Moribito One-Shot

Us – English


Pairing: Balsa/Tanda

Characters: Balsa Yonsa, Tanda, OC

Year of publication: 2015

Edited version: 2022


Note – Update 2022 : The French version finally has its own story. That mean the English version is now alone here :3 Well, as most of my other Moribito fanfics are currently under a re-writing, this one-shot had also been fixed and edited, but it's not beta-ed. So, I did my very best to translate it. This one-shot is also related to my main series "no Moribito", as a transition between Crossroad and Ransa no Moribito.

I would also like to take this opportunity to thanks all of my friends, and my family, who are "parents" for having shared with me their slices of life, their feelings and emotions. It's allowed me to write deeper on how parents can feel about their children.

And since I'm at the age where my friends and family are having children, I decided to write about parents. I don't have kids myself yet, and I don't babysit either, but I hope the story will be realistic enough.

Have a good read!


Balsa

If I had been told when I was younger that I would have children and that I would get married, I would have laughed. I had far too big ambitions regarding my work as a bodyguard and my promise to Jiguro. Always and constantly stuck in a changing routine, I couldn't stay in a fixed place. I wasn't like Tanda. A Rotan innkeeper once – even gently – lectured me about settle down.

"You don't think when you're young, that you'll ever want a quiet life for yourself. But I can say for certain that it's a pleasant sort of life. I said that if you didn't accept your life and settle down soon, you'd wind up like a sakawa or wild salmon, always swimming upstream."

Now, I finally understood the meaning of his words. I won't change a single thing of my life now, because I love it that way. I can't live far from what I call today : my child, my daughter, my flesh and my blood.

When she first looked at me when she was born, snuggling against my skin, in the darkness and silence, I fell in love with her. This love at the first sight that can't be describe with words. I'd never felt this before. Even Tanda, who was the father, had never managed to make me feel such strong emotions. Our daughter was so small, so warm. I loved, and still love yet today, the warmth of her little body in my arms.

I can't remember where I heard this sentence, but it was said to me, and I quote: "We love our children from the first breath and we will love them until our last. We gave them life, and they gave us a reason to live." And I believe it now. I can't help but worry when my six-month-old can't stop crying despite me rocking her, trying to breastfeed her, checking if she's too hot or too cold. And when I'm no longer able, I pass her into Tanda's arms, exhausted. Above all, I was only disappointed at not being able to calm her down. And sometimes my patience reaches its own limits and I need to recharge my energy before being overwhelmed. Patience is something I constantly have to work on and my daughter is teaching me about it as much as I need to learn.

From now on, I accepted this life; the one Jiguro had so much trouble to give to me. My daughter has become my first priority in my entire life. It's not always an easy job and no one said raising a child was easy like "hello". I couldn't hang out when I wanted to anymore – except when she was sleeping, watched over by her father. In fact, I was no longer the center of the universe, but became the universe of a center. Of course I was hanging out sometime for work. And yet to this day, it still happens to me to come across resentful former guards who want revenge to calm their ego and pride.

Each time, my only goal to stay alive was to live for my child. I had to live for her and couldn't leave her. My habits have changed, whether I want it or not. I learned to open my heart and listen more to fill her emotional needs; to give her love and affection and to show her that Mommy knows how to smile, to listen, to speak and to gives advises. The face of the impassive, emotionless and cold warrior is no longer needed. And honestly, I don't regret what my child has brought to me.


Tanda

Balsa has always had this force of habit: by telling me that our child was an accident. That she wasn't expected in her life plans. This was what happened when a man took a wife, or vice versa. Master Torogai told me that very often during the first time Balsa and I discovered her pregnancy.

But I don't think our daughter was actually an accident. I want to believe that she entered our lives for a particular reason: to teach us how to live life itself. To enjoy happiness and every moment spent together. I'll always remember her first meeting, when she let out her first cry; such an emotional moment.

At this moment, the reality hit me. When Balsa was resting after giving birth and Torogai was out to make some magic-weaver spells. It was the first time I had – by my own means – to calm my baby; taking her clumsily in my arms and trying my best to rock her because her Mom had to rest. I then realized that a fragile, little, being depended on me for everything, that no one else could protect her except us, her parents. I was her father, and I had to try to comfort my baby and guess her different type of cries so that I could fulfill her basic needs. Her crying was her only way to communicate.

I found out that I'd become more resourceful. Like, holding a baby in my arms while trying to open the door alone or put down an object here and there. I learned to be reflexes alert when my little one started to walk on all fours. And when Balsa took care of her, I couldn't help but melt at the sight of it. It was a whole other version of her, totally different from her warrior attitude.

She was so used to say that she couldn't stay at the same place. She was so used to told me she didn't want to settle down and have children.

"I'm an independent woman, Tanda. I don't want a child under my care, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week," she explained without emotions.

"Why?"

"I don't have any maternal instinct. I'm uncomfortable in the company of children... and besides, you can't change my habits of always traveling from place to place. I know you always wanted to have children, Tanda, but I don't want. I don't want them. It's too late to change my lifestyle, now. The smell of blood seeped too deep in my hands... they are more suited to holding weapons than a baby. »

The memory of this conversation made me laugh inwardly. Now, I watched her playing with our child, laughing and having fun. Watching Balsa cuddle our daughter, rock her, and watch her sleep for hours as she listened to her peaceful, calm breathing. I don't know if Balsa would feel embarrassed if I told her she was a great mom. And this new lifestyle doesn't seem to displease her, on the contrary. She seems to like it, trying this new experience with an eager enthusiasm.

When our daughter started teething, the only way I could find to calm her pain was to put a carrot in her hand and watch her chew on the vegetable, making odds noises, satisfied. I was happy. I had everything to be: a child and a wonderful mother for them. I don't know if I can call Balsa as my wife, but I can always consider her as my partner. Our routine has changed, sure, but that's not that bad.


Balsa

"Mama... "

It was her first word. I turned to her and looked at her, stunned.

"What did you say there, sweetheart?" I cheered, lowering myself to her level.

"Mama!"

"Bravo! Say daddy now. Da-da."

"... Mama."

I burst out laughing. She repeated "mama" many times, clapping her chubby hands together and laughing. I was melting as her laugh echoed in the hut. I still couldn't believe I'd made such a beautiful creation. I loved her with all my heart.

There are many memories in my mind, but there was one that was stronger than all the others. It was a great family day. I'd shown my back to my two-year-old daughter, and immediately she climbed up with the agility of a little monkey to hold on tight. I had passed my spear under the joint of her thighs. We were on a family outing to relax. There were other children playing on the playground, at the lower ougi.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that my daughter was looking at them longingly, her head resting on my shoulder.

"Do you want to join them, sweatheart?" I asked her.

She shook her head no with an embarrassed pout. However, I could see that her eyes continued to look at the other children. Normally, she wasn't shy by nature.

"Do you want Mommy and Daddy to come with you, honey?" Tanda added, helping me.

"Yes..."

I bent down and she got off my back before taking my hand.

"Are we going to the swings?" I suggested.

"Yes."

"Mommy will push you."

She sat up and I started pushing her gently. She asked to go higher, but Tanda was constantly afraid that she would fall and get hurt.

"Worst-case scenario, she'll learn from her mistakes," I tried to reassure him. "If she doesn't learn how to hurt herself now, she'll be constantly scared for the rest of her life."

Luckily, my daughter held on tight as she laughed. I watched her hair flying in the wind, printed in my mind her wonderful, beaming smile and warm laugh. And just thinking about it, my heart starts beating with pride.

She was also a little ticklish. For instance, when Tanda wanted to look her over to see if she was growing well, she was laughing at every touch of his gentle hands on her little body.

"We have a little ticklish girl here," he laughed.

"Daddy..." she laughed as she was struggling to find her breath. "Stop it!"

"But I need to look you over to see if you are growing well."

"It tickles!"

She burst out laughing again, unable to bear the slightest touch of her father on her stomach. I saw in Tanda's eyes that he'd never been so happy in his entire life. He tried again, this time with something new.

"I'm going to reach out my hand. You put yours over mine. It will calm you down."

Our daughter laughed and tried to contract her stomach, even though she was still laughing.

I'll always remember that day, when she was three years old. She was secretly watching me doing my martial arts training. She approached so quietly, so slowly, that I hadn't noticed her at first imitating me in my gestures. It was when I let out my battle cry, releasing my energy that I heard her. I jumped, thinking I could have hit her by mistake, but when I saw her in the same position, she smiled at me.

"I want to be like just you!" she said happily.

"Do you want to learn martial arts?"

"Yes! Say yes! Say yes!"

She was so insistent that I gave in. I didn't even doubt for a second that she could – and wanted – to be just like me, later. Slowly, I taught her the katas, then, the other style of martial arts. She was gifted and every progress of her made me proud. She was a little warrior!


Tanda

Everything was so perfect. It was the dream life I always wanted to live. Like that memory; where there was much more good than harm. In retrospect, it was funnier than the moment when it happened.

I was making my daughter fly by jumping on a bouncy futon. Then the backlash made her jump into the air. She found it funny and always asked for more. The second attempt, however, was catastrophic. I jumped again under the eyes of my partner. And this time, instead of flying back and falling on the futon, my daughter ran straight into the wall, face and belly first before collapsing on the ground.

"Oh my God! Honey!" I panicked as I walked over to her.

Balsa was laughing against her will even though she was worried. We straightened our daughter up. She pouted and started crying, snuggled up into Mom's arms.

"Come on, sweetie," Balsa said, trying to comfort her.

"It's huuurrtt…" she whined.

"But why are you crying for? It was fun though!"

Balsa continued to laugh. Finally, after a while, our daughter finally laughed at her pain and asked to start again. It was something I didn't understand, but I knew children was living in the present moment, nothing more.

Before she was born, Balsa and I made compromises. The child's arrival wouldn't interfere with Balsa's freedom if she wanted to travel again; like that, she could get some fresh air without having our daughter constantly with her. But I didn't think that this desire would come back so fast. I liked Balsa's presence by my side. One night, as our four-year-old daughter was sleeping, on the second floor in her bed, Balsa began to be silent, once again.

"What's wrong, Balsa?"

"Tanda... I love our daughter more than anything in this world. I can't live without her, and she without me. She gave me a new point of view in my life, a new purpose. But I feel trap here... I need to taste again the freedom I once had."

"Do you... do you want to leave?"

"It won't be forever... I just need to clear my mind. Only that. Just like before..."

"Everything will never be like before," I tried to convince her. "Just to be sure: you're not leaving while our daughter is still asleep?"

"No. I'm leaving tomorrow morning. But I need this breath of fresh air. Please Tanda... these four years have been wonderful. The most beautiful in my entire life until now and I hope it will continue the same, but I need solitude. I'm going to break if it continues that way. I feel less happy…"

I sighed inwardly.

"I... I need to not feel followed every time I hang out or fight. Not having to constantly watching my surroundings. We'd already talked about it before she was born. We made compromises and you told me yourself that if I was feeling the need to leave for a while, I had to let you know. I don't want to leave as a thief."

"Our daughter sticks to you because she loves you, Balsa. It's typical of children. You probably did it with your own parents when you were at her age," I tried.

"I love her too Tanda, don't get me wrong... I love her more than anything and anyone here in this world. She's not a pot of glue, I know it. I also need her love to live. But I have this indescribable feeling. I really have to go, Tanda. I'll break. I feel like I'm at the end of the pregnancy... tired. Just tired emotionally."

"... Since when are you feeling that way?"

"... Too long to be calculated."

I continued to stare her in the eyes. I knew that my gaze was transposed into our child's and that she seemed to see our daughter's eyes in mine. She seemed to hesitate for a short while and then, she sighed.

"Since I gave birth, I think…" she confessed finally.

Her gaze pierced me. Was she going to start crying because she felt bad about leaving? Was she afraid that I would think she was leaving because of the child? I sighed. I didn't manage to find the right words for the situation. She turned around and began to pack her stuffs.


Balsa

I knew it. I knew it would happen.

Our daughter had always had a favorite parent and life had chosen it would be me. This, of course, never bothered me at all. I knew it was unfair to Tanda and I never asked for our daughter to choose me.

Anyway, I'd finally told our daughter that I was going on a trip for a while, alone. But she absolutely wanted to come with me. She wouldn't let me leave anytime soon, as she was clinging tightly to my dress and my legs. Tanda, who seemed having thought about my situation during the night, was also trying to get her off my legs. Her brown hair like mine and her two little ponytails were jumbled together and her little pink kanbalese dress with long sleeves was a real mess from struggling to stay stuck against me.

"Sweetheart, I have to go, enough is enough!" I tried to dissuade her, without raising the tone of my voice.

"You don't love me!" she cried to me, whining. "You don't want me!"

Those words hit me in the chest. Where had she learned those words in the first place? But I knew she was in crisis and she was spontaneous and had to get her emotions out and put them into words.

"It's not true, sweetie. Mommy will always continue to love you. I just have to go away for a while."

"Take me with you!"

"... Only when you'll be older. But not right now, you're still young."

"I want to be with you, Mommy!" she continued to reply. "Take me with you, take me with you, take me with you, take me with you!"

She continued to cry and scream in tears. She wanted so much to come with me. I had two choices: not reacting to her cry of distress, or give in. Finally, I lowered myself to her level and took her tear-stained face in my hands, trying to wipe her little cheeks flushed with tears.

"Don't leave me... Mommy..." she sobbed.

"I'll be back soon, sweetheart, before you know it."

"It's not true!"

"Of course it's true," I tried, smiling in the most reassuring way I could. "I'll bring you back a souvenir from my trip. You like surprises, don't you, sweetie?"

"... Yeah..."

She pouted.

"You're going to watch over Daddy waiting for me, aren't you?"

"Eh?"

"Daddy needs a woman to watch over him."

Tanda made a priceless expression and our daughter looked at him with a puzzled look. I smiled. After many efforts by trying to calm her down and make sure she didn't follow me, I finally was able to leave, alone; getting back to my old life, even for a short while.


I'd been gone for two weeks. It was like when I used to before having my child. I could do more things; I had more freedom without having to turn my head here and there to watch my surroundings. I also noticed that I was less exhausted as well. I'd realized that I had to recharge my energy from time to time before becoming too exhausted.

During my trip, I'd saved two commoner kids from the slavers' hands. I rendered harmless five men without even drawing my spear. The kids I rescued were a boy and a girl. They were named Tohya and Saya. Tohya was thirteen and Saya was ten. I paid for medicine to treat their injuries and helped them find low-cost, makeshift shelter so they could have a place where to stay. We became very good friends and have kept in touch ever since.

I slept a few times outside, under the stars, and when I wanted to, I rented a room in an inn. But something was different. It wasn't the comfort itself. Every night, I dared to ask the servants of the inn if they had another pillow, a little bigger than mine. Once the request received, I put it close to me, under the covers before falling asleep, hugging it against my heart. I couldn't recognize this addiction. In fact, I didn't recognize myself either.

I was about to start my third week, when, in the middle of the night, I opened my eyes. I was tossing and turning in every direction of my bed. My daughter constantly haunted my mind. Her smile, her joy, her laughter, her voice, the warmth of her body... I sat up in my bed. I had palpitations and tremors coming from my legs and my arms. I needed to take deep breaths to calm myself down. I was afraid about losing consciousness. My hands were numb. It was the first time I lived this kind of discomfort. I watched the moon through the open window and stood up. I breathed deeply once again to calm my heartbeat down. I packed up, took my spear, paid and rushed off. Sorry, Jiguro... I'll continue to fulfill your promise... but for now... something more important is waiting for me.

I ran so fast, so long that my lungs began to hurt. Tears started rolling down on my cheeks. I didn't even know if it was the wind against my eyes that were drying up or if it was just the thought about my family.

"You don't love me! You don't want me!"

Her words were still echoing in my mind; even though I knew she was still very young and was in crisis...

Sweetie, you know it. Mommy will always love you no matter what. I want you, much more than you can imagine.


Tanda

I couldn't calm my daughter's cries since her mom left. At least once a day, minimum, she gave me a fit of tears, asking for her mother. She refused to be in my arms to be comforted. So, I could only wait for her to calm down and fall asleep, exhausted. And I watched her sleep: a real copy-carbon of her mother at that age. And just then, I took her in my arms and laid her on her bed, on the second floor, pulling the blanket up to her chin to watch her, once again, for an eternity, sleep.

She often played with a small bamboo stick to imitate Balsa. She made me laugh again and again as she moved it around. And since she hadn't thought to stop her movement, the stick hit the back of her head by accident. I laughed, leaning against the edge of the door, as I was hearing the knock of the branch.

"Ouch!"

She slapped the bamboo stick as if to ground it and threw it on the grass as she ran towards me angrily.

Children bring such intense, indescribable joy. The slightest mistakes they ever do bright the day as it's so comic. Every moment that I look at her, every time she says "Daddy" or smiles... it's a story in itself. Every little moment spent with her could fill pages of emotions. It's the unconditional love that a child gives to their parent... a pure and divine love. That something you'll never find in a relationship.

That night, my daughter had another tantrum. As usual, I let her calm down until she asked me, calmly but still crying, to give her a hug before tucking her into the bed. Around two o'clock in the morning, I couldn't sleep anymore. So, I took my mind off things by crushing the medicinal herbs for orders. The ceiling creaked: my daughter was getting up too. She descended the stairs with her thick blanket wrapped around her body and joined me with her messy shoulder-length brown hair.

"Daddy, I can't sleep... you either?"

"No." I smiled. "I have insomnia."

"What's it?" she asked me as she sat down next to me, resting her head on my lap.

"That means you can't go back to sleep during the night," I explained her, playing in her thin and silky hair. "Or that you can't fall asleep at night and spend the night tossing and moving in your bed."

"Oh..."

There was a short silence. The warmth of my daughter's body against me made me serene. I felt like I was his protector, I felt like I was the universe of a center.

"Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think Mommy thinks of me?"

"Yes, always, honey."

She sighed and said nothing more before raising her head again.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, honey?"

"If I think very hard of Mommy, will she come back and appear here?"

Her question, so innocent and magical at the same time, made me smile. If only it were as easy and simple with Balsa wandering around like GrandMa Torogai... But not wanting to have to deal with another bout of tears, especially in the middle of the night, I joined her into her game.

"If you could think of Mommy coming back here right now, you'd be a magic-weaver..."

"A magic-weaver? With magical powers? Like Grandma?"

"Yes, like GrandMa Torogai!"

She frowned.

"Do you want to try?" I suggested.

"Do you know a magic spell for, Daddy?"

"Maybe? You have to repeat after me."

"Okay!"

"Ready?"

"Yes."

"'My mom is the most beautiful.'"

"My mom is the most beautiful..."

"'The strongest and the best.'"

"The strongest and the best."

"'Mom, I love for infinity. I will always love you.'"

"Mom, I love for infinity. I will always love you."

"You have to say it three times."

She repeated the incantation three times. This completely improvised and made-up spell was certainly not going to work, but if so...

"Thrice!" she exclaimed. "Mommy should appear now!"

I would like to believe it. If it didn't work, she'll be mad at me for telling her lies and won't believe me anymore. I loved her mother, I loved Balsa. I have often heard men saying that they no longer wanted to sleep next to their wives – after they'd given birth – because their bodies were different from the one before the arrival of their children. It was so cruel...

Balsa had no longer the same body. She still kept traces of her pregnancy despite her training. And I continued to love her. She'd given me one of the most precious things in my life.

The door suddenly opened...


Balsa

I arrived in the meadow. I was surprised to see, through the window, the light of a burning fireplace. I heard a voice that made me melt instantly, filling my chest with a comfortable warm. I opened the door.

"The spell! The spell worked!" our daughter exclaimed. "Mommy's there!"

"Balsa..." Tanda said, seeming under shock.

Our daughter fell into my arms, dropping her blanket. She began to cry her joy. But what spell was she talking about?

"Mommy!"

"I've never been so wrong in all my life," I said. "I've never missed someone so much... next time you'll come with me!"

"Yes! We'll go to Kanbal! We'll cross the Misty Blue Mountain of Aogiri!"

I sat up, our daughter still in my arms and looked at Tanda.

"I love my life right now, and I wouldn't change it for anything," I confessed. "I can settle down, as long as I still can travel from time to time, just like now. Our daughter is my whole life... and the very essence of my existence."

"Where did you learn all these words?" Tanda asked.

He was right. Where did I get these words from? It didn't sound like me. I didn't answer. My maternal side must have influenced my words and actions.

"We should never have to choose between work and family," I replied. "Tomorrow, let's go on a trip. Together in family."

"Yes!" our daughter exclaimed as I ruffled her hair.

"Sometimes, when our daughter was younger, I thought that I could die suddenly, in a fight or elsewhere. But I could never myself on the simple idea to leave her alone, without me... I need her. And I need you."

Tanda looked at me wordlessly, probably touched. Then I looked at my daughter, her gaze sparkling. The joy she radiated as she looked at me as if I were the most wonderful thing in her eyes made my heart melt.

"Mommy! How many languages do you speak?"

"Hum... four, including two main ones that I speak fluently."

"What are your main ones?"

"Yogoese, and Kanbalese. Then, there's the language of Rota and Sangal, but less than the two first."

"Teach me to write Kanbalese!" she begged me. "Please!"

"You're already fully bilingual, but indeed, writing Kanbalese could certainly help you, too."

I smiled.

"Of course, I'll need to search into my memory a bit to remember how to write it properly, but I can teach you the Yonsa dialect."

"Yes!"

"For now, you should go to return to bed."

"No."

"Sleep's important, especially at your age."

"It's not fun to sleep..." she pouted.

I laughed at her cute pout. I was still a warrior, with qualities and big flaws. But I was also less selfish, less taciturn and less stern. I was also more open, more emotional and sentimental.

We are often told that a child changes the entire life of parents. And it's true, I can confirm it. I love my child more than anything else. Before, I was just living for myself. It wasn't the fact that I wondered how I'd managed until now to live without my child. It was more about realizing how lucky and spoiled I was with life.

In the crook of my neck, in the warmth of my arms, my daughter finally fell asleep peacefully. So, just then, I put her to bed, and rocking her. I recited to her this beautiful little poem with Kanbalese origin that my own father and my own mother had so often hummed to me when I was still a child:

I'll love you forever,

I'll like you for always,

As long as I'm living

My baby you'll be.


*The poem at the end is inspired by the children book title "Love You Forever", written by Robert Munsch. Or in the French version, "Je t'aimerai toujours".