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Kotu watched with ever growing horror how the humans, damn them, dropped the spear his people had given to them. He knew right away, how they weren’t to be trusted. This was why he had been so reluctant to give the spear to the woman in the first place, why he held on so tight. He knew they couldn’t do it; he knew that they would fail. This was why he hadn’t given them their native warrior salute when they were sent into the clam.
He stood there and watched, watched as the rope tugged their larger boat slowly, creeping towards the mouth of the beast, putting them even more at risk than before. The sound of rushing water drowned out most of the noise. His hands clenched repeatedly, glancing at the chief who did nothing but pace slowly back and forth on his ledge, his calm gaze never leaving the humans.
The humans his father would spin tales about, and tell stories before nightfall, the ones who stopped them from finding their way back to their home-island, who prevented them from getting Te Fiti's heart so they could save their island and return, the same humans who his father once said tore their boat in half.
Kotu was on the boat when that happened, only being a few years younger. He had been in the chiefs hut sleeping during the fight, but the destruction caused large pieces of wood to collapse around the hut and block all exits. He had been trapped for hours, it terrified him.
That type of destruction was the last thing you wanted when you lived on a boat.
His irritation boiled, seeing nothing but incompetence on their smaller ship. No teamwork, no communication, no knowledge, no proper use of the sails aside from the one woman who dropped the spear in the first place. He let out a sharp hiss, which got a displeased ’tch’ noise in response from the chief.
He knocked on his shell, a silent question to his father that went unanswered. He did it again but louder, tapping his clawed foot for emphasis and all he got in return was a very firm ‘no’ gesture from the chief. Kotu felt his annoyance boil at his father’s lack of belief in him to get the job done, and his sudden trust in these humans, which he viewed with nothing more than disgust.
He was an assassin. Yes, he was young, 14 years wasn’t exactly anything to gloat about, but he had the determination, the skills, and the training.
The training that these humans his father had trusted, obviously did not.
The young Kakamora watched with ever growing dismay and anger as the humans, the crazy female with the small axe, dropped the last 2 spears which got swallowed into the monster's stomach. He watched their boat get dragged further in from the ocean current, before coming to a decision.
A quick decision, one that wasn’t well thought-out.
A rash decision, not unlike his usual behaviour.
A decision that he may or may not come to regret.
He snatched a small spear out of his father’s hand, as fast as his reflexes would allow him, as fast as his training would let him move, checking to make sure it had the purple toxin on the tip of it before grasping onto the rope that attached their much larger boat to the humans canoe, getting a running start and using it as a zip-line towards the humans.
He heard the sudden, harsh and rapid thuds behind him of his father angrily banging his own shell, rapid and panicked unlike he had heard before, the more polite equivalent to ‘get your ass back over here!’
He didn’t listen to his father, the chief of the Kakamora tribe, because Kotu was a 14-year-old, a teenager by all accounts. He was young, if that was not obvious by his size alone, especially when compared to his father.
And if it was one thing teenagers were known for, it wasn’t listening to their parents.
Kuto used his momentum to launch himself into the air, pulling his arm back and chucking the spear into the glowing orange part of the clam the humans had originally been aiming for, hitting the target with perfect precision.
He landed on the highest part of canoe with a THUD and crouched down, feeling a sense of pride swell in his chest for a moment, as a pulse of energy rippled in the air once his spear hit its intended mark. He heard the sound of rushing wind that made him squint under his shell, tightening his grip on the smooth wood under him.
He had done it, done what the humans could not, surely this would prove to his father that his training wasn’t all for nothing, that he was worthy of being the son of the chief.
He would make a good heir, he had the ability to bring their tribe honour and success in the oncoming years for any battles they may face, until they eventually returned to their home island, however long that may take.
His thoughts of pride washed away like misguided sand on the beach as he heard startled exclamations from the humans and looked up, just in time to see the mouth of the clam closing shut faster than he was comfortable with.
Much faster.
He was ashamed to say he almost fell off as the sudden dip in the waves knocked the boat around, grasping onto the wooden beam before watching as one of the humans rushed towards the front, the others falling into chaos and clinging to whatever they could. At this rate the boat would tip over, he had no doubt. He swiftly pushed himself up, scrambling with hidden desperation as he rushed towards the head of the ship.
Kotu looked from the rope that the human girl was tightening against their own canoe, towards his ship, before looking back at the rope again as the human female yanked it, using her legs to pull. Even without communication, he could tell she was trying to prevent them from being sucked up and eaten. And for a brief moment, he couldn’t help but respect that she was trying to save her own people.
But at the risk of his own?
The smell of salt from the ocean overwhelmed him as the waves crashed against the small ship he stood on, the smaller vessel rocking violently. He knew that the chief was looking straight at him.
Kotu knew his father wouldn’t disconnect the rope, even if he was the chief, not with him on the other end.
But he wouldn’t hesitate.
He lifted the skull mask on his face, watching as the fellow Kakamora’s in his tribe all panicked, their large boat slowly getting pulled in with them. Some were running, others flailing their limbs, the few barely composed ones were staring at their chief, waiting for an order to be given that they could follow. He even caught sight of a few of them trying- and failing, to pull the rope themselves, not for the purpose of getting the humans back to the safety of their boat, but to save their young and only heir who was now stuck on their ship with the voyagers.
They were so close, too close. Only feet away from being inside the mouth of the monster alongside him and these humans, these humans who had failed to do their task. If they had just done what they were meant to and weren’t so incompetent, he wouldn’t have had to intervene.
His irritation bubbled again at the thought but was quickly pushed away, and he was filled with a sense of helplessness.
Raising his arms, Kotu knocked on the chest of his shell, doing his best to not tremble. Two rights thumps, two left thumps, one right thump, before using both hands once.
‘Goodbye.’
He watched his chief’s stance shift, from disappointment and anger at his actions of disobedience, quickly going still as the cold realization hit him. The older Kakamora’s arms went slack, knowing his son better than anyone, and the decision he was about to make next.
Kotu was too far away to hear the loud whistle of panic that escaped his father's mouth.
He pulled out his knife from behind his shell, the first real weapon his father had ever gotten him and raised it. He couldn’t hear the faint exclamation of “Wha- no! What are you doing?!” from the human girl beside him, he didn’t know her name, and he didn’t care to. Her voice was drowned out by the waves that crashed against the wood of the ship, and he nearly slipped as a wave hit them.
Without hesitation, he cut the rope.
He had no chance to cling to anything as the boat violently rocked backwards, the sudden waves being created by the giant clam shutting nearly knocking him off, the screams of all the humans echoing in his ears on their way down. He shuddered, unable to close his eyes even as they were quickly swallowed within seconds, keeping his gaze glued to the Kakamora chief.
He could only imagine the horror on his father’s face, seeing the much older Kakamora frozen in place, unable to do anything but watch.
How disappointed was the chief, he wondered with a burning feeling in his ribs as his body smacked against the wooden beam of the canoe, his claws instinctively trying to grasp onto anything they could get a hold on, accidentally letting out a fearful cry of his own. Had Kotu made the chief proud, even a little?
Probably not, he was disobedient on a good day. Maybe if he had been a better son, or a better heir to their tribe.
Kotu prayed to both Gods and Demi-Gods alike that he would be forgiven for killing these humans, but he held no regrets.
He saved his people.
The teenager hoped they would understand.
The chief Kakamora could do nothing, feeling their own ship rock backwards as the rope was cut, essentially killing his only child. He could see the faint, brown blur that was his son get launched back, the skull-mask nearly knocking off of his shell, before the clam locked shut and went under the water within seconds.
He waited, waited for anything, a miracle to be granted by their ancestors that somehow, his son had jumped out just in time. That somehow, his eyes had played tricks on him.
No miracle came.
And to the Kakamora chief's ever growing, gut-wrenching guilt and terror, he silently hoped that his son would be crushed before he hit the digestive track of the clam and die quickly so as to not suffer. One could only imagine the agonizing pain of being slowly burned and eaten alive, drowning in a liquid you can’t swim in.
His son, Kotu. His determined, outgoing, temperamental heir, who took so much after his dead mate. He knew his son had the same spark she had, a fire in his soul that no amount of ocean travelling could diminish. The young Kakamora had a constant desire to prove himself, both to his people and his parent, just like the chief did when he was a child.
Now Kotu is dead.
The sudden silence that echoed across the ocean was deafening. The Kakamora chief didn’t move, frozen as a statue, and none of the Kakamora behind him dared to say a word, only staring with their own hidden expressions of horror and shock.
The Kakamora chief did not move from his spot, but made his tribe turn their boat around soon after, not communicating anything aside from a quick ‘move south’ gesture with his wrist, as he continued to stare at the closed clam where his son had been sucked in. He hid the way his body trembled, how his chest started to ache, slowly directing his gaze to the ledge beside him, where his son has stood mere moments ago.
The father continued to stare, even after the waves calmed down.
The canoe was completely totaled. The sails were shredded, and the bottom of it was splintered. Kotu watched as the human girl leading them- Moana he had learned the name, walked off from the group, the male with tattoos following after her moments later.
The other humans spoke in hushed, worried tones before they scattered. Where to he didn’t particularly care, because this island was embarrassingly small to go anywhere.
Kotu stayed where he was, before slowly moving off of the boat and sitting on the warm sand a few feet away, barely able to hide how shaky his limbs were.
He was freezing cold and tried to hide his shaking limbs by tightly grasping the knife in his hands, the same knife that doomed him to this fate. These waters were much colder than he was used to, how that worked he didn’t care to know.
The young Kakamora wasn’t one to give up in a fight, not ever. But you didn’t need to have hope to not ‘give up’.
And he had no hope that he would survive the next oncoming hours. He was stuck with these humans now, fighting this battle with them, because it would allow his people to easier find their way home once Nalo was defeated, clear the paths in the currents.
Make his dad proud that if by some miracle, he did come out of this alive.
The chief thought he was dead.
Even if the 14 year old was hard-headed and stubborn, he could see where hopes and delusions crossed paths, the chance of them beating a god, a real god, was slim to none, especially now that the boat was ruined due to the giant eel attacks, that ended up partially tipping over their boat and nearly drowning him in the process.
Kakamora were not good swimmers, at all, contrary to what some might think. The shells that hid the majority of their bodies were hollowed-out coconuts, so when they hit the water the breathing holes got submerged underwater, as well as the tribe markings, they got filled up quickly.
And they sunk.
The amount of water he inhaled already couldn’t have been healthy, and dryheaving didn’t work to expel it from his lungs. This was the most swimming he had ever done in such a short amount of time, which said a lot since he lived on a boat all his life. There was a high possibility he would grow ill within the next week or so, but that was a problem for his future self to deal with.
The colourful thing from the boat clucked and moved beside him, before sitting down. He heard the humans call it- a chicken? He thinks that was the correct term.
He turned and stared for a few moments, before lifting up his skull-mask to sit on the top of his head. Hesitantly, he reached forward and placed an arm around the creature, pleasantly surprised by the texture of its skin, or- feathers.
It was warm, and he leaned against it slightly without really intending to, letting out a barely audible chirrup.
He had never really…seen an animal that wasn’t from the sea. The Kakamora people were omnivores, but for the most part they grew their own plants near the back of their ship, and used large nets to catch fish, or if they got lucky, they would shoot one of the flying things in the sky, birds. They very rarely ever stopped at an island, only if the waters were too rough.
So, seeing this…very colourful but obviously dumb creature, Kotu could recognize it as an animal of sort, just not one he was familiar with. He stayed sat down on the sand, listening to the humans behind him speak, his gaze drifting off blankly.
Then he heard the all-to-familiar THUNK! of wood chopping and splintering.
He sharply turned his body to look behind him and tensed instinctively, noticing the crazy human female- he still didn’t care to learn their names, using parts of some sort of wreckage to fix the canoe. Kotu perked up slightly and moved to stand on shaky limbs, watching as she began to fix up the boat with the help of the other two humans, at a surprising speed as well.
He walked forward and let out some quiet clicking sounds to himself, curious. It seemed humans and Kakamora had more in common than he previously thought, never one to give up, but instead find a way and push through.
…Kotu felt a bit left out if he was being completely honest, for some unknown reason. It stung, as if he should be participating in some way, even if these humans were partially at fault for his situation.
Perhaps he could assist the humans in some way? He wasn’t skilled with the knowledge of building unless it involved weapons, and despite living most of his life on the water, he wasn’t actually a big fan of boats and didn’t know much about them, often not paying attention during lessons.
The chief would physically strangle him if he ever said as much aloud.
He hesitated before pulling out his knife as he moved near the boat, glancing at the humans.
He waited, for what he wasn’t entirely sure, perhaps permission? This wasn’t his tribe, nor his crew, and this boat wasn’t his own, he was just a…temporary asset in this group.
Kotu waited for a good few minutes until the old man glanced at him, quirking an eyebrow in a show of confusion- was that confusion? He wasn’t good with human expressions, before giving a huff and a nod. The energetic human woman looked at him next, before giving a large smile and a thumbs up. Finally, a gesture he could recognize.
The young Kakamora felt a tinge of warmth, happiness maybe, but he did nothing but return a curt nod as he turned towards the boat, touching the wood carefully with a clawed hand.
Emotions were not his strong suit, especially as the future heir of his tribe.
He wasn’t the best, but drawings and carvings were part of how they told stories, and he was very good at that, so he reach up as much as he could and gently carved every member of the crew onto the side of the canoe while the humans worked on fixing it up, hesitating for a moment longer once he was near finished before adding himself near the end. The old man helped decorate as well, except he was using the beak of the colourful creature from earlier.
If for a moment Kotu had a spark of hope that he wasn’t going to die with this group on this near-impossible mission, that was only for him to know.
Travelling was lonelier without his people, Kotu had come to realize
He leaned against the wooden beam of the canoe they sailed the ocean in, not making an effort to participate in any conversation with the humans as he stared at the ground. Two of them could somewhat understand his language- at least the one with signs, but he wasn’t in the mood to chat.
He could not believe he was still alive, despite the odds. If it was not for the inventor girl, who had grabbed him after their boat flipped, he was almost certain he would have drowned.
Regardless; they had beaten a god. Despite all the odds, not even one of them had died, despite the multiple close calls.
He let out a tired clicking sound, touching the mark of red paint on his skull-mask, a symbol of leadership in his tribe. Only chiefs, chieftains, or their children could wear these marks, and wear specific headgear from animal bones. The gentle breeze was nice to feel but he kept the mask on, a silent comfort.
It was something he wore with great honour, even if the role of becoming the upcoming heir held a lot of pressure. Like needing to find a potential mate.
Yeah, that was still a good couple years ahead, his father would physically beat any Kakamora half to death with his spear if anyone tried courting his son now, he was too young.
But still, it was tradition for all chiefs to have a partner, male or female didn't particularly matter, only a few of the elders had much care about that type of stuff. You didn't specifically need to be blood-related to be the next chief, and his father was a prime example of that. The older Kakamora's biological parents had passed, so he was adopted by the previous chief, which was Kotu's now-grandmother, and his grandmothers deceased female mate at the time, who he usually just called 'grandma'.
Courting another was a process that could take from months up to years. The partner had no real say in what happens regarding the tribe even if they did end up mating with a tribe leader. It wasn't as if the power was just handed down, it had to take years of preparation and training.
Kotu scoffed at the thought and rolled his eyes with a quiet rumble of displeasure, as if he would allow someone to even attempt and take over his role.
Having a successful courting mate didn't specifically mean romantic, it could also be platonic. It was more like the chief getting their own personal body guard in a way, to even attempt and court a heir or chief Kakamora, you had to prove you were the best of the best in nearly all fighting and hunting regards. Still, it was important to have someone like that by your side, especially if you were high on the ranks like he was.
That kind of thing could bring a lot of weight down on your shoulders, especially someone his age.
Speaking of weight, Kotu was nearly certain he had lost quite a bit of it, what he would do to simply crack open a clam and pull out the meat with his claws to get his sharp teeth on the raw flesh-
-okay maybe not a clam specifically, something else, like a mussel.
He almost salivated at the mere thought, much to his horror and embarrassment. He wasn't a youngling anymore.
The Kakamora species in general had to eat often, much more than humans did because of how active they were constantly, and their metabolism was fast for their small bodies.
They constantly burned through energy, and he hadn’t had anything to eat in- what? 3 days now? Maybe 4?
His stomach burned and cramped, so did his lungs and his throat was sore, but the last two were probably from him inhaling so much water during this whole ‘adventure’, but his people had specific medicines for that.
Kotu felt skinnier, but that was probably just his imagination.
The humans hadn’t offered him anything to eat, but he hadn’t asked either. He was too prideful, plus he didn’t want to eat their food, there was a high possibility it would just upset his body further, since he was used to very specific types of plants and how they were cooked.
Would the chief see the signs of malnourishment his body showed? It was faint, so probably not.
Kotu leaned forward on the sail and started to quietly bang his skull-mask against the surface of the wood, mentally groaning. He was going to be dead once the Chief heard about everything that happened.
Oh, the consequences of ones own actions...
Fighting giant eels and unknown creatures that looked straight out of the stories, crashing their canoe, nearly being eaten, twice. Nearly drowning, twice. Then there was the whole situation with fighting against tornado’s and riding huge waves made by Nalo, the same good that was preventing his tribe from going to their home island. Not to mention the scolding he would receive for disobeying his chief's strict orders to begin with.
The ocean was starting to look more and more appealing to jump into and put him out of his own misery.
His father would likely never let him out of his sight again, or God forbid have a Kakamora guard stationed with him at all times to make sure he didn’t do anything ‘reckless’ again.
That was, only if he ever heard about this…
…maybe some things were better left to be unsaid.
He was dragged out of his thoughts when he felt something nudge his side, clenching his hands tight against the handle on his blade as he glanced down, noticing the human girl, Moana he thinks the name was. She had gently reached up and poked him with the end of her paddle, using the arm that now adorned new tattoos.
It was almost ironic how similar they both were. Both children of their own tribes, born to be heirs and leaders, who were both previously out on the ocean to ‘prove’ themselves, even though she was older than him.
He supposed that humans were that bad.
“Hey little guy-“ He purposely made a gesture of fiddling with his toxin dart, one of the few he had remaining after the fight. The girl- Moana, was quick to correct herself, lowered her paddle. “Kuto, right?”
He nodded, putting the darts away behind his shell where his knife was.
Moana took that as her sign to continue, her eyes sparkling with something he could decipher was close to joy, he let out a confused click in reply and tilted himself, watching the human girl smile larger.
She gestured forward with an open palm, somewhere he hadn’t actually glanced at in quite a few hours, and with little hesitation he turned to look.
He saw an island up ahead, with a large layer of sand surrounding it, filled with hundreds of trees in the centre, and pretty clumps of rocks around the area every couple hundred feet. It was a very pretty one, the sun shining on the ocean waters almost made it look like it was glimmering, with some overly large boats near the shores on the west side of the island-
Kotu froze, staring at the island they were approaching as it finally clicked in his head that they arrived. He whipped his body around to glance back at the humans behind him, the builder, the storyteller, the voyager, the Demi-god, and the old gardener.
He turned his body back around glance at the island ahead of them, unable to believe it. He had known they were bringing him back to his home island, searching for it. That was the first request they had made after returning to the human's homeland, to be returned to his own people.
He had no idea what his tribe's home island had really looked like, since his tribe had to leave far before he was born. He was in a sense ‘born’ on the Kakamora ship, but the stories he had been told described it as a wonderful place. He didn’t even know the location of his homeland, or how long the travel would be, but he could recognize it from the pictures his elders had drawn.
The shock from his body-language must have been obvious, because he faintly heard the fat male with the tattoos quietly snickering. He ignored it, turning back towards the island that was his home, the island he had only ever been told in stories by his father.
Nothing could compare to how beautiful it looked.
The young Kakamora rushed forward, grabbing onto the rope and sliding down until his feet hit the wooden deck, his retractable claws digging into the wood.
Kotu jumped in place and pumped a fist in the air, letting out a cheer in his native tongue, unable to physically contain the excitement coursing through his body, and making no attempts to remain still as he ran as close to the edge of the boat as possible. The cool and calm exterior broke, replaced with sheer glee that only intensified as he saw a group of his tribe start to form near the edge of the beach, no doubt noticing the small boats fast arrival.
He could hear their cheers from a distance once they caught sight of him, the other Kakamora’s his age, younger, even the elders, their excitement that matched his own as a few scrambled off, likely to spread the news of his return to everyone else. His excited, rapid clicks and and chirps mimicked theirs, the young assassin speaking too fast to properly be translated by the humans on the ship.
He saw the headgear of the chief in the back of the group, who was swiftly rushing forward to see what the commotion was, the others parting way for him as they spoke in their native tongue, making excited gestures and relived sounds. Kotu watched his fathers sprint come to a halt as he froze briefly at the sight of him, visibly stunned. His son was alive.
He was home.
Once they got close enough, he leaped off before the boat even touched the sand, landing on the ground with his usual flip, letting out a happy chirrup. He ran towards his father with open arms.
It was the best hug Kotu had gotten in a very long time, consequences be damned.