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Toussaint is a smart boy. Son of King T’Challa and Nakia, he knows that he’s away from his parents’ homeland for his safety. But he likes it here in Haiti, it’s where he goes to school with his friends, where he helps his Umama cook tasty dinners, where his Baba would read him bedtime stories.
His Baba read him so many stories before he joined the ancestral plane.
Toussaint remembers his father’s voice each time he reads the books. Sometimes it makes him sad, sometimes it makes him and his mama cry, but he’ll still read the books.
Now he has his Auntie read him books right before bedtime.
Toussaint loves his Auntie, he’s really happy that she’s staying here and he believes she’s happy to be here too.
But sometimes he sees her being sad.
He knows that it’s grief, Umama even told him that Auntie Shuri is still healing, but this little prince thinks there’s something else going on. It’s the way she stares at the ocean, like it’s a hard test question. That’s a big deal because Auntie is the smartest person he knows.
Also she has this green bracelet. She doesn’t wear it, only holds onto it when she thinks she’s alone.
It has become a routine. After dinner, Shuri would go sit at the beach, stare at the ocean with the bracelet, and finally return to carefully place the bracelet in a box under her bed.
Toussaint only knows this because he dropped one of his toys near it. He’s not snooping, of course not, his Umama taught him better. Then again, Umama also taught him to read people’s faces. Their actions and silences speak their true thoughts.
Toussaint reads that his Auntie is thinking about a certain someone, someone who messes with her happiness.
Lately though, a conch shell became a part of this routine.
Shuri now has been staying very late at night at the beach. Toussaint tried a few times to wait for her, at first worried if his aunt was alright, but then he saw something new.
Or should he say… someone new.
He tried to keep in his curiosity for a few days, cause this is totally a secret. Secrets are meant to be kept because that’s what they are. Also he believes his mother would freak out. Toussaint doesn’t want that.
But it’s safe to say that Toussaint is a bit freaked out and excited considering what he saw.
“Auntie, who’s your ocean man?”
Toussaint is tucked into his bed, Shuri sitting with him and ready to tell a bedtime story but that is not on the menu tonight.
Shuri blinks at him, stunned for a few seconds before asking, “My what?”
“The man who walks out of the ocean. You always meet him at night.”
Her eyes flicker to his window, to the ocean, her ocean man.
Shuri sighs and wraps an arm around his shoulders, “Toussaint, have you been up past your bedtime? And why follow me out to the beach?”
The little boy shrugs because he is a little boy.
“I was curious,” he said, pronouncing the word carefully, like his mama taught him to whenever he wanted to use big words. “You said curious is a good thing.”
“Curiosity,” Shuri corrected him. She lays her head against his, “and I did, didn’t I?”
Because their heads are leaning on each other, Toussaint couldn’t nod properly. So he hummed an ‘uh-huh.’
“I… He’s just someone I need to talk to.”
Toussaint presses his lips together, not liking the hesitation in her voice. “But he makes you sad?”
“He makes me very confused. He’s also very dangerous.” Shuri squeezes him tight, how he would hug his toy when he was scared. “I shouldn’t have brought him here. I’m so sorry Toussaint. I promise I will never call him with that stupid shell again.”
What?
Toussaint practically jumps out of the hug, his knees bouncing on the blanket but Shuri’s hands are on his shoulders trying to settle him. It doesn’t work because the little boy is frantically shaking his head.
“What? No, wait. But Auntie, you don’t have to do that!”
Shuri looks him straight in the eyes, her sadness doubles but there are no tears. It’s like Toussaint is staring at a kid who gave up the last piece of cake to a younger sibling. A kind act but the price is their own happiness.
“For you, I do.”
There’s no storytime tonight, Shuri cuddles with her nephew until she believes he’s asleep. It took longer than usual because Toussaint actually did fall asleep for a bit, woke up to see if she’s still there (she was), until finally Shuri left for her own room.
He turns on his side to face the window.
The breeze from the ocean feels lonely.
Toussaint can’t help but think he made things worse.
True to her word, Shuri does not call her ocean man for the next few days. He tried to talk out of it but it’s like telling a cat to get out of a tree.
She repeats that it’s about his safety, but clearly Shuri must have trusted the ocean man to even begin having secret light night talks with. She convinces herself that this is better, as if she is not aware of her longing. Toussaint has counted the many times she stares at the ocean. He points it out to her and still his auntie does not break her promise.
She keeps smiling, she reassures that she loves him, but Toussaint feels nothing but guilt.
This wouldn’t happen if he just stopped being curious, if he didn’t have the urge to help someone he loves.
This is hard. He’s not good at this. His Baba would know the right words. Why can’t Toussaint be more like his father?
These thoughts stormed within the little boy and there is only one person he turns to when he’s sad.
“Umama! I made Auntie sadder!”
He practically threw himself at his mom when she came home. It wasn’t enough to knock her unsteady, of course, Umama is strong. So he clutches on to her skirt, burying his face against her stomach like back when he was small… er.
“What? No baby, no.” She cradles his head, the softest touch he has ever known. “You don’t make her sad at all.”
“But I did,” Toussaint tells her, frustrated tears welling up. “Every time I talk to her, she just says she’s better but I know she’s not. She’s believing her own lies.”
Nakia kneels down, still holding onto his face. One thumb dabs at his wet eye. She levels him with one of her teacher faces, radiating patience and twice the kindness.
“Your Auntie Shuri has been through much sadness in the past years but you Toussaint? You, T’Challa, are not a source of that sadness, never.”
“But,” he continues helplessly, “she’s sadder because she’s trying to keep me safe.”
Something flashes in his mother’s eyes. Her hands squeeze down on his shoulders, “What happened Toussaint? Are you in trouble?”
Her voice is no longer a kind teacher, but a serious teacher. Toussaint only sees this side of her when Nakia is very, very serious. Like when his grandma asked Nakia for her help.
Toussaint shakes his head, “No, no, I’m not in trouble.”
Now she loses the seriousness but she’s still confused like how adults are when children are making sense. “Toussaint, what is going on?”
“I tried talking to her about something.” Toussaint begins, but he wants to keep the ocean man a secret. “She’s sad about this but now she’s sadder without it. I can’t change her mind.”
Nakia tilts her head, “You don’t want to tell me what this is about?” He shakes his head, a hint of guilt in his face. With a little sigh, Nakia accepts it and kisses his forehead, “Alright, baby, I’ll talk to her. As for you? No more sad eyes, my heart can’t take one second more. Okay?”
“Okay Umama.”
His mama knows what to do, Toussaint believes this. Shuri wouldn’t really talk to him, he’s just a kid in her eyes. Someone who can’t help her. Sending his mom is the best he can do.
A small part of him wonders if he’ll ever be helpful and reliable like his mom… like his dad.
So his curiosity and worry encourages him to move through the small house. He hears them on the front porch. Carefully, Toussaint sneaks under the window sill and listens in.
“Now Shuri, what’s going on? You and Toussaint are both mopping without me. I feel left out.”
That lightheartedness is instantly met with the sadness that is Toussaint’s aunt.
“It’s all my fault.”
“Ay, that’s basically what he told me. He’s worried about you and so am I.”
“No, no, I’m so sorry Nakia. I shouldn’t have done this in the first place.”
“Enough of the word games, it’s like you two are trying to sneak around a master spy, something you both know not to do.”
In his hiding spot, Toussaint shrinks. He remains though, he doesn’t make any move to leave. He’s in too deep. A step of retreat would definitely be heard by his mother.
Shuri breaks the silence, admitting with a strain, “I… I’ve been talking with Namor.”
“Oh Shuri-”
“I know!” The sudden loudness shocks everyone. Toussaint shivers at the intensity. Only after a few more seconds does she continue, “I don’t know… Nakia, I thought I knew how it was going to happen. I thought that it would just be one conversation but… I kept the conch shell. I kept calling for him.”
His mom is quiet for a bit, taking her time to form her words. “It’s good that you talked to someone and I’m not asking why it’s him of all people.”
The reassuring words don’t work like Toussaint thought it would.
Shuri is still trapped in guilt, “Usisi, I’m so sorry.”
“Shh, hey.” There’s some shuffling but Toussaint knows how his mom loves to hug people who need comfort. “This house has already seen a lifetime of tears, it can take a few more but you have to talk to me.”
Unlike how Shuri was to Toussaint, she opens up.
“I know a piece of grief will never leave me. I… I have accepted that. But sometimes it returns and I can only hate myself for taking space in the universe.” Her voice is shaky and Toussaint’s own breath reflects that. This is what Shuri didn’t want to tell him. This frustration and anger that adults try to protect kids from. “I just felt like the worst parts of me and I wanted to justify it by lashing out on Namor. So I called him, I yelled at him, and… and he let me hate him and be hateful and somehow-” a laugh interrupts her, but it doesn’t sound happy. “Somehow we ended up just talking like we were always friends. Again and again. Like we never hurt each other. I hate how simple it all is when it isn’t, Nakia.”
Toussaint can’t think of anything after hearing all that. He just feels sad and scared, like the small child he is. His family has been through many hardships and he can only sit and listen.
Thankfully his mom is able to defeat the silence.
“I’m not happy that the fish man visits my home but it sounds like you needed this. He may be too close for my comfort and Toussaint’s safety but I trust you. You’re strong and smart and I know you. It’s good that you’re talking with someone.”
“But I feel so stupid around him.” Shuri speaks gentler, a confession she reluctantly gives to the air. “I shouldn’t be talking with him in the first place but I like our nights together.”
“Hm, I like our nights together .” Nakia clicks her tongue, “I haven’t seen you like this since your last crush.”
It gets quiet again, this time the tension is less strained.
“...Why him?” The words are muffled, likely with Shuri shuffling close into Nakia’s arms.
“I can’t answer that for you, Shuri.”
Toussaint instinctively knows the answer can only come out from either Shuri or the ocean man, this Namor.
“He once told me things could’ve been different. I don’t believe that this is what he meant. I got too comfortable with him and now Toussaint found out. Calls him ocean man like how M’Baku calls him fish man.”
Fish man?
He must have gills to live in the ocean, Toussaint thinks.
“...So Toussaint knows of him.”
“I promise Namor doesn’t know about him and now he never will because I promised Toussaint I will never bring him here again.”
“Oh Shuri. You’re wearing yourself down. This is worse than when you lock yourself in your lab. You didn’t have to make such a promise.”
“But I have too! I should’ve never brought him here. You should be more angry at me, not hugging me.”
“I’m not angry at you, nor Toussaint for keeping this a secret. I am unhappy at seeing how this is making you all sad. You say you’ll stop seeing Namor for my son’s sake? I think you needed a safetynet to back out of your feelings.”
Shuri huffs, “Safetynet?”
“You needed a reason, something to be scared of to finally stop seeing Namor.” Nakia explains. “Yet you still want to call him.”
“I hate him,” Shuri says easily but her next words become difficult to speak. “I hate how much I think of him, not as my enemy but just as Namor. I shouldn’t want him at all. Not after everything.”
“But you do. You have wanted not Namor but someone to talk with. Someone who listens and all the other reasons why you would want someone. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling, all that anger mixed with its opposite. I can’t be mad at you if you’re so mad at yourself.”
Almost quietly, Shuri complains, “You are Toussaint, both of you are too kind.”
“Only for those we love, Shuri.”
Nakia lets them all rest from the emotional storm, comforting Shuri with an easy silence.
Until Nakia muses out loud, “How about I get you out of your head for the night, okay?”
A girls’ night, Nakia decides.
Shuri tries to protest but by dinner time, Toussaint practically pushes Shuri out of the door.
Okay so his mom’s really the one who convinces Shuri to relax. She gets Toussaint’s usual babysitter too, someone he knows who trusts that Toussaint remains in his room for bedtime.
Yet Toussaint believes he can still help his auntie.
The night is far from over.
He finds it easily. Under Shuir’s bed is a box with a conch shell, a green bracelet, and kimoyo beads. That last thing is the most unusual in Toussaint’s opinion.
It’s Shuri’s own creation, her tool for literally everything. There must be something important on it relating to Namor and the shell.
With a few taps and a little hello from Griot the AI, Toussaint finds what’s basically a diary archived into it.
That’s too personal for Toussaint's eyes, so he quickly scans for the instructions he needs.
Finally, he grabs the conch shell and heads to the beach.
His heart beats with every trudge into the cold sand, all the way til the water is around his bare feet and the moon crowns his head.
Toussaint stares at the ocean, clutching tight onto Shuri’s beloved conch shell. He’s seen this only from a distance. A blurred image at best of her waiting at where water becomes the light of the night.
The little boy raised the shell to his lips.
Wait… was it… say his name first and then blow the shell or the other way around?
Toussaint rushed this little mission to recall the order exactly.
So he shrugs and tries it out regardless.
“Namor.”
Toussaint blows into the conch shell. No sound pierces the air.
He digs his feet into the wet sand. A shiver runs up and down his spine. He grits through the chill.
He should have everything. The shell, the ocean, and the name.
“Namor!”
This is a fairytale, this should work. Like the bedtime stories of Wakanda. As fantastical as they all sounded, they were real.
“Please Namor,” Toussaint pleaded to the ocean. He blows into the shell again. “I need to talk to you.”
Only silence talks back to him.
The cold gets stronger with each pull of the ocean. It trembles his knees, numbs his toes.
All Toussaint feels is shame.
Is it because he’s too young? Did he not believe enough?
Or…
Namor doesn’t want to talk to him. He accepts Shuri’s silence and with it, refuses Toussaint.
The idea, this realization, stuns Toussaint. He feels colder and wet, only now realizing that he’s sitting in the water.
In his defeat, Toussaint drops the shell in his lap, where the ocean wades around him. Here, he feels worlds away from any form of warmth that he knows.
He feels like a stupid little boy.
Probably because he is one.
He just wanted to help his auntie, someone he loves.
Why can’t he be like his mom?
Like his dad?
Is it because he wasn’t raised in Wakanda?
No that can’t be it but what if?
What if he is not good enough, not smart or kind enough to be like his parents.
Does Toussaint deserve the name T’Challa?
This little boy, born from a good king and a good spy, nephew of the Blank Panther, cannot answer the questions his sadness and frustrations throw at him.
Maybe this is the pain Shuri is going through, the insecurity in every action you take in life while someone you love cannot.
No, forget the dramatics!
Toussaint is just a dumb kid, sitting in the cold water soaking through his pajamas.
This is too much shame and sadness to happen in the sheer chill of the night. He’s moments away from just throwing the shell into the ocean and running back home.
That’s when Toussaint sees it, sees him.
A splash of water in the still ocean becomes this man Toussaint has only seen glimpses of. The moon shines down on the incoming shape of what should be normal person but is not.
He’s tall.
He has pointy ears.
He’s wearing green shorty shorts, a golden collar, and a white cloak clinging to his shoulders.
And he doesn’t look happy to see Toussaint.
Namor wades through the water with ease, the chilling night does absolutely nothing to him.
The moment he is in front of Toussaint, the ocean is too still and too quiet. The only ripples come from the boy’s shivering.
“You summoned me.” His voice is authoritarian, but what surprises Toussaint is how the next words are warm. “Only the shell needed to be in the water, not yourself.”
“Oh,” Toussaint lips tremble around the noise. He urges his shaking and soaked body to stand, nearly scrambling to leave the ocean.
His numbed leg muscles fail him, too weak to support any sort of balance. Toussaint would have fallen into where the ocean kicks the sand if not for a sturdy and warm hand on his shoulder.
Namor eases Toussaint up as they trudge through the wet sand and up the dunes.
“That conch shell does not belong to you.”
The lecturing tone is familiar, something all students know, but Toussaint can easily shrug it off.
“It was in my house.”
“…you are Shuri’s?” Namor spoke like his throat was dry which doesn’t make sense. He just came out of the ocean.
“She’s my auntie.”
“Oh.”
Toussaint can’t help the wrinkle around his nose, almost laughing at Namor. Fish man indeed, nothing to be afraid of.
The boy leads them to the logs around the ashy fire pit. It seemed like the right thing to do, copying what Shuri does. A sanctuary between the house and the ocean, two places that have captured his aunt’s attention.
Namor follows an unspoken courtesy, removing his cloak in favor of Toussaint’s cold shoulders. He immediately clutches onto the cloth, surprisingly dry, and watches Namor kneel at the firepit.
The fishman easily finds the flint and grates it on tinder. Normally Toussaint would find this all too suspicious, how natural Namor is acting but the little boy eagerly shuffles closer to the growing fire.
“Don’t get too close, little one,” Namor warns.
He had a hand out ready to urge Toussaint away but retreats that act of protection. The man takes his seat beside the boy. Sitting here, Namor is still towering above Toussaint, yet the arch in his neck, bowing down with the weight of something invisible.
It’s near perfectly the same sadness Shuri is strained with.
“Why have you called me?”
“Auntie Shuri’s really sad.” Toussaint lays it all out to the fishman. “She thinks she needs to stop seeing you to protect me. But it’s all just making her sad and I can’t bear it any longer.”
Namor stays quiet, long enough for the fire to rise and char the wood. Toussaint finally stopped shivering, the cloak absorbing the heat. He recognizes the vibranium woven in. This fishman has shiny scales.
“There is merit in her fears.” Namor looks over to the house. “I have already been pushing her trust in me by answering all her previous calls. I knew that one day she’ll find her reason, and renew her anger at me.”
And just as Toussaint thought, Namor shifts his gaze onto him.
It just stacks onto all those swelling feelings that've been trapped in his heart.
A spark pops out of the fire, in time when Toussaint curls into himself and snaps out.
“But I don’t wanna be her reason! And she’s not angry. Well she is but mostly she’s really, really sad. She says this is all to protect me,” he points at Namor, “from you.”
Namor is immediately at his side, guiding Toussaint to lean away from the fire.
“Shuri only wants to protect you, not upset you.”
“She doesn’t need to,” Toussaint reasons. “You’re not here to hurt me or my family. So everything should be okay but it’s not.” The fire continues its small bursts of light, the heat fighting against the cold air. “My auntie and Umama and Baba, they have done so much for me. They do it out of love and I love them for it. But not when it hurts them. I hate that I’m the reason, that I’m the problem.”
“Ay, that’s nonsense, boy.” Namor is quick to reassure. “Shuri never once spoke about you but she doesn’t need to. It’s clear as the stars and the sea, she loves you.”
Toussaint stares right at him, “And it’s clear as the sun and the earth that she misses you.”
Namor shakes his head, “My presence would only worsen her.”
Bah! These sad, sad adults! With so many assumptions tied down with fears.
Toussaint recalls the notes he skimmed. It was factual but with certain opinions.
“She likes your butt and fancy hair. I know, I read her diary.”
Instinctively, Namor brushes at the stray strands around his pointy ear. “She thinks it’s fancy?”
“Yup.”
Namor allows the smallest of smiles in the firelight but it is gone in the next flicker of shadow.
“I’m afraid that is all she’ll like about me. Her reason to dislike me is a far greater list,”
“But she called you. She kept calling you.”
“I barely understand why she decided that. After everything, I truly believed that she would never see me as…” His voice gives into his fears. He states with sorrow, “I have hurt her.”
Toussaint frowns, “Did you say you’re sorry?”
“No I did not.”
“Then you should.”
“It is not as simple as that.”
Toussaint huffs silently. Sometimes it is very hard to reason with sad adults. He can’t exactly match their maturity but he doesn’t need to.
“Bah!” He exclaims with his mother’s words, “Excuses!”
“I do not appreciate a lecture from a child, boy.” Namor glares at the fire, choosing not to meet Toussaint’s eyes.
“Yet it sounds like it.” He countered, “One time my friend was teaching me a dance. He accidentally stomped on my foot. He did apologize but I was still in pain. His words did not help me. Only later did the pain fade and then I remembered his worries. I knew he was to be forgiven.”
This is a lesson he learned all by himself.
The lapping waves is all the boy hears before Namor admits, “You are very wise, nephew of Shuri.”
It feels like the sun dawned inside of Toussaint, a giddy smile on his face. It’s really a simple compliment but it means a lot to him.
“And you are wise to listen, Namor.”
The fish man makes a noise of irritation and murmurs to himself, “Truly a nephew of Shuri.”
Toussaint nudged his elbow at him, “I heard that.”
Namor looks down at him, a smile as soft as the sand.
“I must prepare an apology. Thank you very much, child. You have given me much to think about.”
“You’re welcome ocean man.”
He shakes his head with a small huff. “You may call me K’uk’uklan.”
“K’uk’uklan,” the child pronouns slowly. He tries it again and once satisfied he grins, “I am Toussaint, son of Nakia.”
“...and King T’Challa, I presume?” Toussaint nods. “Your aunt told me about him. You are already much like your father.”
The first time this evening, Toussaint is speechless.
“But I also see much of Shuri in you as well.”
“Like what?”
“Your wits and sass, firstmost,” Namor said dryly but continued in a nicer tone, “but also kindness. Something I will always be surprised by.”
Toussaint pats the man’s arm because that is really sad.
“Is this also a grown up thing? Being sad?” He asks, once again confused by the adults around him, but also a little bit scared.
Namor can only give him a sad smile, “I’m afraid so, child. Sadness is like an ocean, easy to drown in and harder to get out of.”
“So you have to be a good swimmer,” Toussaint answers confidently.
That gets the man to laugh, ungraceful and loud. “Yes, indeed. No matter how strong the currents are, it is possible to reach land. To become happy again.” Namor gives one final pat on the boy’s shoulder. “You should go to bed now, Toussaint. I don’t believe I should keep you from sleeping any longer.”
Tonight feels like a fairytale. A man from the ocean sharing a fire with a prince of a faraway land.
This boy knows how real these stories can be.
He knows this will end a happy story.
With a farewell, Toussaint trudges up the sand all the way back to his bedroom. The smell of the sea clings onto him.
It’s rare for Toussaint to stay up so late. His mind overcomes with exhaustion and equally a relief to know that things may change for his family.
But he can fall asleep with one assurance.
Namor waits throughout the sunrise for Shuri.
Toussaint knows this to be true when he wakes up, the sun in the sky and he sees two figures down at the beach.
He can’t help but smile. It stays on his face all the way throughout the day.
“Toussaint,” his mama’s lecturing tone doesn’t even phase him, “I know what you did.”
“I helped auntie and the ocean man.”
Nakia can only embrace her son, charmed by her kind boy. “Yes, you did. I still won’t permit him in my house. The beach is as far as he’ll go.”
Well, Toussaint couldn’t perform miracles but it’s alright. He eagerly waits for Shuri though. For hours, all Shuri gives him is a knowing look. She finally talks to him in the evening, tucking him into bed.
He’s back in his pajamas but the cloak he kept is on the foot of his bed. Shuri reaches over to it, wraps it around their shoulders. Toussaint is snug against her side, blinking innocently at his auntie.
Shuri fondly scratches his head, “Little T’Challa, what are you doing? Messing with my life?”
Of course.
Because T’Challa will always look after Shuri.
“I just wanted you to be happy, Auntie. Are you happy?”
“Yes and no.” The boy pouted at that so Shuri explained, “There are still many things I have to deal with. This is what being an adult is like.”
Toussaint shakes his head, “I don’t like that. I don’t want to be an adult.”
“Me neither but that is how life works. You grow up and unexpected things can happen.” She hugs him tighter, “I never thought I would meet someone like you, Toussaint.”
“Like me?”
“Someone kind and who wants to help. You’re a little bit stubborn about it but
I’m lucky that you’re my nephew.” Shuri leans her head on top of his. “Someone who, if so desired and worked for it, can become the next Blank Panther.”
“Really?” He asked quietly, stunned.
His hand reached over into her hand, so small in her palm. Toussaint can’t imagine the day when he grows up to be taller than her. Maybe he’ll be taller than K’uk’uklan.
“But for now, you’re my nephew.”
At some point in the night, Toussaint wakes up.
He peers through his window and smiles.
Down at the beach, a fireplace glows between a god from the ocean and a panther of Wakanda.