A Motley Crew, Ch. 1

Part 1:

When you think of a flower, you think of a wonder hidden in a bulbous bud, and when revealed, holding wonderous color and a scent akin to all the pleasantries life holds in its palm.

They hold steadfast even when the wind obstinately bellows its woes, even when bugs infest its core, and die only to make yet another in its image.

And yet, if you saw Flower Inokori at this very moment, (in yoga pants and an exaggeratingly large t-shirt) you'd think that introduction was the least suiting of all those written before.

Her face was smitten with theatrical woe as her sleek, white bangs bounced against her eyes, emulating the complete adverse of how she felt. Her eyes donned the most atrocious eyebags, and her lips the dryest sigh, as she applied a fresh spray of black hair dye onto one singular streak of hair.

This was the result of her efforts to maintain a diet for the past week, and it had been the most grueling task she'd ever taken up. Gone were the days that she filled with 4000-calorie meals, gone were the weekly visits to the divine golden arch of McDonald's. She had sold her soul to the devil for the sake of public image, and now she saw her grim future of only eating salad lying ahead of her. Oy, givalt!

So now, at 4 am in the morning, on the most innocuous Monday one could recall, Flower stank of grief and lachrymose, along with must, as she hadn't gone out for a week since she had initially purchased her apartment.

This was what the popular singer, Flower Inokori, did on her off time.

"I must break free from this prison!" she exclaimed. "AND GET SOMETHING TO EAT!"

But that proved much more of an incredulous dream than she had thought. Her kitchen was so sad and desolate that Gordon Ramsay would be speechless, as she had already emptied every fridge and cabinet to ward off the temptation of food. Another thing Lady Luck had cursed her with was that stores in the area generally weren't open at 4 am, and ordering online was useless, because:

1: Why would someone realistically be doing Uber Eats at 4 am?

2: If someone came to her door, they'd find out where she resided, and her privacy was certainly not worth any Big Mac.

So, the only option left...which would prove more of a hassle than her initial epiphany, was to go next door and ask for something to eat.

Yes, at this point, the aforementioned Lady Luck was practically flipping her off in jest.

Part 2:

Two rapid knocks came from Fukase Owari's door, timed with the precision of a clock, and the volume of a 14-wheeler. He too had been up and was trying to see if microwaving grapes held a whit of the dangers he had heard when the mentioned noise pulverated his scientific proceedings (Grab grape, put grape, watch grape. Quite complicated.).

He quizzically looked at the clock, crossed his fingers in hope it wasn't anything having to do with the mailbox he'd blown up the day before, and begrudgingly opened the door.

Flower's next-door neighbor, in her opinion, was an oddity to behold. His hair was dyed a gaudy red, accompanying his cartoonishly large hat (a pattern of red and white) and white, draping overcoat. At this hour, he wore chunky red sandals, and undereye patches (almost precariously hanging off his face).

To Fukase, Flower was even more enigmatic. Her white hair (young-looking old-bag), her black streak (emo), her clothes (really black = emo), and that ravenous look on her face, as if she were going to eat the poor man alive.

"Who are you?"

"Uh, Flower? Flower Inokori?" Flower pointed to her hair. "Is this familiar?"

"The singer?" Fukase shook his head in distaste. "No way."

"Look, not all singers look great all the time, ok?!"

"I'm a singer, and I look quite handsome. All. the. time." Fukase preeningly rebutted, leaving Flower even more annoyed than she originally was. "Also, how do you have no food anyways?"

The visitor frowned. "Diet."

"Well, you don't want to give up now!" Fukase grinned. "Keep up the good work!"

"Could you please just lend me some instant ramen? (or more preferably pizza, but it's whatever, y'know...)" Flower begged.

"Hm," The etchings of Fukase's face darkened in seriousness (for once). "You said you were that one singer?"

"Yes!" Flower said, hoping they were getting somewhere.

"So you can help me then!"

Flower leaned in, curiosity piqued. "With what?"

"I'll tell you inside. Standing isn't my thing."

Fukase's apartment was riddled with various paraphernalia that could be expected of such a random personality, from cigarettes to flowers in wine bottles to an overdue Christmas tree (for context, it was June). In one corner, sat a small keyboard, and in another, sat a ventriloquist dummy mirroring his caricature. Flower expected a roller coaster in the bathroom, but it was just a normal bathroom, unbelievably.

Anyhow, Fukase started to prepare some cereal and offered it to Flower.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you my name! It's Fukase, Fukase Owari. Remember that when I get famous," he said. "Here, an offering." this was met with a humorous bow.

"Cereal?"

"Look, I'm broke, ok?!"

Flower willingly took it from Fukase's sallow hands and started to eat, as voracious as a hungry wolf.

"Geez, how long have you been dieting?" Fukase stared in awe at the specimen on his couch, brandishing her spoon as if the meal was some kind of monster.

"A week. And it's more along the lines of fasting, sadly"

"Well," he dragged. "I know something better than fasting!"

"What is?"

"Helping me with this song!" Fukase brightened as if it was even a little germane to the previous subject. He took out a notebook from a nearby drawer, the cover obfuscated by clusters of anime stickers. He then opened to a page riddled with scribbles, crosses, and every so often, intelligible language. "I've been stuck for the longest, and I don't know what to do with this idea. You see..."

With that, Flower heard the synopsis of the song, a half-baked storyline about a girl without her lover, and then shooting up a skyscraper for superficial revenge, and lastly, feeling remorse, and catching her boyfriend from the sky, becoming his savior. A "tour de force about sadness, hope, and guns", as described by its writer.

"This is kind of stupid," Flower admitted.

"WHA?!" Fukase looked at her with a vaudeville expression of shock. "How dare you desecrate my song!"

"But, it's intriguing," The star put her hands together. "I'm in."

And with that, 2 hours were wasted away helping Fukase with his underdeveloped masterpiece. Instrumentals were debated ("But Electronic beats fit it!", "No, I think an orchestral composition would be more dramatic"), food was eaten (mostly by Flower), and even the keyboard was pulled out at some point ("Flower, you seriously can't play?!").

Then, at the stark hour of 6 am, Flower yelped out an exclamation.

"Oh god, six already!?" She started flimsily rushing out the door.

"Wait, where are you going?" Fukase wondered.

"I work part-time at a cafe! (Oh, I can't believe I didn't sleep today!)"

"Well uh, see you around then?"

"Yeah, see you!"

And with that, a friendship was about to start.

And it was all because of a craving for food.

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Character pronunciations:

Flower Inokori (Fuh-Lao-Ur Ih-No-Kor-EE)

Fukase Owari (Phoo-Caw-Say Oh-Waar-EE)

Random notes:

I decided to use She/Her pronouns for Flower, even though she's gender ambiguous. Vocaloids can have whatever headcanons a creator chooses, and I'm not used to writing characters with they/them pronouns.

Flower's last name came from her first song, "Inokori Sensei", while Fukase's comes from his voice provider's irl band, "Sekai No Owari".

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