Two Prodigies, Two Babies

I should have been more focused on Hinata.

On his sharp, calculating gaze.

But something else caught my attention.

The fledgling.

He was babbling.

But not in the same way I had heard other babies do.

His sounds had structure.

A rhythm.

Patterns.

And somehow—

I understood him.

Not fully.

Not completely.

But in pieces.

Like catching fragments of a conversation just out of reach.

"—hungry. Annoyed. Cold. Want down."

The words weren't spoken.

They were just there.

I felt my tiny fingers clench slightly.

Was it just me?

Or was this something else?

The fledgling babbled again, tugging at Hinata's collar.

I understood another piece.

"…Bored."

This wasn't normal.

It wasn't supposed to be normal.

And yet, for some reason—

I wasn't surprised.

The air dropped.

A heavy, crushing presence filled the room.

It was like standing at the edge of a cliff, knowing something terrible lurked below.

But it wasn't real.

It was a test.

Hinata's bloodlust rolled toward my mother like a silent wave—unseen but undeniable.

She didn't flinch.

Didn't react.

Didn't even acknowledge it.

But I felt it.

It was cold.

It was wrong.

And something inside me—

Snapped.

Before I even realized what was happening—

My tail formed.

Not the small, subtle flicker from before.

A fully manifested, solid, weighty tail, coiled and ready to strike.

The second the pressure of his bloodlust reached me—

I lashed out.

The movement was too fast for an infant.

Too controlled.

Too precise.

My tail whipped toward Hinata's face, aiming directly for his throat.

But before it could land—

He vanished.

No—

He moved.

Effortlessly.

Like he had already predicted what I would do before I did it.

My tail struck empty air.

Then, before I could process what had happened—

Lightning crackled.

A sharp, unstable energy shot through the air like a warning strike.

Not from me.

From—

The Fledgling.

He had reacted too.

His tiny hands, barely able to grasp his father's cloak moments before, were now glowing with electricity.

Raw.

Uncontrolled.

But undeniably magic.

And it was aimed at me.

For a split second, we locked eyes.

Something passed between us.

Recognition.

Understanding.

Then, his lightning struck my tail.

The energy surged around it—

And then, nothing happened.

His attack crackled, dispersed, but my tail remained completely intact.

It did not flicker.

It did not waver.

It absorbed nothing. It repelled nothing. It simply… remained.

Like an unchanging force.

And in that instant—

Lucian.

I didn't know why the name came to me.

But the recklessness, the way the Fledgling attacked first without thinking, striking directly at the source—

It felt familiar.

It felt like him.

Like Lucian.

The thought was so clear, so instinctive, that it sent a chill down my spine.

Why did I think that?

Hinata noticed.

His eyes flicked toward the tail, just for a second—

Then to the Fledgling—

Then to me.

There was a question in his gaze.

Something even he couldn't place.

But he didn't ask.

Not yet.

Instead, he chuckled.

"Well then."

"That was unexpected."

Satoshi stared at me.

Lelyah held me tighter.

But Hinata?

He just looked amused.

"A prodigy," he murmured, ruffling his son's hair. "Looks like you take after me after all."

He then turned his sharp gaze to Satoshi.

"Tell me—does she always attack when she doesn't like something?"

"She's a baby, Hinata," Satoshi said flatly.

"Mm."

Hinata's gaze flickered toward me again, studying the tail.

Then—

"She's a Summoner, huh?"

Lelyah stiffened.

"You can tell?"

"Hard not to," Hinata mused, voice light, but eyes sharp. "A Summoner manifesting this early… That's rare."

He paused.

"What element?"

Satoshi and Lelyah exchanged a glance.

Then Lelyah spoke.

"We don't know."

For the first time, Hinata hesitated.

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I mean," Lelyah said carefully, "Satoshi and I both tried sensing it. There's nothing."

"That's impossible."

Hinata's expression darkened slightly.

A Summoner's construct was always tied to an element.

A tail like that should be brimming with fire, water, wind—something.

Yet—

"Try sensing it yourself," Satoshi said.

Hinata narrowed his eyes.

Then, slowly, he focused his mana.

Reaching.

Feeling.

He expected fire.

He expected earth.

He expected something.

What he got—

Was nothing.

Not the absence of mana.

Not the incomplete affinity of a child whose magic hadn't fully formed yet.

Just… nothing.

A void where something should be.

Something he had never encountered before.

Hinata pulled back.

His expression was unreadable.

"…Strange."

"You felt it too, then?" Satoshi asked.

Hinata didn't answer right away.

Then—

"I'll admit, I wasn't expecting that."

"What does it mean?" Lelyah pressed.

Hinata exhaled.

"It means," he said carefully, "that whatever that tail is—it doesn't behave like normal Summoner magic."

"Is that a problem?"

"No." A pause. "Not yet."

He glanced back at me.

I forced myself to remain still.

Quiet.

"But it could be."

The air in the room was already tense.

Chiori's manifested tail had been shocking enough.

But when lightning crackled in the hands of Hinata's son, both Lelyah and Satoshi froze.

That shouldn't be possible.

Magic wasn't supposed to manifest until age five.

Yet here he was.

A child no older than Chiori, already wielding Ranged Lightning Magic.

Lelyah's grip on Chiori tightened slightly.

"Hinata."

Her voice was carefully measured.

"Your son—"

"Yes?" Hinata's tone was light, but his gaze sharp.

Lelyah exhaled.

"He's using magic."

"Yes."

She narrowed her eyes.

"How long has he been able to do that?"

Satoshi studied the Fledgling.

The small child blinked up at them, sparks of residual electricity still flickering along his fingertips.

He didn't seem to fully understand what he had just done.

But Hinata—

Hinata wasn't surprised.

Satoshi's eyes narrowed.

"You knew."

Hinata tilted his head slightly.

"Of course."

Lelyah stared. "And you weren't going to mention it?"

Hinata gave a small shrug.

"Why would I?"

Lelyah and Satoshi exchanged a look.

Because that meant one thing.

This wasn't new.

Hinata had known for a while.

And unlike them—

He wasn't worried.

He was proud.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Two infants.

Both manifesting magic years before they should.

Both breaking the rules.

Lelyah finally let out a slow breath.

"You act like this is normal."

"It is for him," Hinata said simply, ruffling his son's hair. "It's in his blood."

Satoshi's jaw tightened.

"That's convenient."

Hinata smirked. "Isn't it?"

Satoshi knew what this meant.

If anyone else found out about this—

If the world knew that two children, not just one, had manifested magic early—

Questions would be asked.

Unwanted attention would follow.

And suddenly, Chiori wouldn't be the only one being watched.

Satoshi exhaled slowly.

"This stays between us."

Hinata turned back to Satoshi.

"Do you think I'd tell anyone?"

"I don't know," Satoshi admitted. "But I do know this—you came here with suspicions."

"And now I have answers."

The words hung in the air.

Neither man spoke for a long time.

Then, finally, Hinata sighed.

"I won't ask questions."

A pause.

"For now."

Hinata turned slightly, gaze flickering toward Chiori one last time.

Then, almost idly, he murmured—

"Can't remember the last time I saw a Summoner."

His eyes slid back to Satoshi.

"Wonder if any more of the Hoshino bloodline are still alive."

The room froze.

Lelyah's breath hitched.

Satoshi's entire body stiffened.

Just for a second.

But I noticed.

More importantly—

Hinata noticed too.

That name again.

Hoshino.

I didn't understand why—

But I knew.

I knew I had heard it before.

And I knew it meant something.

Because the second it was spoken—

Dad reacted.

Not with words.

Not with anger.

But with silence.

And somehow—

That was worse.

As soon as the Sakamata Clan left, Satoshi exhaled through his nose.

"Lelyah."

Lelyah looked up at him.

"Go to the courtyard."

She hesitated.

"Satoshi—"

"Now."

His tone was calm—but absolute.

She didn't argue.

Without another word, she turned and walked outside.

Satoshi took a moment.

Then, he stepped into the halls and called for the head steward.

"Gather everyone. Now."

The caretakers.

The maids.

The butlers.

All of them.

The estate staff assembled quickly in the courtyard, murmuring among themselves.

Satoshi stood before them, hands behind his back.

His expression was cold.

The murmurs died instantly.

"You will not speak a word of what transpired today."

His voice was even. Steady.

"Not to each other. Not to guests. Not to those outside this estate."

Silence.

"You will not discuss my daughter."

A pause.

"And if I hear so much as a whisper—"

He let the words hang.

No threats.

No raised voice.

Just finality.

The message was clear.

And no one dared to disobey.

I didn't know what had just happened.

But I knew one thing for sure.

My father—

Satoshi Tomaszewski—

Had a past he didn't want to acknowledge.

And I—

Chiori Tomaszewski—

Had just heard the name that made him flinch.

For the second time.

The courtyard was still.

The estate staff had already dispersed, carrying with them the weight of Satoshi's warning.

But Satoshi himself remained, standing under the cool shade of an overhanging tree, arms crossed, deep in thought.

His mind was calculating—not just the events that had transpired today, but what came next.

Chiori's display was too much to ignore.

And if they couldn't hide it—

They had to control it.

"She's going to need training."

Lelyah, standing at his side, glanced at him.

"She's barely six months old, Satoshi."

"That doesn't change what we saw today."

A pause.

"You know I'm right."

Lelyah exhaled.

She did.

She just didn't like it.

Satoshi began listing them off, one by one.

"A tutor for reading and writing."

"She's already picking up words faster than expected," Lelyah admitted.

"Exactly. We should take advantage of that."

"Etiquette?"

"Of course."

"Politics?"

"She'll need to understand the world she's living in."

Lelyah sighed, rubbing her temple.

"You're planning her entire future before she can even walk."

"I'm ensuring she has one."

His words were absolute.

Lelyah fell silent.

Because she knew.

He wasn't wrong.