A/N: The following story contains spoilers if you haven't read chapter 177. What do you do if your the daughter of a filthy rich industrialist and the object of your affections is leaving the country without you? Well, you and a few close friends could follow in your private jet, or you could find a sympathetic ear to listen to your problems.

Through no fault of my own, I still don't own Negima or its characters.

Saint Ursula's church looked surprisingly empty this morning. Ayaka looked up at the clock tower and saw that the time was not yet 7:30. She hoped that the kindly Mister Priest was in. It felt as if the weight of the entire world was on her shoulders, and she desperately needed someone to talk to.

The class rep noticed an area cordoned off for construction. Her eyes scanned the roof and noticed a large hole that hadn't been there before. She remembered that Misora-san had mentioned something about wind damage. Cautiously, she edged around the marked area and made her way inside.

The sanctuary was cool and quiet. The sound of her heels clicking on the floor echoed off the walls. She could see only one other person, a woman wearing a nun's habit. The sister was replacing hymnals behind each bench.

"Excuse me," she called out.

The woman stopped and turned to look at the blonde-haired student. Ayaka noted that the nun looked only a few years older than herself.

"Yes," the sister responded. "How may I help you?"

"Is Mister Priest in?"

"The father is preoccupied right now," the nun answered. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No, I don't think so," Ayaka replied, her disappointment evident on her face.

The woman studied the class rep for a moment and then said "If you'll wait in the confessional, I'll see if the father can break away for a few minutes."

Ayaka stepped inside the wooden box and sat down. The compartment was cramped, the seat was hard, and the girl wasn't really sure about what she was doing. She had waited for what seemed like hours when the panel slid back and a gentle voice spoke. "What troubles your thoughts so early this morning child?"

"It's about that person I spoke to you about before Mister Priest," she said.

"While I still feel strongly about him, I don't think …," Ayaka faltered for a moment then struggled to continue, "I don't think he cares about me."

"Why do you think that?" the voice on the other side asked.

"Well, he's leaving on a trip out of the country and is taking several of my classmates," she replied, valiantly resisting the urge to cry, "but he didn't ask me to come along."

The president of class 3A sniffled a few times, trying not to let her resolve crumble. "And after I helped him too."

A sob tore its way from her throat as her shoulders started to shake. Tears pooled in her eyes and began their slow descent. The pain was too much for her to bear. Negi, her Negi, was deserting her. She put her face into her hands and cried. The voice had said something, but she only caught "by the door."

"What?" Ayaka asked.

"I said there are tissues by the door," the voice answered.

Ayaka grabbed a handful and began to blot her face dry. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "You must think I'm terribly immature."

"Not at all," the voice reassured her. "Did you ask why you weren't invited?"

"He said where they were going required special training," the class rep responded.

"So is there some risk involved?" the voice asked her.

"I guess so," the girl answered. "But I would gladly take any risk to be with him."

"Do you trust his judgment?"

The question made Ayaka pause. "Yes," she finally admitted.

"Then have you considered that this person didn't exclude you because he doesn't like or appreciate you," the voice said, "but because he cares enough not to want to expose you to any possible danger?"

Ayaka thought that was likely. Negi was always concerned with other's wellbeing. "I suppose so."

"Not being with the one you care about hurts, no matter the reason," the voice told her. "But if you trust this person to make good decisions, then believe that he made this one with your best interests at heart."

As Ayaka pondered this, the person on the other side asked "What else is bothering you?"

"Well …."

A short time later, Ayaka walked out of the church feeling lighter in spirit. Meanwhile, a middle-aged man exited the confessional and was greeted by a dark-haired girl, about the age of an elementary school student, wearing a habit.

"Aren't you afraid of going to hell?" Cocone asked.

The priest smiled at the young girl, and then his outline blurred as the illusion fell away. In his place stood the nun Ayaka first met. "That is always a concern," Sister Shakti replied. "But this girl needed comforting not absolution."

"You chastised Misora for doing the same thing," the youngster pointed out.

"True, but the intent was different," she explained to the skeptical novice. "Misora sought her own amusement through her deception. I sought to help someone deal with their feelings."

Cocone still looked unconvinced. "If what I did was wrong, I shall be punished," Sister Shakti continued. "But I would gladly suffer longer in the next world to ease a soul in torment in this one."