A/N: There seems to be a problem with the notification system. I haven't gotten any messages from ffnet for about 2 weeks now.


"Too Sexy" or "Of Hime's Wardrobe And Lack Of Pantyshots"

by Shadow Crystal Mage

Disclaimer: I do not own Princess Resurrection and am not making, nor attempting to make, money off this story.


"Why," Riza said, one rather boring night in the (technically) living room, about a day after they sent back Flandre's updated body and told the professor that liquid metal was a stupid thing to build a robot out of, "does Hime only have one dress?"

"You're one to talk," Reiri said cattily, one hand raised up to her face, wrist parallel to her mouth, an affectation she'd been taking to a lot.

"I'm on a budget," Riza growled. "I've been working at a mechanic's to make ends, you know. It's easier to buy in bulk."

"And your excuse for looking like Kim Possible is…?" Reiri said.

"I like getting laid," Riza said unrepentantly. "And stop trying to distract me. Why does Hime only have one style of dress? Even Sherwood has her 'expedition' gear. Hime has enough money to keep rebuilding this house after all the times it gets burned down, exploded, damaged and squashed, you'd think she'd be able to afford a shirt and hot pants."

"Shirt and hotpants?" Reiri grinned. "Is that what you want to see Hime wearing?"

"A thong and a wet t-shirt, actually," Riza admitted. "Speaking of which, what's your excuse?"

"I was living in an abandoned church," Reiri pointed out. "It didn't exactly have laundry facilities. My uniform is black because I could only wash it once a month, and not very well, at that."

"This town DOES have Laundromats, you know," Riza pointed out. "That's where I go."

"And what am I supposed to wear in the meantime, pray tell?" Reiri shot back. "Am I supposed to just walk around naked while I'm waiting for my clothes to dry? Completely naked, without a stitch on, cold, shaking…"

The two paused to wipe the drool from the corners of their mouths and the blood trickling from their noses.

"Why don't we ask Sawawa," Reiri suggested. "She does the laundry, doesn't she?"


"Hime's clothes?" Sawawa said, eyes wide and oblivious. "Now that you mention it, I don't do a lot of laundry for her. She only sends down one or two of her dresses a week. Come to think of it, I don't recall having ever washed her underwear. Most of the laundry I do is for me, Hiro and Flandre. How does Hiro keep spilling ketchup on himself? Or is it strawberry syrup? It's so hard to tell."

"Flandre has more laundry than Hime?" Riza said, surprised.

"Oh, yes. There's her Kerberotte costumes, of course. And her skin tight racing gear. And her Power Puff girl costume. And her Prisma Ilya and Nanoha cosplay. And her Darkstalkers cosplay. Tell me, do you know why all her underwear have 'Lilianne-sama's little plaything' on the fanny?"

The two shared looks that spoke of confirmed suspicions.

"Well, does she have any other clothes?" Reiri asked. "You must have seen when you put them in her closet, or when you cleaned her rooms."

"Actually, I've never been in Hime's rooms," Sawawa said. "Flandre brings up and down all her laundry, and cleans the room herself. I don't even know if she has a master bathroom. I'm not really sure why she needs a maid, really. I suppose Flandre can't reach the stove."

It was the most insightful thing they'd ever heard her say.


"Hime's underwear?" Hiro said, after they'd managed to corner him, turning red. "What would I know about that?"

Reiri looked into his eyes, always a bad idea with a vampire. "Hiro," she purred as her hypnotic abilities went to work. "Answer me truthfully. Is the reason Sawawa hasn't been washing a lot of Hime's clothes because you've been a naughty boy and taking them up to your room?"

"I wish," Hiro said, words slurring slightly. "I have to make do with the ones that get torn up when she goes into battle. I haven't been able to get at any of her panties. I don't think they exist."

"Come to think of it," Riza mused, "Hime has never had a panty shot. You've had several, but then you're you, and my claim to fame is really low riding pants, but Hime's never been in anything racy. Is this why? Because she doesn't have any panties to shoot?"

"What are you talking about?" Hime's voice said behind them, and the three jumped, the shock knocking Hiro out of his hypnosis.

They looked at the phoenix princess who could definitely kick Jean Grey's ass standing behind them, her arms crossed, and became distinctly conscious of the fact this was the girl who dual-wielded live chainsaws like most wannabes would swords. "Uh, Hime…" Riza said, not having recovered yet.

"The werewolf was wondering why you only own one style of dress and apparently don't own underwear," Reiri said, the treacherous bloodsucker.

Hime gave them that blank, inscrutable look. "Were you seriously just discussing that?" she said.

"Yes," Reiri chirped, making Riza long to strangle her. Come to think of it, why hadn't she? Why isn't she?

Hime let out an annoyed breath through her nose that somehow managed to be lady-like. "I don't see why my undergarments are any business of yours, but to satisfy your curiosity…"

Hiro's head– both of them– rose up, instantly alert as Hime reached her hand down to her black skirt. Was she really going to do it? Was this all just a dream? Was some fat weirdo with a reed shopping bag on his head going to come out of nowhere and cut his head off with garden shears? Some cruel joke by Reiri's mind-powers? An even crueler joke by some sort of greater power, perhaps some kind of mage with crystals beyond some sort of invisible wall, who was shamelessly getting his hopes up only for it to be a complete letdown?

The hand came up, the skirt rose with it, and Hiro was treated to the sight of a genuine Hime panty-shot.

Time seemed to stop, the universe finally being kind to him as it allowed him a metaphorical eternity to properly appreciate the divinity before him.

Big Hiro's nose dripped with blood. Little Hiro did the same, not with blood.

He fell over in a happy heap, muttering about things like ""It's see-through" and "The veins of gold…!"

"I have to hand-wash these myself," Hime said, letting her skirt dropped as Hiro fell into a pile of wet mush. "Flandre's hands aren't delicate enough for this, and Sawawa doesn't seem to understand the distinction."

"Oh. Ah," Riza said, the only intelligible thing she'd managed to string together. Reiri had been leering quite openly, and had made a disappointed whine when Hime had let her skirt drop. "That's, ah, reasonable. But then, why do you only have one style of dress?"

"I like this dress," Hime said, as if explaining to a child. "Besides, I have more important expenditures than clothes. That truck we drive around in is hardly fuel efficient, and I still have to make the installments for the ones that have been blown up or crashed. Custom-made chainsaws aren't cheap, either. How else do you think I can use them in one hand?"

As Riza tried to think of a response, Reiri fell to her knees. "Hime," she said. "Can I see it again? I didn't get a very good view…"


Weeks passed. The sight of Hime's under was forgotten– well, all right, it wasn't forgotten, it quickly became a treasured memory and remembered as often as possible. Various monsters were fought. Hime's crazy older sister stayed annoyingly out of sight. Eventually, the topic of Hime's clothes were mention in passing to Sherwood when she came to visit.

"Oh, that's because she's too sexy for her clothes," she said.

"Too sexy for her clothes?" Riza repeated, blinking in incomprehension.

"Too sexy for her clothes," Sherwood confirmed. "So sexy it hurts. She's too sexy for Milan."

"Too sexy for Milan?" Reiri repeated, eyes wide at the revelation.

Sherwood nodded. "Too sexy for Milan, New York, and Japan. And she's too sexy for your party."

"Too sexy for my party?" Riza said, not understanding.

"If this was an RPG, I mean," Sherwood clarified. "And there's no way she's disco dancing. And she's too sexy for a car. Too sexy by far. That's why she rides in the truck."

"Ah!" Reiri said in understanding. "That's why she only has dresses. She's too sexy to wear shirts."

"Too sexy to wear shirts," Riza agreed. "And she's too sexy for this song."

"What song?"


- The End


A/N: And that's why I wrote this fic. It's is because that song happened to enter my head at the same time as I has thinking of Hime. The anti-songfic rules don't say anything about the lyric of a song appearing in casual conversation =).

And now, the original idea:


Omake: The Original Idea


"I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurts," Hime sang as she rooted through her closet, trying to decide which of her (seemingly) identical dresses to wear, her naked skin pebbling after her hot, long, soapy shower. "And I'm too sexy for Milan, too sexy for Milan, New York, and Japan."

She plucked one out of the rack, laying it on her bed. "And I'm too sexy for your party, too sexy for your party. No way I'm disco dancing." She made a little pirouette as she pulled out a pair of black stockings from a drawer, and sat on the bed to put them on.

"I'm a model you know what I mean," she sang as pulled the stocking's on sensuously. "And I do my little turn on the catwalk, yeah," she reached for the dress and slipped it over her head, settling it around her hips, "on the catwalk on the catwalk, yeah, I do my little turn on the catwalk ."

"I'm too sexy for my car too sexy for my car, too sexy by far," she reached for her tiara, resting on the bedside table. She rested it on her head, and began to adjust it on a mirror. "And I'm too sexy for my hat, too sexy for my hat, what do you think about that?"

"And I'm too sexy for this song…"




Please review, C&C welcome.

Until next time, this is Shadow, signing off.