One Week Later

  Year 606 of the Divine Empire

  Ailu walked through the corridors of Kālepa, weaving around the villagers as they performed their daily duties. It felt odd to be here on her own; without Kanoa to guide her around. The suspicious stares of passerbies were more difficult to ignore without the status of a Pomaika to divert them, and she could feel the eyes drilling into her back. It was only natural to be cautious around such a strange individual, but one would think things would get better after four years. The other children still played with her every once in a while, though they had to hide such activities from their parents. It’s not as if they would have been prevented from doing so, but no child wants to deal with so many questions and disapproving comments. There were few that wanted her gone, but even fewer who would defend her position. Only Kanoa’s family would even bother, and all of them were understandably preoccupied. Thus, Ailu’s only option was to push her way through, praying that no one would stop her as she made her way towards Nohea’s hut.

  When she arrived at her destination, the first thing she noticed was the artist sitting on the small porch. They were carving the shaft of a spear absentmindedly, whittling in the form of some sea beast that a hunter had managed to catch. It didn’t look like their best work, though that still made it some of the most impressive carving work you could find in āina Hānau. The air was filled with some melancholic tune they were whistling, one that Ailu didn’t recognize. It stopped when they noticed the girl’s footsteps, distinctive due to her lack of plating on the soles of her feet. Despite everything, they were able to give her a genuinely appreciative smile.

  “Hello Ailu. I’m sorry, but she still hasn’t come out.”

  Ailu shifted uncomfortably. It was hard to look them in the eye. “Yeah. . . I guessed as much. Is she eating now?”

  “Yes, thankfully. Ikaika was able to find her some octopus. She never could resist it. . .”

  The two fell into an awkward silence. Normally, they got along like a house on fire, with AIlu appreciating someone who didn’t hesitate when talking to her and Nohea just appreciating someone who got along with their daughter. A shame it wasn’t so easy when they had disappeared for a day and came back with Kanoa withdrawn worse than when Nohea had just started taking care of her. They didn’t blame the girl, and was even forced to accept that Surendra had little to do with her stunt down in that cave. Seeing her like that, though. . . It was just hard to put on that laid back attitude.

  Still, Ailu was able to put up a smile that only looked partially forced. “Oh, that’s good. I. . . I’m going to try and talk to her again.”

  “Are you sure? I know it hurt last time, but you don’t need to force yourself.”

  “I know, it’s just. . . There’s something I need to tell her. I mean, I probably don’t have to. She’s always been way smarter than me, so I think she already figured most of it out. I just want to tell her myself. I think it matters.”

  Nohea looked her up and down. Ailu always had a strange sort of maturity to her, even if she tried to hide it. It seemed she had decided to listen to that side of herself for once. They didn’t really know if that would work, as both they and Surendra hadn’t done too well either. There wasn’t any real reason to stop her, though. Maybe there were some things you could only hear from a friend, not a teacher or family.

  “Alright. Just don’t force yourself to do anything you don’t have to. I’ll. . . be here. If you need to talk afterwards.”

  Giving a sharp nod, Ailu pushed through the cloth door and walked into the hut. It was dark inside, with only glimmers of sunlight passing through the coverings on each window. Kanoa was in the same spot she was last time: laying on her sleeping mat, facing the wall. Ailu could tell she wasn’t really sleeping. There wasn’t any real evidence, she could just tell. Slowly, she walked towards her friend, then sat down cross legged. She was facing away, her back warmed by that gentle, horrific heat. They stayed there in absolute silence for a few minutes, just taking in each other’s presences. Ailu almost started to talk nearly a dozen times, not really certain where to begin. There was no revelation that allowed her to finally speak, she just. . . had to begin.

  “I’m sorry about what I said last time. I know I said it wasn’t your fault, but that just kind of makes it worse, doesn’t it? I wasn’t thinking, so. . . sorry.”

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  Kanoa shifted slightly, but still would not speak.

  “I’m not going to try and make you feel better again. This is something different.” Ailu wringed her hands anxiously, still terrified of what she was about to say. “I’m. . . going to tell you about where I came from.”

  Ailu couldn’t see, but her friend’s eyes shot open. She didn’t move, not yet. At least now, her attention was focused.

  “I’m glad you didn’t ask after the first time, and I really did want to tell you. I was so worried that mom would find out, but that doesn’t really matter anymore. . .”

  There was another long stretch of silence, though it didn’t feel nearly as stifling as last time.

  “My home is called Natan-roji, and it’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. It’s really deep underwater, but all the coral and algae glows so it looks like you’re swimming in the starry sky. All of my family lives there, though they have to go visit their own territories all the time. . . Not that I’m sad, though!”

  Her voice finally started to pick up, even if there was still a bit of strain under it all.

  “Mom and dad are always there, and they’re super nice! Then there’s grandpa Aqulu, who always brings me really pretty stones and books from the surface. Sure, they don’t know how much time I’ve really been spending here, but I’m sure they’d like everyone if you got to talk! Everything is beautiful and fun and feels like home, but. . .”

  Ailu’s face fell once more as she remembered the point of this. As far as she had gotten, there was no choice but to take a deep breath and keep going.

  “But that’s how it’s always going to be. The same people, never changing. The same sights, preserved by everyone’s power. My parents have feuds with other families that have lasted for longer than the Divine Empire has existed. Nothing is ever different there. It’s all just new decorations and new things to talk about, but it doesn’t change in any way that matters. It’ll just. . . keep going. Forever. And I really mean forever.”

  Kanoa gripped her own arm tightly. She couldn’t help but understand, even if nothing she was hearing made any sense.

  “And I’m not like you, Kanoa. I’m not going to be able to leave someday. Once I get big enough, I’ll be able to get true authority over my domain. Then I’ll really be stuck down there, never able to leave.” Her voice was starting to get choked up, but she needed to finish this. “That’s why I understand what you mean when you say you want to leave here. And I want you to do it. You’re really strong and brave and smart and can do whatever you want, and I know I can’t ever take that from you. But I also know I can’t follow you.”

  At this point, Kanoa had turned on her other side, watching Ailu’s back in silence. She didn’t know what to do, how to make this better. She had always been able to cheer her friend up, no matter what it was. Maybe that was only because any challenges the two had faced before had been the problems of children and thus straightforward in nature. She wasn’t prepared for something so fundamental. In the face of eternity, all she could do was watch and listen.

  “You’re my best friend, Kanoa. And my only friend, I guess. I love how we can play pretend together. We can just. . . mess around and do stuff that doesn’t matter.

  “That’s why I’m going to help you. I’ll teach you everything I can, and help you get really strong! That way, when I have to go away, you won’t have to be afraid of anyone, not even Kinohi! Sure, I won’t be able to see you, but I’ll know that you’re alright. When I look up into that big, blue darkness, I’ll know that you’ll. . . you’ll be. . .”

  Ailu couldn’t talk anymore. Her throat felt so tight that she couldn’t imagine any noise coming out of it. She strained and tried to say something, to tell Kanoa that everything was going to be alright, but there was nothing. There was only so long a child could act like some mature adult. Water poured from her eyes as she struggled, until finally she felt a pair of arms wrap around her from behind. Everything was still for a moment, as the two of them felt the tear stains on Ailu’s robes slowly evaporate from that accursed heat. Ailu was only just calming down when she finally heard her friend’s voice, muffled from her face being shoved into her back.

  “. . . Stupid.”

  “Huh?”

  “I told you, didn’t I? I’m going to see everything that there is to see. That means that no matter where you end up going, I’ll see you eventually. Besides, Natan-roji sounds really cool. That’ll definitely be somewhere I’m going.”

  It was utterly ridiculous, bordering on insanity. Ailu had put everything she had into that speech, and Kanoa just barged right through it, just like she did to everything. It was that same stubbornness that put her in this situation to begin with, and yet here she was, completely unrepentant. How in the world was she even supposed to react to this? It was simple really: she just burst out laughing. Kanoa soon joined in, with the two collapsing onto the ground as a pair of giggling messes.

  Outside the hut, Nohea listened to them laughing until they became hoarse, after which they shifted back to a muted, indistinct conversation. They shook their head, resuming their work. Whatever it was that Ailu had said, it clearly worked like a charm. She really was a good kid; they would have to find out what she liked to eat later. This night was going to be a celebration. They started to whistle a tuneless, carefree melody, finally able to loosen their shoulders after a week of worrying. They could only pray that, one day, those two would finally be able to tell them what was really happening. It would be nice if they could join in on the laughter every once in a while.