial things to do like study for mock exams and more importantly, real exams and tests. Nevertheless, I was occupied my committees and extracurricular activities like the sports festival, which went smoother than I thought. Since then, I've had my share of friendly and not so friendly acquaintances as well as drama that, honestly, was not even mine. Many of my announced "friends" had been astonished when I told them I was still a in kissing, and they even tried to hook me up with another associate. He, who was too much of a stranger to me that the moment the subject came up along with idea of stealing my lip's purity, my mind had immediately rejected it.

Now preparing to become freshman in college, I'm involved in many non-school related activities and is even arranging for a part-time job in a café as a waitress. My height increased greatly while my figure became more pleasing to the eye and was complete with soft, feminine curves and s now fashionably small. To be specific, I was a B cup compared to the double A chest I sported in middle school. Even if people considered me as a "busy" student, I'd take time to exercise often on short, yet highly active jogs around the town and unlike the stereotypical college student; I only snack on instant ramen at regular and steady intervals. Twice a month at most is the best option than having none.

After weeks with a schedule that was so consistent that it grew into more of a habit rather than a schedule, the soft pink petals of the favored cherry tree commenced to blossom. The vast number of trees sprouted buds deliberately bloomed, the small petals dusting the tops of roofs and scattering across the roads and people began to watch the trees a bit early that year. My agenda adjusted with not just the social media involving the Hanami festival, but the school notified me that I was to be ready by the next week, yet with my consistent plans, I skipped out on finding supplies. Though it seemed that not only I had forgotten, but also the crowds suspended on the crosswalks of Japan grew busy with students, and more people began to emerge from their homes, causing a few unpopular stores to begin forming lines outside the shop. I, too, went from a calm trot around town to flailing around in panic looking for specific books and walking around the streets looking for sales on ingredients for some of my favorite treats to place into my bento.

The market was not as stuffy as I had imagined, however it was more crowded than what' I'd have liked. Shuffling along the refrigerated herbs and moist vegetables, I browsed among the bustling people while carefully placing items into the plastic basket I held at my side, afraid that the commotion around me would cause the fragile foods to spill and break. Tucking a blonde lock behind my ear, I began to examine the crate of apples carefully inspecting then just so there's be absolutely no bruises. Satisfied, I'd strut to the roll of plastic bags taking a firm hold of the top, unraveling the thin, transparent bags, and quickly tearing the end from the cylinder. The dotted lines that ensured a clean separation stretched for a swift second and shortly made a noisy rip that the other busy citizens in the market easily ignored.

While finding the opening for the bag, I gazed around, finding a few more greens I enjoyed to consume, and decided to buy a couple. A few minutes later and alongside the apples were three fuzzy and most importantly, unscathed peaches. I began to think about my dinner, first realizing that it should be a quick, easy dish. The first thing that came to my mind was a hot pot. Sukiyaki seemed nice, so why not give it a go? It'd be quick, easy, and simple enough that I could buy all the ingredients at the market. It was the seemingly perfect dish for these days where I need to make something speedily.

I sped up my pace, searching aisle after aisle for the specific ingredients and managed to get a majority of them before the sun went down. Seeing my filled basket full of not just the factors for the dish I intended to make but a handful of colorful fruits, one would think that I'd be heading towards the registers to buy them all at a relatively low price. However, now inspecting my bin for any forgotten ingredients I realized that I forgot to toss in the leeks. I quickly bounded back to the mounds of raw goods, the market now tastefully free of disruptions alongside peaceful shopping. There was an occasional tear and fluff of the plastic bags and the rattle of metal carts but nothing hoarse enough to unnerve the average person. Walking up to the crate of damp leeks, I ran into an old friend of mine. Naturally, I was not surprised to find her in this specific place.

At one point in middle school, my teal-haired companion had accumulated an obsession with leeks, and as I thought, she never grew tired of the taste. Old habits die hard, and spending great amounts of my spare time with her, I know that this saying is quite accurate especially with this young lady.

We stood there at the base of the crate of leeks and began to reminisce about middle school. After sharing a few high school stories, both of us seemed to have the same question in mind: For what college did you apply? Neither of us was in any way astonished that we were attending the same university as we seemingly lived in a relatively same area in Tokyo. At most, our houses were only a ten-minute drive apart, not counting any signs of traffic. When we were a bit younger our homes were about a short five-minute walk away, that is, until during a terrible storm did away with the upper level of her house thus, causing her to move. Now that we're practically adults, we moved away from our small houses and into roomier apartments. However, this did not seize my attention; it was what she had explained to me next that made me lean slightly towards her to distinguish and ensure that the words she was saying were correct.

"Len's coming."

To my surprise, I froze, not knowing whether to be jumping around in excitement or thrashing around in fury. Instead, I stood there; unmoving, facial features twitching yet locked into forming a blank look. Forcing myself to groan a nonchalant, "Oh," I grasped a large, slender leek and placed into another plastic bag. Thanking my good friend for a nice chat and ending our conversation with a, "I hope to see you again soon," I turned towards the registers and went on my merry way.

My apartment was not far from the market or the university; it actually seemed like the people of Tokyo deliberately placed the building there specifically for college students who needed this handicap of easy access. This made life much easier for people like me, and strolling down the sidewalk, I realized so. Thank you, people of Tokyo. Walking up the stairs of the apartments, I checked the plastic tablets indicating the floors. Third… Fourth…Fifth…Sixth. After hiking towards the sixth floor, I skipped off the stairs creaking dangerously and quietly walked past the first of the rooms. Dodging the small dip in the flooring and fortunately finding the door to my room closed, I took my time to unlock the door, mumbling a small, "I'm home," out of habit given that my small apartment was normally empty.

I took out the bought goods and organized the objects in a few minutes leaving me with enough spare time to watch television while cooking. As the foul scent of leeks spilled and wafted in the kitchen, the nostalgic smell brought my wandering mind towards the auspicious conversation I had with my old classmate. Her ill-timed words forced me to think of you and how you had those annoying jabs that easily pierced my thick unsocial barrier. You were the reason why I grew to become a bit more of an extrovert, and you were the reason why I grew to love the color, "Cerulean."

I shut down the stove while plating a small amount the sukiyaki into a small bowl, leaving the rest in the large pot, and left for the couch to eat. Taking the TV remote, I aimlessly scrolled through the channels as I ate, each casting a different shadow among the pale white walls. Nothing was entertaining enough to stop at, so I gave up, finding that simple enjoyment from consumption was far more exquisite and interesting than a cluster of dramatic reality shows. By the time I was refined from eating, the clock seem to tell me that it was very close to midnight and so, with nothing else to do besides more work, I decided to sleep early.

Sleep was a peaceful occasion, yet nowadays dreams had absolutely no significance. Deep, dark swirls occupied my mind when I slept, splashes of color came sparingly yet no actual images came to mind. However, with words striking the iron deep inside my heart, my dream was more like the dialogue of a past wish rather than a vivid dream.

"Rin? What is it? Are you all right? You look a little red…"

"…"

"C'mon, I'm taking you to the nurse."

"…No."

"Huh? Rin, are you sure? You don't look so well…"

"I'm fine. It's just that…I'm…"

"Hm? Oh yeah, hey Rin, what's the color of the sky?"

"…"

"Hey! I asked you a question!"

"Cerulean."

"Hm? But today the clouds are covering the sky, so it's be grey, right?"

"Cerulean."

"And why?"

"…"

"Why?"

"Because…"

"…?"

"Your eyes…they're really pretty. The color cerulean…reminds me of you..."

"…"

"Len…I like you."

If only things were that perfect.