The next few days, Ritsuka and Gudako practiced the breathing techniques every morning.
They sat beneath the same old tree, legs crossed, eyes closed. The air was calm. Too calm.
Ritsuka inhaled slowly, then exhaled. He felt it immediately.
'This really is different.'
It wasn't like Sun Magecraft. There was no pulling, no forcing. The energy didn't rush in—it answered.
Nearby, Tomiko watched closely, arms folded, ready to step in if anything went wrong. She flipped through the old book again, her brow furrowing.
"Sun… Moon… Fire… Air… Earth… Water… Lightning."
She turned another page. "These were used by Onmyoji in ancient Japan to handle hostile magical beings and yokai."
Touko paused mid-note and looked up. "I thought Onmyoji relied on magecraft to deal with that stuff."
Tomiko shook her head. "Apparently not."
Gudako suddenly sucked in a sharp breath.
The ground beneath her cracked.
Just a little—but enough.
Touko nearly choked on her tea. "—That's not normal breathing."
Gudako opened one eye. "Oops?"
Ritsuka stayed still. Too still.
His breathing hadn't changed in speed—but the world around him had.
He could hear the leaves shift before the wind touched them.
Feel the heat of the sun without drawing from it.
Sense movement without looking.
'So this is what she did,' he thought. 'She didn't give me power… she gave the world a rule.'
Tomiko closed the book slowly. "…We may have a problem."
Touko glanced between the twins, then smiled thinly. "No. We have several."
Under the tree, Ritsuka exhaled again.
The air obeyed.
Gudako inhaled.
Then she inhaled again.
Deeper this time.
Ritsuka felt it before he saw it.
The air shifted—wrong. Not hot. Not heavy. Just… sharp.
'Oh no.'
Gudako's breathing changed.
In.
Out.
In—longer.
Out—cleaner.
The shadows under the tree stretched.
Touko froze mid-sip. "…Why is the light bending."
Tomiko took a step forward. "Gudako?"
Gudako opened her eyes.
They glowed faintly silver.
She blinked. "Huh?"
The world tilted.
For half a second, it looked like the tree was split into layers, as if someone had sliced reality sideways and stacked it badly.
Gudako sneezed.
A crescent-shaped slash carved clean through the air, skimmed the grass, and shaved the bark off the tree in a perfect arc.
Silence.
Leaves drifted down slowly.
Touko stared at the cut. Then at Gudako. Then back at the cut.
"…That was Moon Breathing."
Tomiko went pale. "She's seven."
Gudako looked at her hands. "Why did the air get sharp?"
Ritsuka covered his face. 'Yang, I swear to God.'
Touko snapped out of it and lunged forward. "Stop breathing like that! Normal breaths! NORMAL BREATHS!"
Gudako panicked. "I am breathing normal!"
Another inhale.
The shadows rippled.
Ritsuka grabbed her shoulders. "Gudako. Stop. Copy. Me."
He breathed.
Slow.
Steady.
Grounded.
She followed him.
The silver glow faded. The air settled. The world stopped trying to fold itself.
Gudako slumped. "That was weird."
Touko collapsed onto the porch steps. "We just watched a child activate a combat style meant to kill monsters older than history."
Ritsuka stared at the shaved tree trunk.
'So that's it,' he thought. 'Breathing styles aren't techniques anymore. They're instincts.'
Gudako suddenly perked up. "Hey! Can I do the Sun one too?"
"No."
Three voices answered at once.
She pouted.
Ritsuka sighed. 'At this rate, she's going to invent Moon Breathing homework.'
Somewhere very far away, in the Void—
Yang Guifei sneezed.
"…Weird."
Back in the world.
Touko took a deep breath. "We, will deal with what your daughter did later, so what is your plan for these kids?".
Tomiko looked at her as she spoke. "Masaru and I were thinking of taking our kids to my village in Indian, connect with nature and our ancestors in the temples".
Touko looked at her as she spoke. "I am getting dragged into this, even if I say no, aren't I?".
Tomiko just smiled at her.
Touko stared at that smile.
Not annoyed.
Not angry.
Just… tired in the very specific way of someone realizing fate had already filled out the paperwork.
"…I hate that smile," Touko muttered.
Tomiko clasped her hands behind her back, perfectly calm. "You hate it because it works."
Touko clicked her tongue. "You're taking two kids who can accidentally carve the air with their lungs to a temple village tied to Sun Magecraft ancestors."
"Yes."
"In India."
"Yes."
"With old gods, ley lines, and probably at least one sealed 'do not open' door."
Tomiko tilted her head. "You forgot the part where it's beautiful."
Touko rubbed her face. "I'm going to die. Not dramatically. Bureaucratically."
From the yard—
Gudako swung a stick.
Nothing happened.
She frowned, inhaled—
"DON'T," Touko barked instantly.
Gudako froze. "I wasn't gonna!"
Ritsuka lowered the stick gently from her hands. "Maybe… no breathing practice until we're supervised."
Touko stared at him.
That calm tone.
That awareness.
'He's seven,' she reminded herself. 'That's illegal.'
Tomiko watched the exchange, eyes soft. "That's exactly why we're going."
Touko looked at her. "Explain."
"Sun Magecraft isn't just power," Tomiko said. "It's balance. Rhythm. Living with the world, not cutting through it."
Touko glanced at the tree Gudako had almost murdered earlier. "…Your daughter literally cut the air."
"And my son stopped her without panicking," Tomiko replied. "They need grounding. Not restriction."
Touko exhaled slowly.
"…You're asking me to make sure they don't awaken something ancient, aren't you."
Tomiko smiled wider. "I'm asking you to make sure they survive it."
Touko laughed once, sharp and humorless. "Fantastic. A spiritual field trip with two prodigies and one exhausted magus."
Ritsuka looked over. "Are we traveling?"
Gudako's eyes lit up. "Traveling?!"
Tomiko nodded. "To where our family began."
Gudako pumped her fist. "YES!"
Ritsuka smiled—but inside, his thoughts were already racing.
'Temples. Ley lines. Sun-aligned structures.'
'Breathing styles spreading through time.'
'Ancestors who definitely left records.'
Something was lining up.
Touko noticed his look.
"…You're planning something," she said flatly.
Ritsuka blinked. "No?"
She pointed at him. "That face is illegal on a child."
He sighed internally. 'I really need to work on my poker face.'
Tomiko clapped her hands once. "Then it's settled. We leave in three days."
Touko groaned. "I need coffee. And a will."
Somewhere far away, beyond time—
Yang Guifei beamed.
"Ooooh," she said happily. "This is going to be fun."
Void Shiki did not look amused.
Oei looked at Abigail. "So, like, wanna make a bet".
Abigail looked at her. "I bet two Galaxy on Gudako discovering an ancient sealed weapon".
Oei tilted her head, considering it way too seriously. "Two galaxies is steep. That's, like… early Lostbelt numbers."
Abigail hugged her teddy bear tighter, eyes calm, voice innocent. "Gudako has talent. And curiosity. And absolutely no fear."
Yang Guifei leaned over them, grinning. "She also has zero self-preservation. I'll raise it."
Void Shiki didn't even look up from her tea. "No betting with galaxies. You never pay those back."
Oei pouted. "You always ruin the fun."
Abigail blinked once. "Then I'll change the terms."
Everyone paused.
Abigail continued, softly, "If Gudako finds an ancient sealed weapon, I win. If Ritsuka stops her before she activates it, Oei wins."
Oei's eyes lit up. "Oh, that's evil. I'm in."
Yang laughed. "You're assuming he can stop her."
Void Shiki finally sighed. "…You're all terrible influences."
Back in the human world—
Gudako sneezed. "Huh? I feel like someone just underestimated me."
Ritsuka glanced at her. 'No… they definitely didn't.'
Touko, who had just stepped outside with coffee, paused mid-sip. "…Why do I suddenly feel like a curse just got written in my name?"
Tomiko smiled serenely. "Must be the ancestors."
Touko groaned. "I knew it. I'm going to end up sealing something with duct tape."
Gudako clenched her fist. "Adventure!"
Ritsuka stared at the horizon, uneasy and excited all at once.
'If there's an ancient weapon…'
'Please let it come with instructions.'
Far away in the Void, Abigail smiled faintly.
"Let the game begin."
Meanwhile, Masaru was in his room, looking at his computer.
He took a deep breath and had dread written all over his face. "I am going to meet my in-laws again.... Wonderful".
If anyone heard they would notice that the wonderful sounded wrong almost scared.
Masaru leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. The screen in front of him showed travel plans, temple locations, and far too many warning notes he'd typed and deleted.
"…Wonderful," he repeated, flatter this time.
He stared at the ceiling. 'Why is it every time we visit them, reality needs repairs afterward?'
A knock came from the door.
"Masaru?" Tomiko's voice—calm, gentle, absolutely dangerous in the way only a loving wife could be. "You're not backing out again, are you?"
He straightened instantly. "Of course not. Just… mentally preparing."
She opened the door and leaned against the frame, arms crossed, amused. "You look like you're about to face a Beasts-class threat."
Masaru gave a weak laugh. "Last time your uncle asked me if the Sun still 'answered' our bloodline."
Tomiko smiled wider. "That means he likes you."
Masaru visibly paled. "He said that right before the temple moved."
She walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Relax. This time it's just a visit. No trials. No ancestral tests. No ancient spirits judging your worth."
A beat.
"…Probably."
Masaru sighed, defeated. "I married into the wrong family."
Tomiko kissed his forehead. "You married into the right one."
Outside, somewhere very far away, something old and patient shifted—just a little—as if it had heard its name.
Masaru shivered.
"…I really should update Touko's insurance."
In a different part of the house.
Ritsuka sat cross-legged on the floor, notebooks spread around him in a careful half-circle. Every page was packed—diagrams of the sun's path, notes on breath timing, small sketches of stance transitions. It wasn't messy, just… dense. Like he was afraid forgetting even one detail would cost him something later.
Gudako leaned over his shoulder, squinting at the pages. "What are you doing?"
He paused his pencil, then answered without looking up. "Organising."
She blinked. "Organising what? Those look like spell formulas fought with a homework notebook."
Ritsuka finally looked at her. "Breathing patterns. Sun Mage Craft flow. Body reinforcement. I'm trying to line them up so they don't trip over each other."
Gudako frowned harder, then pointed at a rough sketch of a stick figure surrounded by arrows. "Why does that one have flames coming out of its lungs?"
"That's you," he said calmly.
"…Rude."
He flipped the page. "You push everything forward at once. Power first, control later. It works, but you burn through stamina."
Gudako crossed her arms. "And you don't push enough. You treat magic like it'll break if you glare at it."
Ritsuka didn't deny it. He just shrugged. "It usually does."
She stared at him for a second, then plopped down beside him. "So what's the plan, Professor?"
He tapped the notebook. "If breathing styles really work the way the book says… then they're not magic. They're rhythm. Timing. The body is doing half the work so the mage craft doesn't have to."
Gudako's eyes drifted back to the drawings. "…That sounds kinda cool."
He allowed himself a small smile. "It is."
She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "You're acting weird lately, you know that?"
Ritsuka's pencil stopped.
"Weird how?" he asked.
Gudako tilted her head. "Like you already know what works and what doesn't. Like you've messed up before and don't want to do it again."
For a split second, his reflection in the notebook window wasn't a child's.
Then it passed.
He closed the book. "Just thinking ahead."
Gudako studied him, then grinned. "Well, think ahead faster. Because when I master Moon Breathing, I'm naming my first move something super cool."
Ritsuka stood up. 'Please don't.'
Out loud, he said, "Just… warn me first."
From the porch, Touko sneezed.
Gudako looked at him, eyes narrowing with sudden interest. "So, like… you keep notes on everything?"
Ritsuka froze.
There it was.
That tiny click in his head—the same one he used to get in Chaldea when Da Vinci said something offhand and it accidentally solved three problems at once.
His eyes lit up.
"Actually," he said slowly, "that's a really good idea."
Gudako blinked. "Huh?"
He stood up a little straighter, already thinking ahead. "If I write things down properly—what works, what doesn't, how breathing feels at different times of day—I can track patterns."
Gudako tilted her head. "You already do that."
"Not like this," he said, tapping his notebook. "This is messy. Sensei used structured logs. Time, condition, output, result."
She stared at him. "…You sound like an old man."
He ignored that. "If Sun Mage Craft fluctuates with the sun, and breathing styles affect stamina, then there's overlap. If I don't record it, I'll miss it."
Gudako grinned. "Wow. So my brother's officially a nerd."
Ritsuka flipped to a clean page and wrote, neatly:
Daily Training Log – Day 1
Gudako leaned over again. "Are you gonna write about me too?"
"Yes."
"Hey!"
He added another line without looking up.
Subject: Gudako – Overexertion tendency. Results still impressive.
She smacked his arm. "You didn't have to make it sound like I'm a test subject!"
He finally smiled, small but genuine. "Relax. If I don't write it down, I'll forget. And I don't want to forget."
Gudako went quiet at that, just for a moment.
Then she snorted. "Fine. But if you're keeping notes, I'm naming all my moves. Write those down too."
Ritsuka paused, pencil hovering.
'This is dangerous.'
Out loud: "We'll… workshop the names."
Somewhere in the Void, Void Shiki felt a disturbance and sighed.
To be continued
Hope people like this ch and give me power stones and enjoy