Having Reincarnated a Million Times I Won’t Let My Guard Down Even in a Peaceful World - Having Reincarnated a Million Times I Won’t Let My Guard Down Even in a Peaceful World chapter 93

93: Your Name

After spending some time in the hospital, Milim came home.

The baby that was brought along was no longer as wrinkled as a newborn, and its eyes were open enough. It drooled while looking at me and Milim with a curious expression on its face.

Babies at this stage are seriously troublesome.

They eat, sleep, and excrete, that’s all they do.

And since their sleep schedule is not consistent, we were often awakened by the baby’s cries, and we were constantly busy trying to figure out if it was because of hunger or excretion.

The trouble was when the baby cried without being related to excretion or hunger. We worried that it might be sick or injured, and we consulted with our parents and went to the doctor, but we couldn’t find out anything. With so much anxiety, we couldn’t sleep–

We finally realized that “it was probably just hot,” and we collapsed in exhaustion.

When the baby was about a month old, its forearms started to become like marshmallows, and we would poke and play with the baby whenever we had free time.

The baby also smiled when it saw us, so it might have started recognizing us as its “parents” by now.

At this stage, the baby’s hands and feet flutter, but since ours are beastmen, our tails also flutter, and the ears on top of our heads twitch.

By the way, we also have ears on the sides of our faces, and those are our real “ears,” while the beast ears on top of our heads are “remnants of what used to be ears.” Apparently.

Beast ears are somewhat dull in sensation, but since they are a part of our bodies, it hurts when we bump them.

Since the baby would cry when its beast ears hit the crib, we had to modify the crib a little.

“There aren’t any beastmen around here, so my mom struggled too.”

In areas with many beastmen, there are products available for this, but they are not sold around here, and even online shopping has ridiculously high shipping fees, so it was difficult to get our hands on them.

Speaking of which, it seems that Milim’s mom also made the tail hole in her clothing by herself. I truly felt grateful for having honed my sewing skills.

My family is fortunate to be in a good environment.

Both Milim and I have parents who often help with childcare.

However, I still took parental leave. Apparently, babies start recognizing things around the age of two months, so I wanted to make sure that I let them know that I am their parent.

But babies are a target for many people.

Both my parents and Milim’s parents didn’t want to let go once they held the baby in their arms. Even my grandmother, or rather the great-grandmothers for this child, came over. Our house became quite chaotic for a while.

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And thus began the battle to claim the baby.

We fought. It was a battle for life.

As we fought, the days passed by in the blink of an eye.

Milim returned to work, and various incidents occurred, such as Karina almost kidnapping our child.

Amidst all this, someone decided that the winner of this battle for the baby would be the “first person called by the child.” It was an unspoken agreement.

Whether this child would say “Papa” or “Mama” or “Grandma” or “Grandpa” or “Karina”…

Well, if the child said “Karina” first, I would lose all confidence in getting along with this child, so I would be in a lot of trouble. But anyway, we desperately tried to make the baby call us by our names.

After the breastfeeding period passed and the baby started eating solid food, I returned to work and entrusted her to a daycare center.

There are many rivals at the daycare center. The teachers, the children who would be taking care of her… I was really anxious after leaving my daughter at the daycare center.

Because it was me who Milim called by name first. Back then, I was taking care of Milim… so there was a possibility that my daughter would call the name of the child who was taking care of her first.

I panicked. In my haste, I consulted with my students… “What should I do to make my daughter’s first word be ‘Papa’?” The students gave me their opinions. It seemed that kidnapping and keeping her hostage in a room alone was the most certain way.

On the day I was in charge of picking her up, I went to the daycare center to abduct my daughter.

It was an unusually hot spring day.

The temperature difference between day and night was significant, and my mother fell ill.

At the daycare center, which I used to attend, there were various babies and children, and I pushed through the crowd of children and picked up my daughter.

The child who was taking care of her suddenly shouted loudly.

“Hey! Hey! I threw the ball!”

It was a mysterious report. I often receive mysterious reports from children. So I asked about the color and shape of the ball and asked for their impressions of throwing it. The child expressed the size of the ball with gestures and compared the color to fruits.

I praised the child. Yes, that’s how you make reports specific… Even if it seems like an unnecessary mysterious report, by listening carefully in this way, you can understand what they want to convey.

The child wanted to report that they had fun and that the ball hit my daughter.

I checked my daughter’s body for any injuries. Then I said to the child, “Yes, she’s safe.”

Actually, I had already heard from the daycare teacher that there were no injuries and that the ball had hit her, but I purposely performed this act in response to the child’s report.

It’s better for an “action” to have a “reaction.” As an educator, I had developed a habit of responding to children’s “reports” when they reported something.

I cut off the child who was clinging to me and called out to my daughter.

Sarah.

When I called out their name, they, with their jet-black hair and jet-black eyes, looked at me with a vacant expression.

This child, who will soon turn one year old, has become quite active and now shows their own will through their actions.

Lately, they seem to have a preference for how they wear their pajamas. Even when I try to lift their arms to help them change, they increasingly express their refusal by saying, “No.”

For some reason, they like to bite my neck and often leave it all wet with their drool.

But now, without biting my neck, they are looking up at me as if they want to say something.

I had high expectations. The results of the battle for the first word from Sarah have not been determined yet. Will it be “Papa,” “Mama,” “Grandma,” or “Grandpa”?

This is the moment. It should be “Papa.”

It’s easy to pronounce. Alright, I won. Let’s go back and take a bath.

As I stare at their face, Sarah says,

“…Eh…”

Eh?

“…Eh-uh…”

Eh-uh?

“…Eh-uh!”

My daughter Sarah is pointing somewhere.

There, a girl who had come to report to me about the ball was present.

Her name is Elma.

“Eh-uh! Eh-uh!”

…No way, it can’t be true, right…?

Sarah, you can’t be…calling the name of the caretaker girl first…?

She’s a stranger…

I couldn’t hide my shock.

And for now, I pretended that this fact didn’t exist.

Ah, now that I think about it, I understand something.

When Millim first called my name, her parents must have had this indescribable feeling…