Mahou Ashikabi Negima
A Negima and Sekirei crossover fanfiction
Based on concepts developed by Zaru and Juubi-K
Written by Juubi-K
It began as the sun rose.
The ships approached the island, their mighty shapes silhouetted against the rising sun. They moved in close formation, ready to support one-another against attack.
But nothing came. No swarm of missiles, no shoal of torpedoes, not even the roar of gunfire. The island before them, a craggy mass of grey rock jutting out of the water, appeared entirely deserted.
The soldiers and sailors set about their work. One of the ships, a destroyer, held position off the coast. The transports dipped in the water, like a bird stooping to drink, their bow doors clunking open. Landing craft slid easily from the open doors, sweeping over the surf to shore beyond. Helicopters took off from the assault carrier, spreading out over the island.
It was going smoothly. Very smoothly. The landing was thus far completely unopposed.
Unopposed, but not unobserved.
Five figures stood on a rock outcropping, gazing down at the unfolding invasion. The four women were dressed in black, their grey haori coats and long hair billowing in the wind. The lone man also wore black, but with a long yellow scarf. Their bodies were lean and well-muscled, thrumming with a power not seen on Earth in many thousands of years.
A power that would, in a few moments, be unleashed once again.
"So annoying," grumbled one of the women. Her long hair was an elegant shade of purple, her face set in a lazy expression. "They just can't leave us alone."
"Stop complaining, Kazehana" groused the man, whose hair was a silver-grey mop. He regarded the landing troops with shrewd, narrow eyes. "Besides, you reek of sake."
"Hard to say who they are," commented the shortest of the women, who wore her red hair in a long braid. She tittered, adjusting her glasses as she took in the sight. "If I had to guess, I'd say it was a coalition."
"Strange," mused a grey-haired woman, with a face like a hunting bird. "We always argue, yet its times like these that make us a proper team."
"Pull yourselves together," ordered the fourth woman, stepping out in front of the others. Her hair was also purple, but in a lighter shade than that of her colleague. "Behind us, one hundred and three of our companions sleep defencelessly." She scanned her eyes over them, cold as ice yet bright with resolve. "You know the price of failure."
"Yes Miya," sighed Kazehana. "We know."
"Well then," spoke up the redhead. "I'll start."
She turned her face skyward, closing her eyes as she activated her mysterious power.
"What do you see?" asked the man. "Matsu?"
"Calm down Mutsu," quipped the grey-haired woman, smirking. "No need to be so impatient."
"I don't like wasting time, Karasuba," Mutsu retorted, his face grim. "She'd better not be surfing doujinshi websites again."
"Enemy units," Matsu spoke up, opening her eyes. "Twenty-eight tanks, various types. Fifteen infantry fighting vehicles, various types. Twelve combat helicopters, various types. Two landing platform docks. One multirole destroyer." She tittered again. "The most they've ever sent."
"Even so," Kazehana said, gazing up at the approaching helicopters. "They're hardly what you might call…enemies." She raised her hand to the sky.
"Hana Senpuu!" The wind coiled around her, expanding out into a roaring tornado. The wind caught the two foremost helicopters, spinning them around and around in an ever-decreasing spiral. With a crash of metal and glass the helicopters smashed together, flattening like crushed soda cans. But even as they fell to the ground Kazehana was choosing fresh targets; three more gunships rising from a shallow canyon nearby.
Karasuba watched with languid indifference as the three newcomers were hurled to the ground in turn. They were not her concern, and never could have been. The hovering gunships had a certain elegance, and they might have done some harm had they unleashed their more powerful weapons, but Kazehana would have to be utterly paralytic for such machines to catch her off-guard.
She smiled in satisfaction as she saw the tanks, blocky and sand-coloured, a few hundred metres away. They hadn't seen her yet, and that was good. The smaller guns were no threat, for her aura alone could stop their bullets. But the bigger guns each fired a tungsten-carbide dart as long as her forearm, enough to reduce her body to a fine mist.
Not that she had any intention of being hit by one.
Her smile widened as she saw Mutsu materialize in front of the tanks, his yellow scarf billowing in the breeze. She saw him kneel down, touching the scabbarded tip of his sword to the rock in front of him, and felt a thrill as he poured his power into it. The ground shuddered and cracked, flinging the tanks around like so many toys. Then the humans appeared, swarming from their tanks like rats fleeing their nests, wailing their terror at an enemy they did not understand.
Karasuba bared her teeth. She was a predator, and they had shown their backs.
She moved, her power bearing her through the air like an arrow from a bow. With effortless grace she aimed herself for one of the upturned tanks, over which one of the human soldiers was frantically scrambling. She landed next to him, and with a single smooth motion cut him in half. As the blood spurted she was already moving, jumping down behind another fleeing soldier. With one quick slash he was down, and Karasuba set her eyes on another. He was a few metres away, but made the tragic mistake of turning to see what horror was pursuing him. In an instant Karasuba was upon him, a single upper-cut slicing through his flak jacket and tearing him open.
But there was more to come. Karasuba saw them; four infantrymen clad in sandy fatigues and black armour, rifles at the ready. She could sense their fear, but there was pride too, and anger. They had seen comrades cut down like animals before them, and they must have known there could be no retreat. They would kill her, or they would die trying.
Karasuba let out a hiss of pleasure as she charged. Bullets whistled past, the wind of their passage brushing her cheek like a lover's kiss. She zig-zagged to throw off their aim, her aura deflecting the shots that came too close. She leapt, coming down in the middle of them. Only then did they cease firing, apparently out of surprise.
With a quick thrust, Karasuba downed the one in front of her. She turned as she drew back her blade, slashing another across the waist just under his armour. The third raised his rifle to fire, but Karasuba brought her sword up over her head, then down in an overhead diagonal, cutting him open from neck to hip. The last soldier managed to fire, his bullets tearing through her haori as she ducked. Karasuba jumped, vaulting through the air like an acrobat to land in front of him. With a horizontal slash she cut his rifle in half, then poured her power into the backswing, cutting through armour and flesh to end him.
From her vantage point atop a rock outcropping, Miya watched the slaughter. As Karasuba's last opponent fell, she turned her eyes out towards the sea, and the three silver-grey shapes bobbing on the distant waves.
Three ships. Only three.
She didn't know much about the world beyond the island, beyond what she had read in the books her beloved Takehito brought her, and in the internet articles Matsu had shown her. Out of all of them Matsu knew the most about humans, and their weapons.
Miya didn't know much, but she knew enough; enough to know that the humans had far greater armies, and far greater weapons, than anything that had appeared that morning. The force that had come to challenge them was larger and more powerful than what anything that had come before, but it had fallen within minutes.
"Why?" she asked silently, remembering the battles, and the dead. "Why do you come here to die? Why so few? Why so weak?"
She knew the answer. The answer was behind her, sleeping in the womb that had born them to this world. The foetuses in their tanks, the frozen embryos, unconscious and unknowing, waiting to breathe, to live.
They wanted the little birds.
Miya stared hard at the furthest warship, feeling her power rise. She laid a hand on her sword hilt, pouring her energy into the blade, focussing her being into a single point.
She drew. A particle-thin blade of deadly energy leapt from the blade, slicing out across the sea. Miya saw it pass through the ship, and for a moment she saw it split apart along a perfect, clean cut. Then something exploded, and the ship was consumed in a ball of fire.
Miya barely noticed, for she was already targeting the second ship. Another perfect draw, another killing blade, another ship bisected, before it too vanished in fire. Another quick slash, and the third ship was gone.
The sounds of battle began to fade, until all that remained was the crackle of the flames, and the occasional cry of dying men, cut short by Karasuba's blade. Miya took it all in, her eyes unblinking.
It was over.
It was beginning.
Mahora Academy, many years later
"Ah, Negi-kun!" Dean Konoemon Konoe looked up with a smile on his face as Negi Springfield strode into his office. "Thank you for coming so quickly."
"It's always a pleasure, Dean-san."
Negi Springfield, trainee mage and English teacher, came to a stop in front of Konoemon's enormous desk. He was looking well, the elderly headmaster thought, with satisfaction, and not a little relief. It had been only a few days since he had faced the demon Graf Hermann, a battle that had stretched his mind, body, and maybe even his soul to the limit.
"And you, Asuna-kun." The Dean turned his eyes to the boy's companion. "I hope this wasn't an inconvenience."
"It's fine, Dean-sensei." Asuna Kagurazaka seemed to be in good spirits too. Konoemon regarded them for a few moments, marvelling at such a funny pair. Negi was ten years old, studious, diligent, and self-contained. He had short red hair, tied in a short pony-tail at the nape of his neck, and red eyes that shone with youth and life. On his nose sat a pince-nez of all things, which combined with his green suit made him look like a librarian or a university professor, but for his height.
Asuna Kagurazaka could not have been more different, even if she were not female and several years his senior. Her hair was a fiery orange, arranged in a pair of long pigtails hanging to her waist; each tied with two bells on a red ribbon, her trademark. Her eyes were green and blue, and behind them Konoemon knew there lay a noble spirit. It was only unfortunate that she tended to express it through random violence and outbursts of volcanic fury.
And yet, something had happened. Something, it wasn't quite clear what, had brought the two of them together. To see the two of them together, one could almost think they were family.
"And I see you're there too Chamo-kun." Sure enough, there was the small white ermine sitting on Negi's shoulder. Of course he was not an ermine, not as such. Ermines as a rule could not talk, or walk on their hind legs; nor did they smoke or make a hobby of collecting young ladies' underthings. But that was neither here nor there.
"I've called the three of you here," he began, shuffling through the papers on his desk, "to ask a small favour of Negi-kun."
"I'm happy to be of help, Dean-sensei," Negi insisted brightly.
"I need the three of you to pay a short visit to Shin Tokyo." Konoemon finally found the dossier, and slid it across the desk to Negi. "There's been some strange goings-on there recently, and I'd like you to look into them."
Negi opened the dossier, which contained a set of photographs. Some were blurred, others grainy, all of them amateurish; but Negi could make out female figures in what appeared to be athletic or fighting poses. They all seemed to have very large…
"Wow!" Chamo-kun exclaimed, his eyes bulging at the sight. "Those are some bodacious battling babes!"
"So," Asuna drawled, leaning over his shoulder to peruse the pictures. "A bunch of top-heavy warrior women wreaking havoc in Shin Tokyo. Looks like bad hentai."
"Uh…yes." Konoemon suppressed a chuckle at the look on their faces. "It's been kept from public attention for the moment, but as you can see from some of those pictures these women have some unusual abilities."
"Are they mages, Dean-sensei?"
"Not as far as we know," the dean admitted. "The association has tried to identify them via scrying, amongst other things, but they're not like any mages we've ever encountered. We really need someone dependable on the ground to provide more detailed information."
"I'm flattered that you would have such confidence in me," Negi said gravely. "But shouldn't someone more senior handle this assignment?"
"That's the trouble," said a familiar voice behind them. "They tried and failed." Both children turned to see a tall man with spiky grey hair closing the door behind him, an easy smile on his face.
"Takahata-sensei!" Asuna spun on her heel, her face lighting up as she saw her favourite teacher. Konoemon chuckled inwardly at her reaction. Takamichi Takahata had been the father she never had, but her feelings seemed to go well beyond that.
"Failed, Takamichi?" Negi looked surprised.
"The association has been trying to figure out those unusual ladies for some time." Takamichi strolled across the office and stood next to the desk. "Unfortunately they seem to value their privacy. Of our agents who've actually managed to get close to them, none of have survived."
The office went very cold.
"So you'll be coming with us right?" Asuna bounced on her feet like the over-excited schoolgirl she was. "Takahata-sensei?"
"I'm afraid not." Takamichi gave her an indulgent smile. "I'm tied up with some other stuff right now."
"So then Negi-kun," Konoemon cut in as Asuna slumped in despair. "Would you be willing to accept this assignment starting tomorrow?"
"I'm happy to help in any way I can Dean-sensei."
"Excellent. Takamichi will handle your teaching duties in the meantime." Konoemon reached into his desk, pulled out an envelope, and pushed it across to Negi. "These are your travel plans and tickets. I've arranged accommodation for you at a guest house named Maison Izumo for one week, and more as needed. The landlady is entirely trustworthy in all matters."
"Very well, Dean-sensei." Negi opened the envelope and perused the contents. In addition to the plans and tickets there were two more photographs. One showed a house in the traditional Japanese style, which Negi assumed to be Maison Izumo. The other showed a young woman with long purple hair dressed in a kimono.
"She seems nice," Negi thought innocently.
"A word of warning Negi-kun," Takamichi spoke up. His countenance was uncharacteristically grim. "Your mission is to observe only. Do not engage them if you can at all avoid it, and if you spot any in black and carrying swords, run. You understand?"
"Of course, Takamichi."
"A week," Asuna groaned, lost in the depths of despair. "A week…Takahata-sensei..."
(Here it is, at last. I only hope this new version serves to correct the failures of the old.
To make one thing clear, this takes place not long after Negi fought Graf Hermann and before the festival arc. As such, while he's quite potent, he's not the god he's destined to become. I want to avoid the problems I had in the last version, with every other reviewer complaining that Negi wasn't as powerful as he should be.)