ᴄʜīsᴀɴᴀ。ᴜᴍɪ。。
Summer breezes salty air. A whiff of sunshine crinkles his nose. When the ocean heaves forward, it takes another breath before releasing its waves, and washing away the filth that lies limp over damp sand. This feeling in his chest, oh, how familiar it feels. The Vocaloid clenches a fist before pounding it against his chest. The drum of a hollow build resonates itself with his cavity. He is the true definition of a musical instrument; let him play on as a beating drum rather than play the strings on a harp. He sits on top of slippery rocks, shining ebony, glistening under a hot sun. Cast out to sea looks he, he who is perched so lonesomely out in the waters of a beach in Japan. With just his swimming trunks and a sunhat over his head he looks away to an endless navy blue that stretches beyond the sky's own limit. The water is too cold, he thinks while looking down into his own reflection. He'd hate to swim back to shore, now. What does please him is the fact that the water is clear enough for him to watch strange little fishes swim about underneath the surface. Looking closer, he spots something familiar. Is it turquoise hair? It is long and it slithers, brushing through like snakes underneath the ocean. Len is positive that he has witnessed such a familiar sight, before. He reaches into these gentle waves to grasp it. It is only then that he can confirm his findings! Yes, this is teal hair-- hair that belongs to a human being.
He fishes it out, taking a chance to cross examine his subject. After doing so, he notices that there is more to this trail of cyan hair. He gives it a firm tug to see if there is more than what he has in his hands, intentionally trying to reel more if he can.
