'Assassins of the Hinata'

Disclaimer: Ken Akamatsu wrote 'Love Hina' and he owns the rights. This tale written for fun, and I seek no re-dress from it.

Do not read this story if any of the following items offend you!

Warning: Contains extremely violent scenes of a very graphic nature and excessive bloodletting; incest, and children born from incest; plus, extreme use of insulting language.

Writer's notes: There will be no chapter titles.

-Chapter 2-

Early evening, an open air onsen at an ancient Japanese manse called the Hinata.

"Shit, I need to get fucking laid," said Shinobu in a very irritated tone while seated on a short stool. Washing herself, she had hopes that the man of the house would be home soon. Cooking for him was one of her favorite things to do when not out on a sanction.

Other colleagues were with her, and also of a similar mind.

"If you stopped dressing loli all the time, I'm sure we could get our resident man to scratch your itch," said Naru who sat one stool over and stared at her huge boobs. It was a chance to see if she had crossed the line or not.

Having moved only marginally on her own stool, something then flew at the brunette from out of nowhere.

THWIP!

She had.

A large American Bowie-type knife stuck out from the post near where Naru's head had been seconds before.

"Oops!"

"Oops, my ass," quipped the petite chef with a smirk having sent a message.

"Trying to get yourself killed, Naru?" queried Kitsune the ash-blonde sharpshooter in a voice that could have dried out a martini, "You, more than anyone else here, should know that there are three things which will set our petite chef off." Having said that a manner of cold import, the subject of the resident house manager was a ticklish matter to her as well. Nearby in its custom shoulder holster, sweetie hung on a peg and awaited its mistress.

All eyes here fixed their gaze upon the Fox, as she usually had never said that many words to them in a single day. However, the subject of Keitaro usually opened her up a bit.

"I guess I went a bit overboard in my testing our petite chef this evening," responded Naru who looked over at the woman who never missed, unless she wanted to. With a smile, she easily pulled the knife from the post and in respect for the woman who threw it at her, handed it back to her hilt first.

"You think," said Kitsune who knew of the deal between the brunette and the petite chef. It was she who had set it up to monitor Shinobu's vicious temper.

A couple of the others raised their eyebrows at that remark. They too knew of the deal between the three assassins.

Having gotten comfortable in the spa, Kitsune set her fearsome .44 near her, opened a fresh box of cigarettes, pulled one out and lit it. Taking a big drag, she sat back and looked up at the sky. Inside her, something had been boiling ever since she became involved with the Urashima clan and the lone male in their family. It was something that was about to boil over.

"I'll say you did," said Kaolla the foreign blonde genius killer, "Now, if you do not want her to hit your skull the next time, please enlighten us again about Shinobu's three 'no-no's." The last word which came out of her mouth had a childish lilt to it. Two miniature turtle bots hovered by, one gave her a massage and the other poured her a glass of wine.

"One, never tease Shinobu about her very large breast size. Two, never hit on her, since she is straight. And, three…," interjected Motoko already seated in the onsen. She had waited for the brunette to sit next to her. Her love for the man of the house was extremely intense, as it was with her older sister. However, she was bisexual and had Naru train her so she could go after the woman she really wanted.

"In her presence, never make a disparaging remark, no matter how mild, about Keitaro," stated Naru in a sing-song manner. Of all present, she did not grab a towel when stepping into the spa. You might say she was a bit of an exhibitionist.

Not really upset with her, Shinobu just gave the brunette a simple nod and remarked, "you really are a rotten cunt." Of all the assassins present, her vocabulary was quite wide-ranging in the use insults which she refrained from when Keitaro was present.

Naru shrugged off the comment and piped in, "guilty as charged, sweetie."

A snicker from the other assassins, and a slight smile from Kitsune before it disappeared. The sharpshooter seemed to have something else on her mind.

"I too wish to never hear any ill remarks about my beloved Keitaro-sama," said Motoko sternly as Naru plunked herself down into the soothing water.

"Hey," quipped Naru as she looked around at the others, "If Urashima Hinata hadn't dropped that edict down on us about her grandson, I would gladly allow him to fuck me. Might even help since I'm also an empath." After she said that, she placed her hand on top of Motoko's. The Samurai took the hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

No reaction from Shinobu, as she mumbled, "She is too good at getting under my skin, the fucking bitch." However, the petite assassin understood that Naru could heal the memory of the man she had fallen deeply in love with.

Kaolla looked a bit thoughtful as she stepped into the onsen. Her comment to Naru's statement was, "I agree with that last part, but I would still like to know who had tried to kill him or wanted him dead and for what purpose. Haruka and Kanako are not here ask, and they are related to him so that makes it quite difficult. Also, Mutsumi knew him before the 'incident', as she and the other two were involved with him romantically. Motoko here does not know as much as her Onee-san who is down in Kyoto right now, she too has had a physical relationship with him before his amnesia. Lastly, neither his Kaa-san nor his Oba-san will say anything."

After Kaolla had finished, Motoko nodded in total agreement with her assessment. There was something that she knew about his aunt, but Tsuruko warned her to stay mum about it and to never broach the subject until Keitaro had regained his memory.

"For now, I'd leave it there, as I'm not even allowed to touch or go near him for some reason," said Naru who raised her hand to stop the Princess from going any further, "With as scary as Kanako can be when it comes to her precious Onii-chan, we had better drop it until a more appropriate time. It's a good thing she's not here, because Kei-kun or Mutsumi are not around to keep her dark-side from surfacing."

"Before I shut up and end this thread for now," said Kaolla as she looked over at the brunette, "You are the only one I know who could fix what is wrong with him."

"True," said Shinobu who just had to jump in, "I hated cleaning up the mess that Yoko made when she strangled the guy who someone had paid to further mess with his mind."

"I'm still looking into that one personally," responded a now seething Princess.

It was quiet for a few minutes as what they had just shared sunk in.

Everyone here knew how close all five of the Urashima women were to the man who lived with them. As stated, one had a deep secret, two wore special rings and Haruka, as was his sister, kept quite close to him.

The assassins here also understood that there was something extra special about Keitaro, but only one present has had any firsthand knowledge of how special. Unlike Motoko, their knowledge of what Keitaro had upstairs before the so-called incident was spurious at least, and speculative at best.

Silent, but not by choice, Hina had bound Motoko to an oath to keep what she knew to herself. As with her older sister, that oath ate at her every day, because the 'incident' as it was later known, had occurred the day before she had finally decided to give herself to him. However, since then, she has kept her virginity intact for the day when he finally re-acquired his once formidable intellect.

Seething like her blonde associate, Shinobu unwittingly targeted the brunette with another barb when she uttered, "You'd fuck anything that moved, stupid bitch." Her undirected rage had an extremely derisive tone to it, while she rinsed her hair with a bucket of warm water. She really reached deep for that one, as none of the women here could be called by that term.

Stupid, that is…

A smirk, a giggle, a nod and a wink in reply. It was not enough for the brunette to respond to in a violent manner, as everyone acknowledged her frustration with the status quo.

When no vehement response came from Naru about Shinobu's caustic insult, an unforeseen statement proceeded from the mouth of an unexpected source.

"How in the fuck do you tell the only man who lives here," started Kitsune in a soft tone, then with the next few words her volume increased, "that he has living with him some of the world's most dangerous assassins under his roof." Unlike her usual monotone, her voice had a lot of emotion mixed into it.

The surprise from the others was incalculable.

In the spa now, Shinobu took a seat next to the newly distraught ashen-haired sharpshooter, who then continued, "If you do, I'd sure as fuck would like to know. And how do you tell the kindest, sweetest and most gentle man that he has wormed his way into all of our hearts. That we also love him so very much." Nearly shrieking out the last part of her statement, Kitsune began to cry.

When the other four saw, as well as heard her for themselves, they all knew that she was very serious about him. Male/female relationships had meant nothing to her, until she met Keitaro.

In empathy with the ash-blonde sharpshooter, the petite chef gave her a shoulder to cry on.

Five highly intelligent women just sat there and soaked in silence after Kitsune's emotional words, and as they bathed, no one had an answer for her.

Shinobu grabbed a cigarette and her lighter, lit it and took a big drag.

Even Naru kept quiet, as her instincts clued the empath that all of the facts were not in yet. "I hope we all find out soon," she whispered and then went silent again.

When their bath finished, everyone got out of the onsen, dried off and went back inside the Hinata.

As she grumbled, Shinobu bound her large breasts and took on her loli persona once again. Nevertheless, out of all the assassins present, she truly had had enough.

"Fuck that Hina bitch," she hissed and lit another cigarette out on her balcony. Although as hot-headed as they came, she would gladly go against the Urashima matriarch's edict and have Naru heal Keitaro. But like her brunette teammate, she would not do so unless pushed beyond her boundaries. Which were now very thin.

In her room, Naru had begun a relationship with Motoko to train her so she could go after a more difficult prize. The Fox has been in her crosshairs since the two had met.

The tall Samurai assassin, as did her older sister, enjoyed the company of women. And like Tsuruko, she would allow only one man into her bed. As stated, that would have to wait.

The brunette, was very good at training other women in the sensual and carnal arts. Since Naru had moved into the Hinata, the assassins here she found were extraordinarily special having had sex with three of them so far. Men and women could not resist her when she drew near, as a touch would render them quite submissive. That said, and even after having had many lovers, there was something in the aura of the only male resident which made her want to submit to him.

"I won't be able to contain her for much longer," Naru whispered before her tongue carefully licked the virgin warrior's pussy. It was Shinobu who had her worried the most, because the petite knife thrower had earned her respect, as well as her friendship and loyalty.

Nearby, having taken a pill prescribed by the resident chemist, Kitsune went straight to bed and fell asleep right away. Her dreams of Keitaro were quite vivid and of a filthy nature.

Ever the workaholic, Kaolla was down in her lab 'burning the midnight oil'. She too could not get Keitaro off her mind.

In the morning, their man would be home and they would all have a chance to smile again.

-Scenario #6:

-Champs Elysée- Paris, France

Mid-morning inthe 'City of Lights', a certain drama that involved four people was about to play itself out. Only one would live to see the famous city lit up that evening.

Our drama begins…

Seated at bistro under a clear blue sky, a beautiful woman of obvious Asian descent broke off a piece of her croissant, buttered it and ate the portion with a smile.

The server poured her some fresh strong coffee, which she absolutely adored. No coffee satisfied her stringent tastes as the ones brewed in this city. She even had it imported back home.

Enough of that for now…

Across the street from her at another patisserie, she spied three people who sat at table that looked rather mismatched. The two males of obvious Russian descent drank coffee, while a middle-aged female also of Asian extraction had her nose buried in both a tablet and smart phone. Her extraction was quite different, as she was Chinese, and the person who observed her was Japanese.

From past associations, the look of the two men and their mannerisms, in her mind marked them as either ex-KGB or modern FSB. Well-trained and quite observant as well.

However, she acted as a tourist which would draw no attention from the two brutish-looking men.

From her own intel, it noted that the Asian mark had hooked up with many such Russian intelligence agents. They sided with the underworld as a way to make extra hard currency on the side, especially ex-KGB operative.

'Too young though,' she thought while listening to the two men talk. She understood their language and had pinned down who they belonged too.

She smiled.

The middle-aged woman wore a scowl that could curdle milk as it looked like what she read on one of her devices had displeased her. The woman then dialed a number on her smart phone.

'So typical of that stupid Oba,' thought the young woman at the bistro seemingly oblivious to her surroundings. With sunglasses and a large hat with a red ribbon on, she believed that the other woman would not recognize her even though their paths had crossed many times.

Hearing the loud conversation, she eavesdropped in on a conversation that her target was having with someone in Mandarin. A language the young woman knew quite well.

BRRRR! BRRRR!

A phone rang from one of the men seated there. His device was a bit older and played a dreary old Soviet anthem.

'Such poor taste,' thought the young woman with a giggle.

After a short call, the man hung up, slipped the phone into his pocket and motioned to the other two that they had to leave. The agent placed a small pile of Euros onto the table as he and his companions made their way over to a four-door sedan.

The woman did not hurry, as she too finished and paid her fare.

Mounting a small motorbike, she started the conveyance and headed off.

On a side street, she had caught up to her targets caught in traffic on a parallel street.

In front of a higher-end apartment complex sat the vehicle with the two Russian agents inside. While it idled, their passenger had gone inside to retrieve some documents. The windows were open as the motorbike pulled alongside.

Neither felt a thing as their lives were silently taken from them by tiny darts.

Parking her bike in an open spot nearby, the young woman stepped up to the main entrance and pulled a small device with a three-eyed symbol on it. Flipping a switch, she touched the key pad and heard a click. With a smile, she opened the door and went inside. From her intelligence briefing, she knew which suite to go to.

A stroke of good fortune met her as the target condo door was slightly ajar as if the occupant would only be there a short while.

Behind an office desk in a low-backed chair, sat the older woman who stared in disbelief at the screen before her.

"Where is the money?" she asked before a slightly sting left her bereft of any moment.

The chair swung around and her eyes filled with terror.

"Ni Hao, Pao," said the woman with a sunny smile on her face, "You will be dead in a minute as are your companions outside. I told you that I would kill you if you ever dealt in human trafficking and child pornography again."

The last few words went unheard as the woman in the chair was quite dead and her eyes stared at nothing.

Pushing the corpse to the floor, the woman took a pack off her back and sat it on the desk. Unzipping the main compartment, she pulled out a multi-terabyte portable drive and plugged it into the USB port. Pressing a small button on the side, she saw a blue light come on and wait as instructed until it turned green. When it turned green, she pulled the plug and returned it to her pack. Reaching into another compartment, she took out another slightly smaller machine and plugged it in. Doing as instructed, she slid a small lever and waited for a while light to flash three times before it turned red. She pressed a simple three-digit code into a keypad and waited for the timer to hit zero.

"Kaolla is such a marvel," said the woman thoroughly impressed.

At zero, she pulled the plug and then turned it off. On the computer screen, a black 'skull and crossbones' with a three-eyed triangle in the forehead, signaled that she had just released a very powerful and specifically targeted computer virus onto the internet.

Without a bit of remorse for the dead, the young woman departed and left behind three corpses for someone else to clean up.

Two days later, on a Japan-bound flight from Orly, a beautiful woman of Japanese descent seated in first-class pulled two pictures from her bag. One was of a pretty young woman and the other was of a young man. She kissed the photo of the young man and said, "See you soon, Kei-kun."

Personnel Spec's: Otohime, Mutsumi. Age: 29

Specialties: manufacturer and expert in the usage of natural biological agents and industrial chemicals; usage of blowguns and spring-loaded plastic pistols; world-class archer who had qualified for the Olympic team, but decided not to compete for unspecified reasons; to get close to a target and not raise any suspicion, she uses a pleasant or ditzy demeanor. Kill without remorse for her targets.

Training: PhD's in Bio-Organic Chemistry and Pharmacology; PhD in Language Studies as she speaks nine languages fluently and has working knowledge of fifteen others; multi-Dan Black-Belt in both Okinawan and Japanese Karate, expert also in Japanese and Brazilian Jujitsu, Israeli Krav Maga and Russian Systema.

Comments: Known as the 'Brown Recluse, she would send one of the deadly arachnids to her mark and eliminate them soon afterwards. Efficient and quick, would also be terms to describe her, as her victims would usually dead before they knew what had hit them.

Verdict: Given free agent status.

-In an upscale neighborhood of Tokyo-

Seated in her dining room, Urashima Yuriko was beside herself with much anguish and loneliness. The man she loved more than any other in this world lie asleep in a bed which was not hers. His once wonderful mind had been rent from him through no fault of his own. Which caused mother and son not to connect in their usual way.

It took every ounce of her will not to disobey her mother's edict about her son. But she knew that woman to be as stubborn as they came. If he was in his right mind, she believed him to be the only person who could put her to shame.

"My son," cried Yuriko as tears fell from her beautiful face, "I will do whatever it takes to bring you back to me. Our vows compel me to do that at the very least."

It had been just one day since he had arrived home, and since his sister was overseas on a dual sanction, Keitaro would stay with her. He could have stayed with her sister, but the knowledge of what they had created together would be too much trauma for his fragile mind right now.

As she attempted to conquer her grief, Yuriko remembered with consolation that the assassins at the Hinata all loved her son. None of the newer ones knew Keitaro when his brilliant mind was intact.

Be that as it may, there was one who she knew could restore him, and although her mother had forbidden it, a solution had at least been found.

"I need some volatility, the right timing and the perfect setting," she whispered her mind had been made up, "Mutsumi and Kana-chan should return at the same time. I just need to call the right person who loves my son almost as much as me."

That was when Yuriko went into her office and fired up her computer. With encryption provided by the best, she knew that a certain foreign Princess had come through for her.

"Thank you, Kaolla," she said and brought up the profiles of the five who presently resided at her families' ancestral home. She knew them all by heart, but there was something that Yuriko just wanted to go over just in case she had missed any little hint.

Having been on her mind from the beginning, she knew there was one above the others who would not hesitate to disregard the ban if push came to shove.

"Perfect," whispered Yuriko as the image of the tiniest assassin she knew came onto her screen. It had been there for a while, but she wanted to make absolutely sure before she initiated her scheme.

"I will have my son and lover back very soon," she whispered as her smile grew.

No one, not even her precious and very dangerous mother, would ever see it coming.

"Subtlety is the key," added Yuriko who shut off her computer and went to bed.

Not too far away, an elderly woman sensed that her families' nightmare would soon be over.

"I will allow it," whispered Hina as she knelt in front of a small altar.

-Scenario #7:

-Toronto, Canada-

A beautiful evening as someone in a cloak walked down a well-lit boulevard. The cowl covered their head and obscured the face as they approached young people re-enacting their favorite characters at a cosplay contest.

Not caring one iota as she passed by all dressed in solid black, her costume drew many admirers from an anime convention which was at a nearby hotel. Many did not realize that the cat on her shoulder was real and meant to be seen as a harbinger. Crazed beyond belief, this personality was loosed for only one purpose and one purpose only, as what they did usually sickened those who did not know the real her. So, it was fortunate for the onlookers that no one saw her face, because those who generally did died quite hideously and painfully. This state of mind had been let out and it was a dark personality, which relished the sight of blood, and loved to hear the screams of her victim, would sing to her this night of their impending demise.

Tonight, would be one for her to conduct a new symphony of death as her favorite implement carved away another human life.

Not too far away in the third-floor apartment of a non-descript building, a middle-aged man checked his revolver one more time. Not used to handling such a weapon, he was more comfortable with money laundering and moving large sums of cash around. However, a certain plastic box containing one of the world's deadliest spiders had sent him into hiding.

"Pao, you stupid bitch. Why?" hissed the man as he looked at the picture of the woman he once loved, "We had plenty of money to live anywhere we wanted but you just had to piss her off. Otohime had warned you and now you are dead."

Throughout the rest of the evening, he avoided anything that even hinted of his late girlfriend and was thankful for his own resources. Cut-rate rooms in dingy boardinghouses he had set up for many years around the world, but would it be enough.

He knew that Otohime had a female partner who was as sick as they came. He had even met her once in her sane guise, but if that who was after him, he knew he would die a slow agonizing death.

"If I can only survive tonight," he whispered, shut his computer off and laid down.

Outside in a darkened alley, the young lady looked up and saw a light go off. The fire escape was no problem for her as she was now outside the bedroom window.

A fanatical grin.

Shortly afterwards, a lamp came on.

The padding of feline feet as it walked across bare skin and rubbed up again a sleeping face.

"Huh," said the man woken out of a dead sleep. Not able to move because of his bonds, he saw the cat as it walked to the end of the bed. Splayed out, his arms and legs were securely tied to the four posts. If that was not bad enough, he was now naked as well.

Then to his horror, he saw a certain face and knew what the person behind it was here for.

At the end of the bed stood a young woman dressed in Goth; which meant a calf-length black dress with lace shot through the whole of it, especially around the collar, sleeves and skirting; shiny lace up platform boots; a single scarlet ribbon which tied back her waist-length jet-black hair; and what really set her apart was the white makeup on her face with the descending black teardrop from her left eye. It marked her off as one the last member of the 'Four Faces of Death'. Of which she was the most feared. In her right hand, she held a sharpened men's straight razor and in her left, a ball gag.

"You will become my newest masterpiece," she said cocking her head with a hideous smile, "Too bad I can't take you home with me. As someone wants to send a message."

"Sick twisted cunt," was all he got to say as she shoved the ball gag in his mouth and pulled the strap around his head.

For the next few hours, no one heard the hideous shrieks of a man literally having his life carved away. It was a horrible way to die, as her hands were those of the finest sculptor.

A couple of days later, a young woman passed through customs on her way to her plane back to Japan. She had checked her cat in with the airline and her Kuro was safely boarded.

In first-class, she smiled at the picture of a young man and said, 'See you tomorrow, Onii-chan."

Because of the awful stench, Toronto police were sent to a room by the landlord who had come to check on a water leak.

When the door opened, the landlord and two officer of the RCMP lost their lunch after spotting a man's hide hung on a wall and his rotting, maggot-infested carcass still tied to the bed.

After removal, a weapon was never found.

On the plane, the young woman kissed the photo.

Personnel Spec's: Urashima, Kanako. Age: 20

Specialties: disposing of marks in very disturbing ways. Mostly by skinning the sanction's flesh away from their body in a slow and tortuous manner. Utilizes a scalpel which was a present from her female lover. On occasions, she also uses men's straight razor, chainsaws, saber saws, blow torches and acetylene torches.

Training: second year student at Tokyo University, majoring in business; multi-Dan Black-Belt in both Okinawan and Japanese Karate, expert also in Israeli Krav Maga and Russian Systema.

Comments: Known as the 'Fourth Face of Death'; she has a split personality which the sane side of her keeps under control. The insane side is violent in the extreme, but with one exception; has an extreme 'brother complex'.

Verdict: Given free agent status.

Last two reported sanctions complied respectfully by Urashima Haruka for presentation.

-End of Chapter-