Summary: Unpolished, unedited, just-for-fun drabbles, with no goal in mind. A nameless girl meets Tamatoa. '"Time for a most-delicious snack for my most-delightful self," he leered, and she heard again her mother's voice: Your empathy will get you killed down here, daughter.'
She'd never been happier with a meal than she was with the previous night's dinner – perhaps, in part, because even Tamatoa had seemed charmed by the seasoned fish and vegetables. He'd lingered over what should have been a one-bite snack for as long as it had taken her to eat her entire share. The rest of the evening had passed without incident – she and Tamatoa had sat outside in the warmth, just beyond the coolness of the grotto entrance, and peppered a companionable silence with stories and questions while they waited for oven to do its work.
She liked talking to him. To be honest, she would have liked talking to anything – a baby monster, herself, the spirit of her mother, inanimate objects. But this was the first time in years she'd spoken to someone who could speak back, the first time in her life she had held a conversation with someone other than her mother.
It was challenging, sometimes. He had a different sense of humor than her mother, different cues. And he used strange words sometimes, and spoke of things she had no context for. He was sensitive about a number of topics, quick to take offense and withdraw or sulk, in need of comforting but too defensive to admit it – whereas her mother had never been sensitive about anything at all. Still, she'd learned earnestness and authenticity from a woman who had no patience for dissembling, and she'd learned compassion and insight from the same woman, who – in spite of her fear and protectiveness – had secretly treasured her daughter's softness.
The older woman had loved her island, and her community – and doing the right thing had resulted in it all being stripped away. She had never seen her sweetheart again. She had never seen her village, or the shore she'd grown up on. She had struggled to survive on her own, and had been forced to decide what to do when she realized she was pregnant and alone in Lalotai. She'd labored in silence, biting on a piece of monster-hide she'd scavenged from the remains of a beast slaughtered by its peers. As much as she had warned her little daughter against such tenderness, she desperately needed and wanted some of it back in her life.
And now, here that same softhearted daughter was, winning over the Great Tamatoa with nothing more than - well, patience. And perhaps, though he'd never say so, he was also found habits of hers endearing: her way of affectionately watching him rearrange his treasure until she fell asleep. Her eagerness for his stories, and her willingness to share her own. The way she curled around the nacreous snail-shell while she slept, cuddling it to herself as if he'd given her a soft toy instead of a cold spiral of calcium.
Days and nights passed in a haze of contentment and camaraderie, mundane chores and awkward moments. They'd travelled to and from the old cave. They'd gathered treasure, and transported it, and rearranged it. They ate fresh fish every night. She laughed more than any other time she could remember.
Today, she was perched on the edge of his shell, eating a berry as they approached the cave ahead. Over the last few days, it had largely been emptied, but there was one or two more trips that they could make. She had not realized, before, how large his home was, how many baubles and jewelry and gems had been collected in its chambers and tiers.
"Eugh," he muttered, sounding disgusted as he paused outside the cave. "What is that?"
"What is what?" she asked curiously, resting one palm on his shell beside her thighs.
"That smell." His lip was curled dramatically, and he looked revolted. "I can still smell – ew – demigod everywhere."
"Hmmm," she mused thoughtfully, licking the berry-juice from the fingers on her other hand. "Is it just left over from when Maui was here last? Or do you think he's still around?" She paused. "Or do you think it's someone else?"
Tamatoa sniffed, then winced. "Oh, it's definitely him. And he smells…close."
She felt her heart speed up. She curled her fingers over the edge of his shell. "What do you want to do?" she asked cautiously.
He hesitated. "I'm not – "
"Tamatoa!"
The great crab rolled his eyes. "Well, for –"
"I'm here to finish this, once and for all!"
They both turned and lifted their eyes. It was the first time she had seen Maui, and she was stunned. He looked nothing like her mother had described.
Her mother had spoken of a figure of great spirit and human dignity, whose clear eyes communicated his profound dedication to releasing his fellow people from all manners of bondage. He had been beyond reproach in his morality and his vision for liberation for all. He had been a hero.
This man was impressive, standing above them on an outcropping of rock. He was heavily-muscled, and had his own curious and expressive sort of beauty. But he looked exhausted, and his eyes were half-wild with pain and outrage.
The giant hook in his hand looked charred, and part of it had cracked.
It took only a second longer for Tamatoa to register Maui's vulnerability, and he almost cackled with glee. "Well, well, well, little Maui. What are you doing back here? And with a broken hook, no less?"
He chuckled and advanced. Maui was breathing heavily, but he didn't move.
"Tell me, squishy little semi-god. Are you hiding another human somewhere? Ready to trick me again? Or come out and ambush me?" The crab reared back and she had to cling to his shell at the sudden, strange incline. "I won't be tricked so easily this time." He bared his terrible teeth, stretching for the demigod, trying to reach him with his giant claws. But though Maui might have been weakened by his cracked hook and whatever strange grief was tormenting him, he had the advantage of very high ground.
"No," Maui said through clenched teeth. "It's just me this time."
Tamatoa was grinning maliciously. She'd never seeing this level of menace on his face before. "Oh, did she leave you too? Poor little mini-god." His voice dripped with poison. "It's hard to be so unlovable, so forgettable, isn't it? No matter how much you try to do, they'll never love you – "
"Tamatoa," she whispered.
"Why don't you come down here, little Maui, and let me take care of it for you?"
"I'm done with you," Maui hissed. "I'm done with you – haunting me."
"Oh, ho ho!" Tamatoa laughed, and leered. "Now your failures and shortcomings are somehow my fault? You've always been quick to lay the blame on everyone else, Maui, but that's rich even coming from you."
"Tamatoa!" she said sharply, and the monster froze beneath her. She saw the moment that Maui registered her presence: his eyes zeroed in on her, his eyebrows lifted, and she saw his mouth move as he murmured something unheard beneath his breath. His hook half-lowered.
She cleared her throat and tried to sound stern. "Tamatoa, if you're going to fight him, please put me somewhere safe first." She glared at Maui and crossed her arms. "And you. I don't know what's made you come in here so angry and determined to pick a fight, but it's clear you don't even want to be here."
The demigod's jaw dropped. "I – I'm Maui, Hero of All – "
She waved a hand recklessly. "I know who you are, but you still don't want to fight." She screwed up her face and squinted at him: his pained expression, his pursed mouth and clenched jaw, the way his muscles almost spasmed with tension and strain. She let her voice soften. "You want someone to tell you things are okay. You want someone to tell you that you are okay." She tilted her head. "You want your old friend back."
He visibly deflated, his cracked hook lowered until the curved edge rested against the rock formation he was perched on.
Tamatoa chortled merrily. "She did leave you – "
"No," Maui interrupted fiercely. "I left her."
There was a moment of silence, and then Tamatoa dropped back to his normal position, no longer rearing up to reach the demigod. His lids lowered contemptuously, and his voice dropped dangerously. "Of course you did," he purred knowingly, taking a few steps back. She knew that the gesture was as much to remove her from any direct physical conflict as it was to get a better look at Maui. The crab eyed him measuringly. "She trusted you to help her on whatever her silly little quest was, and you left her." He clicked his claws and sneered. "Yup, that all checks out. Tell me, little Maui, did you at least leave her in once piece? Or did you manage to maim and mutilate her, too?" He hissed through clenched teeth. "You've had, what, two friends in the course of millennia, and you abandoned both of us."
"Enough!" Maui roared, and leapt from the stony outcropping, raising his hook over his head.
"Stop!" she screamed, throwing herself as far forward as she could without losing her balance.
"Babe - !" Tamatoa twisted sideways, trying to ensure she was out of the line of attack, keeping one eye on her and one craned toward Maui.
The demigod bounced harmlessly off Tamatoa's guarding claw. Girl and monster watched, soundlessly, as he slid through the dirt and sand.
"Now I'm really angry," the giant crab said after a moment, advancing. His left claw stayed high, half-guarding his human treasure. "I'm going to enjoy tearing apart all the sad little pieces of your heart, Maui."
"Wait," she urged, and she could almost feel him rolling his eyes.
"What, pearl?"
"Maybe – "
"Why are you even here?" Maui interrupted, dragging himself up slowly onto his hands and knees, using his hook to brace himself. She was startled to realize the question was directed at her. "How did you get down here?" He extended a shaking hand to her. "If you come with me, I can take you home."
For a moment, she was shocked into silence.
"She's my friend," Tamatoa hissed, his mouth curving in a triumphant sneer. "You'll notice that I haven't left her lying on the ground bleeding from a missing leg."
"Your friend." A tired, disbelieving laugh limped from the demigod's mouth. "Oh, okay. You have a friend. A fragile, 'squishy' little human friend."
The crab grinned nastily. "Between you and I, Maui, I've had two human friends. You've only had one. And you'll notice I manage to keep mine around a little longer."
"I am right here, you know," she piped in.
"You can't count me, you overgrown hermit crab," Maui shot back, but his voice sounded exhausted, drained.
Tamatoa's grin grew sharper, harder. "You might be right," he purred. "Little Maui, too self-absorbed to be an actual friend to anyone."
"She's not your friend, either," Maui said sharply. "I know you."
"You don't know anything –"
"You just see her as a walking snack."
"I'm…still right here."
"She likes me." Another nasty, toothy smile. "And I didn't have to lasso the sun or pull up islands to make her like me, either."
"I bet you don't even know her name."
At that, Tamatoa fell silent, casting his eyes sideways at her. She shrugged nervously and opened her palms. For a moment, she thought she should just introduce herself as Starfish. She had been charmed by the petname, and perhaps that would be enough. "I'm – "
"Aroha," Tamatoa interrupted sharply. "Her name is Aroha."
She went very still, her eyes turned to him in something like wonder. She would have never expected him to choose something so sentimental, something with such a wealth of meaning. Had he meant it? Had he been thinking about this name, of all names, for some time? Or was it simply the first thing that came to mind in the moment? It felt like her heart had broken open, and she was surprised to find it filled with light.
"Aroha," she repeated breathily.
Maui's eyes were darting back and forth between them distrustfully. "Okay, you two are weird."
Tamatoa shifted in the way that she knew to be a shrug.
"What if," she said slowly, "you two just….don't kill each other? Just for today."
"That sounds like a terrible idea," Tamatoa said flatly, rolling his eyes so dramatically that his whole head moved.
Maui was quiet for a long moment - and then, he only sighed.
"I can cook some food," she coaxed. "We can eat here, so that we can still keep our home – private."
"I don't want to eat," Maui said tiredly.
"Rude," Tamatoa growled back at him.
"You look like you need to eat," the girl – Aroha, she reminded herself with a soft, deep thrill – said firmly. "Whether you want to or not. And then we can figure out how to proceed."
"Ooh! Ooh!" Tamatoa raised one claw, waving it wildly. "I vote that I proceed – to dismember him."
"It sounds like you were on your way to do something important," she said quietly to Maui, ignoring her friend for the moment. "And it sounds like your friend needs you."
The demigod's face suddenly crumpled and she sat back sharply. Tamatoa stilled, then whistled low. When he spoke, his voice was still mocking, but had been significantly subdued. "Well, that doesn't happen often," the great crab said.
Maui wiped at his face with one massive hand. His cheeks were slick with tears. "I don't know what to do."
"That doesn't mean you can just come here, make threats, and wave your stupid – and, might I add, broken – hook around," Tamatoa snipped, but he sounded more uncomfortable than anything else.
"Tamatoa?" she murmured inquiringly.
He sighed. "You're kidding me, right?" It was clear he knew she wasn't. "Can I kill him tomorrow?"
She spread her open palms. "I'm not forcing you to do anything," she reminded him mildly. "I'm just asking."
He rolled his eyes and pouted. "A twenty-four hour truce," he muttered. "He gets a day."
She turned her eyes to the demigod, who looked all but broken. His shoulders shook. "Can you promise not to hurt my friend?" she asked pointedly.
"What if he attacks you?" Maui asked, almost stubbornly. He gripped his hook with both hands, but even she could see there was no heart in the gesture.
"He won't," she said simply. "I trust him."
She didn't think crabs purred, but she could almost feel Tamatoa's near-gloating pleasure at her words. She rested a hand on the side of his neck. "Can you let me down?" she asked, but rather than lowering himself like usual, he reached up with one giant claw and delicately plucked her from the rim of his shell, setting her down on the ground and bracing her until her feet were steady beneath her. She knew it was a show, intended to illustrate to Maui what a good friend he was, but she only found it vaguely endearing.
And that was how Tamatoa and Maui ended up sitting at opposite ends of the rocky field outside the cave, while the newly-named Aroha went looking for taro and vegetables. Maui at turns stared around himself like a lost child or wept, silently but brokenly. Tamatoa simply looked supremely uncomfortable, or alternatively, annoyed.
"Come, sit with me," she invited while she built a fire outside the cave, beginning to roast the vegetables and two massive fish that Tamatoa had spared them. She beckoned them both with open hands. "Tell me what happened."
And so, haltingly at first, Maui told the story: of his hubris in stealing the Heart of Te Fiti, his exile on the distant island, his salvation in the form of Moana of Motonui. How he had begun their friendship by sacrificing her so he could steal her boat. Every moment of his story was drenched with his shame. A few times she saw Tamatoa open his mouth to sneer or scoff, but the crab would look at her and see the tears in her eyes and restrain himself with a scowl.
"We tried to put it back, but Te Ka was too strong. Too much. She broke my hook."
"And so you left." Tamatoa's voice was flat.
"I was afraid," Maui said softly, staring into the fire.
"We're all afraid," Aroha said quietly, and her eyes caught Tamatoa's and held them.
The crab sighed. "Not me," he protested sulkily, but it sounded hollow.
She tucked her knees up to her chest and gripped her own toes, rocking gently. "I'm afraid of being alone."
Maui bowed his head.
"And I'm afraid nothing I do matters."
He covered his face with his hands.
"What if I never have any kind of positive impact on someone else? What if I never have a community to contribute to? What if I never connect with anyone? What if there is no meaning? What if I fail? I want to do good for people. What if I never do anything good?"
She cast a sideways glance at Maui.
"Sometimes it seems safer to hold on to whatever scraps and shreds we have. What if we risk ourselves and only succeed in making things worse for everyone? What if we lose what little hope we have left in ourselves?"
She hugged herself and looked up, across the fire, and was surprised to find Tamatoa staring at her intently. The flames reflected in his enormous eyes, and his bioluminescence was glowing faintly. There was an expression on his face that she couldn't identify beneath the flickering shadows and light: something thoughtful, and maybe a little bit sad. She managed a lopsided smile.
"Tell me about this Moana," she said only, and Maui took in a shuddering breath, looking up at the sky.
"She's a stubborn little runt," he said after a moment. "Headstrong. Reckless." He swallowed. "A fast learner. Dedicated. I've never met anyone with such a – a devotion to her vision for her people, for their safety. For her island." There were tears in the corners of his eyes as he stared upward. "She had to basically sort of – trick me, manipulate me into helping at first. But she – she saw something in me."
Tamatoa watched silently from the other side of the fire, his eyes narrowed on Maui. She was sure he wanted to say something scathing, but he kept his mouth shut for the moment.
"When I met Moana," Maui said, spreading his palms, "I was still…you know, grieving, I guess. I had spent so long trying to do these things for people, and I'd been – punished for it. Exiled. I was alone, and you're right, it was my deepest fear. We're supposed to grow up as a community, as a people who share each others' work and joy. And I was alone. Again."
"And then this girl came and saved you," she said with a soft smile, and Maui laughed sadly.
"Yeah. She did."
"You weren't always alone though," she said gently, glancing at Tamatoa again. The crab was frowning, his face shuttered and drawn.
"I mean – " Maui half-protested, then paused and sighed regretfully. "I guess I wasn't."
She sat back on the heels of her hands. "It's funny," she said mildly. "You were a human boy who was supposed to grow up with a family and a village, and Tamatoa was a little coconut crab who was supposed to grow up completely alone. And then you found each other."
"Don't make it sound more serendipitous than it was," Tamatoa growled, his voice low.
"Mm," she uttered stubbornly, shaking her head. "You learned from each other." Her eyes were dreamy and sad. "You were each other's village."
Maui swallowed. He stared back into the flames, studiously avoiding the giant crab's gaze. After a long silence, he said, "I always regretted leaving. That first time. I never stopped thinking about it."
She caught the look of shock that stumbled over Tamatoa's face, quickly masked. "And the time you took my leg?" His voice was ominous.
Maui frowned, but still didn't look up. "You were trying to kill me."
"I was trying to scare you," Tamatoa said sharply.
"Well, it worked," the demigod said dryly. "Besides, if you would just molt, you could grow your leg back."
"Do you know how long it took to get my shell plated with this level of treasure?" The crab sounded aghast. "Molting. You would suggest that. You'd like to see me soft-shelled and vulnerable again." Tamatoa bared his teeth. "Besides, you deserved to be deserved to feel how I felt when you went away. I spent years thinking you'd come back, that you'd change your mind. I spent decades more looking for you." He snorted. "You were always about the grand gestures, trying to impress the humans. You taught me that. And when I heard you were looking for the Heart of Te Fiti – I thought, if I could get to it first – " He lapsed into an angry silence, every limb tense with resentment.
"You were just – too big," Maui said helplessly. "You were too hungry. I didn't know how to keep taking care of you. You were going to do something terrible, and I wouldn't be able to protect you from the outcome. You were gonna get yourself killed."
"And what about your ridiculous little human?" Tamatoa snapped. "What's your excuse for leaving her, little Maui?"
Maui opened his mouth to protest and she reached out to the demigod with one hand, halting him.
"Wait," she urged gently. "Think about what he's asking you. He deserves a real answer."
Tamatoa leaned back, settling into his crouched position. His eyes were watchful and angry, and maybe hurt.
"She – she's too stubborn. Too reckless." Maui sighed, knowing that he was about to repeat himself. "She's going to do something stupid and I won't be able to protect her. She's going to get herself killed." He closed his eyes. "I'm going to fail her."
When Tamatoa spoke over the crackling fire, his voice was tense and low.
"You failed me when you left."
For a moment, Maui looked up, suddenly stricken. He stared at Tamatoa, who looked back evenly.
There was a long moment of silence. The fire crackled.
"What do I do?" Maui said at last, and he sounded lost.
Tamatoa opened his mouth and caught her eyes, stopped, and sighed. After a moment, he finally said, "If she matters to you – if any of this matters to you – don't keep her waiting, man."
They sat in silence for a long time. The world grew darker, and soon the only light was from the fire itself and Tamatoa's bioluminescence. At one point, Maui rose to get more wood stalks and leaves to feed the fire.
"How are you feeling?" she asked Tamatoa, once she thought he was out of earshot.
"Hungry," the crab said moodily, then sighed. "I'm fine, babe. And you should sleep."
She chuckled and rose, walking toward him. He was still brooding, his chin resting on the ground while he stared into the dwindling flames. "You'll let him go back tomorrow?"
"As long as he doesn't give me any grief," the great crab sulked. "This time."
"He's going to go to her. And he's going to help her. You helped him to do that."
He scowled. "Believe me, starfish, I wasn't trying to help him with anything."
She smiled and reached out, placing one palm to the side of his face. Her hand was dwarfed by the size of him. "Is my name really Aroha?" she asked, shy for the first time since they'd met, and she felt him flush beneath her fingers.
"If you want it to be," he said gruffly, slanting his eyes at her.
She smiled. "How long did you have it picked out?"
He scoffed. "It was just the first thing that came to mind." A pause, and then he added reluctantly, "…a few days ago."
She smiled and leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the side of his face. "I love it." She breathed in, tired but happy.
He shifted awkwardly. "Climb up, babe," he suggested, and she did, nestling into her canoes and running her fingers over the glassy snail-shell.
It was later in the night that their low voices woke her. Drowsily, she shifted beneath her monster-hide blanket, half-asleep but still listening.
"You can't keep her here forever," Maui said. Even fuzzy with leftover half-dreams, she was surprised by how low and gentle his voice sounded. "She needs people. She needs a village."
"She's been fine so far." Tamatoa's tone was flat and uncompromising.
"I know," Maui said after a moment. "And – and I really do think she likes you." A pause. "I was wrong to say you weren't friends."
Tamatoa snorted softly. "That girl could be friends with a rock. Or a slothmonster." He shuddered. "Have you seen the claws on those things?"
"But she didn't choose a rock or a slothmonster," Maui reasoned. "She chose you." Another pause. She heard a shifting, and a spray of sparks rose overhead. She imagined Maui had prodded the fire. "And you deserve to have – to have a good friend," the demigod said after a moment.
There was a stillness, and then the world around her moved as Tamatoa heaved a sigh.
"Maui, man – "
"I'm sorry," the demigod said quietly. "For leaving you, the first time. And for – for cutting off your leg."
"Good," Tamatoa shot back, his voice still low. "You should be." A shift as he resettled himself. "And I don't forgive you yet." A pause, and then, reluctantly: "Maybe someday."
"Well," Maui said slowly, a trace of humor in his voice. "I forgive you."
"For what?" Tamatoa gasped, affronted.
"For trying to eat me last time."
Tamatoa snorted. "You can't forgive me for something I'm not sorry for."
"Can too."
"Ugh," the crab scoffed.
"And," Maui added quietly, "for using our friendship – all the things I told you – against me."
There was a long silence, and an uncomfortable shift.
"I'm not – I'm not good at apologizing," Tamatoa said at last, sounding irritable.
"Then it's a good thing I don't need your apology to forgive you," Maui responded lightly.
There was a pause.
"And I am not sorry for trying to eat you," the crab went on stubbornly. "You deserved that."
The demigod hummed under his breath. "I hear what you're not saying, Tama."
They lapsed into a silence that felt surprisingly companionable. And then, just as she was beginning to drift back into slumber, she heard Maui speak again.
"I mean it though. It's not fair for you to keep her here." Another shower of crackles from the fire, another flare of sparks. "Let me take her back with me. I'll drop her at an island before I go back to Moana. It's been a while, but I'm sure I can find one nearby with a healthy, happy village who will be willing to take her in and make her part of the community."
"You're just determined to see me alone, aren't you?" For a moment, the monster sounded incredibly old, and incredibly tired.
A pause. "I'll visit," Maui offered.
Tamatoa chuckled darkly. "Your head's gotten even bigger than I remember if you think you'd hold a candle to her."
"That's fair," the demigod conceded reluctantly. "But Tama, she's – she's human. She's fragile."
"I can keep her safe. You're the only one who ever gives me any hassle. No-one else bothers what's mine." His voice was a growl.
"Okay," Maui conceded. "Let's say you can. Let's say nothing ever harms her, and she never gets sick or twists an ankle or needs someone to take care of her – "
"I can take care of her," Tamatoa said, and it sounded like a warning.
"Let's say all that," Maui soothed. "Tama, she's still – she's a mortal." A pause. Gently: "She's going to die."
In her bed, she curled around her snail shell, suddenly wishing she couldn't hear this after all.
"She's going to grow old and die in a – a blink of an eye, to the two of us. You could fall asleep one day for a nap and wake up to find her decades older."
The silence was palpable, and dangerous.
"She needs people," Maui said softly. "You can't deny her a life, especially when it'll be so brief."
"You want her to leave me."
Maui grunted softly. "No." A sigh. "I want you to leave her."
"I don't – what?"
"You gotta let her go, Tama. You heard her today, when she was – when she was trying to help me. She wants a community. She wants to be part of something."
The quiet dragged on for ages. She felt tears collect in the corner of her eyes, run into the hair at her temples.
"I – " Tamatoa started, then stopped. The quiet went on and on. She bit back a soft sob. "I can't," he said, and his rumbling voice cracked. "I don't want to." His tone grew harder. "No. No, no way. I don't let go of what's mine. And I don't leave."
"She's not a – a coin, or a goblet," the demigod said gently.
"No," the crab said again, more quietly this time, and she wasn't sure if it was a protest or an agreement. "No. She's not. But I can't be alone again."
They returned to silence, then, and though it took a long time, Aroha eventually cried herself back to sleep.
