Nashuri Collection (Namor x Shuri)

History pt. 6

Normal mothers woke you up with a greeting. Some with a kiss. Some with food. But not Nakia, not his mother. She woke him up with pots and pans for him to help prepare breakfast and chided him to hurry up.

It was a lot of work just for the two of them.

Toussaint rubbed his eyes. The crust of sleep was still in one of them. He had managed to pull off his pajamas and put on a black and purple daishiki, jeans, and some sandals. It had been early dawn when his sleep was broken. His mother had been insistent they watch the sunrise. Nowhere else could compare to the beauty of an African sunrise.

He yawned. "Maman, what's with all the food? Who else is coming?" He brought the last of the bowls and plates to the table set out on their patio.

"I've invited your aunty and another guest for breakfast."

He shook his head. "Not hungry." He muttered.

"That's fine. You'll stay for the conversation."

His mother took him by the elbow, leading him to one of the four chairs.

"Mother, I've already messed up enough. You're torturing me."

She wiped the sleep out the corner of one of his eyes. "No, Tutu. You were right. We all need to communicate better, whether we choose to continue different relationships or not we need to say our piece. It's been a few days, so the fire has cooled."

Nakia promptly pushed a pitcher of cold water and a kettle of black tea to the center of the table near the food.

In the distance, a woman of average height was approaching their house. Her braids were bundled up into a top knot and the light caught her panther necklace.

His aunt was wearing a purple maxi dress and a sheepish smile.

"Morning, sister," she greeted his mother, hugging her. Then, she turned her gaze to him. Awkwardness in her voice but her face appeared confident.

She folded her hands together into a praying stance. "Toussaint, I want to apologize. I—"

"No Aunty, I know you said it out of anger, but you were right. You don't have to pretend." Toussaint had his arms underneath his chin on the table. He was showing a clear lack of table manners, but he didn't care. "We're more alike than I wanted to admit. You're lonely, so you've stayed close to me, and I just wanted to share my happiness. I'm selfish. I wanted you and Ku'uk—I mean Namor to become family, so mine could grow."

"Toussaint..."

"The real plan was to get some cousins. Guess that failed." He joked.

"Tutu, even so, I shouldn't have taken my frustration out on you. To say that about T'Challa was a low blow. He was your father, but he was my best friend and big brother. I forgot he means as much to you as me. Sometimes, we're so wrapped up in our own perspective we don't see someone else's."

His voice cracked, a blend of puberty woes and the emotional aftermath. "You don't hate me?"

"I never could." Aunty Shuri smiled. She took a seat at the table.

Nakia hummed, pulling out her chair beside her. "Toussaint had no right to meddle in your past relationship. But you turned my son into a ... a what is the word? How can I describe him? A goth? An emoooo?"

"A moody teenager?" Shuri offered, amused.

His mother gave a snap of her fingers, "Yes! All he wants to do is mope around all day. Wear black and speak of the unfairness of life and love. Apparently, he thinks we haven't lived before him and don't know of life's hardships."