Notes:

I actually haven't been able to find myths where Tāne and Maui interact directly, at least in Maori mythology. It's just an assumption that they would get along, since the Maui in the myths hangs out with birds a lot. Tāne's appearance is a bit of a liberty as well, not sure if that needs saying. Various depictions I've seen of him just have him huge and imposing but wise, and that's about it. I just thought the birds would be a fun touch and a bit of a reference to his brother Rehua, who kept birds in his hair and gave him birds and trees to bring down to earth in the first place.

She's staring.

That's … new.

Impossible cliff, crab monster, lava demon, actual goddess—oh, that's all fine, she just rolls with it like she deals with that stuff before she combs her hair in the morning. But go a couple ranks above the Mother Island and suddenly she's tongue-tied and stumbling, filled with a fear of gods Maui's younger self would've loved to just bask in. She's in awe. No other way to describe it. And of his human form, of all things!

There is a small, petty part of him that wonders if he could show up to moderate their next fight.

Tāne-matua, understanding as always, gives her a moment to process his presence. He's not offended. Far from it. From the looks of things he might even find it cute.

"They do stare so, don't they? Even when we lived among them, they stared," he says, examining Moana like he would the quality of moss on one of his trees or feathers on one of his birds. "However were you able to demand this much awe of the mortals, Maui? I'm trying not to blush."

And there's that pang again, that sinking bitterness in his gut he finally got a bit of a break from. He did want this, didn't he, an eternity ago. He needed this from so many people, so many villages, the awe and praise and deference. But now, the thought of it, especially coming from her …

Moana blinks like she's waking from a dream.

"Sorry!" she says, startling before forcing herself into a more measured, dignified bearing Maui guesses she probably picked up from her father. "I mean, I'm sorry, Tāne-matua, God of Forests and Birds, Creator of Humanity. I apologise. I was, um, I was startled. Please forgive me my manners."

The god's eyebrows lift almost imperceptibly before he lowers his gaze to see her better.

"There is nothing to apologise for, Moana. This is all quite normal," he smiles, and then adds, "I assume. It's been some time since I've appeared to a mortal. You, however, made quite the impression. My forests and birds now grace the Mother Island once more, and my creation is safe from the darkness. I wanted to be the first after Te Fiti to give my thanks."

Impossibly, her huge brown eyes find a way to get even bigger. "I … I'm honoured?" she says. "I mean, I'm honoured. Wait, the first?"

"My child," he says, "I think it's safe to say that we've all heard of you by now. You saved Te Fiti. Word gets around."

She swallows. "We meaning the gods. As in, all the gods. The gods know who I am."

He shares a look with Maui, his head cocked, before he turns his gaze back at her.

"For now," he says, and continues like it's a reassurance, "but it won't be long until your name spreads throughout the mortal world, as well."

If he notices her stiffer posture and that look of something dawning on her, he doesn't show it. Instead he gestures one of his massive hands towards her, as if presenting her to an invisible audience. "Moana of Motunui, Master Wayfinder, Hero to All," he says, and Maui could swear he almost sounds … proud. "It has a nice ring to it, wouldn't you say? One for the songs and legends."

"But Hero to All," she says, "that's Maui's title."

"Yet that's what you are, as well." Tāne-matua eyes her quizzically before he's back to implacable calm. "Moana. It was you who retrieved the hook. It was you who restored the Heart. It was you who saved the world. The title is nothing if not deserved. Maui can always share. Memory fails me but he might have done it before."

Maui steps in. "Guessing you didn't come here for autographs, though."

The corners of his mouth twitch upwards. "No indeed," he says, and he dismisses the birds with a gentle wave of his hand. "To business, then."

Maui nudges Moana and smirks like she's not just meeting a god she probably actually prays to. "Gods," he says. "I mean, yeesh, get to the point, am I right?"

But it's not bringing the conspiratorial smile and sarcastic quip he expected. He frowns, and something twists in his stomach as he watches her look back at him like she's finally seeing him through clear eyes.

"Moana of Motunui," Tāne-matua says, "your actions have not gone unnoticed by the gods. We've been talking, and we would like to make an offer of a gift."

Maui blinks. "Wait, that's it? No quest, no mission, you come out of hiding to give her a present?"

He nods.

Oh. Okay, this was new. And he'd be lying if he said he didn't let out a little sigh of relief at this not being more serious.

"A gift?" she says. "Oh, Tāne-matua, I—I only wanted to save my village, I didn't do this for any reward. Besides, Te Fiti rebuilt my boat. I thought that was it."

Maui shakes his head. Millennia of mortals risking their own lives just to speak to a god, let alone get a favour, and she's refusing after one of the big guns comes to her.

"Maybe hear him out, Curly," Maui says. "Didn't you say it would be rude to refuse a gift from the gods?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"Relax, Tāne's okay, it might be fun!" he says, giving his hook a quick twirl before he leans on it in what he hopes is a confident, relaxed pose. "Eh? Weapon? Or since it's birdie over here, I dunno, chickens? More trees to build boats with? Or, what, fruit trees? Tāne's fruit trees are the best, Mo, those were his first trees and he's just been tinkering with the recipe ever since. It's, like, artisanal now, the stuff he can do."

Tāne-matua suppresses a smirk. "You flatter me, demigod."

"Not flattery if it's true," he says.

The god chuckles.

"So, what's she getting?" Maui says. "Trees? Birds? Wait, knowledge? Tāne, if you got those birds hiding the Basket of Pursuit behind you, I swear—"

"You're forgetting a title," Tāne-matua says.

"Well, yeah," Maui says, "We'd be here all day if I tried to list them all."

And now it's Moana's turn to step in. "Tāne the Parent?" she says, just kind of throwing it out there, but sounding like she's piecing together something. "We haven't touched the parental titles yet. Tāne-matua—Tāne the Parent—created the first human. He formed a person out of earth and breathed life into it, and that's how mortals came to be."

"You were taught well," he smiles. "Your grandfather?"

"Grandmother," she says, and he could swear she's actually starting to not look like she was about to just keel over. "Lots of late nights memorising all the stories and family trees."

He nods. "You do her proud, my child," he says. "Yes, that is the relevant title right now."

It is?

He looks down at Mini Maui, who doesn't get it, either.

"Uh, how?" Maui says. "She's already here."

But he doesn't answer. Instead he's up to his full height now, strong and gentle and inscrutable in his expression.

"Moana of Motunui, Master Wayfinder, Hero to All," he says, and Maui can almost feel the words resounding in his bones, "you saved the Mother Island and by extension, the world. We gods would have precious little in our domains without your help, and we feel you are worthy of this gift, whether or not you accept it."

Moana swallows before she forces her back to straighten and her eyes to face down. "And what is this gift, Tāne-matua, God of Forests and Birds, Creator of Humanity?"

"We ask if you would like to accept the breath of life, and become a demigoddess."

And damned if Maui doesn't regret his earlier comment about gods needing to get to the point.

Moana is still standing, which is a small consolation. There's a little sway but after a couple seconds there's no more risk of her just passing out here. She swallows, and puts her weight on her feet and her pride in her shoulders, and Maui begins to see the return of the girl who stood up to a lava demon and won.

She forces her gaze upwards, and her voice comes out small.

"A demigoddess?"

"Yes," Tāne-matua says. "You did what you did without thought of yourself. You have a greatness in you that can carry you through the generations. And not to mention, you bring out the best in our Maui. We raised him. He's a bit of a soft spot. With you two working side by side, the mortals would have twice as many stories to study."

"I … "

"You would live far beyond what a mortal lifespan can bring, of course," he says. "There will be no disease, no growing old, and barely any need to eat or sleep. You will have powers beyond what you could achieve as you are, be adored and looked up to by countless more people than the ones you will reach as a mortal. It is a gift we do not grant lightly, though one we have given for less."

She retreats somewhere into herself as she considers, the occasional glimpse up at Maui and a look of questioning in her eyes.

"It won't hurt," he says, though Maui doubts that's the question she seems to be asking herself right now. "I believe you mortals would think of it as like a hongi."

But she's not listening, just frowning at nothing in particular while her feet twitch with the need to pace.

"A demigoddess," she breathes, and her gaze falls on Maui's hook like it's the first time she gets to see it up close. "I'd be able to build boats in less than half the time. I could teach everyone wayfinding. I could voyage forever."

Tāne-matua nods, but he stays expectant, and it remains unbearably hard to tell whether or not he approves.

"But … " She turns towards the rest of the path, the way leading back to the village, and any excitement there might have been at the idea of powers and immortality dies before she can speak another word. Her face falls. She manages another look at Maui, almost pleading, before her eyes fall on her shell necklace and a hand comes up to gently cradle the pendant.

Maui lays a hand on her shoulder and she just about starts. It nearly breaks his heart to find her muscles don't seem to relax by the time he speaks.

"It's a big decision, kid," he says, "and not one a lot of people get to make. If you need some time … "

She looks up at Maui like it hurts to even see him, but her jaw sets and the strength returns to her bearing, and Maui sees the girl he sacrificed his hook for.

"No," she says, and something in his stomach untwists just a little when she gently pats his hand before she moves it away. "If I leave now I'll be deciding forever."

And the god's eyebrows move almost imperceptibly before he's back to being the personification of the most serene lake in the world. "And?"

She swallows before she lowers her head. "Tāne-matua, God of Forests and Birds, Creator of Humanity, thank you for your kind offer," she says, and she is so small and yet so strong in the presence of the god who created her kind, "But I can't accept this. A chief's place is with their people, and for me to become a demigoddess, I would leave them without a leader. My friends, my family, everyone I worked so hard to save, the whole reason I left Motunui and restored Te Fiti … "

She trails off, and her hand is back on her pendant, rubbing it absentmindedly as she looks back out towards the village. "My people aren't out there, they're here. And I love them too much to just leave."

His head tilts, but he's not offended. He's barely even upset. Instead he's studying her like he would the fantails by the rivers or the unfurling of a new fern: not shocked, but fascinated all the same.

Moana continues, and she's standing as tall and as proud as she did the day she calmed a goddess.

"Any greatness I have, I earned as a mortal," she says, and her voice manages to stay true even as it wavers. "Any greatness I could have, I can still earn as a mortal. As long as I get to live among them, as one of them, that's all the reward I need."

The sunlight dapples in on Tāne-matua's face, and off in the distance is the sound of his precious birds as he considers.

Maui's hand skirts along the handle of his hook, just in case. After all, you could never tell with gods. It would be a doomed battle, but if it would buy her some time …

Tāne-matua nods like he saw this coming, but he smiles like he's pleasantly surprised. Another wave of his hand and the whistlers return to their orbit and the lorikeet perches onto his shoulder, closing its eyes in contentment.

"They were right," Tāne-matua says, and his voice is deep and soothing and ancient and full of a knowledge of something he just won't reveal. "She really is one of the smart ones."

So the walk back to the village is … weird.

It was such a nice morning before birdbrain had to choose that exact moment to manifest. Maui was starting to feel like himself again, Moana and Mini Maui and the stupid magic puddle teamed up to just treat him like the goofball he was, and overall it was probably what he most needed after, well, everything else in the last thousand years. Judging by her reaction, she missed him, too, which warmed his heart in a way he decides not to tell her about until he's sure she's not in another teasing mood. Just, it was so indescribably good to be with that little curly-haired non-princess again, the first person to call him friend in … he's not even sure. Ever, maybe.

And now, walking back to the main part of the village in almost a daze, that's all gone, like their time at sea never happened. After her shock of realising she just turned down a gift from a god, the tension is back, like someone had taken the air around them and wound it up so tight it's a wonder it didn't snap yet. She's taking turns between looking ahead, looking at nothing, and most of all, looking at him, studying him like she didn't have all those weeks alone together to do just that. But it's not fascination, or some sort of bruise or stain she's just dying to tease him about. If he didn't know any better he could almost swear she's in awe.

He frowns.

And tries to beat down that tension with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

"Kid, I know I'm a feast for the eyes, but I'm just gonna nip this in the bud right now," he says, as she sneaks another look at his hawk tattoo. "You're not my type. Also, you're, like, eight. If you really want a piece of this, you're gonna have to wait a few years."

She recoils. "Ew. Ew," she says, and makes it a point to stare ahead at the rest of the path. "I wasn't even looking at you."

"Really?" he says. "Because it's not often I wonder if I need to cover up and deprive the world of this bounty."

"I wasn't."

He looks down at Mini Maui. "Buddy. Back me up here."

And for once in its miserable traitorous little killjoy life the little inkstain agrees with him, nodding and staring at Moana with concern.

She sighs, and looks up at the light filtering in through the trees above like she's seeing the sky for the first time.

"I was looking at your tattoos," she says.

"You had all that time to look at them at sea," he says. "Still can't get enough, huh?"

But she's not rolling her eyes and calling him a dork. Instead her arms come up so she's almost holding herself, and her eyes continue looking up at the sky, like she's wondering if she can make out where it ends. With Tāne-matua he saw the girl he almost died for, the girl who stood up to a demon and saved a goddess. Now that their audience with him is sinking in he sees the girl, so young and so small, who nearly cried at the reminder of her dying village and then clammed up about her own feelings to spare his.

"I was looking because … it's all real, isn't it?" she says, and it's clipped, like she's afraid if she doesn't watch it it'll all come flooding out.

"What?"

"All of it. It's real, I didn't just … " She pauses, and her hands run through her hair and crumple it the way they did whenever she got a rope wrong or got stuck learning a knot. "Maui, I met a god. I met two gods. The gods I pray to, they're all real. They know who I am. They offered me immortality like it was … And you, you're… "

She stops. And that's the end of it.

It's not often he remembers just how vast the sky is. After all, why would he? That incident was so long ago his tattoo is one of the main reasons he can be sure he didn't just imagine it. But the memories drift back up now, of his little arms finally losing their strength as he runs out of air and leaves the sky in its final place, of a flash of light and his first real use of his wings in the mortal world, of an endless glide back down to the ground. He remembers just how much sky there is, and just how much weighs down on them, and he feels the full weight of it falling on him as it finally dawns on her just who he is, and just what that means.

"Sorry," she says, nearly growling at herself, her gaze back on the path. "I'm sorry, I'm being, I don't know. Everyone told me, I knew it in my head, but it's different now and … "

He hates this. He hates when this happens.

"Mo … "

"Moana! Thought I'd find you here!" someone calls from down the path, running towards her. It's a boy around her age, round face and lanky body and what looks like ceremonial clothes. "Feast's gonna start soon, you need to get dressed!" He gives a quick bow. "Your pardon, Maui, Demigod of the—"

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine, kid, we all know who I am," he says, and it probably came out angrier than he was going for.

The kid swallows. "Yeah. Anyway. Moana, come on."

She nods.

"I'll see you later, Maui," she says, and he wants to believe maybe her little bow was just for show in front of company. "Daughter of the chief stuff."

He holds up his hook. "You need a ride? I could—"

But she's gone.

And for the first time since his arrival, he's alone.

He shifts to his hawk form and flies towards his fale before it's just him and the sound of birdsong.

He'd forgotten just how elaborate mortal feasts could be.

He'd probably forgotten a lot about mortals in general, really. But the sheer ceremony involved in just throwing a party like this had to be new, right? Something the humans came up with during his exile because they had nothing else to do after they banned voyaging?

Whatever the reason, it looks like the whole village is there to celebrate his arrival, stuffed almost cheek to cheek along a pathway between his fale and the bigger, rounder one where they held the kava ceremony at the night before. Musicians play somewhere in the crowd while dancers keep the path clear for the people actually invited into the main part of the feast. Both ahead of and behind him are the chief's family and what looks like the village council, dressed in their finest regalia, leaving Maui painfully out of place in his shambling excuse of a skirt. Which might have been ceremony enough, as far as he was concerned, but Moana's conspicuous absence definitely meant there was more.

Sure enough it's her and a bunch of people after everyone's gathered, the backup members of the group running around hitting the ground and generally pumping up the crowd for the arrival of the chief's daughter.

Who is probably the most dignified he's ever seen her.

There's none of the barely suppressed smiles and the giggling of the night before. Moana bears her elaborate headdress with all the respect it deserves, a vision of calm in the middle of the roaring crowd, while behind her is a procession of drinking nuts and enough food to feed all of Motunui. And probably would, really. He wouldn't be surprised if everyone came home with a portion. And for all his concern about how he and Moana left it back in the forest, he can't help but feel his heart soar to see a village no longer so starved for food it once had to turn to ancient chickens and wild-caught rats.

It's been a while since he had to make a speech in public but he makes do with vague recollections of similar speeches he's made in the past, listing all the food items while the orators and attendants helpfully mumbled him the names of their contributors. After what might very well be an actual listing of the entire village, he and the council head into the grand fale to eat.

He's waiting for Moana to sit across him like last night, somewhere he can talk to her without her freaking out and running off, when instead she stands almost to attention at a post behind him while the boy from earlier brings out a fan to keep Maui cool and ward off the flies.

Sina explains before he can ask.

"It's the chief's daughter's job to wait on the guest of honour during a daytime feast," she says. "Don't worry, you two can eat together again tonight."

So, no chance of that talk, then.

But he tries to keep it light, show her that he's just the same old Maui whose ear she liked to pull and whose pratfalls she liked to laugh at. He probably turns back to face her more than he strictly should.

"Drumsticks. Funny, Chosen One," he says, and before he can actually start worrying thankfully spots Heihei eating a rock in the distance while a tiny pig watches in concern.

But every time, it's one of her parents who takes the opportunity to teach him of their customs.

"Ah, yes," the chief says. "We reserve the legs for guests. You may also be wondering about the pork later on. That's just for presentation, to show you got your fair share. It'll be cooked properly tonight. We don't actually serve it half-cooked."

"Oh."

Moana cracks the barest, politest of smiles when he turns and points out how completely dry his eyes are after eating the taro and the breadfruit. There's barely a word out of her every time she gathers up his platter to make room for the next course, scarcely more than the basic pleasantries every time she arrives with yet more food from the seemingly neverending pile.

He sees his opportunity to ask during a particularly loud part of the feast, involving specially-dressed attendants announcing their arrival and then handing out a preparation of grated taro in coconut oil to the guests.

"So is she not allowed to speak?" he mumbles, discreetly as he can, to Sina, who has also been sneaking the occasional glance at her. "Is it a thing at the daytime feasts?"

The chief's brows furrow and then smooth before Moana can notice too much.

"We'll talk to her," the chief says.

It's not as hard as he had worried to hold a conversation with only her parents. The chief—well, Tui—actually was much nicer when he didn't have to worry so much about formalities, and Sina had no shortage of embarrassing baby stories to keep Maui struggling not to just snort water out of his nose whenever she brought one up. By the end of it, when he's nursing a full belly and the attendants are gathering the excess and pork portions for later, he wants to think the two had shed some of the usual qualms about talking to a demigod, really let it sink in that he didn't really need their deference right now. But he doesn't get his hopes up. There's only so much you can do in two meals.

"The children have been asking all day if you could tell them your stories," Sina says, when Moana still doesn't seem to be responding to his attempts to talk. "If it's not too much trouble, would you mind?"

Moana remains at her post, looking just about everywhere but him, her eyes drifting occasionally to some inner part of her psyche she would normally hide away with a smile and a helpful plan of action on what to do next.

Maui barely suppresses the urge to go to her. He's seen this before. She's not going to talk. Not now, and definitely not to him.

Tui brings her off to the back of the fale, where the attendants are starting to tuck into their share of the feast, and Maui can't hear it but there's the beginnings of a conversation he has the feeling she might have had before.

He turns back to Sina.

"Sure," he says. "Maui always has time for his fans. Show me to the little terrors."

"Oh, thank you, Maui," Sina says, and begins to lead him out into the rest of the village. "The school's this way."

Moana doesn't eat until he leaves.

There's no teasing at dinner that night, and when he searches the coasts the next morning for her little splash fights and dance parties, there's no sign of her to be found.

She's the chief in training, Mini Maui mimes. She's probably just doing chief stuff.

And he wants to believe that's it.

The days pass and the people of Motunui begin to relax in the presence of the demigod of their legends. Huali and the other weavers finish those ti leaf skirts and lavalavas she measured him for. Lasalo the fisherman thanks him for helping bring back the fish. Teiki, one of the children, shows him a few … creative dance moves. And in between the usual requests of stories for the kids, feats of strength in the fields, and the occasional bit of shapeshifting to help fix a leak or redirect a school of fish, he looks for her, and finds himself greeted with polite, stilted, respect.

She begins to bow and kneel. Which hurts more than he'd like to admit. Bags form under her eyes, and the beaches remain clear of her footprints. He asks the Ocean if she's ever acted like this around it, and it can't really say for sure.

He staves off some of the worst of the late night existential crises once he stops pretending he needs the sleep and just spends his nights exploring the island. Alone amidst the sounds of burning torches and night creatures and the occasional bout of coupling, it's a comfort just to appreciate the fires of a living village and the fields of an island no longer being drained of life.

It's not so comforting when one night he finds he's not the only one outside when he shouldn't be.

It's even less so when it turns out it's Tui and Sina.

He's about to head back in when he passes by the chief's fale. Tui and Sina are sitting outside on the stairs in the back, casting shadows in the torchlight that move with the flame, Tui hunched over with his head in his hands while Sina drapes an arm over his shoulders in support. It looks serious.

They spot him before he can slink off to give them some privacy.

"Maui?" Sina slowly rises from her seat to peer into the darkness. "Is that you? Why are you up at this hour?"

He tries to shrug like it's no big deal as he gives in and just walks over. "Demigod. Don't actually need that much sleep," he says, and it occurs to him that after all this time helping out around the village, it no longer feels like an admission of guilt to declare his quasi-divinity. "I could ask you the same thing. Everything all right, Sina?"

Tui, too tired to care about propriety at the moment, lets out a huff of unamused laughter that makes it obvious just how dumb that question was.

"We're fine," Sina says. "Chief business, that's all."

Whimpers emerge from their fale that make it obvious just how untrue that sentence was.

"Was that Moana?" Maui says. "Is she okay?"

Tui holds up a tired hand before Maui can rush in there, and heaves himself back up. "I'll handle it," he says, and trudges towards the open screen.

Sina sighs, and pats the empty seat beside her.

"Did she get like this while she was away?" she says.

It doesn't take Maui's memory long to come up with a few examples, some of them while she wasn't even asleep. He begins to wonder if that haunted look just before Lalotai was more than just the usual jitters. "Yeah," he says, "Yeah, a few times."

"She's had nightmares before," she says, when Maui sits next to her and casts a shadow of his own. "When she first came back she'd be crying in her sleep. Lava monsters. Giant bats. Other things, I forget. But she always told us it wasn't that bad, don't worry about it, it's small price to pay to see the village safe again."

She takes a second to gather herself.

"But it's hard not to worry, especially when it's your child," she says.

Her hands gather her skirts into bundles, before they slowly let go.

"I'm sorry," Maui says, and his heart aches at the sound of Moana's sobs and Tui's gentle lullabies. "And it is."

It's all she needs to keep going.

"It's hard for Tui when she's like this," Sina says, the tiredness creeping into her voice and making her careless. "He was like that once. Nightmares that went away when he pretended to be better, just to come back worse when he was reminded that he's not."

"Did I—?" he says. "Did her nightmares come back after I arrived?"

Her silence is all the answer he needs, and Maui just barely resists the urge to just fly back to his banishment island and crawl into his cave for a few decades.

"The thing is, I'm not sure it's you," Sina says. "Not completely. Tui only got better when he began talking about it with someone. Moana … We can't get her to say a thing. She keeps saying we won't understand."

Her face crumples. "And she might be right."

They sit and talk together like this for a while, the torchlight casting anxious, wavering shadows onto the ground below. Maui helps her back up the stairs and wishes them a good night as Moana finally drifts back into a quiet sleep, even though it's probably closer to morning now.

A nightingale lands on his hook as he reaches the entrance to his fale, asking in happy curiosity why he looks so sad.

"My friend needs help," he says, grateful no one else is awake to see this. "Just not sure how to do that yet."

Cheep?

"No, a human friend."

And this seems to attract more of them. The trees come awake with birdsong. Really? Maui, below the gods and above the mortals and never really fitting in with either, has a human friend? Maui? That Maui?

"Yes," he says.

Man, Motunui really did have a gossip problem.

An actual friend, they ask, not another wife or a pawn in his newest scheme?

"Oh, come on, it's not like it's weird!"

The birds beg to disagree.

He huffs and begins to storm off back into the fale when a small flock of various species gathers at his feet.

And he gets an idea.

"All right," he says, and beckons them closer, and they lean in to hear his plan. "I'll tell you about her. But only if you help me out after."

They go wild.

And it's just like old times.

The stars are still out when the nightingales give him the signal.

Maui frowns. "Already? But she must've gone back to sleep two hours ago."

Their feathers ruffle in offence. Hey, you're the one who chose sparrows to watch from the inside. You know how they are.

Maui rolls his eyes. "Fine."

He looks up at the owl perched by the eaves, waiting. She catches his eye and nods.

Back to the nightingales. "And the chicken?"

They nod. Detained.

"Okay," he says. "So we're doing this."

He grips his hook in his hands, thinks the words small and stupid a few times, and hopes the flash of light is quick enough that no one sees.

The crisscross marks of his bedroll are still fresh on Tui's face when Maui enters the fale. Blinking sleep from his eyes, Tui frowns in Maui's direction.

"The chicken is inside again," he mumbles before he rolls back onto his face. "Moana, your pet, your responsibility."

She puts down her comb and ties her hair into a bun with a sigh as she gets up to shoo him out. "Come on, Heihei. Out."

Maui tilts his head—no wonder that thing was always falling off stuff; it was impossible to see anything with those screwy eyes—and starts pecking at her bedroll.

"Heihei, no, we've talked about this."

Sina yawns as she heads out into the village. "He's probably hungry, minnow, just put him out with the other chickens."

"All right," Moana says, and scoops up Maui in her arms, her pig following in tow. "C'mere, you."

She rubs her eyes as she places him down on a nearby grassy area. "See?" she says. "It rained a little last night. Look where all the worms came out. Good Heihei. Hungry Heihei. Time to eat."

Maui clucks a few times like he hasn't heard a word, and makes eye contact with the owl. Or the closest we can get to eye contact, considering.

He squawks, and the owl nods.

Before Moana can so much as finish a yawn Maui is snatched up in the owl's talons and screaming bloody murder.

She gasps, horrified. "Heihei!"

But it's too late. They're up in the air and the owl is leading them out and away from the main part of the village, as per the plan.

She starts out stumbling from the lack of light and the fog of the last remnants of sleep, which requires a few false drops and recoveries on the owl's part, but soon enough she's fully lucid, shouting an apology to a fowler it looks like she just commandeered a pigeon net from before then sprinting into the forest after them like her life depended on it.

"Hey!" she says, hurtling over a fallen log, the pigeon net flapping from its handle like a banner of warning. "Come back with my chicken!"

Maui squawks in what he hopes is a convincing cry for help.

"It's okay, Heihei! It's okay!"

He squawks again, louder and more desperate, when he sees a beach in the distance.

She growls, and the net goes flying, and suddenly everything feels tight and claustrophobic as the ground rapidly comes up to meet them. As soon as she brings the net back up to her face the owl gives the performance of her life in the role of a bird terrified of being eaten. (Maui hopes. Because he'd hate to think of those talons digging into him even more than they already were.)

Angry as Moana is, she still manages to open the net onto the ground and let the owl hop out before she checks on what she assumes is Heihei.

Small and stupid, Maui thinks to himself as the owl flies off. Stay in character.

He springs up and pecks at the ground next to the net handle like nothing ever happened.

Moana sighs in relief and pets him gently along the wings. "Good Heihei."

A flash of light, and suddenly her pig is screaming and running to hide behind her.

She balks. "Maui?!"

He shrugs, like that actually counts as an explanation, and plucks her hand off his arm. "Yeah, sorry about that, kid," he says, and looks off in the owl's direction. "Thanks, buddy, forest rats on me tonight!"

The owl doesn't stop flying, just screeches a thanks in reply.

"Anyway," Maui says, his eyes back on Moana, "so we kinda need to talk."

The sky is lighter now, he notices, as his feet swing from the coconut tree they're using as a seat. Not quite morning yet, not really, but the stars are starting to fade and the tide is coming back in and Maui figures it should be sunrise in a few minutes. The pig—Pua—is settled comfortably on his back and grunting in contentment, Moana absently rubbing his belly with her foot while her hands grip the bark on her sides.

Her toes work up to scratch Pua around the underside of his chin, which the little porker quite likes. Pua snuggles deeper into the sand.

Mini Maui calls for attention, nudging his head in Moana's direction like Maui doesn't know what needs to be done. The demigod rolls his eyes and takes a breath. Well here goes.

"So this is nice, huh?" he says, smile plastered on like it had a halfway decent chance of being convincing. "Us two, animal sidekick, the Ocean—" From further off on the beach, the Ocean gives a little wave. "—just like before."

And from the look on her face, that probably wasn't the best choice of words.

He tries again.

"Look, we never really talked about what happened in the forest," he says. "And I get it, I get it, chief stuff. And daughter of the chief stuff. You've been busy. But I get the feeling it's something you need to get off your chest. Kind of a big deal to meet the god who created you guys and find out he wants to make you immortal. That's why I had to … ask you creatively … to come talk it out."

"Is that how you get birds to like you," she says, "by working together on these schemes?"

"The birds are already my friends," he says, trying for jocular but not quite reaching it. "Schemes are perks, not requirements for the job."

She continues rubbing Pua's stomach.

"I don't regret it, if that's what you're getting at," she says, scratching Pua behind the ears. "It's not bothering me."

"The demigoddess part, sure," he says. "Chief to be, whole future ahead of you, course you'd want a mortal life. You don't exactly scream 'eternal ruler' here, and like you said, you wouldn't just leave."

She sighs, and for a second Maui can almost swear he's looking at a younger Sina.

"So what's there to talk about?" she says. "I made my decision, he wasn't offended, it's back to normal, everything's fine."

"No," he says, "everything's not."

Her fingers grip the bark of the coconut tree tighter.

"Moana," he says, and it almost feels wrong to call her anything other than a nickname, but he needs her attention on this, "you know I don't really need to sleep, right?"

"Yeah."

"And did you know when I'm bored at night I just walk around the village?"

Her toes still, and her foot barely brushes against Pua's stomach.

"So you heard?"

"Not just in Motunui," he says. "And it wasn't just the nightmares. That thing with the dissolving coconut, that talk about your food running out, I had to find out from your mom your grandmother died like three days before we met?"

She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't deny it, either.

"You push a lotta stuff aside, Chosen One," he says. "Don't get me wrong, you got a great Warrior Face and it can really come in handy. But you gotta put it away after the fight. It's a Warrior Face, it's not supposed to replace your real one. Too long and you either can't take it off or you lose it forever."

She stops altogether. Pua raises his head in confusion and begins to shake off the sand.

"I had nightmares at sea?" she says.

"Kid, I'm stoked we saved the world, but I wasn't kidding when I said you shouldn't have been on that mission. I wasn't kidding when I said Ishouldn't have been on that mission," he says. "I mean, coconut pirates, Lalotai, lava monsters—they're scary enough with my hook, and I'm … well, yeah."

She swallows, and her huge brown eyes mist over before she blinks herself back awake.

"Yeah," she says, and her gaze drifts to his hook, planted into the sand like some sort of statue. "You are. Aren't you?"

He braces himself. This conversation never goes easy.

"Maui," she breathes, and there's an awe in there that he wishes he had never once wanted. "Shapeshifter. Demigod of the Wind and Sea. You lifted the sky. You raised the islands. You fought the sun. That's him. That's you."

And he feels it again, the vast expanse of sky, a sky that Tāne-matua tore from the earth and Maui lifted higher. Just how much of it there was, and how much rested on his shoulders.

He tries to shrug it off with a smile.

"Thought I made that pretty clear when we met, kiddo," he says.

"You did," she says. "I thought I got it. But it all happened so quickly, it was almost like a dream. There was never any time to just … " She trails off.

He can't resist. "Breathe it in?" he sing-songs.

A smile. An actual laugh. And in the biting cold of the morning sea breeze he feels warm. "Shut up."

Pua's eyes close in contentment and he snorts as she begins to pet him again.

"I guess," she says, "after I came back I kind of pretended it was all just another story like the ones my gramma used to tell. I could pretend it wasn't so serious and move on with my life. But then you come over and everyone's all weird, I meet a god and … "

"And it's all real," he finishes. "And it followed you home."

She nods.

"No more pretending," she says. "You're not just some shipwrecked guy with powers, you're the demigod from the stories. Te Fiti wasn't just an island, she's the island that created all the other islands. And I'm not just the chief's daughter, I'm … Hero to All. I'm going to be in legends."

She glances at the tattoo over his heart. "Your legends."

She grips the coconut tree bark like it's the only thing keeping her from falling over.

"My parents were right," she says, and she stills, and her voice comes out so small, so young. In the very beginnings of the morning light, her huge brown eyes shine with tears. "It wasn't just a story."

He had only seen Moana break like this once, on a night he's sure they'd both rather forget. He wasn't there for her then. He'll make damned sure he'll be there for her now.

She crumbles into tears in his arms.

"I could've died," she says, like it's finally hitting her just how many years she could've lost, and he barely resists the urge to hold her tighter, just to remind her that she didn't.

It's not nearly long enough before she pushes him away, already wiping at her eyes, already slipping the Warrior Face back on. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's stupid, so mortal, I'm—"

"Mo, this is normal, it's fine—"

"No," she says. "And I never got to apologise, Maui. I've been treating you like some annoying older cousin when—"

"No, no, no, don't you dare with the bowing and kneeling again, you hear me?" he says, and it's firmer than he would've liked but she's listening now. "We've seen some stuff, including each other going to the bathroom. Okay? We're past that point. No kneeling. No titles. Not from you."

"But—"

"Look, you asked earlier what happened after Te Fiti," he says. "It wasn't just nothing."

She wipes away a few straggling tears. "Yeah, no kidding."

"You want the story or not?" he says, and she manages a nod and the ghost of a smile.

Motunui and its gossip problem. The corners of his mouth beg to twitch upwards.

"Okay," he says. "Tāne-matua came to me while you were getting fruit on Te Fiti. That's why I couldn't come help during the first trip, by the way. He tells me a bunch of islands died and I needed to clear them and take away the tapu. So after we say goodbye and you sail off back to your village, off I go, y'know, errand boy to the gods—"

And suddenly he's the one finding it hard to speak.

"And?" she says.

"And I find … a whole bunch of dead lands ," he says. "All these villages, killed by the darkness. More than I'm willing to count. One of them threw me a party the day I left to steal the Heart. Another might've been one of the few places that actually worshipped me. Carving in the spirit house and everything."

He tries not to remember the statue, lovingly carved and happily signed, resting intact amongst the ruins of a village that died and then rotted around it.

"All these people, who all thought I was the best," he says, "and I got them all killed."

And now it's Moana's turn to look like she needs to give the other a hug. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Maui says. "It was my fault. Giving those villages some peace was the least I could do."

His hands gather his new ti leaf skirt into bundles, before they slowly let go.

"But I'm telling you this because … maybe it can't be all autographs and tributes anymore," he says. "Maybe I need someone who doesn't kneel, someone to tell me I'm having a bad idea—y'know, team up with this miserable little killjoy when I'm being stubborn."

Mini Maui frowns at him, but nods at her.

She blinks.

"You want me to be your advisor?" she says.

"Adv—? Moana, I want you to be my friend," he says, and it worries him how just saying that is twisting his stomach into knots. "Is this not how you make—? That's what you said we are, right? Friends?"

And he hopes she meant it. He hopes she still means it.

"Yeah," she says, and it's like she's seeing that dawn before it actually arrives. "We are, aren't we? We're friends."

The warmth in his heart spreads all the way towards the rest of his body, and he realises it's probably not just by chance which tattoo happens to be right above it.

Moana sighs.

"And I guess I need someone I can talk to who understands all … this," she says. "All this god stuff, the Te Fiti adventure, the things I can't talk about with anyone from the village."

He chuckles. "You know me," he says. "Maui always has time for his fans."

"Ha," she says.

"You know you love me."

Pua is resting on his front now, softly snoring while the sand cushions him from all sides. Moana scratches him a little behind the ear.

"So how are we going to make this work?" she says.

He huffs in amusement. "You sound like my wives."

"Ew," she says. "But you know what I mean."

Maui gets up off the bend in the coconut tree, dusts some of the sand off his new ti leaf skirt. "I got some suggestions, mostly involving me staying here and helping you guys learn how to shunt," he says. "But for right now? Might help if we start fresh."

She follows him off the tree, carefully landing to avoid Pua. "What?"

"Well," he says, "we never got a real introduction. That might be why it got weird. You were on a mission, I was trying to steal your boat, we got everything a little backwards."

He shouldn't be this happy to finally see that smirk, that knowing roll of the eyes.

"So, what, we just introduce ourselves and then—?"

"And then, no more weirdness," he says. "I'm a demigod, you're a mortal, we accept it. No more Warrior Faces."

She raises an eyebrow, but she seems up for it. "Okay," she says. "No more Warrior Faces."

They stand before each other in the sand, the sky beginning to glow orange with the arrival of the sun. She takes the first step.

"Moana of Motunui," she says, shoulders squared and gaze proud. "Daughter of the Chief, Master Wayfinder, Hero to All."

"Maui," he says. "Shapeshifter, Demigod of the Wind and Sea, also Hero to All."

He bends down while she rises up to meet him. Their foreheads touch. Her eyes close, and so do his. As they breathe each other in he feels the sun's rays burning through his eyelids, its heat starting to work its way down from his hair to his face, and in the early morning breeze it feels like a real beginning of something.

He can no longer feel the sky, no longer feel it weighing down on him.

The beach comes alive with the crashing of waves and the sounds of terns leaving for the day, and for the first time in months, the combination is soothing. Because he's not alone.

Because when he opens his eyes and pulls away, he's greeted by the sight of his friend. His first human friend.

This will not be another thousand years of silence.

"It's nice to meet you," Moana says, before bursting into giggles at the silliness of it all, and somewhere inside of him he makes the promise to have her back, to always have her back, so she would never have to hide from him again.

Despite the sting in his eyes, his face splits into a grin. "It's nice to meet you too."

Notes:

The Basket of Pursuit - One of the three baskets of knowledge Tāne brought down from the heavens as a gift to the humans. There is discussion on what the baskets could represent, but a theory by the scholar Māori Marsden states it could represent knowledge that humans currently seek. So of course Maui would geek out at the idea of seeing it.