A/N: The final chapter is here. The chapter title is inspired by the Live song. A big thank you to Eternal-Longing and the other reviewers. Your support is greatly appreciated. Last chapter I neglected to thank DragonKnightSevus for his help with designing the Monster Rumble cards as well as being a captive audience/reviewer. My thanks again Sevus.

Now for the standard disclaimer rot: I don't own Negima or its characters, but Hiro is my creation.

Where Do We Go From Here

Flight 741, originating in Tokyo, landed safely and taxied to the terminal. Restless passengers on the jumbo jet unbuckled and began to gather their belongings prior to the flight attendant's announcement. Sumiyoshi Tanaka, looking like any of the other businessmen, stood up and retrieved his bag from the overhead bin. Manila was just the first stop on his journey.

Waiting in line with his fellows, he silently groused. Sumiyoshi had given the assassin until the 17th to complete the contract, but he had expected the job to be finished after a few days. "How long can a school girl take?" he thought sourly. "So much for being highly recommended."

Still, he was confident of success. He smiled in anticipation of his revenge upon Zaibatsu Yukihiro. The past four years will have all been worth it when that bastard's daughter was taken care of. "That rich son-of-a-bitch will understand losing what you cherish most."

Like a safety valve turning, the hatch opened and passengers surged up the boarding ramp as rapidly as steam escaping from a pipe. As he entered the lobby, Sumiyoshi nervously patted his breast pocket for the passport. According to the forged document, his name was Gozaburo Sato. Reassured it was in place, he went in search of the flight information board.

The fugitive quickly found his flight to Sydney, but was disappointed by the words '2 hour delay' flashing where the departure time should be. "Damn!" he heard someone near him swear. "A 2 hour delay?"

The man turned to find the speaker was a rather attractive, young lady. She was dressed in a dark blue jacket and skirt. The jacket hung open to reveal a plain, white top that, in his opinion, was generously filled. Her long, black hair had two braids that hung in front of her chest while the remainder cascaded down her back. Sumiyoshi was pleased to note that the stocking clad legs where just as shapely as the rest of her. He guessed the woman to be in her early twenties.

"Are you going to Sydney too?" he asked.

"Not at this rate," she answered, her mouth curving into a wry smile. "Maybe I can find another flight." Though her Japanese was flawless, her dark complexion pointed to mixed ancestry.

"I'm afraid this is the last flight today," he told her. "Since we're in the same situation, perhaps you'll allow me to buy you a drink."

The young lady looked at him in what he thought was an appraising manner. "I don't believe we've been introduced."

"Please forgive my lack of manners," the man responded. "My name is Gozaburo Sato."

"Mana Tatsumiya," she replied. "Very well Mr. Sato, I accept your offer."

They found a table near the back of the bar. The waitress, wearing a skimpy uniform came by for their order and Sumiyoshi asked for a gin and tonic.

"Sex on the beach," his companion said. As the waitress walked away, she confided," I don't know what's in it, but I find the name intriguing."

While the two continued polite conversation, Sumiyoshi began to wonder if the woman was just as interested as he was. The dark-haired beauty didn't say anything outright, but her comments suggested a lot. If so, he could certainly tarry a few days in Sydney. As the man imagined how such a few days would be spent, he was interrupted by another's voice, "Mr. Tanaka."

The voice belonged to a tall, blonde-haired man. He was dressed in a rumpled, white suit and wore glasses. "I need to speak with you Mr. Tanaka," the stranger said.

Casually, Sumiyoshi took a sip from the glass. "I'm afraid you're mistaken," he calmly replied. "My name is Sato."

"Your name is Sumiyoshi Tanaka," the newcomer responded. "And you're wanted in Japan for assault with a deadly weapon and attempted murder."

The man in the suit pulled a chair close and sat down. "I'm Mr. Takahata," he introduced himself. "I'm from Mahora."

To stunned to think clearly, Sumiyoshi heard an ominous click. He turned and found himself staring down the barrel of a 9mm pistol. Quite different from her earlier smiles, Mana had a cold and calculating expression on her face. "Let's not cause a scene Mr. Tanaka," she said. "And for your information, Ayaka Yukihiro is a friend of mine."

"You don't really want to do this in a crowded bar?" the fugitive asked. Glancing about, he realized they were alone. His stomach felt like it had dropped several stories as he noted even the bartender and waitress had deserted their posts. "What do you want?"

Mr. Takahata grinned back, as if sharing in a joke with the man. "I need you to answer a few questions."

Kotaro tore through the deserted streets of Mahora. Being the final day of the Star Festival, everybody was attending one of the ending celebrations. Celebrations would have to wait a little longer he thought as he raced towards a certain hotel. For now, he was on a mission.

Scarcely thirty minutes ago he had been summoned to the headmaster's office. "Sit," the old man had said without the usual exchange of pleasantries. The dean spoke in a tone that instantly put the hanyo on guard. "I have something of the utmost importance to discuss with you."

"If this is about my school work," the boy started to say.

"This has nothing to do with you," the man interrupted. "We have information that a student's life is in danger."

Kotaro sat up straight. "What? Who?"

"A former business rival of her father has put a contract out on Ayaka Yukihiro," Konoemon told him. "Even now a hired killer is among the crowds attending the festival."

The boy's expression grew thoughtful. "A hired killer you say?"

"Yes," the headmaster answered as he examined the student closely. "Is something wrong?"

Kotaro shook his head. "It's nothing," he answered. "What do you need me to do?"

"Miss Yukihiro departs tomorrow morning for Wales," the dean said. "I want you to watch over her until she is safely out of the country."

"Since you room with her," the old man continued, "you are a position to notice anything suspicious."

"Suspicious, right," Kotaro thought as he reached the hotel. While searching for the front desk, he glanced about the place. "More like a dump that a hotel."

He found the manager, elbows propped on a counter, absorbed with a crossword puzzle. "I need information," Kotaro said.

"I got rooms," the man replied. "You need information, go to the library."

"What's a four letter word that means pull?" the manager suddenly asked.

"Jerk," the boy replied. As the man looked up, an offended expression on his face, the brown-haired boy explained, "Jerk is a four letter word meaning pull."

The man gazed down at the paper, shrugged his shoulders and penciled the word in.

"I need to find Hiro Sasuki."

"Not here," the manager responded. "He checked out this morning."

Silently, the boy cursed. "Can I see his room?"

"This isn't a museum."

Kotaro resisted the urge to grab the man's throat and throttle him on the spot. "How much to see his room?"

The mention of money got the other's attention. "Rooms cost 4500 a night."

Since he wasn't in the habit of carrying that much money around, the hanyo thought it over for a moment. "Do you rent by the hour?"

After paying for half an hour, Kotaro turned the key and pushed the door open. He quickly scanned the room and then headed straight to the dresser. Opening the bottom drawer, he found Ayaka's picture where he had last seen it. Carefully, the boy picked it up and examined it. His blood ran cold as he noted a perfect, round hole in the middle of the girl's forehead. The hole had been circled with a black marker and written below it were the words 'At 500 meters.'

The world tree stage was jammed to capacity for the festival's closing ceremony, while a larger crowd milled just outside. Anticipation ran high as they waited for the end of the official events, then the real party would begin.

Yuna and her recently returned friends walked around the fringes of the crowd, trying to catch up on all of the news. She was dying to tell them all about the rescue, but had promised Chizuru she wouldn't talk about it. And too, that would mean mentioning Hiro, something the basketball player didn't want to do.

He seemed like such a nice guy, and then turned out to be a fortune hunter. Sometimes Yuna envied the president for her family's money, but not this time. Ayaka never seemed to get a break.

"What do you think of the paint job on the class rep's plane?" Makie asked. The girls invited to travel with Ayaka to Wales had seen it that morning. Their home room teacher's smiling face covered a third of the private jet's exterior.

"It's really something," Akira remarked politely.

"Yeah, but do you want to ride in that?" the gymnast asked.

"Well, I want to go to Wales," Ako said. The pale-haired girl hoped to meet with Negi's cousin on the trip. "And that's the only way."

"You're pretty quiet Yuna," Makie observed. "Is anything wrong?"

"No, nothing," the girl replied. She spotted Kotaro up ahead; his head twisted around as if searching for something. "Isn't that Natsumi's little brother?"

"That's him alright," Ako answered. "He's in the infirmary enough that I recognize him on sight."

"You don't think he's lost do you?" Akira asked.

"Let's help him," Yuna suggested. "Hey Kotaro."

The boy turned and waved in greeting.

"You're sister, Chizuru and Ayaka are over at the stage," Yuna told him as the girls approached.

"I know that," the boy replied. He pointed to a nearby building. "How far would you say that is from the stage?"

"About 400 meters," Yuna replied.

"Closer to 500," Akira corrected.

"Thought so," the boy cryptically commented. "See you later."

They watched as he rushed off, weaving his way around the knots of people. "I wonder what his hurry is," Makie said. "Where are you going Yuna?"

"I'll be back," the girl called over her shoulder as she hiked up the yukata and took off in pursuit. She caught up to the boy behind the building. Leaning over, hands on knees, Yuna gasped for air. "You're fast for a little kid," she finally managed to say.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing," she replied. "You're up to something. What is it?"

Yuna watched the boy's face as he considered his answer. She could imagine the little gears in his head spinning wildly and wanted to laugh aloud. "You remember that Hiro guy?" he asked.

The girl nodded in response and Kotaro continued. "I think he's planning on causing trouble during the closing ceremony."

"Are you serious?" she asked in shock. "Why would he do that?"

"Ayaka clocked him pretty good when she found out what he was up to," the boy told her. "He could still be plenty mad."

"I checked around the stage earlier," he said, "and this is the only place left with a clear view of the stage."

A large grin appeared on the basketball player's face. "So what are we going to do?"

"I'm going to check it out," Kotaro answered. "And you're going to stay out of this."

"As if," Yuna replied.

"You'd just be in the way," the boy insisted. "Unlike Negi, I don't need a partner."

Something clicked in Yuna's mind at the word partner. The phrase 'Future Partners' had bothered her since she read them on the back of the photograph. Negi would have been a baby when she was five and he came from Wales. At the beginning of the year, Asuna had mentioned he needed a partner or something bad would happen. Could it be that the white bundle she was holding in the picture was her homeroom teacher? Was it possible her mother had intended for them to get together? Married? Family?

Her head began to ache as thoughts collided against one another. The dark-haired girl shook her head and thrust that line of reasoning away for the time being. "You may not need a partner," she told Kotaro, "but you've got one now."

To Yuna's surprise, he quickly caved in. "You start on the ground floor and I'll take the roof," the boy said. "We'll meet somewhere in the middle."

"How are you getting to the roof?"

"See that tree?" he replied while pointing to a tall tree near the building. "That branch goes nearly to the roof."

Yuna didn't think the branch was that close, but she watched as Kotaro scampered up the tree as easily as a monkey. He ran across the limb and the end bent under his weight. It snapped back and propelled the boy upward. His hand caught hold of the roof's edge and he pulled himself over.

Once he was out of sight, she stripped the yukata off, revealing her gym uniform. "He's so predictable," she thought, sprinting towards the tree. "If he's on the roof, that's where the action is."

Yuna found the climb harder than she expected. After pausing for a short rest, she inched her way across the limb, stopping as it bent too far for her comfort. The roof didn't look any closer here than it had from the ground. She backed up to the trunk and considered her next move. Deciding that if Natsumi's little brother could do it, so could she, Yuna sprang forward. The branch bent under her as she prepared to leap, and the sound of a "crack" filled her ears.

Had this been a movie, no doubt she would have a clever comment to make. At the moment however, the only thought she had was "Oh, shit!" Desperately, Yuna flung her hand out and grabbed hold of a window ledge. She pulled herself onto the narrow space and spent the next few minutes thanking heaven for the divine intervention. Clinging to her perch, she looked up at the roof that was so tantalizingly close.

Refusing to surrender, she stood and braced each foot against the window frame. Cautiously, she inched her way higher. Still, the roof was just out of reach. Mustering her last bit of courage, she dug her fingertips into the gaps between the bricks and lifted her foot to the thin lip of the frame. Moving without further thought, she pushed up and grasped the roof edge. A moment more and she lay on the roof, fighting the urge to be sick.

She was behind the housing for the stairs and though she couldn't see them, Yuna heard Kotaro and Hiro speaking.

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

"That's right," Hiro answered. "And Ayaka Yukihiro's my target."

Another wave of nausea rolled over Yuna. "Killer?" she thought as she managed to get unsteadily to her feet.

"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 said flatly.

"How do you figure that?"

"Over the past few weeks, you've had any number of opportunities kill her, but you haven't," Kotaro pointed out. "And when you came back all beat up and stuff, I thought that guy got the drop on you. You just wanted to pulverize the creep for hitting Ayaka didn't you?"

"Today, in your room, I find a clue that tells me where you'll be," he continued. "You want me to stop you."

Yuna heard the sound of a rifle bolt ram home as Hiro responded, "Don't count on it."

The loudspeaker from the stage announced that recognition of the committees was next. Yuna stepped from behind the stairs to confront them. "Stop him!" she yelled.

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

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

Hiro raised the rifle to his shoulder. To Yuna's eye, he moved in slow motion as she leaped into action. Kotaro dove to intercept her, but she had played basketball long enough to know how to fake an opponent. She started right, stopped and spun to her left, continuing around the boy as his momentum carried him past. She hit Hiro with a flying tackle.

Her elation turned to terror as she felt both of them plummet over the edge. Jerking to a sudden stop, she watched the man strike the pavement below. Holding her ankles, Kotaro hauled her back onto the roof. The sound of Ayaka's thunderous ovation carried to them as Yuna buried her face into the boy's shoulder and sobbed until her tears ran dry.

Four stories below, a crumpled form lay unmoving. A custom made, sniper's rifle rested a few meters away. Too small for most people to spot, a grey-winged moth hovered over the body. As it began to flutter away, it was attracted to something that gleamed in the light. The insubstantial creature alighted upon a locket shaped as a pair of intertwined hearts. Its wings furled and unfurled in a steady pattern like a beating heart. Once again the moth took to the air, returned to the still body and waited as if it had all of eternity.