Breaking the Boundaries

Disclaimer: none of this belongs to me, the unoriginal idea or Mai HiME. The only thing I rightfully own is the time I've wasted to write such blasphemy of a story.

Well, after reading almost all ShizNat fic there is in I can only say that I've encountered a few stereotypes about her (too much that it's kinda… boring), and so breaking the set of rules and bashing em around seems fun… and I can't read Japanese, so screw whatever the official site writes about her. Just one note: this is clearly not meant for Shizuru bashing, just some random fun I wrote at some random time in some random mood.

Note:

Iya dosu: Nope

Shizuru said that in otome, just thought it'd be a fitting line for her playfulness rather than an ordinary 'no'. And the umbrella one… gomen! I can't resist… because an inch is not even a difference, I mean, it's not even an inch, more like two centimeters (Americans and their… non-metric systems…).

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Chapter 1: Shizuru Has a Highly Delicate Kyoto Digestive System

"So…" Natsuki asked absentmindedly, whilst twirling with her finger her soft, blue hair that has the magical ability to glow golden when bathed with sunset, "since it's near golden week and your ha- groupies seem to be off with their own thing… lunch?"

Shizuru looked up from her laptop and adjusted her reading glasses, a sight her har- err, fangirls would swoon over and die for. Of course Natsuki was one of the few who had the privilege of witnessing such scene that might prove to be quite lethal for our wellbeing (symptoms may and will include heart-stopping, major swooning, sudden eye transform into heart-shape, fainting, and a few more that might be too obscene to even suggest). "If Natsuki wishes so… shall we go to my favorite place then?"

Her soon-to-be uke frowned slightly, "You've never mentioned it to me."

"Because Natsuki never asked." She replied simply.

Duh. Shizuru's 'Don't-ask-don't-tell' policy was starting to bug her; it was always her opening up, her taking Shizuru to her favorite place, her telling Shizuru her problems. "Is it safe to guess that it's Japanese, probably tasteless, probably boring, probably healthy, probably fat-free?" As in, my oh so delicate system might throw everything up if I dare touch anything resembling food served under an hour? She retorted rather sarcastically, perhaps more annoyed on not knowing something as minor as Shizuru's favorite place after knowing her like, what? Four years?

The older woman paused briefly from her typing, smiling her trademark smile, and replied rather airily, "It's quite the opposite, in fact. I'm sure Natsuki will like it."

A snort was heard, but she ignored it and continued her halted work.

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This time, Natsuki did not only frown, but her eyebrow was also twitching fairly rapidly. "Pizza?" She half-shouted disbelievingly, "Your favorite place is a friggin' pizza joint?"

"There's also Mos burger, but I thought Natsuki likes pizza better?"

Right. There goes Shizuru's image of being a delicate, elegant, traditional Kyoto woman that has never touched fast food in her live, down the drain. Somehow she felt the said girl had managed to roll that image up, crumpled it, burned it half way through, bitch-slapped Natsuki with it, stomped on it, kicked it into the gutter, and laughed evilly while doing so.

Seeing no immediately response from the blue, but sometimes inconsistently shown as purple haired girl, she gestured inside the shop, "shall we go in then?" Besides, it was rather uncomfortable being stared at with eyes almost rivaling frying pans.

"Y-yea, let's…"

Sometimes ignorance is a bliss...

And the fact that Shizuru seemed to have an addiction towards mustard didn't help it either.

But at least she had learned more about Shizuru that day. She made a note to treat her out to another place sometimes.

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Now, this is a story I actually expect flames, or no reviews at most. Let the flame rollin'.