This story was co-written with the wonderful Salty Nebula. It serves as both a crossover between and an epilogue to both of our Lilo & Stitch stories - namely my Lilo & Stitch's Ohana and her Suzume no Namida and others. Thank you so much for writing this with me - it was an absolute joy.
HER MAJESTY
A Series of Letters Between Two Cousins by Salty Nebula and Bennie Stardust
From the Aumakua...
Aloha Dina,
My sincerest apologies for such a late response to your last letter. I have had many busy days preparing a case for my next diplomatic assignment. Of course, I do not intend to use this as an excuse for ignoring one of my dearest cousins. My ohana will always be foremost in my mind and heart, no matter how pressing my duties become.
Speaking of which, I hope all is well with all of you back in Kokaua. How have Ani and Hokū been? Are Annie and Oakley keeping out of trouble? I hope the triplets haven't been working too hard. Did Lana enjoy her last holiday?
There are days when I feel a line splitting me down the middle. One half of me thinks that I shouldn't need to ask the questions I just put to you. I should be there in the warm Hawaiian sun, beside all of you, relishing in the beautiful home our mothers, fathers, aunts, and uncles gave us. However, the other half of me would never feel at ease knowing that there may be others out there who need help. After all, my mother and father, Auntie Lilo, and all the others went out and helped me. They took the gifts that others gave them and passed them along to me. I should carry that gift on further, as far as I can take it. I think they would've liked that.
I don't mean to pelt you with all of this existentialism. In all honesty, I have a big job tomorrow and, I confess, I am feeling anxious about it. I will be representing the Galactic Alliance in front of the Neptunian Council. The Neptunians are a proud people, seemingly despite their overflowing population and all the poverty that inevitably brings. In past generations, their Council has consisted of all the members of the royal family. However, the previous king and queen had triplets who have inherited equal power over their home planet. Based on the correspondence I have had with their representatives, the unique circumstances of their rule have only fueled their egos.
Forgive me - this is all rather dreary political talk, isn't it? The short of it is that tomorrow, I must convince three lofty brothers to accept mine and the Alliance's aid in saving their unhealthy, unhappy citizens. Even after all my years aboard the Aumakua, there are still times like this when I feel as small and frail as the creature my father took from Zorek's lab so long ago.
I have done all I can to calm my mind until the meeting comes tomorrow, but I have been unsuccessful. I came closest when I remembered Uncle Chop and Uncle Dan. I remembered when they built a new Surveyor for me for my tenth birthday - one with much longer and faster limbs. Uncle Chop let me borrow his bow to use to test out the Surveyor's improved reflexes. Uncle Dan had gone to get another slice of cake, and Uncle Chop took the opportunity to confide something in me. He told me that he'd been afraid that he'd be unable to complete the Surveyor in time for my birthday. A muddled calculation or a loose screw would cast his mind into a panic. Then Uncle Dan would come and help him or give him a kiss, and his panic would melt away. Getting the Surveyor ready went from something he couldn't do to something he'd already done.
I tell you this because I want you to know that our letters, whether I'm writing mine or receiving yours, bring me the same comfort. Even after nearly a century, I still need these little rituals to remind me of my dearest cousins.
I hope I can write to you with more uplifting news in my next letter. Until then, I will eagerly await yours as always.
I miss you.
Warmest regards and aloha,
Your cousin, Akela.
P.S. Aloha from Terra as well.
From Earth
Aloha Akela,
There's no need to apologize for the late response; the job of a Councilman is a demanding one after all. We're just happy you're doing alright as you prepare for your assignment. Let Terra know we on Earth send our regards; we hope she's been adjusting onboard the Aumakuma. It's a big change from a laboratory.
Everyone on Earth is well; Hokū and Ani recently attended Daveigh's college graduation; it's hard to believe how much time has passed since she was born. As for the others, the twins are trying their best; aside from Annie "forgetting" to pay for Daviegh's graduation gift at first, they've been alright. The triplets are a bit distant, but they've been trying to take things slow given the season. Lana's holiday went well; she brought back some star sand from Okinawa and everyone's passing it around the room as I write this. She also sends her regards as your sister and is currently asking me to remind you to take frequent breaks during your time on Neptune.
There are times when I do share in that sentiment. I do wonder what could've been had I chosen to head into space, but at the same time, there is work to do on Earth as well. I feel like we're the same whether we're in space or on Earth; our ohana has always been focused on helping others. Whether it was my father looking after our uncles and Aunt Angel when they were captured, or how they took in so many of our cousins from around the galaxy over the years, or even small, simple acts of compassion like Auntie Lilo meeting and befriending Uncle Stitch. Your actions as a Councilman aboard the Aumakuma are another realization of our ohana's desire to help others, something I agree they would have loved.
I don't mind the existentialism; given the nature of this assignment I'd honestly expect some. The situation you describe sounds familiar, save for higher stakes due to the power these brothers wield over their planet. I believe a way to mitigate your fears over this is to perhaps think of this as a family conflict; it appears to be one when you strip away the surrounding pressures. I remember the dynamics Dad described between himself and, well-the other formerly captured experiments; they're reminiscent of what you describe, save less dangerous given they did not control Earth. No matter how unbearable things became on the ship, Dad told me he focused on making sure everyone was safe; handling each conflict as though it were simply another in the old lab. Ship situations were unfamiliar, but lab ones were, and stripping away the pressures of the setting allowed him to focus on the core of each problem he ran into. I'm unsure if that method may be of help in these circumstances, but I figure to offer it in case it does.
I remember Uncle Chops' nervousness well on that day, and leading up to it; at the time, the task seemed almost impossible to him, but he still managed to complete the Surveyor. To this day I believe it was the assurance of Uncle Dan that helped him focus on the task at hand; our loved ones have a way of bringing out feats in us we may have not thought possible, and Uncle Chops being able to complete the Surveyor in time is one of many instances of that occurring.
I'm happy to hear these letters bring you comfort; you are out in deep space after all, and I'm sure things get lonely so far from home. These letters are small, but they serve as an anchor between us, and I think that's important to remember, especially in stressful times like these.
I hope to hear from you soon; I believe you can succeed in your assignment and I hope things calm down.
Please take care of yourself during this time.
Your cousin, Dina
III.
Aloha Dina,
My sincerest thanks for your comfort and understanding. Terra sends her thanks as well. She's beginning to make new friends around the Aumakua, and has taken quite the shine to music. She says she'd like to take music lessons soon. Sometimes, when she's listening to an album after a long day at the beach, she reminds me of Makuahine. She loves poring over photographs of our ohana and is both nervous and excited at the prospect of meeting you all soon.
I'm sorry I missed Daveigh's graduation. Please let her know that I'll have a wonderful graduation present for her when I next visit. On the twins' front, I suppose we all have those odd lapses back into old habits. Perhaps I should take a note out of the triplets' book in regards to my work. Speaking of which, please let my dear sister know that her stubborn brother will do his best to heed her kind advice.
Of course, you are right that there are people who need help in all corners of the galaxy, from our neighbors in Kokaua to the furthest cosmos. In that case, it is a comfort to know that our ohana is always nearby to pass on our parents' wisdom and kindness.
This brings me to my mission today. I was befuddled even before I met the brothers face-to-face. Traversing the Neptunian city streets was like pushing through the largest and most crowded amusement park you can imagine, only without any rides, games, food vendors, or any commodities to make the congestion worth suffering. It made the Neptunian Royal Family manor seem even more ludicrously spaced. Their ceilings offered much clearer skies than those outside. It was a beautiful building but horrifically misused, housing only three men and their servants.
The brothers themselves seemed more anxious than I anticipated. They were spitting images of one another, from the watery-blue shade of their skin to their pincers' points to their coral green eyes. I thought they would turn their noses up at me when they refused my offers of help before I could make them, but their tones were pleading. "Please don't involve yourself in our government's matters!" They spoke as if I would've stormed their planet with the Alliance Military, inflicting my help upon them. They said they didn't need my help, but I knew that, in truth, they didn't want to need anyone's help. They pointed at the portraits of their ancestors, glaring proudly down at them, and droned on about how Neptune never has asked or will ask for help. Listening to them babble, showing so much more concern for rotted traditions than for the people being smothered just outside, I hated them for a little while.
I remembered what you told me; they are as much a family as you and I. I pushed past my hatred and saw a longing to do right by the people who raised them, just as I feel for Makuakane and Makuahine, and as I know you feel for Uncle Hamm and Auntie Clip. I asked the brothers what they wanted for Neptune's legacy. Did they want a planet brave enough to shed outdated traditions, letting its citizens carry Neptune out into the stars? Or did they want students of future generations to read about the planet that let itself die out just so they wouldn't have to commit the egregious sin of asking for help? I took them to their nearest window and pointed out a shop we could see from there. The door was open; we saw people stepping over sleeping bags to reach the clerk.
I do not think the words exist to describe my relief when the brothers agreed. I think we all felt a weight taken from our shoulders. There was something magical about that moment; three people I had hated only minutes prior had taken the first steps to becoming new allies.
As I returned to the Aumakua to begin preparations for the next days' emigrations, I thought of the chess games I used to play with Uncle Checkers. He always seemed like such a kind, peaceful old soul, always smiling, always with kind words when trouble came around. I often found it difficult to believe the stories our ohana told us about him and the Man Who Sold the World, even those told by Uncle Checkers himself. Still, sometimes, in the heat of a game, as his violet eyes scrutinized the board's every detail, it seemed that he slipped back in time, back to the Man's world. I thought I saw that same look in the brothers' eyes.
Thank you for helping me keep this problem in perspective. The way you described your father, I believe you are very much like him. Your concern for others' safety and well-being is something we can all strive for. I hope you know that I am willing to return that concern to you whenever you may need it.
Until then, I'd better get some rest for the Neptunians tomorrow. Here's to better days, dear cousin.
Warm regards,
Akela
XOXO
IV.
Aloha Akela,
You're very welcome for the regards; I'm happy to hear about Terra; she's come a long way in such a small amount of time. Us on Earth are just as excited to meet her as she is to meet us; Minerva's already managed a trip to the music store for ideas on what to buy her in between grading papers. She told me to ask if there's any specific genres Terra's taken to.
Daveigh understands; she says hello and is excited to see you on your next visit. She also wants to show you her thesis on conserving the local beaches. The twins and triplets also send their regards; Leilani's been planning ahead for the holidays since business picks up around that time. Even now she's been placing Halloween arrangements in front of the flower shop. And of course, I'll let Lana know you're doing your best to heed her advice.
I'm relieved to hear the assignment succeeded. The way you describe the brothers, they truly sound as though they didn't know how to approach their predicament without compromising their family's values. They don't sound intentionally malicious as much as they sound scared and unaware; they'd also lost two people they'd normally look to in difficult situations, something that both of us know can be very painful. I do feel for them, though like yourself, that's tempered because of their power over their citizens and the pain their hesitance invariably caused. That the conditions were that extreme when you visited is deeply concerning, and I don't blame you for feeling frustrated with them. But at the same time, they did understand-even though they were reluctant at first, that they needed help, and I'm happy you managed to convince them there's no shame in such a thing.
Your description of the brothers' hesitance reminds me of when I worked up the courage to explain my fears to Uncle Thresher; I wasn't dextrous when I was young, and he'd offered to teach me the drums to help alleviate it. He had gotten me my own to practice with, but myself being only five, thought I'd be learning on his-the same ones he'd played to cheer people after The Man's world was dismantled. I was afraid I'd damage them, and I ended up hiding when he came over; I think he knew I took after my father, since he simply found and asked me what was wrong. I knew I needed help; I could barely write at the time thanks to my claws, but explaining my fears was difficult. They were unfounded, but at the time they felt real. I feel like the brothers experienced something similar; their fears were simply that, but to them, there was a real problem they didn't know how to address.
I got the same impression of Uncle Checkers; my father being close to him in number did make his past less of a shock, but it's still hard to believe he could enable someone like The Man to do so much damage. Good people are capable of terrible things if their circumstances will it, and perhaps you saw a glimpse of that in the brothers' hesitance to change. But, like Uncle Checkers and so many others, they did agree to start taking those first steps to do so, and that willingness to improve outshone their initial fears of change.
Thank you; your comparison isn't without some humor to me, I turn gray with each passing day-but it's still strange to think that it's been nearly a century, and yet our ohana's lessons still resonate with us. I'd like to think they live on in that way.
I'm glad I could be of help to you during this assignment; I hope helping everyone onto the Aumakua goes smoothly.
Aloha,
Dina
V.
Aloha Dina,
Thank you for sending me everyone's regards. Let Daveigh know that I will be more than happy to read her thesis. Could you ask Leilani to send me some pictures of her decorations? I always enjoyed watching our hometown take on a new color for each yearly celebration. When we finally see each other again, we will have to ask our little ones which of us they think is a deeper shade of gray.
Thank you for sharing your memories of Uncle Thresher. While our ohana lives on in our actions, they are also survived by the stories they shared with us. Even after all this time, Uncle Thresher's kindness and patience that day can still comfort you now. That, I believe, is the purest form of immortality that even the maddest scientist could ever hope to achieve.
Have you ever had a day that simultaneously exhausted and fulfilled you? I had exactly that sort of day. I led a team of volunteers from the Aumakua's crew as we ran a series of emigration booths scattered across Neptune. The lines spanned entire city streets, but as the day went on, the lines shrank as nearly a third of the planet's population found new homes aboard the Aumakua. It was a lot of work, but any day that ends with more people in comfortable, loving homes than it began with can only be a wonderful one.
While many Neptunians were excited about their new home, some were reluctant about such a significant change. This was where I was thankful for my cousins on the Aumakua, who showed every Neptunian that new friends and family awaited them on board. For instance, one young man, a medical student called K'Mara, spent a good few minutes pacing with his bags near our emigration application desks. I could sympathize with him - I remember spending longer than I should've lingering outside the ship that would take me to the Galactic University, knowing I would become a different version of myself as soon as I entered.
Terra wanted to come out and watch her new cousins board the Aumakua. She caught sight of K'Mara and went to speak with him. I overheard them talking about school. Terra spoke about how much she'd studied for her last spelling tests. K'Mara talked about all the work he'd been putting into his thesis on bio-prosthetics. After that, I gave them some space. Half of me wanted to stay as close as possible to Terra, but another half didn't want her to feel that I was only replacing Dr. Kyrax's prison for one of my own design. Terra deserves to have a parent as supportive as those you and I had.
Surely enough, by the time I'd helped sign three more households up for residency on the Aumakua, Terra was guiding K'Mara onto the ship hand-in-hand. That evening, she told me all about how happy she was that her cousin K'Mara could come to live with us.
We'll be on our way to Earth very soon. After today, I have so much to look forward to, but seeing you, our cousins, and the beautiful Hawaiian waters again are at the top of my list.
Lots of love,
Akela
P.S.
Hi Auntie Dina. Akela wanted me to tell you what kind of music I like. I really like David Bowie. Can't wait to meet you.
Love, Terra,
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
VI.
Aloha Akela,
I let Daveigh know you're interested in her thesis; I can't tell whether she's happier about The Aumakuma returning to Earth, or just seeing you again given she picked me up to hug me out of excitement. I'm aware that's not something our little ones can do with us much nowadays, but I let this one slide. Maybe it's the subject matter of these letters that did it. I've also attached some pictures of Leilani's arrangements; she says she has special ones planned for The Aumakuma's arrival, so these are more of the usual we'd see growing up. And of course, to Terra, Minerva and Lucy visited the records shop and got several albums; I can't say which ones since they are a surprise, but I can say that they're all Bowie albums. We really hope you enjoy them.
You're welcome for sharing; it seems this mission has brought out plenty of it from both of us. The old picture of my parents and relatives standing around me is still on my desk as I've written these and it still brings back memories; reading your response made me take a closer look. It's both strange and comforting to realize how much of an impact our Ohana has on us after all this time.
I'm glad to hear everyone's been taken care of; ⅓ of an overcrowded planet is still undoubtedly millions of people. Of course, those of us still on Earth will be happy to welcome them when The Aumakuma arrives. It's also good to hear you had so much help-whether that be from your team of volunteers or Terra bonding with K'Mara. Every little bit of assistance helps in situations like these. It's great to hear about how quickly Terra and K'Mara bonded as well; leaving behind an old home for an unfamiliar one is difficult regardless of the prior circumstances, and the fact she was so understanding of such a hardship is very mature. Please let her know we're all proud of her and are excited to meet K'Mara when you arrive.
On your concerns about potentially overstepping when it comes to Terra-I think that's normal for parents and guardians, mine notwithstanding. It's reasonable to want to be hands-on, and it can be difficult to find that balance between being such and leaving people to learn on their own. Opting to let Terra show K'Mara around the ship was the right choice, but it is still only natural; many of those both aboard The Aumakuma and on Earth haven't come from the best situations. It honestly reminds me of how our Ohana could be towards other new members. I remember even our first meeting; Dad did the opposite of you and held me back from the tank thanks to my claws. In that situation it was necessary, but in others it wasn't-Mom or the others had to step in and remind him to leave me to my own devices. I remember the day her and Uncle Heat talked him into letting me walk up to the glass of your tank; he was very hesitant-for both of our sakes, but he eventually relented. We waved to each other and I remember we got right to talking. It's been years, but that visit still stands out in my mind as being especially fun.
Speaking of which, that's great to hear you'll be here soon; us on Earth are looking forward to seeing you again.
Lots of love,
Dina
P.S: Here's all the arrangements; Leilani did a brilliant job this year putting them together.
VII.
Aloha Dina,
At the time of writing this letter, the Aumakua has very nearly reached Earth. You may very well get to respond to my thoughts here in person.
I have taken your advice and your recollections of Uncle Hamm to heart. Terra is overjoyed at the news of Lucy and Minerva's record haul. I don't doubt that K'Mara will be just as enthused; Terra has spent the last few days gradually warming him to the words of Ziggy Stardust, Aladdin Sane, and Major Tom. Terra blossoms when she is allowed to explore the world and her cousins aboard the Aumakua on her own. Uncle Hamm was incredibly protective, but I know he also saw a lot of pain in his life, be it done to himself or to his closest friends. He only wanted to protect his Ohana from more pain as much as he could. I think that's something we've both inherited from him.
Leilani's arrangements look as stunning as ever. I cannot wait to see them. She truly knows how to bring out the best and brightest aspects of any setting. Also, while I can concur with your reservations about being picked up at our lofty age, I confess that I'm looking forward to the prospect of being twirled about by my cousins in Hawaii once more. And, of course, that includes you.
I have been thinking a lot about what you wrote about our Ohana's enduring impacts on us. Where you had the photographs on your desk, I had the stories I shared with the new passengers each night around a fire on our beach. They have become ever more curious about Earth, Hawaii, and the cousins they will soon meet, and they have found my stories a profound means of tiding themselves over until we arrive. Last night, I told them a story about Makuakāne. I cannot quite remember when this happened, but I remember it was the day I discovered that I did not have tear ducts. I was devastated when I found out; Makuakāne always said that, when someone cries, they shed one tear for each person who loves them. I asked him if the reason I couldn't cry was that nobody loved me. He gently held one of my tentacles in his claws and told me that, when he cried, he shed twice as many tears for me. I felt like I wanted to cry, but in the best way possible, when you're so happy that you forget yourself and just let everything out. I saw lots of tears on the cheeks of our new cousins. I don't think they were sad; I think they just wanted to count how many people loved them.
The days don't feel so long anymore. I hope they'll last longer when we're together.
Sending you all of our love,
Akela.
P.S.
I'm so sorry, Dina. My first instinct was to keep this to myself, but once I reached the end of my letter, I simply couldn't hold it in anymore.
I visited Zorek again. I visited him for the final time.
In the past, he'd growl some bitter rant about how I was wasting my time on him. He'd go on about how unfair it was that all he got for his life's work was a life sentence in an empty water tank while I had the perfect life handed to me. The water seemed to boil at his glare.
I thought there might be a way to help him. After all, I am an exact copy of Zorek; if this brain has the capacity to think for good, for justice, for love, then I thought those qualities must exist somewhere deep down in Zorek. But it seems all my visits have been in vain - the prison doctors say that he's nearing the end of his life. I do not know if I missed something somewhere or if this was always a vain endeavor.
Zorek had nothing to say to me when I stepped up to his tank. He didn't even look at me. I'm still not sure if he was devastated at the news that his life was nearly over or if he was just scowling as he always did. I tried to think of something to say to him, an apology, a demand, a confession, anything, but I couldn't think of the words. I wished I had tear ducts.
While I couldn't think of the words, I could think of the music, so I sang for him. I sang him a song that I remembered Makuahine singing for me on her electric guitar - Don't Let the Sun Go Down On Me. I sang the whole thing.
"Although I've searched myself, it's always someone else I see."
I thought it might prompt some sort of reaction from him. I don't know what I was expecting, but knowing how it always made me and Makuahine feel, I thought, if any part of Zorek really was like me, then he might at least turn around. He didn't.
Should this be bothering me so much? If he was never going to change, then I did nothing wrong. Perhaps I'm only depressed that I spent as much time as I did visiting him when it made no difference. Perhaps he thought I was the only "good Zorek" there could ever be. But maybe those are only more reasons why I should've visited him.
I'm sorry to dump all this at the end of this letter. Maybe we can talk about it more when I see you. Then again, I don't know how much more thought all this is even worth.
Perhaps we'll worry about that when the Aumakua touches down. Take care until then.
With love,
Your grateful cousin, Akela.
VIII.
Dina's claws gripped her cane as she cast yet another glance out the window; the gigantic shape of The Aumakua could be seen in the distance, having long since replaced Jumba and Pleakley's old ship. By contrast, the Pelekai house was unchanged-save for new furnishings- TV on the wall instead of atop a stand, a painting of the ocean over the couch…
The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
The same could be said for the guests; experiments, humans, Aumakuma passengers-all intermingled throughout the house. Daveigh and K'Mara were caught up in a discussion about the latter's research as Lana led an excited Terra by the hand into the kitchen. Just inside, the gigantic form of Minerva could be seen alongside Lucy and Hiroki, the former giving Terra a warm smile and a wave as the two entered. K'rtz'n and Leilani were seated together on the couch, both balancing plates in between a conversation about the latter's newest flower arrangements. The two caught Dina's eye for a moment, and she offered them a smile-albeit a sheepish one given what was on her mind.
She hadn't told anyone about the contents of the last letter-at least, not the last part. The subject of prior situations and creators was already rather taboo and for good reason-Zorek was among the worst of them and the subject of him, although known amongst the Ohana, was still something everyone tended to tread carefully around. Even the triplet's creator-a desperate weapons manufacturer-had reached an epiphany during their arrest. Zorek...never had.
From the looks of it, he'd never even realized he'd done anything wrong.
"...You feeling alright Dee?"
Dina started and raised an eyebrow at Lucy, who'd almost seemed to pop into existence in her peripheral. She sighed, but nodded, "I'm fine Lucy. It's…"
"I guess it's just been a long time." She said, shrugging as she gazed around the room. For a moment the scene shifted to another era-Lana replaced with Uncle Stitch, showing Akela around the house, Minerva swapped out for Heat and Kixx...even K'rtz'n talking with Leilani on the couch ever so briefly brought up an image of Aunt Nani having a talk with Belle.
She blinked, and jumped to the present.
Lucy was still watching her, an eyebrow raised at how distant her response sounded, "Well, alright…" She cast a glance towards the hallway before turning back to Dina, "You can tell me if it's about-"
"It is."
Lucy sucked in a breath, "Ah."
"You should probably go and talk with Akela given…" She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. "The rest of us'll still be here when you get back."
Dina sighed, claws closing around the handle of her cane as she stood, "We've been pretty obvious about this, haven't we?"
"I'll say, both of you have been really quiet ever since they touched down."
Dina nodded as she began to make her way towards the hall.
Just upstairs, in the first door across the hall, Akela felt lucid as he floated pensively in his idle Surveyor. The familiar bedroom enveloped his brain in the same soothing, wistful waves as the beginning of a deep, dream-filled sleep. Although he was alone, he could hear a choir of echoes from the room's old occupants. He could also see their ghosts everywhere he looked. They had long since moved on to other worlds and other lives, yet they had somehow remained right here, waiting for him over the decades.
His Surveyor stood tall and rigid at the center of the right-hand wall. He remembered the spacious water tank where he had been given his first new home, back when his mind was in that strange, surreal, unsettling space between Zorek and Akela. He had long since forgotten the piercing agony of all the tubes and needles hooked up to him in his infancy as Zorek's spare body. However, the cool, smooth sensation of a wide tank all to himself, with all the space he could want to stretch his tentacles, was impossible to forget. There had even been enough room for one of his new cousins to join him. He chuckled at the memory of Auntie Victoria sinking to the bottom with him, blowing clusters of bubbles to the surface. Bubbles rose to the top of his Surveyor's tank as if sent there across time by Auntie Victoria.
The bookshelf had changed, but Akela couldn't quite pinpoint how. More than a few titles failed to ring any bells in his mind; he couldn't tell if the new ones were replacements or simply new additions. He could, of course, remember every afternoon spent snuggled between his Uncles Daniel and Chopsuey, listening intently as Dan regaled him with stories from Earth's most vivid imaginations. Upon a second glance at the bookshelf, he noticed a few missing titles, including Uncle Dan's favorite dictionary. He felt a clutch of sadness until he remembered that all the missing titles were in his little hut aboard the Aumakua - one of his Uncles' final gifts to him.
He ordered his Surveyor to turn and sit on the bed. For a moment, he was frustrated that, between him and his Surveyor, the only one that couldn't directly sit on the bed was also the only one who would actually care for it. Then every drop of his frustration flushed out of him as he remembered his father, mother, and aunt. He could see them in front of him, their silver fur restored to their full blue and pink color, and Auntie Lilo's hair gone from white to nightly black. He could not remember if he was seeing them as they were on his first or last night in this room, or any other one of the hundreds he had spent here. Perhaps he was only remembering a dream he had once had, but he knew that he had seen them like this before.
He could hear them singing; it was too familiar for him to have made it up.
Although I've searched myself, it's always someone else I see.
He focused on them. He strained to do so, but even at his greatest effort, the back of Zorek's head kept creeping into his home.
The floorboards of the old house had been carefully maintained over the years, but the occasional creak still echoed in Dina's ears as she made her way up the stairs; despite the earlier push from Lucy, Dina still couldn't help but feel a knot in her stomach as she reached the door to Daveigh's room.
She took a deep breath before knocking on the door. "Akela? It's me Dina-can I come in?"
There was a delay in his answer, almost as if all the waiting the two of them would normally endure between their letters were compressed into a few seconds.
"Of course, Dina," Akela's deep, telepathic voice echoed in her mind. "It is your home, after all."
There was no one in view, but Dina still found herself nodding before she gingerly opened the door, nudging it further ajar with her cane. Upon seeing Akela seated on the bed, she instantly made her way up to him, though stopping short of seating herself on the bed.
A few more seconds of silence passed, though somewhat more easily than before.
"Everyone seems to be having a good time," Akela eventually said.
Dina cast a glance downstairs, "They are. We made sure to stock up given all the new arrivals. Speaking of which," She angled her head up towards him, seeing the same distant gaze as she supposed Lucy had seen, "I...read the last part of the letter."
A faint bubbling sound drifted from Akela's tank as if in response to her words. Akela himself offered little more than a telepathic hum at first.
"I wish I hadn't written that," he said. "It was after midnight. I was exhausted, angry, and depressed. You don't deserve to have all that dropped on you."
Dina sighed, blue eyes narrowing at the mention of the visit, "I don't think I can blame you. You're not the only one who visited their creator after they were put away, but Zorek..."
"I keep thinking…" Akela said. "All of our cousins could change. Jumba could change, so could Hamsterviel, even the Man Who Sold the World. What was Zorek missing that they all had? Was there even anything? I just…" His tentacles folded in front of his eyes while his Surveyor remained rigid.
Dina cast a somber glance out the window of the room, "...There are people who don't change. I think Zorek may just be one of them; he has it in him to do so, but from what I've seen, he doesn't believe he was wrong at all."
"You're right." Akela sank to the bottom of his tank, nearly vanishing from his window to the world beyond his Surveyor.
"But maybe I was wrong to spend so much time on him despite that."
"I don't think so. It's still important to try regardless." Dina said, "Zorek refusing to learn reflects more on him than you."
"Of course...And I know our ohana said that I don't have to be Zorek, but…" A tentacle wandered up to his delicate cephalopod cranium.
"If I didn't have to be Zorek, then why did he?"
A heavy silence fell over the room; even the echoes of conversation downstairs seemed to cease at Akela's question.
Dina tried to search for something to say; in their younger years, there would have been an easier answer to that question. Things were simpler back then, at least, from their perspective. In reality, their parents and relatives had likely struggled with the same questions when it came to Zorek, and now it was their turn to do the same.
It was then when her eye caught something resting just beneath the window; a ukulele that was, by now, nearly twice their ages. It'd been carefully maintained over the years; even with a century and a half past, it looked as though it had arrived from Deforestator's shop within the week.
A column of sighing bubbles wavered through Akela's tank.
"Well…" Dina sighed, "I think…that may have just been the way things turned out. I'm not sure if either of us should try and make sense of it. And besides," She gestured a claw towards the ukulele, "We'll only be visiting for so long. I think we should try and make the best of it; maybe let him go for a moment? It might do you some good."
Akela rose back into view of his window. He smiled the best smile an octopus could give at the sight of the ukulele.
"Of course," he said. "Why don't you pick out a tune? Surprise me."
Dina chuckled as she stepped up to the ukulele, gently taking it in her hands. It'd been a bit since she'd held a string instrument; it was largely thanks to her claws, but years of making them had long since alleviated any fears about breaking them. Still, Dina couldn't help but hold her uncle's ukulele squarely in her palms as she returned to Akela.
She retracted her claws as much as she could before strumming the first line.
"Her Majesty's a pretty nice girl, but she doesn't have a lot to say…"
Akela joined in on the second, his telepathic echo as soft and resonant and the soothing strings.
"Her Majesty's a pretty nice girl, but she changes from day to day,
"I wanna tell her that I love her a lot, but I've gotta get a belly full of wine,
"Her Majesty's a pretty nice girl, and someday I'm gonna make her mine…"
Dina finished off the last line, her high voice trailing off at the final word. She harmonized perfectly with Akela's voice - the voice singing only for her.
"Someday I'm gonna make her mine…"