Hello!

So, if you didn't read the summary (I don't know, maybe you spontaneously click on oneshots or something) this is an ode to Karin, for her haters (Heck, maybe I'll reform a few –hopeful look-) and lovers alike.

Dedicated to Mercury's Moonlight Serenity, whom I hope will appreciate this as much as I appreciated her first review to me.

To you, Seren. Keep spreading the "love."

Enjoy!

- - - - - -His Daybreak, My Sunset- - -Kare No Akatsuki, Watashi No Yuuyake- - - - - -

Once upon a time, there was an ugly princess named Karin.

Most princesses wore flowing robes of pink and gold, and were lavished in jewels and painted with makeup.

Karin wore a purple top, black shorts, and simple blue sandals.

Most princesses got the knack of eye contacts on their first try.

The optician had given up on Karin after the second hour of trying to get the first lens on, and had instead thrown her a pair of black-rimmed glasses.

Most princesses sat all alone, lonely in their suites of silk and crystal.

Karin was alone, all right, in a jail cell, in chains, surrounded by all of the other prisonners.

Most princesses had valets running in every direction, each searching for her everlasting happiness.

When someone got sick in the jail cell, Karin help them down and gave them the shots.

When most princesses' thrones are overthrown, they are the ones who get special treatment.

Karin was just another slave.

Most princesses are prim and polite.

Karin learned quickly that good manners usually meant time wasted and missions failed.

Princes save most princesses.

Karin saved herself.

Most princesses could do a shampoo commercial any day of the week.

Karin could be the "before" girl in a cold sore commercial.

But Karin doesn't care.

She stomped on her plastic tiara when she turned three.

She has no principles, she has no shame.

Go ahead, blame it on the circumstances.

They will.

She smirks to herself as she walks beside them. They can laugh at her all they want.

"No hope," they say?

"No worries," she replies. "I'm not a princess, granted, but this isn't a fairytale, either."

They scoff, but she continues.

"He'll always be with me," she says, slinging her backpack higher up on her shoulder. "There's a heart inside him, and I'll make sure it keeps on beating."

He'll never wear a crown, and I'll never wear a dress.

He's not carrying me into our sunset, but I'm following him to his daybreak.

And that's fine with me.