The Irregular at Magic High School: Everyone Loves My Brother?!

The Call

After dinner, Tatsuya retreated to his room, engrossed in a low-priority task he often turned to when time allowed. It wasn't critical, so when the phone rang, he answered without hesitation.

"Yes?"

"Tatsuya-dono, thank you for your efforts the other day," came Hayama's voice.

Few knew Tatsuya's direct line, so he had a guess about the caller, but no clue why Hayama would reach out.

"Another mess?" Tatsuya asked, voice dry.

"No, not at all," Hayama replied.

"Then?"

"Maya-sama wishes to speak with you."

"My aunt?" Tatsuya's stomach sank with dread, but cutting the call wasn't an option. He braced himself.

"Please hold," Hayama said.

The line switched to Maya. Tatsuya hoped to keep this brief, but with her, nothing was ever simple.

"Tatsuya-san?" Maya's voice was unusually soft.

"Aunt? You sound… different. Is Aoki nearby?"

Maya, typically brimming with high-pitched glee, was subdued. Tatsuya's suspicion was natural.

"I don't care about you that much, you know," she said, her tone oddly coy.

"What?" Tatsuya blinked, bewildered.

She chuckled, reverting to her usual flair. "How was that, Takkun? My finest performance yet!"

"What was that about?"

"Tsundere, darling!" she chirped.

"What inspired that?" he muttered, exasperated.

"Anyway, Takkun, congrats on enrollment!"

"Thanks," he sighed, wishing she'd said this in person last time. But there was more.

"Those fools who mocked you? Maybe I'll crush them," Maya said, venom lacing her words.

"Where'd you hear that?" Tatsuya asked.

"Se-cret~" she teased.

"From Miyuki's guards, right?"

The next head's protection wasn't left to Tatsuya alone. The main family had their experts, so Maya's knowledge wasn't surprising.

"It's not worth bothering about," Tatsuya said.

"But it's infuriating, Takkun, seeing you treated like you're worthless!"

"I don't care about the opinions of people who judge by appearances."

"Ugh, so cool!" Maya squealed. "I want to rush over and hug you right now!"

"…"

It took nearly thirty minutes to calm her down. Afterward, drained, Tatsuya slipped into bed. Normally, he'd still be working, but tonight, with no urgent tasks, he let it go.

At the same time, Miyuki received a call.

"Miyuki, congratulations on your enrollment," her father said, with Sayuri in the background.

"Thank you, Father… Sayuri-san," Miyuki replied, her tone flat. She harbored little affection for her estranged father.

"'Sayuri-san'? That's no way to address your mother," he chided.

"You know why I call her that. And don't lecture me when you're at fault too, Father."

"What do you mean?"

"You know Tatsuya enrolled too, don't you?"

"Him? He's just a thing. No need for that."

Miyuki's anger flared. The urge to slam the receiver down burned, but she couldn't bear another word from a father who called his son a thing.

"Excuse me!" she snapped, cutting the call.

She sank to the floor, trembling. "Why must Onii-sama endure this?"

The world's cold treatment of the person she revered most was unbearable. Her father's words were unforgivable.

"I should sleep," she murmured.

When upset, Miyuki's habit was to sleep it off. So, as always, she slipped into bed and drifted away.

The next morning, Tatsuya found Miyuki already in the living room, an unusual sight since she typically left early.

"You're up early," he noted.

"I haven't greeted Sensei about enrollment," she replied.

"Want to join me then?"

"No, I can't keep up with your training anymore."

"You don't have to, but suit yourself. Sensei will be thrilled—maybe too much."

"Protect me if he gets carried away, okay?" she teased, her playful smile brightening Tatsuya's mood.

Neither mentioned the calls. Miyuki glided on rollerblades, Tatsuya ran, both heading to their destination. Scaling hills, their magic control was critical—one slip could spell disaster. At near 60 km/h, even in the quiet early morning, they drew eyes.

"So fast!"

"Is that magic?"

Ignoring the stares, Tatsuya and Miyuki reached the temple, just ten minutes from home at their blistering pace.

The Ninja Temple

Atop a modest hill, Tatsuya and Miyuki arrived at Kuze Temple. Instead of passing through the gate, they paused before it.

"Wait here. Today's training is sparring," Tatsuya said.

"Good luck, Onii-sama," Miyuki replied, her voice warm.

Before them stood a monk, though his aura screamed ascetic warrior more than serene priest. As Tatsuya stepped forward, the monk lunged. Unfazed, Tatsuya deflected with precision.

Miyuki watched her brother's prowess with adoring eyes, but a presence stirred behind her.

"Hey, Miyuki-kun! Been a while," a voice chirped.

"Sensei! I've told you not to sneak up like that!" Miyuki yelped, startled.

The man, Yakumo Kuze, grinned like a mischievous child, rubbing his shaved head as he brushed off her scolding.

"Can't help it. I'm a shinobi. Stealth's an occupational hazard," he said, chuckling.

"There's no such thing as a ninja profession anymore. You should cure that 'hazard' quickly," Miyuki retorted, her tone serious.

Yakumo laughed. "Don't lump me with common ninjas. I'm a proper shinobi, steeped in tradition."

"I know your lineage, Sensei. That's why it's baffling you're so… frivolous."

She wanted to say more but stopped, knowing it was futile. Yakumo, despite his monk status, was a self-proclaimed shinobi, a master of ancient magic distinct from pre-modern spies. This earned him the title of "Sensei" from Miyuki and "Master" from Tatsuya, though his eccentricities cast a shadow of doubt.

"Is that the First High uniform?" Yakumo asked, eyeing her attire.

"Yes, yesterday was the entrance ceremony."

"Looks good. Fresh, elegant, with a hint of allure."

"I came to report my enrollment…" Miyuki began, but Yakumo's enthusiasm surged.

"Like a bud about to bloom! Fresh sprouts of spring! This… this is moe, Miyuki-kun!" he exclaimed.

Miyuki recoiled slightly, wondering if this monk was too worldly for his own good. She recalled his earlier disdain for being called a "common" ninja, yet here he was, reveling in vulgar slang.

You're the real vulgar one, Sensei, she thought but held her tongue.

Before she could speak, a shadow struck at Yakumo.

"Hmph!" Yakumo grunted.

"Master, you're scaring Miyuki. That's enough," Tatsuya said, his voice calm but firm.

"Well done, Tatsuya-kun, sneaking up on me…!" Yakumo countered, parrying Tatsuya's strike, locking his right hand, and throwing a punch. Tatsuya twisted free, catching Yakumo's fist and pinning it under his arm.

"Amazing! Matching Master!" a monk gasped.

"As expected of Tatsuya-dono," another said.

"They're no match for him," a third added.

The monks, previously floored by Tatsuya, rose to watch, awestruck. They accepted their defeat with clear admiration, recognizing the vast gap in skill.

"Let's call it a day," Yakumo said, still composed.

"Yeah…" Tatsuya panted, collapsing to the ground.

"I might not even beat you in sparring anymore," Yakumo teased.

"Even if we're even in hand-to-hand, the gap's still huge. I've got a long way to go," Tatsuya replied.

"If we were equal with magic thrown in, I'd lose my title as Master," Yakumo laughed.

"Onii-sama, Sensei, here," Miyuki offered, holding out towels and water.

Yakumo took them eagerly, while Tatsuya, too exhausted, couldn't.

"Onii-sama, are you okay?" Miyuki asked, kneeling beside him, concern in her eyes.

"I'm fine," Tatsuya said, forcing himself up with a burst of effort.

"Still got some fight in you, huh?" Yakumo said, his grin impish.

"I can manage this much," Tatsuya shot back.

"Sorry, Miyuki. Your skirt got dirty because of me," Tatsuya said, noticing the mud.

"It's nothing," she replied, pulling out a slim mobile device. Unlike the common bracelet CADs, it risked falling but allowed one-handed use, which Miyuki preferred. Psions gathered, light flashed, and the mud vanished from her skirt.

"Hold still, Onii-sama," she said, cleaning his sweat and dirt-stained clothes. To Miyuki, it was unthinkable for her to be pristine while Tatsuya wasn't. Others might think she was the priority, but to her, he was.

"Oh! Onii-sama, let's have breakfast. Sensei, join us?" Miyuki suggested, unpacking a basket.

"Sure," Tatsuya said.

"Absolutely. Your cooking's divine, Miyuki-kun," Yakumo agreed.

Despite the magical exertion, Miyuki set up with ease. Tatsuya and Yakumo exchanged wry smiles, knowing this was effortless for her. Their faint amusement came from understanding her unshakable devotion, a bond that needed no words.