The Abandoned Saint's Happy Feeding Life - Chapter 6

With occasional cries like “Hoo~” or “Fooa~!”, the toddler stayed calm.

Zen’ichi glanced sideways to confirm while grating apples.

No juice in this house—he was making something drinkable and nutritious for a toddler.

His phone screen showed a group chat titled “Young Wives Club.”

After consulting about the grime-covered toddler and wanting to bathe her, he was suddenly invited.

They said:

“Bath during the day is best. She’s basically a baby. Warm midday is recommended for bathing.”

So he decided to bathe her now.

“Check the child’s temperature—make sure it’s normal before putting her in.”

He used a non-contact thermometer—perfect.

“For kids, #1 is hydration, #2 is hydration! Be careful with fluids!”

Hence, the apples—he diligently made easy-to-drink juice.

“Lots of grime means thin skin—don’t scrub hard. Wash twice max. First removes oil, soak in bath, second rinses. Clean gradually over days.”

“Use the gauze towel we gave you!”

“But that much grime—she might not be used to baths.”

“True! She might fear it. Start with clothes on, let her explore the bathroom.”

“Clothes are a child’s armor—don’t force removal. If scared of water, hug tight, increase contact.”

“Bath hatred is trouble later—take it slow, just get her used to it.”

“Shower: start on feet/hands, teach safety.”

“Shampoo likely scary—wash head tilted back. Cover face with gauze, plug ears.”

“Face probably can’t be submerged—wipe patiently. No face wash.”

“Never take your eyes off in the bathroom! Kids are unpredictable!”

“20 minutes max, 30 absolute worst.”

Bathing a child required this much care?

Veteran moms’ warnings came like spring rain—eyes spinning.

Replying to one triggered more—no chance to speak.

He etched every note in his mind while silently working—pre-bath energy and hydration.

The toddler watched with sparkling eyes.

Expecting something delicious.

Oblivious to the full wash ahead—innocent.

Two pitchers brimming with apple juice.

Plus apples cooked with sugar and lemon juice for snacks.

Time for battle.

“A~…”

Zen’ichi started to call her—then realized he didn’t know her name.

He beckoned and asked.

“Na-me. Name. Understand?”

No—she shook her head furu furu.

What now?

After thinking, he tried his own name.

She was sharp—she might get it.

“Zen.”

Pointing at himself.

Technically Zen’ichi, but close people called him Zen—shorter for kids.

“Zen.”

She shook her head, troubled—he persisted.

“Zen.”

Confused, she mimicked.

Got it—he nodded big, then pointed at her.

She blinked—then grinned, realizing.

“Asha!!!”

Eyes sparkling, she pointed at herself and shouted happily.

Despite her dry, emaciated look, that smile shone.

Westerners really were expressive.

“Asha.”

She nodded proudly, full smile.

Body bouncing with joy—like a duck wagging its tail—adorable.

“Asha, open wide.”

Such a child deserved treats.

He offered stewed apple—she lunged without doubt.

Reminded him of elementary school rabbits gnawing cabbage cores.

She clutched her cheeks and hopped slightly with each bite—total rabbit.

Worth the effort when she loved it.

“No bath on a full stomach.”

He fed one, two pieces—then recalled the warning and stopped.

This was energy for the bath.

A full belly might skip the juice.

Regaining focus, he stirred the pitcher with a muddler, poured apple juice into a glass.

Ideally, a non-breakable cup—but this adult-only annex had only glasses and heavy mugs.

He planned to hold it—but the moment he showed the glass, Asha grabbed it with both hands.

He let go.

Apple lover—smelling it, she shook her head in delight, looking up.

Truly dramatic joy.

Ready to catch if dropped—she tilted the glass and drank.

(Does she… breathe?)

From tilt to finish—no pause—thin throat gulping.

He worried about forcing a stop—but she emptied it in one go.

“Aa…”

The glass no longer yielded a drop—she drooped sadly.

“Here, refill.”

Zen’ichi poured generously from the pitcher.

“Foooh!!”

Seeing it full again, Asha roared in triumph.

“Drink plenty.”

Watching her tilt it, Zen’ichi smiled.

She was so happy—but might cry during the full wash. He felt sorry.

Images of scrubbed, yelping dogs or hissing cats flashed—nerves rose.

For skin health, yes—but if she cried, he wasn’t sure he could continue.

She trusted him so much; the bath might make her hate him.

Above all, no experience bathing toddlers—doubt swelled.

He’d never even washed another person.

Dogs and cats—he’d seen videos. Toddlers? Never.

Only lifeline: Young Wives Club advice.

Don’t scare her.

Safety first.

If he caused bath phobia, she might live unclean forever.

(Just a bath… yet it could shape her whole life… toddler care is heavy pressure.)

Re-reading the chat, respect grew for moms who raised kids under this weight.

Oblivious to his tension—and happy—Asha finished the second glass.

“Good. Hydration done…”

Zen’ichi collected the empty, steeled himself.

Sooner the better.

He cleared his throat.

“Asha, ba-th.”

Of course—no understanding.

He mimed washing head and body.

She tilted her head, puzzled.

Given the grime, probably never bathed properly.

Show, don’t tell.

He took her hand, led to the bathroom.

“Ba-th. Bath.”

Set her glass beside towels and juice on the sink, pointed at the room.

Pushed the door, slightly nervous.

“Hoe~”

Sighing in awe, curiosity shining, Asha stepped in.

(Damn—lowest water level, but still too high?)

Auto-fill left more than expected.

Uneasy, Zen’ichi stripped off his tracksuit.

Likely to get soaked—wanted mobility.

“Hii!!!”

Asha, staring at the tub, let out a short scream.

“Zen wanya!! Gomyumii! Gomyumii niimi!!”

She jumped at him, terrified.

(Too much water…!! Should’ve filled manually…!!)

Regret—but done.

Half-undressed, he staggered but caught her.

Must recover.

“It’s okay, not scary. Let’s explore together.”

Words useless—but better than silence.

(More skin contact helps, they said.)

He lifted her, wrapped her fully, patted her back pon pon to soothe.

“Hii!!”

In the room, she clung tighter—clearly terrified of the tub.

(Today might just be about getting used to the bathroom.)

Rubbing her faintly trembling back, he muttered inwardly.

Never thought water volume mattered.

Sitting on the bath chair,

“Gomyumii meijigi! Zen wanya!!”

Asha pointed excitedly at the full-length mirror.

Happy about the mirror?

“That’s a mirror. Mi-rror.”

Teach words little by little, he thought—waved at mirror-Asha.

She stared at mirror-Zen.

Interest shifted—fear faded.

Asha slid off his knee, touched the mirror.

Peered closely, fascinated.

“Getting used to it… maybe?”

She turned, face blank.

Not scared—but absent, somehow.

Still—a chance.

“Clothes off? Arms up.”

Did “banzai” work? Or just copying? She raised arms obediently.

“Clothes are a child’s armor.”

He’d feared resistance—but none.

Relieved, he removed bottoms too, gently poured water on her feet.

Her daze worried him—but no fear—so he poured over her whole body.

Maybe baby body soap existed—only regular here.

Foamed the gauze towel, gently scrubbed her back.

(The foam! It’s vanishing!!)

Putu putu—foam disappeared on contact.

Foam on the towel gone before finishing her back.

“…”

Added more soap, tried again—no foam.

He couldn’t tell if the slipperiness was shampoo or grime—gently massaged while rinsing.

Occasionally scooped basin water to keep her body warm—wanted speed, but progress crawled.

(They said twice max—but what counts as one “time” anymore…?)

Kept kneading and rinsing until black water stopped—patiently waited for shampoo foam.

If foam appears, call it done for today.

That mindset—then Asha’s ear-plugging hand snagged his arm.

“Hm?”

Tired hands?—but her body went limp.

He caught her—regular kuka~ kuka~ snores from her mouth.

“Eh!? Sleeping!? No no!! Wake up!! Wake up!!”

Light shake—blissful face, fully asleep.

“W-What do I do…”

Completely relaxed—couldn’t even finish hair.

“She’s… sleeping, right? Not unconscious!?”

Gentle shake—eyes cracked, mumbled mii mii, closed again.

(No way—!? She just woke from morning nap! Slept all yesterday! And again!? Narcolepsy!?)

Worry or not—must finish.

Zen’ichi grabbed a bath towel from the sink, sat on the wet bath chair, laid Asha across his closed thighs, continued.

Draped towel for warmth, washed each part—cried over foamless soap, soaked head to toe, pushed on.

Asleep—she couldn’t regulate temperature—had to hurry, suppressed perfectionism.

Misery continued post-bath.

First—didn’t know how to dress toddler clothes.

Wide openings were good, but too many snaps—couldn’t match which to which.

And drying sleeping toddler’s head was impossible.

Tilted, lifted—hair not fully clean, tangled complexly, dryer air barely passed.

Finally dressed, headed to futon—saw it grime-covered, unusable.

Panicked, laid fresh futon.

Still daylight—might dry—so stripped covers from old futon and pillow, stuffed in washer.

Had been shedding soaked clothes—now naked.

Awful sight, he thought—chilled, slipped into the bath he’d saved for last to warm up.

(After bath—check Asha, prep lunch… freeze leftover juice before it browns… research narcolepsy… thank Young Wives Club… hang sheets… sneak to main house for ingredients while she sleeps? No—if she wakes alone, she’ll panic…)

So much to do.

With his brother—holidays meant lounging in tracksuits past noon.

This hustle—what was it?

(Caring for a toddler is insanely hard.)

Re-recognizing his burden, he splashed face hard to refocus, exited the bath.