Chapter Text
Maui is many things. Shapeshifter. Demigod of the wind and sea. Hero to all. Storyteller. Trickster. Thief. Slayer of monsters. Secretly terrible fisherman. Friend. Lover.
And now soon-to-be husband to the chief of Motunui.
That's definitely a new one.
If someone had told Maui five years ago that someday he would end up marrying the little curly-haired twerp who had washed up on his island prison and tried to browbeat him into restoring the heart of Te Fiti, he would have laughed until his sides ached. And then, of course he would have punched that person in the face, because five years ago, Moana Waialiki was just a kid. A pure, innocent kid, whom he could never think of in... that way.
As it turned out, he was wrong. If Moana had just stayed a kid, everything would have been so much simpler, but no. She had to grow up into a beautiful, feisty, courageous, irresistible woman, and torment Maui with every mischievous glance, every sway of her skirt, every toss of her long, dark hair. Being immortal didn't make him any less immune to her effortless charm and grace. It only made it all the more excruciating.
Because how could he ever act on his feelings? He was her best friend, her mentor, her partner in crime. She trusted him. They had been through everything together, had saved each other's lives multiple times. If she knew how often he dreamed about pulling her to him and kissing her full lips and sun-kissed skin, she would be terrified, repulsed. He would lose her. And he could not lose her.
So he said nothing, did nothing, never gave any hint of his true thoughts, while Moana took up the mantle of chief and led her people on voyages to other lands. And Maui stood by, ever supportive, content to be her friend for as long as she needed him. He knew it wouldn't last forever, so he cherished every single moment they had together. The pain was worth it.
That is, it was until she got engaged.
He should have seen it coming, but the sad truth was that he had been living in denial. Of course she would have to get married. An ali'i was expected to produce an heir and continue the family line, and Moana was no different. And yet for some reason, she was. There was so much more to her than popping out babies. She was an adventurer, a wayfinder. She deserved more. She deserved everything.
But did her betrothed deserve her? How could he? He didn't even know her. How could he possibly appreciate the unstoppable force of nature that was Moana Waialiki? Did he know that her favorite fruit was the ulu, or that she loved to stand in the rain, or that sometimes when she thought she was alone, she would dance by the water, her movements as fluid as the tides themselves, and her eyes would shine with tears for her grandmother, who used to dance with her and had taught her every step? Of course not.
But Maui did.
And that realization gave him hope. He knew Moana better than some boring, insipid matai from a neighboring island ever could. He knew her every mood, knew what made her tick. He just knew he could make her happy... if she would let him.
So he kidnapped her.
Well, not really. Using gentle persuasion, he threw the chief of Motunui over his shoulder on the night before her wedding and tossed her into her boat, and on the open ocean under a star-filled sky, he offered his heart to her — ancient and battered and abused as it was. And to his eternal surprise and elation, she accepted it. She accepted him. Loved him. Wanted him.
Part of him still wonders if she isn't just a bit crazy. Ultimately, he decides that he doesn't care.
Weddings on Motunui are a momentous occasion, and the wedding of the high chief even more so. The last thing Maui wants is to screw it up, so he has made sure to do his homework. What he learned was initially disheartening. According to the customs of Moana's people, the groom is expected to present gifts to the family of the bride, and vice-versa — traditionally in the form of ornate tapa mats woven by their relatives — as a demonstration of their unity. That's all well and good, but there's a slight problem with that: Maui has no family.
When he first realized he had nothing to give Moana's mother, a sense of shame and... failure washed over him. In the years he has known her, Sina has been kind, understanding, and infinitely patient with him. Though he is much, much older than her, she has always treated him like a wayward but beloved child. When he formally asked her for Moana's hand, she fixed him with a mock glare, asked him what had taken him so long, and then pulled him into a tight hug, causing inconvenient tears to sting his eyes. How could he take her only daughter, and give her nothing in return?
Both Moana and Sina assured him that he didn't need to give them any gifts, that all the things he has done for humans in the past is more than enough. To Maui, all that sounded like was a pathetic excuse to show up empty-handed to his own wedding. He wracked his brain for days, trying to think of something that would please his future family and properly convey how much they mean to him. And then suddenly it came to him in a flash of insight.
It was... unconventional. Maybe a bit over-the-top. Then again, those two things are exactly what Maui is all about.
Now, on the day of their wedding, Maui finds himself wondering for the thousandth time if this is the right thing to do. He has no qualms or second thoughts about marrying Moana; he loves her more than he's ever loved any living being, mortal or immortal. He is fully aware that he'll be devastated when she is gone, but he can't resist seizing this chance at happiness. He wants Moana for whatever achingly brief time they might have together. When it comes right down to it, he's always been a selfish person.
He sits in the middle of a clearing, dressed in a tapa skirt that has been dyed red — the color of royalty. Surrounding him in a circle are the villagers of Motunui, also seated, their faces shining with excitement and expectation. Beneath his feet is a long woven carpet, which stretches from the village square all the way up to the chief's fale. At the other end of it, he knows, his bride is waiting.
At last the signal is given, and a figure emerges from the fale. Moana.
She is wearing a wrap-around dress made of tapa cloth, with a long train, and she is bedecked in shells and flowers. A mother-of-pearl crown sits atop her head. Despite the seriousness of the occasion, she can't quite seem to contain her joy. The radiance of her smile would put the treasures of Tamatoa to shame.
She walks down the long carpet, accompanied by an entourage of maidens, who are also wreathed in flowers. They all bear loads of fine tapas in their arms, which they bestow at Maui's feet. Moana remains standing at his side while the young women walk back to the fale and return with more mats. They repeat this process many times, and Maui makes sure to check his typically impatient attitude. This is an important custom, and he is honored by it. The least he can do is show some respect.
Finally the bride's dowry is assembled, and Moana sits down beside Maui. Her tiny hand slips into his and gives it a squeeze.
Now it's his turn. Here goes nothing.
Maui releases Moana's hand and stands up, taking a deep breath. "As you all obviously know already," he says, addressing the villagers, "I'm a demigod. And you can probably guess what that means. Long on adoring fans, short on unfortunate relatives to sponge off of." Snorts of laughter greet him at these words. "So basically, I'm afraid I don't have many worldly goods to lavish on my bride and her family."
His cocky smile falters. "And... I feel bad about that. Because they've given me everything. Not just this impressive dowry..." He gestures to the enormous pile at his feet. "But they've given me a home, and a sense of... belonging. And I haven't felt that in a long time. I haven't felt that ever, actually." He clears his throat and turns to Moana, who is beaming up at him. "So thank you."
Her lips silently form the words You're welcome, and he laughs.
"Anyway," he resumes, as soon as he has collected himself, "I thought to myself, 'What could I possibly give this amazing, fierce, ridiculously awesome chief that she doesn't already have?' And then it came to me. What does Moana love more than anything? More than wayfinding, more than her seashell collection, even more than yours truly?" He looks around. "Anyone? Give up?
"You," he tells his audience. "She loves you. And what better way to get on my bride's good side than to do something nice for her people? So that's why I petitioned the gods last night, and they agreed to bestow their eternal blessing upon Motunui. All your crops will produce four times a year, and the waters around your island will be teeming with fish for... I guess until the end of time, so..." He gives an awkward shrug, his cheeks growing warm. "So there you go."
A stunned silence steals over the gathering. Moana gapes up at him with unconcealed shock, and Sina wears a similar expression. And then the crowd erupts into cheers and applause. Suddenly Maui can't hold the people back. They surround him like a rising tide, overwhelming him with embraces and words of gratitude and affection. And Maui falls apart. These are not just faceless mortals thanking him for the breeze or the coconuts or any of the other things he did for them thousands of years ago. These are people he has come to care for. He knows their names. The revelation that they genuinely care for him in return is more than his damaged heart can handle.
He laughs through his tears as he futilely attempts to wrench himself free. "Okay, okay," he says, his voice still shaking with emotion, "calm down, guys. We haven't even gotten married yet. And by the way, don't think this means you have an excuse to get lazy and stop wayfinding. Because I will definitely smite you. Hey, why are you laughing?"
The crowd settles down, and as Maui wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, he sees Moana gazing up at him in pure adoration, her own eyes shining with moisture. Thank the gods, he thinks with a decidedly stupid grin. I did something right.
The ceremony resumes, led by the village priest. At his instructions, they take turns laying wreaths of flowers around each other's necks. When Sina comes forward with a lei for each of them, she gives Maui such a "You done good, kid" look that he nearly loses it all over again.
And then, with surprisingly little pageantry, Maui is married to Moana: chief of Motunui, friend of the ocean, heroine of his heart. He's pretty sure he doesn't deserve her, but that will never stop him from trying.
Afterward, the villagers lift up Moana above their heads in celebration. They even try to lift Maui, although it becomes swiftly evident that it is an impossible task. Instead, he transforms himself into a chicken, and the people throw him high into the air. The sound of Moana's helpless laughter is a memory he will treasure always.
Soon the wedding feast begins, and the older children of the village bring out heaps and heaps of mouth-watering food. Knowing he will have to perform a dance later, Maui tries his best not to over-indulge, but he probably goes a little overboard on the pork laulau anyway. And the breadfruit. And everything else. Luckily, he has a superhuman metabolism. Or at least, that's what he tells himself.
Moana disappears briefly from his side, only to return wearing a different set of skirts with a shorter train. Accompanied by her mother and some of the other women, she performs a graceful dance, and Maui cannot take his eyes off his new wife. He is enraptured by her every movement. How can one little human be the embodiment of such godly perfection?
He's so mesmerized that he forgets that he's up next. Joined by the younger men of the village, he performs a boisterous, fast-paced dance that they were kind enough to teach him, and miraculously he manages not to embarrass himself. From the slightly goofy grin on Moana's face as he resumes his seat beside her, he's guessing his performance was adequate.
The celebrations seem to go on forever, melting into an endless hazy blur of feasting, singing, and dancing. All Maui can focus on with any sort of clarity is Moana's hand in his, warm and solid and real.
He begins to think the festivities will never wind down, but eventually they do, and Maui has one last surprise for his wife. Transforming into his giant hawk form, he tells Moana to climb onto his back. She looks askance at him, but does as requested, holding onto his feathers tightly. Taking off as smoothly as possible, he flies her around the island a couple times, enjoying the sound of her delighted laughter, before landing gently in a secluded clearing at the top of one of Motunui's smaller bluffs. In the middle of the clearing is a little fale with a grass roof, decorated with flowers and shells. Everything is dusted with a fine layer of brilliant, shimmering dust, which causes it to glow faintly.
Moana walks up to it slowly, her expressive face scrunched into a look of confusion. "What..." She reaches out and touches the substance, rubbing it between her fingers. "What is this?"
Maui returns to his human form and saunters over to her, unable to suppress a smug smile. "If Maui can lasso the sun and pull up the sky, he can scoop up a few handfuls of stardust for his bride."
For once she doesn't roll her eyes at his bluster. Instead, she stands on her toes, leaning in for a kiss. Maui gladly obliges.
"Thank you," she says against his lips.
"You're w—" She raises her eyebrows, and he catches himself. "...One-hundred percent deserving of all of it, my mighty chieftain."
With a chuckle, Moana reaches up and brushes her fingertips down the slope of his nose, leaving a glowing trail of stardust. He crosses his eyes to look at it, and she laughs again and brings her lips back to his.
Maui's arms move to hold her close, his pulse quickening at the sensation of her warm skin against his. Her hands gently caress his face, before sinking into his hair. He feels her short fingernails lightly graze his scalp, and he shivers.
She pulls away to rest her forehead on his chest, next to the tattoo of herself. "I thought my people would never go to sleep," she murmurs, fingers still tangled in his hair.
Maui's laugh is a low rumble. "Motunui certainly knows how to get down," he replies. "I like that."
Under a canopy of stars, he removes her mother-of-pearl crown and sets it aside, followed by her many garlands of flowers, until only her two necklaces remain — her grandmother's pāua pendant and the string of shells he made for her. Then he kneels down and allows her to take the leis from around his neck. As her fingertips — Moana's fingertips — boldly begin tracing his tattoos one by one, his breath hitches in his throat. This can't be real. There's no way he could ever be this lucky.
"I love you so much, Mo."
The words leave his lips almost involuntarily in a breathy exhalation, and the truth behind them hits him like a physical blow. He loves her with a depth and intensity he has never felt before, and quite frankly, it terrifies him.
Moana senses his sudden emotion and, because she knows him so well, relieves his panic with a little levity. Leaning back slightly, she tosses her hair jokingly over her shoulder. "I don't blame you," she says with a haughty smirk. "I am pretty awesome."
Maui can't help but chuckle. "Yeah, you are," he says fondly.
Getting a mischievous idea, he stands up and pounds one of the little fale's poles with his fist, causing stardust to fall on their heads in a coruscating shower. Laughing, Moana scoops up some of the dust that has fallen and advances toward Maui, glowing palms outstretched and fingers wiggling.
"Oh, no, you don't," he warns, holding up his arms and backing away from her. She's too quick, though, and before he can dodge her, she ducks under his arm and slaps him on the stomach, leaving two glittering handprints behind.
Maui grins. "Oh, it's on now."
Reaching up, he sweeps both hands over the grass roof of the hut, coating them with luminous dust. Moana shrieks and breaks into a run, and he chases after her, the sound of their laughter filling the still night air. Soon they're both out of breath and covered head-to-toe in stardust. All in all, not a bad way to spend their first night as a married couple.
Smiling, Maui takes his wife in his arms and kisses her slowly, thoroughly, running his hands through her hair and over her skin. She melts bonelessly against him, and the soft little sound of contentment she makes sends a thrill through him. She trusts him so completely that it both humbles and fills him with pride at the same time.
Eventually, they break apart, and he takes her by the hand and leads her into the fale. As he sits down on the mats, she immediately settles her warm weight in his lap, and it feels like she was always supposed to be there.
Moana bites her lip, gazing at him from beneath long black lashes. Her hair is mussed and shining with stardust, a faint flush staining her cheeks. It dawns on Maui that she's never looked more beautiful.
"When... did you first realize you were in love with me?" she asks.
The question is unexpected, and he's not sure he should tell her the answer.
"Uhh... I don't remember," he says lamely.
Moana arches an eyebrow at him. "Wow," she deadpans. "You're literally thousands of years old. How have you never learned how to lie more convincingly?"
He shoots her an exasperated glare, and she pokes his leg with her foot. "Come on, tell me," she persists. "Please?"
Maui sighs. "Okay, okay." Damn, he really can't deny her anything. "It was... when your father died."
Moana goes very still in his arms. "Maui, if that's supposed to be a joke..."
Too late, he realizes how his answer must have sounded. He quickly takes her hand in his. "Hear me out, Curly," he says gently. "Look, we both know I'm not any good at this whole... 'feelings' thing. It's my one weakness. Well, one of two."
He squeezes her hand, coaxing a reluctant smile from her. "But I'd never joke about that," he continues. "Your dad was..." He swallows a sudden lump in his throat. "Let's just say that even if he'd lived forever, there's no way I could have ever repaid him for everything he gave me."
Moana softens at this. "Sorry," she says, stroking his arm. "I guess I'm just not seeing the connection between my dad passing away, and... you falling in love with me."
"I promise there is one," he assures her. "If you really want to hear it."
She nods.
Maui plucks her from his lap and sets her beside him on the mat, still holding her hand. Then he takes a deep breath and begins.
"I'm not going to lie to you, Moana," he says. "I'd... noticed you for a while. It started around the time you got these." He lightly taps the tattoos that adorn her thighs. "Every time I looked at you, it would hit me that you weren't that crazy kid who tried to drag me by the ear all those years ago. You were a woman. And a brave, brilliant, impossibly beautiful woman, at that." He shakes his head. "But you were still Moana. My best friend. And for the longest time, I couldn't... reconcile those two facts. So I tried to push my feelings away. Like I always do." He quirks a wry smile. "I got pretty good at it, too. Until..."
He trails off, and Moana nudges him lightly. "Until?"
His expression darkens. "Until your people landed on Māhinamotu."
At first it looked like paradise. Moana's people had been sailing for weeks without sighting a trace of land when at last they saw it: a crescent-shaped island with a bay protected by a reef, not big enough to pose any danger to the boats. A quick aerial reconnaissance from Maui in his hawk form confirmed that it was inhabited. They landed and began exploring, and it wasn't long until the locals came to greet them. They proved to be warm, friendly, and hospitable almost to the point of being annoying. The people of Motunui were welcomed with open arms.
The chief and the heads of the tribe's families invited Moana's father Tui to the big communal fale, where they remained for hours. Sina was invited by the chief's wife on a tour of the village, while Moana stayed behind and listened to the villagers' stories, fascinated by the similarities between them and her own people.
Maui had tagged along on that particular voyage, having no pressing business and wanting to see how his favorite wayfinder was doing. As was his habit, though, he made himself scarce when the actual meeting of the tribes took place. It had only been four years since he and Moana (mostly Moana) restored Te Fiti's heart and saved the world, and a lot of folks weren't too happy about him stealing the heart and cursing them all in the first place. Besides, there was something about Māhinamotu that just felt... off. It wasn't anything he could put into words, but it made him inexplicably uneasy.
Instead, he explored the island in his various animal forms in an attempt to keep his shapeshifting powers sharp. He preferred staying in his human form more and more lately. The vain demigod in him was forced to admit that part of the reason was that he enjoyed the flustered look on Moana's face whenever he flexed his muscles. Of course, he only did it to tease her. And of course, that wasn't the only reason. The little kids in the village liked to ride on his shoulders, and try to draw his tattoos in the dirt, and—
The kids.
That was what was wrong with this island. What had put that queasy feeling in his gut without knowing its cause.
There were no children on Māhinamotu.
Quickly, Maui changed into his hawk form and took to the air, circling the island over and over in growing apprehension as he searched for the last thing he wanted to find. And then he spotted it, at the top of a sand dune overlooking the ocean. An icy fist closed around his heart at the sight, confirming his worst fears. It was a graveyard, made up of dozens of burial mounds, the majority of them small.
Never in his life had he felt less satisfaction in being right.
He flew back to the village at his top speed and returned to his human form, searching frantically for Moana. He found her at one of the taro fields with some of the local women. It was all he could do not to pick her up and throw her back onto her boat himself.
"Moana," he said breathlessly, taking her by the arm. "Gather your people. We have to leave. Right now."
The young woman's dark brows drew together. "Why? What's going on?"
Maui leaned in close to her and lowered his voice. "You're all in danger," he whispered.
Moana drew back in surprise. "What?"
Abruptly, Maui realized the village women were staring at them in open curiosity. Making some feeble apology, he drew Moana away to a more secluded spot. "I'm not kidding, Mo," he said quietly. "This island is dangerous."
She rolled her eyes. "You're just being paranoid," she replied. "The people here have been nothing but friendly to us. Look, they even gave me this." She held up her arm, displaying a bracelet of little striped cowrie shells.
In one swift motion, Maui tore it off her wrist and flung it far away.
"Maui!"
"Don't touch anything those people try to give you, understand?"
"What has gotten into you?" Moana demanded furiously.
"Listen to me," he said. "It's not their hospitality I'm worried about. It's their health. Look around. Haven't you noticed there's something off about this place?"
Moana gave an impatient shake of her head. "I don't—"
"Kids, Moana," he told her urgently. "There are no kids. And no old people, either."
She opened her mouth to reply, then paused, blinking. "...You're right," she said. "What does that mean?"
Maui barely heard her. Too late, his mind began putting together all the scraps of information it had collected and assembling it into a complete picture. All the signs were there, but he had been too stupid, too relaxed in his vigilance to see them. The missing children and elders. The gaunt frames and hollow cheeks of the adults. The slow, careful way they moved, as if they were in pain. The way they tried to conceal their coughs behind their hands or pieces of cloth.
"The kohi," he murmured, stomach twisting in dread.
Moana frowned. "The what?"
"It's a disease. I've seen it before, on other islands. It kills quickly, and it spreads even faster." As he spoke, Moana's eyes widened in alarm. "We have to get out of here," he told her. "Get your people to the boats."
She nodded quickly, but as she moved to leave, she stopped in her tracks. She turned toward him, her face a mask of fear. "My dad," she said. "He's been with the village chief all day."
"I'll get him. Just go!"
She took off at a sprint, and Maui dashed to the communal fale, where the two chiefs and the other prominent men of the village had been conversing all day. Without ceremony, he rushed in, ignoring the affronted gasps and exclamations triggered by his sudden arrival.
"Chief Tui," he said bluntly. "I need to talk to you right now."
Seated on a mat, Moana's father gave him a warning look from his place inside the great hut. "We are discussing important matters, Maui," he said, his calm voice holding a slight edge. "Can this wait?"
Under normal circumstances, Maui would be loathe to do anything to earn Tui's disapproval; in fact, he was just the slightest bit terrified of the man. But these were not normal circumstances.
"It really, really can't," he said firmly.
Tui held his gaze for one long moment before sighing. "Excuse me," he murmured in apology to the village men, rising to his feet and following Maui out of the fale.
Once outside, the chief of Motunui fixed him with a decidedly peeved glare. "Your decorum needs some work, Maui," he told him, folding his large arms over his chest. "Demigod or not, you can't just force your way into a meeting of chiefs. There are rules and customs that need to be respected."
"I realize that," Maui replied as respectfully as he could, "but this is urgent. This village is suffering from the kohi. It's already killed all of their children and elders. If you don't leave now, it will spread to your people."
As he spoke, he realized just how much the people of Motunui had come to mean to him. For the first time in his life, he had found a home and a family. He wasn't about to lose them. Especially Moana and her parents.
"We have to go," he said.
Tui took in his serious demeanor, the barely perceptible tremor in his voice. Then he nodded. "Very well," he answered. "I will make my excuses to the chief and the family heads."
Maui turned to leave, intending to gather up any of the people Moana had not yet tracked down, when Tui stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Maui," he said. "Thank you for the warning."
He swallowed. "Don't thank me yet."
It took longer than Maui would have liked, but soon the people were collected on the beach, and the boats were made ready. They pushed off into the bay, not even waiting for morning. Maui was sorry to make them leave after being at sea for so long, but his regret was outweighed by his relief at getting the hell off of that island of death. At least they would be all right.
His relief was short-lived.
To his growing despair, he began seeing the symptoms of the kohi spreading among the Motunui. Maui took it upon himself to quarantine all of the infected villagers on one boat, which he piloted himself — being a demigod, he was not affected by human illnesses. Beyond that, however, there was nothing else he could do for them. There was no known cure for the kohi. Too many times, he had seen the disease sweep through a village and take half of its population along with it.
He watched helplessly as the sick villagers grew worse and worse, their muscles wasting and their bodies wracked with fever. He watched as one life was snuffed out, then two, then three. And then one day, the unthinkable happened.
From the lead boat, he saw Moana waving frantically to him from atop the mast. Securing the rudder, he changed into his hawk form and flew quickly over to her. As he landed, Moana dropped to the deck beside him, her face pale and drawn. For a moment Maui feared she had caught the kohi, and the terror that seized him was unlike any he had ever experienced.
Instead, she just pointed to the thatched cabin amidships, where Sina knelt on the deck, holding Tui's head in her lap while he coughed blood into a cloth.
It took every effort Maui had not to break the foremast of the boat in half with his bare hands.
He brought Tui back to the infected boat, leaving the chief's distraught wife and daughter behind. Maui hated himself for separating Moana's family, but he could not risk losing her and Sina as well. He tried his best to make Tui and the others as comfortable as possible, but it was not enough — could never be enough. One by one, he watched villager after villager succumb to the illness, watched the life leave their frail mortal bodies. Every time he lowered one of them into the sea and let the waves take them away, he felt a new crack spread across his crumbling heart.
Soon Tui was the last one left. He was a strong man, but no mortal was stronger than the kohi. Maui knew he didn't have long. And it made him feel more powerless than he'd ever felt without his hook.
After days of watching Tui slip further and further away, Maui was busy trying to distract himself by trimming the sails for the millionth time when he heard the chief's voice calling weakly to him. In a heartbeat, he dropped the mainsheet line and knelt down beside him.
His skin was ashen, his cheeks hollow, but his hand as it grasped Maui's was still strong.
"Maui..."
"Yes, Chief." His throat felt like he'd swallowed a mouthful of sand.
Tui breathed shallowly, in and out, lungs rattling. "Take care of them," he rasped. "Sina. Moana. They will need you."
No, no, no. This was not happening. This was not Tui saying goodbye.
"I can't," Maui croaked, unable to look the chief in the eye. "I can't take care of anyone. I couldn't even take care of you." His eyes burned with tears of shame. "This is all my fault. If I'd seen the signs of the disease sooner—"
"Stop," Tui told him with a sudden fierce intensity. "You will not blame yourself for this. If it hadn't been for you, we would have lost many more lives. You saved my people, Maui. You saved my wife and daughter." A weak smile touched his pale lips. "Now accept my gratitude like the mighty demigod you are, and say 'You're welcome'."
Something halfway between a laugh and a sob escaped Maui's lips. Slowly, he shook his head. "You don't owe me anything," he said brokenly. "I'm... I'm so sorry, Tui."
He felt the chief's touch on his shoulder, attempting to pull him closer. Maui leaned down, and with the last of his strength, Tui drew him into a hongi, noses touching.
"Maui," he murmured. "You are one of the best men our island has ever known."
Tui died within sight of the island of Motunui. For the first time in over a millennium, Maui wept.
After the canoes reached Motunui, he meticulously washed himself off in the ocean before going to Moana and Sina. As he approached them without a word, they fell to the ground, and he knelt beside them and drew them both into his arms as they sobbed into his chest. There was nothing he could say to comfort them. There was nothing he could do at all, save one thing.
At Moana's behest, he prepared Tui's body for burial. He was the only one who could, since none of the villagers could go near it. He followed her instructions down to the last detail, knowing how important it was. He wrapped the chief in a red tapa and buried him on a bluff, overlooking the sea. The entire village assembled around his resting place, and the tulafale, the village orator, gave a speech detailing Tui's family history and his accomplishments in life. The people mourned for days. Even the ocean seemed to mourn him, its waves subdued and melancholy as they washed on the shore.
The villagers poured out gifts to Sina and Moana in the form of food and tapas. Ever the dutiful daughter, Moana thanked each and every one of them for their kindness.
Sina was nearly mad with grief. At first she blamed Moana for reintroducing their people to wayfinding, and it made Maui's heart ache to watch her daughter bear the accusations. But then she simply succumbed to a bone-deep sadness, and Moana continued to look after her.
Moana looked after everyone. Everyone, that is, but herself. She comforted all of the villagers through their mourning period, reassured them with her constant presence and loyal, steadfast nature. Maui knew she was hurting more than any of them, but her people meant everything to her. They meant even more than her grief. And it was with a feeling of inescapable certainty that he realized he loved her for it. He loved her strength, her compassion, her selflessness.
He loved her. And he would love her for as long as he lived, however many more millennia that might be.
And she could never find out.
Shortly after his realization, he went to find her, not really knowing why. Maybe he needed to confirm his feelings. Or maybe he just wanted to torture himself.
He found her down at the little stream that poured out into the bay, washing her hair. His heart began to beat faster at the sight of her, confirming what he had perhaps felt for a long time, but only now was able to admit to himself. He was hopelessly, stupidly, irrevocably in love with Moana Waialiki.
As he watched, she began to comb out her wet hair, and she winced as her mother-of-pearl comb caught in a snarl. The comb fell into the stream, and to Maui's surprise, she gasped and bent down, searching frantically among the rocks. Silently, he came and joined her, kneeling at her side and aiding in her search.
His fingers closed around the comb, and he held it out to her. She took it from him, exhaling in relief.
"Thank goodness," she said shakily. "I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost it. It..." She swallowed, blinking back sudden tears. "It was my dad's."
Without thinking, Maui reached out and touched her cheek. Immediately her face crumpled, and a sob tore loose from her throat. Maui gathered her into his arms as she let out all the grief she had been holding inside her for days. He just held her, stroking her back, dropping kisses into her wet hair, and whispering meaningless words of comfort in her ear.
After a long time, Moana spoke, her voice raw. "Maui... I never thanked you."
"For what?" he asked absently, smoothing her hair.
"For being with my dad... at the very end."
Maui froze in his ministrations. A bitter laugh threatened to escape him, but he held it in. "I didn't do anything," he said, his throat constricted. "I couldn't do anything. I just... watched... while he—"
Moana cut him off with a tight squeeze. "There's nothing you could have done," she told him. "It's no one's fault. It's just... part of life."
Not for me, he thought with a sense of horrible inevitability.
He heard her give a quiet sniffle. "He thought the world of you, you know," she went on.
This time Maui couldn't help but laugh. "Put up with me, you mean." His eyes begin to sting again. "I drove him crazy."
He swore he could actually feel Moana's smile against his skin. "Yeah, you did," she agreed. "But he loved you." She gave him another squeeze. "Just like I do. Like we all do."
Maui tightened his hold on her. "I love you, too," he said, feeling a tear roll down his cheek.