Chapter Text
The Miya family wasn’t your typical Japanese family. They owned a cozy little restaurant called Onigiri Miya, famous for its flavourful onigiri and a menu of traditional Japanese dishes that drew in customers from all over Hyogo. But their culinary prowess wasn’t what made them stand out.
They were wizards, living quietly among mortals—non-magical humans blissfully unaware of the existence of magic. While the rest of the world bustled about their daily lives, the Miyas juggled the responsibilities of running a successful restaurant, raising teenagers, and keeping their magical abilities under wraps.
The family had two sons, Atsumu and Osamu, sixteen-year-old twins who were as talented as they were troublesome. They were still learning to control their powers, often with disastrous—and hilarious—results. Their mischief only doubled when they took in Rintaro Suna, a fellow wizard and the twins’ best friend. Rin’s parents had passed away years ago, and the Miya family welcomed him as one of their own.
Three teenage boys with magic and part-time jobs in the restaurant? Chaos was practically a regular item on the menu.
“Rin, ya can’t serve soggy rice with donburi,” Osamu groaned, snatching the customer’s order back from Rin’s hands before it reached the dining area. He grimaced at the mess of toppings sliding off the rice and set about fixing it. “Honestly, I’ve seen Gingy plate better food than this.”
“Relax, it’s just rice,” Rin replied, leaning casually against the counter with a roll of his eyes.
“It’s not just rice! It’s the foundation of the dish!” Osamu snapped, already crafting a new bowl. “Here. Take this to table three before they think we’ve forgotten about ‘em.”
“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Perfectionist,” Rin teased, grabbing the plate with a smirk.
Atsumu strolled into the kitchen, balancing a stack of dirty dishes with practiced ease. He took one look at his twin and their adopted brother bickering and let out a dramatic sigh. “Osamu, ya need to chill. Ya put half this much effort into schoolwork, and maybe Ma wouldn’t have to charm yer grades up every semester.”
“I’m perfectly capable of gettin’ my grades up without her help,” Osamu retorted, though the tips of his ears burned red. He returned his attention to the stove, where the tamagoyaki sizzled to perfection.
“Sure, ya are,” Atsumu replied, stacking the dishes in the sink. “Still, I gotta admit—yer miles better at magic lessons than me. Ya actually listen.”
“That’s ‘cause he’s a goody-two-shoes,” Rin chimed in, pausing in the doorway with the plate of food still in hand. He was grinning ear to ear, clearly enjoying Osamu’s annoyance.
“Rin, get the food to the table before I turn ya into a toad,” Osamu threatened, waving a spatula like a wand. Rin finally left, laughing all the way.
The kitchen fell into a brief, blessed silence, save for the sound of sizzling food and the clatter of plates being washed. Naturally, Atsumu couldn’t let it last.
“Hey, ya been practicin’ yer transfiguration spells?” he asked, elbow-deep in soapy water. “Don’t wanna see ya turnin’ Ma’s cups into mice again. I swear, I can still hear her screamin’ every time I think about it.”
Osamu chuckled, his irritation fading at the memory. Their mother had been frantic, chasing mice-turned-cups around the house with her wand, muttering spells under her breath. To this day, she refused to buy new cups, choosing instead to enchant every mouse she saw back into her favourite floral-patterned mugs.
“I’ve been practicin’,” Osamu said, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Actually, I’ve been turnin’ Gingy into a dog when Ma’s not around.”
Atsumu barked a laugh. “Poor Gingy! That cat’s already scarred for life, and now ya got him thinkin’ he’s a dog?”
“Scarred? Please. That cat’s so fat he can barely make it up the stairs without the steps complainin’. I think he enjoys bein’ a dog for a few minutes.” Osamu replied, his thoughts going to the overweight cat that their mom insists on feeding multiple times a day, just because he looks so cute with only his one ear and big pupiled eyes.
Rin sauntered back into the kitchen, now scrolling through his phone. “Honestly, Gingy’s living the dream. Gets fed, gets cuddled, and now he gets magic makeovers. Meanwhile, I can’t even get a break from Osamu’s lectures.”
“Put yer phone away,” Osamu snapped, sliding a freshly plated tamagoyaki toward Rin. “Table seven. Go.”
With a dramatic sigh, Rin tucked his phone back into his Onigiri Miya apron and left, muttering something about slave labour.
The twins exchanged amused looks. For all the chaos, they wouldn’t trade their odd little family for anything.
Atsumu was about to grab another round of dirty dishes when Chitose Miya swept into the kitchen, expertly balancing a tray piled high with plates. “Atsumu, love, ya really gotta check for these dirty dishes more often. We can’t have customers think we’re runnin’ a pigsty,” she said, her tone firm but affectionate. She slid the plates into the sink with practiced ease before turning to her eldest son, her fingers immediately finding his unruly yellow fringe.
“And while we’re at it, ya know I could charm that hair to look less like it’s been dunked in turmeric,” she teased, her sharp grey eyes twinkling with mischief.
“’Maaa, my hair’s fine,” Atsumu whined, his cheeks flushing a deep pink as he swatted her hand away. “I grabbed all the dishes like ten minutes ago!” He called after her as she moved to Osamu, ruffling his neatly combed hair with equal vigor.
“Ya’ve been makin’ sure these two don’t mess around, right?” she asked Osamu, who barely looked up from the stove where he was flipping another batch of tamagoyaki. He rolled his eyes at her antics but gave a dutiful nod.
“Of course, ‘Ma.”
“And that’s why yer my favorite child,” she declared with a grin, moving to the back of the kitchen to leaf through an ancient, leather-bound grimoire resting on a counter.
“Ma! Ya could at least pretend to love us equally,” Atsumu complained, crossing his arms as he glared at her playfully. “It can’t be good for my self-esteem, hearin’ ya say stuff like that all the time.”
Chitose smirked, not even looking up from her book. “I love all my children, but Osamu’s the only one that doesn’t give me grief every five minutes. That earns a little favoritism.”
Atsumu huffed dramatically, but deep down, he couldn’t argue. Osamu was the one who kept the house running smoothly, handled customer complaints with grace, and even sat down to gossip with their mom over tea. Still, he didn’t have to rub it in.
The kitchen door swung open, and Rin shuffled in like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His apron hung crooked, and his hair stuck up in odd directions, like he’d been running his hands through it all afternoon. “Can’t I just be on dish duty today?” he groaned, slapping an order slip onto the counter in front of Osamu. “I can’t handle another old lady tellin’ me her whole life story before she orders soba.”
“Nope,” Chitose said without looking up from her grimoire. “This is yer punishment for failin’ yer math exam. Ya need to toughen up.”
Rin groaned louder, slumping against the counter with an exaggerated pout. “I can’t help it if I’m not made for math, Chitose-san,” he whined. “Besides, I’m way better at spells than numbers.”
“Not exactly a high bar,” Chitose quipped, raising an eyebrow at him. “Ya finished that essay on the history of hexin’, right?”
Rin froze mid-pout, his eyes darting to the side as he tried to come up with a plausible excuse. “Can I get a raincheck on that?” he tried, pulling out his most pitiful puppy-dog eyes. “I’ll take the Friday evening shift if ya let me skip the essay.”
Atsumu, who had been silently watching the exchange, burst out laughing so hard he nearly dropped a plate into the sink. “Nice try, Rin, but ‘Ma’s immune to that face.”
Chitose smirked, closing her grimoire with a decisive snap. “If ya take the front counter—deal. But if I catch ya slackin’, yer doin’ the essay and cleanin’ the bathrooms.”
Rin groaned in defeat, muttering something under his breath about “evil family conspiracies” as he reluctantly nodded. He knew he’d been outplayed—Chitose’s cunning was almost as infamous as her magical abilities.
“Good choice,” she said sweetly, patting him on the cheek as she breezed past. “Now get out there and make some small talk, love. It’s good for character development.”
Rin’s glare could’ve melted steel, but he grabbed the tray and trudged out of the kitchen, leaving Atsumu and Osamu snickering behind him.
“Ya know,” Atsumu said, leaning on the sink as he wiped his hands on a towel, “Ma’s really got a knack for gettin’ what she wants.”
“Runs in the family,” Osamu replied with a smirk, sliding the next plate of tamagoyaki toward the counter. “Now quit slackin’ and get back to work. I ain’t coverin’ for ya when she comes back.”
Atsumu grinned, knowing full well his twin was right. In this family, there was no escaping the whirlwind that was Chitose Miya—or her mischievous brand of motherly love.
-
The three teenagers lounged in the family’s lair, the cozy yet chaotic room filled with flickering candlelight and stacks of magical books. Osamu sat at the central desk, scribbling away at an essay about his newest findings on the transfiguration spell Animoza Espinoza. His handwriting was sharp and precise, like everything he did. Lately, he’d been perfecting the spell by turning himself into a fox and back. For added entertainment—or mischief—he’d also been turning his siblings into cats just to annoy Gingy, the family’s long-suffering pet cat.
Rin reclined on a couch nearby, lazily scrolling through the wizarding web on his enchanted tablet. The holographic interface flickered as he browsed the latest trends in the magical world, occasionally clicking on virtual shops to try on outfits. He tilted his head to admire a sleek t-shirt projected onto his torso, frowning as he adjusted the fit.
At the same time, Atsumu was hunched over another desk, carefully writing a letter to their father, who taught Defense Against the Dark Arts at a prestigious magic school in England. His wizarding pen scratched softly against enchanted parchment, and a bottle of invisible ink sat at his elbow. The ink’s enchantment ensured only the recipient could read the letter, a precaution his dad had introduced after a certain incident involving a high school cafeteria flood, an overly curious Chitose, and two months of gruelling bathroom duty. Atsumu still cringed whenever Taco Night rolled around.
“You guys think I could charm my math teacher into giving me a better grade? Or better yet, charm myself into actually writing a decent exam?” Rin asked lazily, tugging at the hem of his virtual shirt before dismissing it with a flick.
“Don’t even think about it. ‘Ma would sniff it out before ya finished the incantation,” Osamu replied without looking up, his quill never missing a beat on the parchment.
Atsumu hummed in agreement, momentarily distracted as he re-dipped his pen in the ink. “She’s got eyes in the back of her head. Trust me, ain’t worth the risk.”
Rin smirked, shrugging. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” he said, clicking purchase on a sleek, dark sweater before the vendor vanished from his screen.
As if summoned by his words, Chitose swept into the lair, fanning her freshly washed hair with a wave of her wand. Her presence was as commanding as ever, and the faint lavender scent of her hair potion filled the air. She paused, one eyebrow arching suspiciously. “What don’t I know?”
Rin froze mid-scroll, his face caught somewhere between a smirk and a grimace. “Uh, nothing, Chitose-san. Just talking nonsense.”
Her sharp grey eyes flicked to him, then down to the new sweater he was wearing. “Nice sweater,” she said casually, a smile tugging at her lips. “Hope ya didn’t charge it to my card this time.”
“Course not!” Rin replied quickly, sliding into a chair behind the desk to avoid further questioning. “Learned my lesson after the last time, didn’t I?”
Chitose gave a knowing hum, clearly unconvinced but choosing to let it slide for now. With a flick of her wand, her teaching supplies materialized in a neat stack beside her. She turned her attention to her sons, her smile softening. “Alright, anyone know the counter-spell to Animoza Espinoza?”
“Huminoza Espinoza,” Atsumu replied instantly, not even looking up from his letter.
“Good job, Atsumu,” she said, her tone warm. Then, with a swish of her wand, she made his pen leap out of his hand and hover in midair. “But eyes on me, hun. Ya can write to yer dad after the lesson.”
Atsumu sighed but nodded, immediately dropping his focus on the letter.
As Chitose flipped her dark brown hair over one shoulder, Osamu flicked his wand with a lazy but precise motion. Her hair twisted itself into a perfect bun, secured with a decorative pin that materialized from thin air.
“Man,” Atsumu said, half-impressed and half-annoyed. “When’d ya master stylin’ spells like that? I’m still workin’ on basic transfiguration.”
“When I decided to charm my hair to match with my eyes,” Osamu shot back, smirking. “Not piss yellow like yer hair.”
Atsumu’s jaw dropped, a mix of offense and indignation flashing across his face. “Oi! My hair’s perfectly fine—'Ma said it’s unique!”
“Unique like a banana,” Osamu deadpanned, turning back to his essay.
Rin, caught between them, clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. The bickering escalated into playful jabs, with Atsumu threatening to dye Osamu’s eyebrows pink and Osamu coolly suggesting he’d turn Atsumu into a canary if he didn’t shut up.
Chitose watched the exchange with fond exasperation, her wand twirling idly between her fingers. Her boys might drive each other—and her—up the wall, but moments like these reminded her just how much she loved the chaos of their little wizarding family.
“Alright, alright,” she finally said, cutting through their banter. “Let’s focus, or I’ll have all three of ya scrubbing the cauldrons after dinner. And believe me, they’re filthy after Taco Night.”
The room fell silent for a split second before Rin groaned dramatically. “Anything but Taco Night!”