Disclaimer:

Love Hina and Mahou Sensei Negima is the creative property of Ken Akamatsu, who created this wonderful anime/manga series. Shingetsugan Tsukihime and Fate/stay night is the creative property of TYPE-MOON. Anything not attributed to Akamatsu-san or TYPE-MOON belongs to their respective owners, such as references to Cowboy Bebop (the Swordfish II) that is a creation of Sunrise and Shinichiro Watanabe, BLEACH is a creation of Kubo Tite, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a high school student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further adieu, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk. Multiple pairings inside folks, with KanaxKei and KanaxNegi, just to name a few! You never know what you're going to get so read on (I might even do some alternative stuff, if you know what I mean).

Blue Blue Glass Moon, Under the Crimson Air

I Wanna Go To A Place...

Chapter 04:

Exposition

A Love Magister Hina Negima! fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

The end of the school year: the inevitable conclusion of another challenging year of nurturing the youth of tomorrow into role model citizens of the future. Yes, it was a wonderful time to be young and a horrible time to be old, and that was how Takamichi Takahata preferred to look at things from his humble perspective. To interpret his job in any other fashion would lead him to think in earnest --- and that was something troublesome that he absolutely wanted to avoid. He was extraordinarily content with the way things were running at Mahora Academy, and for the life of him, would not have had it any other way.

Being Takamichi T. Takahata, PhD, an English professor was --- good.

He was also "extraordinarily content" to spend one last morning in his old classroom, that is Class 2-A, as this would be the last time he would likely be teaching in this room. This place certainly brought back old memories of mayhem and trouble beyond anything the human mind could imagine. Takamichi with his graying dark hair could only wonder how his young replacement will fare amongst his former students, but he imagined the young spunky fellow ought to be able to take care of things just fine.

After all, his replacement was a magister magi (in training).

Oh, what's this I hear? The door opening? thought the bespectacled man as he turned from the window to face the entrance door to his classroom.

Smile Face.

Ugh.

Why did it have to be Smile Face? Kanako bemoaned to herself in disdain, her face an expressionless mask. She had come to her classroom hoping not to meet anyone at all for that matter, instead she had to run into one of the faculty members that she had disliked from the moment she had met him. "Good morning --- Takahata-sensei."

Takahata's roguish face lit up a benevolent smile, clearly ignoring the impersonal tone in her voice. Taking little things personally was not a part of his job description, and he really didn't mind the girl's attitude at all. It was a refreshing change from the norm. "Ah, why I'd know that voice from anywhere! Good morning to you too, Urashima-kun. Please, no need to be a stranger as this place will be classroom as of today, so step inside."

The younger girls and the other members of the faculty might have been enchanted by his charm, but the raven-haired girl was not impressed. Something about Takamichi Takahata, an accomplished respectable man in his thirties, had rubbed her the wrong way from the start. It was not as so she felt that he threatened her intellect. His presence, however, was far from comforting. There was a cutting intelligence hidden behind those seemingly earnest green eyes of his, and undoubtedly, he was watching her every move at this very moment, gauging her as a possible threat.

"Of course, Sensei. Please, pardon my rudeness," she replied with a formal bow, before stepping past the threshold and closing the door shut behind her. Her hazel eyes noted with some interest that the window Takahata was standing by was opened, letting in a cool morning draft into the classroom.

"Hahaha! Manners and propriety above all else first, eh, Tensai-sama?"

"'Even plain parents can produce a genius child,' or so the proverb goes."

"Ah, indeed, but you seem to be the exception to the rule, don't you think so, Urashima-kun?"

"I admit my parents tend to make principles run afoul as I share characteristics that aren't present in either of them."

"I wouldn't be too sure on that, at least from my perspective. I think you're very much like your parents despite their so-called eccentric behavior. Your aniue is a good example as well."

Aniue? How old fashioned of the man, but of the two of them, Keitaro-niisan is most like our parents, Kanako conceded to herself. "So you say, Takahata-sensei."

"Heh-haha, take it easy, Urashima-kun. We've all already been informed by the Headmaster of your special circumstances, and the conditions you personally set forth in your contract. I think it's a bit unusual myself, but I've seen Konoe-ojiisan do crazier things in the past to be honest. If you keep your end of the bargain, we'll keep ours --- just don't be too rough on your classmates, all right?"

"Why, Sensei, I have no idea what you're talking about. I simply reserved the right to stand up for myself and defend whatever I deem fit without unnecessary interference. Konoe-san assured me personally that these were the best and brightest of his students."

"Still, they still are just children," Takahata laughed sheepishly. Darn it, I'm already starting to feel nostalgic over my students, and on top of that, I'm starting to feel sorry too for letting Urashima Kanako have a free go at them. She's going to tear them to pieces and make life a whole lot more interesting around here. I think I'm going to miss those quiet days I used to have.

Kanako shrugged and began to approach him at her own easy pace. "Then as children, they must learn to stand on their own two feet, should they not?"

The English professor yielded his agreement with a nod, moving towards her as he extended out his hand in a customary handshake. He was beginning to understand now just how different the hazel-eyed girl was from his students. She was like Evageline A.K. McDowell in the sense that she was very much like an adult trapped in a child's body, but unlike "Eva," this girl had absolutely no qualms with using her strength on a whim. There was an awesome resolution in her eyes, which must have caught the Headmaster's notice immediately when he met her firsthand, that bespoke of the great things --- and the terrible things she could accomplish.

Takamichi Takahata was finally beginning to understand why Konoemon Konoe had gone through such great lengths to bring her to Mahora Academy.

After all...

...there were plenty of other "parties" involved who would kill to have her aboard; her potential was simply too much, too open to be ignored. The Urashima family likely had no idea what they had in their hands.

"Well, congratulations to you, Urashima-kun, and the best of the remainder of the third semester to you," said Takahata as he shook the girl's hand heartily. They had met together by the teacher's desk. "I'm certain we'll be expecting great things from you, ojou-sama, especially this April when the new school year and the new semester starts!"

Kanako was tempted for an instant to fire back a cutting retort. She was about a step away from hating his guts. This man was hiding something, just like the crotchy old man. She could feel it! However, her attention was promptly diverted elsewhere, catching a glimpse of something --- odd --- in the corner of her eye. She released her hand from the green-eyed man's grasp gently; after all, she wasn't beyond basic civility despite the man's despicable nature.

Giving him a brief bow in wordless thanks, the raven-haired genius then turned her attention towards the source of her inquiry, an empty desk by the very same window Takahata had been standing by just moment's ago. "Excuse me, but who sits there?"

"Eh?" Now, he definitely was not expecting her to ask him a question.

"Over there, that desk by the window."

Oh great. Why did she have to pick that desk of all the thirty-one student desks allotted to Class 2-A?

"Oh, that desk, huh?"

"Yes."

"Well-"

"Is something the matter, Takahata-sensei?"

"Huh?"

"Your eyes are fidgeting," Kanako hissed earning a look of astonishment on the man's face. She stepped around him dismissively and headed towards the mysterious desk, her hazel brown eyes sharp with intent focus.

The desk was ordinary enough. There was also a built-in compartment underneath the table for students to put their books and such in for easy access. The student desks were wide so they could seat two students to a desk.

Ordinary, and completely deceiving; there was something in the first seat of this desk. Her spirit senses might not have been as strong as her brother's, but she could sense it clearly, a cold presence that was out of place with the rest of the room. There was a great spiritual force here, and it was hard to imagine why she had not felt previously. Had it been hiding its presence before she arrived in this room? This entity could very well be a formidable opponent, if it was capable of masking its presence.

Wait a minute, what's this feeling I sense? she thought to herself, reaching out tentatively over the desk towards the seat. This feeling... I know this feeling!

Sorrow, a deep horrible sadness. It was --- WHAT?

Suddenly, Kanako lurched back, her eyes wide with shock. A kaleidoscope of colors flashed before her eyes as the world zoomed away, drowning her in darkness. The creeping shadows shifted with faces, haunting hollow eyes gazing at her. She could hear the beat of heart pounding in her ears, her breath, her skin. Their screams, she could hear them screaming! Blood; there was blood everywhere! It was flowing from the walls and the ceiling, seeping through the tiles of the floor, a crimson sea of murder.

Something --- something --- terrible happened here.

Anata wa soko imasu ka?

This distorted voice, is it speaking directly in my mind? It's not a man or woman's voice, it's both.

Anata wa soko imasu ka?

'Are you there?' Is that what its asking? What does it mean asking me something like that? Am I really here?

Anata wa soko imasu ka?

I...

Anata wa soko imasu ka?

I'm-!

"Stop!" a girl's voice cried out, "Please, don't answer it!"

What?

Kanako saw it briefly then, the flash of white in an instant silhouetting the outline of a feminine figure, dressed in an old out-of-date school uniform. She had long hair, a bluish gray-white, all arrayed about her like a funeral shroud.

Amber-red eyes; they glowed like embers from a flame.

"You'll die if you do!"

"Urashima, you okay?" shouted a familiar deep baritone in her ears.. It was a voice she disliked --- a lot. "Hey, get a hold of yourself!"

Her eyelids fluttered open and she was greet with the sight of Takamichi Takahata's worried face, marked aged lines of concern. For once, his green eyes did not seem to be hiding anything (or so she thought) as he held her steady by the shoulders. She was sitting down in a comfy chair behind the teacher's desk with her schoolbag parked on the floor beside her.

"Ta-ka-hata?" Her voice was weak, much too weak.

"My God, Urashima, you look like a mess!"

"What --- happened?"

"All of a sudden you just went nuts screaming on the top of your lungs. I had stop you from trying to hurt yourself on purpose."

"Hurting myself?"

"Yes, you scared the hell out of me! The Headmaster didn't say anything about you having seizures or some psycho-medical condition."

"Aren't --- you --- on duty?"

"Huh?" Takahata spluttered in confusion. What was she talking about now? Here he was worrying sick about the girl and she was talking about "his duty"?

"This classroom --- has a perfect view of --- the main entrance to school. It's --- you're on duty to watch the commotion, right?"

"Well, of course-"

"Then go. I --- I hear some --- trouble out there."

Not bothering to think things through anymore, the bespectacled man quickly shot a glance back out the windows and sure enough there was a huge crowd gathered out front. It looked like a big fight from a distance, and this was not the sort of fiasco he wanted to see in the morning compared to the usual stampede of students. "What in the-tsk!"

Takahata made a face, and if a certain paparazzi in the know had stopped by, she would have snapped up the scoop in an instant and blessed her stars for such a lucky moment. Takamichi Takahata was not the type of person to dredge up negative vibes, yes sirree. This would have had "His Majesty Takahata's Women" (his official fan club) up in arms!

"Go away, Sensei; I'll be fine," Kanako spoke up in a whisper. Some of her strength had begun to return in her voice, but her complexion was still very pale and sickly. "You have job to do, don't you, Smile Face?"

Smile Face? Now that remark definitely raised his eyebrows up. He was about to protest his own prompt departure; however, the prodigy child shut him up with a look before he could even speak, an impressive feat for someone of her tender age. She truly was something special. Thus, he smiled reluctantly, realizing he could not act beyond his station and the rules set by her contract. "All right, if you say so, Tensai-sama."

Takahata left without another word at a brisk sprint, leaving her alone to her own devices. For that small gesture, he earned a minor measure of respect from the raven-haired girl. Kanako mused that at least the man could follow orders reasonably well as she recovered her schoolbag and staggered up to her feet. Everything was awfully blurry to her, a heady fainting spell gradually casting itself upon her but still she refused to pass out.

That's Keitaro-niisan's job, and since he's not here right now, I'm not about to just drop like a rock in a disgusting place like this.

The commotion outside was getting worse. She could hear people clearly airing their grievances back and forth to the entire neighborhood; in fact, it sounded like two enraged girls, well, a woman and a girl. Curious, Kanako hobbled towards the windows and gazed out towards the scene. Sure enough, it was a woman with blonde hair and an auburn-haired girl, who was noticeably in a state of undress, as most of her clothes lay in tatters on the ground. Betwixt the two parties was a young boy huddled on the ground in a heap with another young girl, red ribbons in the ponytails of her freed hair; she was trying to console him apparently.

Amazingly, Takahata managed to get out there in a flash and was busy trying to hold back the woman who was flailing her arms madly, shouting at the scantly clad girl in a mix of Japanese and English. Some of the things the woman saying would have rightly made a soldier blush in embarrassment. There were some things that people honestly should not say in public, especially in regards to the Queen of England.

Meanwhile, a fellow female classmate on rollerblades was trying to hold back the said girl, but was not having much success thanks to her rollerblades. An additional tall blonde-haired girl had to step in and help the rollerblade girl out. Needless to say, it was quite the spectacle and it was holding up student traffic remarkably well. Members of the faculty were descending down on the scene like riot police to sort things out.

"Incredible --- the whole school already went stupid this early in the morning?" Kanako noted with a mischievous gleam in her wary eyes. "If they're this worked up over a silly thing like that, kukukuku --- they have no idea what's in store for them."

Glancing about face, she noticed a lone empty desk sitting at the back of the classroom, and to her weary mind, it was the perfect spot to rest for a few minutes.

She didn't plan to catnap at all...

...honest.

To Be Continued...

Cultural Notes:

Japanese schools typically run on a three semester/term system versus the typical American system, which consists of 2 semesters broken up into 4 quarters in total. This means that report cards are only handed 3 times a year, instead of 4 like us folks in the States.

Thank you for your time.