A/N: This is a continuation of the story started in Markham Chronicles Negima. For those of you who haven't read that and the related Hiro's Lament, and I know there must be one or two, I am providing a brief summary.

Phillip Markham Jr., retired from the US Air Force and became a teacher. He was offered the chance to teach English at a girls' high school in Mahora, and was assigned Professor Springfield's former class for home room. Although initially unaware of magic, he discovered its existence and agreed to join the headmaster in defending the school and students from an expected attack by a group of mages bent on world domination, the Cabal Magicus.

The Cabal was a behind the scenes player during the Great War but are now in the forefront of actions in both this and the Magic Worlds. They attempted to assassinate Evangeline, whom they hired to kill the Thousand Master years ago, and believe they succeeded. The vampire is in hiding, pretending to be a new teacher at the Middle School.

Several magic teachers were sent out to the field, including Takamichi. While investigating a lead about Fate Averruncus, the teacher found out the enemy mage is actually a golem. After defeating golem's creator, Takamichi returned to Mahora with a second golem that appears to be a younger, less powerful, version of Fate.

The Cabal is also believed to be behind the attack upon the Speaker of the Council of Mages though the purpose for it isn't clear. As a result of this, the headmaster has sent Prof Akashi and an agent named Oishi, on a fact finding mission to the Magic World.

While on the class trip to California, Markham and his students had several adventures that culminated in an attack by a wendigo. The creature was defeated but now everyone in the class is aware of magic and that Zazie Rainyday can turn into a dragon.

For his part, Negi has moved into the teacher's dorm with Markham as his roommate. He has a new group of students and is encountering problems being an 11 year old teacher of a bunch of 12 year old girls. During their trip to Hawaii, he found out that 5 of his students are being trained by Takane Goodman and Mei Sakura. The self-proclaimed Negi Defense Force aided him in retrieving a legendary artifact.

I have used ideas and situations from several stories for both background and character development. Markham Jr., while my OC, was drawn from the Phillip Markham/Arno Dali character in an unpublished novel called 'Exile to Earth.' A lot of material I use for Zazie Rainyday was developed in Ambrant Arandel's 'Child of Mine' and TFKeyes 'The Wonders of Love.' I have used several elements from these along with ReddyRedWolf's 'Love Sara' and Tsutomu Teruko's 'Pactum Factum' to add extra dimension to the various students. This is not to say that this story is somehow a continuation of those others. I do however reference events from them and from stories by my fellow Train Station collaborators (or perhaps that should be conspirators?). Please enjoy and if you're feeling particularly generous, send a review. Praise, suggestions and condemnation are equally accepted (though I prefer the first two).

Disclaimer: Negima belongs to Ken Akamatsu and this story is a piece of fanfiction that has neither connection to nor the consent of Akamatsu-san.

The following conventions are used: "words", 'thoughts', "spells".

You Can't Go Home Again

It was the hour of twilight on a soft spring day toward the end of April in the year of Our Lord … - Thomas Wolfe

Kansai Temple, Kyoto

The sentry paced back and forth atop the wall, each stride carefully measured but flowing naturally. A dark-colored robe made her difficult to see in the wane moonlight, but the white-feathered ends of a dozen arrows sticking above her shoulder, were clearly visible. Once there had been no need to post guards, being a temple alone had been sufficient protection, but that had changed one evening the previous year.

Strangers had crept in during the middle of the night and taken everyone, including the head of the association, by surprise. The intruders had kidnapped the heir and had used the girl's power to release the demon Sukuna from its inter-dimensional prison. Had not the son of the famed Thousand Master and the boy's partners been there, they might have succeeded in their plan.

But Springfield-sama had been there, the plotters had been stopped and the demon resealed. The ringleader was safely incarcerated and her fellows scattered to the winds. The sentry's thoughts were interrupted as a pebble struck the walkway with a faint tap. Instantly, the guard whirled about with bow in hand and arrow knocked but found nothing to shoot at.

Cautiously the woman scanned the wall and surrounding rooftops but could make out no shapes in the gloom. Checking the ground, she found the small stone that was the source of the sound. Behind her, she heard the swish of fabric and started to spin, but 

moved too slowly as the katana's hilt struck the back of her head. The robed sentry fell forward, but a slender figure caught her by the waist and slowly lowered her to the ground.

The attacker quickly bound and gagged the guard; no need to slay the now helpless girl and risk rousing the entire association's wrath. The idea was to survive long enough to issue the challenge and bring the hanyo maid to Kyoto. "First, Amagasaki-san has to be freed and then …," the cloaked intruder paused, "then I deal with sempai." Leaving as quietly as a shadow, the figure melted into the night.

Somewhere over the North Pacific

The window shades were down, plunging the cabin of the jumbo jet in darkness. Phillip Markham stared at the backlit display of his cell phone and watched as the clock advanced after crossing the International Date Line. In the blink of an eye, a day vanished as Friday, April 23rd, became Saturday, April 24th. One could consider it magical, if one wasn't a teacher at Mahora. The American sighed as he put the phone away. He had been at Mahora less than a month, and had seen more magic than he should in a lifetime.

He wasn't surprised that magic existed. After all, he spoke regularly with his mother's ghost and often had visions of what other people saw or thought. It was how indifferently magic was treated at Mahora that gave him pause. In the few weeks Phillip had been there, he had fought demons, taught a ghost, seen a robot in her lingerie, gone on a date with the undead, stepped into the middle of a wizard's war and it was no big deal. Perhaps what bothered him was that magic should be something mysterious, something special, not common place.

Of course it was dangerous too he reminded himself. They had been in the crosshairs almost from the start of the class trip. His students were held hostage by armed robbers on their first day in the US. Then there was the battle with a group of evil mages in a shopping mall. It culminated in an attack on the entire class by a creature out of Native American legend. They couldn't even leave the country without some crazy taking a pot shot at them. 'Just another day, right Phillip?'

Even the few girls in the class who hadn't known about magic before the trip had adapted to it. Reactions had ranged from Miss Kakazaki's "that explains a lot" to the Narutaki's "having a dragon for a classmate is so cool." He had to repress a chuckle, remembering as the class rep stared at the other girls in disbelief and shrieked with an outraged voice, "You all knew about this? And nobody told me?"

The student next to him shifted as she dozed, laying her head against Phillip's shoulder. Zazie Rainyday could transform into a dragon. She had done so a few days ago, saving all of their lives. The teacher didn't consider himself a coward but he should feel some concern being so close to her. Oddly, when he looked at her, Markham didn't see a fearsome creature; the girl with the facial tattoos was just another student. Maybe common place wasn't such a bad thing.

Zazie chose that moment to moan in her sleep. Phillip didn't know what language she was speaking, but it sounded as if she said "Mati." Gently he laid a hand on top of hers and suddenly found himself in another place. Flames were blazing everywhere as people rushed madly about. In utter silence, the teacher watched red gouts of blood bloom as semi-automated weapons cut through a cluster of people dressed as if woken from their beds. Trucks, tents and cages were all on fire and gunfire plowed its way through knots of people. "Dear God in heaven," Phillip breathed as he watched the slaughter continue.

How long it went on, he couldn't say, but eventually the people stopped falling. Men carrying AK-47s cautiously examined the corpses. Phillip was familiar with the results of such barbarism, but he had never thought to witness it. One of the men prodded a body with his booted foot. The murderer turned and Phillip clearly saw his face in the firelight. With a shock, the one-time sergeant recognized the man from his time in Kosovo. He was the commander of a Serbian militia based in Strpce.

Mister Markham was once again sitting in the jet on his way back to Japan. His shirt felt sticky from sweat and his shaking hand still rested on his student's. His mind reeled from the double shock that the girl had been in Kosovo and had survived a massacre. The teacher's heart out went to her as he considered the silent student who sat in the back of the class. "Oh Zazie," Phillip thought. "I had no idea."

Mahora Girls Dormitory

Class 1A, Mahora Girls High School, slowly trudged up stairs to the sixth floor where their rooms were located. The class rep stood to one side, marking each girl off her sheet as they passed by in weary silence. Mana noted that even the Narutaki twins had given out. Kaede and Akira each carried one of the sisters upon their backs. Chachamaru carried extra bags and carefully set them in front of the proper door as the robot quickly made her way down the hall. Finally reaching the room her co-creator shared, the gynoid stopped. "Would you like me to put these in your room?" she asked Hakase in her flat, never wavering voice.

"Yes," the class resident mad scientist answered as she opened the door. "I'd like your help moving this back to the lab on Monday," Hakase continued. "I'll scan and cleanup your files afterwards."

Hakase was surprised to find Mana standing quietly behind her. "Yes?" the girl asked her one-time confederate.

"I'm waiting to get into our room," the taller girl replied. Hakase arched an eyebrow in response so Mana explained, "My room has a water leak so I've moved in with you and Rainyday-san."

"When did this happen?"

"The Tuesday before the trip," the mercenary answered. "You really should drop by a little more often."

"So where is Sakurazaki-san staying?" Hakase asked.

Setsuna's voice carried down the hall to them. "My arm's fine Kono-chan," the swordswoman complained as her friend struggled with both of their bags. The hanyo's arm, confined by a sling, hung limply in front of her. "Let me help."

"The doctor said to rest your arm Se-chan," Konoka reminded her. "I'll make us some tea then I can help you change out of those clothes."

"I'm not an invalid," Setsuna replied as she walked into the room she currently shared with Konoka and Asuna.

Hakase mouthed an "Oh" as she turned back to her new roommate. "How long until they can fix your leak?"

"Who knows," Mana said with her mouth in a half-smile. "It could take all year."

"Your bags are next to your desk," Chachamaru announced as she rejoined them. In her hand was a white envelope. "Tatsumiya-san," she said while extending her hand, "the letter is addressed to you."

Just a few doors down the hallway, Yuna fell back onto the couch and kicked her shoes off. Her and Akira's suitcases lay in the center of room where the pig-tailed student left them. 'Plenty of time to put stuff away later,' she thought, recalling her recent adventures. This year's trip had been a blast. 'No offense to Negi, but battling evil wizards beats sitting seiza hands down.'

'And Zazie-san was awesome,' she decided. Both she and Asuna had extended their hands in friendship to their quiet classmate, and it thrilled her that the offer was accepted. She could hardly wait to for the next opportunity to save the day. This time the sports girl could be the hero unit. 'But I can't collect the prize then,' she remembered. As she wrestled with the age old dilemma of having one's cake and eating it too, her roommate walked in.

Akira glanced at the luggage piled haphazardly and mentally sighed. "Thanks for bringing in my bag," she said as her attention was caught by a slip of paper sticking out from under her suitcase.

"No problem," Yuna assured her. "What is that?"

"It's a letter," the tall swimmer replied as she picked up the envelope. "It's addressed to you."

Yuna took the envelope and recognizing her father's writing, eagerly tore it open. Her expression turned from anticipation to bafflement as she stared at the empty page. Not completely empty as she noted a series of figures that reminded her of the control panel for a video player. "I don't get it," she said perplexed, flipping the sheet over. "All it has are these drawings," she remarked as her finger jabbed the little arrow. In response, a hologram of her father floated above the page.

"Dear Yuna," the figure of Professor Akashi said.

"Daddy!" she cried out while turning the letter and her father's image over.

"I understand you and your classmates have had an exciting trip," her father's voice continued. "I hope this message finds you all back at Mahora, safe and sound. It's high time that you and I sit down and have a talk, but that will have to wait awhile longer."

Yuna flipped the paper right-side up and stared at her father's image. "By the time you hear this, I'll be out of town again. I know you'll be disappointed, but what I'm doing is vitally important. I may be gone for longer than you're used to, but don't worry, I'll be fine. Remember that you have friends to turn to, who will help you past the rough spots. Please tell Akira, Ako and Makie I said hello."

Her eyes grew misty as his words continued. "Yuna, I am very proud of you and I know your mother would be too." The mood was broken as he slapped palm to forehead. "Oh, I nearly forgot," he exclaimed. "We need to get serious about your training young lady."

Both girls looked at each other, equally bewildered. "I've hired a coach to help get your game to the next level. It won't be easy, but I know you can do it," he said with an amused smile.

"Love, Dad," he concluded as a knock came to the door. Mana stood outside, clutching a sheet of paper in her fist.

"Did you get a letter?" she asked.

Yuna's grin grew wide enough that her mouth hurt. "When can we start coach?"

Abergavenny, Wales

Hiro stepped from the nearly empty train on to an equally deserted platform. He guessed that not many people came to this out-of-the-way village in the Welsh mountains, or perhaps it was the off season. The station looked like something from another age as red brick columns soared into graceful arches that criss-crossed the ceiling.

The young man set his leather suitcase down and reached into a pocket for a cigarette. As he puffed away, Hiro wondered at the sudden changes in his life. Eight months ago, magic was something mentioned in fairy tales. Now he was on the verge of entering a Magic World where people like him would be the oddity. And at a severe disadvantage he thought as he dropped the burning cigarette and crushed it beneath his shoe.

According to the old man's instructions, he should be met at this station and the contact would see him to the school at Meldiana. The platform was still vacant except for him, so the assassin picked up his bag and headed for the tunnel leading out. Once inside, he heard a conversation echo off the walls.

A woman, looking no older than himself, wearing a black dress with a stiff, white collar was trying to pass another man who was intent on blocking her way. Long, blonde hair fell below the woman's waist and Hiro immediately thought of Ayaka, but this one's eyes reflected violet in the harsh, overhead light. "I'm supposed to meet somebody," she told her unwelcome companion as she tried to move around him again.

The woman's admirer was dressed in a pair of torn jeans and a threadbare tee-shirt. His hair had enough gel in it to stand straight up. "What's your hurry?" he asked. "How about we nip into the pub for a quick pint?"

From the way he slurred his words, Hiro guessed the man had already packed away a few pints. The assassin approached as the couple continued to shuffle back and forth. "I'm not interested," the woman said as she finally pushed her way past.

The man, his face flushed from drink, grabbed hold of her shoulder, and then fell to the ground as a fist smashed into the side of his head with a sound like sledge hammer striking a side of beef. Blood trickled from the side of his mouth as he struggled to rise, but a foot planted itself on top of his groin.

"You don't listen so well," Hiro observed as he stared down at the drunk. "The lady isn't interested."

"Damn, slant-eyed …," the man started to say but stopped as the foot pressed down harder.

"Like I said, you don't listen so well," the assassin said as a slight smile played about his lips. "Apologize to the nice lady if you want to keep your family jewels intact."

"S…s…sorry," his opponent whimpered.

"Get out of here," Hiro told him as he lifted his foot. The would-be Lothario scampered down the tunnel and out of sight. The blonde-haired woman stared at her rescuer with an expression that lay somewhere between shock and fascination. "I hope I'm the person you're looking for?" he asked.

Hiro was surprised when she addressed him Japanese. "You are if your name is Oishi Kuranosuke," she answered.

"At your service … Miss?" he replied.

"Springfield," the woman responded cheerfully as if the events of a moment ago were forgotten. "My name is Nekane Springfield."

She bowed in greeting. "Welcome to Wales Oishi-san."

They walked outside the station and Hiro was amazed by the clear sky overhead. Accustomed to the haze that perpetually hung over cities such as Tokyo or Paris, it felt as if he had encountered the color blue for the very first time. He stopped and gazed at the huge canopy of open space then his eyes swept down to the line of hills looming in the east. The young man could make out an old castle on a nearby hill.

His attractive guide continued a few steps before noticing her companion had halted. "Is something wrong Oishi-san?" she asked.

"Where's the school?" Hiro replied as he scanned the surrounding town.

"Meldiana is too small and too far up in the hills to have train service," Nekane answered smiling. "We have a few hours traveling still."

"So how do we get there?" he asked. "I don't think I want to travel by ghostly carriage."

"That only happens in books Oishi-san," the blonde-haired woman chuckled. She pointed to a bus, painted red and white, parked at the end of the block. "No thestrals I'm afraid."

The driver was a pale-skinned, pinch-faced fellow who merely grunted in reply when Nekane greeted him. She sat next to the window and indicated for Hiro to sit next to her. The diesel engine roared to life and the assassin thought the driver was preparing to launch them into space from the way the man fiddled with various knobs and buttons on the dashboard. Fortunately, the driver merely shifted the bus into gear and pulled away from the curb. Soon it rumbled over a paved road that snaked its way into the hills.

His companion spent the next few hours in a mostly one-sided conversation as they drove along the twisting, Welsh road. She politely asked questions about his family, home and Mahora which Hiro just as politely evaded. For someone who lived in such a remote corner of the British Isles, he found her quite knowledgeable about the school. His face frowned as he recalled a conversation with Ayaka.

"Are you feeling ill Oishi-san?" the woman asked.

"Is Springfield a common name?" he asked in return.

"Not too," Nekane replied. "Why do you ask?"

"I seem to remember that there's a teacher named Springfield at Mahora."

Nekane beamed at that. "My cousin Negi," she informed him.

Hiro now saw how Ayaka could be attracted to a young boy if the boy in question looked anything like the woman next to him. Nekane was beautiful, but still she couldn't hold a candle to a certain middle school student. 'High school student now,' he corrected himself.

"So who is she?" he heard his guide ask.

"Who's who?"

"The person you were just thinking about?"

The assassin's first instinct was to deny it, but he decided to answer, "A girl I knew at Mahora."

"Is she somebody special?" the woman asked.

"At one time," Hiro replied. He had told Ayaka he only wanted her family's money. Her response had been a punch that knocked him to the ground. "We didn't part on friendly terms."

The bus crested a rise and Nekane gave a joyful "Oh! We're home!"

Meldiana was a quaint collection of shops and cottages nestled along the steep flank of a hill. The type of little village one would snap a few pictures of then forget about until years later when looking through boxes of old photos. Hiro felt disappointed at its ordinariness. He had expected power and grandeur, but received sedate instead. Tires encountered cobblestones, jolting the young man out of his thoughts. Pulling next to a fountain, the driver shifted into park and pushed the lever controlling the doors. They opened with a whoosh, letting the two passengers out. Gears ground as the bus shuddered back into motion, belching a cloud of black smoke as it continued on its way. Again, Hiro asked his guide about the school's location.

In response, Nekane pointed to a large, domed building at the distant edge of the village. Its gilded surface sparkled in the late afternoon sun as she spoke. "That is the administration building for the school." She told him. "While it's not as big as Mahora, Meldiana has been in continuous operation longer than any other school of magic."

"Since your associate is expected tomorrow, the school master will meet you both then," the woman continued. "Why don't we get you settled in your room Oishi-san?"

"Am I staying at the school?"

"No, they're too short of space," she explained. "I run a guest house for the occasionally visitor. Follow me."

As they walked away from the fountain, a thought occurred to Hiro. "Negi-san's your cousin, right?" he asked, and Nekane quickly affirmed. "Would you have a picture of him by chance?"

They sat on the couch, peering down at the photo album spread out before them. Carefully, Nekane turned the white paper that kept the pictures from touching one another. "And those are my parents again," she told her guest. "Are you sure I'm not boring you?"

"No, I asked to see them," he replied. "What happened to your folks, if I'm not prying?"

"My mother passed away the August before Negi was born," she sadly recounted. "As for my father, there was a terrible fire seven years ago … the whole village burned down."

"I'm sorry."

"That's alright," Nekane responded as she quickly turned the page. Hiro saw a series of black and white photos. Snow was visible so he assumed it to be the winter. A woman, her blonde hair cut short, held a bundle wrapped in a white blanket. "You can't see him, but that's my cousin in the blanket. He was all of one month old at the time."

"Is that his mother?" the young man asked.

"That is McGuiness-san, a family friend," she answered. "Negi's mother didn't survive his birth."

"And that is Professor Akashi's wife in this one," she said, pointing out the dark-haired woman holding the bundle. "They came to visit for the holidays that year."

The bottom photo was a group shot. "That's the professor on the left, his wife, McGuiness-san, my father, and I'm at the end."

Hiro noted the little, dark-haired girl seated in front. The white bundle was on her lap. "Who's the kid holding your cousin?"

"That would be the Akashi's daughter, Yuna."

He remembered Yuna from the previous August. She had been part of the group that rescued that Naba girl when the Yakuza snatched her. Not that Hiro cared a bit about that; he just wanted payback on the creep that pistol-whipped Ayaka. He recalled Yuna had done alright, taking down a couple of the gangsters, and that she jiggled in the right places when she walked. She had also pushed him off a four-story building to keep him from shooting Ayaka.

Nekane noted the minute change in her visitor's face and started to draw her own conclusions. Last summer, she had talked at length with both Ayaka-san and Chizuru-san while their teacher and classmates were gone. Slowly the pieces of Ayaka's story came together into a sad tale of betrayal, and now she wondered if the other half of the equation wasn't with her. "But you want to see a more recent picture of Negi," she said as she flipped to the end of the album. "He's in the center, surrounded by his students."

The young boy wearing a suit and tie looked out of place surrounded by taller girls. Hiro's eyes roamed to the blonde standing to the teacher's immediate left, and opened wide in surprise. In a voice barely audible, Nekane heard him utter "Ayaka."

Above the mantle, the clock chimed half-past six. "I have an important appointment," the woman explained as she rose. Quickly she pulled a sweater across her shoulders then reached into her pocket and took out a necklace. A ruby, about the size of Hiro's thumb to the first knuckle, was secured by gold wire to a chain.

As she fastened the clasp, Hiro spoke. "It must be some appointment?" he remarked as he examined the gem's smooth surface. "That looks pretty expensive."

"Not really," she responded. "There's a bubble in the center that makes it too fragile to cut."

"So the heart is flawed," he observed.

Nekane's smile seemed bittersweet as she replied, "Yes, but it's who gave it to me that makes it special."

The couple stood a meter from the cliff's edge, watching the sun gracefully descend in the west. The woman, sweater draped around her shoulders, crossed her arms below her chest, resting elbows on palms. Out of the corner of his eye, her companion noted the expression on her face. It wasn't anger, Nekane was never angry, but her displeasure was clearly evident.

"And you're sure that this is really necessary?" she asked, stressing the word really. If she had hoped he would speak further, she was cruelly disappointed. Craning her head to the side, she studied the man's face. Bathed in sunlight, it shone as brightly as an angel's. Nekane ached from its beauty, but knew he lay beyond her reach, like a blazing star in a distant constellation.

That face, with its awful beauty, regarded her in return. Eyes, far older than the rocks they stood upon, bored into her with their merciless insistence. Nekane fought the urge to glance away; refusing to meekly submit. "Very well, I'll do it," she finally said. "But not because of some vague notion of 'what must be'."

A mischievous grin appeared as she continued. "I do it only because you asked."

So slight it could have been missed, the corners of her companion's mouth lifted in response. The woman was instantly reminded of tiny cracks forming in otherwise perfect marble. 'Perhaps not so distant after all,' she thought to herself.

Nekane lay upon the covers of her bed and shivered slightly. Even though it was spring, evenings in the eastern hills of Wales were cool. Her ruffled nightgown, comfortable as it was, provided scant warmth. Under the effects of the tea, drowsiness crept upon her. She began her spell as the magic of the draught took hold. "Queen Mab, part for me the veil of dreams, of sweet dreams, that make the world appear rose-colored."

People tended to forget that, although not as accomplished as her young cousin, she too graduated from Meldiana. And dream walking was one thing she did as well as anyone. Her dream self rose up and hovered over her sleeping body. To those with the sight, her spirit form resembled a translucent copy of herself. She was unconcerned by her lack of clothing as concepts such as modesty and shame, so prevalent in the waking world, meant nothing in the dreamtime.

At the mere thought, her spirit ascended, as effortlessly as swimming to the surface of the lake near her former home. Floating next to Oishi-san's bed, Nekane looked down at the young man who tossed and turned in his slumber. She tried not to dwell on the consequences of what she was about to do. Peeking into another's dreams was a grey area to mages, but to manipulate dreams had been outlawed for many years. Severe penalties awaited anyone caught performing the mareridt, to include having their magic permanently sealed. Without further hesitation, Nekane straddled the man's chest, placed hand upon perspiring brow, and recited an incantation she was sworn not to repeat.

She found herself on a rooftop, looking at Oishi-san who stood on the far side as he held a hunting rifle in his hands. Negi's little friend, Kotaro-kun, was there too. In the distance, the young woman could hear the blare of a loud speaker above the rumble of a boisterous crowd.

"I feel stupid, falling for that you're-after-her-money story," Kotaro said disgustedly. "So you're a professional killer huh?"

"That's right," Oishi-san calmly answered. "And Yukihiro Ayaka is my target."

Nekane was surprised by revelation. 'Killer?' she thought. 'Oh dear.'

"So what are you going to do about it?" the assassin asked.

"Nothing," the boy replied.

"Nothing?"

"You're not going to pull the trigger," Kotaro declared as the boy crossed his arms in front of his chest.

At that, Nekane understood what she had to do, though the why remained a mystery. Softly, the young mage chanted her spell, "I call upon thee Morpheus, matchless King of Dreams, form for me a raiment spun out of moonlit beams. With deft fingers, an ivory dream I require of you to weave. Grant me the semblance of the one for whom this heart doth greave."

"You want me to stop you," the boy concluded.

The man chambered a round and rammed the bolt home as he responded, "Don't count on it."

A girl wearing a school gym uniform stepped from behind the stair housing to confront the arguing pair. Nekane instantly recognized Yuna. "Stop him!" the newcomer yelled.

"Stay out of it Yuna!" Kotaro shouted back. "I know what I'm doing!"

The loudspeaker boomed out "From Mahora Middle School, Yukihiro Ayaka."

The world seemed to stop as the image of Ayaka stepped into the dim light. Confused, the gunman glanced over his shoulder to the noisy stage, and then back to girl he had agreed to kill. "How?" he asked numbly.

"I'm rich," the girl replied impishly. "I can do anything."

Her features became serious as she continued, "Is it true? Do you want to be stopped?"

Though a dream, Nekane felt the tension roll off the man she knew as Oishi-san. "Or will you shoot?" she asked.

Paralyzed by indecision, the assassin mutely looked from the girl to the rifle and back again. "Fire or don't, it doesn't matter," Nekane told him. "It only matters that you choose."

Spirit or not, her heart thumped loudly as he raised the rifle and aimed. One beat … two … then Oishi-san lowered his gun. "I can't do it," he said as the rifle slipped from his hands and clattered on the roof.

The click of heels echoed as she walked to the young man. Her task was completed, he had made his choice, but Nekane couldn't leave it at that. She had spent several days with Ayaka, and though the student had tried to hide it, her hostess could see the traces of heartbreak. While a relationship between these two seemed doomed, that they cared for each other couldn't be denied. She owed the class rep at least a chance after the girl was such a big help to Negi. She placed Ayaka's arms about him and drew him close. "Promise me something," she whispered.

Arms hugged her in return. "Anything," came his strangled reply.

"The place you are going to is very dangerous," she said. "Promise me you'll come back alive."

Nekane felt his arms clutch tighter and then, "I … I promise."

A/N: Both the chapter title and opening quote are from "You Can't Go Home Again" by Thomas Wolfe.



I can't think of too many stories that have Nekane in them, let alone have her do anything. Here is a woman that's beautiful, brave, knows magic and has bucketsful of compassion, yet sadly is as overlooked at Satsuki-san. Below are a few notes concerning her appearance:

Mareridt is the Danish word for "mare ride" and comes from the belief that witches and elves rode their sleeping victims, giving rise to the term nightmare for a bad dream.

The spell Nekane uses to enter the dreamtime is a translation of a line for Ruben Dario's "The Veil of Queen Mab." In Spanish, the line reads "el velo de los sueños, de los dulces sueños, que hacen ver la vida del color de rosa."

The words for Nekane's illusion spell come from the poem "Sands of Morpheus" by Eric Knickerbocker. The actual words from the poem are:

Morpheus, master of matchless dreams, silently gliding through moonlit beams.
Deftly, his fingers begin to weave, ivory dreams beneath the loom leave.

My thanks to X-Serac for letting me borrow Serac for this chapter. The inspiration was mission 13 out of his "Darkside" tales.

I know the adventure was lacking this time out, but the seeds sown should soon begin to bear fruit.