Do you see that girl on her knees scrubbing the floor? The one with the long black silky hair and auburn-colored skin? The one with large eyes and a rounded nose? The one with minute muscles developed from years of housework?

You could probably assume she's not very happy where she is now. Getting her soft hands dirty with an old wet sponge, her shins falling asleep beneath her on the tile floor. Why couldn't her father just buy a stupid mop, she wondered, then again, she would still be the only one to use it.

As always, the radio lazily droned in the back. Whatever stale commercial or heated political debate that spewed out of those speakers never peaked her interest.

Today was different.

"It's a Saturday night

Nothing while go wrong

But if it does, do I care?

I just don't know how to run…"

The girl's ears perked at the sound of the man's voice.

"It's a Saturday night"

She slowed down her scrubbing.

"And I hope you believe"

She hummed to the music, preparing her voice.

"My heart is calling your name."

She parted her lips—

"Don't even think about it, Prim."

She nearly choked on the unspoken words at the interruption. In the doorway was the scrutinizing figure of her elder brother. His eyes bore the same angle that hers did, only they were much more narrow in shape. His dove white skin also contrasted greatly with his jet black hair.

The girl scoffed, "What are you talking about, Taiki?"

"You were about to start singing," said the male as he walked over to the refrigerator, turning off the radio along the way, "You come in here to clean, not to make a joke out of yourself."

At that moment, the second elder brother waltzed in. "Besides that Basshunter guy is gay as hell." He resembled his brother much more than the sister, though he differed from both with his sandy brown hair.

The girl only scowled in silence.

"Tsuna, you seem to describe a lot of men as "gay as hell"," said Taiki, grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

"Only when it's right," laughed the haughty brunette, taking a seat at the table right in front of Primrose. He looked down at her and pointed at the floor "Missed a spot."

Her name was Primrose Aoi. She was just a two month old Malaysian baby when her mother wed the Japanese man, who had two toddlers of his own at home. The five were a decent family until the woman of the house went to a higher place. Primrose was only three years old when it happened. Thankfully, the girl was too young to understand the depth of the situation and was given the time to grow an acceptance to it as she aged. Also, in those three years, the mother had filled her daughter's life with music. Melodies created beautiful imagery in the child's dreams whenever she slept. The world was a giant orchestra to the girl, and the girl, even as a sixteen year old, still seeks to be the conductor.

"Kyouko! Did you get my email of the new Hatsune Miku song?"

"Yes, it was amazing!"

"You guys like Hatsune Miku, too?"


Brianna groaned as she overheard the girls' conversation. She really couldn't stand girls like that. Their obnoxious way of expressing their ridiculous infatuation for the most trivial of things, how their chipper attitudes bordered air-headedness, their smothering femininity. It was every turnoff Brianna could think of. Unfortunately for her, her school consisted mainly of this archetype of girls. If it were just a few girls that were like this amongst an overall diverse student body, Brianna would have no problem with it. But the high concentration of hyper femininity was almost as suffocating as the scent of makeup and perfume filling the hallways.

"Blake!" greeted the red-haired girl as the brunette entered the room.

"Hey Bri," he said, smiling warmly at his girlfriend.

The teacher walked into the class soon after him. "Good morning class, everyone take a seat."

Just as Blake had reached his girlfriend, he had reluctantly left her side to attend his seat at the front of the classroom. As everyone else shifted into their uniformed seats, the teacher was able to take attendance. Halfway through, there was a moment of silence.

"Primrose Aoi," the teacher repeated.

More silence.

"Did any of you all see Primrose today?" asked the teacher.

Before anyone could even answer, the door opened with none other than the girl, herself, entering. However, she waltzed in too confidently and tripped over Blake's bag, to which the class laughed with the exception of a few concerned, "Is she alright?" comments.

Primrose groaned as she got up. "I'm fine," she said, trying to pull a smile. However, it was difficult since she did feel pangs of pain from the impact and the burning humiliation in her cheeks.

Blake shied his face away, feeling slight second-hand embarrassment. Brianna stared with deadpan eyes.

Out of all the girls in the school, she disliked Primrose the most. Although the two have never spoken, Brianna was able to make her own conclusions about the girl. She noted that Primrose held just as overly feminine taste as the other girls, but never actually interacted with them. In fact, she never interacted with anyone unless spoken to, first. And in those few moments when Primrose spoke, Brianna could see her true colors.

"She thinks she's too good to talk to anyone," she thought whenever she saw Primrose, "She could so easily make friends with anyone here with that Barbie doll style, but she puts on this posh attitude instead. So pretentious." However, Brianna wasn't one to make enemies out of nuisances, so she busied herself.

Brianna looked to the teacher explaining the lesson. Math wasn't her best nor favorite subject, but she knew it wasn't wise to not pay attention.

The teacher was interrupted for the second time that morning by a subtle clank sound. The woman frowned. "Miss Aoi, if you can't keep up with your obnoxious technology, then leave it at home."

The class had no initial reaction. No one really felt it was fair how easily annoyed Mrs. Dolan could get. Just having a personal belonging drop to the floor was enough to steer her away from the topic and single out the culprit.

Brianna glanced in Primrose's direction, nonetheless, and was surprised by what she saw it was that made contact with the floor: a pair of butterfly headphones. Even though they were completely white, she could see the edging of the monarch butterfly wings sticking out from the circular speakers.

Her eyes raised up to Primrose, who, for some reason odd to her, looked more shocked than expected. Eventually, Primrose carefully picked up the headphones as Mrs. Dolan continued to talk, and put them away in her bag.

"What was that all about?" thought Brianna. She then shook her head and looked away as a way of telling herself not to get involved in the issue.

It's been an entire twenty-four hours and she still shows no sign of gaining a Musical Identity. I know I must be patient, but she needs to metamorphose soon. It's her destiny. Nothing should prolong destiny, not even herself.

"Hey Prim! Your weird friend is here!"

A bespectacled girl on the porch punched Tsuna in the arm, causing him to flinch.

"Damn, you're too strong for a shorty." He then turned back to the inside of the house. "Prim! What's taking so long?!"

"I'm coming, chill!" said a distant voice.

After another few seconds, footsteps finally drew nearer as the sister arrived at the door, Tsuna giving her a playful push as she stepped outside.

"Hi Kylie," she greeted.

"Hey Prim," the shorter girl returned the greeting, "Did you get my texts?"

"Texts?" repeated Primrose, emphasizing the "s" as she acknowledged she had missed several.

They departed from the porch and continued their conversation.

"Yeah," said Kylie, "About that new artist I found over the weekend."

Primrose felt it was only fair to pull out her cell phone now to read the texts, but brought her hand to an empty pocket. "I forgot my phone..." she murmured, beginning to turn back to her house."

"That's alright," Kylie said, catching the other by her sleeve, "I could show you this guy's website on mine."

Kylie then pulled out her cell phone and opened a webpage. It had a basic black design with the few splashes of color being the blue and yellow words. Most of the webpage was just that, words. Primrose couldn't help but notice the lack of advertisements crowding the page.

"Name's Digital Pirate," said Kylie.

Primrose's eyes continued to scan the page. "That's pretty bold for a music artist to put "pirate" in his name."

"If you think that's bold, wait until you see this," upon saying that, Kylie scrolled to a link and clicked it. It only took seconds for the page to load. Primrose's eyebrows scrunched up upon seeing that page was loaded with a block of text. She subtly glanced over at Kylie to see if she planned on summarizing it all.

She wasn't.

Primrose took steady hold of the phone and noticed the block of text was under the blue title "The Growth of Musical Pollution" The title gave her no inclination and she pressed on to read the rest.

"My name is Dexter Digin, a simple underground music artist, but definitely not the only one. Usually underground artists are forced to go unrecognized because mainstream artists absorb all of the fame and attention. Other times, they choose to avoid fame to keep the media from corrupting them with Musical Pollution. Today's mainstream music is only about sex, parties, drinking and other ridiculous themes. The media's taken away from the deep, meaningful lyrics and actual good qualities music used to have. Nowadays, music artists are only making this trash for the money; Musical Pollution. My goal is to put an end to this and to bring back real music. Hell, even if we have to destroy the music industry altogether, I'll make sure we make this happen. So please help me in my goal to clean the world of Musical Pollution."

Still, Primrose didn't gain an exact bias based on the man's powerful words. She didn't agree with him, yet she also didn't disagree. She just took in the words as they were; one man's view of music. She just hoped Kylie wouldn't ask for her opinion on this speech.

"It's true, isn't it though?" Kylie asked.

A better question, Primrose supposed. "Sure," she shrugged.

Suddenly, she was offered an earbud. Kylie wore the other one with her thumb hovering over a play button.

The two girls sat on the curb, looking out to the lazy neighborhood as the music flowed into their ears. Neither ever enjoyed the feeling of only having one ear experiencing sound, but have gotten used to sharing earbuds to watch videos.

Primrose could feel Kylie bob and bounce to the rhythm of the music and wave her fingers in a piano-playing motion to fit with the beat. It always reminded her of how her mother used to move awkwardly to music in an attempt to dance. As silly as it looked in both females to Primrose, she always enjoyed their ability to freely express the rhythm traveling through their body.

The older girl rustled in her concrete seat in discomfort. The music flowing into her ear was a laid back techno beat with a melody that didn't quite fit into place to her. She kept waiting for the lyrics to kick in only to realize they weren't coming. As always, her mind pieced together an image derived from the music. A brown hue formed. Soon after, a thin blue line and a thin orange line crossed over as if a plaid pattern were about to form. Primrose waited for more imagery to form, at least a person or an object, but that was it.

"It's like he's not even trying," Primrose thought uncomfortably, "His Musical Pollution speech had more zeal than this."

The next song to play was very similar, but it did have vocals. Unfortunately they were even more drawn out and weary. It was almost as if it were for humor instead of actual melody. Nonetheless, she still felt Kylie bobbing beside her.

There were four more songs left.

"Hey Prim," said Kylie "I'm signed into the Digital Pirate club. There's only eight of us—"

Primrose already knew what was coming at that point. There were several reasons in her mind to say yes. One: Kylie was completely enamored by Digital Pirate. Two: Primrose rarely got to see Kylie nowadays. Three: Primrose needed a solid excuse to get out of the house and escape being the maid of the family. What was the one reason to say no? She didn't like Digital Pirate.

That didn't mean Kylie had to know.

"I'll sign up tonight," said Primrose.

Even after all these years, she still wasn't prepared for the tight bear hug later received, nor the ten million thank you's followed by incomprehensible gibberish of joy.

"It's getting dark out. We should get home," Kylie said after regaining herself.

"Okay, see ya," said Primrose as she stood and began to head home.

"Later!" she heard as Kylie did the same.

The sky was turning a cloudless purple color as the sun began to set on the far side of the neighborhood. With all the trees and tall houses, Primrose was more so hidden in the darker shades of the sky.


The girl gasped as a small robotic figure tugged on her ankle. It was a pink Beats Pill, just like those in the commercials that walked and talked. The voice of a black woman with an English accent escaped from the speakers as it spoke.

"I sensed that you were in Musical Distress."

"Rhythm, what are you doing out here?!" the girl whispered, "Someone could see you!" She darted her head in several directions to look for possible witnesses peering through their windows.

"Prim, putting yourself in situations where you're in Musical Distress can drain away your powers," warned Rhythm.

Primrose continued walking. "I thought you said I didn't have powers yet."

"You misunderstood me," said the Pill as it followed her, "You were given these powers, but you don't have the Musical Identity to fully birth them."

Primrose rubbed her head, wondering since when there were so many phrases that started with "musical"

"Well I can't "birth my powers" since you can't tell me how," she said.

"I told you moderators like me can't supply you with that answer," said Rhythm, "Every Vocaloid has their own experience metamorphosing that can't be predetermined. This is up to you to figure out yourself."

"Geez…" Primrose muttered as she approached her house. Once she stopped and looked back, she found the Pill had vanished. "She probably teleported to my room or something. No way this conversation is over."

She continued up to the house and pulled out the house key hooked onto the belt loop of her skirt.

Primrose stepped to a house of the same sounds: monotonous radio, monotonous TV, and obnoxious Tsuna.

She decided to stick to her word while she had the energy left and went downstairs to the office, where the family computer was.

Upon setting herself at the desktop, she heard an, "And just what are you doing?"

Primrose hadn't even seen her father sitting at the desk adjacent to the wall she sat at.

Despite the suspicious tone, she had no reason to feel intimidated. "Joining a music club with Kylie," she answered honestly.

As she opened the internet and searched for the website again, her father asked, "What kind of music club is it?"

"Somewhat of an online fan club of this music artist, Digital Pirate," said Primrose, now looking through the sign up options, "The bulk of everything is done online because it's more efficient, but they meet in real life every now and then to attend concerts."

"So you and Kylie plan on going to these concerts?" asked the father.

"If everyone's okay with it, sure," said Primrose, typing the information needed to create an account.

Her father knew by "everyone", she meant both him and Kylie's parents.

"We'll see," he said.