Wind was never this painful, never in his life. It was whipping against him, licking roughly at his skin, underneath and through his clothing. Before, it was comforting, something he would embrace when he was stressed and needed to take his mind off stuff. Now, the roaring breeze only meant his death, for he didn't have his usual staff to help protect his fall. A field of green was approaching fast and his wounded limbs where too sore to respond fast enough. With some luck, he would die instantly from the impact.
Sadly for little Negi Springfield, however, he did not.
That's right! I'm working on a story! It's a one shot, and hopefully you'