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Kenai finally understood the meaning of love by becoming a bear. He used to think that he’d lost his humanity in order to understand.
Could he even be considered a human though, when he committed such atrocities? He’d murdered for no true reason and ended up making Koda an orphan. For absolutely no reason.
No, he was now more human as a bear than he’d ever been before.
His brothers — both his older ones and his rascal little one, a new addition to the family — taught him what unconditional love was.
What belonging actually meant.
To get there, though… It took so, so many wrong turns. The worst mistake of his life was the sin he committed against Koda’s mother. Something he would never forget and absolutely could never forgive himself for — even if she and Koda did. He could never.
Even so, he needed to be there for Koda. There was no time for pity parties or immaturity; he had already done plenty of that. He needed to be there for Koda.
And there he’d been. For both his brothers.
When he chose to become a bear and got his totem (the irony so fitting, but also a bit cruel), he thought he understood love inside out.
Turns out, he didn’t.
With time, he learned to see so much more of it. Not just his own love to his brothers but the love that existed all around him. From the birds who only migrated together and mated for life to the squirrels who made sure to share all nuts with each other, he saw now how deeply love was ingrained into every single being.
He’d been so blind as a human, only focusing on his own needs and dreams. He was ashamed that he didn’t even think of his brothers’ own lives and fears and dreams. Love, yes. But his brand of love back then was selfish: always taking, asking, demanding, screaming for attention. Barely ever giving. Much less listening.
It’d always been just about him.
Even though he swore he’d be as selfless now, with Koda, as his own brothers had been with him, he found out he wasn’t quite there yet. There was still quite a bit of growing up to do.
And Koda wasn’t one to be predictable. He’d never be, the little rascal. And his little brother’s maturity surprised him so much every single day. Though Koda was so much younger, he had a level of emotional maturity that Kenai still had a way to go. The older brother learned with his little brother.
His pride sometimes blinded him and made him feel uncomfortable, even ashamed of the situation, until Denahi himself would remind him that this was natural. His own older brother learned with Kenai, after all.
At least Denahi didn’t need to turn into an animal to learn a lesson. And neither did Koda.
Kenai was learning daily. Koda was really incredible: he understood when Kenai was sad and needed time for himself, never blaming him. Always so forgiving, and about everything: Koda understood his homesickness for his tribe, helped him learn the bear ways, endured Kenai’s little fits — that were honestly worse than Koda, who was an actual kid — and so much more.
Most of all, Koda didn’t blame Kenai for his mother’s death. That love and sadness would always be in the cub’s heart. The loss of a mother, especially one as loving as his, was a scar that would never disappear. It was so visible when Koda remembered her and missed her — which was daily.
And Kenai hated, hated himself for it. He’d never forgive himself for taking her life. But he couldn’t let this hatred and resentment impede him from living his life; from learning and growing.
He owed it to Koda, his mother, Sitka and Denahi. He owed to all of them. They were the reason he was still alive and now seeing, understanding it all.
Becoming a bear had been a gift.
So Kenai was always the one behind, trying to follow up and understand his brothers, the oldest and the youngest one. And that was ok because thanks to his siblings, the process was fun, heartwarming and freeing. Kenai never felt chastised (rather, he was the one who had to work on that) and he appreciated each and every moment with his brothers.
Kenai learned to appreciate the little things. To find love in the seemingly unimportant moments in daily life. Such as Koda’s hilarious little snort every time he’d laugh or talk in his sleep, or his expert berry picking and storytelling skills that enthralled all animals; Denahi’s trying really hard to act imposing and then immediately tripping over air, his theatrics over everything, and his rare serious moments. All precious, all important.
Kenai thought he’d learned all there was to know about love and fully mastered his totem.
And, of course, the second we tend to think that, life shows us that’s not quite the case.
Thankfully, no more deaths this time to teach lessons. On the contrary, the exact opposite happened.
He never thought his heart could become fuller, but it did: when he sees his nieces and nephews — both human and bear sides of the family.
Koda is surprisingly the first one to expand his family. Perhaps not that surprising, as he’s always been so popular and all around beloved by all animals — from the squirrels in nearby trees to the humans in the village. What was unexpected, though, was how he fell in love. Everyone expected a couple of chatty bears, but turns out Siku was the quiet type… and had little patience for Koda’s stories. She not only gave him less attention than a mosquito, but her words (as few as they were) were always sharp and cutting. It turns out that Koda has in spades in quantity; she has in quality of vocabulary. And from then on, Koda was hooked.
If Koda had been a human, Kenai bets his left paw that Koda’s token would’ve been patience. There’s no question on his mind, it’d absolutely be patience. That was the biggest challenge he’d battled with from his cub days and, while no master at it, growing up taught him to become calmer, more patient. Siku’s attention turned his way once that happened. And soon enough, Kenai was an uncle.
His older brother Denahi losing to the little brother bear would always be one of Kenai’s favorite jokes. The wisdom totem was still not something his older brother quite got, truly. Not yet. But the current Denahi was leaps ahead of who he’d been (and so was Kenai). The lack of romance in his life was less due to a lack of interest on his part and more due to his focus on learning the shaman ways. It still baffled Kenai that his silly jokester of a brother was being trained to become the village’s next spiritual leader. Tanana had absolute faith in Denahi, even though pretty much everyone in the village wasn’t quite sure yet.
Then again, who was Kenai to judge a totem choice or, worse, lack of maturity related to it? Even he knew to keep quiet on hypocrisy by now.
Life made sure to show him he still had much, much to learn. And he was grateful for it. For he’d never have known how much fuller his heart could get. How much more love he could still experience, not in just one, but two different interconnected worlds. When Koda’s cubs are horsing around and climbing up his back, demanding human world stories while also not stopping to even breathe once while chatting happily — clearly something they got from his father.
Denahi’s children, ironically, seemed more like bears than humans at times. They slept close to Kenai on cold nights, content and feeling protected among fur. During hibernation season, the children would cry and ask Denahi how many days until the bear uncles would be back. They refused to learn how to fight bears and never, ever held weapons against them or close to their view. Kenai wasn’t ignorant; clearly, his nephew and niece knew how to fight and hunt, for how could humans survive in such a world if not? But he appreciated the gesture of not wanting to show that to his bear uncles.
Kenai had the true luxury of having two families in different worlds. How happy and proud he felt of both his brothers. Nothing was missing. This was all he needed in life.
Kenai swore: once he joined the spirit lights filling the night sky, he’d be right there by Sitka and Koda’s mother's side to protect and guide those who remained — just as fiercely as they did with him.
It was only fair to return the favor to the next generation.
Touching his wooden token with a paw, now rough with age and the tiring of nature, Kenai smiled. Gratitude filled his heart.
How lucky was he that he got the best totem of all: love.