The following is rated M for explicit adult situations and may not be suitable for viewers under the age of 16.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real persons or events is unintentional.

The author recommends using 1/2 story width to better enjoy the story.


DISCLAIMER:
The story elements and characters
depicted are the property of Ken
Akamatsu and Kodansha. The
Author claims no ownership and
writes with authorization of ffnet.


Foreword: The following story assumes that Negi is immortal and does not physically age. It does not follow UQ Holder continuity.


Wanting to be with that person; hold on to your important feelings


The evening sky shimmered as brilliant sunlight radiated against gassy mirrors high overhead. A cold wind tore away fluttering threads of heat as it siphoned off the surface of the earth in clumpy pockets.

Negi Springfield knelt before a roughly cut out slab of stone, channelling a fine thread of magical energy through his fingertips as he etched in his last name. Looking on, Evangeline McDowell gazed between the boy working on the slab and the shallow mound of disturbed earth in front of them.

Satisfied with his efforts, Negi dug a pit roughly a meter deep and jammed the base of the slab into it. It was a stone slab no longer, but a grave marker for his mortal father. Then, still kneeling, he shifted himself backwards and lowered his head in a respectful bow. It was, after all, one of the final resting places of his father.

Only one tear had been shed that day, when Negi, on his father Nagi's instruction's, had come to pick up his ashes, neatly collected in a plain, straightforward urn that his father had fashioned himself. The urn, Negi kept, the ashes sent to Mundus Magicus where the politicians would squabble over its placement. Only the urn, with its crude indentations and rough shape, had any worthwhile meaning to him now.

But he kept some of the ashes, and brought them here, secretly, to Mahora Academy. And now, here they were, holding a private burial. Evangeline gazed straight at the ground as Negi stood up and walked to her.

"So, what now?" he said in Japanese.

She looked up, but not at him, and pondered silently.

Negi bowed slightly, took a short breath, then returned alone to Evangeline's cottage.

Evangeline looked over her shoulder at Negi's diminishing figure, holding her hair away from her eyes as it fluttered in the increasing gale. She licked her teeth behind her closed lips and sighed.

Then she went over to the shallow grave to squat before the tombstone. She rested her chin in her palm and tilted her gaze thoughtfully.

"I suppose," she began, in English, "that I should thank you. For dying. Since you remembered to set me free, and all."

She couldn't think of what to say next. She wasn't sure if she needed to say anything at all, and sat there in an awkward, self-imposed silence. As the sky gradually darkened, her eyes fell to the cracks and scratches Negi had left behind. She stared at them, tracing their path with her eyes, running her fingertips along the engraving which bore Nagi's dates of birth and death.

With a gentle, tentative blast of magic, she obliterated his date of death.

"Hmm…"

Evangeline pushed herself up with her hands, feeling the soft blades of grass cushion her palms, poking between her fingertips. She felt the moist, cool earth beneath her, where Nagi now resided, and looked up at the sky where Mars would be. Her lips curled into a smirk. She twisted her neck left and right, cracked her knuckles, and stretched her back.

"Stupid boy…"