The next few days passed in a blur of early mornings, sunlit training fields, and Touko Aozaki looking like she regretted every life choice that led her here.
The twins' first real assignment was simple—on paper.
Sun Magecraft Growth Control.
A small sprout.
A gentle pulse of prana.
Balance the heat, balance the light, and it should grow just enough.
Not too big.
Not too small.
Just controlled.
Naturally, it was a disaster.
Gudako, vibrating with boundless enthusiasm and zero restraint, grabbed her seedling like she was about to bless it with divine power.
"Grow, little plant! GROW IN THE NAME OF FUJIMARU!!!"
A solar flare erupted from her hands.
FWOOOOOM.
The sprout instantly grew into a mini-tree—complete with branches, leaves, and a tiny apple trying its best to form.
Touko's eye twitched.
"…Gudako. I said a controlled amount of energy. Not a photosynthesis war crime."
Gudako saluted proudly.
"Yes, Sensei!"
That did not reassure her.
Meanwhile, Ritsuka sat before his own pot, brows furrowed, hands steady.
He exhaled.
Okay. Small amount. Precision. Control. Don't overshoot. Don't break the pot. Don't light it on fire.
A faint glow pulsed from his fingers.
The sprout grew.
…A little.
…And then stopped.
Exactly like a normal plant.
Touko crouched beside him, staring at it.
"…Ritsuka, this is not a science fair project. You are supposed to use magic."
"I am using magic."
"This looks like something that grew because you encouraged it emotionally."
Ritsuka quietly looked away.
'Okay, maybe I'm being too careful. I've seen enough plants turn into man-eating monsters in singularities…'
Touko sighed deeply, massaging her temples.
"One of you is going to accidentally recreate Eden. The other is trying to get a part-time job at a florist shop."
She stood up, adjusting her glasses dramatically.
"Again. And this time, both of you—controlled."
Gudako: "Controlled like a flamethrower?"
"No."
Ritsuka: "Controlled like Karna modulating his mana output to avoid destroying continents?"
"…Closer."
Gudako raised her hand.
"But Sensei… Karna never did that."
Touko froze.
Ritsuka froze.
Then very slowly, Touko turned toward him.
"…Ritsuka. Why does your sister know that?"
Ritsuka smiled nervously.
'OH NO—SHE NOTICED.'
Touko sat down in the grass, exhaling the kind of soul-deep sigh reserved for people who have witnessed things no mortal was ever meant to see.
She tapped her notebook with a finger.
"Okay. Ignoring… whatever that Karna comment was."
Her eye twitched. "From what I've seen the last few days: Gudako, you're overloading the plant with mana. And Ritsuka, you're treating magic like you're defusing a bomb."
Ritsuka coughed.
Gudako looked proud.
Touko rubbed her forehead.
"So here's what we're going to do: why don't you tell each other exactly what you're doing?"
The twins looked at each other.
Gudako went first—loudly.
"I IMAGINE THE SUN EXPLODING AND THEN I GIVE THE PLANT A LITTLE BIT OF THAT!"
Touko's soul briefly left her body.
Ritsuka stared at her like she was a natural disaster.
"…That explains everything," he whispered.
Touko turned to him.
"And you, Ritsuka?"
He straightened, trying to look like a normal five-year-old doing totally normal magic.
"I picture the plant growing peacefully under a calm spring day, warmed by gentle sunlight," he said.
Gudako blinked.
"How gentle?"
Ritsuka: "…Very gentle."
Touko stared at him.
"You're feeding it a guided meditation, not magecraft."
Ritsuka looked away.
Gudako gasped dramatically.
"BROTHER! YOU'RE NOT USING THE POWER OF THE SUN—YOU'RE USING THE POWER OF VIBES!"
Touko dropped her notebook.
"That's it. I am drinking when I get home."
She clasped her hands together and forced a smile.
"Okay. New rule. Gudako, imagine a small fire—not a supernova. Ritsuka, imagine sunlight—not a spa commercial."
The twins nodded.
Touko inhaled.
"Again."
And for the first time, the plants grew at a normal, healthy rate.
…Until Gudako sneezed and her plant became a two-meter sunflower.
"…I take it back," Touko said. "I need stronger alcohol."
Ritsuka and Gudako exchanged a look.
Gudako puffed out her cheeks. "Fine. I'll go first. I just… push the Sun energy hard. Like—" she clenched her fist, mimicking an explosion— "BOOM. No hesitation. No fear. Like ripping an engine to max throttle!"
Touko winced. "Yes. That is exactly the problem."
Ritsuka scratched his cheek. "I… uh… do the opposite. I slowly circulate it. Very slowly. Like watering a plant with a dropper. I'm worried I'll burn it if I push too much."
Gudako blinked.
"…Bro. You're treating Sun Magecraft like it's hot soup."
Ritsuka pointed at her plant-tree, now about the size of a toddler.
"At least mine didn't become Little Groot."
Gudako folded her arms. "It's called enthusiasm."
Touko pinched the bridge of her nose. "No. It's called recklessness. And Ritsuka's is called timidity. You two are polar opposites. Which means—"
She stood and clapped her hands once.
"—you will now switch methods."
Ritsuka froze. "Wait, what?"
Gudako grinned. "Heh. Finally, something fun."
Touko continued, merciless:
"Gudako, you will mimic Ritsuka's 'slow and steady' technique. No explosions. No bursts. No 'go big or go home.'
Ritsuka, you will mimic Gudako's fearless push. You will give that plant a stronger wave of Sun energy, and you will not hesitate."
Both siblings paled.
Touko looked at them with a teacher's smile that promised suffering.
"Begin."
Both siblings placed their hands on their tiny plants.
Gudako's face scrunched up in concentration. She was physically restraining herself from imagining a full-blown solar detonation.
No exploding suns… no exploding suns… think gentle… think calm…
So she pictured a long summer day instead.
A warm sunrise…
A lazy noon…
A slow, glowing sunset that cooled into night.
The Sun moving, not blasting.
Meanwhile, Ritsuka inhaled slowly, doing his best not to imagine a peaceful warm-spring day like he usually would.
No gentle breeze… no soft warmth… push, don't soothe…
So he focused on the Sun's role.
A star that lit the Earth.
A flame that burned bright enough to create life.
Warmth that touched the skin with presence, not passiveness.
A pulse of golden light radiated from Gudako's hands—soft but steady.
Her plant shivered… and only grew a few centimeters this time.
Touko's eyes widened. "Good. Controlled. You didn't create a small forest."
Gudako exhaled in relief. "My God… I feel like I just defused a bomb using meditation."
Then they looked at Ritsuka.
His plant glowed—bright.
Brighter.
BRIGHTER.
Gudako stepped back. "Bro—BRO—calm down—"
Ritsuka's eyes widened as the sunlight he was channeling surged, no longer slow or hesitant.
His plant shot upward—
POOMPH.
—not into a giant tree…
…but into a perfectly normal sunflower.
A sunflower so vibrant and golden it looked like it was painted by Amaterasu herself.
Touko blinked once.
"...I did not expect that."
Gudako tilted her head. "…Bro. You made the most anime sunflower I've ever seen."
Ritsuka just stared at it.
"…I think I overdid it."
Touko shook her head.
"No. For you, that was exactly right."
Then she smiled—actually smiled.
"Lesson one… success."
Later that day.
Touko was giving the report to Mr Fujimaru.
Mr Fujimaru read over the report as he looked at her. "So, basically my daughter is too burnt force when using her mage craft, and my son is too penetrating trauma when using his Mage Craft".
Touko froze mid-sip of tea.
There were many ways she expected this conversation to go.
That sentence was not one of them.
Mr. Fujimaru looked completely serious as he summarized the report again:
"So my daughter is too blunt force when using Magecraft…
And my son is… too penetrating trauma when using his Magecraft."
Touko slowly lowered her teacup.
"…Mr. Fujimaru," she said carefully, "those are medical descriptions of injuries, not magical terminology."
He nodded solemnly. "Yes. But they fit."
Touko pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Your daughter applies mana like she's trying to hammer the planet."
She pointed to one note. "Your son applies mana like he's performing delicate surgery with a laser scalpel."
Mr. Fujimaru nodded again. "Exactly. Blunt force and penetrating trauma."
Touko stared at him.
He stared back with complete dad-logic confidence.
From the doorway, Tomiko Fujimaru peeked in and whispered:
"…Honey… what have I told you about naming things after hospital injuries…?"
Mr. Fujimaru shrugged. "It works."
Touko sighed.
"Fine. For the sake of communication: yes.
Your daughter is 'blunt force trauma.'
Your son is 'penetrating trauma.'
Their training is… uniquely chaotic."
Mr. Fujimaru folded the report neatly.
"Good. That's all I needed to know."
Touko's eye twitched.
'These children make plants explode or turn into divine sunflowers… and somehow, their father is the most confusing thing in this house.'
Tomiko seeing Touko said her own idea. "So, basically Ritsuka is being to gentle when using his Mage craft and Gudako is being to forceful".
Touko's shoulders visibly relaxed.
Just a little.
She turned toward Tomiko like a drowning woman spotting land.
"Yes," Touko said, voice heavy with relief. "Exactly that. Thank you."
Tomiko smiled politely, hands folded. "I thought so. Ritsuka has always been careful with things. He apologizes to furniture when he bumps into it."
From outside—
"I do not—"
"Yes you do!" Gudako yelled immediately.
Touko nodded. "That checks out."
She flipped a page in her notes.
"Ritsuka treats mana like it's something alive that might get hurt if he pushes too hard. He stabilizes, regulates, and refines before he acts."
She paused, then added dryly:
"Which is impressive. And infuriating."
Tomiko blinked. "Infuriating?"
Touko leaned back in her chair. "Because Sun Magecraft wants confidence. It's not something you tiptoe around forever."
She turned the page again.
"Gudako, on the other hand—"
Outside, there was a loud CRACK and someone yelling:
"WHY IS IT ON FIRE AGAIN?!"
Touko didn't even look up.
"—treats the Sun like a personal flamethrower."
Tomiko winced. "Ah… yes. That also sounds like her."
Touko sighed, rubbing her temple.
"They're both talented. Absurdly so.
But if I don't balance them properly, one will accidentally create a divine orchard, and the other will ignite the backyard and claim it was 'training.'"
From outside, Gudako shouted:
"IT WAS TRAINING!"
Ritsuka's much smaller voice followed:
"…I'm sorry about the grass."
Touko closed her notebook.
"See?" she said flatly. "This. This is my life now."
Tomiko smiled apologetically.
"…Would some tea help?"
Touko looked at her.
"…Yes," she said instantly. "Yes it would."
And for the first time since arriving, Touko Aozaki accepted a cup of tea without questioning her life choices.
Which, frankly, was a miracle.
Mr Fujimaru started to think. "Is there a way, we can make understand this difference between them?".
Touko took a slow sip of the tea, eyes half-lidded as she considered the question properly this time.
"Is there a way?" she echoed. "Yes. Several."
She set the cup down with a soft clink.
"But the real question," she continued, "is which way won't blow up your house, scar the kids psychologically, or attract the Clock Tower's attention."
Mr. Fujimaru blinked. "…That bad?"
Touko gave him a flat look.
"You have Sun Magecraft descendants of Karna in your living room. This is me being optimistic."
Tomiko tried to laugh. It came out nervous.
Touko leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.
"Magic Orbs," she began, ticking a finger. "Good for Gudako. They respond to raw output. She'll learn restraint when she sees how easily she overloads them and gets backlash."
Outside, there was a muffled thump and Gudako yelling, "I DIDN'T TOUCH IT—"
Touko continued without pause.
"Crystal Arts," she raised a second finger, "are better for Ritsuka. Crystals punish hesitation. If he underfeeds them, they crack, fade, or fail. He'll learn that being too gentle is also wrong."
Mr. Fujimaru nodded slowly. "Balance through feedback."
"Exactly," Touko said. "Pain is a great teacher. Controlled pain, preferably."
Tomiko stiffened. "Controlled?"
Touko waved a hand. "Minor burns. Light mana backlash. Nothing permanent. Probably."
Tomiko stared at her.
Touko sighed. "Fine. Definitely nothing permanent."
She lifted a third finger.
"And Spell Books," she said, voice turning more serious. "That's for later. When they're old enough to understand theory. Books force discipline, structure, and imagination."
Her eyes flicked toward the window—toward where Ritsuka and Gudako were.
"Especially imagination," Touko added. "Sun Magecraft is half belief. How you see the Sun matters."
Mr. Fujimaru frowned slightly. "They already imagine it differently."
Touko smirked.
"Good," she said. "Then here's the trick."
She leaned back in her chair.
"I'll make them teach each other."
Tomiko blinked. "Teach… each other?"
"Yes," Touko replied calmly. "Ritsuka explains how he feels the Sun—warm, gentle, constant. Gudako explains how she feels it—bright, powerful, unstoppable."
She smiled, sharp and knowing.
"When they start arguing, they'll start understanding."
From outside:
"THE SUN IS NOT A NUKE!"
"YES IT IS, JUST A NICE ONE!"
Touko closed her eyes, deeply satisfied.
"…See?" she said. "It's already working."
Touko closed her eyes, listening to the twins argue outside.
'…Yeah,' she muttered, lifting her teacup again. 'This family is going to be a problem.'
To be continued
Hope people like this ch and give me power stones and enjoy