#like gali pohatu and tahu hanging out around their villages more

[beesgav]

I like the idea of the Toa Mata being... around when needed, but for the most part just kinda going off and doing their own thing since they're not really beholden to any rules. It's a very special thing to actually see one of the Toa chilling out somewhere

[bumbledees]

what’s up everybody it has NOT been two years since i promised to write this fic! fuck yeah! i’m as surprised as anyone.

anyways this fic is a follow-up to “Maternity”, as requested by the lovely @ghost-mantis and based off of their adorable Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers post!

well, it was sort of requested? when people say they wish something existed i do my best to fulfill the space waiting for it. like a fairy godmother, but with self-indulgent fanfiction. actually this fanfiction is just as self-indulgent for me. so i’m my own fairy godmother, i guess. just take it from me, i don’t know what i’m talking about anymore.

Family

In which the Agori need a little help, the Matoran don’t mind chipping in, and the Toa are surprisingly good at this. It turns out when you’re coded to protect and defend smaller creatures who depend on you, it translates pretty well to babysitting. In some cases more so than others.

[The sequel to “Maternity”. The biomech community tries to help their new neighbors out.  Takanuva is supposed to write about it, but he doesn’t know where to start. Who better to ask for help than the Toa Nuva? Probably anyone, actually.

Featuring Taka never not being a chronicler, Lewa finally discovering what exhaustion feels like, and Pohatu’s permanent acquisition of a child. Also some lowkey pre-anything K/P and T/G, because [Ron Swanson voice] I can do what I want. You might as well count O/L in there too, because after reading currentlyunknown’s work I have a really hard time picturing them otherwise.

A BIG thank you to @outofgloom and their work with the Matoran language! According to their incredible PDF, ‘peki’ means shard, fragment, or pebble.]

“I’m dying, brothers. Don’t let them put me under the low-ground. Throw my body into the wind.” 

“You’re not dying,” Onua said, patting Lewa on the mask. The Air Toa was draped over the Earth Toa’s shoulders in a perfect imitation of the tiny Agori currently napping on Onua’s lap. “You’re just tired.” 

“It feels like dying.”

“This is how you make the rest of us feel all the time,” Kopaka said.

Onua frowned at him, but Lewa seemed too out of it to pay any attention to anything that wasn’t his own misery. 

Takanuva tapped the end of his carving tool on the slab he was working on. Turaga Whenua had forcibly recruited him to help with his new project, a museum on the history of the Matoran and the Agori, and put Takanuva in charge of ‘recording present events from a Toa’s perspective’. This meant what was happening in the settlements right now, as well as everything after what the Agori called the Time of Renewal, and Ackar called ‘I’m Not Getting Any More Rest, Ever’. 

“Let it be known,” Whenua had said proudly, “That we stepped in to help where we could.” 

Takanuva was happy to be writing again, but he had no clue what Whenua wanted him to write about. Matoran and Agori reporters were covering the gradual cultural intersection just fine on their own.

He’d thought hanging around the older half of the resident Toa population would provide some inspiration, but so far all the Toa Nuva were interested in doing was taking a well-earned break from settlement patrols and, oddly enough, babysitting. 

“I don’t know how the Matoran do it,” Lewa said. 

The Matoran had become the primary guardians of the baby Agori while their parents were working. On top of not replicating biologically, Matoran needed less food and less water than the Agori due to having fewer organic parts. This made them perfect candidates to watch young Agori while mothers and fathers farmed, hunted, or crafted. 

Most Matoran Takanuva knew had taken to the job with delight. After so long being protected under various teams of Toa, many of them relished being the protector, and basked in the adoration the young Agori gave them. 

This did not excuse the Toa from new Agori-related duties, as there was hardly a safer place to leave your child than with a trained warrior. Takanuva had seen the Toa’s reactions to this vary. 

“It’s easy,” Tahu told Lewa, waving a hand. “Just make up fake quests for them to go on.”

“Like what the Turaga did to us?” Lewa grumbled.

“That’s different,” Tahu said, but with wavering confidence. 

After his first, rather graphic brush with new life, Toa Tahu had been skittish for a while. Even now, babies were not his thing. However, he’d turned out to be fine with young children who could follow him on mini-adventures and look at him with blatant hero-worship. Privately, Taka was sure that several Agori were going to grow up with a disproportionate idea of what the Toa Nuva of Fire was capable of, but the children were happy and Takanuva had to admit that none of them received so much as a scratch when Tahu was around. 

“You shouldn’t be doing that all the time anyways,” Onua said.

Onua took to guardianship with pleased patience. He was the safe harbor children went to when they were scared or tired. Agori parents liked him because he always managed to teach his tiny companions a lesson they would have otherwise resisted. 

“You get them when they’re tired,” Lewa grumbled. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Agori parents also liked Lewa. The Air Toa was excitable and tended to lead his charges into mud and brambles, but he could entertain them for hours and leave them utterly worn out when they returned to their parents, who were then blessed with a sleepy, obedient child. This also left the Toa Nuva with a very tired Air Toa, which suited them equally well. 

“I’m with Onua on this,” Kopaka said. “You two are oversimplifying it.”

Kopaka was adored by the young Agori for a reason none of the Toa could quite figure out, including the Ice Toa himself. He wasn’t sharp or dismissive to the children who tagged along after him, but always looked a little bit out of his depth and as if he’d like someone to come and give him a break, please. Gali said it was teaching him humility and gentleness. Tahu said it was funny, and probably also karma.

“The children seem happy enough with them,” Gali said. “We are just babysitting.”

For her part, Gali was a wonderful guardian. She took her tiny charges to ponds and beaches, taught them about the water, and made sure they had time to nap and plenty to drink. On paper, she seemed to be the perfect parent, which was probably due to the fact that she had no interest in being one.

“They’re sweet,” she’d told Takanuva once, “But I’m always a little relieved when they go.” She preferred being able to connect on a more sophisticated level with her villagers, interacting with the children in passing or when their parents were around and she didn’t have to mother them.

Pohatu—currently absent from the group—was probably the most parent-like of all the Toa, when it came right down to it. He taught the Agori children Kolhi, didn’t let them eat too many sweets, and talked to them in a way none of the others could fully master—not like he talked to his Matoran, but not like one would talk to a Rahi pup, either. 

It probably came from Peki.

Orphans weren’t uncommon. Just because Bara Magna was safer now didn’t mean no one died. Some non-Agori couples, such as Hewkii and Macku, had taken to adopting parentless children into their lives, mimicking the Agori definition of ‘family’. 

Pohatu had no such prequalification for taking in Peki. She was a rock tribe Agori who had lost her parents to Bone Hunters in a violent way, and had fought anyone who tried to care for her afterwards like a small, traumatized feral cat. Shuttled from house to house, the main settlement had been at wits end of what to do with her when Pohatu had volunteered to watch her for a while, if only because it was harder for her to bite through his armor than through the Agori’s organic parts. 

Peki’s behavior had only gotten worse for a few weeks. She hid under furniture, screamed herself hoarse, and rebuffed every attempt at affection he offered her. He hadn’t given up, however, and slowly but surely, the tiny Agori began to trust him.

She followed him around chattering now, tugged him to the places she wanted to go, and sat on his shoulders for piggyback rides. She played well with other children, and didn’t start crying when people said hello to her anymore. If Pohatu had had any hesitations about becoming a full-time parent, it was too late; he’d been thoroughly adopted. 

The stone Toa, though, seemed as happy about it as Peki was. Tahu had remarked rather pointedly that it was probably because Pohatu had experience with tantrum-throwing, unaffectionate types, and that it was a pity Kopaka hadn’t turned out to be as sweet as Peki. Kopaka had flash-frozen his feet to the ground in response.

There was an incoming shriek that pulled Takanuva from his thoughts, and a small Agori was running pell-mell towards them, before hurtling itself at the Toa of Ice.   

Kopaka swung Peki up onto his shoulders with easy strength. He was a little more comfortable with Peki than with the other Agori children, probably due to the sheer amount of time he spent around her and her guardian.

“News from Turaga Onewa,” the Stone Toa in question said, arriving a few steps behind his charge. “There’s a group of settlers packing up and heading west.”

“How is that our business?” Tahu asked, blunt as ever. 

“Some Matoran are accompanying them,” Pohatu said, and all of the Toa turned to focus on him immediately. So far, the Matoran had stayed with their Toa and Turaga, not wandering any farther than the edge of the main settlement.

“From which villages?” Onua was already fretting. “Will they be all right? Who will protect them?”

“Maybe a Glatorian will go,” Tahu said, but he sounded just as worried. “Like Ackar.”

“If Ackar takes on anything else I think he’ll keel over,” Pohatu said. “And Kiina will just laugh at anyone who asked her. Anyways, it’s mainly ice tribe Agori and Ko-Matoran.”

“That’s a mixture,” Takanuva remarked. Unlike the Ko-Matoran, Ice Tribe Agori were a social bunch. 

“I think the idea is that they can balance each other out,” Pohatu said, but he looked as concerned as Takanuva felt.

“Maybe Kopaka will get shipped off with them,” Tahu said, and the gathering went quiet. Even the Fire Toa looked uncomfortable with his remark, but unsure of how to take it back. Despite their bickering, none of the Toa Nuva liked the idea of being away from each other for too long.

“I sincerely hope I do not,” Kopaka said at last, almost softly. 

Peki was waving happily to Takanuva over Kopaka’s shoulder, and Takanuva waved back, grateful for a distraction from the awkward silence. 

“Kohli,” Peki said. It was her favorite word, alongside ‘up’, ‘why’, and ‘no’. She turned to the Toa holding her. “C’mon, ’Paka, play!”

“Later,” the Ice Toa said, seeming to shake off the silence. “Pohatu, why didn’t Turaga Nuju tell me about this?”

“Too busy training a children’s birdspeak choir, probably,” Pohatu said, in an effort to lighten the mood. “I don’t know, Kopaka,” he amended when Kopaka frowned. “I don’t think the Turaga knew about it, either.”

“Our Matoran can make decisions on their own,” Gali said. “We knew that.”

“Yes,” Lewa said. “But they’re our Matoran. What will happen when they leave us?”

There was another silence, less awkward and more upset.

Onua sighed. “Things are changing.”

Lewa hid his face in Onua’s shoulder. “I don’t like it.”

“It’s unavoidable,” Onua said. “The present must become the past.”

Kopaka and Tahu rolled their eyes as one.

“I know I shouldn’t be worried,” Pohatu said. “But I am anyways.”

“Separation anxiety?” Takanuva offered. One of the Agori working at the museum had taught him the phrase. “Like when your child leaves the nest.”

“We don’t have nests, and the Matoran aren’t our children,” Tahu said matter-of-factly, and Takanuva wondered, not for the first time, how the Toa Nuva functioned as well as they did in Agori society.  

“You still care for them, though,” he said, instead. “We still care for them. Even though we know they can fend for themselves, we’re still worried.” He tapped his carving tool thoughtfully on the side of his mask. “I think we’re a little like parents that way.”

“There are some similarities,” Onua agreed. “But I think Pohatu’s the only one who truly bears that label.”

“Ice-brother, too,” Lewa said.

“Why me?” The Ice Toa asked, sounding offended. Peki stuck her fingers in his mouth, and he removed them automatically, unconscious of the motion.

“I’m going to let you long-think on that one,” Lewa said. He closed his eyes. “If we don’t have any more guard-walks today, I’m going to sleep.”

“Naps and babysitting,” Tahu said. “We’re becoming Agori. Next thing you know, one of us will get married.”

“Probably you and Gali,” Lewa said.

“I thought you were going to sleep,” Gali said, while Tahu made a noise like an embarrassed, vengeful teakettle. 

“Yes, I am. Sleep tight.” Lewa slid off of Onua’s shoulder, curling up behind the Earth Toa. “Don’t let the shield-bugs bite.”

“Goodnight,” Onua said.

“To be a true-fact, it would be ‘good afternoon’,” Lewa said.

“Do you need some assistance sleeping?” Kopaka asked. “Say, a fist to the mask?”

“Kopaka,” Pohatu said, in a tone that made Takanuva think that Tahu was right about the marriage thing.

“Oh,” Takanuva said, realizing what he needed to write about.

“What have you found, Chronicler?” Onua asked, and Lewa’s head reappeared over his shoulder.

“Present events from a Toa’s perspective,” Takanuva said.  “I know what Turaga Whenua wants me to write.”

“A story about fire-brother and water-sister’s upcoming marriage?” Lewa asked.

“Lewa,” Pohatu said. “Go to sleep.”

“Well, actually,” Takanuva began, and then backpedaled at the expressions on their faces. “Uhm, not that specifically! Just how things are changing. How we’re changing, as Toa, and how we’re staying the same.”

Peki had gotten bored of poking at Kopaka’s mask, and reached for Pohatu, who took her back with the same no-thought motion that Kopaka had used earlier. 

“I don’t think we’ve changed that much,” Onua said.

“That’s kind of my point,” Takanuva said.

“’Hatu,” Peki said, using her nickname for her guardian. “Play Kohli!”

“She’s definitely meant to be your child,” Gali said.

“All right,” Pohatu said, setting her down. “Who’s up for a match?”

“As long as I’m not playing against you,” Tahu said. 

“’Paka too,” Peki said, and Pohatu laughed. “You might not have a choice,” he said. 

“I’ll play with Lewa, then,” Tahu grumbled. 

“He’s asleep,” Onua said, checking on him.

“Are you serious?” 

“I’ll be on your team,” Gali told him fondly. “Takanuva, are you playing?” 

“Of course,” he said, getting to his feet. It had been too long since there had been a Kohli stick in his hand—or at least, one that hadn’t been transformed into a Toa tool. He knew what he was writing now, and could come back to it.

“Taka Taka Taka,” Peki chattered at him. “Up!” 

He picked her up and spun her around, making her laugh. Being a Toa wasn’t entirely translatable to parenthood—if a Toa had treated him as a Matoran the way they treated the Agori children, he would have been embarrassed and furious. It was hard to imagine any of the other Matoran he knew putting up with it, either. 

But it was also hard to imagine Matoran and Toa without each other. He hadn’t missed the hurt in Kopaka’s voice when he’d asked why Turaga Nuju hadn’t told him about some of his Matoran moving. 

“Okay, down,” Peki said, and took off for the Ice Toa the moment he set her on the ground. In a fashion that would have been utterly strange when they first arrived on Bara Magna, the grumpy Toa of Ice smiled to see her approaching.

Things were changing, things that had stayed the same for tens of thousands of years. In another ten thousand, who knew if there would still be Toa?

“The earth never takes what it does not give back,” Onua said, from where he was sitting among several sleeping Agori babies and one sleeping Air Toa. He was looking at Takanuva as if he could tell what Taka was thinking. “What we lose, we get in return.”

Takanuva watched Pohatu bounce a ball from one knee to the other, Peki clapping her hands in delight. The Stone Toa bounced the ball to Kopaka, who yelped and punched it with his fist in surprise. Tahu was cackling. Gali was trying hard not to laugh. 

“We’ve sort of got our own family, if you think about it,” Takanuva said.

“The more things change, the more things stay the same,” Onua said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll stay here and sleep.”

“Is that what you do while they’re all napping?” Takanuva asked, incredulous.

The Earth Toa simply smiled, and closed his eyes.

Shaking his head, Takanuva went to join the rest of his family in a game of Kohli.