A/N: I do not own "Negima" but I enjoy the stories. While Phillip Markham Jr is my character, the situations and other characters presented are from an unpublished novel "Exile to Earth."

Kansai Main Temple

Eishun Konoe stood outside, looking at the evening sky, the lit cigarette all but forgotten in his right hand. Tonight, he felt the first stirrings of a coming storm that had nothing to do with the weather.

"How did we let this happen," he asked himself again. Other questions rose unbidden, but he had no answers for them either.

His rumination was broken by the sounds of footsteps. He turned and saw the young woman in temple robes hesitate. He beckoned her forward. She came closer and bowed to him.

"Kanoe-sama, you wished to be notified?"

"Yes Yuki-san," he replied with no hint of the turmoil he felt. "Has he left then?"

"Yes," Yuki smiled as she spoke. "His plane departed San Francisco on time."

Eishun dropped the cigarette onto the paving stone and crushed it beneath his foot. He looked again at the temple maiden.

"And have you seen anything further?"

The smile dropped from Yuki's face. "No Kanoe-sama. All the vision reveals is that the man who is not a man, yet is no less a man must stand with us."

Her eyes had a far-away look as she continued. "Or we lose the coming battle and Mahora falls."

Eishun stared hard at the woman. He spoke with a calm he scarcely felt. "And what is he going to do to help?"

Yuki hesitated as if searching for something. "That I cannot see," she finally answered.

"Very well Yuki-san. Let's get inside. It seems to be getting colder," Eishun observed. "Besides, I need to inform the Headmaster."

Mahora Academy

The Headmaster stared down at the Go board in front of him. "Hm, hm" he said.

"She's done it again," he thought to himself. He looked up at his opponent. Evangeline stared back with her lips raised in a slight smirk. Although she appeared to be only 10 years old, she was in fact born more than 500 years ago.

"Well old man?" her smirk grew broader. "I'm waiting on you."

The Headmaster studied the board again. "I'm boxed in," he thought. "I can't move without her attacking."

"Your head isn't in our game tonight" she jibed.

"I can only minimize the damage she can do and wait for opening later," again he thought to himself. "Not unlike the situation we will all be in soon."

He reached for one of the game pieces when the phone rang. Thankful for the reprieve, he picked it up. "Hello."

"Yes, this is he."

"Hm, I see. Thank you for the information. We will be ready."

As he set down the receiver, he turned to his companion. "Well have to end our game here Evangeline-san. We must prepare for our new arrival."

The disappointment showed on the girl's face. "So who are sending to meet him?"

"I think it best if Negi-san meets him" the Headmaster replied.

"Huh, Negi?" Evangeline seemed shocked for the moment, but she soon schooled her face into a semblance of calm. "Well, you know best."

She looked back down at the game board. "You know how lucky you are old man?"

"Yes," was his only reply. But in his thoughts he continued "And I hope my luck holds up long enough."

Northwest Flight 1092

The jet left San Francisco several hours ago and was cruising over the Pacific Ocean at 37,000 feet. The man in seat 25A tried to sleep but continued to toss and turn.

Phillip Markham Jr. had never learned the secret of finding a comfortable position in an airplane seat. He dozed fitfully and even then his rest was interrupted by past memories that invaded his dreams.

Memories like reading the letter from his mother while he was in the Philippines. "Dear Phillip," it started. "Your father has had to leave on urgent business. He doesn't know how long he will be away or even if he will ever be able to return." How natural she had made it seem, as if he had left for a business trip. Instead, Phillip Markham Sr. had dropped of the face of the earth 25 years ago, abandoning his family. Of course his wife never saw it that way.

Sometimes the memories were of the horrors he had seen in Kosovo. Phillip shifted in his seat and moaned softly as he relived the scenes of mass graves and burned out villages.

Then he dreamed of his mother's funeral. After her husband disappeared, Betty Markham returned to her home town in New Mexico. She had devoted herself to charity work around the state. Phillip didn't realize how well known she was until more than 300 people showed up for the service. A member of the governor's staff was there as well as a contingent from the Mariposa Reservation. This wasn't too much of a surprise since their chief was Betty's step-son.

Blazed Eagle was the son of Phillip Markham Sr. and princess Little Dove. Little Dove had died in labor and her son was raised by her family. He had become chief thirty years later and had gained some national attention as one of the new generation of Native American leaders. Phillip had known about his half-brother, but had never had much contact with him.

After all of the well-wishers had spoken to him, Blazed Eagle came over.

"Phillip," the chief started. "I grieve for your loss. Your mother will be missed by all."

"Thank you," Phillip replied. "And thanks for making all of the arrangements while I was still in Okinawa."

"She was a great help to my people and to me personally. It was the least I could do to honor her memory."

Blazed Eagle looked at his half-brother. "What are plans now? Are you returning to Japan?"

"No" Phillip said. "I'm going to settle her estate. At the end of the month I'll go up to Clovis and make my retirement from the Air Force official. After that, I'm not sure."

Phillip thought for a moment and began again "I spent a good many years in the Air Force as an instructor. Perhaps I'll get my credential and be a teacher."

Blazed Eagle looked at the younger man and asked "Have you considered teaching at a reservation school?"

Phillip looked confused, so Blazed Eagle continued. "Our high school is small and under staffed. We could always use teachers. The pay is low but the rewards are high."

It took only a minute for Phillip to respond. "Where do I apply?"

Betty's estate consisted of her home and a key to a safety deposit box in a Clovis bank. After separating from the military, Phillip found the bank. Sitting in a private room, he opened the box and found his father's journal.

"Dear Phillip," it read. "Since you are reading this, it's likely that I haven't been able to return. Please know that I love you and your mother very much and that I would never have left you of my own choice."

"Yeah, right." thought Phillip.

"I want to explain to you who and what I am, but I know it will sound like one of those Science Fiction stories you always read. The only proof I can offer you is to follow the directions on the map in the back and dig up a time capsule I buried many years before you were born."

As he finished reading the journal, all Phillip could think was "rubbish." But he remembered following the map and digging up the capsule. He opened it to find . . .

"Moon rocks!" Phillip shouted. "Are you sure?"

"Not so loud Phil," the man in the white lab coat replied. James McDowell was Phillip's closest friend and the head of the university's forensics department. He looked to see if anyone had overheard them. "My contacts at NASA confirmed that the rocks are from the lunar surface."

He continued, "And since all of the rocks we brought back are accounted for, they were wondering where these came from."

Phillip looked panicked. "What did you tell them?"

"I told them they were from the estate of a wealthy man who had business dealings in Moscow. I hope they'll think they were smuggled out of the Soviet Union."

"I'm sorry Jim," Phillip said. "I didn't realize it would put you on the spot like that. What about the other stuff?"

Dr. McDowell took a deep breath. "The spine was compressed and showed injuries consistent with a plane crash. The skull has a titanium plate of the size and position recorded by the Army doctor."

Phillip remained silent as his friend continued. "We place the date of death around 1944 or 45. As far as modern science can determine, these are the remains of Phillip Markham Sr. I'm sorry Phil."

James was concerned about his friend. By all appearances, the man they had both known was a fraud. "Phil, what do we do now?"

"Do?" Phillip said. "We do nothing. Pursuing this any further will just raise questions neither of us can answer."

James spoke slowly, trying to pick his words carefully. "Phil, we've been friends since the third grade. I've known you father just as long. Was he a spy?"

Phillip turned to window and stared outside. "No Jim. He wasn't a spy. Just an exile."

Again he was back in Kosovo, pinned down by sniper fire. He had crawled up as close as he could to the enemy position but was stalled. He couldn't do anything without exposing himself to fire. Suddenly, he heard the sound of automatic fire on his left.

"Damn! I'm caught" he thought as he turned towards the new threat.

What he saw has a young girl in a doorway with an AK 47 rifle. She was firing not at him but at the sniper position. Phillip pulled the pin on a grenade and tossed it thru the window ahead.

He was seated in his late mother's house. He stared down at a 60 year old photograph of her from when she was in Washington D.C. A tear rolled down his cheek.

"I don't know what to think anymore," he said aloud. "I really wish you were here to talk to Mom."

He was startled by a voice in front of him. "Phillip," it said.

He looked up to see the woman from the photograph standing in front of him.

"Mom?" was all he could manage to say.

"I'm always here for you son," she replied.

With a start, Phillip opened his eyes.

"We are beginning our descent into Tokyo," the stewardess announced. "The captain has turned on the fasten seatbelt and no smoking signs."

As the stewardess continued to read off the landing instructions, Phillip settled back into his seat.

"Thank God," he thought to himself "that I'm getting away from all that craziness."