Right. I started this on the day I uploaded the third chapter. So it'll still be quite rushed.

This entire chapter is a flashback, so it'll have no relation to the K-On! cast whatsoever. Shows Kaguya's past, why she's almost albino.

And, note. Real violence, and disturbing scenes in the chapter. I'll put a summary at the bottom, so if you can't stand violence and blood, skip everything, and scroll all the way to the bottom.


"Are you sure you're ready for it?" Kariya Minamimoto, or a man known as my father, asked for the umpteenth time.

"I already confirmed once. If the eighteenth time would not be assuring enough for you, then we would be wasting time, and I might as well do it myself," came my cold, emotionless reply.

"Very well, then be prepared, this is going to hurt. A hell lot," my father, as comforting as ever.

Where was I? A run down apartment building, far away from any one, thing, or place. Lying down on a bed, I was going to get a shot from my father, a shot that claimed would 'enhance' me, in all ways possible. Remove all 'impurities', increase strength, smell, eyesight, hearing, and of course, thinking. A shot that would make the fictitious 'Super Soldier', the shot whose effects are visible, but the consequences it does to your body, dire. Never before had a tester taken it and lived to tell the tale, and those who have, never the same, in both body, and more impactful, the mind.

And I, a frail little girl, was going to take it with no more than my confidence to help support my miserable life.

Asthmatic, an albino, and had a number of physical defects in my right arm, I was truly what someone would call 'pitiful'. The worse thing was that I was the daughter of an assassin, who wished me to succeed him, thus the taking of the shot. My mother, on the other hand, was not one very supportive of me being a gun for hire. But it was inevitable; this was the path she picked when she chose to be wedded to my father.

My father jabbed my left arm, my perfect arm, with the syringe, then injected the serum in me. I screamed in sheer agony. It was not the pain of the jabbing that made me cry, it was what the serum was doing to my body that made me feel utterly terrible.

The serum was working way too fast. From the outside, my skin became translucent, making my entire body system visible. If there were sunlight that could touch my body, I would be dead in an instant, and granted, that would have been something I'd welcome more than the current sensation. My vessels, from red, were becoming pitch, dark black, and instead of going numb from pain, it was as if it was an adrenaline that made my body more active, only to further intensify the pain.

The pain was beyond anything I could comprehend; it would be better if I'd just died. I couldn't describe the pain, it would just make my life feel so much worse than it already was. Even my right arm, despite all it's flaws, was not spared. When it reached my lungs, my poor, weak lungs, I could practically see Death offering to shake my hand and bring me to my mother. Then something happened to my eyes, which made me scream louder than usual. It was as if my eyes were being changed, getting replaced. My brain then got struck by an unknown sensation, far worse than the pain and agony my body was feeling, as if it were forcing my brain to implode.

I struggled around the bed like an uncontrolled maniac, and thank goodness I was strapped down by duct tape. My father stood by my side, looking at what was happening to me, with near no sign of concern or emotion, but deep inside, I knew he couldn't take it. Assassins had to learn how to give up on things that are closest to their hearts, and show no signs of regret. Proof that my father was a really strong man.

It all ended when I coughed up some black liquid, which I deduced would be the new colour of my blood. My body went completely still, and I faced the wall with eyes wide, gazing into the emptiness. My mouth and nose was bleeding black blood, while my limbs refused to move.

That was it then. I, voluntarily, had chosen to die the most horrible death ever. I had absolutely no vital signs, pulse was not detectable, heart not beating. But still, my father just looked at my body, a face wearing a serious expression. Then he broke the silence.

"I'll prepare breakfast. Have a good sleep," and then he went off into another room, made his bed, and hit the hay.

The next morning, my father went to the kitchen, put some oil in a heated pan, then cracked an eggshell, allowing its contents to hit the pan and make a wonderful sizzling sound.

Snap. Snap.

"Good morning to you too, Kaguya! I'm cooking your favourite omelettes!" my father raised his voice.

In the secluded bedroom, I managed to use my own strength to break free from the really strong bonds of duct tape. Pulling whatever was left sticking to my arms were nowhere near as painful as what I had experienced the previous night. By instinct, I reached to take my inhaler, and breathed some of it medical air into my lungs.

All it did was make me cough, which in turn, made me realise how big a headache I had.

"Oh... dad..." I struggled into the kitchen.

"Now, now, daughter," my dad said, his eyes never leaving the pan he was holding, "you should stay in the bed till the pain wears off. It'll only be a few more minutes."

"Won't... won't painkillers help?" I could barely make the words audible.

"Well," he put down the pan, lowered the fire, and then used a spatula to scoop the omelette into a plate, "it's worth a shot," and with that, he went to the fridge and popped open a can of beer. Tiger, his favourite.

I took a few mouthfuls, and spat it all out. "Gosh, what kind of a father are you? You know I can't stand beer," the beer waking me up, reducing a bit of the pain.

"The caring type," came his sarcastic reply, "and the type who obeys his daughter, even if she's about to die. Anyway, would you like some toast with the egg?"

"Sure, thanks," my hands never leaving my head, "it'd be nice. The pain's fading, and anyway, no matter how much you dislike the fat dad, I'm alive."

"Damn, there goes some money I could use for myself," he joked, while taking some of the bread from the toaster.

"Too bad," I smiled while he took the toast and put the omelette over it.

"Heh. Well, now that it worked, you actually think it'd make a difference? After all, you've already taken eighteen with your special gifts."

"Well, without those 'special gifts', the both of us wouldn't be on the run now, would we?"

"True, true," my dad took a sip of the whatever beer was remaining in the can.

"Anyway, my breathing's good, right arms even better than what my left could ever be, and my eye colour's changed. Yet the hair's still the same."

"Eye colour?" he inspected closer, "black? How boring is that? Damn, now you're gonna have to keep the white hair."

"Of course I will. It's the only thing that separates me from this damned society," I cursed.

"Now, don't be so worked up. You no longer have those gifts, darling. They'll accept you now. I like this so society, you know," he took a gulp, "But I like guns and 'splosives better," he added.

I chuckled. This, was our happy family. My mother, the one woman whom I've always wanted to meet, has left us for a place far better, while my father and I were enjoying life by running from cops and working for an underground organisation, Hell.

Such a cheesy name, yet its deeds were so treacherous, even I had to deem them worthy of being called evil. Many guns for hire work under Hell, as the pay they give for such normal everyday assassinations were way above market pricing, only that they chose to kill those who only don't seem worthy of life, or they get the best to kill, the best. It was good business under Hell, and my father and I were actually happy that we were under them leading a good, if not too carefree life.

Beep. Beep.

Here comes the next mission. My father flipped open his phone, and read the text message, then threw the phone over to me.

Documents. Fuyuki Central Building. 14th floor. Third on the right. No witnesses. By 1800.

Then the phone rang, and I threw it back to my father.

"Kariya."

"The serum worked?"

"A-firmative."

"Strong kid you got there. We'll be monitoring the mission. We'd like to see her in action."

"You got it." And the line went dead.

"Darling," my father caught my attention while I was still eating breakfast, "le head freakshows will be watchin', say they wanna see you in action."

I finished my toast, then took out my Mark 7.

"All set."

When evening hit, my father and I already had finished tea at a café near Fuyuki Central. The plan was simple: my father had already rented a hotel room a good 500 metres away from the building, supplying me information on the area as his scope did its work. I, with my 'enhancements', would go in and take whatever was needed. Sadly, the information given was so vague, I wouldn't know if it were a safe I'd be breaking, or a person I'd be sending to a better place. That was the way Hell did it.

The time was exactly 1715 hours when I entered the area. Security was terrible, so no lives had to be taken, though one really interested fellow had to be forced to sleep with a hit at the back of the head. Using the shadows, I ran through the aisles stealthily. Since it was an office building, I was fairly sure none of its workers bothered with the stairs, but cameras would be a problem. Then my phone vibrated, not a good timing,

Cameras off. Move it.

Thanks, dad.

As I ran through the stairs, I wondered how Hell would be watching me if the cameras were down. Or maybe the guard behind the cameras got bribed by Hell. Too easy.

When I reached my destination on the bloody 14th floor, I was surprised that I was not as tired as I would be. Noticing my heavier breathing, I instinctively reached to my left pocket, only to realise I have no more need of an inhaler. Sighing, I tried to get more used to the works of the serum.

When I reached the room's door, I was disappointed when there were still people in the vicinity. Five men, a table, and a single briefcase, which I guessed was the documents I had to get. No choice then, no witnesses. I pulled out my Mark 7, and then loaded the suppressor. I opened the door, and pulled the trigger on one of the nice looking guys in a business suit, making him drop onto the table.

"Shit!" one of them exclaimed, "it's Hell, dammit!" And with that, the nice looking guys pulled out handguns of their own, surprising me.

When they pulled out their guns though, my adrenaline rush kicked in. I moved faster than I ever could, knocking out the man closest to me. When one of his comrades shot his Colt. 45, I pulled the knocked out fellow and used him as a good shield. Blood spurted out from the back, staining my outfit. No worries, I'd throw it away sometime anyway. I aimed and shot at the man who almost killed me, and was surprised when he anticipated the shot, hitting the deck before the bullet hit. Two others from the side aimed and started to shoot, where I myself had to drop in order to stay alive.

Then the adrenaline rush in my body acted again, making me move faster yet again. I grabbed the arm of the man who dropped to the deck, and twisted it. He screamed in pain, but I had no time for remorse. I pulled him with his broken arm, supplying more pain, and shot him in the head, ending his suffering. When one of the two lay down in order to get a clear shot of me, I pushed the table and hit the man, staggering him. That was the golden opportunity that let me shoot him twice, one in the leg, the other in the head when he dropped. The last man just continued to shoot blindly, while I took good cover below the table.

The minute I heard a few clicks, I stood up and shot the man in the chest, stopping his beating heart. It really is too dumb a move to empty the entire cartridge into a target that you can't clearly aim at. Inspecting my body, I was surprised to see just a few stains of blood, not a single shot. I may start liking these upgrades of mine. I took the briefcase, and was tempted to open it. Then I stopped, as I knew Hell was watching me, and if I opened it, my life would not end well. So I just picked it up, and got out of the building as easily as I entered it.

When I got out of my disguise, and walked the streets acting normal, I bumped into a stranger, or rather, a stranger bumped into me.

"Nice briefcase you have there," he commented, "mind if we exchange?"

Normally, you'd think that this would be extremely strange, but I knew this man's intentions: he was under Hell, and that briefcase he had would be my payment.

"Sure, why not?" I gave him the entire briefcase, while taking my payment in return.

"Nice work, they are impressed," he continued, "with both the performance, and that you managed to survive. We'll contact you again sometime. Oh, and a consolation prize."

He reached into his pocket, then gave me a wallet. Opening it, I saw a card with a picture, a graceful bird.

"Nice work, Hummingbird."

Wow, so I got Branded, meaning I'm officially under Hell, where they'd contact me personally. My father was already branded, and given the codename Dragoon. For me to be Branded as well, was an achievement.

My name is Kaguya Minamimoto, codename Hummingbird. And I'm an official assassin of Hell.


Basic Summary: Kaguya takes a serum that makes her some form of a super-soldier. She carries out a duty, and gets codenamed Hummingbird, now trusted by the secret organisation Hell.

Sorry, couldn't resist, after reading a couple of Captain America and Avengers comics.

Right, this is just a small look on Kaguya's past, and be warned, there are going to be quite a number of these past look backs, not only Kaguya's. I'm going to change the past of many of the non-OCs, so yeah, but don't worry. Not all will be too violent.