Moana stood, still as stone, in the clearing behind the large ceremonial hut. It was beginning to rain. Her mother, Sina, choked back sobs beside her as the pyre was lit, quickly obscuring her father's body from view. The villagers all wailed and cried around her, but Moana's face was as still as carved marble. She could not, would not break; she feared that she wouldn't be able to come up for air if she allowed the floodgates to open. Despite those around her, she was certain she had never felt more alone in her life. Her chieftess headdress weighed heavily on her head, nearly as heavily as the new responsibility that was placed on her shoulders all too soon.

As the rain gradually grew harder, the flames grew higher. Moana felt a crack forming in her chiseled disposition. As if right on cue, she felt a large, warm hand on her shoulder. "I'm here, Moana." While the voice was uncharacteristically solemn, Moana would recognize it anywhere. Relief flooded through her, and the crack opened wider until tears flowed freely. Without turning, she leaned into him, sobs beginning to escape her throat. "You . . . came . . . " she choked out, before completely dissolving. Maui put his other hand on her other shoulder, her back still to him, wordlessly holding her steady as the flames burned on.

He always had a way of knowing when she needed him most.

The ceremonial feast that followed was a solemn affair, although not without pockets of laughter. As much as the day was a day of mourning for the late chief, it was also a celebration of his life. The villagers were all telling stories of Tui's youth; if Moana had not been drowning in her sorrow, she would have delighted in hearing the tales. While Tui was the picture of responsibility in his older years, he sounded almost as rebellious as Moana in his youth. Even Sina's tear-stained face cracked into a smile now and again.

Maui sat in his usual place of honor at Moana's side. While he was not a constant occupant of Motonui, he visited often enough for the villagers to be accustomed to his massive presence. He always made it a point to visit on feast days and Moana's birthday, among the other random visits here and there, and each visit was always a joyous affair. Moana would run down the shore to greet him, trapping him in a hug, chattering away to make up for lost time. But today, Moana had hardly spoken a word to him. To anyone, in fact. Maui cast Moana a sidelong glance; her silence was disconcerting. She had regained composure soon after the ceremonial pyre burning, her face relapsing into its mask of stone. Her face was still flushed and eyes still red from crying. It broke Maui's heart to see her like this. As Maui observed her, he noted that her breathing was shallow and her eyes wide.

"Need some air?" She finally turned to look at him and nodded, quickly rising from her position on the floor. She staggered a bit, and Maui quickly grabbed her arm to steady her. "You okay?"

"Yes," she croaked, wriggling her arm from his grasp. "Please, let's go."

Maui followed her away from the ceremonial hut and toward the ocean. Moana made a beeline for the sand, stopping short just before the water's edge. She stood stock-still, staring out across the sea, her silhouette illuminated by moonlight. Maui kept a respectful distance, watching her warily, waiting for some sort of reaction.

As he observed, it was not lost on him how the years had slowly changed his dearest friend. Seven years had passed since their adventure to restore Te Fiti's heart, and they had been kind to her (too kind, he'd had to admit. He was finding it harder and harder to divert his gaze from her on his visits). Moana was no longer the carefree teenager he once knew. Her face had matured and her figure had filled out. With each visit, Maui saw the changes more and more; they were bittersweet. He couldn't help but be taken in by her beauty, but also wished that time would move a little bit slower. He was so often reminded that human years were fleeting.

"I can't do it," she whispered. If not for Maui's demigod-level hearing, he would have missed it.

"Do what?" he took a step closer to her.

Still facing the ocean, she murmured, "I'm not ready. This wasn't supposed to happen so soon. I thought I had more time." She finally turned to look at Maui, a hint of the young girl he had known visible in her eyes, breaking through her regal visage. "What am I going to do?" her voice cracked.

Maui hugged her, gently smoothing her hair as she cried. "You will lead," he said softly, "your people love you, that's more than enough."

"Stay," she whispered, her face still buried in his chest.

Maui froze, ceasing his ministrations. "I can't."

Moana abruptly broke back from their embrace. "No, you won't." Anger etched itself deep into her features, traces of hurt visible in her eyes. "Stay with me."

"Moana," Maui growled warningly, "You know I can't."

"No!" Moana exclaimed, backing even further away, jabbing her finger in his direction. "Don't you speak to me like I'm a child! You come and go as you please, and I'm left here on the shore, waiting for you to return!" Maui stood shell-shocked; stunned by Moana's outburst. Moana continued, her voice shaking, angry tears falling down her cheeks. "I'm not some silly teenager anymore, I'm sure you're aware." She balled up her fists, an attempt to steady herself. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. "I see how you look at me."

Maui's face flushed bright red. So she had noticed his stares. For once in his life, he was at a loss for words.

"Don't tell me you don't feel anything for me." Maui remained silent, sighing as he turned his back to her. He couldn't bear it. He couldn't do this to her, not now, not in her current state. The lie was on his lips, he was ready to tell her that she was just a mortal, that in the grand scheme of things she was nothing to him. But he couldn't say it; not only could he not lie to her, he could not lie to himself.

"Good-bye, Moana," he said without turning toward her. He knew that if he looked at her one last time, he would break. He transformed into a hawk, taking flight before she could close the gap between them and break his resolve.

As he flew out to sea, he heard her call out his name, the sound all but breaking him in two. Still, he continued, knowing that he was doing what was best for her. She may not realize it now, but she would see.

He would not take away her chance at a normal life, her chance at happiness.

And he would not stay and watch her die.