Edit Jan-2011: Once, I had planned on completely rewriting this fic. Even after five years have gone by since I first wrote this thing, the story and its concept remain very dear to me. Even so, the more I tried to rewrite it, the more I realized how the concept had evolved beyond what I could write.

Maybe in another five years I'll gain the maturity to articulate what I meant to articulate here. By then, the characters will no longer be Natsuki, Shizuru, and Kiyohime. Despite the enormous faults due to my childish ambition—I wrote what I thought would be cool and not what the narrative and characters needed—I think this thing is still worth a once-over. I'll still be editing minor bits here and there, but it will remain mostly the same as it did in the two year process of writing these ten chapters.

So yeah, for those who have read this thing before—thanks for doing so. For those who are just starting—thanks for doing so too.

Anyway, this fic is based on the very problematic Mai-HiME manga-verse. Because it was so problematic, I thought it would be nice to stage a minor intervention. Therefore, everything of the manga-verse is canon though the character's personalities are rounded to be more like their anime selves. As some people are not familiar with manga—nor would I wish it upon them to read the actual atrocity—details that are not apparent within the fic will be present before each chapter. As such:

-All HiMEs have a Key, their most precious person.
-A HiME's Child only appears when her Key touches her Element
-Tate Yuuichi is Mai AND Natsuki's Key
-Tate Yuuichi is also both Mai AND Natsuki's love interest
-Natsuki refers to Tate as her "slave"
-Natsuki's mother comes back from the "dead" to betray her yet again
-Shizuru plays an very minor role and is virtually nonexistent.
-Shizuru is NOT a HiME

Delirium
Chapter 1

Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forward.
-Soren Kierkegaard

It was well into the morning, a lazy spring time. The weather was close to perfect; there was not a cloud in the sky. Nearby, birds sang pleasantly on treetops and telephone wires. And, because it was Saturday, there was no hustle and bustle of noisy students rushing to school or the sound of businessmen's well-polished shoes hitting the cement at a reserved yet hurried pace. Instead, most chose to use the time to relax and curl up with a good book, a cup of coffee in hand, watch Saturday morning cartoons in blissful tranquility, or perhaps spend the morning cuddled next to a loved one.

In a quaint, well-off housing district on the outskirts of Fuuka, a house stood which neighbors jokingly referred to as the "Kuga-Fujino" home. It was a regal building—a quasi-mansion almost—by far the largest house in the area. Built in a classical Japanese style (perhaps as a tribute to the Edo period), with several spaces (as there is no such thing as a room in the traditional house) covered by tatami, multi-purposed areas, and a large sand and grass garden in the back—the house was an effortless merge of the past with the present. Despite its appearance, it had been built a little less than a decade ago.

Its owner was a delicate-looking princess who was quite amiable and almost sinfully polite. The home was built and exactly structured for her. Just about everyone liked this woman. Even the nosiest neighbors could speak no ill of her.

They could, however, squabble and send rumors alight of the person, a seemingly forever-frowning woman, who appeared to be the young lady's polar-opposite. She had been invited into the house's walls three years ago and had been living there ever since. Even though neighbors gossiped once and a while (there were a few rumors still circulating of late night trysts before the blue-haired woman had moved in) most agreed that the pair were, at the most, good friends. They reasoned that was no couple-like tension or atmosphere between the two that hinted anything else.

In reply to those neighbors' assumption, behind the walls of the more-than-humble home, all was quiet save for the soft rustling of clothes and the sound of a body moving.

Twenty-three-year-old Kuga Natsuki, in her fourth and final year in college, sat on top of a large, particularly comfortable futon. Surprisingly, it was still in plain view. Traditional customs ordered that the futon should be rolled up and put away after waking up so the space could be used for other purposes yet Natsuki, who had been awake for over an hour, made no move to do so. She instead sat cross-legged and stared blankly, uncomprehendingly, at the sight in front of her. A tray containing a lone cup of still steaming tea was at her side.

What her eyes focused upon was the sight of Fujino Shizuru who was fully dressed. Natsuki was still in her sleep wear.

The other woman moved mechanically, her step was stiff and emotionless yet curiously determined at the same time. Her eyes stayed trained on her path, only blinking when it was required. Never once did her head turn to look at the other. Her purposeful, deliberate actions were indubitable.

Fujino Shizuru was packing.

The rustling of clothes was Shizuru carefully folding and then placing her clothing inside her opened suitcases. Already one case was filled. A part of Natsuki wanted to pretend that the other woman was packing for a long business trip that Shizuru had conveniently forgotten to tell her about, but that lie had long expired. The other part didn't know what to think. There was no reason why Shizuru would have to pack all her clothes for a business trip.

The burgundy-eyed woman had, while studying at Fuuka's university (despite getting admission to far better schools), been employed at a local bookstore. When the elderly owner had died three years ago, the store had been left in Shizuru's capable hands. What Natsuki didn't know was that the Kyoto-born had sold the bustling store less than a week ago.

If she had known this tiny morsel of information, perhaps the trepid feeling that was already welling inside her form would increase and suddenly the trace of anxiety in her would crescendo into full blown confusion. Maybe it was just too early to care or perhaps even inferring what was possibly transpiring was too implausible, too unbelievable for her to entertain the very thought but, for whatever reason, Natsuki remained fixated where she sat, utterly incapable of movement.

The more she scrutinized her, Natsuki noticed that Shizuru was shaking slightly. That when she reached up to take an outfit from the wardrobe, neatly fold a piece of clothing, or place the garment into the suitcase, the older woman's hands would quiver, as if responding to inner turmoil caused by her actions and thoughts. Moments after this realization had dawned, she observed Shizuru's trembling had caused the usually graceful woman to accidentally drop a skirt onto the floor.

Natsuki nearly moved from her place on the futon out of instinct yet Shizuru quickly amended her mistake. Her head almost faced in the direction where Natsuki sat, but the older woman abruptly turned her body away so that she once again faced her wardrobe. After that, the older woman appeared like she couldn't take anymore—hands were clenched into fists around the fabric she held, her shoulders tense. Shizuru threw the skirt to the floor and slid open the shouji door. The older woman nearly ran to the kitchen, more or less fleeing from her.

Natsuki sunk back down on the warm futon. Even though the creases had been altered, one could tell that a second person had once occupied the floor-bed.

They had been together for almost four years now, ever since…

"I'm telling you Kuga, this has to stop," Tate was speaking softly, trying to make her understand. "The one I care for is Mai. I do love you, but not the way you want."

Arms encircled her in a brotherly hug. That annoying voice continued to speak, "You can't do this anymore. Please stop waiting around for me." His eyes did soften and it was obvious even to her that he acted with genuine care. Nevertheless, he let go of her at the entrance of the Fuuka University to catch up with a waiting Mai.

They were in their first year of college; Natsuki couldn't believe that her "slave" meant what he said. After all, who could deny her? So, the stubborn girl decided to go to Tate's dorm room after class to "show" him.

She found him with his arms encircling Tokiha, mouths intertwined in a passionate kiss. That seductress had already been shed of her jacket while Yuuichi's naked torso was turned facing the door. He looked up for a moment, his eyes locked onto hers for what seemed like an eternity. Her green eyes had been wide in bitter shock. Her heart had shattered while a pulsing beat rang in her ears, deafening her.

"Is something wrong Tate?" she heard Mai ask in throaty moan.

"No…nothing at all."

It can't be, Natsuki tried to rationalize as she ran away as fast as she could. Tears welled in her eyes.

After that, she had laid on her bed, refusing all visitors. Tate had been at her door several times, every time he had shouted at the closed door that he had already told her. That she should have known. Mai had been there too, not apologizing, but still trying to comfort her pseudo-friend. Several students and even a few professors had slid notes and homework under her apartment door which congregated in an untouched mountain of paper.

And then, after a few days of sulking, she had heard a polite knock at her door.

"Natsuki, it is me," said a disembodied, heavily-accented voice. When the voice received no answer, it then replied:

"Natsuki…I'm coming in." The door opened and the other woman's threat was carried out.

Just then she remembered that ex-Student President had a key to her apartment. Natsuki would've cursed had she not been hugging her pillow tightly. It seemed like a good idea at time, giving Shizuru her key, and sooner or later she would have been bullied into giving it to the resourceful other.

"My, Natsuki's apartment is an absolute sty," the other woman laughed as she made her way across small piles of papers, dirty clothes, and books to the bed.

"Leave me alone," she deadpanned. Natsuki didn't want to deal with the other's troublesome presence. Yet, just to smite her, the sound of footsteps informed her that the other had moved closer to her and that Shizuru now sat at the side of her bed. She felt soft fingers caress her head, gently combing through her hair.

"I meant what I said all those years ago." Shizuru told her as she continued to stroke Natsuki's head. Natsuki slowly brought herself into a sitting position. Once she did, the older woman quickly embraced her.

"I want to give Natsuki the experience of a happy family. I want to give her everything that she needs..." Shizuru had shifted so her wine-colored eyes could meet with green that immediately turned away. A gentle smile along with a gentle expression was on the older woman's face.

"Because I love you, Natsuki."

Grimly had Natsuki tightened her grip upon Shizuru's shirt, not wanting to lose the last remaining stability of her life. She had been betrayed so many times before. By her mother, by Yuuichi... But Shizuru had always been there… always unwavering in her support…she never would deceive her…

She had looked up to see that the adoring expression in the other's eyes had not changed. Natsuki had then shifted, moved her body forward, and closed the distance between her and Shizuru. Her hands reached upwards to tangle in soft golden brown hair; Natsuki passionately, desperately, kissed Shizuru who, after a few moments of shock, could do nothing to repress her own emotions. Shizuru returned the kiss back just as desperately even though she knew it was wrong—it was too much for her.

The sound of a cabinet opening in the kitchen area broke Natsuki out of her reverie. The sound of porcelain clinging with porcelain summoned up alarm.

She couldn't be…

Every muscle, nerve, and thought froze inside of Natsuki. She felt as if she had been hit with Duran's sub-zero attack. It couldn't be possible…it just couldn't—she refused to even entertain the idea.

As if he sensed the tense atmosphere that surrounded his two owners, Duran the Shiba Inu whimpered timorously from the garden. Despite being so soft, so timid, the sound pierced the air as fast as light. The sound continued; arduous, laborious notes hit the air. The spoiled pet could've been crying for attention or food, yet his sound did confirm that everyone in the residence was struck by the arrow of melancholy.

The whimpering increased in sound, rising upwards like an elegy, a neglected lament, yet Natsuki did not move. She was fixated at her spot. She had been so since she had woken up and saw that her side was unoccupied by a body which usually was plastered next to her. Instead that body had been up…determinedly packing.

Steps resounded like the beat of a steady, resolute drum as the other woman made her way back into that room. They resonated in her mind—those steps—each were a blow to her unsteady, uncomprehending heart. Shizuru had returned empty handed. The case was probably near the genkan, the entrance of their home.

Natsuki wanted to jump up, grab the other by her arm, and hotly demand what Shizuru was doing. She wanted to glare into those equally determined eyes and break that resolve. She wanted to tell the other woman to get a hold of herself, to tell her to stay. Yet the words, the actions—they stayed encased inside of her. It was the first time since her mother's "death" that she felt so frightened, panicked. She was afraid of the answer she would hear and the reaction she would receive.

Maybe Shizuru would turn with tears hot in her eyes and slap her. Maybe Shizuru would say that she was tired of Natsuki, that the other was too much work to deal with. Maybe…too many thoughts ran through her head, banging at her temple, screaming for release, and begging for speculation. And thus, Natsuki remained uncharacteristically indecisive.

Inside that room was a silent pandemonium. All hell seemed to have broken loose. The war that was waged inside those sliding walls was one that was fought by wills that did not clash. The silence that adorned in the room hung like a thick miasma; it increased the pressure on her lungs, choking her. She wondered as she sat there—did she wake up in some kind of alternate universe that Shizuru despised her?

Fear. Pure, simplistic fear drove her into her current predicament. She was a person of brash, brazen impulse. She usually acted upon spontaneity, taking no nonsense from just about anyone who got in her way. Anyone who had was soon staring down both the barrels of her twin guns and Duran's as well. Yet the very basis of her character, the fundamental of her being seemed to be paralyzed by the situation in front of her. She felt like she had once again reverted back into that tiny, weak child who could only helplessly watch her mother die.

With a finalizing click, the last suitcase was closed. Shizuru carried one of the bags out of the room while Natsuki continued to stare at the space the other once occupied. The other woman returned once more for the second suitcase and then Natsuki watched her leave.

It was in that moment that immense gravity of the situation finally hit her. Natsuki sprang from where she sat on the comfortable futon, away from the now cold cup of untouched tea, and ran out the room to chase after the other woman. Had she took the time to realize it, Natsuki would have seen that the only outfit left in Shizuru's wardrobe was her high school uniform.

She ran on the engawa, the veranda of the home, faster than she had ever ran before. She planned to cut the other off from the outside. Her messy bed hair flapped behind her like an unfurled banner. As Natsuki quickly ran away from her memories of the past in favor of the present, her thoughts became consumed with stopping Shizuru before she too would haunt her past.

Duran immediately perked when he saw his master yet she had quickly slid open another door and disappeared from his view. The dog lowered his head and continued to whine dejectedly in neglect.

Heart pounding, Natsuki finally caught up with Shizuru who was already halfway on the walkway. There was a yellow taxi waiting for her. The driver appeared to already have loaded most of the cases.

"Shizuru!" Natsuki shouted. For some reason, her heart wouldn't slow its frantic pace. It instead continued to quicken, beating inside her like a ticking bomb. Something heavy was in her stomach. Her throat contained some damnable object that wouldn't let her swallow, let her breathe properly. She wanted to throw up. She wanted to wake up screaming from this terrible nightmare. But was it really a nightmare?

They ran from the rain until they made it halfway on the "lawn" of their home. Due to the chase, Shizuru was openly laughing, a rare time where she fully let down her guard. Natsuki couldn't help but to smile. She ran her hand through the other's wet locks, still smiling happily. Both of them were out of breath, shoulders heaving up and down.

Shizuru looked at her amusedly; her head was tilted, curious of what the other would do.

"You idiot," Natsuki muttered, more to herself than anything, before throwing her arms around her; a hand snaked up to cup the other's warm cheek. Lips touched briefly.

Shizuru was the one who broke the kiss. For a moment her eyes were sad, hurt, yet in a moment they were back to normal. Before Natsuki could react, Shizuru pushed her gently away before running into the house, skipping steps in her quick pace.

"It is Natsuki who is the idiot," the older woman responded as she moved deeper into the house. Despite the frivolity of the statement, the undertone was full of a different, more complex emotion.

She had dismissed it then, yet it began to happen more often. That pensive, that apprehensive look continued to build its foundation in Shizuru's coutenance. Often the other would smile at her, tell her it was nothing, and then continue to stare off into space at something that only she could see which caused her face to contort in pain. Shizuru would spend more time at her bookstore, making excuses not to come home. And worst of all, Natsuki never thought to ask. She had thought that Shizuru had family problems…or something of that sort. It wouldn't have been something that concerned her…would it?

She stood at the genkan, her hands braced at the side of the house. The uncertainty in her was like a vast ocean where tumultuous waves starting in the pit of her stomach grew with such voracious intensity until they seemed to engulf her entire form and make her tremble every time they crashed.

It took an eternity for Shizuru to turn her body. At first her eyes refused to meet and then…when they did...

Natsuki let loose a gasp. Shizuru's expression shattered what was left of her fortitude, washing away whatever sentiment that had once been seated at her tongue. How could one describe what was in the eyes of Shizuru? A wounded expression, an expression of a hurt that had been gathered for years on end...claret eyes filled with tears that finally dropped after being bravely held all through the morning. There were no words to describe the amount of pain that she saw in those gentle watery eyes.

"Natsuki," the woman whispered, her voice cracking and barely audible. Her name was uttered like the title of the greatest torment that had ever existed, as if she wrought upon Shizuru the greatest of all grievances. So much emotion was unwittingly put into a spoken sound.

Silence rang in her ear; it slowly drained away all her power, her ability to think. Their eyes seemed to be locked for a bitter eternity, one that was not interrupted by any words. Her green eyes had once conveyed the sentiment that it was her who was the victim of this cruel, wordless "tirade" but now she was not so sure. Maybe she was the perpetrator of the serenity that had once been between them. Slowly, the jagged edges of her countenance had been worn away until all that was left was the smooth surface that reflected doubt, worry, fear, pain, confusion, and, most of all, despair.

There her senpai, best friend…lover stood halfway between the entrance of the home and the waiting taxi. Natsuki felt her fingernails dig into the wood of the house as she continued to wordlessly stare into her eyes, the multitude of emotions stupefying her in its strength. She beseeched with questioning eyes at the watery burgundy to stay, to come back.

And then, Shizuru forced herself to turn. The honey brown-haired woman walked towards the driver. She handed to him the last of her baggage. She got into the car. The driver went into his seat. The car started and the vehicle that contained the vestige of Natsuki's last "dearest" one left. Shizuru never once looked back.

From the entranceway, Natsuki slowly sank down to her knees. For some reason there were no tears were in her eyes. The blank expression returned to her face as her chest continued to heave up and down, as her stomach curled in the weight of all the emotions that plagued her.

They had spoken only two words in that sunny, near perfect weather morning. It had taken less than two hours for Shizuru to cut her ties to her.

Shizuru…she left her. She left her in the entranceway of the house that she owned. She left behind the girl she had taken care of since middle school.

It took a while for Natsuki to fully understand what had transpired.

Fujino Shizuru was gone.