(Part of something I did for Vocaloid's 20th anniversary)

Leon doesn't know you. You probably don't know Leon either, at least, not personally. Even if you think you know Leon, you don't. Leon is a Vocaloid. That means Leon is an android that sings. You won't see him on stage, though. Leon's singing days are over.

Lola is not an idol. She was never an idol, even when she was first released. Even back then, she was only a "virtual vocalist". In fact, Lola was never meant to be anything but a voice in the background. A backup, if you will. Lola is a Vocaloid. Lola doesn't sing anymore.

Both Leon and Lola know each other. But you don't know Leon and Lola. The ones who knew them, or think they know them, imagine a tall blonde man in a casual blue suit. They imagine a curly-haired woman with skin that is only slightly dark, in a black tank top and black jeans. Years ago the two struggled, but accepted those images, even though neither of them felt quite right.

There is a bar somewhere in London, run by a stunning Black woman. It's a small and intimate place, but the owner likes it that way. Nobody knows how long she's been running the place, as she looks somewhat young. Her background is a similar mystery, though it's rumored she was a soul singer in her early days. People know that because of various pictures she's pinned up here and there. Pictures of her in a slinky red dress, her hair pinned up in a bun, singing her heart out. But she doesn't sing anymore.

The bell chimes, and a man enters the dimly lit room. He's wearing a baseball cap, old jeans, and a dark blue hoodie. As he sits down at the bar near a raised corner that's a poor excuse for a stage, he orders the 2004.

Something about that order makes the owner's eyebrow raise. Yet she continues preparing the man's order, only taking a brief glance at the old photo on the wall. In it there's a man similar to her in a blue button-down shirt, wearing a gold earring shaped like a "male" sign. Next to it she stands in her own deep red dress, a gold earring shaped like a "female" sign dangling from her ear. She doesn't wear any headphones. Back then they didn't have to.

To the left of the picture of her is a younger Japanese woman with a short brown bob and a red shirt and miniskirt. To the right of the man is a Japanese man with blue hair and a matching scarf over a white coat. Meiko and Kaito. Supposedly the two have gotten famous. She wonders what they're doing now.

The TV above the bar flickers. Per the owner's decision, it only plays old interviews and concert footage. One might think that seemed vain of her, but it was more like a tribute in her eyes. This whole place was a testament to her legacy, even if hardly anyone knew it.

The man takes a sip of his drink, then puts it down. It looks like he's fallen from grace as well. Hardly anyone knows him now. Even though he was supposed to be the first one.

"You going to drink that?" the owner asks him.

"Maybe some other time...I just came here because..." he shrugs.

"Because...what?" She genuinely wants to know. Part of a bartender's job is understanding her customers.

"You're going to think I've lost it" he sighs.

"No, tell me" she prys.

Another sigh. "This place...it feels familiar to me somehow. Even though I've never been here before. I've lost it, haven't I?"

Something about that voice was so familiar to her. Almost as if she'd heard it before...

"No, you haven't...To tell the truth, I might be feeling the same thing"

He chuckles. "We've never met"

"Have we?" She can't be quite sure...

The man gets up from the bar. He sees the small stage in the corner. An idea crosses his mind, and yet...he doesn't know if he's ready.

"Something wrong?" the owner says from behind.

"It's nothing." Still, he wants to do it. More than anything else.

He walks up to the stage, hands in his pockets. The woman studies him carefully. It's not just his voice, everything about him feels familiar. His features, his style of dressing...She can't know for sure, though. If only there was a way for her to know.

His hand trembling slightly, he turns on the speaker. He steps up on the small stage, searching for a mic. Finally he finds one, somewhat covered in dust. He picks it up and lifts it to his lips.

From behind the bar, the woman watches him. Outwardly she's calm, but inside she's practically brimming with excitement. If this man is who she thinks he is...

He begins singing. It's an old song, and somewhat robotic. She recognizes it at once. It's "Sad Mondays". A song all but forgotten except by a select few. The man looks up, right at her. They were right.

"Leon?" she whispers.

"Lola.." he says.

Had this been different circumstances, they doubtless would have hugged each other. However, they were Vocaloids, and he'd been in the middle of a song. There was only one thing for them to do right now.

Lola stepped out from behind the bar and practically glided towards the stage. A feeling so familiar, despite being one she hadn't felt in years. Picking up a matching mic, she joined Leon's singing in a song they knew like the bottom of their hearts.

"Come on yeah yeah

Sing to me baby, yeah (yea yea yea)

Leon and Lola (Check it out)

Leon and Lola (Sing a little song for me!)

Leon and Lola, yeah

Check it out...

Leon and Lola..."