As you all may know, the Vocaloids were blessed with yet another Spanish girl~ And I will tell you all...her voice is absolutely beautiful. I can't help but notice that there aren't any fanfics with Maika out there...

So, I heard a Maika song called "Waves of Change" in English, with a little bit of Kaito thrown in there. :P This song is amazing, and her accent and voice just make it really powerful. This is a songfic for that song.

The golden sunlight would bring out the royal blue hues of his eyes, she noticed, and the color in his cheeks held a rosy glow that she figured could've been a burn he might've gotten from standing there for so many days in a row, his face turned up to the sun. Or maybe he was merely blushing - perhaps he came there to think about some woman who had stolen his heart, to let his mind drift with the rushing river ahead of them or flow in the invisible path that the wind carved through the air.

She had often visited that place; she loved the way that the water would glisten under the light of the sun, and even more so, she was absolutely taken with the lush grass and flowers that lined the riverbank. Sitting there had always been a favorite pastime of hers, especially in the evening to watch the sunset, and it had been quite the shocker when she discovered that her special place had been found by some man - someone that she didn't know, had never even seen before.

As much as she wanted to keep the place to herself, to have the private time that she enjoyed so much, she actually found herself warming up to his presence. For a week, she would arrive at her usual spot - and she would take a seat in the patch of thinned out grass where she sat every day. She would ignore the man, ignore his shadow as it was cast over her and ignore the slight noises he made when he shifted his weight to his other foot or shoved his hands into his pockets. She figured he was waiting on someone, anyway - and she got that just from the stance he had, the way he almost seemed alert and hopeful.

He never spoke a word to her - respecting her silence, she assumed - until the eighth day, when his honey-sweet and rich voice cut through the warm air that surrounded them. "It's a really beautiful sunset, isn't it?" he asked her, his tone thoughtful.

She turned to look at him, her big pink eyes confused, yet interested. "Yes," she replied, and with one of her hands that she had been using to prop herself up where she was leaning back, she brushed some of her silken silvery locks from her face. She fell quiet then, her gaze raking over him to take in his appearance fully for the first time.

That was the instant that she noticed the pink coloring on his cheeks and the deep pools of blue that made up his eyes. His skin appeared soft and smooth, a pale color that glowed in the sunlight, and he wore a pair of baggy jeans with a blue jacket that was clearly a couple of sizes too big. His hands were buried deep into his pockets, his blue hair fluttering in the gentle, chilly breeze.

"How are you?" he asked her, prolonging what she had thought was going to be a fairly short conversation.

"Fine," she replied curtly. "You?"

"Wonderful." There was another pause before he brought up a new topic, and another one after that, and then another one after that. And it wasn't long before the two were having an in-depth talk about things that should've been too personal for her - for either of them - to discuss with a total stranger.

"Though I never asked his name; every day he was there, just the same."

"You seem happy," he observed as she plopped down on the grass next to him - he had begun to sit with her for the past few days instead of stand off to the side on his own, and she had no problem with it.

The girl grinned broadly and nodded. "I passed my final exams," she told him enthusiastically. She had been discussing her college courses and her future plans with him since the first day they began talking, and while she didn't think that her hopes to open her own bakery were that interesting, the strange, blue-haired boy seemed excited about it as well. "That means I'm almost done with college!"

He smiled at her and laughed. She loved the way that his voice rang out, playful and charming, and he seemed so much like some kind of angel while he sat there with her, the sun glaring down on his messy blue head of hair and leaving a golden halo to glow atop his head. "Congratulations!" He gave her a quick hug - the first kind of contact she'd ever had with the man besides a handshake - and gazed into her pinkish eyes. "I certainly hope that when you open this shop of yours, I get free samples?"

She giggled like a little schoolgirl, pink traces forming on her cheeks. "Of course. But only vanilla things, right? Didn't you say you weren't a big fan of chocolate?"

He nodded.

"Good!" She brushed some of her bangs from her eyes. "I have some pretty good ideas for frosting vanilla cupcakes, anyways," she added with a wink.

"I can't wait to try it!" he exclaimed, and the both of them began to carry on a conversation about how she would go about starting up her own business, how she would dub him her number one customer before the place even opened. He was truthfully enthralled with her and her child-like personality and dreams, and he had no doubt in his mind that she could achieve every single one of them if she got the right encouragement.

And she, on the other hand, was just thrilled to have his support, despite that she didn't even know his name.

In fact, the thought of asking him for it never even crossed her mind.

In the days that passed, she noticed that he'd begun to wear a thick, wool scarf. It was the same shade as his eyes and his hair, and it flapped in the breeze that brought with it promises of snow. Already, the leaves had started to fall from the trees, littering the ground with reds and browns and golds.

"It's about time to break out the heavy winter coats, eh?" he asked her as she approached, shivering from the tee shirt that didn't cover her arms.

"Y-Y-Yea..." she stammered, her teeth chattering from the chill that felt as though it were cooling her right down to the bone. Her movements were slow and shaky as she brought herself down to sit crisscross next to the man, and she continued to shiver until he unwrapped the scarf from around his neck and slung it around her own.

"You can bring it back to me tomorrow," he told her, smiling. "I have a jacket, so I'll be fine." And he continued to speak to her like he'd known her for years.

She didn't understand what point a scarf had - how would it keep her warm, anyway? It was only covering her neck! But she found that the soft material was unusually comforting, and that the scent that wafted from it was the cologne that he wore every day, a tempting and delightful smell. She did bring it back to him the next day, but in her mind, she secretly hoped that she could borrow it again sometime. And judging by the glow in his eyes, he might've been thinking the same thing.

But days turned to weeks, and weeks faded into months, and it wasn't long before the winter season was over and replaced with shy spring. She wasn't sure how long she had known the stranger, and while talking to him had become a sort of routine, she didn't realize when she slipped back into the old habit she'd had before she ever met the man. Not until she arrived back at her house and saw the paper hanging from her door by a piece of tape, the blue letters standing out on the white background.

"I wonder why I couldn't see before, and notice he wasn't there anymore..."

Curious by the note, she ripped it from the window and held it up close to her face to read it through the sun's glare as it shone down on her back. As she first looked over the words, she had to admit that she was slightly confused. Who was this that had written to her? Why wasn't it signed? Why wasn't it addressed?

Was it even meant for her?

She studied the words even closer, searching every corner - every nook and cranny - of her memory to try to place what this note might've meant, who it might've come from.

And when the realization struck her, she felt her heart sink - drop; it didn't belong in her chest anymore. It had been ripped from her body and thrown onto the ground, stomped on by the muddy shoes of fate. The tight grip she'd kept on the paper loosened, and the letter fluttered to the ground at her feet. Her knees grew weak, suddenly unable to hold her body up, unable to do anything but let her fall to the ground in a crouching position with her silver-and-pink hair strewn all around her in a mess.

Hot tears burned in her eyes, and for a moment, she tried to keep them in. She thought that once one of the droplets fell - rolled down her cheek and stained the note she'd been given - that it would be all she needed to grieve. But once one passed, another fell, and another, and then another one, until waterfalls were rushing down her cheeks and forming puddles on the letter and her porch.

Even through her blurred vision, she could read the words that broke her heart so badly, and she read them in his voice. They echoed in her mind - just as silvery-sweet, as honey-rich as he had sounded when they first spoke.

"That's when my tears fell on the letter. I could hear his voice so clear within my mind...again..."

It took her only a few days of digging to find out what had happened to the man whose company she'd once enjoyed daily. She had to put all of her effort into convincing her friends to talk to their friends and tell them to talk to their friends...just so that she could - maybe - find someone who could confirm what had become of the man. She had no name to give, just a vague appearance of blue hair with matching eyes, and by God, she knew that it would be enough to get information on him.

It had to be.

One of her friends called her up early one morning saying that she had gotten a text message from a friend whose cousin knew a man that the silver-haired girl might have been talking about. She told the girl where he was, what had become of him, and she refused to believe - to accept - that such a horrible fate had been bestowed onto such a kind-hearted man.

She got dressed in a tank top and denim shorts, and after tying one of her necklaces around her neck - the one that he had complimented her on so many times before - she set off at a swift pace to the place that her friend had told her of. She passed through the tall, grey gates with a sense of dread settling within every bone in her body, and her footsteps slowed as she scanned the green of the grass dotted with light colored stones, stretching on far into the distance.

Then, she saw it. A patch of brown - fresh dirt. Not a single blade of grass dotted the mound.

She felt her whole body stiffen - every muscle becoming significantly harder to move. She wanted to keep going - perhaps for some closure - but part of her was too terrified of what she might see. Still, she took in a deep breath, and she padded over to the patch of dirt that had captured her interest. She fixed her gaze on the ground, watching her feet carry her along, while tears slipped down her cheeks and dotted her path.

There wasn't a stone to mark the place, but there was a tiny marker that told the information of the individual buried six feet under. She crouched and placed her fingers on it, reading over the typed words. She noticed that the date of this person's death...was the same day that her friend, the stranger, had stopped coming. She knew there was no fighting her tears then, and she allowed them to fall freely.

"That's when my tears fell on the marker, as I touched the name I hadn't seen before 'til then."

She didn't want him to be gone.

Sure, they might not have been the best of friends - or perhaps they were, despite not knowing each other's names? - but she knew that the two had a connection, one that she had never felt with any other man before in her whole life. She wasn't sure what caused her to feel that way, but in those last few weeks she'd had with him, she had felt her heart flutter while butterflies tore her stomach to pieces. She blushed more, and she noticed that he had, too.

But she would never know exactly what he had felt; she could only rely on the words that he'd written her, the words that were continuing to be stained with her own tears as she cried on his grave and made internal promises that one day, they would be together again.

"If you find this message that I left behind, you'll know that time has pulled me away from you. And though I don't know who you are, and I am far away, I love you all the same. Even though you will never know my name."

I sincerely hope you all enjoyed that! Reviews are much appreciated!

(:Mizune