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(Zenith Greyrat) - (Point of View)
There are moments that get etched into your memory, but not the way you'd expect. They're not perfect snapshots. They're fragments: the smell of damp earth, the pressure of tiny fingers on my arm, the sun burning the back of my neck because I'd been kneeling among the medicinal herbs for way too long.
It was the day before that tutor arrived. Or two days before. No, it was one day before, I'm sure, because that night Paul and I... well. The important details stick. The rest just blurs.
Daiki approached without making a sound. Always so quiet. He nearly startled me when he spoke.
"Mom." A pause. Then a longer pause. "I want to learn magic."
My hands froze in the dirt, not knowing what to do with themselves. Had I heard him right? My son, who barely spoke to me, who looked at me like I was some puzzle he couldn't quite solve—was he asking me this?
"Healing magic?" I asked, and my voice came out higher than normal.
He nodded. Said something about wanting to help, about not depending only on the sword. Said something else, something about learning from me too, not just from his father, and that's when I broke.
I hugged him. Too hard, probably. He went stiff for a second before barely relaxing. He hugged me back. I cried against his shoulder and he asked if I was crying, in that analytical tone he used for everything, like he was taking mental notes.
"These are good tears," I told him. I felt stupid for clarifying, but seeing his serious face relax made me smile.
But the truth, the truth I didn't tell him, is that I was scared too. Scared this was temporary. That tomorrow he'd go back to being that distant child who looked at me like I didn't understand him. Because I didn't understand him. I'd never understood him.
We stayed in the garden. I took a broken leaf—I don't remember from what plant, maybe basil, or mint—and showed him the basic spell. I expected him to fail. No, that sounds terrible. But part of me, a small, selfish part, wanted him to need more time, more attempts, more afternoons with me in the garden.
The leaf regenerated halfway on the first try.
I hugged him again. This time he didn't go stiff.
"I used too much mana," he said against my shoulder. "I can control it better."
He wasn't disappointed. He was... analyzing. Like he'd just solved the first variable in a complex equation. And I realized, with that strange clarity that only comes in hindsight, that my son didn't learn like other children. He wasn't like Rudeus, who did magic like breathing. Daiki took apart every spell in his head, piece by piece, trying to understand the why.
We practiced. Two hours? Three? The sun moved, I remember that. My left foot fell asleep at some point and I had to shift it without being obvious. Daiki didn't stop. Question after question. "Why does the mana flow like this?" "What happens if I modify the intent?" I told him he didn't need to understand everything, that the spell was a guide, but I could see in his eyes that wasn't enough for him.
Rudeus came out after his nap. He stood in the doorway—I can still see him, with his hair all messy and sleepy eyes—watching us.
We were sitting in the garden, bathed in that golden late-afternoon light that makes everything seem unreal. I was pointing at plants and Daiki...
Daiki was smiling.
It was small. But it was there.
And I thought: "This. This is what I needed to see."
That night, in bed, I couldn't sleep. Paul asked me what was wrong and I told him everything at once, out of order. I told him Daiki wanted to learn healing magic. Paul sat up in bed.
"Daiki? Our Daiki?"
"Our Daiki," I confirmed.
I told him about the progress. I explained that it had taken me weeks under the best teachers in Millis to achieve what he'd done in one afternoon. Paul went quiet, processing.
"It's like he's carrying something we can't see," I said finally. "Like he's afraid to be happy."
Paul held me. He said comforting things, things about protecting them, about being good parents. And I wanted to believe him. I needed to believe him.
Paul kissed me. Softly at first, then with more intensity. We didn't need words. We never needed them. The happiness, the relief, the love for our children... it all overflowed in the only way we knew how.
That's how we were. Any excuse worked. Good news, a hard day, a moment of peace. We didn't care. We had each other, and that night, after seeing our son smile in the garden, we gave ourselves to that happiness with the same intensity we'd protect our children with.
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(Daiki Greyrat) - (Point of View)
I lay awake in my bed.
The sounds from my parents' room had stopped a few minutes ago. This time they'd taken longer than usual. Long enough for Rudeus, who'd been restless at first, to finally surrender to sleep.
I ignored the subject. It wasn't relevant to my current thoughts.
I raised my hands in front of my face, studying them in the darkness. Today, these hands had channeled mana to heal. They'd touched the power of life. It was a power that felt fundamentally different from what we already knew.
My mind began processing the day's events, comparing them with our previous experience. We'd mastered offensive magic without incantations because the elements are fundamentally simple. Water is water. Fire is fire. Their properties are straightforward and we could replicate them based on a clear mental image.
But healing magic...
Mom hadn't talked about anatomy. She didn't mention cell types or tissue structures. She talked about "healing intent." She said: "The spell knows. Your job is just to guide it with good intention."
The answer was obvious.
The spell wasn't a biological instruction manual. It was a catalyst. A tool to focus an abstract concept—"heal"—into concrete action. In elemental magic, the image is the catalyst. We imagine a ball of water and the mana obeys.
The "image" of healing isn't a wound closing. That's the result. The image is the state before the injury. The image of "perfection."
[HYPOTHESIS FORMULATED]
[INCANTATIONLESS HEALING MAGIC DOESN'T REQUIRE ANATOMICAL KNOWLEDGE, BUT THE ABILITY TO PROJECT A MENTAL IMAGE OF THE HEALTHY" STATE AND ORDER THE MANA TO REPLICATE THAT STATE]
I got up silently and approached the small plant we had on the windowsill. Carefully, I plucked one of its leaves, tearing it in half. I placed it on my palm.
I closed my eyes. I didn't think about plant cells. I didn't think about chlorophyll or sap.
I thought about the leaf before I broke it. Perfect. Whole. Green and full of life. I held that image in my mind with absolute clarity, an image memorized with the precision of my gift.
Then, I gathered my mana. I didn't push it. I guided it. I gave it a single order, not with words, but with pure force of intention, using that perfect image as a blueprint.
Fix.
I opened my eyes.
An emerald light, soft and pulsing, bloomed from my palm, enveloping the two pieces of the leaf. There was no incantation. No words. Just the image and the command. The light glowed for a second, then faded.
In my hand, the leaf was whole. Perfect.
I stared at it, feeling a chill run through my body. Not from the cold of the night, but from the magnitude of what I'd just done.
It wasn't impossible. It didn't even require decades of study. It only required a different perspective. An understanding that, perhaps, most people never reached because they relied too heavily on the crutch of incantations.
My analytical mind hadn't been a barrier. It had been the key that allowed me to decipher the true mechanism in a single afternoon.
I went back to my bed, holding the healed leaf in my hand.
Protect. Heal. Fix.
Now, those weren't just words. They were skills I could start perfecting from today.
I closed my eyes, remembering the strange warmth I'd felt in my chest when Zenith hugged me.
"A beautiful heart," she'd said.
Maybe, if I worked hard enough, if I used this understanding not just to be strong, but to help... I could become someone who deserved those words.
With that thought, I finally allowed myself to rest. And for the first time in a long, long while, I slept without nightmares, with the knowledge that a new path, one I'd discovered myself, was opening before me.
The next day, the tutor arrived... and the surprise was huge.
-
----------------------------------------------------------------------------(Omniscient Narrator) - (Third Person)
"I'm Roxy. It's a pleasure to meet you all."
When one thinks of a tutor, they probably imagine someone with a certain age and experience under their belt. But she turned out to be quite a young girl.
"S-so you're, um... the tutor, right...?"
"Uh, y-you... you look rather..." Since their parents didn't quite know how to approach her, both brothers decided to be direct.
"You're pretty small." Rudeus and Daiki said in unison, completely unplanned.
"You two are hardly in a position to say that..."
She fired back without hesitation. Had they struck a nerve? Roxy let out a sigh.
"Haa... So then, which students am I supposed to be teaching?"
She looked around with an expression of annoyance.
"Ah, these two right here."
Zenith presented both of them while holding their hands. Rudeus responded with an enthusiastic wink. Daiki simply inclined his head slightly, observing her with those expressionless eyes.
Roxy's eyes widened in surprise upon seeing Rudeus... and she sighed again. But when her gaze landed on Daiki, there was a pause. Something about those eyes unsettled her for a second.
"Haa... every now and then there are, you know? Those kinds of foolish parents who think their children have talent just because they developed a little faster..."
She muttered as if it were nothing.
‹ We can HEAR you, Roxy! › both brothers thought simultaneously.
"Is there a problem?" Zenith said with a smile, making Roxy nervous.
"No, though honestly I don't believe children that age can comprehend magical theory."
"Don't worry, our boys are incredibly smart!"
A comment from a mother blinded by maternal love, courtesy of Zenith.
Roxy sighed again, resigned.
"Haa... fine. I'll do what I can."
Paul intervened then, crossing his arms.
"By the way, Roxy. Rudeus will be your primary student. Daiki will train with me in swordsmanship during the mornings, so you'll only be able to give him magic lessons in the afternoons."
Roxy blinked, confused.
"Only one in the mornings and the other in the afternoons?"
"Daiki shows a natural interest in swords," Paul explained with barely contained pride. "He'll primarily be a swordsman. But Zenith insists he also learn some magic."
Roxy looked at the two children before her. Rudeus seemed excited, almost bouncing in place. Daiki remained still, watching her with an intensity that didn't match a three-year-old child.
"I see..." Roxy murmured. "This will be... interesting."
Apparently, she'd come to the conclusion that arguing would be pointless.
And so, in the mornings Rudeus would have magic classes with Roxy while Daiki trained swordsmanship with Paul. In the afternoons, they would switch: Rudeus would train with Paul and Daiki would receive his magic lessons.
"Right, first this magic manual... no, before that, let's test how much magic you can use, Rudy."
In the first class, Roxy took Rudeus to the garden. Daiki watched them from his bedroom window, a book in his hands as camouflage.
[ANALYSIS IN PROGRESS...]
"First, an example. May the great blessing of water heed your call, may the clear current of a stream surge forth here and now... Water Ball!"
The water bullet appeared in her palm. The size of a basketball. It launched at high speed toward one of the garden trees...
Crack!
It split the trunk like it was nothing and drenched the entire fence.
From the window, Daiki observed with interest.
"Yes. That tree is one mother has been carefully tending to, so I think she's going to be angry."
"Huh? Really?"
"I have not the slightest doubt."
Daiki smiled faintly from his position.
‹ Oh, brother. ›
The scene unfolded as Rudeus had predicted. Roxy panicked, used healing magic, and Rudeus praised her effusively. From the window, Daiki watched the interaction with a mixture of amusement and analysis.
‹ He's managing her. Sincere but calculated flattery. Well played, brother. ›
"Alright, Rudy, you try."
Rudeus deliberately skipped the incantation, launching a water ball slightly smaller and slower than Roxy's.
‹ Holding back. Smart. ›
The tree fell with a crack-crack-crack.
"You skipped the incantation?"
"Yes."
"Do you always skip the incantation?"
"Always... skip it."
From the window, Daiki saw Roxy's expression change from surprise to fascination. He knew that look. It was the same one people had given him in his previous life when he demonstrated "impossible" abilities.
"...This boy is definitely worth training."
And then came the scream.
"Ahhhh!"
Zenith. The broken tree.
Daiki closed his book and descended the stairs calmly. He arrived just in time to see Roxy receiving a scolding, with Rudeus looking guilty from the side.
"Miss Roxy! I ask that you not use our trees as test subjects!"
"Huh? B-but that was Rudeus who did it...!"
"Even if it was Rudy, you were the one who made him cast the spell!"
Roxy mentally collapsed, defeated.
Zenith repaired the tree with healing magic and went back inside the house, but not before noticing Daiki standing nearby.
"Daiki? What are you doing here, sweetheart?"
"Just observing," he responded in his neutral tone. "I wanted to see how Master Roxy teaches. To understand her methods before my own lesson."
Zenith smiled with that warmth that always made him feel strange inside, stroking his black hair.
"Your turn will be later, after lunch. For now, let Rudy finish his lesson. And tomorrow you'll start sword training with your father... If you get hurt, just yell, okay? Your mother will heal you immediately."
Daiki was about to mention that he could heal himself now, that he'd managed healing magic without incantation the previous night. But he stopped upon seeing his mother's expression. That protective gleam in her eyes. That genuine and visceral desire to care for him, to be needed.
‹ I can't take that away from her... ›
"Yes, Mom..." Daiki's voice sounded odd, with that nervousness that still appeared automatically when he received direct displays of maternal affection.
He didn't object. He just nodded.
Zenith gave him a kiss on the forehead before leaving, leaving him standing there with slightly flushed cheeks.
After lunch—a lively meal where Paul wouldn't stop asking enthusiastic questions about tomorrow's first lesson—it was Daiki's turn.
Roxy was still visibly affected by the morning's incident. She had sat on the garden ground, in the shade of that same tree that had been split twice, with a defeated expression. She looked like she was about to start writing spirals of despair in the dirt with her finger.
"Hello." Daiki's calm voice pulled her from her mental spiral.
Roxy slowly looked up. Daiki was standing in front of her.
"Daiki...?"
"The class. It's my turn now." He spoke calmly, almost expressionlessly. But there was something in those red eyes that made Roxy straighten up automatically.
"Ah, yes. You're absolutely right." She quickly got to her feet, dusting off her robe. "Well, then... I suppose we'll start the same as with your brother. First, let me see if you can—"
"I can." Daiki interrupted calmly.
He extended his small hand forward.
No incantation.
No visible concentration.
A water sphere appeared floating above his palm. Perfectly spherical. Completely stable, without a single tremor. The exact same size as the ones Roxy had demonstrated that morning. It shot toward the sky.
Roxy froze, eyes wide open.
"I... also skip incantations. Have been for months."
He extended his hand again, but this time it was different.
A soft emerald light emanated from his palm, pulsing with that almost living rhythm that characterized healing magic. The glow bathed his face in green tones, making him appear ethereal.
Healing magic. Beginner level, clearly, but functional.
And without any incantation.
Roxy's eyes went wide as saucers.
"Is that...? Healing magic? WITHOUT an incantation?"
"Yes. I learned it yesterday with Mom." Daiki let the light fade. "It's still basic. Beginner level according to standard classification. But it works."
"YESTERDAY?!" Roxy clutched her blue hair with both hands. "Wait, wait, wait a moment. Are you telling me you learned healing magic YESTERDAY and can already cast it without incantation TODAY?"
"Technically it was last night when I achieved casting without incantation." Daiki corrected. "Yesterday I only learned the basic incantation."
Roxy opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. No words came out.
"Since... since when can you do elemental magic without incantation?" she finally asked, her body on the verge of collapse.
"Since I learned by reading the book. Months ago."
"How long have you been practicing regularly?"
"Since then. Daily practice when no one's watching."
Roxy sat back down on the ground, but this time it wasn't from emotional defeat. It was from pure, uncontrollable shock.
"Two brothers." She murmured to herself, staring into space. "Two absolute prodigies. Both with incantation-less magic. One of them with incantation-less healing after just one day..." She looked up at Daiki. "What kind of family is this...?"
Daiki observed her with a neutral expression, slightly tilting his head.
"Sensei, are you alright? You look pale." Though she was already quite pale to begin with.
Roxy blinked several times, processing.
"'Sensei'?" she repeated slowly. "What does that mean?"
"A word my brother and I invented," Daiki explained with an excuse he'd just thought of. "It means 'teacher,' but with a deeper level of respect. For someone who teaches us something truly important, not just information but wisdom."
Something warm and completely unexpected pierced through Roxy's chest. That serious and analytical boy, who looked at her with eyes too old for his face, had just called her with a special term of respect.
Not "Master Roxy" as his mother had politely instructed, but something he and his brother had created specifically to show genuine respect toward those they considered worthy.
And she had been included in that category from the very first moment.
"I see..." she murmured, feeling a small smile form on her lips despite the shock. "I... I really like that. You can call me that."
"Understood, Sensei."
Roxy covered her face with both hands, taking several deep breaths to process everything. Then she lowered them and looked at Daiki with renewed determination.
"Fine. If both you and your brother can use incantation-less magic at this level, then my job here is completely different from what I anticipated." She stood up. "I'm not going to teach you the basics you already master. That would be insulting your intelligence and wasting valuable time. I'm going to teach you advanced control. Surgical precision."
"Understood. I appreciate the appropriate approach."
"But first..." Roxy looked at him with professional seriousness. "I need to know something important. Why do you want to learn magic if your father has already decided you'll be a swordsman?"
Daiki considered the question carefully. He couldn't tell her the complete truth about their past lives, about death, about the desire to never again be powerless. But he could give her something real.
"Because the sword has inherent limits," he responded calmly. "Magic also has them. But together..." He paused, choosing his words with precision. "Together they can cover each other's fundamental weaknesses. A swordsman who can't attack at range. A mage vulnerable in close combat."
Roxy blinked several times. That wasn't an answer she'd expect even from an advanced student at the University, much less from a three-year-old child.
"I see." She said slowly, completely reevaluating him. "You're... very different from your brother."
"We're twins." Daiki nodded. "But we're not identical in personality or approach."
"Clearly." Roxy sighed, but this time it was a sigh of acceptance. "Rudeus is enthusiastic and expressive. You're..." she searched for the right words "...methodical. Analytical. Quite well-mannered."
"My father says I think too much. He's probably right."
"No." Roxy shook her head. "For magic, thinking too much is exactly what you need. Theory requires deep analysis." A small smile appeared on her face. "I think you're going to be an excellent student, Daiki."
Something warm moved in Daiki's chest. Genuine recognition. Not for being "special" or "different," but for being exactly as he was.
"Thank you, Sensei."
"You're welcome." Roxy adjusted her robe.
That Night....
After Zenith tucked them in with maternal care, gave each of them a kiss on the forehead, and gently closed the door, Rudeus and Daiki remained awake.
"How did it go with Roxy?" Rudeus asked in Japanese.
"I showed her incantation-less magic immediately. She was surprised."
"Did you tell her you'd been practicing for months?"
"Yes. It seemed appropriate to establish context."
Rudeus let out a soft, amused laugh.
"Now she thinks we're both unprecedented prodigies."
"And aren't we technically?" Daiki asked with a subtle touch of irony that only appeared when talking to his brother. "You used to pass out with just three consecutive spells at first. Now you can cast over thirty in a row without tiring." He paused. "Though I must admit you've already far surpassed me in total mana capacity. Your reserves are considerably larger than mine."
In the darkness, Rudeus smiled with genuine pride at his older brother's words of recognition.
Silence settled between them for a moment, comfortable and familiar.
"Brother." Daiki finally said. "Roxy is genuinely a good teacher. She has real combat experience, practical applied knowledge, not just theory from books."
"I know." Rudeus nodded. "I'm going to learn so much from her. More than I could ever learn from books alone."
"I will too. Her methodical approach complements my learning style well."
"But..." Rudeus hesitated for an instant. "Be careful, brother. Don't reveal too much all at once. You already showed incantation-less magic on the first day. If you show progress too quickly or abilities too advanced..."
"Too late for that warning." Daiki sighed. "I showed her I learned healing magic... also without incantation. On the first day."
"WHAT?!" Rudeus sat up abruptly in his bed, turning to look toward where he knew his brother was. "I told you to be careful about revealing too much!"
"I got too excited... I wanted to demonstrate that I'd understood the fundamental concept."
"That's VERY suspicious!" Rudeus scolded him in a low voice. "Incantation-less healing magic after just one day! What were you thinking?!"
"In retrospect, I wasn't thinking cautiously enough."
Rudeus let out a long sigh, falling back onto his bed.
"It's done now. We can't go back. Just... try not to show any more 'miracles' for a while."
"Agreed. I'll be more careful."
A slightly uncomfortable silence settled between them.
"Brother..."
"Yes, Daiki?"
"Try to disguise your... observations better."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I saw how you looked when the wind lifted Roxy's robe."
"I-I... that was... It was an involuntary reflex!"
"I'm just warning you." Daiki maintained his neutral tone. "We have children's bodies. We must act like children to external observers. That kind of... interest is characteristic of someone much older."
A deeply uncomfortable silence.
"Daiki. Am I a good brother? Do I make you feel... alive? Like this life is worth living?"
The question took Daiki completely by surprise. He remained silent for several seconds, processing the raw vulnerability in his brother's voice.
"Of course you do." He responded without hesitation. "I'm still getting used to all this, it's true. Having a family, being loved, everything. But... it feels good. Really good. Having a family that cares again."
"I think exactly the same." Rudeus fixed his gaze on the ceiling. "I thought I'd lost everything forever. That my life had ended in that dark and pathetic room. But with you here, in this new life, I realize that although life takes away brutally, sometimes it also gives back. And it even gives back twice as much good as it took."
"If I'd met you in that life... Believe me, I would have done everything possible to break through that void barrier that consumed me. I would have wanted to help you. I wouldn't have given up on you."
"I know." Rudeus turned toward the wall. "But you arrived too late. Too late for that life. Big brother."
The bitter irony of those words hurt in a strange and deep way. Big brother. Only by a few minutes' difference at birth, but the title felt significant in ways neither of them could fully explain.
Daiki grabbed his pillow and threw it with calculated precision.
It hit him directly in the face.
Rudeus let out a choked laugh, wiping away tears he didn't want to show even in the darkness.
"Now go to sleep." Daiki retrieved his pillow and arranged it carefully. "Tomorrow I have to officially start training with the sword with our father. I've been practicing in secret, as you know. I'm sure he'll react similarly to how Roxy reacted today when she found out about us."
"That, or he'll throw a big celebratory party in honor of his swordsman heir." Rudeus turned back over. "You took a burden I never wanted to carry. I'll always be grateful to you for that."
"I know." Daiki smiled. "That's what big brothers are for, isn't it? Carrying the heavy expectations. Even if it's only by a few minutes' difference."
"The best minutes of my life. Those minutes when I was born second."
"Good night, little brother."
"Good night, big brother."