Disclaimer: I don't own Love Hina. However, I am currently holding it in an undisclosed location. Bidding starts at $50,000.
Chapter 2: See Keitaro Run! Run, Keitaro, Run!
Keitaro never quite got the hang of the Molmolian language.
Even after becoming the notorious Harem Master and being forced to learn several languages other than Japanese out of necessity for political endeavors, and even after spending years with his first two wives, who spent hours trying to teach him with…unorthodox methods (he never got far enough into baseball janken before the expanses of caramel skin either rendered him unconscious or drove him into a state that all his wives rather enjoyed), he just was never able to wrap his brain or mouth around the linguistics.
Molmolian was a lilting, rolling melody of words, more of a tune or song than any discernable alphabet. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised that the Molmolian natives had evolved more complex voice boxes or greater tongue articulation to achieve the octaves and trilling innate to the language.
…actually that made a lot of sense considering the techniques Amalla and Kaolla used when they double-teamed.
But that was neither the here or there. The truly strange fact of the matter was that although Keitaro never got pat-down the inflections of Molmolian, he was able to perfectly pronounce and decipher one critical phrase that in all likeliness cemented his feelings on Molmol's language and its culture in general.
And that was, "Kill the infidel."
Literally translated, it meant, "Lay his unclean body of clay upon a nest of fire ants, and may his flesh be flayed from his bones before being sat upon by an elephant while his soul is forever tormented by Kali and never take new life."
But for all intents and purposes, and less pressure on a lad's already fraying sanity, we shall just refer to the abridged version.
Oh, and there was one more phrase that Keitaro instantly knew upon mention –
Duck and cover.
If you had asked Keitaro before today, he would have honestly claimed he had never been attacked by zealous religious fundamentalists with a degree in blowing shit up.
He also would have claimed he had never been smacked in the face with the eviscerated carcass of a fish before either.
He missed those simpler days.
When the cheaply-constructed missile slammed into the table, instead of just reducing the furniture to its rudimentary components and sending the royal family in every direction, it gained the added bonus of showering the once pristine dining hall in chunks of food. It was there Keitaro soon became suffocated by a halibut jammed in his mouth as he was bodily flung to a side of the hall. Ripping the suspect aquatic life from his teeth, he discovered a scene that in all his wildest dreams and darkest nightmares he never thought he'd bare witness to.
Due to the lengthy and violent history of Molmol, where coup de tats, rebellions, and insurgences were as regular as the rising sun, and you could find a violent uprising from crazed military-sects underneath pretty much every rock and blade of grass, the royal family, and indeed much of the population, were adept with some form of combative measures.
Being that the current royal family had been put though no less than five raids, two batches of so-called 'freedom fighters,' and an airstrike from a disgruntled R&D employee within the last month, they were easily more equipped to fight off invaders then any bodyguards ever could. In fact, it was widely implied that the royal guards were there more to protect the royalty's attackers than their actual wards.
With widened eyes and a heartbeat that would probably burst his arteries in the next minute or so, Keitaro could see exactly why that theory had come to light.
Mana wasn't so surprising. She was a former international assassin, and it would be silly to assume that even after years of royal pampering her skills with garroting someone with dental floss would become rusty. The thing that did bug Keitaro somewhere in the back of his brain that wasn't going through massive convulsions was where the hell was she getting all those weapons from?
The handgun and dagger made sense; those could be hidden in her meticulous security suit. The ones that ignored the laws of mass and size were the glaive, broadsword, semi-automatic rifle, and…was that a grenade launcher? Where in the blazes was she keeping that?
Asoka was keeping pace with her sister-wife, fending off attackers in a martial arts style that resembled what Japanese housewives did when they wanted to keep some physical semblance of their younger selves. Her hands moved in a graceful but deadly fashion, her entire body a languid, fluid flow in anarchy. When one of the terrorists moved to stab her, she grabbed the offending wrist and, with a flick of hers, sent the man in a gentle-starting but brutal-ending arc that resulted in a crack that Keitaro was afraid wasn't just the assailant's bones but the bloody floor itself.
Mamba dismissed any approach of grace or elegance, and put his greater size and weight to use. With a flippant grunt, he clothes-lined two of the attackers at once before smashing their heads together with a comedic sound like two coconuts clonking together. Barring further rebuttal, he waded back into the foray.
Rubah was handling herself well, and Keitaro reiterated to himself to not be caught alone in the same room as the madly cackling woman. That bullwhip looked like it hurt. And why were her opponents grinning and drooling like that? What was wrong with these people?
If it weren't for the idea he could be gutted at the time, Keitarou would have found Putri's skirmish hilarious. Though she was barely half the size of any of the terrorists, she was actually doing quite well. It probably had to do with the attackers underestimating her due to her falsely assumed age, but she was a full-grown woman…with a frying pan…and her meal had been ungratefully destroyed. And no one messed with a housewife armed with cooking implements; Keitaro learned that from his mother. So, with a squeaky cry of vitriolic rage that, if anyone managed to actually hear her voice, translated to, "Eat my Teflon fury, bitch!", Putri beaned the individual upside the head, snorted in stubborn victory and went after her next victim.
Su and Amalla's battle were probably the most terrifying, but Keitaro never got the chance to observe their combative capabilities because a rather scary and angry-looking terrorist was heading his way with a scimitar, and Keitaro was pretty sure the man wasn't about to carve out some sushi from the fish he dislodged.
No, that would make his life too easy.
Amalla had always been interested in what her little sister uncovered. Kaolla had always found the best things – whether it was food, weapons, animals, or (in this most recent case) boys. It was like the little mad scientist had an internal radar system that zoomed in on the most awesome things life had to offer.
Amalla wasn't a bitch. Though Amalla did feel somewhere in her heart that she would only be second best to a girl nearly eight years her junior, she couldn't begrudge Kaolla for that. The psychotic cutie was just too happy to try and act superior to those around her, and her infectious attitude was almost impossible to beat. And Amalla didn't mind that at all.
She always made sure her darling baby sister had her fun with whatever she found first. And it was hard to be jealous of a girl that was always so eager to share. Amalla thought Su would actually be more adamant over the possession of her new husband. But…according to the girl's attitude and naivety towards romance, Amalla felt like she would get the first stab at the screaming groom when it came right down to it.
And the boy wasn't really all that bad. He was cute, and had that oh-so-very corruptible aura around him which drove her inner core of fire wild. Not all that buff, but if he could keep up with Kaolla even for this short period of time than his stamina…Amalla shivered at the very inclination of 'night sessions.' Yes…Keitaro would do quite nicely…
So when the newest bunch of slack-jawed idiots who thought they knew what was better for the royal family's lineage than the royal family themselves, Amalla knew she had to stake her claim in order to prove her validity to Kaolla and the effectiveness for a proposal of a… 'joint account.'
Dodging under a spray of automatic gunfire, Amalla hid behind an overturned section of the remaining furniture. Patting at her attire, she found what she was looking for and retrieved a long, expertly crafted flute. She grunted when more bullets hit the table.
"I do not wish to hurt you, princess Amalla," the terrorist stated while he crept up for a better vantage-point.
"Really? Because the whole missile barrage kinda proves otherwise."
"The Loquacious Order of Objectified Neophytes understands that to protect the noble heritage of Molmol, sometimes harsh chastisement is in order to clear the chaff from the wheat."
Awesome. They really were a bunch of LOONs. Just what she needed – self-satirical freedom fighters. "And you think that bringing an outsider into the family will ruin that?"
The terrorist sidled up to the table and carefully leaned over. "You understand much. Just stay out of our way, and we will remove the stain from your glorious presence."
Amalla tilted her neck up, looking at the man with the gun in her face out of the corner of her eyes. "And lose the chance to sink my teeth into that cutie?" Her lips spread out into a cruel parody of a smile. "Nah, I'll pass." Her mouth covered the flute, blew, and a sweet array of notes floated out.
"Allow me this counteroffer."
Ivory teeth clamped onto his head.
He threw out one ethnic cleansing. She raised him one hungry, hungry albino crocodile. Now, usually this would require a third-party's judgment, but as the terrorist was currently being given a guided tour of a one-ton reptile's digestive track, we can cleanly declare who won the round.
While Shirou enjoyed his tasteful if loud meal, Amalla turned to where her soon-to-be-future hubby was.
And saw that some terrorist they had missed was attempting to fillet and castrate him. Well, that just wouldn't do! She needed that body part to stay whole and attached! Huffing at the sheer inconvenience of it all, Amalla marched to the site of a boy trying to keep his little buddy right where he should be.
Su could almost cry. Here she was so happy with her new suami and her family having such a great meal together, and then those meanies with the various weapons and death-threats had to go and ruin it. And she was having such a good time with her darling! How dare they try and destroy her happiness?
She was so lonely when she first arrived in Japan for her study-abroad program. It was meant to enrich her cultural experiences by living in a foreign country until she had assimilated it, and then return to Molmol a better candidate for the throne. But she was still a little girl in an unknown land far from home, and even though her stay was to be in the estate of one of the royal family's lifelong comrades, she was still completely out of her depth.
So it was with great joy that she had found such wonderful friends in the tenants of Hinata-sou, and especially happy when Motoko appeared, a person who could keep up with her physically-draining antics with little more than an exasperated sigh and scolding frown.
And then her darling suami had appeared and everything was perfect. She would go back to Molmol, get officially hitched, return to Japan, and then use the inn as her base of operations for taking over the known free world! And she would have all the company she ever wanted and a playmate for the rest of her life!
And they wanted to deprive her of that.
This would not stand!
So it was with righteous fury, something that in such a lackadaisical person was utterly horrifying to contemplate, that Su was chasing a group of terrorists around with a handheld version of her positron blaster (originally made for the quick creation of toast), reverting anything the beam touched to base atoms as she screamed a litany of curses that barely passed the boundary of being 'poopie heads.'
However, she was soon knocked out of her girly-outrage when she heard her sweet suami crying for help.
Well…not so much help as casting down every god from every pantheon in existence, but the intended sentiments were there.
He needed her.
So, one volley of mini-nuke warheads at the retreating targets to teach them a lesson they wouldn't soon forget, and she steadied herself to mettle out swift and karmic vengeance against those that dare defy her.
From an outsider's perspective, the attempt at a snarl on her face was downright adorable. This would be something to laugh about later, they were sure.
Now if they could only find where those pesky limbs were for reattachment…
Keitaro never was much a religious person. He had never thought about being a Christian, Buddhist, or Shinto, the most popular of Japan's religions. He never believed in the idea that there was some big guy up in the sky with some ineffable plan to determine whether humanity was worthy of inhabiting the world, or if some great line of spirits molded our lives to fit the most appropriate niche in society.
No, he just never was that kind of person.
But at that moment he would swear to uphold this one vow – that whether he lived or died from this encounter, he would make sure to do just one thing.
And that would be to find every stinkin' god and goddess and kick them squarely between the legs or whatever crevices they may be sporting.
Because it was the only available option to truly explain just what he surmised of his place and function in the world.
It was also the easiest way to fend off the scary man with the scary blade.
The terrorist's eyes bugged out of his skull when Keitaro lodged his iron-laced, leather moccasins in his crotch. Dropping the sword and cradling his nubblies with both hands, he slowly sank to the floor, manly tears streaming down his face in unbelieving despair. Keitaro took the opportunity to scamper backwards, finding he could run no further when he slammed his back against one of the many columns in the dining hall.
A hairline fracture snaked its way up the marble.
Abject fear encompassed his brain, forbidding any actions other than to curse his misfortune and madly wonder just what he might have done in a past life to deserve as such. He must have been a completely irredeemable individual. Did he enjoy kicking puppies as a hobby, or maybe laugh at homeless people?
What actions could have constructed such a life?
Keitaro's latest actions constructed a deeper loathing and desire to disembowel inside the terrorist, who had finally managed to recover from his debilitating blow. Picking the scimitar back up, the man advanced on Keitaro, his legs still wobbling was the heinous counterattack. He growled something in that melodic language and raised the sword.
"Death to the infidel!*"
* "Lay his unclean body of clay upon a nest of fire ants, and may…etc. etc."
Three things happened at once. Su's missile exploded when it made contact with the floor next to Keitaro and the terrorist, Shirou dove to consume the man, and the terrorist's sword came swinging down.
The blast altered Shirou's flight path, so he knocked Keitaro over instead, his teeth tearing into the unlucky lad's new clothes. It also destabilized the column's structural integrity even further, so that when the sword came scything down and missed Keitaro's skull by a matter of inches, it cracked into the weakened column and destroyed it completely.
With a groaning whine, the column tilted, gained speed from gravity and fell on the terrorist, who almost managed to spew his death cry of, "Oh, Vishnu dam-" before he was rendered a squish mark on the floor.
The crash gave a sound of finality to the fighting. Everybody looked up from binding the defeated invaders to see Keitaro shakily stand on his feet. Dusty from the smashed marble and his clothes slightly ripped but none the worst for wear, Keitaro was simply glad it was over.
Then Shirou tugged on the material in his mouth, pleased at the taste and texture, and ripped the bottom half of Keitaro's outfit from his body, revealing that he had been going commando during the meal and ensuing fight.
The entire hall was silent.
Su squealed in virginal abashment and looked away, peeking through her fingers at the boy. A crimson blush had spread across her cheeks. "Suami! How bold! I never knew you to be so…majestic!" She didn't know why, but he was just so much…grander than his first flashing experience, and she couldn't help but feel a delightful rush.
Amalla openly drooled at the sight. Oh yes…this boy would be hers come hell or high water. She would not let such an exquisite catch slip through her fingertips.
The rest of the royal family was suitably impressed. At least he would not leave his wives wanting.
Keitaro's mind just broke down, his eyes going vacant, an insane laugh emerging from the darkened regions of his psyche and springing from his mouth. Disturbingly enough, it was becoming a habitual occurrence.
Keitaro fell backwards on the luxurious bedspread. He looked around, taking in his room for the rest of his stay. The room was as big as his entire house back in Tokyo, dome-shaped, with an open-ended balcony to the outside, letting the warm breeze in. It was Spartan in its furniture, making it seem even bigger in comparison. A dresser there, a pool that doubled as a bathing facility there, beautifully crafted sculptures of what he assumed were the country's deities placed about; and this was supposed to be just one of the many guest quarters!
He sighed. Just what had he gotten himself into? Just that morning he'd been unceremoniously punted from his house for not giving up on attending Tokyo U and had decided to give his grandmother's place a try, and now he was engaged/married(?) to some wealthy and powerful islander cutie with a penchant for doomsday weapons and trying to asphyxiate him with her tongue.
After the dinner debacle, Keitaro came to see that he really had landed in his own personal hell, as the royal family took the event completely in stride and (after finding him some new, tougher clothes) simply had a less eloquent dinner in a smaller dining hall meant for the servants. Actually, they had eaten dinner with the servants.
By the way the cooks, maids, and others had accepted the royal family without nary a questioning remark (aside from how much they wanted to eat), it was a common event. Several of the maids had swooped in like hawks on Su, squeeing over the impending wedding and wishing her the fondest future possible. Others engaged the king and his wives in small-talk, like they had been friends since forever. Mamba even burst out into a rich, rolling laugh when one of the cooks taught him a new, dirty limerick. Keitaro could only assume that the first dining hall was just for special occasions, and that Su's family made it a point to create a friendly relationship with their subjects.
So – crazy family, crazy servants, crazy wife. And now – crazy him.
At least he didn't have to worry about Su ravaging him before the – Keitaro shuddered – wedding. Her father had made it clear that they would sleep separately until the ceremony was officially said and done, and wouldn't take no for an answer, even when the girl had gained temporary control over the castle's weapons-defense system and threatened a tactical strike.
So at least Keitaro had one less thing to worry about. But the main problem was…he was getting married! To some girl he never met before! Or heard of! Or was even vaguely related to in any sense! What about his promise girl? What would he tell her? Keitaro doubted women fell for a man whose pick-up line was, "Let me just ditch the old ball and chain."
The only upside to all this was what his mother's reaction would probably be like. Her son was getting married, to someone of wealth, power, and taste (though the last was debatable), and she would finally have the chance to get some grandkids. Sure, she would most likely deck him for springing it on her and not giving her the chance to plan the wedding, but that would subside once it came to light that – 1) neither of his parents had to pay for it, and 2) this would probably be incentive for him to drop his stupid college obsession.
There was no way out of it. Between his parents, Su's parents, and a multitude of servants who had brought him aside during the dinner to whisper congratulations lined with death threats, he was damned if he did and especially damned if he didn't. Keitaro doubted there'd be a scrap of him left to execute after the conga line of Su's supporters got through with him.
He sighed. Really, what had he done?
"I don't know about doing anything wrong. I'd consider this a reward."
Keitaro shot up from bed and frantically looked around. He gagged at Amalla, who waved playfully at him. She was dressed in a more informal version of her dinner clothes that burned away any imagination Keitaro might have had left and replaced it with…something else.
Nope, definitely was not lusting after his wife's sister. Nope, no, nada, not at all.
"W-what are you doing here?" he said. "How did you even get in here?" As far as he knew, Mamba had placed guards in front of his room so that Su couldn't sneak her way in (and the unspoken bonus that Keitaro couldn't sneak out.)
"I bribed them," she said simply.
Damn lousy customer service!
"Ok…Well…What do you want?" he asked warily, backing away from the smoky woman so that they were on opposite sides of the bed.
Her eyebrows rose at his unsubtle outmaneuvering attempts and decided to just apply brute force. She slid across the bedspread with a serpentine grace, settling uncomfortably close to Keitaro. He gulped. "Is there something wrong with getting to know my future brother-in-law?"
Keitaro felt the last part was questionable, especially since her eyes had a glimmer like she was undressing him with them. That screaming voice from when they first met came back…with friends. "N-no, I guess not…"
"After all…" Amalla leaned into him, entwining her arm with his and smushing it into her well-developed chest. Keitaro swallowed. Oh dear heavens! She wasn't wearing a bra! "It's important to get along well with family. Skinship is vital."
"I-I see!" he laughed. Keitaro tried to retract his arm but found that it was firmly lodged in Amalla's valley and refused to come back. Amalla's smile widened, a tooth slipping out. "I guess that's important! So! Um…how…are you?"
"I'm fine…" she purred. "I'm so very happy that such a nice person is becoming my little sister's husband. She's just so naïve at times, so it's good that someone like you is there for her."
He blinked. "Really? Su…I mean, Kaolla?" Finding that he was treading on less dangerous soil, Keitaro relaxed. "What's she like? I mean besides the whole face-hugger thing."
"You really did just have this sprung on you, huh?" Amalla mused
"Well, that doesn't surprise me. The odds of having someone propose to Su in the traditional Molmolian way in a foreign country are astronomical." She narrowed her eyes and gazed at him suspiciously. "Of course, that begs the question of why you had my baby sister's panties on your head in the first place."
"It was an accident!" he cried. "I was running away from some angry naked chick and bumped into her and…"
"You were running away from naked women?" Amalla squeezed Keitaro's arm tighter, causing a lovely ripple-effect. "My, maybe you're not such a nice man, after all."
"That was an accident, too, I swear! I didn't know that the inn was an all-girls dorm or that she would just waltz in and start showing me her boobs or that…"
Amalla listened as Keitaro rambled on, finding his terrified features to be absolutely adorable. The boy had found himself in one delicious situation after another and, instead of taking advantage of it, had run away (quite vocally and vehement in his case.) That innocence and naivety tickled her fancies immensely. Oh, what she would do to break down those walls of inhibition…
And now he appeared to be winding down. "And then she kissed me, and I-"
"I get it, I get it." Amalla cooed. "All just an accident." She stroked his head like a child. "Right?"
He morosely nodded. "Uh-huh."
"Well, there's nothing for it now. You proposed to Kaolla, and now you're stuck with her. Don't worry, though, she really is a complete sweetie once you get past her megalomaniacal tendencies and habit of experimenting on everything in sight. But as her husband you'll be exempt from that…probably."
"Probably?" he squeaked.
"Don't be so glum! Think about it! You're married to one of the world's greatest technological powers! Imagine the prestige and glory that comes with it!" she put forth. Honestly, she really didn't see what the whole problem was. Any commoner would be thrilled to be accepted into royalty. Heck, Amalla was born into royalty and she was thrilled at the prospect.
"And the assassins. Don't forget the assassins," he muttered.
"Well, yes, there are those, too." Amalla admitted.
Keitaro nodded. There were bad parts to the idea, but even he had to accept that maybe there were good parts as well. Like being related to Amalla. At first he thought she was just some sex-blown honey-pot what with her not-so-jokingly proposal of sharing Keitaro and her actions during dinner. But now that he'd sat down and had a talk with her, he was finding her company to be quite pleasant. She obviously cared about Su, and strong familial-ties were a big plus in his book.
Maybe he could get through this! Now if she would just let go of his arms so he'd stop entertaining these completely wrong and immoral ideas, he would be just fine.
"It's too bad though." Amalla sighed, looking away. "I'm actually a bit jealous."
Keitaro cocked his head. "Of what?"
"I'm years older than Kaolla and yet she's the first to be proposed to like that." She refused to meet his gaze. Her tone had taken a melancholy facet to it; totally different from her playful, flirtatious one from earlier. "Though I guess it's my own fault. I kinda make it hard to do so traditionally."
Amalla turned back around. Keitaro froze at the look in her eyes. Tempting swirls of mist in sapphire eyes stared at him, her vulpine teeth slipping out. Amalla grabbed Keitaro's hand and lowered it to the bed. She leaned over, and with a raspy voice that demanded action, she rumbled into his ear, "I don't usually wear panties."
Keitaro looked down. His hand was placed in her lap, dangerously close to a break in her skirt. The triangle of shadow teased him, beckoning him further. Amalla sweetened the deal by lightly biting his ear.
Blood burst from Keitaro's nose, catapulting him away from Amalla's embrace and further onto the bed. Amalla crawled after him, her swaying chest moving like a sexy pendulum. Or maybe a sexy metronome, or something that he just couldn't take his eyes off of and sweet lord he just saw nip-
No! Stop lusting after new family member! Bad Keitaro!
"Bu-but what about Su?" he blurted.
"What about her?" Amalla said. "She'll still have you. I'm just taking you out for a test-drive to make sure there aren't any kinks for her maiden voyage." She licked her lips. "Of course, that doesn't promise there won't be any new kinks afterwards."
Amalla made it to his legs, which were paralyzed from the freight-train of sex running over them.
He tried again, willing his treacherous limbs to get moving. "B-but you're sisters!"
"So? Sisters share."
Now she was at his waist.
"Not like this!"
Amalla paused, surprised at his resistance. She didn't expect him to be so resolute in his faithfulness to Kaolla. Most guys would unconditionally accept her advances. Amalla was certain there weren't any major flaws with her body, and that she was the epitome of the classic seductress with all her curves and inviting expressions and gestures. And here was a guy who was obviously affected by her, and yet refused her all the same.
Some part of her desired him even more now. Another… was not so fervent in its thought processes.
"What are you, gay?"
No talking! Trying to escape possibility of sex!
Seriously, man, just admit it already.
Don't make me sic the censors on you!
Amalla had crawled completely on top of him, her hands on both of his shoulders to hold him down, her silver hair pooling around his head to form a curtain. His eyes were delightfully panicked, and she swooped in for the kill.
Something clanged from overhead. Both hunter and prey looked up. A duct in the ceiling had been kicked open, which was strange, as Keitaro was certain that the room did not have a ventilation system. A tanned foot retreated.
Oh, that explained it.
A tropical cutie took its place, rolled out of the duct, grabbed the edge and swung off it completely, diving through the air in an axe kick that bounced everyone off the bed and onto the floor.
Keitaro, taking whatever escape he could, grabbed for a person that was only a little less dangerous than the one before. Who cared if it made him look weak? That woman scared him in ways he'd never been scared before! Sexy, sexy ways! "Su!"
Su blinked when Keitaro ducked his head into her chest. She then smiled softly and hugged him into a tender hug. "It's okay, suami. Su's here to protect you."
Amalla clucked her tongue and pulled herself up into a sitting position. "We were just having a little fun, Kaolla. Nothing to worry about."
Su frowned and stared daggers at her older sister. "You tried to seduce my suami!"
"Aww…but I thought we had an agreement," Amalla pouted.
"Yeah! You don't get a piece until I get a piece!" She grinned toothily. "And speaking of which…Suami~"
Keitaro stopped sniffling and looked up, freezing at the sight. Oh no, not…
"Give momma some sugar!"
The human-shaped leech latched onto his mouth again. Both Su's arms and legs wrapped around him, preventing him from prying her off. He yelled something incoherent before his face started to change colors and he collapsed to the ground, twitching erratically.
Su released his lips with a pop and licked hers. "He tastes like desert!" She grabbed his hand. "Now come on, suami! Let's go explore the palace together!"
With a flying kick, she blasted the doors open from the inside, dragging a Keitaro who was floating between the veil of life and death and frothing at the mouth slightly. The guards posted gave a small yell of surprise, but quickly calmed back down when they saw it was just the youngest princess carrying her new suitor.
They weren't surprised that the princess had made her way in somehow. They weren't paid enough to try and solve the vast death-trap-laden labyrinth that was her mind. If they did, they'd be living off in castles of their own. So there was no point in worrying about it; let the girl have her fun.
Amalla sat cross-legged back in the guestroom, her chin resting in the palm of her hand. She snapped her fingers. "Curses, foiled again." She stood up, looked to where her sister had disappeared with her hubby, and grinned wickedly. "I'll get you next time, my sweet little piece of ass. Next time…"
The guards outside also ignored the maniacal laughter coming from inside the room. Just another day in the royal family's household.
Explosions rang out from another part of the complex followed by a cloud of expletives that blotted out any other sound.
Just another day.
He had to run. Run until his heart gave out. Because if he didn't push himself to that extent, what awaited him was a fate far worst than he could ever imagin. Keitaro never thought he could possibly die from an excess of nookie, but in his time in Molmol, the fear of that concept was staked expertly into his mind.
The last few days had been an exercise in futility and predictability. No matter what he did, he couldn't escape the cycle of chaos that dragged him in screaming and with claw-marks everywhere.
In fact, he recognized that patch of scratches on the wall from yesterday when he passed it by.
Wait, no! He was supposed to forget traumatic memories like that, not think on them fondly!
The daily grind was simple – wake up with Su jumping him, be suffocated, go breakfast, have a few implied and overt threats thrown his way by servants.
Get dragged on tours of the palace and surrounding areas, meet some of the natives, be threatened by them as well. Find himself in a darkened alley and wake up with hickeys all over his body. Get dragged back to socialize with his new in-laws, get threatened and/or teased and/or laughed at and/or insulted.
Have lunch, try to take a nap, discover Amalla in his bedroom wearing the newest fashions in air, run away, get side-swiped by Shriou. Be rescued by Su and then thrown around in what she deemed 'foreplay' but what he thought as being a test-dummy for martial and wrestling moves.
Snogged immediately after, be shown her workshop, see things not meant for mortal eyes, wake up again the middle of her 'experiments,' and learn how to taste colors. Snogged again.
Have dinner, bar his door, push every piece of furniture in front of it as leverage, weld the ventilation ducts that popped up every morning with a blowtorch he filched from Su's workshop, and then pass out from exhaustion.
Wake up next day, rinse, lather, repeat. No seriously, he had to rinse really well; some of those chemicals were hard to get off, and they burned.
So now he was in the middle of his routine, trying to escape but knowing that in the end she would just get him anyway. But by gods, he was going to extend the time between running and getting caught by as much as possible!
No time for thinking! Thinking is the body killer! Thinking is what gets his mouth cleaned out with an industrial-strength tasting appendage! Don't think! Run!
Keitaro rounded a bend and was grabbed by someone. He was yanked into an unmarked room. Su passed by, oblivious that she was walking right pass him. When Keitaro looked up to see who his savior was, he found…himself. An almost exact copy of him, though one with heavily tanned skin and green eyes uncovered by glasses, was smiling at him in amusement.
Keitaro stood up. So did his copy. Keitaro raised one hand and waved. His copy followed him exactly. Keitaro leaned in slowly to get a better look.
His copy chuckled awkwardly. "Are you having fun?"
"Wah!" Keitaro jumped backwards, his face clearly showing shock. When he realized what a fool he was acting, he look down in embarrassment and rubbed the back of his neck. "Um, sorry. Thanks for helping me out there."
"No problem," his double said. He framed his chin and gazed at Keitaro in interest. "Fascinating. We really do look alike."
"Huh?" Keitaro said dumbly.
"Oh, where are my manners? How do you do?" He extended his hand. "I'm Lamba Lu, head of archives and history for the kingdom of Molmol." He smiled. "And you would be Keitaro Urashima, my little sister's new husband."
Keitaro hesitantly took the man's hand before his words sank in. "Little sister? But I thought…"
"Well, she's actually my cousin. You've probably met my aunt, queen Asoka?"
"Queen Asoka-?" He choked when he finally connected the two. "You're her nephew? So wait, you're the egghead that Amalla and Su were talking a…" He trailed off when he realized his indirect insult as well as seeing the playfully inqusitive expression on Lamba's face. "Er, sorry."
"Don't worry," he said. Lamba tapped the heavy tome he had nestled in the crook of his arm. "I can't really argue that I'm a bit of a nerd. I've always loved books and all they tell us."
Keitaro noted that underneath his toga the man had a toned physique. There was no way someone who spent all his time around books could gain a body like that. Lamba traced where Keitaro's eyes were looking and laughed richly. "Ah, well, I'm also partial to digging in the sand to find Molmolian ruins and artifacts."
"Oh…" Keitaro said. "Ah, right, got it." He looked around the rest of the room.
What Lamba had said was true – the entire place was packed with tons of books and various objects like figurines, ceramic pots and vases, and even what looked like a sarcophagus in the corner. It was a veritable museum, and Keitaro was impressed by the man's collection. It was obvious Lamba was enthusiastic about his trade, and Keitaro wondered if maybe he could ever find something to be so passionate about.
Aside from his burning desire to live beyond his twenty-first birthday, as he was certain that wasn't a career-plan so much as a self-preservation instinct. Over the last week, he had become very intimate with the concept and heartily endorsed the idea of living.
Now if he could only find a way to live that didn't involve crazy Indian royalty.
"I have to say I'm glad that Kaolla is getting married."
That surprised Keitaro. "Eh, why?"
Lamba didn't look away from the dusty volume he was removing from a bookshelf. "Because otherwise she would've married me as the crown princess, and though we are not related by blood, the idea was a rather…undesirable one to me." He glanced over his shoulder. "Plus there's the fact that she's barely half my age. I am not, how you Japanese say…a lolicon." He smirked jokingly. "I prefer my women a bit riper."
"I'm not a lolicon either!" Keitaro said forcefully.
"Really?" Lamba cocked his head. "But I hear it has quite the following in your country. That some men even go so far as to buy used-"
"It's not the norm!" he spat out. He crossed his arms, puffed out his cheeks, and looked off to the side. "Besides, I have a thing for girls my own age!" Like his beautiful…Oh wait, right, that path was kind of blocked now.
Lamba raised his eyebrows at Keitaro's downtrodden expression and patted the younger man on the shoulder. "Ah, but you are much closer to her in age than I."
"By six years!"
"That will change," Lamba said. "Kaolla will get older, and then the age difference really won't be so bad."
"But it doesn't change it now!" Keitaro continued to retort.
"I suppose not." Lamba shrugged. "I understand how this must be difficult for you, but do not worry, it is not all bad."
Keitaro relaxed. "Really?"
Lamba opened the book and flipped through the pages. "Yes, of course." Finding what he wanted, he nodded and slammed the book shut. Lamba craned his neck to stare at Keitaro, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "I assure you, it's not bad – it's worse."
Somewhere in the distance, bells tolled. Keitaro's jaw went slack, and his shoulders slumped forward, arms dangling like all their supports had been cut. He couldn't quite understand just why it was such fun to pick on him so. Lamba didn't actually laugh, but the crinkles on his brow and cheeks were signs enough that he was chortling on the inside. Keitaro tried to summon the anger to vent at his Molmolian double, but found that he was as empty and dried as a pond in the desert, and all he could do was let out a miserable groan.
"Why am I so hated?"
"I would say you have the opposite problem – that you are loved too much," Lamba said. Keitaro glanced up through his bangs to see that wretchedly satisfied smile plastered on the man's face. Lamba winked. "After all, you have the love of a great girl behind you…and in front of you…and on top of you."
Lamba chuckled softly, though it wasn't mocking in the least; more like he was laughing at some inside joke that no one else knew of. It helped to sooth Keitaro's disgruntlement enough so that he didn't just growl at Lamba's next words.
"But really, you should not worry. Kaolla is a fine princess and I can assure you, she will be a fine wife as well." His face grew pensive. "Though as for her affectionate behavior, I can only wish you the best of luck and advise that you prescribe in a lot of calcium vitamins and energy drinks."
"Great," Keitaro muttered, finding Lamba's good cheer to have the opposite effect on himself. "That's all I need, more-"
The door behind Keitaro crashed open, and he was barreled forward when someone impacted with him. Tanned legs wrapped around his waist, arms hung loosely around his neck, and a cheerful face rubbed against his.
"Suami!" Su cried. "There you are! I was looking for you! Where were you going, trying to run off like that?" Her hold tightened, and the crackling of tendons and ligaments filled the air. She pushed her cheek deeper into his, marveling at the elastic and marshmallow-like qualities. So soft…!
"Hi, Su," Keitaro mumbled in resignation.
"Hello, Kaolla," Lamba greeted.
Su's eyes went wide at her cousin's presence. "Big brother Lamba!" she said in her native tongue. Using Keitaro's shoulders as a springboard, she leapt off him and vaulted onto Lamba, the older man catching and swinging her around easily. "Why didn't you tell me you were here? Papa and the mamas didn't say anything!"
"They don't know either," Lamba replied. "I wanted it to be a surprise."
As the two caught up with each other, Keitaro slunk out of the room, glad to catch his breath now that Su had someone else to occupy her attention. Meeting Lamba had helped to solidify the fear he had been suppressing all this time – being royalty meant you were crazy, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. It didn't matter if you were immediate or extended; being related was a guarantee into the nut house.
He was going to join these people.
Keitaro slid down the wall, weeping quietly to himself. Forget it, there was no point in denying it. He was stuck with them all, and that meant he would just have to accept them and try to find his niche in their habitat, even if it meant deteriorating what little sanity he had left.
He bonked his head on the wall. Now that he had some semblance of a plan, he would have to find a way to go through with it. He gulped. And that meant getting ready for the wedding that would occur the day after tomorrow. Keitaro steeled himself and nodded.
Something puffed a blast of stale, warm air at him from the side. He turned.
Shirou stared straight back at him.
Keitaro opened his mouth to scream, paused, and closed it again. He stood up and patted the crocodile's head. "C'mon, Shirou, let's see if the cooks have anything for you." Without another word or gesture, or even waiting for the croc to respond, Keitaro walked away towards the kitchens.
Shirou tilted his head, snuffed, and followed after the lad.
Haruka still couldn't believe she was at her cousin's wedding. Quite frankly, she was shocked that Keitaro was getting married at all. That he was getting married to Su of all people, and that Su turned out to be the heir to an international powerhouse was just needless extra information. All that did matter was that her klutzy, loveable cousin had found someone to spend the rest of his life with, even if it was kicking and screaming the entire way.
Though she was stunned by the festivities going on when she and the Hinata crew had arrived, it wasn't much to keep her from losing her cool. Haruka had been to Molmol before with Seta and Cynthia, so the grandness of the city and its happenstance was no stranger to her.
However, she couldn't say the same for the tenants of the Hinata-sou, all of whom were whisking around, drinking in every aspect and view they could see from the windows of the limos procured for them. Shinobu was literally glittering with excitement, obviously layering her fairy tales on top of the reality of the situation. Naru was looking back and forth, nervous about everything but still enjoying herself. Kitsune had the same old calculating expression on her face, no doubt trying to find a way to profit from the entire event. Motoko was, as always, the calmest of the lot; at least on the surface. By the way he hand kept twitching, even though she was devoid of her customary blade, it was clear to Haruka that Motoko's nerves were frayed at the idea that her friend was about to get married.
No, what she was worried about was how her sister would react to the whole ordeal in the first place, as Keitaro's parents had been picked up separately from her and her wards.
Actually, she knew exactly how Aki would react – yell at Keitaro, probably smack him around a little, and then burst into tears, crying about how her baby was getting married. Compared to her younger sister, Aki always was the emotional one, which was amusing when considering the meanings of their names.
"Uwaaah, I can't believe Su's getting married," Shinbou said.
"Good for her," Kitsune said. "Maybe bagging a man will get her to calm down."
"Jeez, Kitsune, could you be any more vulgar?" Naru blanched.
"What? I was just being honest. Besides, I know you're hoping the exact same thing. Or would you like to have another one of her 'sleepovers' on your own?"
"I-I didn't say that!" Naru considered, her mind involuntarily replaying such horrors.
"Why would Su calm down once she's married?" Shinobu asked innocently.
Kitsune leered and hooked an arm around Shinobu's shoulder, pulling her in. "Well, ya see…"
Naru grabbed her friend before she could corrupt the pure cook and covered Kitsune's mouth. "She means that Su will have a regular playmate, and she won't be as active," Naru laughed.
Shinobu frowned. "But I don't mind playing with Su. Even though sometimes she can be a bit rough." The girl's idea of tag was more rambunctious than any version Shinobu had ever played. Why would they need so many bananas?
Kitsune slipped from Naru's hold and grinned foxily. "Then maybe you can join them in their playtime."
"Kitsune!" Naru yelled, shocked by Kitsune's scandalous behavior
"What? You know how Su loves to share everything she has. Shinobu's her friend, so I'm sure she'd be willing to lend her husband"
"That doesn't mean you just go and say things like that!"
"Well, I wouldn't want to be a burden but…" Shinobu trailed off when the implications Kitsune had been making finally made sense. She made an 'eep' sound, her cheeks hemorrhaging, and her eyes rolled back. She slumped forward.
"Shinobu!" Naru knelt down and grabbed the bluenette. "Are you alright?" She gently slapped the younger girl's face.
Kitsune chuckled. "Erm, maybe I went a bit too far?"
Haruka ignored the antics of the three and focused on Motoko. Moving closer, she poked the warrior girl in the shoulder. Motoko's eyes snapped up, her hands twitching, but when she saw who had touched her, she visibly relaxed. "Haruka, it's just you," she said.
"No, why do you ask?"
Haruka looked at the tenseness in the younger girl's shoulders, and refrained from rolling her eyes. "Just a thought." Haruka cracked her neck, and glanced out the window at the throngs of people cheering for the happiness of their princess. "So."
"So." Motoko said.
Haruka chewed on the end of her cigarette, which she had neglected to light. No time like the present, she supposed. Taking out her lighter, she ignited one end and took a drag. The refreshing taste of tobacco rushed down her throat and into her lungs. Her lips changed from a neutral frown to almost a smile.
"Su's getting married."
"Yes, she is." Motoko's voice was stern and without vulnerability.
"And what do you think of that?"
"I think that it is her life, her decision."
"But…?"Haruka prodded, knowing that there was more.
"But if that man does anything to make her sad, he would have wished that Su had not saved him during our initial encounter." Motoko's fingers caressed each other, searching for something that wasn't there. It was clear that her missing weapon was causing a great deal of duress on her.
"Please try not to strangle Keitaro with your bare hands."
"I wouldn't have to do if I had Shisui."
"Then you would just slice him in half."
"I still do not why that is not a viable option."
"Because I'm pretty sure Su would be displeased. Not to mention her entire country?"
Motoko was silent. "I will… abstain from causing any undue harm to the villainous swine."
The rest of the trip was spent in silence, except for the few times Kitsune managed to get a rise out of any of the other tenants. When they arrived at the palace, which was decked out in every festive decoration and object imaginable, a team of royal guards escorted them inside. After a quick security check, they were shown to their room in order to dress for the wedding ceremony.
Haruka took the chance to see her cousin before the ceremony. When granted entry into the groom's suite, she found Keitaro pacing back and forth with his hands wringing themselves to meatloaf. His face was slick with sweat, his impeccable Molmolian outfit accenting his slight tan well, though his face was anything but serene. Haruka grinned at the scene and raised her hand, blowing out a ring of smoke.
Keitaro turned at the sound of her voice, and his expressions burst into cheer. "Aunt Haruka!" he cried, rushing forward to greet her.
He was met with a halisen to the top of his head. As he picked himself out of the floor, Haruka gave a small scowl. "That's Haruka."
"Heheh, sorry," he mumbled, though his tone was anything but apologetic. "What are you doing here?"
"What else, seeing my cousin's wedding," she answered. Grabbing his hand, she hauled him back to his feet, glad to see that aside from a few wrinkles, his suit was virtually unharmed. "How you feeling?"
"Like I'm gonna puke," he said plainly.
"Well, nothing to do for that. You are getting married, after all."
"So it's normal."
"How would you know?" he said. "You've never been-" He didn't even see it that time, but he did see how nicely crafted a floor it was when he pulled his head out.
"You were saying?"
"Ahh…" he said. "Um, dear wise and glorious…" The halisen slapped against her knee. "And young, yes, youthfully young milady Haruka, do you have any advice for me?"
"Yeah," she smirked. "Don't puke."
He frowned but did not say a word.
Su was beautiful. Clad in white robes embroidered with silver and gold threads, she looked, for probably the first time in her life, like a real princess. And when she ascended those steps in front of her family and friends and all of her subjects, she would truly become connected to her dear suami.
She couldn't dream of anything more. With him by her side, her ambitions to make Molmol the greatest super power in the world, even above America, could easily be realized. There was something deep and special about her suami, and it wasn't just that he was a good kisser. There was an…intangible quality to him that she couldn't put her finger on. Maybe it was the way he bounced back from all her rough-housing, or maybe it was all the positive results she received when testing her latest inventions on him; but through it all, her suami was simply the most she could ever ask for.
Which is when the priest asked where the groom was, and there was a decidedly suami-shaped hole where he should have been, instead of breaking down, Su chose the other option available – the one that had endeared her suami to her in the first place – that of the huntress.
Tearing her wedding clothes off to reveal a skin-tight latex suit, Su ordered the trumpeting for the beginning of the hunt.
"Deploy the third battalion of the Stalkers Corps! Find my dear suami!"
She grinned. She would use all that she could to run him down. Tapping on the wrist of her suit, a small holographic screen appeared. She made a few inputs and slammed it down.
Behind her, hover jets blew away the tables of food and trimmings, bowling guests every which way. A monstrous suit of armor and electronics opened up to welcome her inside. She jumped in, buckling herself up and watching as the system booted up.
She was ready.
"Onwards! For great snu-snu!"
He ran. He ran because he had to run. He ran because it was the only way for him to survive. He ran because…well, honestly it was due to the fact that he had gotten cold feet and had made the stupidest decision possible.
So now he was running away from an entire country.
It was at this point that Keitaro reconsidered his hasty actions and wondered if maybe he should go back and just get it over with.
But then the giant mecha came and he was running all over again.
Seriously, what was wrong with these people? Why did they have technology that only should have existed in the realm of entertainment? It was like he was trapped in some horribly-written story made by a person who had no concept of literary comedy and simply threw out what he felt was funniest at the time. What kind of hack wrote stuff like that anyway?
Keitaro slipped on a banana peel he certain wasn't there before and slammed face first into a coconut tree, which he was also sure wasn't indigenous to the geography. Jostled by his collision, several of the hard fruits fell onto his head, creating an eerie reverberation effect that to his brain-bashed ears sounded like notes on a xylophone.
It was then Keitaro knew that someone was just plain screwing with him.
Groaning, and massaging his newly-injured cranium, Keitaro sat up and shook his head to get rid of the double-images lodged in his eyes. When they finally cleared, he choked upon seeing that someone was there with him.
The older woman smiled toothily. "Hey there, Keitaro," she said. "That wasn't very nice of you to run off on my sister like that. I may have to be a responsible sibling and punish you for it." She snapped the length of leather in her hands, which Keitaro refused to believe was a whip in any size, shape, or form. Nope, just an innocent strip of material that definitely could not be used to lash him like the dog he currently felt he was.
"Nononono," he said vigorously. "You don't have to do that! Really!"
"Hmm, maybe not," Amalla said. "Or maybe…" She looked at him with a prospective glint. "I could hide you until everything blows over."
"Really? You'd do that for me?"
"If!" She pointed a finger at his face, perfectly manicured nails gleaming. "You agree to give me something in return."
There was a shout from around the corner of the building. Amalla clucked her tongue and whistled. Shirou bounded from out of nowhere, chomped Keitaro around his waist, and bounded back out just as quickly. Amalla followed after.
When Shirou spat Keitaro back out, the runaway groom saw they were in some empty room of the palace he had not been in yet. Amalla looked out of one of the large windows that they had entered through and nodded to herself. "Okay, they shouldn't be able to follow us here."
Keitaro sighed in relief. "Thanks, Amalla. I really appreciate it." He looked around. Seeing a door, he figured he could sneak out from there and then into a less occupied-area of the royal grounds, or maybe out of the city entirely. He nodded. "Well, see y-"
"Uh-uh-uh!" She wiggled her finger. "You still owe me a favor."
Keitaro grimaced. "R-right." He started to turn. "Maybe I could guyai-yai-yai…" His eyes widened, and his face paled, all blood rushing to his nose and…other places.
Amalla finished shimmying her panties off; a collection of silk and lace that, by all accounts, was not made of enough material to actually do its job. In fact, the only thing it might have done was just outline the area it was supposed to cover.
His name was Eduardo, and he was about to act as the second visionary in Fred's wonderful doctrine.
Keitaro couldn't do anything as Amalla sashayed her way over, hips swaying in a delightful movement that barely missed revealing what Eduardo had covered. Her smile was catty, her eyes just daring him to try and escape, but only succeeded in staking him in place. With a casual flip, she pulled the garments down on Keitaro's crown. She then lightly kissed the corner of his mouth and winked.
"Please to meet you…suami."
The wall to the room exploded inward.
When the dust cleared, a blocky mecha the size of a SUV hovered into the new opening, several barrels and rockets latched on the outside and ready to fire at a moment's notice. The mecha's visor scanned the room, bleeped a bright red, and zoomed in on the new couple.
The mecha retracted its missile launcher and opened up, Su jumping out with unrestrained glee. "Found yooouuu…" she crooned. When she saw Keitaro coughing, and the new addition to his apparel, her eyes widened. "Suami, you…"
"It's not what you think!" he panted. "I swear, it's just a-"
"You mean I get to stay with my sister?"
Keitaro's eyes went blank. "Whut."
Amalla nodded and sniffed, eyes teary. "He said he couldn't bear tearing us apart; that it would be criminal to marry you and leave me by the wayside."
Su approached Keitaro. "Is this true?" Her face was a vulnerable mask, hoping and pleading beyond measure.
"Yes!" Amalla threw herself onto her little sister, tears glistening down her cheeks. "He proposed to me so ardently, even going so far as to ask for my panties directly from the source! He said he would die unless it was the three of us together."
"Oh, suami…" Su sobbed. "I never knew…" She grabbed and hugged his unresisting body. "I never knew that you care so much for my well-being. To go so far as proposing to my sister! I…I…" Keitaro shuddered. "No, no! Don't cry. Please!"
She let go of Keitaro and set her jaw. There was only one thing to do that would settle all of this amicably with regards to all participants.
"Double wedding time!"
The priest observed the new proceedings. So there was an extra bride this time around. Very well, polygamous marriages weren't unknown to him, though gaining a new bride during the wedding was a new trick. He speculated how much guts the groom had to attempt such a thing. Why, in all his years as a priest for the royal family it had never happened before. There were times when he had weddings three days in a row, but not within an hour and at the same time.
He glanced at the blushing brides and not-so-blushing groom. Su was still in her catsuit and refused to don her dress again, claiming that it wouldn't stay on for very long anyway. Amalla was smiling triumphantly, her original bridesmaid dress now trimmed to something more akin to nightwear. Keitaro was…sporting a lovely ensemble of ropes around his body, the lead held by Raulla.
The priest shrugged mentally. He coughed. "I guess we better get this over with so our new trio can get on with their happy marriage. So, we'll go with the short version." He turned to Su. "Do you?"
He looked at Amalla. "Do you?"
Finally, he ended with Keitaro. "Do you?"
"Do I have a choi-ee!" He looked back at Raulla, who had her Beretta tucked into his spine. She smiled sinisterly and gestured over at the rest of the royal family – all of which had some form of violence-deriving tool in their hands. He snapped up straight and forced a great smile. "Yes! Yes, I do! Happily! I do!"
"Then you're married! Congratulations! Someone kiss!"
Amalla and Su glared at each other, snorted, and cocked their hands back. They rammed their fists forward.
Su squealed while Amalla looked at her thrown-out scissors in scorn. She then shrugged. She would have her turn.
Su leaped onto Keitaro for her kiss, wrapping her limbs around in her customary embrace. When she finished, she stepped aside for Amalla. The woman made up for the delay, engulfing him in a searing liplock while she grabbed a handful of his rear. When she was done, the two stepped back, looked at each other, and grinned.
They knew what was coming up next, and they would enjoy it to the fullest.
As the entire congregation of Molmolians, foreign dignitaries, and Japanese cheered for the new generation of the royal family, Keitaro gazed up at the sky.
And he wept for a long time after that…to his grave.
A/N: Second chapter gone. Sorry if this isn't up to my usual standards. For some reason I had a hard time writing this chapter. Don't know why, but I just couldn't feel my creative juices flowing. Ah well…Hopefully the next chapter will be much better, and you can see what kind of crap Keitaro will be thrown into now that he has TWO wives.
As a side note, I've decided to keep the possible wives inside the Love Hina-verse. As for why, well…I just though it might be easier to keep a coherent canon rather than just zipping all over the place. So expect the girls you know and love to be Keitaro's! On the upside, there will be international fun because, really, did you think Keitaro marrying someone from a different country wouldn't have consequences? In any case, keep looking and reading!
Next Chapter – Honeymoon Hinjinks