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 39:

Rain and The Warrior Woman

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

For a moment, the sky had been quiet, too quiet in fact, and then he knew exactly what was going to happen. First, a slow trickle, the gentle pitter-patter of falling rain, before the black heavens promptly kicked things off with a roar of "shock and awe." Lightning flashed, the wind howled, the sky rumbled terribly, and then the rain poured down in waves of needles, each one seeking purchase upon his flesh, like angry hornets.

Keitaro darted miserably from awning to awning in front of various cafes and stores. Naturally, traffic had died down in the busy streets of Kabuki-cho and its denizens had promptly taken shelter within its many fine establishments, leaving the streets empty for him. He would have certainly liked to be inside, safe and warm, and if he was lucky, he might have even gotten some company.

Of course, Kanako, his dear little sister, would have had him by the balls, quicker than a striking viper, if she learned that he had spent any --- amount of time in Kabuki-cho, Shinjuku's much lauded red-light district.

Yeah, I don't think I'd like that to happen any time soon, he thought with a minor chuckle, as he forged through the ambient rushing din of the oppressive rain. The last time she did that, I barely managed to get away, and she's gotten a whole lot faster since then. I might not be as lucky this time.

The ronin briskly rounded the corner, bounding over a stray puddle with a laugh. He was not quite soaked to the bone yet, but at the rate he was going, it would not take too long. Unfortunately, he was in an unfamiliar part of Kabuki-cho and had no clue how long it would take him to reach Shinjuku Station to catch the first metro ride out of here. In other words...

He was lost.

Charging up the intersection, Keitaro caught a glimpse of something, red and white, standing in the middle of the street. The vague outline of a tall human figure, feminine, drew him to a halt, his shoe clad feet splashing beneath upon the hard pavement of the sidewalk. Again odd feelings of familiarity rose in him, as he glanced at the distant woman, like he had experienced with the young man carrying the unconscious girl earlier.

The feelings perturbed him, and they would not go away no matter how much he tried to dismiss. Defeated, the ronin figured he ought to get a little closer for a better look at her. Besides, it was not like it could possibly hurt him, right?

She had long dark hair all the way past her waist, black probably with an emerald luster; in fact, thanks to the rain, her drenched hair stood out with a brilliant green color. The clothes she wore, a red hakama and white gi, were soaked through to the bone, but luckily her gi was made of a rather sturdy material and did not go transparent completely. If it had gone transparent, he would have fainted instantly with a monstrous nosebleed. Still, Keitaro could make out the outline of her trim, attractive figure easily, much to his blushing embarrassment.

However, those extraneous thoughts were quickly dashed from his conscience when he laid eyes upon her pale beautiful face, as he felt his heart wrench at the sight. There was no mistake about it, the blackness of incomprehensible sorrow radiating from her dark olive green eyes, and it consumed everything. Yes, now he noticed the unnatural paleness about her, to the point where he could see the blue throbbing veins upon her throat and hands.

The golden bells attached to the red cord wound around the wooden cane in her left hand gave a haunting twinkle when her hand shifted ever so slightly, and then suddenly, Keitaro remembered her. His dark brown eyes widened in recognition as his legs carried him forward on impulse, with slow measured steps. Yes, she was the strange Kyoto woman from the train this morning!

What was she doing here out in the rain? How long had she been just standing there? Oh dear, he really hoped she had not caught pneumonia or something worse, that pale complexion and those blue veins could not mean well. Hell, she scarcely looked to be even breathing anymore, just standing there, looking up at the sky with that --- hollow look.

SCREECH!

Keitaro whirled about upon the sudden source of the screech of tires, his intense eyes locking onto the truck barreling down the street at lethal breakneck speed. The engine gave a terrible roar, and the headlight flared brightly, blinding to the eye, as it picked up even more speed, spitting out water from the slick road underneath its tires. He did not know if his eyes were playing tricks on him, but he could have sworn that he saw it: an amorphous black aura tinged with crimson radiating outwards from the truck, murderous and hungering.

There was no doubt in his mind what was about to happen.

He pivoted about on his heel, the pavement slick underneath his feet, and bolted from the spot down the sidewalks towards the woman. The super heated rush of adrenaline lit his veins on fire, urging him to move faster, pumping his limbs, the rain splattering in thick shocking sheets against his body. Time slowed to a crawl with each forced, ragged breath he took, a fierce determination upon his pale face.

How much time did he have? How fast was the truck moving? How much further did he have to go? These were the questions that shot through his frenzied mind at a kilometer per second, each heartbeat bringing him closer to the inevitable, and the most important questions:

Would he make it in time? Could he make it in time? Was this something he could do on his own? Was he really strong enough to do this? He did not know, did not have a clue, but he could not stop now! He was already here, running as hard as he could. He had to make it, somehow...

Desperately, Keitaro screamed through his burning legs as he rounded the bend and hit the asphalt, the corrosive acid building in his tense muscles, in the faint hope alerting the still unsuspecting woman. The sky flashed white and roared with thunder, drowning his voice and the insidious din of the runaway truck in its vastness. He honestly did not have a prayer in the world of succeeding.

From the corner of his eye, the ronin could see the blinding glare of the truck, a black silhouette of death with huge glaring eyes of white, baring down on him and the woman. He had five, or worse --- maybe three seconds left to go. At a hundred kilometers per hour, the front hood of the two-and-a-half ton truck would disintegrate on impact when it struck the woman. Enveloping the body in a deadly embrace of cold steel and shrapnel, it would effectively crush the blood and life out of the victim in a terrifying instant. The odds were...

To Hell with the odds! I know I can't do it. I KNOW I CAN'T DO IT! Just like how I failed the Tokyo U entrance exam... But, saving a person's life and getting into Tokyo U --- aren't they two different things, dammit! I'm just too damned STUPID to stop right now. Idiot. Moron. Fool. Bakayarou...

I'm going to save her! thought Keitaro with fiery determination, his eyes fixed firmly upon one thing and one thing only: the strange woman from Kyoto.

There was no time left; the moment of crisis, and he did the only thing he could do, he leapt from his feet, diving head first, his arms reaching out with a cry...

"LOOK OUT!"

SCCCCCRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEECH!

White.

Death.

Come to me, sweet Death.

She had been so certain that this time --- this time for sure she would finally be in the sweet release of death, an eternal embrace that no mortal would ever break or care to break. Pain, suffering, agony, misery, sorrow; the dead could no longer feel because death had set them free. Oh, she had heard it coming from a mile away, a presence tainted by something unnatural, but it was a mere pawn, of course, and like any pawn, it was simply racing to its destination.

It would have been easy, child's play to dispense with the nuisance, but this time --- this time, she had no plans to cheat death yet again. Everything was lost; all gone; all wasted away. What was the use for her to continue living? Who should she live for? The clan? The Shinmei Ryu? The Kensai Association? The Magi? Bah! Why should she care about them anymore when there was nothing worth protecting? Did they not understand she had lost everything and the only thing left that had mattered?

No; of course, they would not understand. After all, what had they sacrificed? Nothing. Yes, she would die here and now, and release herself from this living hell, caught in the jaws of duty and damnation. There was nothing left to be ashamed of; she had done everything they had asked and more. Besides, by her reckoning, the impact would be instantaneously lethal, her chances of survival zero.

Yes; she had no intention of cheating death.

If that is so, why is it that I still breathe? wondered Tsuruko with resigned self-reproach. What by the Heavens could have possibly made me live? Come to think of it, what happened to the rain? The storm? The thunder? The-!

It was then that the dark-haired woman registered the sensations: the strange yet familiar warmth of a body beneath her, and the vitality of his arms, holding her intimately close, shielding her with his own body. The tender beat of his heart upon her fingertips, she could feel the unspoken promise he had made to her that he would save her no matter what the cost. He knew her and somehow she had the same feeling as well, and though he did not know her very well, she had been worth something to him.

Something worth protecting.

"H-Hey... Kyoto no Onna-san, are you okay?" her savior rasped amiably as he stirred weakly with a groan. She desperately wanted to respond, a flood of questions just waiting to burst from the tip of her tongue, but before she could, the young man held her closer with one arm and shifted himself up into a sitting position.

Tsuruko was speechless. There she was in the arms of a younger man, her head laying against his firm and quite muscular chest, close enough for her to hear the steady, easy beat of his heart. Needless to say, it had been a long, long time since she had been this close to someone (four years, in fact) with such intensity, and a hot girlish blush crept easily onto her face. For once, she was willing to break with propriety completely of her own volition and not even for the sake of courtesy either.

Besides, why not? She did not exactly have much else left to lose now, did she?

"W-Who --- who are you?" she blurted out impulsively with a gasp as she drew back against his grip. Perhaps anticipating her intention, the young man released just enough slack so she could look him in the eye.

Dark brown hair, spectacles, those sincere chocolate brown eyes that brimmed with warmth and kindness, and that sheepish smile on his face, a little self-conscious of his own boldness. It was him; she recognized him undoubtedly, the same young man from this morning, the other half of the two siblings. Were they like yin and yang, and if so, who was yin, cool and receptive, and who was yang, hot and aggressive?

He winced. "Urashima, Urashima Keitaro. Looks like to me, we made it out all right somehow, although my back must be pretty bruised and busted up."

Tsuruko worked the sound of Urashima's name in her mouth, feeling how it sounded, how it tasted, and committing it to memory, permanently. U-ra-shi-ma. Kei-ta-ro. It was a good name; a good name for a --- good man.

Wait a second here, where did that come from?

"Ummm, anou, uhhh --- is there something on my face?" Keitaro asked sheepishly. He noticed that the Kyoto Woman was staring at him rather helplessly as the crimson flush on her face only deepened further. Why was she blushing? She was probably embarrassed about something, but what? Was it because he was...

The dark-haired woman sweated. "Ao-A-Aoyama Tsu-Tsuru-Tsuruko; um, how is your back, Urashima-kun?"

Huh, Urashima-kun? Well, I suppose my guess was right that she was older than me, after all. "Ah-hehehe, don't worry about it, Aoyama-san. Though I don't look like it, I'm made of pretty tough stuff. So, uh, how are you?"

"I --- I, etou..." she mumbled awkwardly, pinned by his equally nervous gaze. Does something ail me? I am stuttering like a new disciple on her first mission! I am a grown woman, a master of the Shinmei Ryu, and a distinguished honorable no-bushi of the Kensai. So why am I...

"Um, do you think you can stand, Ao-yama-san? Of course, I'll help you stand, but --- well, if you really want to --- I guess, we could...you know." Keitaro's once modest blush brightened visibly.

Now to be frank, he had no qualms whatsoever with being as close he was to Tsuruko. Without the wide-brimmed bamboo hat she had worn earlier today, it became readily apparent to him that Tsuruko Aoyama, the strange woman from Kyoto, was very easy on the eyes. He was amazed that every blood vessel in his body had not exploded yet, thanks to this his unique condition, an allergy related to close physical contact with intent from females. Of course, his "allergy" tended to be rather indiscriminate and even just being in the presence of girls had been enough back in the day to aggravate it.

It was only because of Kanako's unrelenting persistence that the ronin finally built something of a tolerance to it. This was all much to the chagrin of the many bewildered doctors and specialists who had been working with him in therapy. He had to wonder if they were really that sincere about helping him.

The dark-haired woman gave him an awkward smile, which he interpreted as a "Yes" to his previous question, and he gently separated himself from her. As Keitaro stood up, brushing himself off, he realized Tsuruko would be the second woman today (the glamorous, ethereal Yuuko Ichihara being the other) who had come in contact with him today. It was a stunning realization with equally stunning implications. What was happening to him? Were things starting to change for the better today?

Tsuruko did her best to ignore the soft trembling that gripped her limbs the moment Keitaro separated himself from her side. She reasoned that both of their clothes were soaked and she was a little cold. However, it was impossible to deny the subtle stirring of her heart, as soon as she clasped the young man's outstretched hand. An unfamiliar yet familiar warmth bloomed in the pit of her stomach, this pleasant contradiction; she had felt it before --- once.

"Thank --- Thank you very much, Urashima-kun. I..." she drifted off unable to meet his gaze now that they stood face to face. Of course, the very act of trying to avert her gaze was a touch difficult as she was a little taller than him. Pardon my transgression, O Great Ancestors, but for once I wish I was not so tall and proud. It is very awkward, that it is, to avoid someone's gaze when they are shorter than you.

Keitaro blinked blankly at Tsuruko, two distinct thoughts impressing themselves. Wow, Aoyama-san is tall for a girl --- umm, I mean --- woman, uhh, lady, yeah... It's a good thing her white gi is pretty thick, or otherwise, well --- nahhhh, I can't really tell. I'd say she's just about well-endowed as --- or are they even bigger? Nope, I can't really tell even if she's completely soaked. Still, I'd think she'd be in about the same level as Ichihara-san, although with a completely different class...

Hold up.

Why am I checking her out?

Is he --- what is that new "hip" jargon that young people like to use these days? --- checking me out? wondered Tsuruko with a touch of embarrassment --- and oddly enough, gratification. A ghost of a smile joined her blushing cheeks, as she pulled up the sleeve of her gi to veil her mouth, a product of proper etiquette from her many years of training.

The woman was giggling, a faint coquettish tone that made him gulp. Keitaro had the worst feeling that she was on to him, but if that was the case, why did she not beat the snot out of him yet? Geez, maybe I'm starting to change for the worse instead. Shirai and Haitani are really bad for me, I swear, though they keep saying they got nothing but the best interests in mind to "boost" my "manliness factor."

Yeah, right...

Keitaro laughed, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, "Um, look, I..."

"I meant, what I said, Urashima-kun. Thank you for saving me," Tsuruko told him firmly, clasping her hands before her waist, and bowing formally. Her earlier awkwardness and astonishment had at last given way to the cool calm of balance and harmony, the stillness of a warrior's heart --- and the warrior's sorrow.

"Ah-hahahah! Well, I-!"

"Why?" Why did you save me?

Keitaro gulped hesitantly, the weight of the woman's dark olive green eyes pinning him to the spot, searching the very depths of his soul through his eyes. If he lied, she would know. Those were not ordinary eyes in the slightest, and they ignited a cold flame in his heart, making every inch of his body tense. There were only two other people to his knowledge who had those kind of eyes: Haruka-obasan, his aunt, and Hina-obaachan, his grandmother.

"Well..." Here it comes... "...I suppose, you wanted to kill yourself, didn't you?"

Suicide.

To Be Continued...

Author's Note

Wow, it's chapter 39! So close, the 75-percent mark. Something of an early update here. We're about to hit the last set of rails, the last of this massive AU exposition because we're going to be screaming through Negima! in earnest. Of course, I imagine y'all wondering why the heck we had to do so much stuff --- the answer to which I cannot say, but you will eventually discover for yourselves. And boy, is the "Love Hina Harem Effect" in full force or what? This can't mean a good thing can it?

Still, how did they manage to survive exactly? Where are they? What the heck did Tsuruko mean about those four years? What's her story this time around? What happened to her in the past? What did she do exactly? How could Motoko's rejection hurt her this bad?

Well, maybe we'll find out on the next episode Glass Moon-desu!

Reviewers and readers alike, well, I'd like to thank you all very much for your continued patronage as always. Remember, I encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the maestro here.

So without further adieu, that wraps it up, folks (see you again around mid-next week): GOOOAAAAAALLLLL!

Omake!

Naze Nani Glass Moon Desu

Episode Preview!

Chapter 40:

Similarities

"How old do you think I am, Keitaro-kun?"

Tsudzuku!