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The Folly of the Toa [Finished]


Scorpion_Strike

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Chapter 39

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That was the end of the memory… I backed out, looked down, and found that my hands were shaking. That last image of Onua, what remained of him, slumped against the end of the tunnel and waiting for it to end... it was haunting. Sitting across the table, Nuparu sat with a pensive look on his face, elbows on the table and resting his chin on folded hands.

“It took them a month to find his body…” he began. “Then, of course, there was a big service, the building of the memorial… Everyone believed he’d died just working as he always had. No one except me knew that he ended it himself.”

“You think it was on purpose?” I asked, a bit shocked.

“He’d never have dug into fractured bedrock like that without reinforcing the tunnel along the way,” Nuparu explained. “One way or the other, he knew that tunnel was coming down. It wasn’t an impulsive thing; he’d been at that tunnel for hours. I just showed up at the right time to see the end.”

“Right… and for a moment there, he sounded almost… happy,” I remembered.

“He knew the collapse was imminent,” Nuparu said dourly. “He could sense it… and by that point, death was a comfort to him. Three months of this stuff,” he pointed at the crystal still lying on the table, “three months was all it took to bring him to that point.” He sighed. “I asked myself a lot of questions afterwards, you know? About what I could’ve done differently… in the end, I came to the conclusion that by that point, I could do nothing for him. That’s how I’ve lived with it ever since.”

“And no one else figured it out?” I wondered.

“I never told anyone. Never. It would’ve destroyed his reputation, and you can see how much he means to the people of this city.” I immediately thought of Jahlpu when he said that; my brother practically lived his life by the words of Onua. “His legacy remains untarnished, and it’s better that way,” Nuparu concluded.

“What about… as a warning?” I wondered. “I mean, if this stuff destroyed Onua, wouldn’t that serve as a very strong warning against people… you know, using it?”

“It’s rare, and I buy up all of the crystals they find and keep them locked away,” Nuparu explained. “That way, no warning is necessary.”

“The best of both worlds…” I mumbled.

“Exactly.” We paused for a moment… then Nuparu got up, picked up a set of tongs, and walked over to the tempering furnace. He pulled out the blade, took it to another tank, one filled with water, and dropped it in. With a loud, hissing sound, steam erupted from the tank; Nuparu took a step back, waited for the boiling to stop, then pulled out the blade and laid it on the work bench.

“So, why did you tell me, then?” I wondered.

“As a warning,” he replied.

“But, you just said…”

“Not the drugs,” he cut me off. He looked down the blade to ensure it was still straight. “As a warning about blind devotion to duty. Onua only started using those crystals because he felt like he wouldn’t be relevant if he couldn’t work. He’d made that work his duty, and remained so laser-focused on it that he couldn’t back off, couldn’t reinvent himself again when his body started to give.”

“He worked himself to death because it was the only way in which he saw himself adequately serving the Matoran.” A scary thought, that’s for sure.

“That’s right.” Apparently satisfied with the straightness of the blade, Nuparu laid it on the workbench and proceeded to reassemble the handle on the tang. “Now,” he continued in a somewhat stern tone, “I’m sure that, if you’ve been traveling with Kopaka, you’ve heard an awful lot about duty and the Toa Code, and about how he sees himself as serving it.”

“He’s pretty certain that he’s got it all figured out,” I acknowledged. “Of course, he’s living a fantasy, but hey, he can sleep at night.”

“In spite of the contradictions?”

“In spite of anything and anyone,” I continued, anger starting to boil over again. “He just rationalizes it all away, and is marching to his own demise in the process; he just refuses to see it.”

“Well, don’t be too quick to dismiss him,” Nuparu said, to my surprise. “He’s just trying to reconcile his duty and the Toa Code in way that he can stomach. It’s a pity that this world has no place for him where he can do so that would satisfy him, but that’s why he rationalizes away the contradictions.”

“You’re wrong,” I argued. “There is a place for him, a place where he can pursue his duty without destroying himself. The knowledge towers! Gali even pointed it out to him, as did I. He only got angry about it. Angry that he didn’t think of it, maybe?”

“No, he thought of it,” Nuparu countered. “In fact, I bet he’s thought about it a lot, and that he has a legitimate reason for not wanting to work there.”

“His ego,” I explained. “He wants to be alone so he can prove he is better than everyone else; to prove that he can survive what no one else can, and that he can do it without help. It’s lunacy, and it’s getting him killed with no benefit for the Matoran.”

“So his ego isn’t a legitimate reason?” Nuparu asked.

“No, it isn’t,” I argued. “Not when satisfying his ego means letting everyone else down.”

“Okay, so suppose he were to start working in a knowledge tower,” Nuparu posed as he began to wrap a leather grip around the handle of the blade. “Suppose he agreed to start doing his astronomy there; the Matoran would bring him food, water, whatever he needs, and he could spend all of his time charting the stars through the latest equipment. Would that be better?”

“Of course!” I answered. No question about it, right?

“Well, in light of the ‘ego’ you described,” Nuparu continued, “do you think he’d be happy up there?”

“He’d be fulfilling his duty,” I answered, “and he’s always hammering on about how important that is.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Nuparu said as he put the blade down and looked me straight in the eyes. “Would he be happy up there, in those circumstances?”

“Uhm…” I wasn’t sure what he was looking for… or was I? “I guess, maybe not?”

“No, I don’t think he would be,” Nuparu agreed. “It wouldn’t… it wouldn’t fit his idea of a hero, what he strives to be.”

“So, what does this… idyllic hero look like, then?” I wondered.

“Some kind of solitary warrior, I think.” Nuparu picked up the blade again and resumed wrapping the grip around the handle. “I mean, he’s always insisted that he works alone, right?”

“True…” I nodded. “Actually, Gali said that, too. She told me about how Kopaka always wants to do everything himself… even if it doesn’t lead to, you know, the best results.”

“There you go,” Nuparu shrugged. “Did she tell you why he does that?”

“She believed it’s because he wants to prove himself independent from everyone else,” I recalled, “and I saw some things that proved that he wants to do that because he wants to believe he’s better than everyone else… I mean, able to stand alone when everyone else needs a team behind them.”

“Then that’s why he wouldn’t be happy working in a knowledge tower,” Nuparu explained. “Living in a city like that, or even above it… he’d have to rely on others for at least some things, and he sees that as a weakness that he can’t stand. He doesn’t want to be a part of society, to be dependent on other members of it to do their part, which is why he’s going as far away from it as he can.”

“But… he’s wrong,” I argued. “That… interdependence isn’t a weakness. Just look at what the Matoran have accomplished as a society! I mean, that statue out there wasn’t built by one person, was it?”

“No…” Nuparu admitted, “but Kopaka’s not a Matoran, is he?”

“No, he isn’t…” No denying that.

“And neither are the other Toa Nuva,” Nuparu explained. “You see, that’s the difference between us and them. They were never Matoran; they never had a life where they weren’t the exalted heroes that legends speak of, and that’s why they’ve had so much trouble adjusting.”

“But you guys did fine,” I countered. “You’re still serving the Matoran now, aren’t you? And you don’t need to be the hero for it.”

“That’s because I haven’t always been a hero,” Nuparu reiterated himself. He finished tying up the grip; the sword was done, so he looked back to me. “Look, Lis,” he sighed. “Onua, Lewa, Kopaka… all the Toa Nuva have their own idea of what a hero is, what a hero does, and that’s all they know, what they want to be. Only know life at the summit, right?” He pointed at the letter in front of me. “Thing is, the summit kills everyone sooner or later… and we couldn’t get them to come down. Lewa and Onua couldn’t face the descent; they’d already seen from Gali and Pohatu what the bottom looks like. It sucks, but no one was going to change that… and that’s why you’re not going to get Kopaka to stay. No one can; he’d rather die, die as the hero he believes himself to be.”

“But… it undercuts his duty,” I stammered.

“Look around you,” Nuparu replied. “Look at New Atero, at this city here… do these people really need Toa? It’s our duty to help them, but they don’t need our help anymore. That’s why I’ve gone back to doing what I did before I became a Toa, and all the other Toa Mahri did the same. We went back to being Matoran, just… taller ones. If the Matoran need Toa again, we can rise to the challenge, but until then we’ll live out our lives in peace, ‘cause unlike the Toa Nuva, we have lives to return to.”

“I guess you’re still serving society anyways, right?” I pointed out. “I mean, you’re still fulfilling your duty, just… without the need for the spotlight.”

“You could say that…” Nuparu sighed, took up that pensive pose again, and thought for a couple of seconds. Then he looked up: “Lis, you’re still looking for something to do, for a purpose, right?”

“Yeah.”

He looked me straight in the eyes again. “Take my advice: don’t get hung up on framing it with or calling it “Duty” or “Destiny.” Those virtues were for a time of war, when legends were forged and great evil hovered over us like a specter. That time is gone. The time of heroes is gone, which is why I’m not pretending to be one, and neither are the other Toa Mahri. I’m not serving some grand duty, I’m doing a job I enjoy, something that I’m good at. That’s the standard you should be striving for, and if, one day, the need for heroes arises again, you can stand up and be there.”

“But… what if that time never comes?” I questioned.

“Take pride in what you do,” Nuparu answered. “I’m far more satisfied with the work I’ve done here, in my shop and for the mines, than anything I did or accomplished ‘being a hero’ and fighting monsters. Truth is, we barely pulled it off, and lost the best of us in the process. None of us ever felt we were heroes; we just did what we were called to do.”

“Yet the Matoran still call you a hero,” I pointed out, “and me, too.”

“The Matoran need people to believe in…” Nuparu explained, “…people to look up to. We serve that role just fine by being upstanding citizens, and the Toa Code gives us the rules on that. Besides, even if you never got to do something you consider title-worthy, you were ready to, weren’t you?”

“I mean, if it had come to a fight…” I shuddered at the prospect of facing an angry Skakdi tribe, “… I guess we would’ve done what we could.”

“Well, then as far as I’m concerned you’re as deserving of the title as I am.” Nuparu cracked a slight smile before his expression turned gravely serious again. “Really, don’t worry about it… just don’t go out of your way to be some great hero when no one needs one. It didn’t work for the Toa Nuva, and it won’t work for you.”

“But, what about Kopaka, then?” I asked. “He’s still trying… and he’ll die trying before long. I don’t think anyone will even know when it happens.”

“Like I said, you’re not going to be able to change him. Besides, most of the Matoran think he’s dead already anyways…” Nuparu sighed. “Look, I know his words and his actions don’t match, but… learn from him what you can, and then just let him live out his fantasy. He’ll be happy, the Matoran will keep their legend, and you won’t spend years asking yourself how you could have saved him. No one can save him now, no more than anyone could save Onua.”

“I guess you’re right…” I admitted. “It just… sucks, you know?”

“It does,” Nuparu agreed, “but when we can’t save a person from their own flaws, we can at least save the legacy, the ideal they represented. Onua, Kopaka… all the Toa Nuva deserve all the worship they get for what they accomplished; they saved a universe, and made possible the creation of a new world. As fellow Toa, we should make sure that that legacy isn’t tainted by the failings that came to light in that world.”

“I guess that’s it, then…” I resigned. “I should let him go.” From what Nuparu said, it looked like the best option… but I just didn’t like it, something that the Toa of Earth recognized.

“It might help if you parted with him on good terms,” he suggested. “I’m not saying that you’re wrong; you’re absolutely right about his incongruent reasoning, but… you’ll feel a lot better after he’s gone if your last words weren’t in anger.”

“So, I should apologize?” I asked. The idea seemed abhorrent at first. “Apologize for pointing out the truth? He never gave anyone else that courtesy.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure it eats at him too,” Nuparu continued. “He probably buries it like everything else, but I guarantee that somewhere in there he feels pretty bad about the way he’s treated people. That might even be why he’s so fanatically devoted to proving himself to himself… if he isn’t the morally righteous one, maybe at least he can be the strongest, right? Lis, his ego’s going to kill him, and there’s nothing you can do to change that… but don’t let yours do the same to you. You can be the bigger person here, and it will only help you.”

“I guess I never thought of it like that…” I realized that, once again, the older Toa was right. I didn’t like it, but I did owe Kopaka an apology, more for my sake than his. Nuparu turned his attention to screwing the pommel back on the blade, and I looked up at the clock suspended in the shop; it was over halfway from eight to nine in the evening. Nuparu noticed it, too.

“It’s getting late,” he observed, suddenly looking quite tired. “Here, the sword is done;” he handed it to me. “Take it back to him; it’ll give you a way to get the conversation going.”

“Uhm, okay…” The blade was lighter than I thought. “Shouldn’t he pay for it first?”

“He already did,” Nuparu pointed out. “Besides, after all this, I’m about ready to call it a day.”

“Of course,” I nodded. “I’ll probably head back to New Atero… Well, anyways,” I reached forward to shake his hand, “thank you for telling me all this, and for showing me what happened with Onua. I know it was hard.”

“You’re welcome.” He shook it back. “If you learned something from it, it was worth it.”

“It did, and it was,” I assured him as we turned and started heading for the door.

“If you need anything, stop by anytime,” he invited.

“I will, and I’m sure you’ll be seeing Jahlpu soon.”

“I look forward to it.” He smiled in spite of how tired he looked. Entering into the main shop space, we looked around; Kopaka was nowhere to be seen.

“Well, where’d he go?” I thought out loud.

“Outside, probably,” Nuparu suggested. “You should probably go look for him; he won’t be far, and if he does come in here, I’ll tell him to wait outside the doors.”

“Works for me,” I agreed. So we parted ways: he moved to finish closing up the shop, while I turned right and headed for the doors.

“And if you do go back to New Atero, say hello to the other Toa Mahri for me!” he called after me.

“Will do!” I called back as I picked my way between the workbenches and assorted machinery set up in the dim light. Stepping outside, I looked up at a clear, starry sky. The mountain air was chilly, but the view was breathtaking. I closed the doors behind me and stepped back onto Onu-Koro-Nuva’s main street. I didn’t expect Kopaka to have gone into the underground portion, with its round-the-clock hustle and bustle, so I headed in the direction of the hotel and the train station. As it turned out, I was right; I’d made it not fifty feet down the road before I noticed a tall, cloaked figure standing in front of one of the buildings, right across the street from the hotel. Unlike underground Onu-Koro-Nuva, the Matoran on the surface kept a day-night schedule, which meant that the street was empty. As I walked to where Kopaka was standing, I noticed the building he was facing was some kind of souvenir shop, presumably positioned close to the train station to catch weary travelers who’d spent their day in the underground city and were about to board the train home. Kopaka’s attention seemed to be focused on something on display inside, and he showed no sign of noticing me as I approached, not even when I stopped about ten feet away from him.

“Hey, your sword is done…” I said, presenting the weapon. He quickly turned to face me, almost jolting as though I’d surprised him, which I’d scarcely believed possible given how he’d always noticed me even when I used my mask. Recognizing me, he immediately turned to his resting state.

“So it is,” he said solemnly, and gestured for me to approach. I did, and he took the sword. He held it out in front of him for a second or two, testing its weight and balance. Apparently satisfied, he stored it away. Looking past him, I noticed the object he had been so fixated on: a foot-and-a-half tall, bronze model of the statue of Onua in underground Onu-Koro-Nuva, complete with a small lightstone in its raised hand, making it either the world’s most elaborately detailed and expensive ornament, or the world’s most pretentious desk lamp. Having stowed the blade, Kopaka turned back to face the window, looking it over one more time.

“Hey, there’s something… something I have to tell you,” I began, trying with some difficulty to find the right words. “Well, I guess it’s more of an apology…”

“How did it end?” He suddenly asked, cutting me off. He didn’t even turn to face me; he just asked the question.

“Sorry… what?” I was momentarily taken aback. Now he turned back to face me again.

“How did it end?” he repeated himself. “What Nuparu showed you.”

“Oh, that…” now I got it, but what did he want to know about it? “Well, you know how it ends. He died, remember?”

“Show me,” he asked.

“Show you?” I was dumbfounded. “Like, all of it?”

“What Nuparu showed you,” he elaborated. “What did the end look like?”

“So now you’re interested?” I said incredulously. Really, now he was interested?

“Fine then,” he said with a sudden edge to his voice. “Never mind.” He started to turn again.

“No, actually…” I decided. If he wanted to see how Onua died, then I would show him. , maybe it would scare some sense into him; from what he’d told me, Onua was the one other Toa Nuva he still respected up until this point. “You want to see how it ended? I’ll show you how it ended, right here, right now.” He turned back and looked me straight in the eyes. “You ready for this?” I asked, more to see if it would elicit any reaction from him than to get an actual answer; he’d asked, of course he was ready. Alas, no reaction was forthcoming, his expression remaining as stoic as ever. So, I placed my hands on his shoulders, closed my eyes and focused in on his mind instead, calling up the still-fresh memory I’d gotten from Nuparu, intending to hit him with all of it. The condition of the tunnel, the first sight of the Toa Nuva of Earth in his skeletal, famished state, Nuparu pleading with him to come back, Onua’s resignation to his fate, and his final act of defiance… All of it.

It only took a minute or two, but while the connection was up and I was feeding the memory to Kopaka, I also got some signals back; inevitable echos of his reactions to what he saw, what he was experiencing. At that moment when Nuparu first rounded the corner and laid eyes on what remained of Onua, I got shock: deep, awful shock, something Kopaka would have done his best to hide, but he couldn’t block this. Through the conversation, I got disbelief, shock again, more disbelief, hints of anger, and eventually silence… silence punctuated by a sad gloom. This was Kopaka accepting what had shocked him so, Onua’s final scene… when we got to the part where Nuparu was racing against the collapsing tunnel to get out, which should’ve gotten his adrenaline pumping, I instead got that same sadness. Not even an extra heartbeat; after that last glimpse back, that image of Onua leaning back against the wall, awaiting the imminent collapse, Kopaka had tuned out. I opened my eyes; my hands had dropped to my sides and were shaking a little, but I quickly reasserted myself. Kopaka’d turned away again, his eyes once again fixed on that statue that crowned the display behind the window.

“That’s it,” I said. I got no response from Kopaka, but his expression, for once, spoke volumes. I could best describe it as an empty sadness, like I’d shattered something in him, his view of Onua perhaps, the one Toa Nuva he’d had good things left to say about. I didn’t focus in on his mind again, but even with what passive signals I got, I could tell all manner of thoughts were racing through his head… somehow, that felt quite satisfying to me. “Hey, that was it,” I said, reaching up and shaking his shoulder to try and get him out of this… whatever trance this was. I got no response again; he’d tuned me out completely. “So, look,” I continued, “I know you can hear me, and I do have one thing left to say before I go, or before you go, I guess...” I paused for a moment to collect my thoughts again, then noticed that his expression had changed to a frown, a scowl, a defiant expression of some kind. Unsure of what to make of it, I tried to get his attention again: “Hey… look, I’m sorry about, you know… what I said back there…” Suddenly, he turned and started to walk away. “Hey, wait!” I followed. “Where are you going!?” Again, he ignored me completely, but he kept up a very quick pace. He marched into the train station, made his way up to the ticket booth, slammed a bunch of widgets down on the counter in one go, and pointed resolutely at the board listing various destinations. The late-night operator quickly offered him a ticket, which he took, after which he proceeded up the stairs leading onto bridge to the passenger platform, not even bothering to wait for change to be counted.

“Hey!” I called after him, but it was like I didn’t exist as far as he was concerned, so I turned to the operator instead. “Hey, wherever he’s going… I need a ticket too,” I told her. The operator, a young Ce-Matoran, of all things, quickly grabbed another ticket and just handed it to me.

“This’ll cover it,” she said, gesturing at the pile of widgets on her desk and with a noticeable tremble in her voice; Kopaka’s display had left an impression.

“Oh… okay.” I wasn’t going to question that; I took the ticket and started for the walkway.

“The train’ll leave in less than a minute, ma’m!” she called after me.

“Thanks!” I called back as I sped up, sprinting up the stairs and across the walkway to the platform where the train was parked, ready and waiting. I boarded the closest car mere seconds before the doors closed and the train got rolling. Looking left and right, I didn’t see a sign of Kopaka, but I wasn’t going to let him get away, not again.

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Chapter 40

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There weren’t a lot of other passengers on the train, which wasn’t surprising at this hour, and most of them were getting settled in for the night. I headed for what I figured would be the most likely place for Kopaka to go: as far back as possible. Like before, the cars got progressively emptier as I made my way to the back of the train, and I did find the last car to be completely empty, except for one the passenger I was looking for; Kopaka had taken up that same spot he’d claimed on every trip before, and was sitting in the same pose: elbows resting on his knees and his chin on folded hands, looking pensive more than anything else. This time, I approached him without hesitation.

“Like I said,” I picked up where I left off, “you’re not getting away so easily this time; not when I have a few things left to say.” I waited for a moment, got no reply, and then sat down across from him. “I know you’re listening,” I continued, “and… well, I do want to finish what I started; tie up some loose ends, or rather… a particular one.” Still nothing; he didn’t as much as move a muscle, his mind probably preoccupied as his face retained a steely, determined expression and his gaze remained fixed on the floor between us. For a moment, I considered just waiting, since Ko-Koro-Nuva was about four hours away and he’d probably have to acknowledge me at some point in that time… but then again, did he? That wasn’t a wait I was willing to risk, so I tried to get his attention: “Hey, anyone home?” I asked, waving an arm in front of where I could see his eyes were pointing. Still nothing; his mind was really preoccupied with something, and I suspected that it wasn’t the pattern in the floor. Still, he couldn’t tune me out completely. “Well, I guess I’ll settle for a one-sided conversation,” I mused as I tried to think of a way to word the apology. I still wasn’t all that comfortable with it, but I didn’t want to disregard Nuparu’s advice either. Besides, four hours or not, I didn’t think I’d feel any better about it later, so it was pretty much now or never.

“Look...” I began somewhat hesitantly, “I spent a lot of time talking with Nuparu about… well, about what happened with Onua, and the other Toa Nuva…, including you. We talked about… how you all ended up, and why, and let’s be honest, things haven’t really gone well for any of you in the long run…” I realized I was rapidly getting nowhere; now, of all the times, in my mixed state of mind words seemed to be failing me. Amazingly, however, they at last elicited a response: a long, deep sigh, perhaps one of exasperation, but I felt relieved; up until that point, I’d feared that he might lash out at me or something, let his anger boil over the way it’d happened when I pushed him as the train had entered station in Onu-Koro-Nuva. While I didn’t imagine he was pleased by any means, at least he wasn’t hostile either.

“Go on,” he said coldly, without looking up.

“Okay…” I sat down in the chair facing his across the aisle. “Nuparu told me some things, about the way Onua thought, and the way he believes you think...”

“The way he believes I think?” Kopaka interrupted without looking up, placing a particular emphasis on the word “he.”

“Well, both he and I…” I stammered, “… the way we think you think, I guess… I mean, from what we’ve seen and what you’ve told me, and in light of that… I think I owe you an apology.” I figured that, of all things, those words would elicit a response, but Kopaka seemed to have reverted to the silent treatment. I continued: “I don’t want things between us to end the way…  the way they did before Onu-Koro-Nuva, and in Nuparu's shop, but I can’t take back the things I said, ‘cause they were… they were what I felt at the time. Still… I shouldn’t have pushed it so hard. That was a stupid reaction on my part, a reaction to… well, to things I thought didn’t add up. And I’m not saying that they do, but somehow they do to you, and...”

“You are making excuses,” he cut me off. “You are trying to justify what you want to apologize for. That is not an apology.” The words seemed scornful, but his tone of voice wasn’t... in fact, it was far less harsh than I’d gotten from him in a long time.

“No, it isn’t…” I realized I had to stop dancing around the subject. “Look,” I leant forward, trying to meet his downward gaze, but failing to do so I found myself looking at my feet instead. “I let my opinion of you get in the way, and I let my feelings get in the way of looking objectively at what you’re doing. You’ve been… harsh, to me and to others, and I never liked that, but you were never unfair to anyone, while I’ve definitely been unfair to you. I had no right to call you the things I did, to get angry and denounce you like that, and that’s… that’s what I want to apologize for: for poking and prodding when you repeatedly asked me to stop, and for getting angry at you when you responded. So… I’m sorry. I’m sorry about that.” I paused for a second and thought back over the days gone by, but I couldn’t really pinpoint anything else that I really felt was unjustified or worth apologizing for, given the circumstances. “That’s… that’s it, I guess.” I looked up; he was still looking down, making no eye contact whatsoever, but this time I did get a verbal response.

“Fine,” he said dourly. “Consider it past.”

“Really?” I was surprised; Kopaka wasn’t the type to quickly forgive. “Well, thanks, I guess…” I wasn’t sure of where to go from there, and Kopaka showed no interest in continuing the conversation, so I decided to let off and turned my attention out the window instead.

The train had picked up speed, and dark scenery outlined by the starlit sky was rushing past the windows. I looked back, but by this point we’d come far enough for the lights of Onu-Koro-Nuva to no longer be visible. Suddenly, it dawned on me: I’d left my teammates behind there! They were probably really worried by this point. I had to contact them somehow, but… was I still in range to try telepathy? It had to be worth a go. I closed my eyes, and focused first on Jahlpu, or rather, tried to see if I could establish a link between him and me, even though I knew that it would be almost impossible. I could neither see him directly nor pinpoint the exact location in Onu-Koro-Nuva where he was likely to be, and so I found nothing. Frustrated, I switched to trying to contact Lerome, then Kirall, both with the same result. “ it…” I cursed under my breath. “I’ll have to get a train back when we get to Ko-Koro-Nuva…” Looking around, I spotted a clock at the front of the car, which informed me that we’d just passed a quarter past nine. From that, I figured I should’ve been able to make it back there by sunrise: four hours and change there, same time back. With Kopaka apparently back in his meditative state, I decided to capitalize on the trip by getting some long-overdue sleep; the short morning nap in the Onu-Koro-Nuva hotel hadn’t really been sufficient, and an afternoon and large part of the evening spent wandering around the town had left me pretty tired. So tired, in fact, that after laying down across a couple of seats, I was out in a matter of minutes.

I woke up feeling a lot better, but as soon as I sat up I realized a couple of things didn’t quite add up. One: the clock read 6:45 in the morning, a time which was confirmed by the sunrise in progress outside. Two: the train was still going. Also, Kopaka was still sitting across from me, and apparently he’d gotten hold of a sandwich.

“Morning…” I said, more as a questioning observation than as a greeting. “Shouldn’t… shouldn’t we have gotten there already?” I wondered. Kopaka looked up, but didn’t answer. “I mean, Ko-Koro-Nuva is like four hours, right?”

“You should check your ticket,” the Toa of Ice suggested.

“My ticket? Sure, why not…” I produced the ticket and looked at the destination… and just about did a double take. New Atero, return ticket. “New Atero!?” I exclaimed. “What… we’re going back there!?” No response. “What… what for? You got your sword back, you got yourself fixed… shouldn’t you be running around in the mountains by now?”

“I did not ask you to follow,” he said curtly.

“Well, you didn’t give me much of an option by completely ignoring me when I was trying to tell you something,” I countered. “Particularly something that I told you I really wanted to get off my chest before you left.” He offered no response. “So, what was up with that?” I wondered. “What changed? Did you forget something?”

“I do not forget,” he said as he looked down; I immediately feared that he was about to shut me out yet again.

“What… is there something else you need fixed?” I continued. “Some place you want to stop by or… Oh ! This means I’m going to be gone for like two days!” I paused as I realized just how ticked off Jahlpu and the others would be. I hadn’t told them anything, and now, as far as they were concerned, I’d upped and vanished on them… and what if they found that operator and learned that I’d gone back on the train running after a mysterious, angry Toa? Jahlpu’d have a fit, especially given that he’d warned Kopaka about “not getting up to anything” before. Really, whenever I got back to Onu-Koro-Nuva, if they were still there by that point, I’d have a lot to explain… This sucked, but unfortunately I really couldn’t do anything about the situation. “Remind me to check my ticket before boarding next time,” I sighed, more as a futile, sarcastic gesture than anything else. Still… while there was nothing I could do on that front, I did have some questions for the Toa sitting across from me.

“So… you didn’t forget anything,” I began reasoning out loud, “and your leg and stuff still look fine… so why are you going back? Hmm… something, some kind of circumstance must have changed…”

“Lis,” he said coldly.

“Yeah?”

“You said that you were sorry for prodding after I asked you to stop.”

“Yes, I did…” I didn’t like were this was going.

“I am asking you now; stop prodding.”

“Okay… okay, I won’t,” I relented, “but, will I at least get to see… eventually?” He shot me a momentary death glare, which was undoubtedly my cue to shut up, which I did. Yes, my curiosity was burning, but I didn’t want to eat my own words, not right after I’d made amends. Having finished the sandwich, Kopaka returned to what I’d concluded was his favorite way to kill time; try to process something fiendishly complicated in his brain that I had little hope of deciphering. So, with that avenue closed, and having realized that I had the whole day to fill, I decided getting breakfast wouldn’t be such a bad idea either, and started to make my way forward through the train to get to the dining car. It was oddly refreshing to find a dining car that wasn’t in the process of hosting a party or still reeling in the aftermath of one, and for a while, as I watched the telescreen in the dining car and enjoyed breakfast, I actually felt quite happy that I didn’t have to deal with the company of my teammates. Jahlpu was fine, though he’d also be the one who I’d have the most to explain to when I met them again, but in truth I missed neither Lerome nor Kirall’s company. I mean, there were reasons that I’d left the first time, and while I hadn’t planned on it, I decided to take this trip as some unexpected bliss. In fact, I even contemplated just staying in New Atero when I got there; I could call my teammates to inform them of where I was, and at the moment, it appeared that going back to stay a while with Macku and company was definitely one of the better options on the table, especially with the expedition they were planning. Perhaps this wasn’t such a bad situation after all…

At that point, my attention was taken by one of Hahli’s news reports appearing on the telescreen. It concerned the aftermath of the Kolhii game that Lerome’d been so excited about the day before; apparently, Hewkii’s team had squeezed out a narrow victory, which meant the time leading up to the next game would be spent “training and refining training,” as the Toa Mahri of Stone himself put it on camera. It was followed by a “Highlights of the Arena Magna” special, which convinced me it was time to go and find someplace else to sit, which led to me making my way back to the last car again, where I spent the time alternately looking at the scenery outside and flipping through what outdated newspapers were available. Occasionally, I looked to Kopaka, whose meditation provided a constant mental background that by this point I was well used to… except, I noticed there was what I could best describe as an intermittent edge to it, as though every once in a while something was welling up inside him. I couldn’t quite characterize it, but I didn’t want to specifically try and read deeper into his mind to figure out exactly what it was. All I could say was that it hadn’t been there when I’d watched him meditate previously, which could only mean that something really had changed.

That theory was reinforced when, early in the afternoon, I came back from the dining car to find that Kopaka had shifted position and was now sitting back in the chair, hand on forehead, looking quite listless. Granted, given the intense thought patterns I saw earlier in the day I figured it was appropriate, but still, for now that meditation seemed to have uncharacteristically stopped.

“Headache?” I asked.

“No.”

“I mean, if it was, I could help with that…” I offered.

“No need.” Of course; even if he had a headache, he’d just tough it out. I picked up a magazine again and started to read when, to my surprise, he asked me a question. “Lis?” he got my attention.

“Yeah?”

“Why did you keep following me?” His voice had more of a raspy quality to it than usual, which complemented the tired look.

“Why did I keep following you?” I reiterated. I was taken aback; definitely not a question that I was expecting. “Well… uhm… initially it was because you were hurt…” I began, but he cut me off.

“Not then. After my leg got fixed, after Gali, after Pohatu,” he explained, “why then?”

“Well, you promised to show me the final battle,” I recalled.

“You could have asked Gali for that, or Tahu, and they would have offered more explanation,” Kopaka pointed out. “You know that.”

“Uhm… Yeah, I suppose they would have,” I agreed. In fact, getting Tahu’s view in particular actually sounded like a really interesting idea, given how he’d taken charge and all.

“So why me, specifically?” he asked again.

“Because… I was curious,” I answered. “I mean, no one’s seen you in millennia, and no one might ever see you again after… well, after you leave. I guess I wanted to learn what I could before you go. I still do.” That seemed a much more satisfactory answer.

“Learn what?” he questioned.

“Learn… about being a Toa,” I decided. “About what you did, and why you did it. I mean, incongruities aside… you could explain a lot of things, and I wasn’t going to get your point of view from anyone else, so I took the chance, I guess. Besides, there was always something else dragging me along too, right?”

“Right…” he nodded slowly, unconvinced.

“Could I turn the question on its head?” I asked. He didn’t immediately object, which I took as a “yes,” so I continued: “Why did you allow me to stay?”

“Allow you to stay?”

“Like, you’re not known for valuing company,” I continued, “and you specifically mentioned you ‘tolerated’ my presence as long as I didn’t… you know, ask too much. From the other Toa I’ve spoken to, that’s a bit unusual; normally you drop people as soon as you can. Why didn’t you do that with me? Did the others ask even more questions?”

“Not particularly,” he answered, “and I knew I would not be stuck for long with you regardless. I did not have that guarantee before.”

“Right, ‘cause no one in their right mind would follow you into those mountains,” I recalled. I detected a slight flash of anger at the statement; in effect, I’d said that he was insane for going into the mountains himself, something that was not entirely unintentional.

“How much longer do I have, then?” I changed the subject. “Before you leave New Atero, that is?”

“Not long,” Kopaka said curtly.

“Like, you’re just stopping by one or two places and then leaving?” I pushed further, hoping to get some idea of his apparently revised plans. For a second or two, he didn’t answer, and the reply that followed wasn’t what I wanted to hear:

“Enough for now.” He pointed his gaze at the floor again, rested his elbows on his knees and his chin on folded hands. Within seconds, he was… out again, retreated into whatever he was doing that so put his brain through its paces. I was disappointed, but the fact that he’d actually asked me a question on why I kept following him kept me busy thinking for a while as well; why the sudden interest? I got the feeling he wasn’t just asking because he could, like it was something that he’d been wondering in the back of his mind but hadn’t bothered asking because the opportunity wasn’t there; he actually had to know for some reason. Was he planning something that took me into account? That would’ve been very uncharacteristic of the Kopaka I’d seen and heard about up until that point, but still, it was the only real explanation I could think of. Perhaps my apology had done more than just put my mind at ease… I really wanted to ask him more, but if all that was required for him to open up even a little at this point was time then, well, I had hours to give.

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Chapter 41

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Hours I had to give, and hours I had to spend; spend them waiting, mostly. For a while, I almost wished my teammates were on board, just to know that something was happening on the train. Having made my way through the newspapers and most of the material I felt worth watching on the telescreen, I found myself spending the hours watching scenery go by, with intermittent glances in Kopaka’s direction, wondering what exactly the meaning behind his questions had been. At first, the fact that he’d asked me about why exactly I followed him had been perplexing, but increasingly, I started to think that maybe he actually cared just a little about what I thought of him. Granted, I still didn’t think much of him… or did I? Thinking back over the last few days, the first things that always came to mind where the shocking moments, the way in which he’d berated Gali, Tahu, and myself. Those were the moments when he boiled over, when he simply couldn’t keep it all inside anymore, the moments that I hated. Still, even when he wasn’t that angry, he still alienated people on purpose. At the same time, given what I’d seen of the inside of his mind, it all made a kind of twisted sense; his anger and his self-imposed isolation were understandable, they just weren’t always… justifiable. Again, though, nothing I’d seen actually accounted for him actually asking for something from my point of view, which meant I’d either missed something or something had changed significantly between our arrival in Onu-Koro-Nuva and now.

Of course, that self-imposed isolation meant that the mind that orchestrated it remained largely off-limits, though I had to admit I was tempted to try and read more closely into whatever was going through Kopaka’s head in those hours. Just like that morning, even the surface signals seemed far more… tumultuous than normal, with intermittent flare-ups of emotion that the Toa of Ice would never have permitted himself to show on the outside. In spite of that, some of it did show; his calm façade wasn’t perfect on this day, which showed most obviously in how much he shifted position. He alternated between leaning back in the seat, sitting hunched over and resting his chin in his hands, and all manner of positions in between, quite unusual for a Toa who I’d watched sit completely still in contemplation for hours on end. At last, with about two hours to go until we reached New Atero, I decided to be more proactive about getting to know what was bothering him. Realizing that he’d probably shut down a direct line of questioning, though, I knew I had to try and… ease my way into it. Discussing what we’d seen most recently seemed like a good place to start.

“So, what’d you think?” I asked.

“Hm?” he looked up.

“About, you know… what happened with Onua,” I elaborated. “What I showed you, and what Nuparu told us.”

“Tragic,” he answered.

“No kidding…” I agreed. “Do you think Nuparu was right?”

“About what?”

“About not telling anyone. It’s kinda been bothering me,” I went on, “’cause what happens if someone else accidentally breaks one of those crystals and… you know, breathes it? It’s unlikely, but just in case, shouldn’t Onua’s end be like a warning to them?”

“Should it?” he asked, though that question turned out to be rhetorical, as an explanation came right behind: “how many of those crystals are dug up each year?”

“Not many,” I admitted.

“…and do the Matoran not know that they are fragile and should therefore be handled carefully?”

“I imagine they do.”

“Then what are the risks that such an accidental exposure could happen again?”

“Low,” I concluded. “Very low. But not zero.”

“Low but not zero,” he agreed. “Now, what would happen in Onu-Koro-Nuva if the Matoran and Agori found out that the Toa for whom they erected a three-hundred foot statue in the middle of their city died by drug-fueled suicide?”

“I imagine they wouldn’t be very happy if you put it like that,” I hypothesized. “Their flawless hero would be tainted, but… the truth would be out.”

“Would the Matoran be better off for that truth?” he asked.

“Probably not, no…” I realized we’d come back to an argument we’d had before already. “But why couldn’t you say that, like… the drugs took him down, that it wasn’t his decision in the end? That’d make him look less responsible for it, and they’d still have the warning.”

“Would that be the truth?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes it does, and no, it would not be,” he answered both questions. “You are basing your argument on the idea that the truth has inherent value, even when its ramifications could be highly detrimental. In this case, the truth is that Onua did kill himself. Everything about that tunnel collapse was premeditated. The crystals did not help, but they alone were not responsible for his demise. By saying so, you would merely be substituting one lie for another.”

“There’d still be the benefit of a warning, though,” I argued.

“And some Matoran and Agori would start to ask questions,” he extrapolated, “after which the full truth eventually would come to light. Would that risk be worth the benefit? No, it would not be, or at least Nuparu did not believe it to be when he made his decision on what to tell the Onu-Matoran. He weighed his options and decided it was best to leave out parts of the story for the good of the Matoran, as is his duty.” As is his duty… yup, back to duty again.

“So… is that what you’re doing now?” I wondered. “Weighing the options in front of you?”

“I have already made my decisions,” he pointed out.

“Not all of them,” I countered. “You had a plan, yes, but if you’d followed the plan completely you’d be in the mountains right now. This trip wasn’t part of the plan, and I know it wasn’t ‘cause you’re having a difficult time deciding on how to proceed.”

“I know what I am going to do,” he argued. “I have weighed my options. No, it was not part of the original plan, and no, I will not tell you.” I noticed that, since I mentioned what he had been thinking about, a hint of melancholy’d crept into his voice…

“Okay, so… what changed your mind, then?” I kept trying. “Why did the plan change?” Kopaka stayed quiet for a moment before answering.

“You will see,” he simply said, making it quite clear that he considered the matter closed. Still, that slight change at the end piqued my interest. Something about his demeanor changed when I tried to shift the conversation from what others’d done to what he was about to do, and I was pretty sure that it wasn’t just his reluctance in sharing the latter subject that prompted the change. No, his mood became slightly more downcast, which reflected both in his voice and in what little signature I was reading from him. I couldn’t really pinpoint the cause, but with time to spare I did indulge, once again, in mental speculation. Anger, fear, and anxiety were all possible causes, but the latter two didn’t really seem to affect Kopaka very often, and the former just… didn’t fit right. The only way in which Kopaka would be on this train because he was angry at something would be if he had scores to settle, which as far as I knew he didn’t. Plenty of others had scores to settle with him, sure, but since when did he care about that? I couldn’t imagine that he was heading back just to apologize to people for said scores either… though that was a possibility, I suppose.

Thinking about that, and a belated dinner, kept me occupied until the train’s eventual arrival in New Atero, a little past seven in the evening. Unlike our last arrival in the city, the platform wasn’t particularly busy. Nonetheless, Kopaka still resorted to his cloak-and-cane disguise, and even seemed to exaggerate his retained limp slightly, making the whole scene feel very déjà vu, and just like last time no one recognized him in spite of the stares he was getting. Matoran and Agori alike showed the same reverence to me as they had last time, and in spite of my talk with Nuparu, I had to admit I still wasn’t fully comfortable with it. No one wanted signatures, thankfully, but even the reverent tone of voice that everyone automatically seemed to adopt on greeting me still didn’t sit right. I was feeling tired, too; it’s quite amazing how a long day of basically nothing happening can leave one feeling exhausted all the same. Couple that with the fact that I had no idea where within the city Kopaka’s destination lay, and you get why I was getting very impatient about finding out what his amended plan was.

Arriving on the central square from the station, I noticed many of the billboards were advertising the fight between Tahu and the Porcupine, coming in two days. Kopaka stopped at the top of the stairs leading down onto the square, a moment or two of hesitation before he turned and headed west. I, however, spotted a couple of payphones at the edge of the square, and realizing the opportunity to try and tell my teammates that I was okay, I asked him to stop.

“Hey, could you wait for just a minute?” I asked. He stopped and turned but didn’t immediately reply. “I’ve got to tell my friends that I’m, you know… okay,” I explained, pointing at the payphones.

“Go ahead,” he nodded.

“Thanks,” I quickly made my way over to the phones and produced a widget to stick in the slot. Putting the receiver to my ear, I pressed a button labeled “OP” on the device, putting an operator on the line.

“Good evening,” the operator greeted. “Where would you like to be connected to?”

“Do you have the hotel in Onu-Koro-Nuva?” I asked.

“Which one?”

“The one right by the train station,” I replied. Honestly, I’d never paid much attention to what the place was called.

“I do, just a moment…” I heard a couple of beeping sounds, followed by a ring or two, after which the phone on the other end was picked up.

“Onu-Koro-Nuva Travelers’ Lodge,” a clearly Matoran voice answered.

“Hi,” I greeted, “Do you know if the people who had rooms… 209 and 210 last time are still there?”

“I can check…”

“They were Toa, if that helps,” I added.

“The Toa? Yes, in fact one of them is here right now. Do you need to speak with them?”

“Yes…” I answered, but I was cut off almost immediately by the very enthusiastic sounding voice of Lerome.

“Yo Lis!” he called loud enough for me to put some distance between my ear and the receiver, “Where’ve you been!?”

“Lerome, sheesh,” I replied, “could you not shout, please?”

“Aw sorry sis,” he apologized, “but Jahlpu’s been looking all over for ya. He was getting real about it, too. I mean, I thought he got angry when I threw a party in his room that one time while he was gone, but turns out I hadn’t seen nothin’…”

“Okay, okay!” I interrupted him. “Could you put him on, maybe?”

“Sure, sure…” he replied, sounding a little disappointed. “Yo twinkle!” he called, his voice muffled because he’d probably covered the mouthpiece but still loud enough to be heard and understood on the other end, “go find the grumpy black guy!”

“Twinkle? Have you been drinking?” I wondered.

“No worries, sis,” he assured me, “Twinkle here’s a Vo-Matoran who can do this crazy lighting-spark-crackling thing with her fingers. It’s a neat trick for a Matoran! Say hi, Twinkle!”

“Uhm, hi…” a somewhat shaky Matoran voice answered.

“Hi…” I greeted back unenthusiastically. ““Twinkle” isn’t your actual name, is it?” Suddenly, I didn’t feel so bad about leaving in the middle of the night.

“No, it’s not…” she began, but Lerome jumped in again.

“Anyways, go find that guy…” he dismissed, “…oh wait, here he comes!”

“Give me that!” I heard Jahlpu yell, after which some assorted crackling noises indicated the rough transfer of the phone. “Lis, is that you?” the Toa of Earth demanded.

“Yes, yes it’s me,” I answered, already holding the phone at a slight distance in preparation of what was to come.

“What the were you thinking!?” Jahlpu yelled into his end of the line. “We’ve been looking high and low for you!”

“I know, I know…” I attempted to pacify him.

“Where are you?”

“I’m… I’m in New Atero,” I answered. “Really, if I was going anywhere else, I would’ve called sooner…”

“Sure, sure…” he said sarcastically. “Did you follow your mysterious friend?”

“Yes,” I admitted, “but he’s not dangerous or anything… he’s leaving soon altogether, but he had one last stop to make in this city, so I went with him.”

“Right…” Jahlpu sighed. “That’s all?”

“Yes, it is. I can come back after we’re done,” I offered.

“Yeah, we’ll be here for a while,” Jahlpu admitted. “I might have a place lined up, and Kirall is going under the knife for like a week…”

“Look, I’d love to chat, really,” I interrupted, “but I’m kind of in a hurry here. I’ll call you back whenever we’re done, okay?”

“Okay,” Jahlpu agreed, “just… be careful out there. And next time, if you have to leave, please tell me.”

“Will do,” I promised. “Bye.”

“Good night.”

That was the end of it, and good thing too, since I was just about out of time on one widget. Satisfied that my teammates wouldn’t be worried about my whereabouts, I turned and found Kopaka standing in front of the statue in the center of the square. There was barely anyone around now; the train’s passengers had largely dispersed, and with the sun rapidly setting on the horizon and a cold breeze setting in, most Matoran and Agori preferred the comfort of their homes at this hour. I made my way over to the center, too: the statue of the Great Spirit Robot rose to about sixty feet tall from a circular pool. It stood, illuminated from below and looking upwards, but with its feet offset and its knees still slightly bent, as though it was in the process of getting up out of the water while gazing at the stars above. Turning to face the statue, the Toa of Ice stood still, looking upwards at the gleaming, dark granite construct. I stood beside him for a minute, remembering how much larger the real thing had been from the memory of the Battle for Bara Magna… in light of what I’d seen, this was a very faithful interpretation, though.

“So, what does this represent?” I asked. “The moment, I mean.”

“Hm?” Kopaka turned to me, apparently coming out of deeper thoughts than I’d realized.

“It looks like it’s standing up,” I elaborated. “Like, getting up, you know?”

“This,” Kopaka said as he looked back up to the statue, “this was the moment in which I fulfilled my destiny, in which all the Toa Nuva fulfilled theirs. We awakened Mata Nui. Here, he rises from the ocean of Aqua Magna.”

“Really?” I asked. “I mean, I thought the Battle for Bara Magna…”

“That was not part of the plan,” Kopaka interrupted. “Makuta Teridax intervened and took over the body. That began the reign of shadows.”

“The Matoran’s darkest hour,” I remembered the description from when I was taught history years before.

“That it was,” Kopaka agreed. We stood still for a bit, still looking up at the statue. I tried to imagine what it was like, living inside of that titanic contraption and finding out that one day, your greatest enemy had turned it all against you. Failing that, I looked over to Kopaka again and noticed that he seemed to have a sense of… trepidation, of unease about him, like he wasn’t sure of exactly what he was doing, which reinforced the notion that he was acting ‘off-plan’ here.

“So, what are we doing here?” I tried again. Kopaka didn’t answer,  so I waited again for a minute or so, looking at the statue and around the square in general. The chilly breeze animated the flags of Matoran and Agori tribes all around; it took me a minute to figure out which one belonged to the Ce-Matoran.

“Lis?” Kopaka suddenly asked.

“Yeah?” I turned back to him, but found that he hadn’t taken his eyes off of the statue.

“When we first met, what did I tell you about the Toa?” Now that was a surprising question.

“Uhm…” I thought back to that first train ride from Ko-Koro-Nuva. What had he said? “You… you told me that the world didn’t need Toa anymore,” I recalled, “and that I’d have a hard time finding a purpose.”

“And, over this last week, between all the Toa you have met, do you think I was right?” he continued. For some reason, I felt like this was a test of some kind, and a cumulative one at that.

“Most of them would agree, I think…” I remembered. “I mean, Tahu said the same thing, so did Nuparu, Hahli, and even Lewa, in that letter. Yeah… the Toa don’t really have a purpose here, do they? Not as Toa, that is.”

“Not as Toa…” Kopaka nodded slightly. “What else did Lewa say in that letter?”

“He wrote it to explain himself,” I recalled, “to explain why he flew into Mt. Valmai’s eruption. Suicide by natural disaster.”

“Why did he?” Kopaka questioned.

“Because… he wanted to leave the Le-Matoran with a legend,” I continued. “He said that he couldn’t grow old and bitter among them, and he didn’t want to push himself to breaking point like Pohatu, so he wanted to end it at the top, you know? I guess it worked, I mean, from what I heard from Lerome, the Le-Matoran still see him as a hero.”

“Like the Onu-Matoran with Onua…” Kopaka mused, uncharacteristically. From that, for the first time, I got the impression that I was having a real conversation with him, without the elements of the seemingly pre-planned verbal duels that usually made up his verbal interaction.

“Actually,” I remembered, “Lewa warned Onua about that… about not getting too caught up in what he did. He said that Onua would be able to offer the Matoran more than just a legend; he could provide wisdom for centuries to come.”

“He warned Onua of that?” Kopaka turned to me, clearly a bit surprised.

“Yes,” I confirmed, “though in the end, it didn’t save Onua… Lewa reckoned without those crystals, I suppose. Now they’re both revered as heroes… kind of like you to the Ko-Matoran.”

“Lewa,” Kopaka said in a sudden, darker tone, “was a noisy and reckless fool.” He looked back up at the statue for a minute. “But, for once, he was right…”

“About what?” I wondered.

“In the end,” Kopaka answered, now with a sense of foreboding to his voice, “all we are, or will be to the Matoran… are legends.” With that, he suddenly turned around and took off with a renewed vigor to his pace. It wasn’t joyful by any means; it was a fast, determined walk, a walk with purpose. I hurried to catch up and follow, noting that the unease, that sense of trepidation on his mind had vanished. He’d made his decision and had formulated a plan, whatever it was. He headed straight south, then turned west and entered a section of narrow roads, alleyways, and corridors, which he deftly navigated as usual, but which for a while left me pretty confused as to what exactly our destination was.

“So, where are we going?” I asked Kopaka as we were walking by a small neighborhood Kolhii field. He gave no answer, so I tried figuring it out myself by counting off the places where we’d been before in my head: Macku, Gali, and the Toa Mahri in New Atero lived on the east side, close to the waterfront, while Tahu’s place was on the north end of the city, so we definitely weren’t heading to either of those places. This route obviously wouldn’t take us near the Arena Magna, nor the city center in general… which I suddenly realized left only one possible place: Pohatu’s house.

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Chapter 42

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As soon as I deduced that we were heading for Pohatu’s, I started to spot signs that that was in fact our destination. The modern, glass-and-steel buildings that made up the city center gave way to structures with more concrete and then brick, while the roads and buildings got progressively dustier. I even recognized a few roads that we’d followed three days before, after leaving Pohatu’s place the first time. At our pace, I estimated that it would take a good hour-and-a-half to reach it, and throughout it all, Kopaka maintained the fast, silent pace. Indeed, a little past nine in the evening, we found ourselves standing in front of the dilapidated, brick structure that was the current residence of the Toa Nuva of Stone. It didn’t look much different from the last time: two wooden crates, filled to the brim with empty bottles, were taking up the space in the overgrown garden next to the front door, ready to be taken away with other garbage. The one front window, its ragged curtain closed, showed that there was a dim light inside. Coming to the door, Kopaka hesitated for a moment.

“So, why are we here?” I asked. “I thought you said your goodbyes.”

“We did,” Kopaka said dourly.

“Then, why are we here?” I repeated myself, keeping my voice down just in case the Toa inside would hear.

“Unfinished business,” Kopaka sighed and opened the door before I got the chance to keep asking. He walked in, and I followed right behind, making sure to close the door again behind me. The place looked almost exactly like how we’d left it: the single trophy on the shelf, the folded wheelchair in the corner, and the recliner facing the telescreen, which was producing all the light and noise in the room, though there wasn’t much of either since its volume was not turned up high. Slumped in the recliner, which was surrounded by at least eight empty bottles from what I could see, was the Toa Nuva of Stone.

“Brother,” Kopaka greeted as he slowly crossed the room, careful not to kick or trip over any bottles. He got no response, so he maneuvered himself around the chair until he was in front of Pohatu, but not between him and the telescreen. I followed a short distance behind, eventually positioning myself next to the bedroom door. “Brother, I am back,” Kopaka greeted again, and again he got no response. Pohatu, leaning back in the chair, appeared to be half-asleep, eyes barely open and fixed on the telescreen. Apparently tired of trying to get his attention verbally, Kopaka reached forward and shook the Toa of Stone’s shoulder. “Wake up,” he said in about as quiet and soothing a voice as I think he could ever have managed.

“Wh… who…” Pohatu finally seemed to slowly come to some kind of consciousness, turning his head to look at Kopaka. “who… who’s there?”

“Your brother, Kopaka,” the Toa of Ice answered. “I have come back for you.”

“Kopaka…” Pohatu let out the name with a shallow, breathless sigh, still clearly not quite in his right mind.

“Yes, it is me,” Kopaka answered. “Do you recognize me?”

“Uhm…” Pohatu let out a long sigh, again, then almost by instinct leant to the right and reached down with his arm, retrieving what by the sound of the liquid sloshing inside was a nearly empty bottle. “One minute…” he said as he proceeded to raise the bottle to drink from it. Kopaka, however, put his left hand on Pohatu’s arm and easily pushed the bottle aside.

“No, no more of that,” he said, still retaining a softness to his voice that before then I hadn’t thought he could muster.

“Hey, that’s… that’s mine…” Pohatu protested meekly.

“And you are going to put it down,” Kopaka said as he grabbed the bottle and, again, without much effort pulled it out of his brother’s hand, after which he set it down on the ground and out of the latter’s reach.

“No… no, it’s… it’s fine…” Pohatu stammered. “It’s been… it’s been a while…”

“You’re still drunk,” Kopaka asserted. “Go back to sleep.” He put Pohatu’s arm back down on the armrest of the chair.

“Stupid visions…” Pohatu uttered as he began to drift back into unconsciousness. Within seconds, he was out. Kopaka held there for a minute, then straightened up and walked over to me. Keeping his voice barely above a whisper, he told me:

“We need to get rid of the bottles. I will get these; you check the kitchen.”

“Right,” I nodded. I still didn’t really get what his plan was, since I knew he didn’t want to stay for long, but I wasn’t going to argue against dispatching of the alcohol present. So, while he cleared the area around the chair and picked up what was scattered around the living room, I went through the fridge and all the kitchen drawers, producing six more bottles that, so far, hadn’t been opened. Kopaka, meanwhile, also checked the bedroom, but found nothing there. We took the bottles outside and set them down next to the crates already present.

“We need to get rid of these, completely,” Kopaka repeated. “Can you go and find some place to throw them away?”

“Sure,” I answered. “Just… what are you planning on doing?” Kopaka sighed, then thought for a moment.

“Just get rid of the bottles,” he answered as he turned to head back inside.

“Right then…” I looked up and down the street, hoping to spot some kind of dump site, but I didn’t see any at first. On a hunch, I took the two crates and headed down the road south, where within a minute or two I came across a side alley. It was only a narrow space between the sides of two taller buildings, but it seemed to be a common dumping ground for garbage, judging by the number of boxes and bags that were already stashed near the entrance. Figuring that the bottles would blend in just fine, I pulled them out of the crates and stacked them next to a couple of steel bins. I returned to Pohatu’s place with the empty crates, loaded up the rest of the bottles, and then took them away as well. By now, it had gotten properly chilly outside, so I was glad when I could head back in even though the heating in Pohatu’s place was pretty dismal. To my surprise, I found Kopaka in the kitchen, scrubbing some long caked-on food remnants off of a set of plates.

“Doing the dishes?” I observed. He didn’t answer to me pointing out the obvious. Looking around the kitchen, I noticed he’d already cleaned up some of the pots and pans that had been lying around the place earlier. “So, we came back to clean Pohatu’s house?”

“That is part of it,” Kopaka replied. “I do not want it to look so disheveled.”

“Right…” I nodded. I wasn’t all that surprised that Kopaka may have wanted the house to reflect his usually organized mind, but he’d insisted repeatedly that we weren’t staying for long, so what was the point? “So, you think that a clean house will help Pohatu clean up his act?” I asked, somewhat incredulously.

“No,” he answered, “but while I wait for him to sober up I might as well do something.”

“Fair point,” I agreed. “So, while you’re doing this, I’ll… straighten up the bedroom?”

“Go ahead,” he answered. So I did, and soon found that, apart from making the bed, there wasn’t much to do in the bedroom. In a small side closet, I found Pohatu’s armor, two heavy, metal blocks, and a set of pincer-like contraptions all lying in a pile. At first, the purpose of the blocks and pincers eluded me, but then I recognized them as Pohatu’s Toa tools. Judging by the layer of dust and the rust spots that covered them, I imagined they hadn’t been taken out in ages. In fact… pretty much everything in the place was very, very dusty, so with little else to do, I retrieved a wet rag from the kitchen and proceeded to wipe it off. The armor soon got some of its sheen back, though the rust was still evident. Returning to the kitchen, I found that Kopaka was cleaning off the countertops and empty cabinets, so I followed his example, went back to the bedroom, and wiped down every horizontal surface I could find. First the windowsill, then the side tables, then the shelf in the closet… At one point, a familiar hacking noise from the living room attracted my attention; Pohatu was about to throw up again, it seemed. By the time I got there, though, Kopaka’d already arrived on scene with a pot, which in the aftermath he’d clearly have to wash again.

“Choking again, huh?” I observed from the bedroom doorway.

“Thankfully, he is not in as bad a way as he was last time,” Kopaka identified. He set the pot down beside the chair; the Toa of Stone had returned to peaceful slumber. Kopaka got up and looked around. By virtue of its emptiness, the living room was already quite clean, with the exception of the thick layers of dust on the desk, the telescreen, and the shelves populated by the lone remaining trophy. He turned and lowered the volume on the telescreen to zero. “Dust these off,” he gestured over the desk and at the shelves. “I will take care of the pot… again.” With that, he picked up the pot and took it back to the kitchen. I followed him, rinsed the rag, and came back to clean off the shelves, looking back periodically to see if Pohatu was doing okay. Lying back in that chair, he looked relatively fine; out of shape, yes, and definitely in need of maintenance, but nothing on the outside really betrayed how far his mind had gone. Indeed, knowing that sooner or later, the Toa Nuva of Stone had to wake up, I found myself wondering what state of mind he’d be in, and what exactly Kopaka was planning to do about it.

It was about thirty minutes later that Kopaka finally seemed satisfied; I’d gone over all the shelves, and the trophy as well, while he’d practically turned the kitchen upside down, finding lots of old, rotten, and broken things to throw out in the process. One of the crates out front served as makeshift trash can.

“Well, I guess it does look a lot better now…” I looked around the living room at the result of our handiwork.

“Significantly,” Kopaka concurred.

“So,” I yawned, “what exactly was the point of all this? Are we staying a while?”

“No,” Kopaka answered as he turned for the door.

“We’re leaving? Now?” I followed behind.

“No, we are not,” Kopaka answered. “Get rid of that.” He pointed at the garbage crate by the door. “Leave it wherever you left the bottles.” I noticed his mood was dropping again; not frustration per se… more anxiety, anxiety about what was coming. It made me wonder whether the surface house cleaning was just to kill time.

“Uhm, sure…” I moved past him, picked up the crate, and headed out the door. The offal inside had quite the stench about it, which made the trip decidedly more unpleasant than the previous two had been. This time, I elected just to leave the whole crate behind; given its rickety state, and with the garbage and the bottles gone, I figured that it had done its job. On the way back, I started trying to think of what the point of this whole endeavor was. Kopaka’d already acknowledged, last time, that there was nothing he could really do for Pohatu, or was concerned to do… and yet here we were. What was he planning to do, and for that matter, what had prompted the change of plan in the first place? He still hadn’t answered… perhaps, perhaps that was because he didn’t really know the answer himself. Of course, he wouldn’t admit it if he didn’t, but it seemed a reasonable possibility. I returned to the house to find that Pohatu was no longer occupying the chair; Kopaka’d moved him to the bed, and had taken up the same post beside him that he’d occupied a few nights before, with a pot still at the ready.

“It’s gone,” I informed him, not proceeding past the doorway into the bedroom.

“Good,” he answered.

“So… anything else we could do?” I wondered. Kopaka looked up to me.

“You look tired,” he observed, quite to my surprise.

“Yeah, it’s been a long day…” I suddenly realized. Between running around Onu-Koro-Nuva on four hours of sleep, the long train ride, and midnight cleaning, I was starting to feel it.

“Get some rest,” Kopaka advised.

“I thought we weren’t staying long,” I remarked.

“We would not be…” Kopaka admitted as he turned back to Pohatu, “…but he wasn’t ready.”

“Oh… okay,” I nodded. “Ready for what?”

“Just… go and sleep for a while,” he sighed.

“Okay, sure…” I yawned again. Don’t take me wrong; I welcomed the opportunity to use that chair again, but I really didn’t want to miss what Kopaka was planning. He seemed so… uncharacteristically conflicted about it: the hesitations, the way he seemed to stall for time, the musing… The air of unease of this second trip had been palpable ever since he’d gotten back on that train after I showed him Onua’s demise. Back then, there’d been a sense of purpose, an angry spirit that seemed to drive him back, but that had vanished within minutes when the train got rolling, like it had been a heat-of-the-moment decision. The Kopaka I knew didn’t do things on impulse like that, yet this whole trip back seemed to have started with one. Was that what bothered him so? The fact that he had been propelled into action by a moment of unchecked emotion? With the opportunity for some shut-eye in the comfiest chair in the world, I wasn’t going to question it now, but after whatever this was ended, I definitely had some questions for the Toa Nuva of Ice. Unfortunately, the returning of Toa Nuva company meant the return of the… unintended mind-reading. I had been lucky to remain clear of it on the train trip back, but this night I once again experienced what, to me, were more like nightmares.

 

-*-*-

 

I’m in a tunnel again. By virtue of it being a tunnel, it is difficult to know where exactly, but the fact that there’s only one lightstone here, the one laying in the tunnel behind me, makes it pretty clear that this isn’t a mining tunnel. It’s small, with a ceiling barely a foot higher than I am tall, and I’m standing at the end of it, it seems. I’m holding out my blade in front of me. The tip just touches the wall of earth and stone in front as I channel my elemental powers through it, causing what little moisture exists in the ground to rapidly freeze. The cold… the cold makes things brittle, I know, and now that glittering streaks of ice crisscross the wall in front of me, I think it’s just about brittle enough… I raise my shield and activate my mask. A tremendous surge of power seems to flow through me as, with a deafening crash, I bring the shield down and shove it forward, impacting the heavy metal disk into the wall with as much force as I can muster. It works: deep cracks have appeared, radiating out from the impact. I raise the shield, and bring it down again. This time, the wall gives way, the rocks breaking into pieces that come tumbling down. I begin shoving the pulverized rubble aside, clearing the six foot or so section that I’ve opened up, and move the lightstone forward. Satisfied, I pause and listen for a moment… there’s an intermittent sound, a sound of stone grinding against stone, coming from somewhere in the earth nearby…

Instinctively, I immediately assume a ready stance, frosty air already condensing around my blade. I switch back to the Akaku Nuva; whatever is coming for me will not have the element of surprise. Just as I activate the mask, the wall to my right gives way in a cascade of earth and rock, forcing me aside and against the opposite wall. For a moment, I fear a tunnel collapse, but I’m not buried. Instead, looking at the pile of rubble that now occupies part of the tunnel, I notice something inside… the glimmer of metal. Quickly, I clamber onto the rubble and, putting my weapon to the side, start removing rocks to excavate whatever it is. It takes mere moments, and I recognize it immediately; it’s one of Pohatu’s tools! Not wasting a moment, I stow it away and activate my mask, scanning the collapsed earth and the wall opposite me. I see, I see… two rahkshi! Their armor looks battered, crushed… but I cannot guarantee they are dead. Best to leave them be, but… buried very, very close to them is the other tool, and buried not ten feet away… it’s Pohatu!

Upon identifying the Toa of Stone, I immediately get up, move to the end of the tunnel, and place my blade against the wall in his direction. Once again, I send my elemental powers into the wall, stone cracking as I fill every free orifice with ice and freeze what little water the ground already contains. I’m going all out on this one; the fewer hits it takes to get to Pohatu, the better his chances. Satisfied that the wall ahead of me is almost covered in a solid sheet of ice, I switch masks again, to the Pakari Nuva. I take a step back, and activate the mask, feeling that surge of energy coursing through my body again… and shove forward, bashing my shield into the wall. Much of it crumbles and collapses around me; I put an arm over my head, wait for the falling rocks to subside, and open my eyes. There’s more frozen wall ahead. I repeat the process, hurling myself shield-first into the next wall with all my might, and again, the earth crumbles in front of me. This time, when I look up, I see an arm! Wasting no time, I clamber over the rubble I’ve just created, and start digging at the arm’s shoulder, where it retreats into the wall. I keep the Pakari on, using the extraordinary strength it provides to tear aside one rock, one clump of earth after another, frantically digging towards Pohatu’s head. Less than a minute later, I’ve exposed his face… his eyes are closed, and his mask has a few dents, but he could be, he has to be okay.

“Wake up…” I lean close and whisper, not wanting to be surprised by Rahkshi bursting through the wall on my right. Pohatu offers no response, so I try again: “Wake up,” a little louder. I put a hand around his mouth and shake his head a bit. For a moment, there’s no response, but then, a cough! Suddenly, his eyes spring wide open.

“Whoa!” he exclaims, struggling to catch his breath. “Onu-Koro! The Matoran! The Rahkshi…” he looks over and suddenly notices me. “Kopaka!?”

“Keep it down,” I urge him. He takes the advice and looks around as much as his still-restrained body will let him. “You are okay,” I advise. “Here, I will get you out…”

“I, I think I got it…” he protests as, under his influence, some of the rocks already begin to move. I help out, pulling aside one after another, and it’s not long before my brother is free.

“What happened?” I ask him.

“Onu-Koro…” he answers with a slight tremble to his voice. “Rahkshi arrived; Onua and I couldn’t stop them. He brought down the roof to slow them down.”

“Brought down the roof on Onu-Koro?” I must admit I’m surprised. “Was that the loud rumbling I heard?”

“No doubt,” Pohatu concurs. “The Onu-Matoran got out, but the village is no more…”

“That is too bad,” I commiserate, “but we have to warn the others.”

“The chronicler and the Captain of the Guard were here,” Pohatu continues. “They escaped, too; I’m sure they got word out already.” He stands up and stretches, trying to get over the stiffness that comes with being buried for several hours.

“In that case, we should join them,” I assert. “By the way,” I take out the Toa tool, “I believe this is yours.”

“So it is, thanks,” he smiles, taking the tool back and momentarily inspecting it for damage.

“Where is Onua?” I wonder.

“You didn’t find him?” Pohatu’s expression is suddenly a worried one.

“No.”

“Well, he’s got to be around here somewhere,” the Toa of Stone continues, immediately switching to his own Akaku. “Let’s scan the rock.”

“Right.” I concur, switching my mask as well. Again, activating it seems almost like a summons more than anything, as a sudden rumbling sound catches both of us off guard.

“Where’s that coming from?” Pohatu asks, but before I can answer, a metal… thing suddenly emerges from the wall beside me, accompanied by the sound of a screaming engine.

“I believe I have an answer!” I shout over the noise as the screaming object moves down, carving a deep gash into the wall, after which it finally stops.

“Move back!” a voice calls from inside; I do so immediately, and barely in time as a sudden, loud impact sends the wall flying towards me in pieces. Peering over my shield after the rocks have settled, I spot a familiar Toa standing in the newly created entrance.

“What was all that noise about?” Onua asks.

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  • 3 weeks later...

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Chapter 43

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It was nice to wake up from an unintentional memory reading without being drenched in cold sweat, though I wasn’t feeling all that rested yet. I looked around. It was still dark out; it couldn’t have been long since I’d fallen asleep, but since Pohatu’s apartment lacked a clock of any kind I couldn’t tell what time it actually was. Then again… I got up, loathe to leave the comfy chair behind, and made my way over to the telescreen. Making sure the sound volume was as low as it would go, I turned it on and eventually found a news channel that had a clock on screen: 1:32 AM. Unsurprisingly, at this hour, there wasn’t much news to report or to watch, so my mind drifted back again to what I’d just seen. This last memory was different, different from the ones I’d seen before. I’d seen some of the best and worst moments in the Toa Nuva’s collective history, but they’d always been… heated memories, I guess. Ones in which there was a lot of anger, a lot of arguing and/or fighting. I hadn’t really seen much in the way of happy memories, or ones in which some actual success was achieved without resorting to desperate measures; given the Toa Nuva’s current situation, I guess they didn’t come to anyone’s mind much. Granted, even this last one was in the aftermath of one of those desperate measures, but it seemed hopeful in a way that many of the others didn’t. Before, the memories I’d inadvertently picked up had always seemed somehow relevant to what the thinker was experiencing at the time… so, speaking of the thinker, how was he doing?

I found Kopaka still sitting by Pohatu’s bedside, empty pot at his feet just in case the need for it would suddenly arise. He was facing the bed, sitting in his usual, hunched over meditative pose. Walking into the bedroom, I noticed that his eyes were off in the distance somewhere, looking through the small, high window of the bedroom. I stood there for a bit, unsure of whether I really wanted to jog him out of it at this hour, but then he snapped out of it himself.

“Lis.” He didn’t move, didn’t look at me, and his voice had an unusual softness to it.

“Yeah, I’m here,” I replied, wondering whether or not he was going somewhere with the conversation. I waited for a while, but it didn’t seem like he was; he’d acknowledged my presence, but that would be it from his side.

“How is he?” I asked.

“Improving,” Kopaka answered. “He appears to be doing better than last time.”

“That’s good, I guess…” I wasn’t sure where to go with that, and once again, Kopaka seemed content to leave the subject be. “So, I saw something again,” I began, then waited, trying to gauge his response. At first, I got no reaction.

“Go on,” he eventually said.

“It… it was after something in Onu-Koro,” I recalled. “You were digging, like, actually making a tunnel, and you found Pohatu buried deep down with some Rahkshi.”

“Onu-Koro, yes…” he remembered. “I heard the rumbling sound and made my way to one of its vents… it had collapsed, as had everything below.”

“Right, and Pohatu and Onua were left down there while the Matoran escaped,” I filled in.

“They sacrificed themselves,” Kopaka said, his eyes falling onto Pohatu again. “I suspect they would have been left down there if I had not found them.”

“I could feel that,” I added. “I could feel you were… worried about them, and I could feel the weight lifted when you found him and he woke up.” I gestured towards Pohatu.

“Worried?” Kopaka turned to me, his voice taking on a harsher tone. “I was doing my duty, Lis. We could not leave them down there. Even if it was not me, someone else would have gone to search for them, and if not Onua would have survived on his own. He would not have left Pohatu behind. I simply happened to get there first.” His explanation made some sense, but he was being rather defensive about it, I felt.

“That’s unusually humble for you,” I pointed out.

“Not humble, practical,” he corrected, turning his attention back to the Toa in the bed.

“Look, it’s not a bad thing,” I pointed out. “I mean, I would’ve been worried, too. And happy afterwards. Like, let’s celebrate happy.” He didn’t pick up on the comment. I sighed: “Whatever… you still saved him.”

“So it seems,” he concluded. We sat in silence, him watching over Pohatu as always while I pondered the significance of him thinking about that time he saved Pohatu in our current situation. Then I got an idea.

“So, is that what you’re doing now?” I asked.

“Doing what?”

“Saving him,” I explained. “Saving him from… from himself. Getting him out of the bottle and all.” Kopaka sighed, his eyes staying on Pohatu as he seemed to ponder an answer. On the plus side, that meant he was considering not immediately shutting me down. Perhaps he’d even admit that I’d figured it out… okay, maybe that was too hopeful.

“No,” he finally said.

“No?” I was a bit taken aback. Why else could he have been thinking of that particular memory? “What is it, then?” I asked again.

“As I said before, you will see,” he replied, sounding agitated. He wasn’t the only one feeling that way, though.

“You already said we will not be staying long,” I reminded him, “so yeah, I guess you’re not here to save him, but you wouldn’t come back just to clean up his house either…”

“Lis…” he interrupted, his voice becoming stern without raising its volume. Its implication was clear.

“I’m just trying to figure it out,” I continued. “I mean, on our first time in the city there at least was a plan, but I’m honestly not sure what you’re going for here, and it doesn’t make sense to me. So, I’m trying to reason my way to whatever you’re doing.”

“Reason in silence,” he ordered, “or leave. You always have that option.”

“No, I can’t,” I countered, “because something’s different about this trip, and about you. Ever since I showed you what happened with Onua, you’ve been… different. I want to know what’s up.”

“I was working on the plan,” Kopaka explained, “and I had no reason to make you privy to it.”

“And I suppose you still don’t, right?”

“I do not,” he concluded.

“Fine…” I relented. “I’ll see you in the morning, I guess.” I turned and was about to walk out when he posed a question.

“What time is it?”

“Time? Little after one-thirty,” I answered. Looking back, I noticed just for a moment that he seemed… disappointed. Worried, even, and not just in the way that I’d been feeling ever since we got back on that train. It was more like a spike, like he realized he’d lost track of the time. “What’s so important about it?” I asked.

“Could you watch him?” Kopaka circumvented the question.

“Him?” I gestured towards Pohatu. “I could, I guess… Are you tired?”

“I have something I need to take care of,” Kopaka replied.

“At one-thirty in the morning?” I questioned. “What could you possibly do at this hour?”

“Not your concern,” he answered as he got up.

“You’re not going away, are you?” I realized, “not now.”

“No. I will be back,” he assured me.

“I wouldn’t put it above you to leave regardless,” I continued. “I mean, you’ve already walked out of here once. Why wouldn’t you do it now?”

“Because, as I already told you, I have unfinished business,” Kopaka explained. “What I am going to do will not affect that.

“I hope it doesn’t…” I trailed off as he moved past me.

“Just make sure he does not drown,” he instructed as he exited the room and made his way to the front door.

“How long before you’ll be back?” I called after him.

“One hour.” With that, he was out of the building, leaving me to wait and wonder whether he’d really come back. Granted, when he’d told me that he had unfinished business, it had always been implied that it was here, but somehow I wasn’t all that confident that he wouldn’t construct an elaborate ruse just to get away for good. All he had to do was to find a way to frame it around duty, I figured. Then again, if all he’d wanted to do was to get away, he could’ve done so already… Pondering this, I stepped back into the bedroom and took up his post by the side of the bed. Pohatu was still out cold, no surprise there, and judging by the state of the bucket he really was doing better than when last we met him. I recalled how that had ended; two brothers and former best friends, the only friend as far as one of them was concerned, at loggerheads over the question of the Toa Code… Pohatu counted among the many I’d now met who believed the title of Toa to be superfluous in this new world, while Kopaka championed it, if only to make some sense of the life he now pursued. From what Kopaka’d said afterwards, I’d figured their friendship had ended there in his mind, but his behavior now indicated that was far from the case. Still, in light of everything he’d told me, what could he possibly do here in as short a time as he’d said he’d intended to stay?

Getting nowhere with that, I instead found myself looking into Pohatu again. I’d gotten a look at what was left of his mind before, when he’d woken up and not realized who Kopaka was. It’d been a rough experience, given that I’d also seen their last goodbye before then, but it had become immediately clear to me then that Pohatu’s mind was slipping and had been for some time. The deluge of pain signals had shocked me, too. Now, with time to spare and with the Toa of Stone alone and at rest, perhaps I could look a bit closer… I focused in on him almost before I realized what I was doing; I was getting better at this. As I focused, the broad, baseline strokes of his mental state started to unravel and split into countless more detailed strands, anything and everything that he was processing contained within. Most of it looked normal, for someone asleep, though the same ‘dark spots’ that I’d noticed before were still there, and a few ‘red strands’ were interwoven throughout. A brain at rest it may have been, but a healthy brain it wasn’t, the damage of years spent drunk or hung over clearly evident.

After a while, an intermittent flash of activity caught my eye. At first, I thought it was some kind of cyclic process, I guess, some signal his brain sent to his body on a regular schedule, like the beat of a heartlight but slower. However, it was more complex than that, so I started to focus on the spot where it appeared. I waited a few seconds, and sure enough, it happened again… and for a brief moment, I saw something. An image, or a fragment of one, a small snapshot of a dream, perhaps. But dreams would present a constant flow of information, of some kind of process going on, which this wasn’t. I waited for it to appear again, hoping to catch whatever it was and get a clearer view this time…

-*-*-

It’s dark… a cave of some kind, I suspect. But it’s not a natural cave; no way. Lots of columns are dispersed around its perimeter, and a carving of something is on the opposite wall, maybe… fifty feet away? That’s not my concern, though… There’s something on the columns and the floor around them, some kind of dark, green webbing, a grimy, organic looking substance that should have no space in a cave.

“What do you see?” a slightly anxious voice calls from behind me. I turn to see, standing on the stairs in a tunnel leading upwards, is a Matoran. He’s unusually small, and his colors make no sense, but…

Krrr-Chuck! SPLOTCH! The sound of some kind of mechanism going off is followed rapidly by a heavy blob of some kind of mucoid substance hitting me in the side of the head. My vision is gone instantly. Bolts of pain shoot through me as this, whatever this is, seems to set my nerves on fire. An ominous chittering sound accompanied by the unmistakable whirr of motors seems to be coming from my right… it’s an ambush!

-*-*-

The memory ended as abruptly as it began; a mere fragment it may have been, but… what was happening there? Then I realized something; there was a flurry of signals flying all over the place all of the sudden, signals that weren’t there before I started to focus on that spot where these fragments appeared. Wondering what exactly they represented, I drew back a bit, trying to figure out the origin. Then I detected another center of activity, so to speak, which seemed to be slowly but surely igniting the region around it. At the time, I didn’t realize what that meant; I did notice that part of the same region that I’d just been observing lit up again, too, and quickly focused in on it hoping to catch whatever happened next in that memory fragment I’d seen. Given the duration of the previous fragments, it should’ve vanished before I ever cobbled together a decent picture, but instead, this one seemed to last longer…

-*-*-

It’s dark, but this isn’t the cave. I can’t seem to focus my eyes at all, but the slight tint of brown as opposed to green to whatever place I’m in makes it pretty clear that this is not where I was before… it seems I’ve lost my opportunity. Still, I’m getting some of the smell of this place, and it’s an awfully familiar one. Slowly but surely, my eyes are beginning to adjust, and I can make out that I am in a room, probably looking at the ceiling. A spot of movement on the right side of my vision catches my attention; looking there, I notice a flicker of a shadow before it’s gone again… what was that? Is there something in this room with me? Who’s there? Again, I notice movement in my peripheral vision, this time to the left, or right in front of where I was looking before. Again, it seems to vanish the moment I look at where it appeared to be. What kind of phantoms… hang on, there’s something else.

My eyes slowly drift to the left, where something seems to be emitting a faint, blue light. Noticing it, I look towards the source; there’s two of them, but they’re just a little too bright to distinguish what they are while my eyes are adjusted to the dark… I look away slightly but keep the lights in my peripheral vision, then raise myself up to a half-sitting position and slowly turn back to the lights as I start to make out more details. Those two lights… they’re eyes! Eyes with a faint, pale blue glow, belonging to a dark figure that’s just sitting there, sitting on a chair and looking at me. It’s not moving a muscle, sitting almost at attention, but that gaze… it’s haunting, in the sense that it seems to look beyond me, into me, through me. What is this, this… thing? I start picking up on some details of its body. It’s armored… armored with shades of some dark color, but highlights in gold. Hang on… highlights in gold. In gold! That’s me!

-*-*-

The moment it dawned on me that I was looking at the present, not the past, I immediately drew back from the picture, and from Pohatu’s mind altogether. That process, that igniting of the nerve endings was him waking up! I’d gotten so caught up in his mind, was looking so closely at what was happening there, that I’d paid no attention to what I was actually seeing. I blinked once, twice, then found myself fully back in the room. I almost jumped at the sight; Pohatu was no longer lying down, he was sitting half-upright just as I’d felt him doing for that moment, and his face, his eyes were dead-locked on mine. He said nothing, didn’t move a muscle, in fact he barely seemed to be breathing… like he was echoing what he was seeing in me, except in his eyes were empty. Like, when you look into anyone else’s eyes, you can usually see sign of life, of intelligence, ever so slight. Somehow you can just tell that. But here, in Pohatu’s, that spark was missing. His was a dead-eyed gaze, devoid of any sign of personality, of emotion, of recognition… like a man possessed, and nothing like the Pohatu I’d seen before. It was eerie beyond what I can describe, and for a second or two I just sat there, frozen in response, unsure of whether he would lash out, scream, or do something else I wouldn’t like at all, but he remained devoid of any motion whatsoever.

“Uhm… hello?” I said timidly. Somehow, I felt like I’d been caught in some kind of criminal act. Pohatu didn’t respond. “I’m Lis,” I introduced myself. “Do you remember me?” Not so much as a blink. It was like I was talking to a mannequin. “I was here before,” I continued, “a couple of nights ago. I was with Kopaka, your friend. Do you remember Kopaka?” Still nothing. “Tall guy, white armor… The Toa Nuva?” I tried again. “You served us breakfast. Bread and… something. Remember that?” Still silence. For a moment, I feared that his mind had locked up or something like that, and to be fair, with the way I’d looked, glowy-eyed, sitting motionless, and staring into his soul, I couldn’t have blamed him for being scared beyond his wits. Thinking that didn’t prepare me for his reaction, however.

He suddenly lurched forward, his mask coming within a foot of mine, bared his teeth, and produced a noise that I can only describe as something that started as a kind of bark but ended more as a loud hiss. “BRWASSSSSS!” I’d never heard the like of it, and for moment it all but scared the wits out of me.

“Whoa!” I bolted upright and took a step back from the aggressive display. Pohatu looked up, his eyes following mine, then suddenly clicked his teeth made that same primal sound again. “Hey, calm down,” I beckoned, raising my hands to try and placate him. “I’m not here to hurt you, I’m not here to do anything…”

“Go!” he exclaimed in a voice that was his yet not, between all the hissing and bared teeth. “GO AWAY!” he repeated, then followed up with the weird sound again.

“Okay, okay…” I continued to back up, and just in time as he suddenly reached out with one arm while supporting himself with the other and took a swing at me. “What are you doing?” I didn’t know what to make of this. Now that I was out of reach, Pohatu sat there, supporting himself with his arms, breathing audibly and quickly, and with his teeth still bared. He still hadn’t blinked.

“GO!” he repeated, “Go away. Away… hsssss” he trailed off into the hissing thing again, but then lurched forward and hurled up a yellowish, foul liquid; the remains of his late-night drinks. Reflexively, I reached for the pot, but doing so moved me closer to him, and he immediately reached out and whacked me in the side of the head with his hand. I managed to grab the pot, but by the time I was back up and out of reach of his arms the damage had been done; the smell of alcohol filled the room as the sizable volume of liquid began to soak into the carpet, leaving a few solid chunks behind. I almost threw up myself in response, but took a step back again and avoided looking at the floor instead. Pohatu shouted “Go away!” again, his voice getting raspy and his display now enhanced by trails of the liquid and spittle still running out of his mouth. “GO AWAY! GO! GONE!” I honestly didn’t know what to make of this; had he gone mad? Was he somehow possessed? If so, by what? For that matter, the amount of noise he was producing was bound to attract unwanted attention soon.

“Stop it!” I shouted back, hoping that perhaps volume would get through to him. It didn’t.

“GO AWAY! GO AWAY! BRWASSSS!” he hissed, howled, and shouted as though those two words and that sound were the only thing he was capable of producing. Whatever state of mind it was, clearly I wasn’t going to get to him with words… I had to try something else.

Given that I was out of his reach and that movement was… let’s say tricky for him, I decided to enter in on his mind again to see if I could calm him from the inside. Standing almost in the doorway, I focused on his head, trying to get passed the savage look on his face that was still leaving me shaken. Soon, those signals were coming into view again, and I noticed it was chaos in there. Lots of red signals among others, but just in general Pohatu’s brain seemed to be in some kind of frenzy, making it difficult to discern anything meaningful. I kept trying, blocking the noise out as much as possible, and eventually noticed a particular area that seemed to be sending out a boatload of signals. They were bright ones, loud ones if you will, dominating ones, and they were flooding his brain. This… this had to be it. I didn’t know exactly what the consequences would be, but I decided that I had to dampen this somehow. So I put up barriers, trying to surround this… region, to stop the overriding signals from getting out. It was hard, very hard, but slowly I started to see some success. With me blocking as many of the panic signals as I could, things did indeed start to slow down. Momentarily satisfied, I drew back a bit to get an idea of what he was looking like now.

His eyes were still locked on me, but the look of aggression in his face was dropping, changing to one of bewilderment. I could best describe it as a deer-in-the-headlights look, one that signaled panic could still start at any moment, but at least now he was quiet. So, I kept at it, hoping that dropping that panic even further might bring him to reason. It didn’t, really. He calmed down, but rather than the return of the Pohatu I knew, I drew back at the end to find it was as though he’d lost interest in me completely and had fallen asleep again, still sitting up. I stood still, watching, and waiting to see if he would wake up, or lie down or do something else, but no, he was shut down again. I was shaking and sweating all over; Pohatu’s sudden hostility and my exertions in calming him had left me drained. Still, I laid him back down and put the bedsheets in order, trying to ensure everything visually was just as before. It took a while before I felt comfortable enough to sit down again, though; that image of Pohatu, or rather that Pohatu that wasn’t Pohatu, was still at the forefront of my mind, and it was awfully scary… was this what happened when someone truly did lose their mind?

Was this what madness looked like?

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  • 2 weeks later...

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Chapter 44

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After that display, I didn’t dare look into Pohatu’s mind again , fearful of waking him up a second time; no telling what kind of state he’d be in if he did. To keep myself occupied, I spent a few minutes with a rag picking up what solid pieces of his dinner were left on the floor, but I couldn’t do much about the stain. Then again, the carpet in this bedroom had seen so many liquids spilled onto it that, visually at least, another stain really didn’t make much of a difference so long as no one stepped in it for a while. Anxious about Pohatu and with not much else to do, the time still seemed to me to pass very slowly, the clock on the telescreen barely creeping towards 2:30. As it got closer, I started to get worried about whether or not Kopaka’d come back. Not knowing what he was doing was worrisome enough, but the idea that he could’ve just booked it was never far from my mind, in spite of his reassurances to the contrary and the fact that, logically, he didn’t seem to have a reason to leave yet, unless cleaning up this place and watching Pohatu for half the night really had been his goal all along.

I also spent the time keeping a very close eye on Pohatu; though he hadn’t stirred since I’d laid him down in the bed again, the thing I’d seen in him when he had woken up kept me on my toes. It was bizarre, like he was a different person altogether, or not a person at all… he couldn’t have deteriorated that quickly over just three days, could he? I mean, it’d taken him hundreds of years to get to that point, so three days to go from merely forgetful to beyond himself seemed way too quick; he couldn’t be either one all the time. That was a frightening notion: what if, sometimes, he was one and sometimes the other? One misfired signal, one irregularity in his brain, and ‘Pohatu’ was just turned off, replaced by this, this thing… did his psyche just hang by a thread like that, all the time? I hadn’t really believed Pohatu when he’d said that he was so far gone last time, but what I’d seen now made a pretty convincing argument that, in fact, he was in a far worse way than he’d initially appeared. I didn’t want to ask the question, but couldn’t stop myself from wondering whether or not there really was a way back from that… Pohatu certainly didn’t seem to think so, not when we were here last. For that matter, even Hewkii, his long-time admirer, had pretty much given up on him, providing what he needed to live but not making an effort to change his ways anymore. Like Pohatu himself, it was almost, almost like he was just waiting for him to die.

As I pondered whether or not any help could actually save Pohatu in light of what I’d seen, he stirred again. He just rolled his head to a side, but since I was still a bit jumpy, I immediately got up and took a step back. First off, I didn’t want him to wake up to see me sitting right next to him, gazing into him as he had the last time, and secondly I didn’t fancy being in his reach regardless. He didn’t stir again for the next minute or so. I sighed, believing that I’d avoided a second confrontation, then quietly made my way to the living room to see on the telescreen what time it was: 2:33 AM. Kopaka should be back any minute. I looked to the door, almost expecting it to swing open and to find him standing there, but nothing happened. Disappointed in spite of the knowledge that Kopaka arriving exactly when I looked at the door would’ve been just too much of a coincidence, I went back to the bedroom, and found that, to my shock, Pohatu’d moved again; he’d raised an arm and had placed the hand on the back of his neck.

“Ugh…” he groaned, moving the hand and rubbing his temple. For a second, I stood there, unsure of what exactly I should do; he was clearly waking up, and I didn’t know whether he’d… you know, be himself, but I didn’t want to just shut him down again if I could help it. So, staying close to the doorway, I waited. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and looked at the window. He didn’t say anything, but the fact that it was still dark out seemed to disappoint him all the same as he rolled his head over to the other side… only to notice me standing in the doorway. His eyes widened immediately, and for a second or two he seemed frozen except for those eyes, trying to focus and look me up and down… I feared that he’d repeat what had happened earlier, but no, there was something different this time. That ‘spark’ that was missing last time, it was there now, though the expression on Pohatu’s face was still one of bewilderment, not to mention fear. But hey, at least it was an expression of some kind.

“Hello,” I cautiously greeted him again, not yet taking a step closer. He kept staring at me in utter silence, which was worrying to say the least. However, after a few seconds he finally seemed to find his words.

“It is night…” he said, in a voice barely above a whisper. “Nothing comes at night…”

“No, I was watching over you,” I began before realizing that that perhaps wasn’t the most placating way to start a conversation.

“Watching?” he questioned.

“Making sure you were alright,” I elaborated. “You… you had a rough evening.”

“Rough evening…” he repeated, his voice seeming to trail off at every word. Granted, the fact that there were words was comforting, but it was distressingly obvious that there still wasn’t much going on behind them.

“You woke up earlier,” I attempted to explain, but I wasn’t sure how to describe what I saw. “You… you were not feeling so good.”

“No, I… I never do,” he replied. “Never feel good anymore…” his eyes drifted away from me. “So the time of ghosts begins…”

“Ghosts?” I questioned.

“You, them, ghosts of the past…” Pohatu’s eyes drifted further to the point where he was pretty much looking at the ceiling. “Whatever you’re going to say, say it… I don’t know you, I don’t care… not enough for it to hurt anymore.”

“No,” I began, now realizing that he was mistaking me for one of his broken hallucinations, “I am not a ghost. I’m here, really.” His head slowly turned as his eyes fell back on me, his up until now tired and apathetic expression replaced by a much more focused, intense, dare I say ‘awake’ look.

“They all say that,” he said, slightly shaking his head, “and they are all wrong. But they… at least I knew them. You, you I do not. What depths of my mind did you get dragged up from?”

“No, I’m a real person,” I argued, “in this bedroom, right now. You’re not imagining things.”

“YOU’RE A FAKE!” he suddenly exclaimed, “AND I WILL NOT TAKE FROM YOU!” I stopped, shocked, and for a second or two silence reigned. “I may not know, may not remember much,” he continued in a much calmer, but still threatening voice, “but I know no one real comes here, not at this hour, not at any time. Only the phantoms, like you. You haunt me, you offer false hope only to take it away. All that matters is how long you’ll be here to torture me this time.” He spat on the ground in front of me. “Go ahead; try me, try the one who has nothing left to lose.” His tone of voice left no doubt as to his conviction that I was a mere product of his imagination, and one that he was willing to ‘wait out,’ so to speak. Deciding that arguing that concept was not in my interest, I switched tactics.

“Okay… you got me,” I relented. “Maybe I am just that, someone you’re imagining.” Pohatu sighed and laid back down, his eyes now back on the ceiling. “So, how long do I have, then?” I wondered.

“How long ‘till what?” he grumbled.

“’till I vanish again,” I explained.

“Hours, I’ll bet.”

“Hours, wow…” I’d imagined these hallucinations as a more come-and-go thing, but apparently when Pohatu saw them, they were here to stay for a while. I wasn’t entirely comfortable pretending to be one of them, but given that Pohatu was lucid, perhaps it’d allow me to ask some of the questions that I’d been meaning to. “So, if I’m from somewhere in your mind,” I continued, “who am I?”

“Who?” Pohatu scoffed. “ if I know.”

“You don’t remember me?” I asked.

“No.”

“Well, I’m Lis,” I introduced myself again, “and we’ve met before, three nights ago.”

“I don’t remember thee nights ago,” he said dourly. “Even yesterday is another country.”

“Well, I wasn’t alone,” I continued, “and I brought an old friend of yours. Do you remember him?”

“Friend? Ha!” Pohatu suddenly let out a spiteful laugh. “I have no friends. No one’d want to see what’s left of me, much less stay around.”

“And why is that?” I wondered. Pohatu turned and looked me straight in the eyes again.

“A dying, crippled, bitter drunk,” he spat. “, now even my ghosts are complaining about having to show up to mock me?”

“I’m not here to mock you,” I protested. “I’m here to help.”

“Help…” for a moment, a glimmer of hope crept into Pohatu’s face, though not a genuine one… “HA!” he exclaimed. “The fool thinks there’s something left to save here!”

“Isn’t there?” I asked, somewhat surprised at Pohatu’s apparent amusement regarding his situation.

“You must be some avatar of naivety,” the Toa of Stone mocked. “Try waking up feeling like your legs are on fire even though you can’t use them. Try coughing up your lungs on a daily basis. That’s what I deal with; never mind the fact that everything else is breaking, too; it’s the pain lottery over here.”

“Lottery?...”

“What’s gonna hurt today!?” he exclaimed, looking up and raising his arms to in frustration, or perhaps to feign excitement. Dropping his arms again, he turned back to me: “come morning, I won’t remember you were here. Another couple months and, hopefully, I won’t be around to remember anything at all. So tell me, Lis… what help could you possibly be?”

“I could help you get proper maintenance, for one,” I pointed out. “That could probably give you at least a few more years…”

“YEARS OF WHAT!?” he suddenly exclaimed. “AARGH!” a hand went to his side as, apparently, something inside suddenly snapped.

“Okay, calm down, please,” I moved forward, attempting to soothe him. “You’re hurting yourself.” He looked back up me and gave an almost cruel smile.

“Oh, am I?” he jested. “Well it, I hadn’t noticed.” I stopped, momentarily confused at his sarcastic tone; this still wasn’t the real Pohatu, not the one I’d seen and was really hoping to see again. “Stay back!” he warned. “You’re wasting your time!”

“You’re bitter and angry, I get it,” I tried to placate him again, “but please, let me try to fix it.”

“NO!” he exclaimed. I was now standing right next to the bed, but stopped short of actually touching him. “There’s nothing you can fix here! NOTHING!”

“Fine…” I gave in, realizing that, much as I wanted to help, winding him up was very much accomplishing the opposite. I took the seat by the bedside again instead. “You know, I feel sorry for you,” I said. “A hero like you shouldn’t be left like this… you deserve better.”

“Me? A hero?” he looked confused for a moment, still clutching his side. “I’ve got nothing but a yellow cup on a shelf. What kind of hero does that make me?”

“You’re a Toa,” I argued, “and one that saved a universe. You don’t remember any of that?”

“Beyond nightmares? Not really,” he answered bluntly. “I don’t remember seeing you before, and you were here… what, two days ago, you said?”

“Three days.”

“Three days…” he scoffed. “Well, regardless of what you say I did, it doesn’t change where I am now anyways, does it?” He looked down for a moment, sighed, then turned his attention to me again. “My body’s breaking down, I’m in constant pain, and now the range of ghosts that visit me on a nightly basis apparently includes you, the condescending one. That’s what I know,” he pointed at himself, “and as far as I’m concerned the end can’t come soon enough.”

“So I heard last time,” I recalled, “but the Pohatu I met then was a lot less… bitter about everything. What changed?”

“My so-called friend wouldn’t help,” the Toa of Stone nodded towards something past me. “Isn’t that right!?” he raised his voice.

“Wait, what…” I turned and was staggered to find Kopaka standing in the bedroom doorway. Before I got a chance to greet him, Pohatu launched into a virtual tirade.

“He wouldn’t do !” he called out. “Nothing at all! Wouldn’t even consider it!”

“Brother, please,” Kopaka began in a decidedly dismal tone.

“Don’t you brother me!” Pohatu continued. “I had but one wish left in this world, but one! And you, you… ! He wouldn’t even consider it because of that stupid title! Toa! Who gives a about Toa anymore!?” Kopaka stepped forward into the room, but didn’t interrupt Pohatu again. “All I want is to get out of this pain and misery,” the latter continued. “I have nothing left! NOTHING!”

“Brother, you have to calm down,” Kopaka said, now more sternly, as he stopped beside me. It wasn’t enough to slow Pohatu down.

“You’ve haunted me, haunted me for I don’t know long,” he continued, “making sure that you were the only one I remembered, the only one I could ask for. I was stupid enough to believe you, to believe that he’d be willing to help, to do anything at all… but you tricked me! All those years, making me think that he’d actually care about anyone but himself! you, and him! GET LOST!”

“Brother, enough!” Kopaka scolded. “I am not some figment of your imagination. I am the real Kopaka, and I am back.”

“Like you are,” Pohatu spat. “You played your game, told your lies… and I will never believe you again.”

“No, seriously, we’re both here,” I attempted to join in the argument. “Real people, not ghosts.” I gestured back and forth between myself and Kopaka. “Just like I was trying to tell you earlier.”

“No,” Pohatu shook his head. “No one comes here, no one real.” Without another word, he rolled right and lay down facing away from us, refusing to continue the argument. I looked to Kopaka, who seemed momentarily at a loss for words due to either frustration or hopelessness, I imagined. Eventually, he turned around and headed for the living room, stopping for a moment to gesture for me to follow, which I did. He led me into the kitchen, which was about as much out of earshot as it was possible to get from the bedroom, even though the two rooms were right next to each other.

“I told you to watch him,” he began in a hushed tone, “not to wake him.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, “but he kinda did that on his own. Twice.”

“Twice?”

“The first time, he was… not himself,” I explained. “More like… like an aggressive rahi.”

“A rahi?”

“It was scary,” I recalled. “He didn’t recognize me, didn’t recognize anything… He just screamed “go away” over and over. I had to force him back to sleep to calm him down.”

“You forced him back to sleep?” Kopaka questioned.

“Psionics,” I answered. Kopaka’s expression momentarily showed disapproval, but then quickly returned to its neutral state.

“You had to,” he said.

“Look, I was worried about him before, but based on what I saw it’s a lot worse than we thought,” I continued. “Who knows how often something misfires that leads him to behave like that? We might be insanely lucky that he didn’t do it last time, and that he’s not doing it now.”

“Indeed, he is not doing it now,” Kopaka confirmed as he turned and made his way back to the bedroom again with much more determination in his step than when he’d left it. I followed right behind, curious as to how that determination would manifest itself. I didn’t have to wait long. In fact, I didn’t have to wait at all.

“Enough, Brother,” Kopaka announced as he marched right up to the bed. Without warning, he reached over it and grabbed Pohatu’s shoulder, then pulled it, forcing him over to face us.

“Hey, what the !?” the Toa of Stone exclaimed.

“Can your ghosts do this?” Kopaka questioned as he gestured with his other hand to the shoulder he was maintaining a firm grip on.

“Get off of me!” Pohatu protested. He tried to push the Toa of Ice’s hand off of his shoulder, but to little avail as Kopaka immediately reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“I have no time for nonsense, brother,” he explained as he pulled Pohatu’s hand over and placed it against his mask. “Do I seem real yet?” he questioned.

“GET LOST!” Pohatu exclaimed in return, but there was little he could do. Though I’d been momentarily stumped by Kopaka’s suddenly rather aggressive approach, I quickly came to my senses.

“Hey, let him go!” I moved in, unsure of how exactly to get Kopaka to comply. “This can’t be good for him.”

“I am real, brother, I am here!” The Toa of Ice remained focused on Pohatu. “You know that it is me. You know!” Completely flustered, Pohatu didn’t reply; for a few seconds, tense silence fell over the room. Neither of the two Toa Nuva moved a muscle, their eyes locked as though they were in a contest of wills, while I stood by praying that Pohatu would come to his senses before Kopaka decided to take even more radical measures to prove that he wasn’t the ghost Pohatu believed him to be.

“Why…” Pohatu shook his head, “why would he come back… and yet you seem… real.”

“I am,” Kopaka confirmed, sounding encouraged. “I am him.”

“He… you left for good,” Pohatu remembered. His hand began to shake a little. Kopaka relaxed his grip. “You said farewell again; you’d never return.”

“That I did,” Kopaka confirmed again as he let go of Pohatu’s shoulder and wrist altogether and stood back up. “And that was my intention.”

“Then why?” Pohatu questioned. Kopaka didn’t immediately reply, so he continued: “what could possibly have brought you back here? You were done; we were done.”

“I…” Kopaka began, getting uncharacteristically hung up on the words. He cleared his throat, then tried again: “I-I changed my mind.”

The moment he said that, I finally realized what he was going to do. This whole trip back, his hesitation, the bizarre secrecy… he was thinking about Pohatu’s request, thinking about actually doing it. My heart sank. That request was against everything he’d told me, about the Toa code, about duty, about… himself.

“Changed your mind about what?” Pohatu wondered, not yet catching on.

“About what you asked of me,” Kopaka answered. “I have seen several things since that night, things that… put your request into perspective.”

“What request…” Pohatu seemed to come to the realization right on the word ‘request.’ “Oh, that one.” His voice fell as his eyes widened.

“Hang on, you’re not… you can’t…” I attempted to interrupt, but Kopaka immediately turned and glared at me with a look on his face that I’d only seen when he was about to launch into one of his tirades. For that moment, it stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Lis, stay back,” he ordered. “This is a matter between me and him; do not interfere.”

“B-But you said yourself that it would violate the Toa Code,” I hesitantly argued. “You can’t, you wouldn’t… at least explain yourself!” Kopaka sighed, lowered his head, then turned his attention to Pohatu again.

“You asked me when I was here last whether anyone actually cared about the Toa these days,” he explained. “The answer appears to be no. This world does not need Toa anymore, and even our brothers and sister willfully abandoned the code.” He glanced back at me for a moment, then back at Pohatu, cleared his throat again, and continued: “I have held myself to its standards to the best of my ability, but if the title has become so meaningless, then I… I will abandon it for you. If that offer is still on the table, I will kill you.”

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Chapter 45

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“You… You’ll do it?” Pohatu asked. “You’ll actually do it?” He clearly still didn’t believe it, and in that he wasn’t alone.

“Yes…” Kopaka answered. His voice had lost its usual authority, its power… he was wavering. “Yes, if I must… I will.”

“No, you won’t,” I stepped in. “You can’t!”

“Lis…” he began, but I wasn’t having it.

“No, you’re not just going to do this,” I continued, “not like this. You’re hesitating for a reason; you know it’s wrong. Don’t tell me that you’re doing this just because you’ve lost faith in the worth of the Toa Code. That’s not you. That’s not the Kopaka I know!”

“It is not about me, Lis,” he argued, avoiding eye contact.

“Since when!?” I exclaimed in disbelief. “Since when is it not about you? You said you were giving up the title! What else could it be about? Duty again? Your duty to the Matoran? Yeah right. This isn’t for the good of them, and it won’t do anything for you either, except you won’t be a Toa anymore! It doesn’t make sense!”

“That is because you do not know everything,” he replied, a hint of agitation creeping back into his voice.

“Then explain,” I demanded. “Explain to me why you’re really doing this, why you’re disgracing yourself and him! ‘cause right now, you can’t even look me in the eyes. You know this isn’t right!” He didn’t reply; his eyes remained fixed on the floor, but I could tell he was thinking, trying to come up with something to shut me up. “See!? You can’t just rationalize your way out of this one!” I drove the point home.

“Hey, he said he would do it,” Pohatu interrupted, “and he asked you to stay out of it. How about you go do that instead?”

“I won’t,” I turned to him, “because I know there’s a better option. You’ve given up, maybe, but I won’t let you take him, or yourself. With three Toa here, that can’t happen. There’s a lot more we can do for you that you just haven’t stopped to consider because you think death is your only way out.”

“Don’t tell me what I do or do not know!” Pohatu suddenly shouted back. “You don’t know how it feels to have the lights go out on you one by one!”

“No, but I know what it looks like,” I countered, “and it, I know he won’t stay, but I will do whatever I can to help. You’re wrong, Pohatu; there is something here I can fix, and even if there wasn’t we have to at least try!”

“You’d be wasting your time,” he shot back, “and you can’t fix this! You haven’t even seen the half of what is hurt, broken, or gone!”

“Maybe I haven’t,” I admitted, “but just because you don’t believe you can be helped doesn’t mean you shouldn’t let people try.” Pohatu seemed about to shout something back, but then paused for a moment instead. He had to be considering something; was I finally getting through to him?

“Look, I realize you’re trying to help,” he finally sighed, “but don’t waste your energy on me. I don’t want to be your waste of time, nor anyone else’s, and I can’t bear the feeling of my body giving out any longer.”

“Well, I can help with that, too,” I pointed out. “And you won’t be a waste of time; if anything, you’ll give me something to do… something I’d be happy to do.” Again, he paused for thought. I watched, waited, hoping that I’d changed his mind. I mean, I was willing to follow up on the promise, too; whether Kopaka was willing to stay or not (I suspected not), I was willing to be caretaker for Pohatu, to try and bring him back from this death spiral he was in. In particular, I remembered Nuparu talking about his regret in the wake of Onua’s death; he had all but given up on his friend for a while, too, and had potentially lost him for it. I was determined not to make the same mistake.

“No,” Pohatu spoke up.

“No?...” I was momentarily taken aback. What else could I offer him at this point?

“I am sorry,” he continued, changing his tone, “but I have made my decision. I do not want to stick around until there’s nothing left of me, and regardless of what you do that will be soon.”

“No, it won’t be,” I tried again. “It can’t be; you’re still fully aware and lucid now; the same was true when we were last here.”

“You have seen worse,” Kopaka pointed out.

“You have?” Pohatu looked up at his brother. “W-what did I do this time?”

“You were well below lucid not too long ago…” Kopaka began.

“That’s not the point,” I interrupted. “The point is that you’re not like that all the time, and I really do think I can help. Just… let me try.”

“Lis, he said he has made his decision,” Kopaka reminded me. “Leave it be.”

“No, I can’t!” I turned back to him. “This isn’t right, and you know it! You don’t have to give up everything you cared for, and he could live! That would be right, wouldn’t it!?”

“Yes, it would be,” he admitted.

“Then why?” I looked back to Pohatu. “You don’t have to die yet, and you don’t have to suffer either!”

“Because that would not be possible,” Kopaka said dourly.

“Of course it would be!” I argued. “I just explained how!”

“You are assuming his condition is curable,” Kopaka continued, “or at least manageable. I can tell you right now that it is not.”

“And how do you know?” I wondered. Kopaka merely nodded in Pohatu’s direction, so I looked to him, expecting some kind of follow-up. But Pohatu offered none; his eyes were oddly fixed on Kopaka. Again, silence fell over the room… I waited for an answer, an explanation, anything from either Toa, but neither offered any, so I spoke up again. “Look, I’ve seen one Toa die because he couldn’t, he wouldn’t accept help,” I pleaded with both of them, “and I will not let it happen again. I just can’t. It’s not right.” Silence ruled the room again. Kopaka looked to Pohatu, then cast his eyes to the floor when the Toa of Stone switched to looking back and forth between me and him. I was hoping, praying… was I getting through to them at last?

“Sorry,” Pohatu eventually spoke up, “but… who are you?” I was shocked. We’d just been talking; how had he already forgotten who I was? Kopaka, too, looked back up to his brother, whose expression was now one of bewilderment. “The ghosts… the ghosts are back…” The Toa of Stone’s face turned pale as the realization came over him.

“No, we are not ghosts,” Kopaka immediately responded. “Stay with me, brother; we are not ghosts. You were talking to us just a minute ago.”

“Talking… talking with you?” Pohatu’s voice was taking on more than a hint of panic. “About what… what do you want from me!?”

“Nothing, brother, nothing,” Kopaka assured him. “We mean you no harm. I am Kopaka. Do you remember me?”

“Kopaka…” Pohatu mused, but then seemed to remember something. “Kopaka… wait! You, you were gone…”

“Yes, and I am back now,” Kopaka led him on, though his voice betrayed exasperation. He leant in and placed a hand on Pohatu’s shoulder again. “We were talking earlier; do you remember what about?” Pohatu just… looked at him, blankly.

“Come on,” I encouraged, worried that somehow we’d lost him almost completely, “you have to remember something. Please.”

“Lis…” Kopaka said my name in that same, almost threatening tone again. It alone was tantamount to “shut up.”

“Lis… Kopaka…” Pohatu looked back and forth between us again. “D-do I know you?”

“No,” I said, barely above a whisper, more to myself than to anyone else. “No, it’s not like that. He can’t be gone just like that…” Kopaka sighed, then turned away from the bewildered Pohatu and towards me again.

“He is gone just like that,” he said, emphasizing the word “is.” I merely nodded ‘no’ in disbelief. The whole argument, the Pohatu I knew, the Pohatu I’d just had a conversation with, seemingly vanished in an instant. The very thing that I feared could happen after the first time he’d woken up had just taken place right in front of me; something must’ve misfired, or run into a broken pathway, or something... The thread had snapped, his mind gone blank, or at least his short-term memory was in pieces.

“You’re really here,” Pohatu murmured, looking towards Kopaka. “But… nothing real comes here… nothing.”

“No, brother, I am here,” Kopaka corrected. “I am here, I came back for you, remember? I have told you this before, not long ago. I came back for you.”

“There was… there was a thing,” Pohatu kept trying to piece things together.

“Yes, you had a request for me,” Kopaka encouraged before I could stop him.

“Right, and you… you… you wouldn’t do it!” Pohatu suddenly turned aggressive. “I want it to end, I want to be done, and you wouldn’t do it!”

“No, brother,” the Toa of Ice said. “I will do it.” And there my heart sank again. Here, presented with a chance to take back a wrong decision, Kopaka’d instead re-affirmed it. In fact, he sounded more sure and certain that he’d done the last time… had the whole argument merely convinced him to go on with this, or was it Pohatu’s sudden blank-out that had pushed him over the edge?

“What are you doing?” I leant in and asked. Kopaka saying “I will do it” had once again stunned and silenced Pohatu for a moment in spite of his anger, and so the Toa of Ice immediately turned to me.

“Lis, stay out of it,” he demanded.

“I already told you, I can’t,” I replied. “This isn’t right!”

“No, it is not,” he agreed, “but you cannot fix everything…” he glanced back at the bewildered Pohatu, “and you cannot fix this.”

“He won’t even let me try,” I countered, “and now you’re not going to either?”

 “You made your case,” Kopaka replied, still keeping his voice down but not free from frustration, “and he answered when he was as lucid as he could be in his current condition. Now the choice lies with you: will you drag this on needlessly, or will you respect his last wish and let me do what needs to be done?” That wasn’t a choice I wanted to make; for a second or two, I couldn’t think of any answer to it, or at least nothing satisfactory.

“I-I can’t let you do that,” I finally said. “Even if he is that far gone… even if it really is nothing but mercy… why do you have to do it? Why abandon everything you told me? Why you?”

“Lis, I promise you that I will explain,” he answered, now if anything with more of a calm sincerity to his voice, “after this is done, but only afterwards.”

“You’ll… do it?” the still staggered Pohatu asked Kopaka. “You’ll… actually do it?” The Toa of Ice nodded for a moment in his direction, then stood up and looked back at me. His expression had shifted slightly, indicating that I had to make a choice now. My eyes were welling up with tears; I was torn. None of this was right, it couldn’t be. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end; it couldn’t have been what Kopaka’d been planning all along, not the Kopaka I knew. And yet here I was, facing the choice between letting him abandon the Toa code in what he saw as a mercy killing, and potentially taking responsibility for Pohatu and trying to nurse him back to something resembling health… if that was even possible, and against his will. Somehow, both choices now seemed like mistakes, though I still felt one was significantly worse than the other. There had to be a better way, something else we could do… and yet I couldn’t think of it.

Then again, looking back at Pohatu, who was once again going through the same revelations that he’d gone through not ten minutes before as though they were entirely new to him… was he right? When he’d asked Kopaka to kill him the first time around, he described his as a “shell of a life,” and never had that description seemed more appropriate than it did now. Never mind that he’d been all but an animal when he’d woken up the first time; this… these mind blanks, he had to be acutely aware of them somehow. He knew there were a lot of memories missing. I couldn’t even imagine what it was like for information to suddenly be gone like that… and what if Kopaka was right? What if, even with me doing everything that I could, there was nothing that could be done to stave off the rapid decay of Pohatu’s mental faculties? How long before there really was nothing left to save?... No! I couldn’t think of it on those terms! While there was something to save, I had to fight for it… but it was against his express wishes, even if we’d have to bring him up to speed before he could articulate them again. And if Kopaka had good reasons of his own to actually go through with this… was this terrible option really the best one open to us? I hated it, but the more I thought of it, the more I came to the conclusion that yes, sadly, it was…

“Y-You’re taking a life,” I relented after a long pause. “You understand that, right? You’re… you’d better have one of an explanation.”

“I do, Lis” Kopaka assured me. “I have had this whole trip to work on it.”

“You’ll actually do it… you’re actually going to do it…” the reality was sinking in on Pohatu just as it was on me; outside of resorting to violence, I felt I was out of options… and violence wasn’t one to begin with.

“Go, Lis,” Kopaka advised. “Get out of the room, step outside, wherever you need to be. You do not have to watch this.”

“No, I never had to,” I replied, trying to keep my composure as best I could. My eyes drifted over and landed back on Pohatu. “I’m sorry. So… so sorry,” I apologized. He looked back me with an expression that had a sense of knowing innocence about it... like an old pet about to be put down. He understood, aperhaps only vaguely at that point, what I was trying to do, but he also clearly felt that what was about to happen was necessary. Terrible as it was, it was what he wanted… In an unusual gesture, Kopaka placed his hand on my shoulder.

“Go on, Lis,” he advised. We exchanged one last look before he gently turned me and then gave me a slight push in the direction of the door. I kept going… left the bedroom, took another step or two forward, then stopped in the middle of the living room. Tears were rolling down my mask, my throat had closed up, and I felt weak at the knees. In my head, I was still struggling, wanting to jump back in there and intervene, to stop this madness… but what could I say that I hadn’t already said? When, even in the best of states, Pohatu was still so far gone that he could forget who he was talking to at any moment, what could I really do? Still, how could I justify not going back? My vision was going blurry with the tears, but my ears still worked fine, and in the otherwise complete silence of the night, I could still hear what was happening in the bedroom.

“I am sorry too, brother.” Kopaka’s voice had taken on a slight tremble as well. “Sorry that everything has come to this.”

“No, don’t be.” Pohatu sounded, if anything, apologetic. “I should be thanking you. This… this is all I’ve been waiting for. Thank you!” Some creaking of the mattress, movement of the bedsheets… I turned and took a momentary glance into the room: Pohatu’d raised himself up, reached out, and embraced Kopaka… exactly as he had done the last time they’d said goodbye on good terms, at the end of the last meeting of all the Toa Nuva. Immediately, that memory came back to me, accompanied by that same feeling of loss… I steadied myself against the doorframe, but couldn’t keep myself from watching from the shadows of the living room.

“I swear,” Pohatu said, “I swear that if I’d known… if I’d known that it’d come to this, I’d never have done whatever I did… n-never let it get to this.”

“I know,” Kopaka replied, clearly still trying to maintain some semblance of composure. “That is enough,” he said as he released his grip. “Is there anything else you need to do?”

“No…” Pohatu replied as he let go as well. “I… I have nothing left in this world. Nothing but pain...” He looked down for a moment, probably trying to think of something else. “Actually,” he realized, “there’s this one guy… a yellow guy… he comes by sometimes…”

“Hewkii,” Kopaka identified.

“Yes, him,” Pohatu continued. “W-was he real, too?”

“He was.”

“Please, tell him… no, thank him for me,” Pohatu requested. “Whoever he is, he’d bring food and all… I don’t know why, but he did.”

“I will,” Kopaka promised.

“Good…” Pohatu sighed, a slight smile appearing on his face even as, just like Kopaka’s and mine, his eyes were tearing up. Kopaka, meanwhile, reached behind his back and pulled out one of his blades. It shimmered slightly in the dim light of the lamp on the side table; I’d delivered the same weapon to him the night before. Now, I nearly choked at the sight of it. “Thank you...” Pohatu leant back against the wall on the head side of the bed, remaining in a half-seated position with his back supported by the pillow. “I am ready,” he said, sounding almost relieved.

“I will be quick, brother…” Kopaka promised as he bent over and placed a hand on Pohatu’s shoulder, “and I will make sure… I will make sure that you will be well remembered. Just like Onua, just like Lewa, like all of us… the Matoran will know who you were, who you really were; the Toa who helped create this world.” It was clear, even back from where I was standing, that by now he was making great effort to retain his composure; apart from teared-up eyes and a clear break in his voice, there were few clues of how difficult the task really was, but even his movements, in spite of being as calculated and precise as always, seemed just a little rigid and forced. As for me, I was standing frozen, conflicted, as though I was watching disaster in slow-motion. One side of me so desperately wanted still to run in there and stop this, but the other was keeping me back, trying and somehow succeeding at making me come to terms with this… it was so wrong, and yet, in light of everything I’d seen, perhaps it was mercy after all.

“That… that’s all I can ask,” Pohatu smiled and closed his eyes as Kopaka placed the tip of the blade against his chest, right below the heartlight. The Toa of Ice straightened out slightly, still with one hand firmly on his brother’s shoulder and the other on the hilt of the blade. I wanted to scream, to run in and stop this, or maybe even to drive the blade in myself, to make it end... Everything at once, and instead I stood, paralyzed, unwilling to watch yet unable to look away. Kopaka looked down and averted his eyes for a moment; I swear that, as he did, he saw me standing in the doorway, and even cast a tearful glance in my direction. But then, his expression suddenly hardened, his grip tightened, he looked back to Pohatu… and in one smooth, linear motion, he thrust the blade forwards and upwards, into the Toa of Stone’s chest. It went in with hardly a sound,  penetrating through muscle strands, the underlying mesh, and right past the heart pump. Pohatu grimaced briefly at the jolt of pain that must have resulted, but then his face relaxed again and that slight smile reappeared. “Thank you, brother…” he whispered. “Thank you…”

Blood appeared around the entry point of the blade, and Toa’s heartlight started beeping like crazy, but then, just for a split second, Kopaka pulled tight all the muscles in his right arm, the one whose hand was holding the blade. Almost instantaneously, a thick layer of condensed snow appeared on the weapon; Kopaka’d dropped its temperature to well below zero, channeling the power of ice as cold cauterization. Surely, it must have frozen everything inside Pohatu’s chest solid; the heartlight stopped beating immediately, as instantaneous a way to go as I could imagine. The body of the Toa of Stone went limp, his face a picture of serene bliss, the face of one finally released from years of physical and mental pain and torment. The hero, the Toa Nuva of Stone, looking like he had at last found peace… at the blade of his best friend. Kopaka held the position for seconds that seemed like ages, then slowly, carefully, drew back the blade. It left an extremely thin cut, and no blood followed it out, not anymore. He straightened out, and for a while just… stood there, motionless with tears running down his mask, looking down upon his only friend, now forever silenced. It was over; I staggered back into the living room from the shadow of the doorway, leant against and slid down the wall, ending up huddled over with my head in folded arms on my knees, crying all the same.

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Chapter 46

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I’m not sure how long I sat there, to be honest... being near-catatonic for a while tends to do that to one’s perception of time. Through Kopaka’s memories, I felt like I’d gotten to know Pohatu as a friend, and while seeing the death of Onua and that time that Kopaka’d thought Pohatu dead had both hit me hard, actually being present at the death of a Toa and friend was something else entirely, especially in how it had transpired. It still didn’t feel right to me. Pohatu’s condition only made it more tragic; it added an edge of anger to the grief, anger at world that had abandoned him, allowed him to drive himself to such depths over hundreds of years. Really, Hewkii was the only person who’d visited him over that time, so far as I knew. Through it all, Pohatu’d been hurting, physically and emotionally… like Gali, like Onua, and probably like Lewa, increasingly lonely in his downward spiral, drowning it all in liquor bottle after liquor bottle until death seemed more a merciful release than anything else. No one deserved to go like that, least of all this Toa… and yet this alleged paradise had let it happen.

Eventually, Kopaka stepped out of the room, stopping right outside the doorway. “Lis,” he began in a quiet, but controlled voice, “get up.”  Looking up, I noticed he was holding himself in that tall, stoic manner that I’d become so used to, but as he looked down on me it was obvious from his face that he’d shed a lot of tears, too. No doubt he was making an effort not to show too much of the pain still inside. I stood up and wiped some of the tears out of my eyes. “We need to get going,” Kopaka added.

“What? Already?” I wondered.

“We are running out of time,” he explained as he walked around me towards the front door.

“Hang on,” I said, to keep my voice down as well for some reason, “you said you had an explanation… for that.” I gestured towards the bedroom.

“I do,” he replied, “and I will tell you, but not now. Later.” I sighed, then followed. Passing by the open doorway, I looked into the bedroom. Kopaka’d laid Pohatu down face-up and straightened out the sheets; it looked like the Toa of Stone was merely sleeping comfortably. I stopped for a moment, not wanting to leave, not wanting him to be gone, as though he wouldn’t be truly gone until we left his place behind. Lying peacefully in that bed, with everything in the room cleaned and arranged… it was as though Kopaka’d tried to symbolically set everything straight, even though the friend he’d come back to was irreparably broken. Tears were welling up in my eyes again. “Lis, we need to go,” Kopaka reminded me as he waited by the front door. He’d put on the cloak that he’d left there when he’d returned from… whatever he’d been doing earlier.

“Right,” I nodded, then then took one last glance into the bedroom. “Rest in peace…” I whispered sadly, then slowly turned and headed for the door. Kopaka followed me out, closed the door behind him, then looked up at the sky. The night was clear, but colder now.

“A new star has joined them tonight,” he said, sounding unusually philosophical. I glanced over at him, wondering if he was going to point out which one, but he didn’t follow up on it. Looking up, I saw a sky full of stars… then again, if he had been doing lots of astronomy, I suppose Kopaka would’ve been the one to know which one was the new one. Apparently satisfied at the condition of the sky, he started heading back in the direction from which we’d come, back to the city center. The streets were utterly quiet, which wasn’t surprising given that sunrise was probably still hours away. Still, he pretty quickly turned left into one of the side alleys, making his way through the narrow, maze-like streets at a fairly quick pace. At first, I just thought he was worried about being spotted in spite of the hour, but after a while I started to realize that he was heading in a very different direction; north-west as opposed to north-east. I didn’t really bother to question it at first, but after a good fifteen minutes or so of wondering where we were heading, I couldn’t wait any longer.

“So, where are we going now?” I asked just as we’d reached what appeared to be the side of a larger street. Kopaka didn’t reply in voice; he just turned and pointed out a well-lit signpost not fifty feet away from us.

Station East

“The underground line?” I thought out loud. Next to the sign, a set of stairs offered a path down. Kopaka took it, I followed, and soon we found ourselves standing in front of the ticket window of the underground station, which was being manned by a Po-Matoran who’d fallen asleep on the job. Kopaka tapped the glass, quietly at first, then louder the second time, which woke up the Matoran.

“Huh?” he mumbled drowsily, but when his eyes fell upon the Toa and cloaked stranger in front of him, he quickly reasserted himself. “G-good evening,” he greeted. “What can I help you with today?”

“Seaside Station, two tickets,” Kopaka said in his raspy voice.

“One-way or return?” Po-Matoran inquired as he turned to the rack of ticket rolls on his left.

“One-way,” Kopaka answered as he pulled out some widgets and laid them on the counter.

“Right,” the Po-Matoran ripped two tickets off of one of the rolls, “that’ll be four widgets…” his voice trailed off as, turning back to us, he noticed Kopaka’d put exactly that number down on the counter already. “Okay, seems we’re good then,” the Matoran confirmed as he offered the tickets to Kopaka, who took them without ceremony and headed into the station proper.

“Thank you,” I said to the Matoran before following. Station West was no cleaner than when last we’d been here; puddles of water or possibly other liquids dotted the floor, the lights flickered, and the trash cans were overflowing. There wasn’t a train present, but a clock and schedule posted informed us that there would be one arriving within five minutes. Kopaka elected to wait standing up, while I took a moment to admire the painting of the Glatorian on the wall; it was clearly street art of some kind, probably illegal, but whoever’d done it had done a good job on the detail. In fact, perhaps a little too good… the Glatorian in question was Kiina, a female from the water tribe who wielded a trident and whose armor, at least in this display, didn’t leave much to the imagination. If anything, being drawn from behind and looking slyly over her shoulder, she looked more like one of those ‘dolls’ that Kopaka’d compared Hahli to than a fighter, and with ineffective armor like that I could see to some extent where the insult came from; this was the kind of thing that Kirall was shooting for with her ‘enhancements.’ Painted in large, black letters beside the painting were the words “Real Glatorian Hero,” accompanied by a more crudely written “Agori Rule!” in red. I suppose that, from what little I knew of her, the hero part was an accurate description of Kiina, though I couldn’t help but wonder what the notoriously short-tempered Glatorian thought of this display.

Turning around, I noticed Kopaka was standing with his arms crossed and that his mind was sending out ‘anger’ signals so loudly that I was detecting them without even trying. Then I noticed why: painted on the tunnel wall on the other side of the train track, in just as much detail, was a picture of a grotesquely obese Gali in the same pose and similar attire as Kiina in hers. The look on Gali’s face, however, was one of ‘caught red-handed’ embarrassment as opposed to Kiina’s confident, challenging expression, and instead of wielding her axes her hands were occupied by a very large and already half-eaten sandwich. The original artist had labeled the picture “Real Toa Hero,” while whoever’d shown up with the red paint had practically surrounded the work with words and phrases like “Matoran suck!”, “Activate Kraawa Power!”, and “Toa of Blubber.”

“By Mata Nui…” I thought out loud. “Poor Gali.”

“ Agori,” Kopaka seethed.

“At least you can’t see it when the train arrives…” I muttered, somewhat worried about how mad Kopaka clearly was. He really did care in matters concerning Gali… but this clearly wasn’t a good time to go pointing that out. He was probably right, though; given the… let’s say unfavorable way the Toa was depicted, it was probably some cheeky Agori who’d put these pictures up, and with it Gali’s condition was clearly public knowledge. I wondered whether the same was true of Pohatu… was there a picture comparing the crippled Toa of Stone to a Rock Tribe Skrall somewhere? Thankfully, the awkward moment and sight were cut off by the arrival of the train. No one got off, and once again we were the only ones on board besides the driver. Kopaka took one of the seats in the far back, I guess more by force of habit than anything else, and I took the one across from him. Shortly thereafter, we rolled out of the station, the picture of Gali passing behind Kopaka’s back. After we were out of sight of the station, I spoke up:

“So, why did you?” I asked.

“Duty,” he answered.

“Okay, go on…” I was really looking forward to this explanation. How did killing another Toa fall under his duty?

“In Onu-Koro-Nuva there a giant statue of Onua,” he began. “He is all but worshipped by the Onu-Matoran.”

“I know,” I informed him. “I’ve seen it. They’ve got lots of signs by it explaining what he did.”

“Do any of them mention how he died?” Kopaka wondered.

“They mention he died with his boots on, so to speak,” I remembered.

“Do they tell how he died?” Kopaka reiterated himself.

“Well, they don’t mention the crystals…” I figured that that was what he was getting at.

“Indeed they do not,” Kopaka confirmed, “and why do you think that is?”

“Uhm… well, Nuparu told me that, you know… it would sour his memory,” I recalled. “We talked about that, remember? You told me Nuparu left the crystals out of the official history because it would taint the image of Onua as someone for the Matoran to admire and live up to.”

“Exactly,” Kopaka nodded. “He was doing his duty by providing for the Matoran the best image of Onua that they could have. My brother went from being the living champion of the Onu-Matoran to their patron legend. They try to live their lives as he did; even in death, he still provides them with a moral standard to strive for, to be the best they can be. That is how he still serves the Matoran, as a legend, and Nuparu could not risk that legend being tarnished.”

“Oh, okay. Is that what you’re trying to do for Pohatu now?” I was catching on.

“Exactly,” Kopaka nodded again. “So long as Pohatu lived, there would never be a remembrance ceremony on the scale that Onua had, no statue to cement him in the consciousness of the Matoran forever. In his condition, he had nothing left to give them in life… but in death, he could become a standard on par with Onua for the Onu-Matoran, or Lewa for the Le-Matoran.”

“…or you for the Ko-Matoran,” I added. “I mean, you’ve got a statue too, right?”

“I do.” Kopaka looked down for a moment, sighed, then looked up at me again. “Remember when we first met?”

“The train trip from Ko-Koro-Nuva?” I remembered that night. It was only a week or so ago, but with everything I’d seen, it felt like a lot longer than that.

“You asked me why I did not want to announce to the Ko-Matoran that I am back,” Kopaka continued. “This is why; they benefit more from my memory than they would from my presence.”

“Oh, right…” I nodded. In some ways, what he said made sense, though I still felt his habitual drive for isolation contributed a lot more to that decision than he was willing to admit. There was also something else about his decision concerning Pohatu: it flew in the face of the Toa Code. “I guess that all works,” I spoke up again, “but you still broke the Toa Code.”

“That is correct,” Kopaka admitted, his voice noticeably dropping off. “I… I am no longer a Toa.” He sighed as his eyes drifted down to the floor. It didn’t take an empath to recognize that, to him, it was a profound loss.

“Well, physically…” I gestured at him ‘head-to-toe’ in a rather misguided attempt to make light of the situation, but I’d barely gotten those two words out before his eyes were suddenly glaring back up at me.

“Physically, your friends are Toa,” he sneered. “Do you believe they really live up to the title?”

“No, no they don’t…” I realized. “Well, Jahlpu maybe… but not Lerome and Kirall.”

“They live off of the pockets of well-meaning Matoran and Agori without, as you put it, having done anything to deserve it,” Kopaka continued. “Yes, your Toa of Earth does better, but then he has a good role model, does he not?”

“Onua, right…” everything circled around again; if Jahlpu ever learned how Onua really died, I suspected he’d be heartbroken. The same with Lerome and Lewa, for that matter. Kopaka sighed again.

“It came down to a choice between Duty and the Toa Code. Duty because Pohatu would serve the Matoran better dead, while the Toa Code required keeping him alive.” When he put it like that, I could see the conundrum… small wonder he’d been going back and forth with himself and refusing to answer my questions on the trip back; he’d been trying to decide between the two leading guiding principles of his life. “I chose Duty,” Kopaka concluded.

“Unity, Duty, Destiny…” I mumbled, more thinking out loud than actually trying to carry on the conversation. Nevertheless, Kopaka responded.

“They are the overarching principles,” he said fatefully, “the ones which guide us all, first and foremost. The Toa Code only applies to Toa, and as you have seen, that title carries little meaning now.” There was a genuine sadness to his voice when he described the state of the title ‘Toa.’

“Wow… it’s like two Toa died,” I observed. “One… well, one physically, and one spiritually.”

“You could put it like that,” Kopaka said mournfully.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized; that remark had perhaps been just a little insensitive. “Really, I am… Honestly, you’re still a Toa as far as I’m concerned.” He nodded, a small gesture that he appreciated the sentiment.

“By your definition, perhaps,” he noted, “but not officially. Officially, there are no Toa Nuva left.”

“Well, officially my teammates are Toa,” I reminded him. “Screw the official definition.”

By this point, we were closing in on the first of two stations along our way to Seaside Station, which I figured was why Kopaka didn’t take the conversation any further, though to be honest he didn’t seem to have much appetite for it either way. The title of Toa, arbitrary as it seemed to be treated now, had clearly still meant a lot to him, symbolic of what he’d always strived to be. It was exactly as Nuparu had told me; Kopaka, like all the other Toa Nuva, had this vision of the ideal hero in his head, the person who he wanted to be, and the Toa Code had always been a core part of that, right below the three virtues themselves... and even if that independent, righteous, lone warrior vision was at least in part spurred on by the most unsavory parts of his personality and would probably end up being the death of him, he’d lasted longer on it than any of the other Toa Nuva; Tahu had broken the code early on, effectively making the same choice Kopaka’d made if in vastly different circumstances and for far worse reasons, and as those enterprising subterranean Agori satirists had been keen to point out, Gali was in no condition to protect and serve the Matoran in any capacity. In reality, Kopaka’d left a sizeable piece of himself behind in that wretched hut in southwest New Atero, regardless of how little it meant to others.

The station came and went; the train stopped, but no one boarded, and so we were on our way again. Kopaka had, by now, reasserted control over himself to the point where, if he’d wanted to, I didn’t doubt that he could act as though nothing of significance had happened. Beneath the surface, though, that definitely wasn’t true; his apparent calm was more a reflection of millennia of training and appearance management than what he was really feeling. Granted, that wasn’t exactly news to me of all people. For my part, I was still having difficulties dealing with it as well, of course. Talking had helped some; tragic as it was, Pohatu’s death did have rhyme and reason behind it, now that Kopaka had explained it. Still, even a darn good explanation didn’t change the fact that the whole thing was a terrible business; it was clearer than ever that, in this world, all the Toa Nuva had eventually met with disappointment or outright disaster; peacetime really had no place for war heroes, and this world not much for Toa in general. That wasn’t an encouraging message for a new Toa like me, though Nuparu had offered a solid alternative and I now had something lined up to pursue in Hahli and Jaller’s planned expedition. Still, at this point none of that was really what I was thinking of. No, I still had the moment of Pohatu’s death vividly front-and-center in my mind, and I found myself tearing up again at several points in the trip with both sadness for his loss and anger at the world that had led him to it. Eventually, though, another concern regarding Pohatu’s impending ‘legend’ came to my mind, and I decided to voice it to Kopaka:

“So, what’s Pohatu’s legend going to be?” I asked. Kopaka looked up at me, then opened his hands momentarily as a signal that I should elaborate. So I did: “I mean, what’ll he be remembered for? Like, the principles he lived by; Onua’s was to be to work hard at your chosen job, while Lewa would tell people to have fun with it…”

“Diplomacy,” Kopaka cut me off, “and a voice of reason. Pohatu mediated and he made sure he got along with others so they respected him when he offered his opinion.”

“Like the opposite of my way or the highway,” I interpreted.

“Exactly,” Kopaka agreed. “He would work with what others wanted to do, to ensure everyone succeeded together and stayed together. He never aggressively took sides, not like Tahu or Gali.”

“Or stay out of it all together like you,” I added.

“Right…” Kopaka nodded, though he couldn’t disguise that he wasn’t too fond of me bringing in his behavior.

“Well, if anything the Matoran could use a figure like him right now,” I brought the conversation back to positive ground. “I mean, tensions between the Matoran and Agori have kind of always been there; some mutual understanding could go a long way to resolving that.”

“A fitting legacy for my brother,” Kopaka concluded.

“Right, just… aren’t you worried about his reputation being tainted?” I wondered. “Like, what we saw back in Station West…” Kopaka’s expression soured instantly when I mentioned that, but I continued: “Look, I hate it too, but Gali’s a laughing stock, has been for years, while Onua only used those crystals for like three months and deep down in the mines, so it was easy to hide. Pohatu’s been on the way down for centuries; don’t people know?”

“They do not,” Kopaka said with a, to me, unsubstantiated degree of confidence.

“How can you be sure?” I wondered.

“When you were watching over Pohatu,” Kopaka explained, “I found a phone to call Nuparu.”

“At two in the morning?”

“Yes,” Kopaka said matter-of-factly, as though the hour hadn’t at all factored into his calculations. Granted, with as patchy a schedule as we’d been running over the last few days, and the fact that this was Kopaka, that wasn’t really surprising. “I asked him how many people knew of Pohatu’s condition.”

“Really, how many?” I really was curious about that.

“He said not many, beyond a few other Toa,” Kopaka continued. “After he broke his back, he spend a few years coaching. Then, he formally announced his retirement and intent to get out of public life altogether. They had a going-away party, after which all communications with Pohatu had to go through Hewkii, who started to filter things out when his condition got worse.”

“So he just gradually fell out of public consciousness?” I interpreted again.

“Indeed,” Kopaka confirmed. “They knew he had broken his back, but his drinking and deterioration were never public knowledge, unlike Gali’s problems. The only people who know have the same interests at heart that I do.”

“Okay…” that made sense enough, though I still found it impressive that Pohatu’s condition had been hidden so well for so many years. Then again, if a bunch of Toa put their mind to it, I suppose orchestrating the misleading of so many for the good was possible… And again, Kopaka had completely pre-empted my concerns before he’d even gone through with the act. “So that’s what you were doing?” and I’d been so concerned about him not coming back. “You really do think of everything, don’t you?”

“I think ahead,” Kopaka corrected.

“And what would you’ve done if everyone had known?” I asked. “What if everyone knew Pohatu as the mad drunk?”

“Then, as you argued with Onua, he would have become a warning,” Kopaka answered. “I find the current situation preferable.”

“Awful as it is…” I nodded.

“Awful as it is.”

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Chapter 47

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Silence ruled the train again for a while. Or rather, silence except for the constant noise of air rushing past the carriages as we proceeded towards our second stop.

“So, Seaside station is the one by Macku and the Toa Mahri’s place,” I recalled. “Is that where we’re going?”

“It is,” Kopaka confirmed. “Pohatu asked me to thank Hewkii, remember?”

“So he did…”

“Also, Hahli can tell the world of his death on her morning news program,” Kopaka added.

“Right… they’ll probably do a special or something to… well, to get people reacquainted with who Pohatu was,” I hypothesized. “Maybe they’ll interview other Toa and all that… you know, if it wasn’t for the fact that you want people to think you’re dead, you could really contribute to that, make sure that Pohatu’ll be remembered the right way.”

“I could,” Kopaka sighed, “but my brother’s memory will be in capable hands between the Toa Mahri.”

“True, it would be…” I agreed, but it was still somewhat disappointing to know that, beyond informing them, Kopaka had no apparent intention of helping the Toa Mahri and Macku to make sure that the legend he’d talked about, the entire reason that he’d decided to grant Pohatu his wish, actually became the official story. Then again, Hewkii in particular was probably as good a custodian for Pohatu’s legacy as one could find, and Hahli’s position as popular news anchor gave her a lot of power to shape the story in a positive way, not that Kopaka had acknowledged that as a useful thing before. I guess the stoic Toa’s attitude and behavior towards others, in the end, were subject as much to the whims and needs of the situation as they were to his moral code.

By this point, the train was beginning to slow again, and looking forward through it I could see the lights of the second station in the distance. Once the train had stopped, two haggard-looking Agori boarded, which more or less shut down any conversation on the last leg of the trip as far as Kopaka was concerned. Not that I was in the mood to continue either; he’d answered my questions, and emotionally and physically, the events of the night had left me quite drained. No doubt he was feeling the same. We just kind of… sat there, waiting for the train to roll into Seaside Station. When at last it did, Kopaka was quick to disembark, with me following right behind. As before, Seaside was a much cleaner and more tastefully decorated place than Station West had been, thankfully missing any unsolicited satirical artwork on the walls, not that Kopaka would’ve cared to stop and look if there was any. No, he made a beeline for the stairs, and pretty soon we were standing at the side of the road below the illuminated sign advertising the presence of the station below. A large city map posted beside the sign indicated we were about a block or two away from the beach, and well to the east and slightly north of the city center. I looked up and down the street. It was completely quiet, as was to be expected, barring the two Agori who’d joined us on the train at the last station; having emerged from the underground as well, they now turned right and proceeded south along the road, periodically illuminated by and casting long shadows in the dim light of the street lamps.

“This way.” Kopaka was already on the move again. In spite of the fact that both of us were seriously tired, he still kept up a quick pace, reaffirming what he’d told me about running out of time… but running out before what, exactly?

“Why the hurry?” I asked, half-running to catch up.

“Time,” he answered.

“Time ‘til…”

“We have about two and a half hours until sunrise,” Kopaka elaborated. “I want to be out of the city by then.”

“Ah, so we stop by the Toa’s place, tell Hewkii Pohatu thanked him, and then take off again?” I deduced.

“That is the plan,” Kopaka confirmed.

“Right, okay…” I nodded, but something didn’t quite sit right with me. Or rather, it dawned on me that Kopaka seemed to think he could just drop in on some other Toa at four in the morning, inform them that their mutual friend and fellow Toa had died, and then leave again without further explanation; that last part probably wouldn’t sit well with said other Toa. “You know, I don’t want to say you didn’t think this through,” I began, “but… if you tell them Pohatu’s dead, they’ll probably have a lot more questions than we’ll have time to answer.”

“They will not get to ask,” Kopaka countered.

“How so?” I wondered.

“I will leave a note,” he explained.

“Leave a note?” I wasn’t too fond of that either. “Your best friend, their friend is dead, and you’re just going to… what, slide a note under their door saying ‘hey, the Toa Nuva of Stone is dead’?”

“Not the wording I would use,” Kopaka pointed out.

“Well, regardless,” I continued, “if a friend and idol of mine had died, I’d much prefer to be informed personally than with a piece of paper.”

“I do not have that option,” Kopaka said bluntly. “As you said, they would have too many questions.”

“I suppose so…” Kopaka turned right; we were now on the street there Macku and the Toa Mahri’s house was. “You know, I could tell them,” I offered. “You could be on your way, I’ll wait here, and come sunrise, when they’re up, I’ll tell them that Pohatu died. I mean, I was planning to come back here anyways, so, you know, why not?” Kopaka didn’t reply, so while the ideas kept flowing I kept going: “Plus, I could help them organize some kind of memorial, maybe, and even deliver a few words on your behalf. Except you’re dead to everyone except those Toa… hang on, should I tell them that you killed Pohatu or…”

“Lis,” Kopaka suddenly stopped and cut me off. He turned to me. “Do you not have some concerned friends who you promised to return to as soon as possible?”

“Oh, right…” I recalled. “Forgot about that…” Given all that had happened over the last few hours, the fact that Jahlpu and the others were still in Onu-Koro-Nuva had kind of slipped my mind. “I mean, I could call them again, you know, tell them that I’m staying with Hahli, Hewkii, and Jaller… that’d probably put Jahlpu at ease.”

“I am certain the other two will be delighted at the news,” Kopaka noted.

“Lerome and Kirall? Oh, yeah…” Now I remembered why I’d specifically not mentioned the Toa I’d met to my teammates. “I could have to have Jahlpu make up an excuse, I suppose…”

“No,” Kopaka shut it down. “Do not drag him into it. Keep your promises.” With that, he turned and started walking again.

“Uhm, okay…” I could tell there was a lot more reason in his mind for him not wanting me to stay behind than that, but clearly nothing that he was willing to share right now. Of course, that only made me more curious. Did his plan beyond this place actually involve me? That would certainly be a change of pace on his part; up until now, he’d largely tolerated my presence and occasionally made use of it, but never entertained the illusion that he actually needed me around for anything. He’d never shied away from telling me I had the option to leave either… yet here I was offering one, and now he told me to stay. No doubt about it; somehow his plan involved me, but how? Only one way to find out when Kopaka was being secretive… so I guess we were going with the note.

Soon, we’d reached the two-story house marked with carved images of the masks of four of its five inhabitants; Macku’s Huna, Hahli’s Faxon, Jaller’s Arthron, and Hewkii’s Garai. Gali’s presence wasn’t advertised, but in light of what I’d seen on the underground station that wasn’t all that surprising. All the lights were out. Never one to stop and take in the moment, Kopaka unceremoniously crossed the shallow front lawn, stopped in front of the door, and produced out an old-looking but blank piece of paper and a pen. Holding the paper up against a smooth part of the stone wall, he began to write.

“What does it say?” I asked; in the half-light I couldn’t just read it over his shoulder, though he was making no attempt to hide it. He didn’t reply, so I looked around for a moment… and just at that point, one of the lights in the room two windows to the right of the front door turned on. “Oh… looks like someone is awake,” I observed, careful to keep my voice down. Kopaka looked at the window momentarily, then turned his attention back to the note. “I’ll see who it is,” I offered, eliciting no further response from Kopaka. Taking his disinterest as permission, I activated my Volitak and walked over to the window to peer inside. The light in question was coming from the kitchen; looking in, I had to wait for a moment for my eyes to adjust. I could see that there was someone bent over in front of the counter… rummaging through the lower cabinets, I figured. After a second or two, the figure slowly, and with some effort, straightened out; it was Gali, apparently on what I could only describe as a midnight kitchen raid. Given that she’d picked up a large, as yet unopened bag of some kind of snack food, her intentions were quite clear. There was a something solemn in the way she went about it, though; the expression on her face, her body language… perhaps ‘defeated’ was a better word. No doubt this wasn’t something she was proud of, and to be honest it was quite dispiriting to see the Toa Nuva of Water reduced to… to this. As she pulled a large cup out of another cabinet and turned her attention to the cold box, I backed away from the window and quickly made my way back to Kopaka.

“It’s Gali,” I informed him.

“Gali?” he looked at me with just a hint of curiosity. “What is she doing at this hour?”

“Getting a midnight snack, it seems,” I answered.

“A midnight snack?” he asked as though the concept was entirely foreign to him. To be fair, it probably was.

“Yeah, she’s hungry, I guess…” I knew the real explanation, of course, and it laid more than a little of the blame on Kopaka. Just recalling how he’d berated her that evening, after all she’d done for him, got my blood boiling again. Kopaka? Well, he just kind of shook his head, his expression clearly telegraphing disapproval, then folded his note in half and leant down, intending to push it through under the door. Then I got an idea.

“Hang on,” I stopped him. He looked up at me. “You should do something for her, too,” I said.

“For Gali?” he questioned it as though the idea was ludicrous, which wasn’t helping.

“Yes, really,” I answered somewhat agitatedly, though I still kept my voice down as much as I could. “It’s because of you that she’s in there right now; you came back to set the record straight about Pohatu, fine, but given all she’s done for you, you owe her.” Kopaka waited a moment before replying:

“I owe her nothing,” he said, much more coldly than I’d heard in a while. “Her failures are her own and none of my concern.”

“Maybe not, but you aggravated them,” I argued. “She saved your life; you bullied her into continuing to destroy herself. You do owe her; you owe her a lot, ###### it.”

“And what would I do?” Kopaka posed the question as he stood up in his calm yet… challenging, standoff-ish way. “Kill her too? She would not want that, and as you pointed out, her legend has already been tarnished.”

“How about helping her instead?” I countered. “That ever cross your mind?”

“You already asked, and I already gave you my answer,” he replied. “Pulling her out of the hole she dug for herself would take years, years that I cannot afford to spend, especially not on the person who drove our entire team apart.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you actually cared much for the team breaking up,” I shot back. “All that did was give you the opportunity to leave for good. You relished that. That’s not what you were angry about, and it never was.”

“I pursued what I determined to be the best course of action, irrespective of what the others were doing with themselves.” Kopaka’s voice was starting to show hints of anger. “She was the one who let herself go; I merely told her the truth about it.” Okay, he was right on that part, despicable and unnecessarily harsh as what he’d said was.

“Okay, so you don’t want to spend a long time trying to undo what took her years to wreck, fine,” I relented, changing tactics, “but there’s got to be something else you can do, something acceptable to you and good for her.”

“Lis, there is not.” His voice softened somewhat; apparently he was changing tactics too. “You want to believe that everything and everyone can be fixed, but you are wrong. No one could fix Pohatu, not where he was…” his voice wavered slightly, but he pressed on, “… and no one can fix her. If they could, Hahli and Macku would have already done it.”

“Well, in Pohatu’s case I believe you.” I thought for a moment, trying to think of the right way to phrase things, to make an argument to Kopaka. “But Gali? No, she can be fixed. I’m sure of it, and so was Macku. But it requires you; like it or not, you command a respect from her that only a fellow Toa Nuva does.”

“Time I cannot spend for an outcome that is not guaranteed,” Kopaka summarized dismissively. He considered the matter closed with that, evident by the fact that he started to turn for the door again with is note, but I wasn’t done yet.

“Actually… not necessarily,” I pointed out. “You know, I think there is a way you can help her, right here, right now. It will only take a couple of minutes at most, and I guarantee it’ll help her to get back on track.”

“And this way would be?” Kopaka turned back to me, but didn’t sound hopeful.

“Apologize to her,” I told him.

“Apologize for what?” he questioned.

“For what you said,” I continued, “regardless of whether it was true or not. Okay, she’s not the sister you left behind, the one you knew. ######, you don’t even believe she deserves the title of Toa anymore, fine. But you’ve told me multiple times that the truth only has value so long as it benefits the Matoran, or at least doesn’t harm them.”

“Lis…” he attempted to interrupt, but I wasn’t having it.

“No, hear me out on this,” I protested. “Let me posit a little scenario here: you apologize to her. You tell her, regardless of what you believe, that she’s stronger than that, than the depression that’s taken a hold on her, and you apologize for and take back everything you said last time. Her situation is not her fault, at least not completely, and you express confidence that she can get out of it. That’s it. You leave, you get to be out of the city by sunrise, but you’ve also shown her that not everyone has given up on her; not everyone that matters, everyone who she feels she really let down. And because it’s you, someone whose respect she had to earn and not Hahli and Macku who’ll do whatever they can for her regardless of the situation, that maybe, no, definitely, it’ll give her something to hold on to. It’ll give her a confidence boost that, with help from Hahli, Macku, and when I come back, from me, will give her the strength to make a concerted effort to save herself.”

“You can’t guarantee…” Kopaka tried to interject again.

“No, I can’t,” I acknowledged, cutting him off, “but it’ll give her a much better chance than I bet anyone else has done so far. And imagine she succeeds; imagine that, someday within the next few years, she’s physically back to who she was; a true Toa Nuva. Now, people can’t make fun of her as a failure anymore; if anything, her story is now one of a Toa who faced the darkest depths of the mind and came out triumphant on the other side. Just… imagine the day she does eventually die; she could be a legend to the Matoran like Onua, like Lewa, like you’re trying to get Pohatu to be… and like you. Is that not Duty?” I waited for a moment, but now Kopaka didn’t take the opportunity to voice his doubts. I could tell I’d started him thinking, but… was I getting somewhere? Time to drive the nail home. “All that could be the future,” I continued, “and all it would take from you is for you to get over your own pride and apologize, tell her you were wrong, whether you believe it or not. You could help her take her first step on a road to recovery, not ruin… and I’d like you to do it before even single steps are beyond her physical capability. She needs you, Kopaka; you’re the only one who can do this. Tahu’d do it if she didn’t hardline him on his job every time, and yeah, that’s exactly her problem, but you could make sure that that problem doesn’t become her undoing, and that it won’t interfere with her duty. That’s what it comes down to; if the three virtues are the most important principles that guide you, and Duty is chief among them now, then do yours. Please.”

That was it. I’d put everything out there, tried to put as logical and as ‘Kopaka’ an argument together as I could to get him to do something that I knew didn’t sit well with him, with that part of him that he refused to acknowledge yet that so informed his decisions. Somewhere inside, he had that voice telling him that he was better than everyone, better than Gali, and that she deserved everything she’d gotten herself into for breaking up the team in the way she did. In its own twisted way, that little voice that I’d seen as Shadow Kopaka had informed and guided every action he’d taken, every step of the plan the first time around, even his decision to head into the mountains in the first place. I was sure of it. But I knew he could be better than that; I’d already seen it when he’d gone back for Pohatu, even if how exactly he made that decision wasn’t exactly clear to me. Perhaps it had something to do with him seeing how Onua met his end… it wouldn’t have surprised me if it did, given that he had spoken quite well of the Toa Nuva of Earth before. Still, as I stood and waited for his reply, I wasn’t particularly hopeful. His decision on Pohatu was a difficult one, one that I couldn’t blame him for being reluctant to repeat, even if this time around it would cost him virtually nothing. All I knew is that I’d made the best argument I could muster, and I couldn’t have forgiven myself if I hadn’t.

Kopaka’d just… stood there, motionless, looking me sternly and squarely in the eyes while I made that argument. Now that I’d finished, he was still looking at me, but his dark expression had faded and his eyes were way off in the distance, as though he was looking through me and his mind was really somewhere else. He was thinking, lots of things shooting back and forth in his head; that much I could tell. It wasn’t unlike when I’d tried to get his attention for my apology on the train back to this city, shortly after I’d shown him how Onua had died. Had he been thinking about Pohatu’s request then? If so, he faced a similar choice now; to go with that part of Shadow Kopaka that remained and rationalize the choice away by citing the, in his (or rather, the voice’s) opinion, low odds that Gali would actually succeed, or to go with duty as I argued and put his pride, his ego off to the side. For me the right choice was obvious, and I think it would’ve been to most people, but in a sense I’d asked Kopaka to act against part of himself, and as such it wasn’t surprising, if discouraging, that for a minute or so he kind of seemed at war with himself. I suppose that, even if he did choose not to apologize, at the very least I could take some satisfaction out of the fact that I’d posed a question that took him serious consideration to answer.

Edited by Scorpion_Strike
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  • 2 weeks later...

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Chapter 48

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After what felt like ages but was probably half a minute at most, Kopaka finally lowered his head, coming out of his conflicted trance. He’d made his decision, I knew, but he didn’t bother to vocalize it. Instead he sighed, then turned, hesitated for a moment… and knocked on the door.

He knocked on the door.

I’d expected him to do something along the line of sighing, explaining why he wouldn’t apologize in some logical, rationalized way, and then stick with the note. But no, he knocked on the door. Had he... Had he changed his mind, his plan, in favor something I’d argued for, something I’d never really dared to expect him to go along with? I mean, in light of what he’d told me when last we were here... This wasn’t the Kopaka I’d known before, or at least not the one I’d known before the end of Pohatu. Yeah, something’d changed, but was it too late? For a while, the knock elicited no response, and I feared Gali’d already gone back downstairs, back to her basement hollow. Looking back towards the kitchen window, I noticed the light was still on. Gali didn’t seem the type to me to leave it on, particularly since she probably hadn’t been all that comfortable with what she’d been doing anyways. Still, if she was still up here, she would’ve made it to the door by now; what gave? After a minute or so, Kopaka looked about to give in.

“The light’s still on,” I pushed him on. “She should still be up.” He hesitated for a moment, then knocked again. Again we waited, and I’d just started making my way back to the window when our patience was rewarded and we finally heard the tell-tale sound of the door being unlocked. It opened inwards slightly. The face of the Toa Nuva of Water appeared, peering nervously out into the darkness. Her eyes widened when she saw Kopaka.

“K-Kopaka?” she stammered, distinctly nervous, even… afraid. In light of how they’d last parted, I couldn’t blame her.

“Gali,” he greeted solemnly. Standing halfway between the window and the door, I didn’t fall into the light of either; Gali didn’t immediately pick up on my presence, and I wasn’t sure how exactly to come in. Then again, nor did I really want to; Kopaka'd made his decision, now he had to go with it. So I watched, curious about how exactly this exchange would go down.

“W-what do you want?” Gali asked timidly.

“I have a message for Hahli,” he replied. His voice sounded, if anything, empty. It lacked its usual conviction, but it wasn’t hesitant either, more… going through the motions, his mind not fully in it, like he was purposely distancing himself. It was his practiced insulation at work.

“Hahli?” Gali repeated, then averted her eyes for a moment. “I-I can see if she’s awake…”

“No, you can get it to her later,” Kopaka interjected and offered her the note. Gali opened the door a bit further, then reached out and picked it out of his hand.

“I-I’ll make sure she gets it,” she promised. Kopaka didn’t say anything in reply, and for a few seconds the two stood in awkward silence. For his part, Kopaka seemed confused as to how exactly to proceed; this hadn’t been part of his plan, and as such he was having a hard time figuring it out. Gali waited, perhaps for him to bring the conversation to some kind of conclusion, or maybe she was still trying to process the fact that Kopaka was here at this hour. Either way, in her demeanor there was little left to recognize of the driven, confident Toa who I’d worked with on the surgery… Kopaka really had shattered something in her, or perhaps just re-shattered it, and Gali had yet to put it back together. Still, eventually it was her who broke the silence.

“Uhm, so... that’s all?” she wondered. Kopaka didn’t reply, still clearly trying to figure out a plan of some kind as to where to take this conversation. “Well, okay then…” Gali said, disappointedly if anything, as she turned to close the door.

“That note…” Kopaka suddenly spoke up, “…you should know what is on it.”

“I should?” Gali turned back to Kopaka, inadvertently opening the door further in the process. In absence of further explanation on Kopaka’s part, she started to unfold the note.

“No need for you to open it,” the Toa of Ice interjected. “It is just… it is not good news.”

“Bad news?” she looked up from working the note. “About what?” Kopaka paused for a second, considering how exactly to respond to her curiosity. As far as I was concerned, he should’ve just told her, and apparently that was the conclusion that he came to as well.

“It is about Pohatu,” he continued after a deep breath. “He… he is gone. Dead.”

“D-dead?” Gali’s eyes widened with shock. “H-how could…”

“He was not doing well,” Kopaka solemnly went on. “He was hurting a lot, Gali.”

“Hurting?...” Gali’s gaze dropped as she steadied herself against the doorway. “He was that… that bad?”

“He was ready to die...” Kopaka trailed off for a moment, then reasserted himself.

“By Mata Nui…” Gali whispered, barely audible. One hand went to her face while she steadied herself against the doorway with the other; tears had appeared in her eyes. “I-I should’ve done something.”

“You did do something,” Kopaka pointed out.

“Not enough,” Gali shook her head. “He… he needed more. I failed him.” Her voice was breaking up as she uttered those words. She was the picture of grief, leaning against the doorway with a sad, empty look to her, still clutching the note. This was something that Kopaka clearly wasn’t quite sure how to deal with; he was still trying to hold himself stoically. However, it was clearly difficult for him as well, most notably because his eyes were tearing up too. “I-I failed him…” Gali repeated to herself. Kopaka averted his eyes for a moment. Then, almost out of nowhere, he stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“No, Sister,” he said far more softly than I’d anticipated, “you did not fail him. You did everything you could. He said so much himself.”

“Everything I could didn't save him,” Gali replied through bitter tears, struggling with the words.

“No one…” Kopaka began, his voice breaking as well, “no one could have helped him. He was gone, Gali, no longer for this world. You could not change it, and neither could I. We did what we could. He... he died in peace.” Gali looked up for a moment and shook her head. Kopaka said no more, still trying to maintain his composure, but in his way he was showing as much pain as she was, which she realized. After as second or two, she stepped forward and embraced her brother.

"In peace..." she muttered. "Thank Mata Nui..." Again, Kopaka seemed caught off guard by the sudden display of emotion, but to my surprise he eventually returned the gesture as best as he was able, awkwardly embracing Gali in return. Very quickly, that embrace became more genuine, though; both Toa were overcome, each the other’s shoulder to cry on, grieving the loss of their brother and friend. Kopaka happened to be facing away from me, but I could tell he was shedding tears, too. After a while they released, reverting to their previous positions; him facing off to her standing in the doorway, a few feet of space between them, both recollecting themselves.

“Do you want to come in?" Gali eventually offered.

“I cannot stay,” Kopaka went back to his old refrain.

“But they’re going to have a memorial,” Gali continued, “and you have to be there. You… you owe it to him. We all do.”

“No, I was there,” Kopaka explained, “I was there when he died… we said our goodbyes.”

“Of course,” Gali sighed. “Of course you did, but... you’ve got to say something in his memory.”

“I already have,” Kopaka pointed at the note. “My words, not to be credited to me.” Gali looked down at the note for a moment, then back at him.

“Well, I still don’t want you to go,” she said. “You can’t… I can’t watch you go again.”

“And I cannot stay here,” Kopaka repeated himself. Gali looked down for a moment, swallowed, then looked up again, but didn’t say anything. I think… I think it was her coming to face reality, much as she hated that reality; Kopaka wasn’t going to stay, no matter how much she wanted him to. She'd tried every argument the last time he was here, and the answer had been made brutally clear to her; he was going to leave her alone again regardless of what she said, of what she argued. Still, she wanted to, had to hope that something, anything could change his mind, even if she was drawing a blank now.

“You’re going to die up there,” she began, her face an expression of hopelessness. “You go back there, it’s guaranteed, but you’re going to do it anyways… and I can’t stop you.” She raised her hands for a moment, then dropped them at her side again, at a loss for words. Kopaka held still for a few seconds, again trying to come up with what to him probably seemed like a satisfactory reply, some retort, a last word before turning around and leaving perhaps. That's what I was expecting, but I'll admit that what came after still took me by surprise.

“Gali,” Kopaka began as he took a step forward. “Stop doing this to yourself.”

“Stop what?” she asked, somewhat perplexed.

“Stop trying to recreate a world that no longer exists.” He paused before continuing as Gali looked at him with more than a hint of bewilderment. “You have tried everything, sister, as you always did, but you cannot bring the old Toa Nuva back. Not Tahu, not Pohatu...”

“… and not you?” she finished, sounding disappointed. “You’re telling me to leave you alone because… you’re you.”

“Yes,” Kopaka acknowledged. Gali shook her head again as her expression fell.

“So I can’t do anything for you either…” she sighed. Kopaka didn’t respond verbally, but the expression on his face was a pained one, mirroring Gali's. “So it goes… well, goodbye then,” she said bitterly as she began to close the door again.

“Gali, wait,” Kopaka spoke up. She held the door, looking back to him. “You are right,” he continued, “right in that you cannot do for me what you have tried and failed to do for all of us. However, there is someone who you can do something for: yourself.”

“Me?” Gali questioned.

“You know what I am talking about,” Kopaka momentarily nodded down at her body, an unquestioning reference to the Toa Nuva of Water’s physical condition. “You are better than that, and you know it. If you really want to do something for me, do something for yourself and put the second helpings down.”

“Really?” Gali opened the door again, but the tone of her voice had suddenly turned less than hopeful, more… skeptical, almost sarcastic. “Is that what I need to do? I should tell you I’ll set myself straight so you can march off to your death feeling good about how you left?” All of the sudden, the grief-stricken Gali was gone; there was much more fire in her voice. “You don’t get to do that, Kopaka,” she continued. “You don’t get a clean conscience when you leave like that, not when you could stay for the good of yourself and others but refused to.” She stopped for a moment, that fire apparently already running out of steam, but bitterness remained. “Yeah, this sucks…” she acknowledged, “and I know, but if you’re leaving me like this, then this is the image you’ll have to live with.” She took a step back and raised her arms slightly from her sides to emphasize her size, presenting a view that Kopaka couldn’t hide from, as though she intended to sear the image of her grotesque obesity into his mind. It had shocked him so much when he’d first met her again… but this time his reaction was altogether different, different than from then and from what I had expected. He held his ground, his expression turning cold as he looked her up and down. I feared for a moment that he'd respond to her sudden... bitterness with another tirade to put her in her place, but no tirade came. Instead, he calmly, if coldy replied:

“Spite, Gali? Is that spite? You wish for me to leave you like this, just so you can be a stain on my conscience? Is that what you want?” Her expression hardened. The temperature seemed to drop as he continued: “If that is what you want, then I will leave, and do not think that I will care. You will have doomed yourself to your fate, and only to spite me.” He took a step forward again. “Go ahead, go back to that kitchen," he said in a rapidly darkening tone, "empty the cabinets, the ice box, everything… keep going until you cannot pick yourself up from the floor anymore. I am sure Hahli and Macku will carry you around on their backs if it came to that. And one day, when what is left in there finally gives out on you,” he pointed at Gali’s heartlight, “then you will be able to die with the satisfaction that you got to haunt my conscience the way you do every other Matoran’s when they see you being made a mockery of a Toa by the Agori. That is what you are asking for, sister, and make no mistake that I will give that to you.” He kept his expression steeled, his voice subdued enough not to wake anyone but nonetheless threatening in the extreme, a fact that clearly wasn’t lost on Gali; her facade was crumbling. That confidence, that force of personality that had come with her assertion of her place in his mind had drained away, replaced once again by a Gali that looked more like what she’d become after he’d berated her post-surgery. He held his position for a moment, looking down on the Toa of Water as though he was about to deliver a verbal finishing blow; I was about to jump in, to drag him back, to make sure he didn’t… but then his expression suddenly saddened. He turned for a moment, lowering his head and looking away both from me and Gali before turning his attention back on the latter again. “What has happened to you?” he asked, his voice suddenly much gentler. “This is not you. The Gali I knew would never do this, become spiteful on the assumption that it would somehow hurt those who hurt her. You were better than that.” He stopped for a moment, perhaps awaiting a response, but Gali had none to give; those words had hit home. “I see…” he shook his head as he stepped back again, “… you are better than that. You still are.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Gali began feebly. “I just can’t, can’t have this happen, not again.”

“No...” Kopaka stopped her, “I am sorry.” She looked up at him questioningly. “I am sorry,” he continued, “sorry for what I said last time. I believed you responsible for things that you were not, and let anger over that get the better of me.” Her expression, once again, was one of astonishment, and for that matter so was mine. “Truth is, you did everything you could, more than anyone else was willing to do, and for that you were the best of us,” he admitted. “In spite of everything you tried to keep us together, and when that failed you continued to help each of us as best you could no matter how thankless a job it was. Of all of us, you should have been the one who succeeded in this world, and you can still be.”

“No, not without…” she began, but didn’t get further.

“Gali,” he interrupted, “you cannot let bitterness and despondence over our failings get the better of you. You are better than that, and the Matoran need you to be. To them, you are the only Toa Nuva left, the only true Toa Nuva. So stop, sister, stop blaming yourself for losing what was never yours to hold on to. Stop thinking that the only thing you can do worthwhile in this world is to try and get us back to where we can never be again. Save yourself; you are stronger than this, and you do not need me to beat it.” He took a step back and held there, giving her a chance to reply, but his heartfelt apology had momentarily left her speechless. So, with a last nod and fateful glance, he turned and started down the path across the yard.

“Wait!” Gali called as he reached the sidewalk. He stopped, but did not turn around. Having stepped outside in an effort to catch up, she now did the same; the few steps out into the yard were probably further out than she’d been in ages. “I-I'll try," she began, "but you have to as well. You don't have to stay, fine, but…" she paused for a moment to consider her plea, "if you do need anything, and I know you will... please don’t be a stranger.” That was it; acceptance of his wanting to leave reconciled, to some degree, with her wanting to make sure he wouldn't die by it. He waited a moment, then turned his head and unenthusiastically replied:

“I will see what I can do.” She nodded, though the expression on her face was a seriously doubtful one. Kopaka was about to get going again when he suddenly remembered something. “One more thing.”

“Anything, please” she invited.

“Tell Hewkii that Pohatu thanked him for everything that he did for him,” he recalled. "It was his last wish."

“I will,” she confirmed. “Him and Hahli; I’ll get them the messages.”

“Thank you,” he nodded. “Farewell, sister.”

“Farewell…” Gali’s voice trailed off as tears were taking over again. She watched as Kopaka took two steps forward, clearing the yard, then turned right and made his way along the road. She wanted to stop him, I could feel it, but at the same time some part of her knew it was futile. But where ordinarily that could’ve been nothing but extremely depressing to her, I detected something of a ray of hope… did she think he’d really come back again if he needed to? For that matter, would he? At this point, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he would, and this was the first time that I’d felt hopeful that maybe, just maybe, him going back into the mountains wouldn’t be the end, not for good. Then again… how much of what he’d said did he actually mean?

“Lis?” I was startled out of my thoughts by Gali who, turning around to head back into the house, had spotted me sitting by the wall.

“Oh, hi,” I greeted a bit nervously.

“Do you want to come in?” she asked, remarkably composed now for someone who’d just learned her brother had died and who’d just watched another walk away to his almost inevitable demise.

“Oh, sorry about the flowers…” I noticed as I got up that I’d ducked into a flower bed when the door had first opened, “and, uhm… no thanks.”

“Really?” Gali questioned. “It gets cold out at night.”

“Actually, I should get going,” I explained, looking in the direction that Kopaka’d headed. “I’ve… I’ve got a few questions left for him. But I’ll be back afterwards.”

“For Kopaka…” her expression fell again. “Good luck,” she said without sounding very hopeful of success.

“Well, a lot has changed over the last few days,” I continued, trying to lend some legitimacy to my plan in her eyes. “He’s… he’s changed his plans before, and maybe I can get him to do it again.”

“I wouldn’t get my hopes up,” Gali sighed, “but please, try. You are right that something about him is different, and by this point you probably know him as well as anyone. If anyone can save him from himself... it could be you.”

“I hope so,” I agreed. “Anyways… I’ll see you again soon; two days at the most.”

“Go,” Gali replied. “I’ll be here.” There was something different about her there, about her tone, that kept me occupied for a moment as I quickly followed the path Kopaka’d taken. She’d sounded almost… hopeful, hopeful in a way that I hadn’t seen since the first evening when we got here, hopeful in the way that I was sure Hahli wanted to see. Was it an expression of confidence on her part? That was a lot for a person she’d hardly met, but then again she did say that I knew Kopaka about as well as anyone else at this point. If anyone stood a chance of changing his course at this point, to make sure he wouldn’t go back into the mountains or at least wouldn’t make it permanent, it really was me. And I’d already changed his plan once before…

Given Kopaka’s usual quick walking pace, my thoughts quickly turned to the worry that I’d lost him for good, that he’d already gotten far enough that I’d never find him in the myriad of city streets. When I reached the crossing where we’d turned onto the street with Macku and Hahli’s house on it and still hadn’t caught so much of a glimpse of him, I decided that my only chance was to try and beat him to the central station, to catch him there… but which way was fastest? On a hunch, I turned left, the direction from which we’d come, and started running. The underground rail line had to have at least one branch that went to the central station, and there’d been a city map there as well, so either way it’d help me get to the central station quicker. As the sign advertising the entrance to Seaside Station came in to view, though, I started to slow down; I spotted a familiar figure sitting on a bench beneath the sign. It was Kopaka, apparently awaiting my return.

“Finished?” he asked as I approached.

“She… she took a while to go inside,” I explained, initially wanting to leave the details of our conversation out of the picture.

“No doubt because she saw you,” he deduced as he got up.

“Yeah, she did…” I admitted. “I told her I’d be back.”

“Good,” he concluded as he started to make his way down the stairs into the station.

“Good?” I wondered.

“She will need help, and you told me you were willing to give it,” he explained. “Your time will be much better spent helping her than it would’ve been trying to help Pohatu.”

“True, I guess…” He was definitely right there, tragic as it was… in his condition, even I couldn’t have done much to help Pohatu, but while Gali was physically in poor shape, her mind was still there, willing and able to set things straight.

“Central station, two tickets,” Kopaka informed the Agori behind the ticket counter. The latter informed us that our timing was ‘impeccable,’ since a train headed there was just about to depart. Kopaka’d already put the required widgets down on the counter before the he’d even read off the price, and within seconds we were making our way back into the station, where indeed a train was already waiting. There were a few other early bird passengers on board, so Kopaka opted to find the spot as far away from as many of them as possible, which turned out to be almost slap-bang in the middle of the central car this time. I started to speak up, but his expression immediately telegraphed to me in no uncertain terms that I was better off keeping my mouth shut while there were other people around; as Toa, we were attracting enough attention as it was, and he clearly wasn’t keen on me giving away anything now after he’d managed to keep his identity hidden for so long, regardless of how many questions I had. So I waited, albeit begrudgingly. Thankfully, the trip to the central station took only around fifteen minutes. Upon arrival, we made our way up from its underground portion, showed our return tickets to the Matoran manning the one open register, and soon found ourselves back on the upstairs landing where our next train was already waiting. However, the Matoran’d informed us that it would be a good thirty minutes ‘till departure, and that the train was at present being cleaned, preventing us from boarding. Kopaka opted to wait on one of the station benches instead; a capital idea that I was right no board with. Also, with no other Matoran or Agori in sight, I could finally pick up where I left off.

“You know, I’m proud of you,” I began as I took a seat next to him. He didn’t reply, so I elaborated: “you actually did it; you apologized to her.”

“So I did,” Kopaka confirmed matter-of-factly, “though I fail to see how that makes you proud.”

“You wouldn’t have done that normally,” I continued. “You would’ve just left that note and been done with it.”

“I said some things to set her straight,” Kopaka rephrased it. “Not exactly an earth-shattering development.”

“That’s not true,” I said, “and you know it.” He grumbled but didn't reply in word, which I took as a sure sign that I was right; what he’d done there was fundamentally against that part of his personality he refused to acknowledge, that ego that I’d seen as Shadow Kopaka and that had governed the way he'd lashed out at Gali the first time. It was also the part that drove his need to be alone, to be away from everyone, which was why he was going into those mountains again… so, if I’d gotten him to act against it once by arguing in his language of Duty to the Matoran, could I do it again? “You know, you don’t have to go…” I continued, but he immediately shut that down.

“Lis, save it for the journey,” he said with a hint of agitation in his voice. I hesitated for a moment, then decided to take his advice; if I was ticking him off, the chances of him cooperating were not good. Still, I wouldn’t let him off that easily. I would let off for now, but later I would broach the subject again. In light of what I'd just seen, I had decided on an ultimatum; somehow, he’d have to either admit to his real reason for going back to the mountains, or not go back at all.

Edited by Scorpion_Strike
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Chapter 49

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Slowly but surely, Matoran and Agori began to arrive on the platform. By the time we were allowed to board, there were enough to fill up a car or two, though by no means the entire train. As always, Kopaka made his way quietly to the back car, and as before we were alone, and tired enough to pretty much collapse on to the chairs and fall asleep right then and there, which is exactly what I did. I woke up to the light of the sunrise streaming into the cabin, a little over an hour after the train’d left station and still not feeling all that rested; I’d have to wait until we reached the forested section of the trip before it’d be easily possible to get some more. Kopaka appeared to be meditating as he’d often done during these long rides; probably thinking of whatever he was going to do when he got back to the mountains. Speaking of which, I was about to bring the subject up again when, to my surprise, he got up and made his way over to the front of the car, where a telescreen was located. In spite of having shown no interest in the happenings on the telescreen before, he attempted to turn it on. However, like the screens in the last cars of previous trips, this one did not appear to be functional, prompting him to make his way to the next car forward instead. Curious about what exactly he was interested in watching, I followed right behind.

The second to last car’s telescreen was also out of order, but the one in the next one forward was already on, turned to one of the premier news channels. There were a few Agori and Matoran dispersed throughout the car, and Kopaka took a seat relatively close to the telescreen but at least three away from the other inhabitants. I took the one next to him.

“What are you watching?” I asked quietly.

“It is almost seven,” he replied. “Hahli’s morning program is on at seven.”

“Oh, right…” I realized. The announcement, of course. Kopaka merely nodded, then turned his attention back on the screen. I did the same, and soon the intro to Hahli’s news program was playing, followed by the appearance of the Toa Mahri of Water sitting behind a desk in a studio, sorting through some notes while a large telescreen behind her displayed the program’s logo, a stylized version of her Kanohi Faxon accompanied by the title “Chronicler’s Report: Morning Edition.” It was a program that I’d seen plenty of, since Kirall’d always made a point of watching it religiously even when the Skakdi crisis was at its height. Normally, once the camera was on her, Hahli would look up with a smile, greet the viewers enthusiastically, and then proceed with whatever was on the docket for the day. However, on this day, even in the moment before she turned her attention to the camera, it was obvious that that infectious enthusiasm was missing.

“Good morning, Spherus Magna,” she greeted in an unusually solemn tone. “Breaking news today as Pohatu was found dead in his home shortly before sunrise.” She took a moment to clear her throat before continuing: “investigations are ongoing, but so far it appears that the former Toa Nuva died peacefully in his sleep.” The telescreen behind her changed to a portrait picture taken years ago of Pohatu as a Kolhii player, while Hahli explained some of the history behind the person. “A former member of the Toa Nuva, the Toa team that led the residents of the Matoran Universe during the Battle for Bara Magna, he became better known afterwards as the most successful Kolhii player in the history of the sport until a catastrophic injury took him out of the game. After several years of coaching, he formally retired from public life, referring any questions to his long-time friend and fellow Toa, Hewkii, who today informed us of his death. Memorial services are yet to be scheduled, but we will keep you updated on any developments.” She looked down at her notes for a moment, sighed, then looked up again, clearly trying to maintain a professional appearance in spite of the fact that this news very much affected her personally. “Excuse me for a moment,” she said in a slightly shaky voice, then gestured to her left. “With the weather for today, here is Aliesi.”

The camera cut to a Jungle Tribe Agori standing in front of an even larger telescreen displaying a stylized map of New Atero and the surrounding areas, who proceeded to explain with colorful graphics what the weather’d be like, not that I was paying much attention. Looking around, I noticed that most of the Matoran and Agori in the car looked quite shocked; those that were sitting next to each other were talking in hushed tones, while others turned their attention back to whatever they were reading or doing beforehand, their faces still betraying a degree of concern. A Po-Matoran who’d been sitting close to the back of the car, clearly quite upset, got up and walked down the aisle to the car in front. Before long, a couple of other Matoran and Agori followed, though perhaps it was more because it was about time for breakfast to be served in the dining car ahead than any feeling regarding the news. Kopaka, meanwhile, appeared to remain unmoved on the outside, sitting there with his hood pulled up to disguise himself from others and, perhaps, to disguise his feelings from me. He made no comment, and it wasn’t long before he got up and started for the car behind. I followed, and soon we were sitting down in the last car again, well away from the other passengers and the noise of the telescreen.

“Well, she got the message across,” I observed as a half-hearted attempt to start a conversation again. Kopaka apparently saw no reason to reply; instead, he reached behind his back and produced a couple of widgets.

“Breakfast is being served in the dining car.” He offered me the widgets.

“True…” I took the widgets, but thought it rather curious that breakfast was his preferred topic right now. “I guess I am kind of hungry…”

“While you are over there, could you get me something?” he asked.

“Sure, what do you like?” I got up.

“Whatever they have,” he said dismissively. Normally, I would’ve expected him to be more specific, but I quickly deduced that he was either exhausted beyond caring or just wanted me gone for a while.

“Sure, I’ll be right back,” I said as I started for the door. The dining car was close to the middle of the train, and quite crowded; the other passengers were getting meals too, so I had to wait in line, or rather I would’ve had to if I hadn’t been a Toa. The moment I entered the car, which up until then appeared to have had an atmosphere of light consternation about it, everyone fell quiet and all eyes of the Matoran and Agori turned to me. Some stepped aside, motioning for me to go ahead towards the counter, which was being manned at the time by a Fire Tribe Agori. I moved ahead, rather uncomfortable with the whole display even if they were just trying to be nice; the looks on their faces alone could pretty much be read as “my condolences.” The whispering in the back didn’t help.

“Uhm, two Burnak sandwiches please,” I asked the Agori when I reached the counter.

“Of course,” he immediately reached down, pulling two wrapped-up sandwiches from a shelf under the counter. I put the widgets Kopaka’d given me down along with some of my own, he counted them out, and that was the transaction. “Sorry about the news,” he said as I picked up the sandwiches.

“Thanks,” I nodded politely before making my way back to the door by which I’d entered, increasingly nervous about the fact that everyone seemed to be looking at me… I mean, for all they knew I’d never met Pohatu, yet all of them seemed to make the assumption that his death was like a personal loss to me. I mean, yes, it was, but… A few months before, if I’d walked in right after Pohatu’s death, no one would’ve so much as blinked; just another Ce-Matoran going about her business, but now that I was a Toa it was like they immediately jumped to the conclusion that I must’ve known Pohatu even though he’d purposely isolated himself over the last few centuries. It was just another reminder that, much as I sometimes wanted to believe that I hadn’t much changed, especially in awkward moments like those, my appearance to others certainly had. Returning to the last car, I found Kopaka hadn’t so much as moves a muscle. I offered him the sandwich, he took it, and we ate in silence. Outside, the city of New Atero had vanished over the horizon, our view now replaced by green rolling hills and pastures, whose most notable inhabitants consisted of a well-dispersed herd of Kikanalo. It was a beautiful day, not that either of us really cared that much; for how I was feeling the sky should’ve been gray with pouring rain, and based on what I’d seen after the announcement and in the dining car, I wasn’t alone. For a while, I found my thoughts drifting to my teammates in Onu-Koro-Nuva; had they seen the news? Given how early it was, probably not... then again, depending on the events of the previous night Kirall might've gotten up to see the morning edition. Still, sooner or later they’d come to hear of it. How would they take it? For the time being, the only conclusion I could come to was that Jahlpu would probably take it most seriously, which, to borrow Kopaka’s words, wasn’t exactly an earth-shattering development. Then again, they’d probably all be up for at least attending the memorial.

After finishing his breakfast, Kopaka returned to meditation again. Looking for a drink and having forgotten to bring some along after the first awkward spectacle in the dining car, I started on my way back to there, hoping that perhaps the crowd had died down slightly. Along the way I found that the third-to-last car was now empty, its passengers probably in the dining car, but the telescreen was still on. To my surprise, they were rolling footage around Pohatu’s house, though not in it, because Jaller and some of the New Atero Guard had apparently blocked it off for an investigation. Over it all, Hahli explained in greater detail how things had gone that morning; according to her, Hewkii’d gone over to Pohatu’s house just before sunrise to check on the old Toa before starting his training regimen for the day, and had found the elder in bed and unresponsive. Shortly thereafter, a first response team pronounced Pohatu dead on the scene, barely twenty minutes before the broadcast of the morning edition of Chronicler’s Report. Jaller answered some questions to the crew on the scene, informing them that, so far, all the signs pointed to a natural death. Of course, I knew that was all a lie, but whatever Kopaka’d put on that note, it appeared quite clear to me that the Toa Mahri fully intended to cement the legend of Pohatu as he’d intended it.

The interview with Jaller was followed up, after some other program and a long break, with a more in-depth, if hastily prepared look at the life and work of the Toa Nuva of Stone, starting with his first appearance to the Po-Matoran on the island of Mata Nui. Hewkii was brought in to answer questions and explain a lot along the way, remaining quite composed considering he was talking in depth about someone who he’d been very close to and who had died just that morning. As the broadcast continued, he became more and more the presenter over Hahli, though the latter frequently asked him to elaborate on various parts of the story. Descriptions of Pohatu and the other Toa Nuva fighting hostile Rahi and Makuta Teridax himself were followed by the laying out of the Bohrok Wars, the return of Teridax and the Rahkshi, and the appearance of Takanuva. Hahli mentioned that, as a side note, that Takanuva had been gone for years; best anyone knew, he’d left the planet to go and find the Great Beings themselves, who he believed had left to build another world elsewhere. On this journey, he’d been accompanied by an odd Po-Matoran named Velika. It certainly was a quest up the former chronicler’s alley, though many recognized it had increasingly become an obsession to him in the years leading up to his disappearance. Either way, Hewkii turned the attention back to Pohatu by briefly leading into the Toa Nuva’s disastrous visit to Voya Nui, which led to him and the other Toa Mahri becoming Toa in the first place. That, as Hahli informed the viewers, concluded part one of a look at the life of Toa Nuva Pohatu, with part two to be broadcast at the same time tomorrow.

By that point, between the length of the program and all the interruptions and breaks for other news along the way, the clock was closing on eleven-thirty. Quite a few other passengers had come to the car in the meantime, most also watching the special broadcast while it was on. Murmuring among them afterwards suggested to me that it had gotten them thinking, which in light of the intent to cement Pohatu in the public consciousness seemed to me like a good thing. However, given that we’d reached the forested part of the journey and that I was feeling more tired than ever, I decided not to join in and instead make my way back to the last car to take advantage of the shade and at last catch some serious sleep. Kopaka appeared to be doing the same thing. It wasn’t until the late afternoon when I woke up again, at least feeling refreshed if still completely off-schedule. By then, the train was winding its way along tracks that snaked around one forested hill after another, occasionally resorting to bridges or tunnels to make the journey slightly less… meandering and lengthy. Granted, that seemed kind of pointless given that it took well over twenty hours to get from New Atero to Onu-Koro-Nuva anyways, but at least this line didn’t make any unwarranted stops along the way. Worryingly, however, Kopaka was nowhere to be seen, a mystery that was solved quickly when, as I moved forward through cars looking for him, he appeared coming back the other way with dinner from the dining car. I opted to follow his example, and before long we were back in the last car, enjoying the traveler’s variety of Gafna cubes and other assorted tidbits.

“You know, there was a special on about Pohatu earlier,” I began as we polished off the last of the meal. “They were talking about his life.”

“What part?” Kopaka asked.

“The earlier parts, I guess,” I elaborated. “Island of Mata Nui, mostly. They’ll broadcast part two tomorrow.”

“Have they scheduled the ceremony yet?” Kopaka wondered.

“If they did, they didn’t say,” I answered.

“Yet the process has begun,” Kopaka concluded, betraying just a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

“I suppose it has,” I acknowledged, “but it’s a pity that you won’t be there to see it.” Instantly, I could tell Kopaka’s mood drop, along with the surrounding temperature.

“Lis, I have explained myself on that matter,” he coldly reminded me.

“Yes, you have, plenty of times…” I recalled, “going back because Duty and all. Still, you’ve never really told the truth about it, have you?”

“Why would I have told you anything but the truth?” he wondered.

“Because you can’t handle it,” I pointed out. “You’ve been very keen to dismiss what I saw that night when they were working on your leg, but I think it reveals a lot more about you than you can stand.”

“You have already brought that up,” he recalled. “It did not end well.”

“No, but I thought I had nothing to lose,” I admitted, “and that was before you changed.”

“Changed?” He clearly had his doubts.

“Yeah, something’s different about you,” I continued. “Ever since I showed you what happened to Onua… you turned around immediately after that, and did something that you’d already said you wouldn’t do: fulfilling Pohatu's wish.”

“I had new information,” Kopaka explained more calmly than he felt about it. “As such, I had to re-evaluate my decision.”

“Right, but then you did it again,” I continued, “with Gali. You apologized to her; the old you wouldn’t have done that. The old you told her off because you resented her for what she let herself become.”

“I still do,” he pointed out, “but you made a sound argument. The Matoran would benefit more from a Gali that conquered her failings than one that publicly went down with them, and as such it was my duty to help get her started, even if it meant telling lies.”

“I don’t think those were all lies, though,” I countered. “You do care for her, and it showed. That apology was genuine.”

“Believe what you will,” he dismissed the idea.

“Regardless, something’s still changed,” I got back on point, “and in light of that I want to ask you to re-evaluate another decision: going back to the mountains.”

“That was never a decision, it was the end goal all along,” he pointed out.

“Semantics,” I scoffed.

“I have already explained why I am going back,” he reiterated once again. “My absence benefits the Matoran more than my presence, and I am doing my duty as I have chosen it up in the mountains.”

“You didn’t make the former argument until you saw what happened with Onua,” I noted, “and the latter doesn’t hold water if you die up there, which is what’s going to happen and you know it. You die up there and no one ever figures out what you found; how does that help the Matoran?”

“In time, you will see,” he sighed, showing exasperation more than the anger that I'd expected. “Patience, Lis, have patience.”

“Oh, so you’ve, say… amended your plan to rectify this issue?” I fished on. “’cause from my point of view it looks like nothing’s changed."

“You could say the plan has been amended,” he acknowledged, “and you will see it soon. For now, I prefer you leave me alone.”

“Of course you do,” I sighed, “and I’m sure your amended plan seems great, just… you were willing to consider what I argued before. Please, do that now.”

“I will,” he promised.

“Thanks.” It came out more half-heartedly than I meant; the whole exchange wasn’t filling me with hope that he’d actually reconsider. “One more thing,” I remembered as I got up.

“Go on,” he invited.

“What did you put on that note?” I asked. Really, he couldn’t have written that much on it. How detailed had his instructions been?

“A hero died today. Please ensure that he is well remembered.” He said it as though we was reciting it.

“That’s all?” The simplicity of the message took me by surprise. No details as to who the hero was or how he should be remembered?

“They knew what to do from there,” Kopaka asserted.

“I suppose so…” I nodded. No argument there; part one of a multi-part special oh Pohatu's life within hours of his death was far more than I’d expected, even if the production standards of the first part were understandably low-key. I suspected Kopaka felt the same way, but with him already locking me out as he returned to the inner sanctum of his mind, I didn’t ask. He’d told me what I wanted to hear, that he’d consider my proposal, and for all I could decipher that was what he was doing right now… or had he already done it? As I made my way to the front of the car, his amended plan started to occupy my thoughts, too: what could it possibly be, and when was he planning on actually showing me? I preferred it be revealed sooner rather than later, both because of curiosity and so I could attempt to poke holes in it, so to speak. I mean, whatever he’d thought up had to be either a way to stave off disaster, which I reasoned would be folly given that his condition could do naught but deteriorate, or a way to get what he had put together by the time of his death to the Matoran, which still didn’t resolve the fact that he’d be dead whenever it came to fruition. Or was he planning to come back again if he got hurt bad? That was an easy one to argue against; he’d barely made it back in time the first time around, what possible guarantee could he have that he’d be able to make it back the second? Then there was the fact that there’d been hints that this plan somehow involved me; he’d paid for my tickets ever since he’d gone on his way back to New Atero, as clear a sign as any that he intended to keep me around and a marked departure from his previous policy of letting me come along at my own expense so long as it suited him. I spent quite a while trying to reason my way through in this manner, hoping to decipher what his plan was, but in the end I still came up with nothing conclusive.

Nightfall eventually passed without much notice, though a re-broadcast of the first part of the special about Pohatu’s life on a different channel kept me entertained for a while as I spent some time two cars ahead. The only other thing of note that happened was that, halfway through the re-broadcast, the date for Pohatu’s official burial had been decided upon and was announced; almost exactly a week away, a point which was purely academic given that Kopaka would likely be long gone by then unless I had something to say about it. Oh, and whenever Pohatu wasn’t being talked about, the upcoming fight between Tahu and the Porcupine was being trumpeted all over… Apparently, people were working themselves into a frenzy over it, making me all the happier that I wouldn’t be in town when it happened. Still, the thought of the world possibly losing another Toa Nuva so soon was, I admit, a worrying one, and between that, attempting to mimic Kopaka’s reasoning in an effort to figure out his plan, a few drinks in the catering car, and a quick nap back in the last car in the early hours, the hours went by surprisingly quickly for me.

I woke up again shortly before our arrival in Onu-Koro-Nuva. Looking down towards the back of the car, I noticed Kopaka’d taken a break from his usual meditative trance to clean up his blade. I stretched some, walked over, then sat back down to await the arrival at the station and started thinking of how exactly I could quickly get off, put Jahlpu at ease, and then get back on before the train was on the move again. “The train’ll stop only stop for like fifteen minutes, right?” I asked.

“I believe it does,” Kopaka answered as he inspected the blade against the light. “However, I have something to take care of in Onu-Koro-Nuva. We will take the next one instead.”

“We will?” Another stop was not what I’d expected. Given the current interest in Toa after Pohatu’s death, I’d thought that Kopaka was trying to get away as soon as possible, not to loiter around Onu-Koro-Nuva again.

“The train leaving at five would work best,” he continued. “It will be easier to get through Ko-Koro-Nuva if we arrive at night.” Right, not like I wasn’t going to object to him going through… “Until then, put your companions at ease. They likely will have missed your company.”

“Of course…” I rolled my eyes. Yeah, he was probably right concerning Jahlpu, but Lerome and Kirall? I doubted it… for all I’d thought about how Kopaka’d changed over the last few days, in reality the same could be said about me and more, and the new me, if that was the right description, didn’t care so much for their antics anymore. Still, I was curious to hear their thoughts concerning Pohatu’s demise, even if they were likely to be expressed amidst a load of other things that I really didn’t care about.

“So, what do you have to do, then?” I wondered.

“Nothing currently of your concern,” he dismissed as he stowed away the blade.

“Somehow I doubt that,” I complained, but he didn’t reply, apparently set on playing his cards close to his chest in a rather frustrating development. By that point, the train was already slowing down and the station was in sight, which more or less cut the conversation short regardless.

Edited by Scorpion_Strike
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  • 2 weeks later...

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Chapter 50

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It was still completely dark out when we stepped onto the platform and once again crossed the bridge leading onto Onu-Koro-Nuva’s main street. Kopaka’d purposely waited a few minutes to allow the rest of the disembarking passengers to head into town before taking to the street himself.

“I will be back here at five,” he informed me.

“I’ll be here,” I confirmed as he turned and headed down the street. In spite of Onu-Koro-Nuva’s round-the-clock schedule, above ground everything was as calm and still as it would’ve been anywhere else at this hour; the Toa of Ice calmly and resolutely made his way down an empty main street, heading for the entrance to the underground city, still showing signs of a slight limp that no doubt he was trying to suppress. I still wondered what business he was going to attend to, but between an assurance that I would come to know in time and the fact that I had business of my own, I couldn’t follow him now. Instead, I decided to wait out Jahlpu and the others in the lobby of the hotel where they’d been staying. I figured it was preferable to disturbing them in their rooms, and busied myself with the breakfast part of the place’s ‘bed and breakfast’ mantra and absentmindedly flipping through a few channels on the lobby telescreen. It took a good hour before, at last, Jahlpu appeared on the second floor balcony.

“Lis!?” he called down just as I was about to doze off again in one of the lounge chairs facing the telescreen. I got up as he quickly made his way down the stairs. “Well, you weren’t kidding when you said back as soon as possible…” he commented as he crossed the lobby to my position.

“It was only two stops,” I explained, hoping that that was all the detail he would ask for.

“So I take it your friend has left town?” he unfortunately continued, putting a particularly sarcastic emphasis on the word “friend.”

“He will soon,” I answered, “but I’ve got a few hours until then. Figured I’d at least drop by to show you I’m alright.”

“And thank goodness you are,” Jahlpu concluded as he took one of the seats, prompting me to retake mine. “Honestly, you really gotta tell me when you go running off like that.”

“It was kind of an emergency,” I admitted. “Didn’t have time to drop by.”

“Emergency?” Jahlpu looked at me curiously. “What in the world were you doing after that tour, sis?”

“Actually, I went and saw Nuparu,” I recalled. “We talked for a while, then the emergency arose and I had to head back to New Atero pronto.”

“Pronto, huh?” Jahlpu nodded, clearly not quite convinced. “Right… oh, speaking of New Atero, did you hear about what happened?”

“About Pohatu?” I figured that was where he was going. “Yeah, I heard… sad, really.” An understatement, given what I knew.

“No kidding,” Jahlpu agreed. “He must’ve been hurting pretty bad after that injury.” Oh, he didn’t know the half of it. “Well, at least he died peacefully. We’re all going to see the ceremony, by the way, whenever it is. You should come, too.”

“Don’t worry, I intend to,” I confirmed.

“Good…” Jahlpu trailed off, his attention drifting to the catering set up across the lobby. “Be right back.” He got up to fix what would have to pass for a breakfast while I turned back to the telescreen, now turned to the news channel that I knew Hahli’s Chronicler’s Report would appear on before too long. At present, promotions for the big fight of the night were filling up the airtime, providing more background on the Porcupine than I was interested in or would’ve watched voluntarily were it not for the promise of what was to follow. Luckily, the appearance of Lerome and Kirall soon distracted me.

“What up, sis?” Lerome’s voice could be heard through the lobby, though it lacked just a little of its usual enthusiasm, no doubt an effect of whatever he was hung over from. I looked up to find the green Toa standing on the second floor balcony, accompanied by Kirall.

“Ah, look who’s back,” the Toa of Water sarcastically observed.

“Since when do you guys get up early?” I jokingly replied as they made their way down. Lerome did so quickly, holding himself in that light, carefree way I was used to, but my attention was on Kirall, whose movement just seemed a little off before she even reached the stairs. As she made her way down, it quickly became clear what had changed; Kirall had already undergone at least one of the series of questionable procedures that she’d been planning, and was now sporting a… let’s say generous pair of hips that’d significantly altered her gait in a way she clearly wasn’t used to yet. It was just a bit too tightly controlled, lacking the smooth grace she usually practiced, betraying the fact that she was expending a lot more effort than normal in maintaining a poise and posture. No doubt the heels were no help… Had it not been for the events of the last few days weighing on my mind, I would’ve struggled not to laugh at the spectacle; as it was, my reaction was more along the lines of exasperated sigh. Vain as ever, Kirall clearly noticed she had my attention, and upon reaching the bottom of the stairs she struck a pose.

“Well?” she enquired. “What’ya think?”

“Progress, huh?” I replied unenthusiastically.

“That’s one way to put it,” Lerome commented sarcastically as he turned to join Jahlpu at the breakfast counter.

“Oh, they do seriously good work here,” Kirall ignored him. “Quality parts, nothing less.”

“Must be expensive,” I noted.

“Oh, not at all,” Kirall smiled as she settled on one of the seats, facing me. “Toa discount.”

“Of course…” I sighed. I’d seen plenty of questionable uses of the goodwill towards Toa by my teammates, but this took the cake.

“We’re starting work on my shoulders today,” Kirall continued. “Lotta stuff to be done there, but I can’t wait to see the result.”

“Yeah, neither can I…” In reality, I was fast losing interest in her antics, and I was picking up increasingly frustrated vibes from Jahlpu, no doubt because he disapproved even more of the modifications than I did.

“And neither can every Glatorian from here to New Atero,” Lerome quipped as he entered the half-circle of furniture facing the telescreen and planted himself on one of the couches, earning a snide look from Kirall as he did so. Following closely behind with a plate and glass, Jahlpu completed the set.

“So, what’ve you been up to?” Kirall posed the inevitable question to me.

“Uhm… had to run back to New Atero.” I attempted without much success to spin up a story. “Friend had to run an errand, I went along.”

“Two days on a train for an errand?” Lerome questioned. “Must’ve been an important one, then.”

“It was,” I confirmed.

“I take it this friend was the same one as last time?” Lerome deduced.

“He was,” I nodded, trying to pass myself off as though nothing had happened even though inside I was begging for the clock to speed up so Hahli’s Chronicler’s Report would come on and divert their attention.

“Ooh, traveling with company,” Kirall’s eyes widened. “Is there something more we should know, sis? Running off with the mysterious hooded stranger...”

“No.” I shut that down immediately. “I’m not you, and either way, I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“Uh-huh…” Kirall nodded before casting what for her passed as a knowing glance to Lerome, who replied with an eye roll.

“I mean, she is right: she’s not you,” he repeated to Kirall.

“Too bad,” the latter leaned back in her chair, turning back to me. “Seriously, you should have some fun every once in a while. Like you used to.”

“That was different, and no thanks.” So I found myself once again defending past actions and remembering why I hadn’t exactly been jumping up and down to meet my teammates again. Not beyond putting Jahlpu at ease, at least. Of course, the Toa of Earth had nothing to add to the largely insubstantial banter, but there was no doubt in my mind that he was far more interested in what I’d been doing than our brother and sister were. Either way, Kirall’s attention soon turned to describing the procedure she’d planned for the day; I mostly nodded and pretended to listen, but in reality my mind was elsewhere, and no doubt the same could’ve been said of my brothers. Thankfully, it wasn’t long until the intro theme of Hahli’s Chronicler’s Report started playing and all eyes turned to the telescreen. Both Hahli and the mood of the program had clearly recovered compared to the day before, even if the first item on the docket was the formal announcement of Pohatu’s memorial service. Hahli mentioned that part two of the special on the deceased Toa’s life would come on air shortly after the Chronicler’s Report, then led into a segment focusing on Hewkii as, in spite of recent tragedy, he and his teammates were still preparing to play in a Kolhii game to be broadcast during the afternoon. The game, Hewkii explained, would be dedicated to Pohatu’s memory. Following that, Hahli passed on the spotlight to Aliesi and the weather. Apparently, New Atero would experience an overcast but otherwise dry day, while we could expect significant rainfall and the residents of Ko-Koro-Nuva had to look forward to thunderstorms.

“Mountain weather,” Jahlpu dourly observed. Looking out the windows, we could already see the dark clouds gathering.

“Well, I’d better be off, then,” Kirall began as she got up. “Promised I’d be there early. Wanna come?” She directed the question specifically at me.

“No thanks,” I declined.

“Aw, c’mon,” she continued. “Aren’t you the least bit curious? It’s really cool how they actually do it.” Like I hadn’t seen my share of surgery.

“Forge new parts, open you up, replace parts, close you up,” I laid out the steps. “I’m fine just seeing the end result, thanks.”

“Well, later then,” Kirall replied somewhat indignantly, then quickly made her way out.

“Good call,” Lerome commented with our sister out of earshot. “I watched when they did her hips, and I don’t want to see anything like that ever again.”

“It’s disgraceful,” Jahlpu grumbled under his breath as he got up to put his empty dishes away.

“You actually watched?” I asked Lerome. I found that quite surprising; not like him to sit still and watch something for hours unless the thing in question was a Kolhii match.

“Not much better to do around here,” the Toa of Air complained. “These Onu-Matoran aren’t much for parties, and neither are the Rock Tribe Agori. Plus their Glatorian are always about something… so, yeah, I’ve been pretty bored.”

“At least you’ve got a Kolhii game to watch later today,” I reminded him.

“No kidding,” he sighed. “I need my fix. Anyways… you got plans?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “Not much besides watching the special on Pohatu, really.”

“We’re gonna see his memorial,” Lerome noted. “You should come.”

“Jahlpu told me, and yes, I’m planning on it,” I replied.

“Speaking of, he’s found a place,” Lerome informed me, gesturing at Jahlpu as the latter returned to our company.

“You actually did, eh?” I remembered him talking about it over the phone the night before, but back then it’d just been tentative.

“Yup,” Jahlpu confirmed as he took his seat again. “Pretty nice place, actually, and close to a mine entrance. Dirt cheap.” Whether intentional or not, the pun on his element elicited a slight chuckle from me and another eye roll from Lerome.

“Sure the cheap part isn’t because it’s right next to the mine entrance?” I wondered.

“No doubt, but hey, I’m going to be working in there, so all the better for me,” Jahlpu shrugged.

“Fair enough,” I conceded. It didn’t sound like a place where I’d want to live, but being Jahlpu he’d surely thought it through.

“I can give you a tour later if you want,” he offered.

“Later, sure.” Why not? Not like I had anything better to do with my day.

“All this talk of domesticity,” Lerome complained. “Settling down already? We ain’t even seen half this planet yet.”

“We all must sometime,” Jahlpu replied in a much more serious tone.

“Speak for yourself,” Lerome dismissed. “Were it not for our sister, I’d have blown this dump long ago.”

“This dump, as you choose to call it, provides half the raw material needed to keep this planet going,” Jahlpu shot back, clearly offended by Lerome’s disparaging characterization of the place. “I happen to think that I can do something useful by being a part of that.”

“Yeah, like they need the help,” Lerome grinned as he leaned back and used his control over air to cause the up until now motionless ceiling fan to turn. “It was all going downhill until the arrival of the Toa-hero miner… who showed them how to go downhill even faster.”

“Very clever,” Jahlpu acknowledged sarcastically, but I could tell his mood was rapidly turning to anger, something which his following words only confirmed. “But hey, what was I expecting? Not like you to actually try to make something out of yourself, or to understand those who are, right? You’d prefer to just recklessly, no stupidly hurl yourself through life.”

“Reckless and stupid is fun,” Lerome flippantly pointed out, “and I’ll prefer that over losing my mind in boredom, kinda like what’s happening now.”

“Boredom arises from lack of purpose,” Jahlpu countered. “How fitting that you are the bored one, then.”

“C’mon guys, cool it,” I spoke up before Lerome could reply. “Don’t tell me I came back just to see you two hurl insults at each other.” For a moment, neither replied. “Part two of the special on Pohatu’s on in a bit,” I continued, “and I’d like to think that the spirit of unity that he represented still holds some meaning. So, please, can you put imaginary differences aside?” Jahlpu sighed, then nodded. Lerome shrugged.

“Whatever.” The Toa of Air turned his attention back to the telescreen, and pretty soon Jahlpu and I did the same as part two of the special began. It picked up where the first left off, with a quick recap of the Toa Nuva’s visit to Voya Nui, which definitely wasn’t the most successful chapter in the team’s history; it was best summed up as a series of misunderstandings and miscalculations that led to them being defeated twice, almost killed, and at one point fighting the very Matoran they’d sworn to protect. Apparently, though they acknowledged it had happened, the team had done much to downplay the events in years after, leading to the common misconception that they hadn’t actually done much of significance on the island at all and had instead just handed the baton to the Toa Inika upon their arrival. Either way, while the new Toa tasked themselves with actually going after the Mask of Life, Pohatu and the Toa Nuva set about preparing to use it. The events of Voya Nui’d taught them a lesson, though; while the team’s adventures before Voya Nui had often seen them splitting up and going off in all manner of different directions, they now actually stuck together, largely on the insistence of Pohatu and, unsurprisingly, Gali. Their quest to retrieve the Staff or Artakha, while not valiantly remembered, was one of their more cohesive and well-executed missions, even if it still nearly resulted in the death of all of them at one point; they were saved only by a last-resort Nova Blast on the part of Gali, an event that I’d seen quite vividly some days before.

Another defining moment, or at least defining as the program presented it, was Pohatu’s handling of the Toa’s visit to Odina. During negotiations (if that was what they could be called) with the infamous Shadowed One, he largely stuck to the background, preferring to let the official leader of the team do the talking even if he didn’t necessarily agree with Tahu’s attempts to negotiate with a being so unapologetically evil. Instead, when they left the Dark Hunter fortress without anything resembling a deal, he used his ability to set timed stone traps to cause the place to collapse shortly after the Toa’s departure, ensuring the safety of his team while still dealing a serious blow to the organization. It also gave rise to the other Toa’s famous characterization of Pohatu’s tactics in the form of the phrase “pulling a Pohatu,” which Tahu (who’d come on the program both to talk about Pohatu and to boost ratings in light of his appearance in the arena later that day) described as “smashing things and making sure you and your friends are somewhere else when it all goes boom.” It was a phrase that, in a lot of ways, really seemed to define the Pohatu the program was painting into the world’s memory: a Toa who got things done, one with a no-nonsense approach, a preference for simple, proven ways to deal with problems, and a particular emphasis on the virtue of Unity.

Having made his appearance first to explain the events on Odina, Tahu was subjected to a further live interview with Hahli before the program moved with the history of the Toa to Karda Nui. Seated across from the Toa Mahri of Water in the studio, he looked to have recovered almost completely from his injuries from the week before, his armor and mask polished up to the point where they looked new. By and large, the Toa Nuva of Fire (if he still deserved that title) was asked in bits and pieces to offer some personal insight into parts of history the program’d already covered. Apparently, though, he was there to stay for a while longer, ‘cause as Hahli moved along into discussing Karda Nui, he remained to offer some commentary regarding why the Toa Nuva opted to tackle the challenges in the core of the Mata Nui robot in the way that they did, and into the role that Pohatu played in the process. They’d split up into two groups, apparently to more effectively root out the keystones, and Pohatu joined Lewa and Kopaka essentially to search the ceiling of the place. Pohatu distinguished himself several times over in the events of the following days, being alternatingly the mediator and savior of the “Toa Phantoka” as they became known to the local Av-Matoran population. In particular, the way he recognized and stopped his allies from fighting the Toa Ignika was very reminiscent of the way I’d seen him and Gali come between the Toa and Glatorian during the parties’ initial, chaotic encounter during the battle for Bara Magna, and his subsequent rescuing of Toa Nuva Lewa from having his light drained at great risk of having the act performed on himself instead also cemented the image of the Toa Nuva of Stone who would lay down his life for his allies at the drop of a hat.

Pohatu’s tendency to level-headed reason and fair negotiation even in the face of conflict showed itself again upon the return of Takanuva, whose partial light drain led to others questioning his loyalty; were it not for the fact that the “Toa of Twilight” had revealed himself to Pohatu and Gali first, chances were he would’ve gotten himself blown out of the sky by his allies. The Karda Nui history concluded with a retelling of the events of what was then considered the final battle, which culminated for Pohatu in his acquisition of a high-speed flying vehicle, which along with two others ensured the Toa Nuva could safely escape the core of the universe as storms caused by Mata Nui’s awakening tore everything inside apart. The way Tahu described the battle was vivid, displaying in the Toa of Fire more than a hint of that gift for telling legends that old Turaga Vakama had been so renowned for. However, it was the question on which Hahli ended the interview, and its answer, that became the most memorable part of the program for me:

“First off, thank you for coming here to give us all so much better a look at who Pohatu was,” she began, leaving no one in doubt that the end of the program was impending, “and you’ve already mentioned that you’ll be giving a more prepared eulogy at the ceremony next week, but in summary, how would you describe the Pohatu that you came to know through the events we’ve covered so far?”

“Well…” Tahu began as he gathered his thoughts, “he never proclaimed to be the strongest, the smartest, or in any way superior to anyone, but he was always ready and willing to serve and sacrifice everything for those we swore to defend. We saw that today, and you’ll see it again tomorrow, I’m sure, and on top of it all he did it with a sense of humor that made even Kopaka like him; now there’s an achievement.” The Toa of Fire’s rare attempt at humor elicited some chuckles from Hahli and himself. “But, in all seriousness,” he continued, “he embodied the virtues better than pretty much anyone I’ve ever known… As close to a perfect Toa as anyone’s ever been. That’s about all I can say.” Honestly, while it seemed highly hypocritical for Tahu to talk of anything like a perfect Toa, there was a humble sincerity to the way he described Pohatu at the end that was a world removed from the overbearing, larger-than-life personality that the old Toa Nuva of Fire was known for. Apparently, that public personality was carefully crafted for arena fighting, and it was a personality that I wanted to hate, but the Tahu I saw now and that I’d seen that time when Kopaka and I had visited him at home after his last battle was deserving of far more respect than either of us was willing to give him. If anything, the contrast underscored just to what lengths Tahu had had to go to carve out a place for himself in this world, or rather, the lengths that he’d been willing to go to.

“Well, looks like that’s it for today,” Jahlpu remarked as he got up and stretched. Looking up, I noticed the clock was closing in on eleven as Hahli informed us over the broadcast that this part of the special, like yesterday’s, would be re-run on a different channel a few hours later.

“Part three tomorrow,” Lerome noted as we followed our brother’s example.

“…and we’ll be reporting live tonight from his big fight with the Porcupine,” Hahli finished the broadcast, segwaying into yet another promotion for the fight of the night. At this point, I turned the telescreen off.

“I’m sure that’ll be fun to watch after the Kolhii match,” Lerome commented. I considered responding, but decided to spare him my lecture on why I considered it entirely inappropriate for the Toa of Fire to be fighting in the arena. “Speaking of which, pre-game stuff will be starting soon.”

“Oh boy…” I sighed. “They don’t even leave you time for lunch, do they?”

“Actually, I’ve got some time,” Lerome explained, “so I’m going to run out and grab something now.”

“Good idea, actually,” Jahlpu agreed. “What’s say I show you my new place afterwards?” he turned to me.

“Yeah, sure.” I actually was kind of curious.

“Well, that settles it, then,” Lerome concluded. “We grab something, I come back here, and you two go check out your little mining hut. What are we waiting for?” With that, he headed for the door. Jahlpu shook his head, I shrugged, and we followed.

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Chapter 51

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The rain forecast that morning had already begun to fall when we stepped outside, and it wasn’t just a small drizzle either; this was a heavy downpour, complete with a dark sky and sounds of thunder in the distance. It was certainly appropriate weather given our collective mood. Having lead the way with at least a modicum of enthusiasm, Lerome immediately stopped under the porch and uttered some expletive at the sight of it.

“So, you guys got any place in mind?” I asked, then added: “someplace close, I hope.”

“Through this?” Lerome incredulously gestured out and down the road. The rain was dense enough to reduce the entrance to the underground city to a dark blur in a veil of water.

“Little place down the road is closest,” Jahlpu decided unceremoniously. “Come on.” He stepped out and led the way; I followed right behind, while Lerome hesitated for a moment before doing the same and then immediately complaining in a rather colorful manner that the rain was cold, prompting Jahlpu to tell him to grow up. The little place down the road, thankfully, had a pretty sizable porch with some tables set up under cover from the elements. It wasn’t far, but nonetheless we were pretty drenched by the time we got there.

“Not worth it,” Lerome muttered. “So not worth it…” The comments earned him another glare from Jahlpu, after which the Toa of Earth approached the large windowed opening in the façade of the building. Apparently, the place was called Kalmok’s, and the menu amounted to cheap travelers’ food; various kinds of fried rahi and sandwiches, that kind of thing. We each placed an order, then took seats around one of the tables on the porch. Kalmok’s was located almost exactly halfway between the entrance to the rail station and the tunnel to underground Onu-Koro-Nuva, offering an excellent view all the way down the main street, not that there was anything going on outside. Looking around for a while, my eyes eventually fell on the tunnel entrance, where I noticed that the doors to Nuparu’s workshop were closed.

“So, did you meet Nuparu yet?” I asked Jahlpu.

“Briefly, yesterday” he answered. “He was preparing to go back to New Atero this morning to help with the upcoming ceremony.”

“Hm…” I wondered for a moment what exactly Nuparu’s role in planning the event could be. “He was probably asked to help with designing a statue, I bet.”

“Pohatu’s statue? Probably,” Jahlpu agreed.

“I bet they’ll put it somewhere watching over a Kolhii field,” Lerome added. “It’d be appropriate.”

“…and they’ll probably name the field after him, and a street or two, and a park, and a building…” Jahlpu listed off in a somewhat sarcastic tone. “The whole kit and caboodle, I’m sure.”

“Kit and caboodle?” I questioned.

“Well, anything to get people to remember him again,” Jahlpu explained. “I mean, look how quickly they managed to start throwing up a four-part special about him on the telescreen. Guy’s not even been dead for two days yet.”

“Well, he was important,” I pointed out. “I mean, with all he did he deserves a decent memory.”

“Yeah, sure, I guess…” Jahlpu kind of shrugged, which to me seemed a bit of a lackluster reaction considering the Toa Nuva of Stone’s list of accomplishments. I was about to question him on it when we were interrupted by Lerome.

“Food’s here,” he called out as three plates appeared on the counter. We retrieved the plates and ate in silence for a while; well, silence if you don’t count the sound of constant, heavy rain. We were just about finishing up when, glancing towards the tunnel entrance, I noticed some movement close to the entrance, right around where the side entrance of Nuparu’s shop was. A door opened, and just through the rain I could make out two figures exiting the shop… Toa-sized figures. It took me a moment to realize who they were; there were only thee Toa besides us in town that I knew of, and one was probably lying on an operating table. That left only two: Nuparu, unless he’d already left, and… Kopaka.

“See something?” Jahlpu asked, then turned to look where my eyes were already pointed. By that point, however, the two Toa had already turned and headed into the tunnel, disappearing from view.

“Eh… I thought so,” I answered, unsure of whether I really wanted Jahlpu to know about it. He was curious enough as it was.

“Probably some Matoran checking on the weather, then,” Lerome dismissed. Jahlpu looked at him questioningly. “Well, it’s not like you can tell what’s up, down, or coming down from deeper in there,” the Toa of Air explained mockingly. “Only weather you get in the underground city is darkness with a chance of falling rocks. Who knows? Maybe they’ve never seen rain before.” Jahlpu took a deep breath, likely resisting the urge to make some harsh remark regarding Lerome’s own disdain for rain in return. He managed it, but that was the end of the meal as far as he was concerned. He got up and turned to me:

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure.” I replied, trying to mask the fact that I was actually rather eager to get going in hopes of catching a glimpse of where Nuparu and Kopaka were headed.

“Well, see you two later then,” Lerome mockingly feigned disappointment, earning another death glare from Jahlpu. He got up as I did, but while I followed the Toa of Earth in the direction of the tunnel Lerome opted to make a beeline back to the hotel, no doubt wanting to avoid getting utterly drenched again, not that that was in any way avoidable in rain this thick. Jahlpu kept up a quick pace, too; I had to jog to catch up to him. He slowed down somewhat when he reached the tunnel.

“He’s more petulant than ever,” the Toa of Earth complained as we started on our way down.

“No disagreement here…” I’d never really thought highly of Lerome’s behavior, sure, but boredom did really seem to make him insufferable. Not that I cared much at this point; my attention was focused ahead of us, trying to see if I could catch a glimpse of two Toa as the underground city came into view. Unfortunately, no glimpse was forthcoming, even when I paused to look around as we reached the tunnel’s staging area on the outer ring. The city was as busy as it had been last time, with many more Matoran and Agori moving about than before. “Shift change,” Jahlpu explained. “Lotta traffic around this time.”

“So, where’s your place?” I wondered.

“Second ring, north-east,” Jahlpu answered. He lead the way as we proceeded across the outer ring to the stairs leading to the one below. About ten minutes later, we arrived on the second ring from the center. This was the one on which most minecart tracks breached the surface, joining a series of elevated lines that ran most of the way around the ring and then upwards, parallel to the road we’d taken down here from the surface. Underneath this industrial network, densely spaced huts not unlike those that made up the poorer regions of New Atero (i.e. where Pohatu'd lived) played host to a sizable and at first glance largely Agori population. The ring’s central road was narrow compared to those of the others; workshops and piles of scrap metal occasionally broke up the otherwise monotonous blocks, and areas where the minecart tracks surfaced were fenced off. We got a lot of curious looks as we went along; stares from haggard-looking Agori and the occasional Matoran who no doubt found it strange to see two Toa wandering about in what certainly wasn’t that great a neighborhood. After give or take another five minutes or so, Jahlpu turned left off of the ring road and led me through some winding, narrow streets until we reached a dead end on the ring’s inner edge, where a fence kept us from going further. Looking through, I could see the innermost ring about fifty or sixty feet below; it was a steep drop-off. To my right, Jahlpu opened the front door leading into a two-story hut built right against the edge.

“Well, here it is,” he stepped aside, motioning for me to enter.

“Looks okay so far, if a bit precarious,” I noted. The hut appeared to have been made from large, hewn gray blocks, so no doubt it was solid, though definitely designed more for Agori or Matoran than a full-size Toa; I had to lean forward slightly to make it through the door, and inside my head just about touched the ceiling. Jahlpu’s larger frame would’ve caused him even more trouble were it not for the fact that he also possessed some of the hunchback posture typical of his tribe; he could walk about quite comfortably, even if the door was so narrow that he almost had to turn sideways to fit his bulky shoulder assembly through. “A bit small, isn’t it?”

“Not really made for Toa, no…” Jahlpu agreed, “but it’ll do just fine once I move some sizable furniture in, and the rent’s pretty cheap.”

“No doubt…” looking around, the place honestly reminded me a lot of where Pohatu’d spent his waning years. The only furniture present at the time was a cupboard with a small, old telescreen in one side of what clearly was the living room, plus a complete if ‘lived-in’ looking kitchen set in the attached kitchen.

“Best part’s upstairs,” Jahlpu continued, climbing up a ladder set up in the corner of the room to get to the second floor. “This way.” I followed up to what turned out to be an upstairs bedroom, no doubt the only one the house had given how small a footprint it appeared to occupy; seriously, if Lerome and Kirall’d been there with us, the living room would’ve been overcrowded. Upstairs, though, things looked better. The bed dominated the room inside, but a large opening on the side facing towards the center of the city led to what no doubt was this place’s selling point: its terrace. “Not a bad view, hm?” Jahlpu beckoned for me to follow him onto the terrace, where he’d already set up a chair for himself.

“No kidding.” Stepping through the opening, I found myself presented with a commanding view of the entire city center below and the statue of Onua rising above it.

“Imagine waking up to this,” Jahlpu smiled. “Yeah, the rest of the place isn’t much, but who cares when I’ll probably be spending most of my time at home up here?”

“Fair point,” I conceded. We watched for a bit, him sitting in that chair and me leaning up against the wall on the side of the terrace. Looking at Onua’s statue, I found myself wondering what Pohatu’s would end up looking like. Something representing one of his signature kolhii moves would’ve been my choice. “Well, looks like you’ve got it all pretty well sorted,” I concluded.

“Found my place, I think,” he agreed. “You know, you should do the same.”

“Well, I have found something promising…” I mused, but didn’t really want to elaborate too much. Also, while we'd been watching, another worry’d crept into my mind. “Actually, I do have a question.”

“Shoot,” Jahlpu invited.

“When I left the first time,” I recalled, “you know, when we were talking about it, about me not feeling all that great about what we were doing ever since the Skakdi drew back… you mentioned you felt the same. You wanted to come with me, remember?”

“I did,” he confirmed.

“Back then, the only reason that you didn’t was that you felt responsible for what Lerome and Kirall were up to,” I continued. “You wanted to watch over them. Make sure they were okay.”

“I did,” he confirmed again.

“Well…” I paused a moment to figure out how to word things, “what’s changed? I mean, our brother and sister haven’t, and they’re clearly not staying here with you…”

“I found a place where I actually feel I belong,” he interrupted. “I didn’t have that before.”

“Right, but… you used to talk a lot about that responsibility,” I remembered. “You wanted to make sure that they didn’t make fools out of themselves, out of Toa, even if that required some sacrifices on your part. What happened to that?” Jahlpu’s expression soured considerably.

“Why do you want to know?” he wondered.

“I guess… what they talked about on Pohatu’s special today, about how he kept the team together in spite of their issues, their failings…” I attempted to connect what I was worried about with what I’d seen before, with limited success. "I mean, Onua did the same thing, but they all ended up breaking apart anyways. Is our team officially headed the same direction?"

“You’re saying I gave up on them?” Jahlpu questioned. “Sounds a bit rich coming from you; you were the first to leave.”

“Fair point,” I admitted. My misgivings about him staying here and in effect breaking up the team were rather hypocritical given our history... but then again, I was a different person then, too.

“Look… regardless of all that, you’re right,” Jahlpu sighed and backed off. “Honestly, a big part of this is that I’m done picking up after them, and done with them in general.”

“Can’t blame you for that,” I agreed, though if he was only done with them now he must’ve had a ridiculously high threshold for how much he could put up with. “I guess we’ll have see where they end up on their own.” Hopefully, a better place than where the Toa I’d learned so much about over the past week had found themselves post-breakup. Still, my brothers’ particular devotion to two of those Toa didn’t give me much hope.

“I figured: let them fall and learn to pick themselves up,” Jahlpu explained. “Besides, they’re not as clueless as you’d like to believe… well, one of them isn’t.”

“Really?” that somewhat surprised me, particularly given Jahlpu’s thinly disguised feelings regarding our teammates.

“Kirall does actually have a plan,” Jahlpu explained, albeit somewhat dismissively. “I don’t like it, obviously, but turns out she’s thought this out a lot more than I believed.”

“Kirall? No way.” I’d never have listed planning among my sister’s virtues.

“No, really,” Jahlpu went on, clearly about something that profoundly agitated him. “There was this one night when she and Lerome were drunk out of their minds and for some reason they were talking about when we first became Toa. Get this: she actually campaigned for it.”

“Campaigned?” News to me.

“Yeah, she said that, from the moment she realized the Skakdi were going to be troublesome, she made every effort to cozy up to the Turaga,” Jahlpu recalled, “all in the hope of being selected to become a Toa. Even mentioned the idea to her on several occasions, apparently. According to her, until she brought up the idea of new Toa, the plan had been to bring the Toa Mahri over from the other side of the planet to deal with things. She was bragging that, in effect, we’re all Toa because of her, that there wouldn't have been any new Toa without her.”

“…and she said this while she was drunk out of her mind?” I was rather skeptical of the whole thing.

“Well, yes…” Jahlpu admitted, “but have you ever known her to make up stories? Plus, the detail in which she described what all she did to… influence events made it sound a lot more believable.” Granted, beyond her pipe dream of being the next Hahli, I'd never credited Kirall with such imagination either.

“Right, but why?” I was still struggling with the idea that our ditsy Toa of Water, of all people, had been pulling so many strings behind the scenes.

“To become a Toa,” Jahlpu answered. “I mean, she always wanted to be like Hahli, and Hahli’s a Toa, so there was her goal.”

“Hahli didn’t connive her way into it,” I said indignantly. “She’s nothing like Hahli.”

“Oh, I agree,” Jahlpu nodded, “and had I known about it before, I would’ve done whatever I could to stop it, but she doesn’t see it that way…” he sighed again, frustratedly. “Point is, whether I stay or stick with them, she’s got some kind of plan, or at least an idea of where she’s going. I’m not that worried about her getting lost, well, not any more than she already is, and there’s nothing I can do to change that.”

“Sheesh, and I thought the title of Toa was losing meaning before…” I grumbled. “I mean, she’s just using it now.”

“…and I want no part in it,” Jahlpu concluded.

“Neither would I,” I decided. The very idea of someone becoming a Toa through the means my sister had apparently employed was repulsive. “So the clueless one is Lerome.” No surprise there.

“Our glorious leader,” Jahlpu said with what for him was quite unbecoming sarcasm. “Like I said, some have to fall to learn to pick themselves up.”

“I guess… just, what if he doesn’t learn?” I wondered. Given that this was Lerome we were talking about, that was a real possibility.

“Then he’ll crash and burn,” Jahlpu sighed. “Irresponsibly. Not unlike his hero, I guess.”

“Lewa?” I mean, ‘crash and burn’ did apply there in the most literal fashion, but I knew better than to assume that was the result of irresponsibility alone.

“Exactly,” Jahlpu confirmed. “The guy that died in the most reckless, stupid, and avoidable fashion. Still worshiped as a great role model by his people, first and foremost our brother.”

“Well, there could’ve been more to it than that…” I halfheartedly tried to interject. On one hand, I wanted to correct some of Jahlpu’s assumptions, but on the other I didn’t want to throw out there what Nuparu’d felt so important to hide.

“Actually, that’s the whole problem I have with this Pohatu thing,” Jahlpu continued, now verging into the territory of a rant. “Yeah, he was a great Toa in his time, probably better than most, but look what he did to himself.” Oh, he didn’t know the half of it… actually, what did he know?

“What do you mean?” I asked him.

“After the reformation, right?” Jahlpu set the scene. “He’s helped to put this world back together, he’s a great hero, then reinvents himself as a kolhii player. Makes himself a new model for the Po-Matoran. And then he quits. Toa don’t quit.”

“Well, he got hurt,” I pointed out.

“Not important,” Jahlpu dismissed. “Toa don’t quit. Quitting is giving up on our duty to the Matoran, to other Toa, to this world.” The moment that he brought duty into the conversation, his attitude started to rather uncomfortably echo what Kopaka’d given me before.

“The injury was severe, though,” I tried to argue, but Jahlpu wasn’t having it.

“Yeah, he couldn’t play kolhii anymore, but that shouldn’t have been the end for him,” he countered. “I mean, what kind of example does it set? Push yourself to breaking point, then quit?”

“Could be worse.” I mean, at least they wouldn’t get to know of the ensuing alcohol-fueled descent into what remained only days ago… again, things I couldn’t on good conscience tell Jahlpu about.

“Could be, yes,” the Toa of Earth admitted. “But it’s emblematic of a problem: whenever this whole multi-part special thing gets to the end of Pohatu’s kolhii career, I bet they’ll just gloss over the aftermath. They’ll spin some story about how he lived out his days in peace, and I’m sure he did, and that was it. No one’s going to point out that for what by now is most of the time since the reformation, he might as well have been dead as far as his duty’s concerned. Is it a minor thing by comparison to what he did? Yes. But in the same way, those folks we met in Le-Koro-Nuva completely ignore the fact that Lewa’s recklessness needlessly cost him his life, and at the rate things are going our brother’s set to follow the same path. Venerate them all we want, we’re robbing ourselves of the opportunity to learn from our heroes’ past failures the moment we bury them. Pohatu didn’t know his limits, or I guess he ignored them in a blind pursuit for whatever he wanted to be. Same goes for Lewa, and the farce that Tahu’s involved with these days.” I would’ve added Kopaka’s unwillingness to acknowledge his limits with respect to surviving in the mountains to that list.

“So, you do still care…” I realized.

“Yes, I do, and I’m worried,” Jahlpu added. “But I can’t turn Lerome off of this idea of his that Lewa is someone to be unquestioningly imitated, even though I know it could kill him and in the meantime won’t provide the clueless fool with much to go on for building a life for himself.”

“Isn’t… isn’t your devotion to Onua the same way, though?” I pointed out what, to me, was fast becoming the kikanalo in the room.

“Name me one thing that Onua did wrong,” Jahlpu challenged. It was a challenge I was more than capable of meeting, except… I couldn’t say what I wanted to say. “He did everything he could with duty and the Matoran in mind,” Jahlpu continued as I faltered, “and though his death was unfortunate, it wasn’t like it was untimely, was it? I mean, working in the mines takes its toll on everyone, so yeah, unfortunately Onua didn’t get to be around as long as he could’ve if he’d done something else, but would he have provided as much for the Matoran as he did if he’d done anything else? I don’t think so. Onua embodied duty all the way through, which is what sets him apart from the others.” In retrospect, from his viewpoint I guess the rant was quite justified… but from mine, it was staggeringly hypocritical. Onua’s death was anything but inevitable by the time it came, and his incredible devotion to duty had been exactly what had led him there… suddenly, Lerome wasn’t the one I was worried about anymore, and I’d heard more than enough. I wasn’t going to show Jahlpu then and there just what exactly the lesson that could be learned from Onua was, but I wasn’t going to stick around for much longer either; sooner or later I knew I’d let slip something if I kept listening to the argument Jahlpu was making. After all, it was almost the exact same one that I'd made to Nuparu only two days before, even if my brother lacked some of the knowledge behind it.

“You know, talking about history like this, you sound more than ever like an archivist,” I pointed out, trying to change the subject to something I could close on. Archivist had been Jahlpu’s old job, and one that he’d never hesitated to point out hadn’t been his favorite.

“You know, maybe I do,” Jahlpu gave a slight chuckle as the tension seemed to diffuse somewhat. “I guess trying to draw lessons from history is kind of my thing…” no kidding. He’d studied extensively what it meant to be a Toa upon his selection to become one, trying to use history to prepare himself for what was ahead. Again… in light of this and with what he knew, what he’d said was more than justifiable. It definitely raised some serious questions on the notion of ‘making legends’ as a justification for Kopaka’s actions concerning both himself and Pohatu, ones that I’d definitely have to pose to the Toa Nuva of Ice when we met up again.

“And maybe they’ll address it,” I shrugged.

“Maybe, but I’m not holding out hope,” Jahlpu conceded. A short, awkward silence followed.

“I should be going,” I eventually got up. “Got a few things to check on, but I’ll be back tomorrow, probably.”

“Probably?” my brother questioned. “You know, you really have to tell me what you’re up to at some point… I do worry.”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” I confirmed. “don’t worry, I’ll be fine… and I’m sure I’ll be able to tell you at some point. Just… now.” In reality, I’d have to tell him a lot more, but there was the matter of Kopaka to settle first.

“I hope so.” Jahlpu got up, then motioned for me to follow him downstairs. Soon, we were standing outside and he was locking the door again. He explained that he was planning to find and bring back some furniture to officially move in after the memorial service in New Atero. That said, there was nothing that was stopping him from looking around for stuff now, which was his plan for the rest of the afternoon. I considered coming along, but decided against it in favor of wandering about on my own in vain hope of stumbling into Kopaka and Nuparu, or whoever else he was with. So, after a ‘goodbye for now,’ we went our separate ways into the city… but he’d still left me with much to think about.

Edited by Scorpion_Strike
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  • 3 weeks later...

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Chapter 52

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I didn’t find Kopaka or Nuparu, of course. I probably wouldn’t have even if I’d had a week to do nothing but look for them, especially given that Kopaka wasn’t keen on me accompanying him on this particular errand. At least this time I felt a lot more confident that he’d be back than when he’d left me to watch over Pohatu. Having made my way back to the main road connecting all of the rings of the city, I spent pretty well over an hour wandering about parts of the upper rings adjacent to it all looking for him all the same, and I got a good idea of what daily life in the city was like. By two in the afternoon, however, I found myself back at the exit leading to the surface and feeling like I’d seen enough of the place. With little better to do, I decided to head back to the hotel and bide the remaining three hours there. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and activity had picked up somewhat, though obviously not to the level of below. Arriving in the hotel lobby, I wasn’t much surprised to find Lerome sprawled over one of the couches, watching what looked like Kolhii pre-game discussion.

“They haven’t started yet?” I took a seat across from the Toa of Air.

“Nope.” His answer was accompanied by a hand gesture that he apparently gave up on halfway through. “Just still talking about what might happen.”

“Got any predictions?”

“Not really,” he sighed. “We’ll see.”

“Aw, not even a hint?” I tried to tease something out of him, more a reflection of my own boredom than any real interest. Normally, asking for predictions regarding these games was a surefire way to send Lerome into an excited and lengthy monologue comparing all manner of qualities of both teams, culminating eventually at a seemingly bullet-proof prediction. It often wouldn’t be, of course… but still, apathy was the last thing that I expected from him on anything Kolhii-related.

“Nope.” He dismissed any further analysis.

“Okay then.” I gave in, and we watched for a while as a couple of Matoran hosts unpacked the past strategies and performances of both Hewkii’s team and their opponents. At one point, one of them screwed up in a way that even I, someone who followed the Kolhii scene only in a very casual manner at the best of times, recognized, but even this normally inexcusable gaff didn’t get so much as a chuckle or snide comment from my brother. If anything, his unusually listless demeanor was making me wonder just how bored he’d been for the past few days. “Tired?” I asked him.

“Tired of this place,” he answered without looking over.

“Won’t be much longer,” I reminded him. “You’ll be among more festive company soon enough. Well, after the funeral.”

“True…” he acknowledged half-heartedly. We turned our attention to the telescreen again just as they switched to a pre-game interview with Hewkii, who made sure to remind everyone in whose memory the game was being played: Pohatu.

“Today, we’ll dedicate this game to the memory of that Toa who pushed to bring out the best in all of us…” Hewkii began his inspiring address. Again, Lerome seemed little moved even though one of his heroes was on screen.

“You ever watch him play?” I asked. For all I’d heard about it, I’d never actually seen Pohatu play kolhii; his retirement had come before I’d even been built, and I wasn’t sure whether or not the same held for Lerome.

“Hewkii?” my brother questioned.

“No, Pohatu,” I corrected him.

“Ehm… once,” he remembered. “Like, one of the first games I went to.”

“What was it like?” I wondered out loud.

“Pretty good, I guess,” he shrugged. “He did have some impressive moves. Too bad they broke him.”

“Do you think he should’ve left?” I surprised myself by asking, but hey, I had time to kill.

“Like, his retirement?” My brother paused for a moment; I nodded in confirmation. “I guess he could’ve stayed, but I wouldn’t have, you know?”

“Why not?”

“What else could he do?” Again, a half-hearted hand gesture hinted at Lerome’s frustration.

“Coaching,” I pointed out.

“Wouldn’t feel the same,” he argued. “Not after being the star. Nothing’s like being the star.” I’d seen something of Kopaka and Onua’s attitudes reflected in Jahlpu now that the latter was settling down, and had found it less than comforting. With this statement, Lerome basically nailed his Toa Nuva hero’s suicide note in his own words.

“Having spent my life at the summit, I can’t be happy anywhere else…” I recalled the way Lewa’d put it. Unfortunately, I did so out loud, much to my consternation.

“Yeah, that,” Lerome nodded. “Without the use of his legs, what was he gonna do that compared to that, right?”

“Sure, yeah, I can see that,” I hastily reasserted myself. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have worried so much; no way Lerome could put together that what I’d said were actually Lewa’s words.

“After a life at the summit, there’s no way down…” he gloomily trailed off, turning his attention to the telescreen again. I did the same, but as so often lately a worrying thought crept into my mind: why did that phrase seem to resonate so much with him now? True, my brother had a reputation for being a bit annoying at times, but more due to his irresponsibility than the petulance that had been evidently on display today. Was there more than boredom behind it? With Lerome, I figured the best way to find out was to be more direct about it; nuance and metaphors weren’t really his thing.

“Do you feel that way sometimes?” I asked him.

“Hm?”

“Like we’ve been at the summit, and now there’s no way to go but down,” I explained. He took a moment to think.

“I guess,” he shrugged. “I mean, we’ve done the Toa things, and now there’s none of that left to do, so yeah, it does kinda feel that way: like there’s no place you’d really like to go.”

“We’ll all find something,” I began before realizing that, so far as I knew, Lerome was the only one of us who had yet to do so, making it very much a case of ‘easy for you to say.’

“Maybe, but what?” he asked. “Yeah, Jahlpu’s all happy here, and Kirall’s doing… whatever she’s doing, but they had plans already, you know?”

“Didn’t you? This whole ‘tour the planet’ thing was your idea, wasn’t it?” I recalled. Of course it’d been his plan: only he would’ve come up with it. “Last I checked, you still had plenty of planet to cover.”

“Yeah, but… it’s over now,” Lerome admitted. “I mean, it was meant to be a tour as a team, like a bonding road trip, you know? We all barely knew each other by the time the Skakdi were done, so I thought: hey, let’s have some fun and see the world while we’re at it.” Honestly, even that thought was more than I normally credited him with concerning how he came up with that tour plan in the first place, but at the same time, calling it a bonding trip for a still fledgling team was probably the most positive spin one could put on his activities for the last month or so. “So we did it for a while, had some great times, then you left and we’re all like ‘okay, fine’ and moved on to Le-Koro-Nuva and had more great times… but it wasn’t the same, you know? We didn’t have the whole team anymore.” He looked my way as though he believed I had some kind of explanation.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t like I was all that into it by that point,” I reminded him. “I mean, eventually the parties get to be too much, and I wanted to find… something. Something else to do, something that made me feel better about myself. Something Toa-worthy.”

“And did you?” he sat up.

“Yeah… yeah, I think I did.” I mean, given that as Toa we were practically walking reminders of history anyways, I figured recovering and preserving history wasn’t a bad idea.

“What is it?” he asked with some revitalized interest.

“Oh it’s… uhm,” I tried to piece together a way to describe it without bringing in the fact that I’d be doing it with other Toa, some of whom Lerome’d practically be dying to meet. “It’s an expedition someone’s planning. Recovering artifacts and such.”

“Really?” Apparently the word “expedition” triggered his interest as much as the mentioning of the name of any of his heroes probably would’ve done. “Where at?”

“Oh, it’s not exactly your kind of thing,” I dismissed. “Underwater.”

“Underwater? Ugh…” Lerome feigned a shudder. “Didn’t pick you for the swimming type, sis.”

“I’ll probably get a Kaukau,” I explained. “That’s solve the major problem, at least.”

“Yeah, that’d work…” my brother’s attention drifted off again for a moment.

“So the tour’s over?” I asked, already knowing the answer but seeking to keep the conversation going all the same.

“Yeah…” he admitted. “I mean, let’s be honest: I can’t afford it on my own anyways, and now that everyone’s gone off and done their own thing there’s not fun in it anymore. The Super Epic Toa Team is dead.”

“We should’ve come up with a better name,” I remarked.

“We shouldn’t have been needlessly made Toa,” Lerome corrected, suddenly with a bitter tone in his voice.

“What, you don’t like it?” Tahat was news to me.

“It was fun for a while, but now it seems so… pointless, you know?” he continued. “In the end, all we’ve gotten is more pressure to do something… what’d you call it?”

“Toa-worthy?” I attempted to fill the gap, still kind of marveling at Lerome showing much more of a conscience than I thought he had.

“Yeah, that.” He leant back in his seat. “We can’t be Matoran anymore. We’re not Matoran anymore. We’re supposed to defend the Matoran, and if the Matoran don’t need defending we… well, what do we do?”

“We try to be something better to the Matoran,” I concluded before making what at this point had to be a colossal understatement. “I mean, I’ve thought about this a lot…” I paused for a second to think about it some more, “and the best conclusion I can draw is that if the Matoran don’t need warriors, we’ll be leaders. Examples. People they look up to, ‘cause, you know, that’s what they do when there’s Toa around.”

“Literally,” Lerome smirked.

“Yeah…” I felt his flippant remark rather undercut the point I was trying to make, but went on: “take Jahlpu: he’s not doing anything that’ll protect the Matoran, but he’s going to lead the way down there in the mines, and you know he’s going to work hard at it. In doing so, he’ll inspire many Onu-Matoran to do the same, ‘cause they want to be like the Toa of Earth, and that’s worth something. Worth quite a lot, I’d say.” Of course, I left out how that’d worked out for the last Toa of Earth who’d made the mine itself his life’s work, but that was a point to be made to Jahlpu, not here.

“They already have someone to look up to, though,” my brother argued, “again, quite literally.” He mimed the position of the massive statue of Onua’s arms.

“True, but Onua’s not around anymore,” I pointed out, “and maybe they could use a fresh reminder, and one who many of the younger ones relate to more.”

“Onua 2.0 for a new generation,” Lerome smirked again.

“By the same token you could be the Lewa of this generation,” I suggested, momentarily ignoring how that’d worked out for Lewa.

“Be head party animal of Le-Koro Nuva?” Lerome asked incredulously. “I know you ain’t been there, sis, but let me tell you: those guys already know how to throw a party.” Yeah, he probably had a point there, and one that for the moment I really didn’t have that much a reply to. He sighed again, his spirit returning to earth. “Anyways… even Lewa was more about the adventure, and he didn’t leave much for anyone else, you know? Besides, he knew how to survive out there, and I… well, I don’t. And before all that he saved a universe; how could I live up to that?”

“He helped save a universe,” I corrected, “and with that comparison you’re blaming yourself for not existing in a universe in need of saving. I’m glad that we don’t. You’re looking way too far.” Even he should’ve seen that.

“Too far?” he questioned, sounding a bit frustrated. “Okay, try this for closer: he got along with people, and led exploration teams that went out for years at a time. I couldn’t even keep four Toa together for more than a month.” He momentarily widened his eyes and opened his hands for emphasis; it took a moment for what he said to sink in for me, but once it did, I suddenly understood where he was coming from, what all his behavior added up to. This wasn’t Lewa I was looking at, no, I was seeing hints of Gali, hints in how much more significant the breakup of his Toa team was to him than to the other members, myself included. When the Toa Nuva broke up, Gali couldn’t move on like the other Toa did, not after everything she’d done to keep the team together… and while our team had existed for only weeks in its entirety, in his way Lerome had tried to fill a similar role while being the de facto leader to boot. Now that the team had disbanded, he more than any of us was left feeling empty and unsure of who or where to turn to, or worse blamed himself for the breakup of the team, even if he wasn’t that great at articulating it. In Gali, that empty feeling manifested as depression; in Lerome, it manifested in mood swings and general juvenile behavior to mask the insecurities underneath. Generations apart we may have been, but the more I thought about it, the more the problems we were encountering were the exact same ones the Toa Nuva had struggled with thousands of years ago, when they went their separate ways. Having made that connection, I suddenly realized what to tell him.

“No one could’ve kept us together for long,” I began, remembering what Kopaka’d told Gali the night before. “After the Skakdi, there was no reason for the Super Epic Toa Team to exist, and even Lewa or Pohatu couldn’t have done anything to stop that if they were here; if they had been able to, don’t you think they would’ve stopped the Toa Nuva from breaking up first?”

“Uhm, yeah, I guess…” Lerome voiced his thought process in all its uncertainty.

“For that matter, it’s not like Hewkii and the Toa Mahri are all together all the time either,” I continued, gesturing at the Toa Mahri of stone on the telescreen. “They split apart because, without the need to defend the Matoran to unite them, they all had different paths to take. That’s what’s happening to us now: we have different paths to take.”

“Their paths led them to broken backs and death by volcano and tunnel collapse,” Lerome pointed out grimly.

“Yeah, some of them did, but that’s where we can learn from them and not make the same mistakes,” I argued. “And yes, it might be a while before you feel as great about things as when we were all doing the planet party tour, but if a former assistant weaver can find something meaningful to do as a Toa, then I’m sure you can.”

“Yeah, if you put it like that it sounds easy,” he agreed without much enthusiasm, “but I won’t have you or Jahlpu around to constantly dispense wisdom for me along the way.”

“Give it time,” I advised. “Also, just because our paths are different now doesn’t mean they can’t cross every once in a while.” For a moment, there was no reply beyond a shrug.

“You do have a way with words,” he eventually gave in; a slight smile reappeared on his face.

“Yeah, I’m proud of that one,” I admitted, juxtaposing the pride in words with indifferent hand gestures. The cloud hanging over us was clearing… well, the mood anyways, as a sudden crack of thunder outside reminded us that real clouds still very much dominated the sky outside, now once again pouring heavy rain as they had earlier in the morning. Spirits lifted, we watched as the kolhii match finally got underway. It started off slow, but it wasn’t long before some of the moves that Pohatu’d made famous started to show on Hewkii’s team, though not enough to get them a decisive point lead over the course of the first half hour. Only after the half-time break did the pace of the game reach the frenetic point that really made it entertaining to watch, if only for the challenge of tracking the ball while it traversed the entire length of the field multiple times per minute through heavy offensive play on both sides. My eyes frequently diverted to the clock, however, and it was right about three-quarters through the match when it was about to strike five.

“Looks like I gotta go,” I explained as I got up.

“Aw, you’re not gonna stay for the ending?” Lerome questioned with somewhat sarcastic disappointment.

“I’ll be back, definitely before the funeral,” I assured him, “but I’ve got to take care of something first.”

“Alright, but don’t drown out there,” Lerome quipped. Outside, the rain was coming down harder than ever before; I paused for a moment on the porch to look up and down the street, but initially I spotted no signs of life. Only when I looked closer did I see a figure standing motionlessly by the entrance of the railway station through the veil of water. Knowing there was no real cover from the heavens between where I was and the train that was undoubtedly waiting somewhere in the gray space beyond what the rain allowed me to see, I resigned myself to getting drenched either way and headed for the station. The figure was indeed Kopaka, cloaked and still equipped with the stick he was using as a cane, standing there as though to prove that rain made no difference to him, an act of defiance against the obvious that in retrospect was but the most harmless example of such behavior on his part.

“Careful, you’ll rust,” I pointed out once I reached the station in an attempt to make light of the miserable weather. He turned and headed for the ticket booth without comment, and I followed right behind. The Agori manning it made some quip about the rain as well before asking where we’d like tickets to, only to be presented with what remained of the tickets to Ko-Koro-Nuva that Kopaka’d gotten several days before in New Atero; we’d never taken the second leg of the trip, and having confirmed that we were still eligible to board the Agori sent us on our way towards the train. It was virtually empty, to the point where Kopaka only seemed to bother with moving all the way to its last car as a matter of habit or principle than for any practical reason. Completing the stubborn behavioral pattern was the fact that he made no attempt to dry himself off whatsoever once we finally sat down, though in fairness he’d have been a pretty terrible Toa of Ice if he’d found being cold and occasionally wet to be worth complaining about. All the same, I felt compelled to ask:

“Cold?”

“No,” he curtly replied.

“Ah… is this where I get to see whatever plan you’ve come up with?” I got down to business.

“No.” Apparently, it was not the time for business, but at some point within the next six hours, it had to be; that was how long we had before reaching Ko-Koro-Nuva… and therefore, how long I had to think of the best way to argue against him going any further.

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  • 2 weeks later...

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Chapter 53

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Had this been the day before, or even earlier on the day it was, I would’ve probably been content just to let Kopaka retreat into his practiced isolation again and to let him reveal his plan in due time. However, ‘due time’ was running out fast; with only a few hours left to work with, I had to figure how to present my case as to why he shouldn’t leave in a way that wouldn’t lead to him just shutting it down immediately, as was his automatic response. Past experience left me under no illusions that it would be easy, but on the other hand, if anyone had a shot at accomplishing this, it had to be me. After all, given that he’d waited for me before it was clear that Kopaka intended to involve me in this plan of his somehow, and that fact alone proved that he trusted me more than he did most. Also, he’d already taken my opinion into account and actually changed his plan because of it once… so I had to figure out a way to take the shot. Hey, maybe he’d even figured out a way to not have to leave but still satisfy that need for solitude of his. Of course, going in directly wouldn’t work, because in his current mood he’d just say “stop” and that would be it. True, I could circumvent that too, but I preferred to leave the psionic toolbox closed for now. That left figuring out a roundabout way to get into the Toa of Ice’s head as my only real option, which meant… getting him to talk about something else. True, he wasn’t prone to giving out more than he meant to in conversation, but there was a chance that maybe he’d say something that hinted at his plan if I asked the right questions, and it was a chance I decided to take. Besides, it wasn’t like the events of the day hadn’t already given me some topics to bring up.

“So, I visited with my teammates for a while,” I began, “and it looks like our team’s breaking up.” I waited a moment for a response; Kopaka glanced up, but didn’t say anything. No comment yet, apparently, so I pushed on. “I guess I should’ve known that it was going to happen sooner or later, but I never figured it’d be so sudden… it’s like Jahlpu pretty much decided to jump the ship the moment he got to Onu-Koro-Nuva, and Kirall was apparently doing her own thing all along; never would’ve thought she had a plan going through all this.” Again I paused to give him a chance to comment. It was a chance that he did not take, though I definitely had his attention to at least some degree. “Well, I learned something about all of them, to be honest.” I leant back, trying on purpose to appear to be rambling more absent-mindedly than I really was. “Just… the way we all responded to the team breaking up, like you all did. I think it says a lot about us. Like me; I figured I would’ve felt more, but then it’s not like I was really a part of the team anymore anyways. Maybe I didn’t really want to be. Also, Jahlpu actually was pretty happy about finally getting a chance to leave.”

“Unsurprising,” Kopaka commented dryly. Right, we were going with Jahlpu for a bit.

“Yeah, he’s going to work in the mines,” I elaborated. “He’s really trying to be like his hero, like Onua; devotion to duty and all. Honestly, I’m actually kind of worried that he’ll… well, you know.” Kopaka didn’t respond, but I had to keep this going. “We actually talked for a while about the whole heroes thing, though,” I recalled. “Specifically, how we remember them: making them legends. It’s weird, ‘cause he doesn’t know anything about what really happened at the end with Onua, or Lewa for that matter, but when we were talking about the specials they’re doing for Pohatu he went on this whole spiel about how we shouldn’t just remember what made him a hero. He said that we should remember the mistakes too, so we can learn from them.”

“Your brother was an archivist at one point, was he not?” Kopaka questioned.

“Yes, he was,” I acknowledged, wondering for a moment where exactly he’d gotten that information from, “so… I guess it’s not that surprising that he’d raise that point. It’s just… it was hard to listen to him, with him trying to be like the new Onua and all, because it sounds so hypocritical in a way. He’s talking about remembering and learning from the mistakes of those gone before us, and yet it he knows his own hero as nothing but that paragon of virtue that everyone’s elevated him to. And it’s not like Onua didn’t deserve that, and of course Jahlpu doesn’t know just how odd it sounds for him to talk about remembering people like that, but still… for a bit there, I really wanted to tell him that his hero wasn’t exactly flawless in the end either, you know?” Kopaka gave no indication of knowing, yet I didn’t doubt that he did. “I guess… I’d like to know what you think about it.” I decided to put the ball in his court, hoping that he’d bite. He did.

“We have had this conversation before,” he pointed out, “and we came to a conclusion, did we not?”

“We did,” I recalled. “You told me to stick with what Nuparu was doing; not letting the story get out.”

“My position has not changed,” he said flatly.

“Okay, but we didn’t have a real example back then, did we?” I argued. “No one who really took after Onua’s legacy in this way, no one was actually running the risk of eventually working themselves to death like he did while thinking of it as a virtue.”

“Nothing has changed,” Kopaka replied with conviction.

“Nothing at all?” his outright dismissal of Jahlpu as an example kind of surprised me. Then again, was I trying to push that example a little further than my brother’s situation really warranted? “Yeah, I guess I could be overthinking the danger somewhat, but that doesn’t mean that absolutely nothing’s changed,” I decided.

“It does,” Kopaka maintained. “When we last spoke of this we were talking purely about the costs and benefits as they applied to the Matoran. Your brother is not a Matoran.”

“No, but that shouldn’t make that big a difference when they’re all taking after Onua so much, should it?” The difference didn’t immediately hit home to me.

“Even the most delusional Matoran cannot fool themselves into thinking that they can match what Onua did,” Kopaka explained in a lightly agitated monotone. “The best they can do is to try to live up to the virtues he represented, which is as it should be. Your brother, on the other hand, is a Toa. To him and to others, the notion that he can live up to Onua’s legacy is not an impossible one. His enthusiasm for Onua is no more or less than that of any Onu-Matoran; the only difference lies in the fact that he can reach for my brother’s star, while they can only admire it from afar. However, it is unlikely that he will be so blinded by its light that he cannot see the danger of pushing himself too far, and Nuparu is still making every effort to ensure that the mechanism by which Onua met his end is no longer available for others to abuse. Yes, you are overthinking the danger. Nothing has changed.” So, with what in person amounted to a borderline rant, he’d shut it down; he had a point, he’d made it, and to be honest my concern with Jahlpu probably hadn’t really been an objective one to begin with. Still, I didn’t think that that rendered said concern as invalid as Kopaka apparently considered it to be.

“I suppose it’s easier to be worried when someone you know’s involved,” I admitted, “but still, I’d feel a lot better if Jahlpu had some kind of warning… just, anything to tell him not to let that quest for duty consume him. Actually, I’ll probably bring it up to Nuparu at some point.” That sounded like a much better plan. Of course, it also meant that I’d just accidentally closed off the topic in pretty much exactly the way that Kopaka probably wanted me to, and he definitely hadn’t given me anything related to what I was actually looking for. So, I’d have to change the subject slightly and try again: “By the way, there was something off with Lerome as well. He’s… he’s behaving a bit differently.”

“Not as excitable, I take it,” Kopaka correctly if half-heartedly asserted. He clearly wasn’t all that enthusiastic about the plan of chatting about what my teammates were up to, but he hadn’t shut it down yet either. I started thinking that maybe a bit of frustration would lead him to reveal something by accident. In fact, given what choice words he’d said about Lerome in the past, the antics of the Toa of Air would probably drive his mood downwards more quickly than talking about Jahlpu’d done.

“Yeah, more like lost,” I noted. “Now that the team’s broken up and all, he’s not sure where to go, and given that he was the leader I think he feels like he’s responsible for it.”

“Is he not?” Kopaka questioned with a tone that indicated quite clearly that he believed he was.

“In a way, maybe, but it’s not like it was his intended outcome, you know?” It wasn’t often that I actually found myself defending Lerome’s intentions, and even here I wasn’t fully committed to it, but if that was what it took to get something more out of Kopaka, I’d play Makuta’s advocate all day. Okay, maybe not so much Makuta after earlier, but still.

“Gali’s intent was not to drive the Toa Nuva apart,” Kopaka coldly reminded me, hitting the exact same comparison that I’d realized earlier, “and yet that is exactly what she did. The intent differed, but actions, not intent, produce consequences.”

“I know, and that’s why I’m worried,” I continued. “Lerome’s not Gali, but this breakup thing is hitting him way harder than it should. It was like he suddenly didn’t care about anything anymore.”

“I am certain that it made him more tolerable company,” Kopaka made what for him probably passed as a joke, though the delivery was as deadpan as ever and it felt more like a sign of a continuously decaying mood than any joviality on his part.

“It did, but it’s not really like him,” I continued after a moment’s pause, “and I told him basically what you told Gali, that it wasn’t his fault and all. He perked up a little, but… I don’t know, I guess he still lacks direction, you know?”

“A Toa who lacks direction, who misuses his powers, and who has little knowledge or respect of the title,” Kopaka listed off some of Lerome’s apparent issues. “Does he remind you of anyone?”

“Who?” No one came to mind at first.

“You.”

“Me?” That caught me by surprise. Yeah, I’d seen those issues in Lerome quite clearly, but I’d never really considered… myself.

“You, one week ago, when you chose to come with me,” he elaborated. “You said you had no place better to go than to follow me. You used your powers to merely satisfy curiosity and without regard for the consequences. You had heard of the virtues, yet knew not their meaning. You may not share your brother’s flamboyance, but you certainly shared his lack of direction.”

“If you put it like that, yeah…” I couldn’t really disagree, but I’d seen and learned a lot since then. “I’m not all like that anymore, though,” I argued. “I’ve got a place to go now, and I’ve barely done any mind reading since we left New Atero the first time, and then always with permission.”

“So you have,” Kopaka nodded. “However, you have seen much that your brother has not.”

“So, I should show him what I saw, then,” I concluded. “If I don’t want him to be as lost anymore, I guess… Show him what a Toa can do in a world that doesn’t need any.”

“Perhaps you should consider that,” Kopaka added, clearly intent on having that be the end of the conversation for the time being, but I couldn’t quite let that happen yet, not when he’d shut down this avenue of approach even faster than he had the last.

“I guess that’d mean taking him to meet Hewkii,” I interpreted. “I mean, he idolizes the guy, and Hewkii’s at least found a place for himself now, so he could probably advise Lerome better on how to do the same.” Again, Kopaka gave a nod in the affirmative, and again he was content to leave it at that. “And no doubt he’d be excited about it, too… probably more than I’d like to handle.” I trailed off as I tried to think of other things I’d seen over the journey that would be particularly useful in giving Lerome some direction to go. It took a while before I got back to what I’d been trying to do in the first place; getting something out of Kopaka regarding his future plans. Unfortunately, this time I couldn’t think of a great way to get back on track or proceed further. I didn’t see much point in bringing up Kirall, since my opinion of her definitely hadn’t improved, and Kopaka’d already answered the two main concerns I had to work with so readily that I could’ve sworn he had the answers prepared beforehand. While I’d started the conversation with the intent of eventually turning it towards the question of him leaving, hoping that the indirect approach would increase the chances of him actually providing an answer on it or at least something related to it, he’d instead maneuvered through it in such a way as to answer the questions he was willing to without providing any apparent springboard into ones that he didn’t. I’d tried to play him, but had gotten played as much in return…

Actually, given his usual disregard for how others felt and how little he’d seen of or cared for Lerome, I thought it kind of strange that Kopaka’d so quickly and accurately managed to paint a picture of just what lay beneath my brothers’ behavior… yet at the same time, had he not done the exact same thing to me from the moment I first approached him? I mean, even when I talked to him about things that he wasn’t present for, all too often it seemed like he had the right answer at hand the whole time, like he knew what I was going to ask long before I actually asked it. That idea, in turn, started me wondering just to what extent he’d psycho-analyzed me throughout the journey even as I’d been trying to decipher him in the exact same way, breaking my behavior down into causes and effects that he understood, even if he didn’t always approve of them. Was that… was that part of why he’d let me come along? Some kind of curiosity?

I kept thinking on that for a while, trying for the first time to really figure out just what exactly had led this most aggressively solitary of Toa to let me of all people accompany him for as long as he had, and even to answer my questions just as he had now. In particular, there was something about his reaction when I described how I’d changed my behavior from when we first met... It was slight, as everything emotional with him was on the outside when he wasn’t pushed too far, but still I was confident now that there really was something of an element of pride in there. Was he proud of me for something, or did he just feel pride about what he’d accomplished in me? I mean, maybe leading someone who he’d identified at first as lost and confused through a series of events to show them what being a Toa really meant held an element of satisfaction for him. And yes, in retrospect I’d learned a lot, though his instruction had been only part of it and often offered only grudgingly or when explicitly asked for. It was a combination of all the Toa that I’d seen, met, and what I’d discussed with them that had caused me to change my view about what it meant to be a Toa and how to be one in this world, Kopaka included… so how much did he credit himself? For that matter, how much of that was intended, especially when as all evidence indicated the return trip to New Atero hadn’t been planned beforehand at all? Suddenly, I had another topic to go off of.

“Was that the point of all this?” I spoke up. It took a moment before Kopaka looked up; it’d been a while since I’d last said anything, and he didn’t immediately reply. “For you, I mean,” I explained. “I mean, I’ve been thinking about it; when I first walked up to you, when I introduced myself and figured out who you were, did you decide then and there that while you were on this trip, you might as well… teach a lost Toa a thing or two about who they were?”

“Perhaps,” he answered unusually vaguely, another signal of his reluctance to actually do some teaching or any divulging of information at this hour.

“Perhaps? You don’t do ‘perhaps,’” I pushed on.

“The Matoran would benefit more from a Toa with some understanding of the history of her kind than they would have from one utterly lacking it,” he replied harshly. “Therefore, while I had intended to spend the journey alone, I saw fit to answer your questions in spite of your insolent behavior.”

“Insolent?” I hadn’t quite gone that far, had I?

“Well, newsflash, I can read minds,” Kopaka quoted me in response, adding a cocky edge to his voice to drive home just how brazen a declaration it was; to someone dead-set on being left alone those words and the attitude behind them had to be intensely frustrating to encounter.

“Oh right, that…” I hadn’t even thought at the time of what it sounded like.

“You were very persistent in your pursuit of answers,” Kopaka added, “and very disrespectful in your wanton use of your powers to get them.”

“I’ve learned since then, though,” I defended myself, “in part due to what you told me, like you said earlier. I don’t just do that anymore. I just… I want to know whether you saw how far this would go back then.” He waited a little while before replying, and for a moment I feared that he’d decided to shut me out again in response to a question whose answer he felt would reveal too much. No doubt the idea occurred to him, but thankfully he decided against it.

“No,” he eventually admitted. “Your curiosity was evident and infuriatingly insistent, but to your credit you did learn.” Coming from him, that had to be a high compliment, and it was a great feeling to get some credit, even approval, even if it didn’t exactly start like a glowing review of my behavior.

“Well, thanks bringing me along then, even if it took all of your patience.” I gave a slight smile in relief. In fact, I was pretty sure it'd taken all of his patience and more, considering that he had lost it several times along the way and even now he’d started with a pretty scathing comment on my behavior. It was also relief for a second thing, though: I’d spotted my opportunity, or rather I suddenly recalled something else I’d asked him earlier that presented an opportunity for a slightly more direct approach. “For all I’ve learned, though, there’s still something I’d like to know,” I continued. Kopaka gave no visual indication of approval or disapproval, so I went on: “Before we got back to Onu-Koro-Nuva, you promised me something. I asked you whether you’d at least consider not going back to the mountains, with everything that’s happened since the last time we had the argument. You said you would; did you?” If he was going to shut down the conversation anywhere, I figured it’d be here… but he didn’t.

“I did,” he admitted, giving me hope only to immediately take it away: “but that part of the plan has not changed.”

“Why not?” I pressed on.

“As I said then, I have already made my reasons clear,” he repeated the same old refrain.

“Being a legend, doing your duty, I know,” I sighed, “but there’s something more than that. That thing, that part of you that I saw as Shadow Kopaka, it is part of it. It has to be. It still just doesn’t compute…”

“Enough… enough for now,” he decided. Even the momentary mention of Shadow Kopaka was now enough to shut him down, but there also was a small yet significant delay. Had my change in tactics or persistence in bringing up the issue again and again finally begun to plant doubts in his mind? If so, now really wasn’t the time to stop, was it?

“You considered it, though,” I reminded him, “you at least considered not going back. You know, I’m not the only one that’s changed over this week…”

“Lis, I said enough!” he suddenly cut me off in a much sterner tone, now in conjunction with that piercing gaze. Earlier in the day, that would’ve lost some of its impact, but after his description of how he saw me back when we first met, its unnerving edge had returned in the guise of something like an intent look of disapproval. Either way, it left me with no illusion that I was going to get anywhere beyond planting doubts at this point.

“Okay, fine… enough for now,” I reluctantly conceded, prompting Kopaka to return his eyes to the floor and pretty much immediately retreat back into his inner space. To most, he would have appeared to be merely sleeping, but even without trying I could tell that there was much activity going on below the surface. Still, out of respect for the discussion we’d just had, I refrained from attempting to tap into whatever he was thinking about. I was content enough just to bide my time for a while, even though he had now confirmed what I’d already feared: he was still planning on going back up there. On one hand, that definitely wasn’t good from my point of view, but on the other, it was nice to finally have some certainty. Perhaps I’d been foolish in wishing for Kopaka to change his plan on his own to begin with. Still, I didn’t give up hope that I’d be able to change it for him; at the very least, he’d have to admit that there was more reason to him going back there than just the logical, duty-inspired argument that he’d made before… and if he came to the point of recognizing that, I was certain he could overcome it, too.

I busied myself with some of the old magazines distributed in bins throughout the car for what I thought would be the rest of the trip; I expected Kopaka to remain in his meditative state all the way to Ko-Koro-Nuva to avoid further unwanted questions. However, with around an hour left to go, he suddenly woke up and took a moment to get his bearings. I was about to ask him about what was up when, to my surprise, he got up and made his way forward through the car. I followed behind him, only to find that he’d only moved forward to turn on the telescreen at the front of the car. This one was actually working for a change; having turned it on, Kopaka changed the channel a couple of times before he found the one he was looking for, after which he picked out and settled down in one of the seats directly facing the screen.

“The telescreen?” I questioned, baffled as to what exactly he was intent on watching and why, on this last leg of the journey, he was watching anything at all when his preferred way to kill time had always been the meditation. The channel he’d picked was running through a commercial at the time, so what exactly was in store wasn’t quite clear yet. Kopaka didn’t even acknowledge my question, apparently confident that the answer would imminently present itself, which of course it did. After the last couple of seconds of the ad had played out, I was shocked to see the Arena Magna’s logo appear on screen, followed soon thereafter by the appearance of a Glatorian and an Agori sitting behind a desk in a room overlooking the arena itself. That was the press box. These were the commentators for a fight… and then I remembered what the big fight of the night was.

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Chapter 54

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“Tahu, the Master of Fire versus the Porcupine!” the Agori excitedly exclaimed, leaving even viewers who’d somehow missed all the promotion leading up to this night in no doubt as to what exactly they were about to witness.

“Tahu’s fight!?” I turned to Kopaka in disbelief, but again he offered no reply, no explanation, nothing… except in that his facial expression had turned about as glacial as I’d ever seen it. He clearly wasn’t watching this for its entertainment value... then why was he?

“That’s right, Durzek,” the Glatorian sharing commentator duties added to his colleague’s excited declaration. “Tonight is the fight we’ve all been waiting for, folks: the Master of Fire faces off against his toughest challenger yet. We’ve made it past the opening rounds, though as you can see, it’ll still be a moment before the Arena is clear of the remnants.” A short cut to a closer overview of the arena revealed chilling evidence of the night’s previous proceedings, including numerous pieces of scrap metal that staff Agori were still gathering up and an ominously large, deep-red stain on the ground nearby.

“That sure was one impressive beat-down on the part of Lady Soraka’s latest,” Durzek recapped. “Certainly better than her contestant’s performance last week.” He turned to his co-presenter: “tell me, Evahl, what happened to him again?”

“He won’t see the arena again,” Evahl answered in a somehow jovial tone. “We all know what happens to those who bring dishonor to Soraka’s name.” The explanation was accompanied by a downright cringe-worthy ‘guillotine’ gesture on the part of Durzek. “Exactly,” Evahl confirmed.

“Well, tonight’s main man’s head will stay on his shoulders for now,” Durzek remarked, “but the same cannot be said of his opponent. Still, it looks like we’ll be done getting the rest of him out of the way soon, and you know what that means: the crowd is getting pumped for the next one.”

“And you know, after a show like that, there’s no telling what’s in store with the main fight,” Evahl picked up seamlessly from his co-presenter. “This sure was one of a crowd-warmer, though of course we all know who’s about to really turn up the heat.” His obvious clichéd reference to the Master of Fire elicited a chuckle or two from Durzek. Terrible jokes aside, if a fight that ended in one gladiator having to be removed from the arena in pieces was merely considered a ‘crowd-warmer,’ what in the world were they expecting of Tahu and the Porcupine? I shuddered to think of it, in part of still-graphic memories from the last fight I’d seen.

“And here comes the Porcupine now!” Durzek suddenly turned his attention to one of the entrances into the battleground below as the crowd began to erupt in cheers, heralding the imminent appearance of the iron-clad Skakdi. “Of course he was the one responsible for Soraka’s humiliating defeat last week,” the Agori announcer wasted no time in reminding us, “and we all remember his finishing move against the Lady of the Frost.” ‘Finishing move’ was putting it generously. I would’ve described it more as an execution. “Brutal, brutal stuff, but that’s what he’s known for. No doubt we’ll see more of it tonight… and there he is, folks.” Distinctively clad in shining silver, heavily spiked armor, the Porcupine strutted in sporting the traditional wide-toothed grin and with his two-handed morning star slung over his shoulder, which combined with his posture conveyed a picture of arrogance that surely described his entire personality in an instant. Unfazed by the fact that there were still some clean-up workers present, he marched into the center of the arena, almost kicking one of the unfortunates aside in the process. Once there, he raised his weapon over his head, raising and lowering it several times as though he was already triumphant, and looking at the crowd’s reaction I wouldn’t have been surprised if he was. I glanced at Kopaka for a moment; his eyes were shooting daggers at the screen.

“Reveling in it as we all do,” Evahl observed proudly, “but few know how to please the crowd like the Porcupine. Put on a show: any match in there could be your last.”

“It could be,” Durzek added in a somewhat sarcastic tone, “but I got a feeling that it won’t be this one. Not for the Porcupine.”

“Maybe not, but then again, he is up against the Master of Fire,” Evahl countered, then gestured at the opposite entrance to the one from which the Porcupine had appeared: “…and it looks like he’s just arriving now.” With the Skakdi’s display over, all eyes turned to the other entrance. Moments later, a bright flash of orange-yellow light lit up the entrance tunnel, revealing for a split second the silhouette of Tahu approaching. The crowd immediately lit up again as the Toa Nuva of Fire made his appearance and proceeded to march quickly and stoically towards the center of the arena. Unlike the Porcupine, he didn’t do much to acknowledge the crowd, didn’t revel in the energy of the place the way he had only a week before. No, this time he made it abundantly clear that he meant business. Also, I noticed his right arm was still bandaged up underneath the armor. When he reached the center right across from his opponent he stopped, looked him up and down, then apparently decided to give the crowd something after all. He turned to face a section of the audience, raised and ignited his swords over his head, then brought them down quickly at his side while turning around to send heat-waves in all directions. Standing only twenty or so feet away, the Porcupine didn’t so much as move a muscle at the display.

“And there it is, the greeting,” Durzek explained for the benefit of those who weren’t familiar with Tahu’s opening routine. “Still good, maybe, but if we’re honest it’s getting just a bit stale now.”

“Yeah, it’s becoming more and more like he’s looking to save the fire for the fight,” Evahl agreed. “Still, those burning blades have heralded plenty of spectacular wins for him, including last week’s end of the Lord of the Skrall.”

“Ah yes, the furnace technique,” Durzek remembered, immediately calling up that image for me to wince at. “It works especially well against heavily armored opponents, doesn’t it?”

“That it does, and they don’t come much heavier than the Porcupine,” Evahl noted. “At the same time, that morning star is capable of devastating hits if granted a clean shot. Really, both these fighters are going to be trying to set up for that one killing blow. Beyond that, no tactics last even ten seconds into a fight.”

“I can’t wait to see that happen,” Durzek added excitedly, “and neither can thousands of fans out there. It looks like we won’t have to wait long, ‘cause our pickup crews have just cleared the field. Well, cleared it as much as possible, right? Right?” he smiled and prodded an elbow in his co-presenter’s direction as if to say “get it?”

“As much as possible,” Evahl agreed. However, even a cursory glance over the battleground indicated it was far from clean; the large armor scraps had been removed, but nothing had been done about the many smaller pieces or the disturbingly fresh stain on the ground. While the two fighters squared up against each other, I took advantage of the momentary lull in the commentary to try and figure out why in the world Kopaka was wanting to watch this. Already, it was an embodiment of everything he’d denounced about the spectacle of the arena fights, and rightfully so, but he kept watching intently all the same.

“Sorry, but why do you want to watch this?” I asked. He didn’t respond, not even with so much as a gesture or anything suggesting me to stay quiet. He wasn’t answering anything, and even if he had he would almost certainly have been cut off by the announcers.

“And they’re ready to go!” Durzek excitedly announced, only to follow it up with “…which means we’ll be back right after this!” Cut to commercial. I immediately turned back to Kopaka.

“Really, why?” I asked again. Rather than looking to me, he looked down at the ground, apparently planning on waiting out the commercials. “I mean, why aren’t you… you know, meditating or something like that,” I suggested. “Why this? You know it’s going to be awful either way.”

“It will be,” he acknowledged but went no further.

“Then why?” I kept pressing on. “Do you want to see Tahu die or see him kill someone else? Wasn’t Stronius bad enough?”

“No,” he answered curtly. “Watch, Lis. Watch what this world has become.” As he said that, his voice took on an incredibly dismal tone. If there’d been any doubt about his reluctance to watch this before, they were gone now; he found no entertainment in this whatsoever, but still felt the need to show it to me. Was he trying to draw something meaningful out of it, something to teach me?

“But I’ve already seen this,” I reminded him. “Stronius, live, in person. It’s awful, it’s a travesty; I get it. Why put yourself through this?”

“Just watch,” he repeated solemnly.

“Fine, but you know it won’t end well,” I relented. This fight… it was going to be the death of a Toa either way. The only ways to come out of this fight were in victory or in pieces; the former would only be another nail in the coffin Tahu’s title as Toa, while the latter would mean two Toa Nuva’d have to be buried next week. I waited out the rest of the break dreading the end of it and mulling over the situation, trying to come up with some better reason for why Kopaka wanted to watch this. I came up with nothing.

“Welcome back!” Durzek called out the moment he was back on air. “The gates are down, the weapons readied, and ARE YOU READY TO SEE SOME CARNAGE!?” That last question was probably directed more at the live audience, who of course went wild at the prospect of carnage. Cameras established the scene with shots from all angles within the arena, until at least they settled on the two fighters standing across from each other in ready poses. Evahl provided the countdown:

“Tahu, the Master of Fire versus the Porcupine, round 1! Begin in Three, Two, One… FIGHT!”

I expected the fighters to be upon each other in an instant, but for a second both held their positions as if expecting the other to charge. When neither did, they slowly approached each other, circling, ready to strike at any moment but not willing to expose themselves to do so. Silence ruled the commentators, too, until Durzek eventually mentioned something about them sizing each other up. He’d barely uttered the words when, apparently bored of the status quo, the Porcupine suddenly leapt forward and took the first swing. Tahu was ready, parrying the morning star by redirecting its swing with both of his blades while sidestepping out of the way. He tried to follow it up by planting a sword into the Porcupine’s side, but the Skakdi proved more cunning than that; he looked like he’d given the attack everything, but in fact even as he came down with the swing he’d already been moving to avoid the inevitable counterattack. Still, it left him in little position to retaliate quickly and moments later the fighters found themselves squaring up a few feet apart again, waiting for the other to make a move. The air was tense; even the crowd was silent in anticipation. Ever the crowd-pleaser, the Porcupine soon attempted to move in again, only to find his attack deflected just like before. The cycle repeated itself several times more; tactically, Tahu was doing the sound thing by not biting and buying time for his opponent to make a mistake, but as time passed the crowd went from awaiting the action with great anticipation to getting bored at the lack of major action, which the commentary began to reflect.

“Oh, he’s going to have to do something soon,” Evahl reminded everyone. “Everyone might be anticipating a kill, but if this fight goes the distance this tip-toeing around each other isn’t going to earn him any points at all.”

“Yeah, we’d better get some action soon,” Durzek added. The Porcupine immediately obliged with what was definitely his most committed attack yet; he pulled the morning star back over his shoulder in an instant, then quickly moved forward to bring it down on Tahu. The Master of Fire changed tact, too: rather than using his weapons to deflect the attack, he attempted to sidestep it to get a good opportunity to strike back. He was successful on both counts, as the Porcupine’s weapon found nothing but air until it hit the arena floor hard enough to crack the stone and the flame swords found their mark on the Skakdi’s right arm. It was still a glancing blow at best, since Tahu had to be careful to avoid running himself into the armor spikes of his opponent, but it was technically first blood. The commentators wasted no time in announcing it over the arena’s speakers, and the crowd immediately cheered for it; as far as they were concerned, that move just kickstarted the real fight. Having momentarily lost momentum, the Porcupine attempted to ward Tahu off with a low, backhanded swing of his morning star; it worked and Tahu was forced to quickly take a step back to avoid the weapon, allowing the Skakdi to get up and follow him while chaining multiple swings of his weapon together in a surprisingly smooth, fast, and continuous motion. Now the one off balance, Tahu was forced to take back one step after another without much opportunity to maneuver around the whirling thing, attempting to parry a few times as he did so. However, parrying didn’t get him very far against the mass of metal coming at him, continuously driving him back.

By the time the fighters had moved about halfway across the arena, Tahu’d apparently had enough as he tried to put some weight behind his swords while pushing them into the path of the morning star to break the chain. It was a mistake; the way the porcupine wielded it may have made the weapon look light, but it had built up tremendous momentum and Tahu found himself knocked completely off-balance. The porcupine used what momentum remained to swing the weapon around one more time and catch Tahu flat on the chest with an upswing, sending the master of fire hurtling backwards until he tripped and landed on the ground. Momentarily fazed and having to catch his breath, Tahu could do little to stop the earth-shattering overhead swing that was no doubt to follow; the Porcupine raised the morning star over his head, the crowd erupted, I looked away… and then a loud horn announced that the time for round one had run out. For a moment, time itself seemed to stopped entirely as both fighters froze in place, but after a moment’s hesitation the Porcupine disappointedly lowered his weapon. This wasn’t the time for a finishing blow. Tahu’d been saved by the bell... for now.

“And that’s round one, and nearly the end of the fight right there,” Durzek excitedly proclaimed.

“Indeed,” Evahl took over, “as we saw some great work by the Porcupine there with that windmill attacking style…” I stopped listening, and looked to Kopaka instead. He was still watching, though nothing in his posture or expression indicated that he was in any way invested in his brother’s fight.

“That… that was too close,” I remarked, hoping to get some commentary from the Toa of Ice in return. “One second more and that would’ve been it.” It took a moment or two before he responded.

“My brother misgauged his opponent,” he said bluntly without so much as glancing in my direction. “It has brought him close to death on multiple occasions.”

“Right… so do you think he will win?” I couldn’t help but wonder whether or not he’d done some kind of analysis of the fighters’ performance to make a prediction.

“He will not if he continues to fight as he has so far,” Kopaka answered. “He has been unusually cautious by his own standards, and it does not suit him.”

“True… most of the action came from the Porcupine. Nothing like last week’s fight.” I remembered how much more aggressive Tahu’s been against the self-proclaimed Lord of the Skrall. “Why do you think he’s doing that?” I asked.

“You are the expert on people, are you not?” Kopaka replied with a question. “What do you think?”

“Something must’ve happened…” I began to reason out loud, but I barely got that far before the ‘something’ popped into my head: “Pohatu.” Kopaka returned to looking at the screen, not giving so much as a nod to indicate yes or no, but already I was piecing things together in my head: Tahu was playing it cautious exactly because he didn’t want to make a mistake; he wanted to leave the arena alive to attend his brother’s funeral. , he’d probably be giving a speech or something there. This fight had to be really bad timing for him, especially given its high stakes…

“And we’re back!” the voice of Durzek interrupted my thinking, prompting me to return my attention to the screen, too. “Tahu, the Master of Fire versus the Porcupine, round two!” the Agori announced with frantic hand-waving motions. Evahl immediately offered some insight of his own:

“Yes, and after a first round that was relatively light on action, both fighters will be looking to take it up a notch. Remember, even that round nearly ended in a K.O. on its own, but both fighters are still in good shape. With my experience I can tell you that that won’t be the case after this round, oh no.”

“Yeah, you usually see a lot more risks being taken in the second round,” Durzek added, “especially by the side that probably lost the first.”

“…which I’d say was Tahu,” Evahl concluded. “He’s played the long game so far, but the lack of effective action from his side and that crucial mistake at the end have cost him dearly. Can he make up for that? Right now, no one can tell.”

“Well, then let’s get this thing going, shall we?” Durzek said as he turned around to face the arena and its rabid crowd. “WHO’S READY TO PAINT THIS PLACE RED!?” he questioned their readiness in a particularly tasteless manner, but boy did it get a response. Really, ‘rabid’ is the best way that I could describe the crowd, and the loud cheers and roars continued as the Agori led the them in to the countdown. “THREE! TWO! ONE! FIGHT!”

Clearly still riding high from the end of the last round, the Porcupine wasted no time in closing in on Tahu this time around. However, he was dealing with a Toa more determined this time, a Toa who once again parried his morning star out of the way as soon as it came within striking range. However, where before Tahu had played it relatively cool and slow, now his follow-up was immediate; having re-directed the Porcupine’s attack to the ground next to him, he immediately took two steps over and swung both of his weapons into the Skakdi’s back. The armoring present even there meant that the initial effect had to be minimal, but the impact did knock the Porcupine further forward, messing with his balance and giving Tahu time for the real response: he ignited his blades and sent bolts of fire off of them and into his opponent’s back. For a moment, it was quite a nice light show, but other than some scorch marks on the back of the Porcupine’s armor it still appeared to have little effect, and by now the iron-clad Skakdi has managed to turn around and was coming at Tahu again. Again, he attempted to bring the morning star down on the Toa of Fire’s head, and again the latter managed to parry it aside and into the ground where it immediately ended the useful life of another of the arena’s stone floor tiles. Tahu again made multiple strikes into the Porcupine’s back while latter recovered, his now-ignited weapons always leaving streaks of fire in their wake to make for a much better show. The pattern repeated itself two or three more times before the Porcupine appeared to realize that he was rapidly getting nowhere, though the fact that Tahu’d broken one of the spikes jutting out from his spine probably had something to do with it. When he turned around after weathering yet another series of counterattacks, he opted not to immediately launch into a charge again. Instead, he readied his morning star in a defensive posture, beckoning his opponent to come at him.

Tahu did just that; having worn the Skakdi down somewhat, he attempted to charge him by using one of his blades to parry the morning star to the side while striking with the other. It worked, and he was able to follow it up with a devastating series of sword strikes, wheeling both blades around him in a continuous motion while streaks of fire jetted off in their trails, accompanied by a cacophony of metallic clangs. Unable to muster a response in time, the Porcupine was forced to back up, then back up again and again as Tahu steadily drove him across the area in a whirlwind of metal and fire. This was the Tahu that I’d seen fighting the week before… and as the announcers feverishly attempted blow-by-blow commentary, one of them mentioned that he might be working up to a furnace, a chilling prospect as far as I was concerned. Still Tahu relentlessly pushed on; only when the Porcupine’s back was nearly against the arena wall did he at last let off, quickly taking several steps back to avoid any opportunistic swing regardless of how quick it could be. The iron-clad Skakdi had to take a moment to come to his senses anyways, and Tahu took advantage of it by powering up both his swords and then planting them into cracks between the arena floor tiles. Immediately, bright orange streaks shot down the cracks and filled the area between the stones underneath the Porcupine’s feet; he only had a moment to realize what was happening before, heralded by a slight rumbling beforehand, the ground suddenly erupted in fire and flying stone slabs below him.

“IT’S THE ERUPTION!” one of the announcers identified the move. For a second or two, the fire completely obscured the Porcupine from view, and I feared that by the time it ended, the sight that remained would be akin to that of Stronius after the furnace move. Then suddenly a bellowing roar, a battle cry overtook the sound of the eruption, and the Skakdi came charging out of the column of fire, straight for Tahu and with his morning star fully drawn back. With his swords still planted in the ground, Tahu had no time to react as the weapon swung for him, connecting with full force onto the left side of his body. The impact sent him hurtling sideways and forced him to let go of one of his blades. He just about controlled the landing and regained his bearings, but now found himself squaring off against a snarling, seething Skakdi in armor covered in soot and with smoke still rising from many areas inside. I couldn’t imagine the burns the guy had suffered, but if anything they had only pushed him into a blind rage. Immediately, he let out another roaring battle cry as he charged the now wounded Toa. Hurting badly on his left side, Tahu only just managed to avoid the blow, after which he attempted to scramble towards where his other sword was still sticking up from between two of the floor tiles. The Porcupine came at him again as he did so, swinging from behind; Tahu saw the attack coming at the last moment and dropped prone to let it sail over him, but this left the morning star to go on and hit the standing sword, sending it flying into the wall several tens of feet away. It was now completely out of reach, and the Porcupine was already raising his weapon once again to bring it down on the Toa of Fire. For a moment, the scene was almost a carbon copy of how the first round had ended, but this time, we were only halfway through…

The Porcupine brought his weapon down over his head with incredible force; Tahu just managed to roll out of the way, but the impact of the weapon against the ground broke several of the floor tiles in half and sent some smaller pieces flying in all directions. Tahu managed to get back on his feet while his opponent picked up his weapon again, and retaliated by sending more fire bolts in his general direction. They didn’t have much effect, and the Porcupine charged for him once again. Tahu was forced to leap out of the way without so much as a moment’s opportunity to mount any kind of counterattack. He quickly regained his bearings again, but now the Skakdi was on the offensive and he wasn’t going to let it go. Swing after swing, he relentlessly moved forward without leaving Tahu any opportunity to get close enough to strike back. Across the arena they went, until eventually they reached the opposite wall. Tahu literally bumped into it, apparently unaware of how quickly they’d shifted across the battleground, and now all of the sudden he had nowhere left to go. Again the Porcupine moved in, aiming to hit the same spot on which he’d gotten such a good hit before, but as it turned out Tahu had prepared for exactly that plan, and he reacted with surprising speed for someone as seriously wounded as he had to be. He leaped upwards, then pushed off of the wall to propel himself over the top of his opponent with a flip and land right behind him. Before the Porcupine could turn around, Tahu struck at him from that position with a low, back-handed swing that cut across one of the few vulnerable spots on the Skakdi’s armor: the insides of his knees. A loud “Aargh!” escaped from the Skakdi’s mouth as his left leg momentarily collapsed; Tahu took advantage by swinging for the other knee, which he just managed to nick as well. For a moment, the Skakdi was on his knees and Tahu looked about to take a third swing, this time for the neck. However, before he could get that far the horn sounded yet again. Round two had ended, and this time it was the Porcupine who owed his life to that. Both the announcers and the crowd were going wild over the action all the same.

“That… that was gruesome,” was all I managed to get out. Not that I had expected anything less, mind you, but this round had gone back and forth in such tension that I noticed my hands were shaking afterwards. Looking over to Kopaka, I noticed the expression on his face had changed: he was angry, furious even, but still just managing to keep it all bottled up while the telescreen showed Tahu retrieving his sword and both fighters receiving some hurried, rudimentary medical aid to prepare them for the final round. I didn’t dare ask any questions this time around, and for the moment I was numb to whatever the commentators were going on about… I just sat there, waited, prayed that somehow the next round wouldn’t be worse. After a few minutes that felt like much more, Tahu and the Porcupine were squared up once again, both standing with considerably less poise but both clearly burning with a hatred of the other, ready to kill them whenever the opportunity presented itself. The commentators once again led the countdown to round three.

“THREE! TWO! ONE! FIGHT!”

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Chapter 55

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The third round started off more like the first than the second; the fighters carefully approached each other with their guards up. What bandaging had been done on their wounds clearly wasn’t sufficient to stop them being a hindrance; Tahu favored moving to his left side and the Porcupine’s walk was stiff, almost clumsy, both results of the hits they’d taken in the previous rounds. Tahu’s chest plate was still severely dented, while charred burn and pot marks dotted the Porcupine’s armor and a couple of its spikes were bent or broken. However, battered as they were, both still moved with dark intent; their postures were low and aggressive, and Tahu’s blades were already pulsing red-hot as the fighters slowly circled around one another and watched hawk-like for any weakness to exploit. This state of affairs didn’t last long; pretty early on, Tahu either spotted a weakness or decided to create one, ‘cause he took a step back for and crossed his blades in front of him. They ignited in full, after which he rapidly swung them down to his sides, sending two streaks of fire in an ‘X’ pattern flying towards the Porcupine. The Skakdi simply put his weapon in the path of the attack and let it dissipate the fire for him. However, this created exactly the opportunity that Tahu’d been looking for; momentarily blinded to the Toa’s exact location by the fire and the morning star in front of him, the Skakdi didn’t realize that said Toa was following right behind and already maneuvering around him.

Tahu got in frightfully close and aimed low, striking deliberately at the back of his opponent’s legs. He didn’t quite hit the sensitive spot he was aiming for, but it had an effect all the same, forcing the Porcupine to quickly move forward and out of the way. Unfortunately, Tahu couldn’t quite move fast enough to stay behind him as he turned around, and soon found himself having to block a blind swing of the morning star which he only barely managed to do. Now the two were face-to-face again, but the Porcupine was displaying the aggression in spite of Tahu’s attempts to ward him off by hurling more fire in his direction. He moved in relentlessly, letting the flames splatter and run off his armor without any apparent effect, forcing the Toa of Fire onto the defensive, a position in which he was at a definite disadvantage. The Porcupine pushed his momentum to drive Tahu into the wall, but when they got there the Toa of Fire attempted to nail him with the same trick he’d used last round; jumping up and off of the wall to get over and behind the Skakdi. However, the latter was prepared this time: rather than attacking with a lower, horizontal swing, he went for an overhead one, putting his weapon exactly in the path that Tahu’s leap was to take. Tahu didn’t realize what was coming in time; he only managed to re-direct his leap slightly so avoid taking the hit face-first in mid-air; he caught it on his right shoulder instead. It mangled his pauldron pretty badly, but the main damage done was to his momentum, which was instantly lost, so rather than sailing over the Porcupine’s head and landing behind him, the Toa of Fire found himself landing right on the Skakdi’s spiked shoulder. Through some quick maneuvering he managed to avoid being completely impaled, but even just sliding off of the Porcupine’s spiked back clearly caused some substantial damage. The Porcupine turned around with another blind swing, which came within a hair of Tahu’s head; disaster narrowly avoided, the Toa of Fire managed to dash out of the weapon’s range before it could come around for another swing, but the initiative remained firmly in his opponent’s hands.

The Porcupine took advantage by proceeding to once again drive Tahu across the arena by coming at him like a juggernaut. Realizing that he could at least control the direction in which they were headed and that he could no longer rely in exploiting the wall to gain a tactical advantage, the Toa continuously withdrew along a path tracing a large circle through the battleground. In spite of this improvised control, the commentators still noted that he appeared at a loss for how exactly to get through his opponent’s offense, and now that opponent had the crowd on his side as well. It fast became clear that Tahu’d have to do something pretty spectacular fast to win back the fight, but he wasn’t in much of a condition to pull tricks at the moment. Then again, the same could be said of the Porcupine, whose charge at last began to lose steam. Much like Stronius’ the week before, the Iron-clad Skakdi’s energy had run out well before the timer, and to little effect; Tahu’d spent as little energy as he could to continuously get away, and was now ready to turn what he’d saved back on an exhausted opponent. The morning star slowed, hit the ground, then was drawn back up into a more defensive position, but by the time it was up Tahu’d already closed the distance and was ready to unleash another flurry of fire and steel onto its wielder.

He started by parrying the morning star to the side with a slash from one blade in preparation for a thrust with the other. The attack only glanced off of the Porcupine’s thick armoring, but produced a shower of sparks as it did, and Tahu immediately followed it by twisting around to the Skakdi’s side and bringing both swords down in parallel on his left arm. That had more effect, even if that effect was mostly just more sparks; other than the back of the legs, Tahu still had to find another solid weak spot to aim for, and aiming that low would leave him vulnerable to a low blind swing from his opponent. That opponent wasn’t going to let him get away with even this forever either; after the hit on the arm, the Porcupine quickly managed to turn around to get his most heavily armored side (his front) to his opponent, only to be rewarded with a glancing blow against his helmet whose follow-up knocked his morning star out of the way again. Recognizing the momentary disorientation that the helmet blow caused, Tahu took advantage by bringing both his blades, flames and all, down on the helmet again in a cross-chop motion. The move left him momentarily defenseless, but the Porcupine was in no condition to retaliate. Still, almost by instinct Tahu leapt back afterwards and followed the move by sending two longer streams of fire at his opponent from a safer distance. The fire’s effect was still limited, but worse was the fact that it gave the Porcupine a sorely needed second to get his bearings, which of course he did. Now more furious than ever, he was coming at Tahu full-force in spite of his exhaustion and immediately forcing the Toa to take defensive action again. The scene from a minute before repeated itself, with Tahu dodging the first swing, parrying the second, and being well out of the way before the third one came along. He looked set to wear the Porcupine down again for a while, but then one sentence from the announcers changed everything:

“And the Porcupine takes the offensive again, but can he close it with only Thirty Seconds left in the last round!?” The announcement bellowed through the arena just like all the other commentary, but unlike any of the others this line actually had a real impact on both fighters. Before, they’d always had the next round, but here it was now or never, the time for final gambits. Still on the offensive, the Porcupine answered immediately with a larger-than-usual swing that Tahu only just managed to dodge, but unlike before the Skakdi let his weapon’s momentum carry him around this time, apparently giving the Toa the opportunity to move in. Tahu took it and swung at his opponent’s back, getting a hit in on the helmet from behind, but only then did it become clear that the Porcupine was going to carry his swing around again, and thanks to his attack Tahu was now too close to dodge it outright. He tried to maneuver his blades in the way and duck to mitigate the hit as much as possible, but as it came careening around the morning star’s energy was simply too much for him to fully redirect, never mind block. He caught a major hit on the same shoulder whose pauldron had already been battered severely earlier in the round. The chunk of armor went flying off, and muscle strands over the shoulder of the already bandaged arm were torn to shreds.

Caught low with a broken shoulder and the Porcupine raising the morning star over him to make sure he never got up again, Tahu’s position was extremely precarious, but his opponent’s exhaustion was showing in how long it took him to raise his heavy weapon. The Toa of Fire took advantage by thrusting his good arm’s weapon upwards towards the newly exposed weak point that was the Porcupine’s arm pit. He nailed it, cutting deep and forcing the Skakdi to lower his weapon. The Porcupine immediately retaliated by roaring out in anger and shoving Tahu’s head in the other direction with his free hand, forcing the Toa back down onto the ground. This was what the fight had gotten down to; a hands-on brawl. With Tahu struggling for a moment to get up, the Porcupine raised his weapon again, though he now had to use both hands to do so, and brought it down on top of the Toa with all the strength he could muster. Tahu rolled to get out of the way, but one of the weapon’s spikes still clipped one of his legs, doing a fair amount of damage. Then, to my surprise, Tahu let go of his left sword entirely and reached up with a now free hand, grabbomg a hold of the staff of the morning star to prevent the Porcupine from drawing it back for the next blow. The Porcupine reacted to this by attempting to stomp on Tahu while pulling back on his weapon, but his leg injuries prevented him from aiming his foot very well and instead he ended up stepping partially over Tahu, who took advantage by stabbing upwards with what little strength he had left in his right arm and planting his sword into the back of the Skakdi’s right knee. For that knee, that blow was final; the Porcupine managed to retain his balance for the moment, but he wasn’t getting much structural support from that leg any more.

Satisfied, Tahu let go of the morning star, and while the Porcupine drew it upwards again to try and smash the Toa loitering around his feet, that Toa reached upwards with his left hand and grabbed a hold of one of the spikes jutting out from his opponent’s lower back. Just as the Skakdi brought his weapon down again, Tahu pulled hard, quickly dragging the rest of his body over the ground between the Porcupine’s legs and out of harm’s way; the only thing the morning star managed to destroy were yet another two or three floor tiles, while Tahu managed to pull himself up enough to get back on his feet behind his opponent. It took the latter a moment or two to realize where the Toa had gone, time which Tahu spent switching his right hand sword to his left and then stabbing his opponent in the back of the left knee to give him a matching set. A cry, a roar, something borne of rage and anguish bellowed out from the Porcupine, who tried to go for another blind, back-handed swing as he turned around, only to find his that his legs were failing him. With a loud thud, he fell to his knees, no doubt breaking them even more. Now there were twenty seconds left on the clock.

“…and we haven’t seen anything like this in ages!” Durzek announced in a voice frantic enough make one believe that he was about to explode with excitement. “It’s like a drag-out street brawl down there, and Tahu just outmaneuvered the Porcupine by the skin of his teeth! He’s got him on his knees and at his mercy!” Standing behind a momentarily immobile opponent, Tahu angled his sword downwards and drove it directly into the gap between the Porcupine’s torso armor and left pauldron, eliciting another thundering roar from the Skakdi.

“And there goes the left shoulder!” Evahl exclaimed. “He’s dismantling him piece by piece now!” Tahu withdrew the blade and was about to do the same thing to the Porcupine’s right shoulder when the Skakdi furiously bellowed:

“TOA COWARD! FACE ME HERE! FACE… THIS!” As he uttered that last word, he suddenly hurled all his weight into twisting himself around on his knees, bringing his morning star around in the process. It forced Tahu to abandon dismantling the shoulder, but just like before he was too close to dodge the blow outright. Instead, as his opponent wheeled around to face him in a clockwise direction, Tahu did the same, swinging down with his sword… but not at the Porcupine. No, he was swinging for the morning star, and he managed to catch his sword right on the base of the weapon’s weighted end. With a loud grunt, Tahu pushed his blade outwards as hard as he could to drive the morning star away from himself and the twisting Porcupine, and to everyone’s amazement, it worked! The weapon was wrenched out of the Skakdi’s hand, and the combination of its gathered momentum and Tahu flinging it away on his sword caused it to careen off and land thirty feet or so away with a loud crash. The roar of the crowd went from louder than usual to downright deafening.

“Can we believe this!?” Durzek must’ve been jumping up and down in his seat judging by the energy in his voice. “The Porcupine’s weapon is GONE!”

“What a maneuver!” Evahl added. The Porcupine’s momentum carried him around to face Tahu, and for the moment he just about managed to remain upright.

“FACE ME!” he spat as he began to raise his fists, the left one rather shakily. Tahu responded by bringing his sword with flames on full down on the Skakdi’s right shoulder, managing to plant it right in the armor gap present there and forcing his opponent to lower his right fist.

“And there goes the other arm,” Evahl continued to narrate. “The Porcupine has almost nothing left to work with now!”

“FACE ME!” the Porcupine exclaimed again in a blind rage, spitting foam in Tahu’s direction as his eyes began to glow a deep, bloody red. Tahu responded by taking a step back and kicking the Skakdi square in the face, forcing him onto his back, or rather onto the spikes on his back. The Skakdi let out a raging, bellowing sound that words honestly couldn’t describe as two heat vision beams shot up into the sky.

“He’s stuck! The Porcupine’s pinned on his own spikes!” Durzek helpfully identified the Skakdi’s predicament. With all his limbs seriously crippled in at least one joint, there was little he could do to push himself off of the spikes he was balanced, much like a dermis turtle turned on its back. “Ten seconds left, and he’s down for the finishing blow! Up on the chopping block!”

“Are we going to see a decapitation!?” Evahl speculated as Tahu walked around his opponent-turned-turtle to get to his head side. While he did so, a unanimous, deeply disturbing chant of the crowd began to overtake even the volume the commentators could produce:

“Finish him! Finish him! Finish Him! FINISH HIM!” I was simultaneously desperate too look away and so transfixed that I couldn’t. Having reached a position by the Porcupine’s head, Tahu ominously began to raise his sword over his head like an executioner, maintaining poise I would’ve thought impossible with the injuries he’d suffered. He stood there, eyes transfixed on his opponents’ and with his sword pointing up at the sky, about to come down on the Skakdi’s neck like a flaming guillotine, his face contorted into an expression of extreme anger and disgust. For his part, the Porcupine was still repeating the same phrase at him, now barely coherent through spit and laced with expletives. The crowd’s chant grew ever louder, but Tahu held the pose, glaring down on his opponent as if to say ‘any moment now,’ breathing furiously through his teeth. The announcers counted with the clock:

“Five! Four! Three! Two!...” Tahu remained motionless apart from visible breathing. The flames erupting from his sword flickered in the wind, and the Porcupine writhed as large red pools formed below the parts of his body that’d been severely wounded. He was still keeping up his mindless tirade while Tahu didn’t so much as utter a single word, like he was standing still in time…

BWUAAAAAAAAP! Just as the horn signaled the end of the round and the fight, Tahu brought down his blade. The crowd, the source of a deafening cacophony before the horn sounded, instantly fell silent. So did the commentators. Everyone watched to see a head roll, but no head rolled... A collective gasp could be heard from audience and commentators alike. Tahu hadn’t brought the blade down to cut through his opponent’s neck at all, though there was no doubt that had been his original intention. Instead, he’d brought the pommel of the blade down on the forehead section of the Skakdi’s helmet, producing a loud “CLANG” and instantly rendering the iron warrior unconscious but not dead. For a few seconds, while the crowd and the announcers struggled to realize what had happened, the Toa just stood there, still looking down on his opponent, still with an expression of disgust. Then, just as the murmurs in the crowd started up, he spoke up:

“In the name of my brother you live today,” he said just loudly enough for a nearby microphone to pick up, “but I will not see you in here again.” With that, he turned around to retrieve his other blade.

“Tell me you saw what I just saw,” Durzek turned to his co-presenter. “Did the Master of Fire just let that opportunity slide?”

“Yes, that he did,” Evahl confirmed in a grim tone, “and believe me, the crowd’s no happier about it than we are.” No kidding. By the time Tahu’d picked up his other blade, loud boos were emanating from the crowd, which rapidly swelled up into a full-blown roar of discontent. Tahu totally ignored them; after retrieving his second weapon, he stored them both away and proceed to march across the arena to the gate through which he’d entered in the first place. Behind him, I could see sections of the crowd beginning to move, throwing various forms of Tahu memorabilia that I’d seen on sale in New Atero into the arena to express their disgust with the fighter who they’d been rooting for only a minute before.

“This is not good, folks, not good at all,” Durzek explained over Tahu’s march and the noise of the crowd. “A fighter who can’t finish the job is bound to meet their end soon, and Tahu’s just joined that doomed club.”

“No doubt,” Evahl concurred. “Already, disappointed fans are turning on him left and right, and a fighter with no fans left is on borrowed time. Even if his next match is a spectacular victory, the world won’t soon forget this betrayal.” His words were still broadcast through the arena, and no doubt Tahu could hear them, but just like the crowd he utterly ignored them. As the Toa got close to his entrance, Matoran and Agori in the seats nearby started to pelt him with his own icons; statuettes, small models of his weapons, signs, everything, but Tahu marched on into the tunnel without so much as a glance in their direction. Limping slightly, and with his right arm motionless at his side, the wounded warrior disappeared from view, leaving a knocked-out opponent turned turtle and a riotous crowd in his wake. No, really, there were riots all through that night. At the time, even the announcers quickly decided it was best to get a move on. I, meanwhile, turned to Kopaka.

“By Mata Nui…” I struggled to find words to describe what we’d just watched. “Those people are furious at him…” Kopaka, of course, didn’t bother to reply and was managing his expressions as to give little away, but I could tell that he was shaken. No, not just surprised, taken aback, even shocked; the Toa of Ice was fundamentally shaken. When he’d told me to watch what this world had become, I don’t think even he knew what he was in for. As the commentators said a hurried goodbye and urged people to tune in for new fights the following week, he got up, turned off the telescreen, and headed back to his seat further back in the car without another word. I followed. “That was… that was awful,” I finally fit a word to my feelings, albeit an inadequate one. “He chose not to kill, and look what he’s getting for it. I mean, I wouldn’t miss the Porcupine or anything, but he chose to let his foe live… he chose mercy. He did what a Toa would’ve done, and now the world is his enemy for it.” Suddenly, Kopaka looked up at me; his expression betrayed a sense of despair, of hopelessness, but he was keeping as straight a face as he could regardless.

“Lis,” he said in a serious tone, “a real Toa would not have been in that arena to begin with.” With that, he returned his gaze to the floor and his mind to its practiced meditation. He was right, of course; Tahu’d forsaken the title of Toa long ago. He’d said so much himself when we’d dropped by his place after the last fight, but at this moment, he’d still decided to do what a Toa would’ve done by sparing his opponent. Moreover, it was an opponent he hated, if his expressions during the battle were anything to go by… so what had spurred this on? He’d said that he was sparing the Porcupine’s life ‘in the name of his brother,’ so chances were it had something to do with Pohatu’s death, but how exactly had that prompted him to make this decision in the arena? Or had something about our visit after his last fight changed his mind? I figured some insight from Kopaka would be helpful.

“Kopaka?” It took a moment before he looked up at me, signaling that I had his attention. “Why do you think he did it?” I asked.

“He said…” Kopaka began, but I pre-empted him:

“He said ‘in the name of my brother,’ I know,” I pointed out, “and that means either Pohatu or you. What do you think changed his mind?” The Toa of Ice spent a few seconds thinking that over before answering.

“What did you say to him?” he asked in return.

“When?”

“After I left Tahu’s house,” he reminded me, “you stayed for a moment before catching up. What did you tell him then?”

“Uhm. I asked him how to get to Hahli’s place, I think…” I found it difficult to recall anything meaningful at first, but then I got something. “Oh! He said some things about you, that it was good that I was with you ‘cause he figured you needed the help.” I could tell from a subtle drop in the ambient temperature that that was not the answer Kopaka was looking for, so I kept running the sequence of events through my head to come up with the missing pieces. I hit on another one: “actually, the last thing I said was that you were right about something.”

“About what?” he asked dryly.

“That there was something of the old Tahu left after all,” I remembered. “Like, the Tahu who watched over and cared for his teammates, you know?” A slight nod indicated that he did, but again he took a few moments to get his thoughts together before answering in voice.

“That may well have been it,” he spoke in uncharacteristic uncertainty, but then elaborated: “He claimed to regret killing Stronius, that it was forced on him.”

“You told him the old Tahu wouldn’t have let it get to that,” I pointed out.

“He would not have,” Kopaka confimed. “However, your last statement may have started him thinking about what he has lost. Perhaps his decision in that arena was an attempt to regain some of that.”

“Like, he was trying to be a Toa again?” I wondered.

“Nothing could make him deserving of the title again,” Kopaka coldly denounced the idea. “However, if you encouraged him by saying you believed some of the old Tahu still remained, this decision may have been his attempt to act upon that part of himself.”

“You think?” I found the idea of me planting the seed that had let to this likely disastrous decision a difficult one to swallow.

“The Toa Nuva’s best days are well behind us,” Kopaka explained grimly. “For him, the temptation of a chance to return to being the hero he used to be was likely too powerful to resist.”

“Maybe, maybe it was,” I concurred. “However, he’s not the only one in that, is he?” I mean, returning to being the hero he used to be? That was a pretty darn apt description of Kopaka going back into the mountains, right? Kopaka considered what I said for a moment and sighed, but then his expression hardened.

 

“Enough for now,” he repeated the old refrain. “It is all speculation, and we will reach Ko-Koro-Nuva soon.” With that, he dropped his gaze to the floor and retreated into his practiced isolation again; a quick glance at the clock confirmed that Ko-Koro-Nuva was at most twenty minutes away. If he was planning on telling me anything more before we got there, he would’ve done it by this point, and as far as I was concerned his shutting down of the discussion where he did it was proof enough that I was right. It wasn’t a full admission, which I certainly still wanted to get from him, but unlike when we’d rolled into Onu-Koro-Nuva after our first trip to New Atero he wasn’t feverishly arguing against anything that disputed the fabricated logic around Duty that he believed his decision to go back was based on. That decision was his version of what he was accusing Tahu of doing here: trying to go back to the past, to the time of the Island of Mata Nui, to being the hero he was back then. However, as neither that island nor the world it was located on existed anymore, the new Ko-Wahi mountains were the closest analogue, and they were just as isolating. And just like the decision Tahu’d just made, Kopaka’s choice had only negative consequences from a practical standpoint. So, while I wasn’t going to force the comparison now, it was yet another point that I could bring up when the time came. That time was going to be real soon in any case.

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Chapter 56

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And so we found ourselves back where it had all begun just over a week before: Ko-Koro-Nuva in the middle of the night. At this time it was like a ghost town, a fact that had of course figured into Kopaka's decision to delay at our last stop; if anyone was going to recognize him through his hooded cloak and still evident limp it would be a Ko-Matoran. This was also the final stop on the track; every other passenger on board disembarked upon arrival. There weren't many, but nonetheless Kopaka elected to wait until they were out of sight before we got off as well. Just like in New Atero the station in Ko-Koro-Nuva was positioned right off of the town's central square, though both were much, much smaller in footprint than those of the capital. The same couldn't be said with regards to height; six enormous knowledge towers marked the borders of the square, awe-inspiring monoliths connected with walkways on multiple levels. Positioned in the center was a fountain whose waters flowed so slowly and quietly that much of the pond was frozen solid. Coming out of the station, which was located in the base of the northernmost tower, Kopaka turned left and quickly started down the road heading north-east.

"In a hurry?" I asked while trying to keep up. He didn't answer, but with the pace he was going at it was obvious that he wasn't too comfortable on these streets. I figured it was probably the recognition thing again; best to leave any further questions for the edge of town, given that even someone overhearing Kopaka's voice might give the whole game away. We soon reached the northeastern edge of Ko-Koro-Nuva, where a small park marked what geographically was the highest point in town. It included a lower and an upper level, and watching over the town from the rocky outcrop that formed the foundation of the upper level was a statue: Kopaka's memorial. The Toa of Ice headed up the stairs leading there, then slowed down as we got closer to the statue. He stopped about five feet in front of its base to look the whole thing up and down as though he was inspecting it; since it was close to forty feet tall, that involved a lot of looking up. It had an unnatural, crystalline shimmer to it even though it was only illuminated by the dim, cold light provided by the moon and stars in the crystal-clear sky above; the entire statue was carved from one solid block of ice, a feat made possible only due to the permanently freezing temperatures at this altitude. It depicted Kopaka standing with his weapons at his side, eyes fixed over the town on the horizon beyond. On one hand the overall expression perfectly matched the stoicism that the Toa of Ice usually displayed, but there was also something profoundly regal about it, a sense that he was a lot more than just an important historical figure to the Matoran who built his memorial.

"Quite the monument," I observed. Kopaka made no comment, but he was inspecting something on the statue's base. Making my way around, I noticed it too: a plaque inscribed with his name and a poem:

In memory of our guardian:

TOA NUVA KOPAKA

Land's highest reach, where Kahu soar,
where snow lies deep forevermore,
the clouds fade and the sky is clear.
Our future is written in the stars up there,
in prophecies we once scarcely grasped.

 

As they foretold, in darkest times,
when rahi turned and took our lives,
fate brought us him, our guardian.
With sword and shield and sight beyond,
our deliverance had come.

 

When mountains crumbled over our heads,
when the ground tried to swallow us whole,
when the Great Spirit's light was choked by shadow,
he guided and protected us,
led us to home in paradise.

 

Our lives restored, new towers rose,
gazing ever further through telescopes,
searching the stars for other worlds,
for prophecies, tales yet untold,
protected by our guardian.

 

In war, a hero. In peace, a scholar. In death, a legend.

 

As we look up to future days,
he watches over us, always.

 

I finished by reading the last part out loud, then noticed that Kopaka'd abandoned his spot. For a moment I panicked at the thought of him having left already, but thankfully that wasn't the case. He'd only taken a few steps away from the statue and was facing in the other direction, standing by the railing on the park's upper level's edge and looking over what his memorial surveyed.

"Phew… I thought you'd gone there for a moment…" I voiced my relief to no response. Then I noticed something; whether intentional or not, barring the fact that he didn't have his weapons out Kopaka struck the exact same pose as the statue when he looked out over the town below, a testament to just how accurately his stance had been captured in his element. I wondered for a moment just what any Matoran in town who happened to look up at this time would've thought of the sight; the real Kopaka standing in front of his avatar in ice. For a while he didn't move, taking in the entire view as though he was savoring it, watching over the homes of the Ko-Matoran. I moved up to and took a spot next to him. "Did you do this a lot?" I wondered.

"Do what?" he asked quietly without looking over.

"Watch over them from high above like this," I elaborated. "Just… it seems like this view of the city has something about it to you." He took a moment before answering.

"I always watched over Ko-Koro from above," he reminisced, "and Ko-Metru after that."

"Keeping them safe while keeping your distance," I interpreted. "Very… Kopaka. 'guess that's why they put your statue up here." He nodded slightly, but I thought there was a bit more to it than he realized for the moment. "Kind of symbolic too, I think," I went on. "I mean, Onua and Lewa's statues are in the center of their cities, and no doubt Pohatu's will be in the center of a Po-Matoran district in New Atero, right next to the kolhii field. They made themselves the center of their tribe, spent most of their time among the Matoran while they were around, you know? Meanwhile, yours is at the highest point right outside of town, 'cause that's where you were… always out of town."

"I was down there when my presence was required," he turned and explained somewhat defensively. "When it was not, I watched over them from afar as the poem says. A legend should be in view but not in reach."

"And that legend matters so much to you, right…" I sighed. We watched the quiet city for a bit longer. It really was a majestic place; built almost exclusively from ice, all the buildings were aligned in a complex geometric pattern and glistened in the moonlight, punctuated by the obelisk spires of the knowledge towers. Built to mathematical precision and fastidiously cleaned and maintained, it looked almost otherworldly, more like an idealized vision of a Ko-Matoran settlement than anything real, a fairy-tale town surrounded on all sides by knee-deep snow and the most hostile environment the planet had to offer. Given our reason for being here, however, it was an uncomfortable serenity from where I was standing.

"Lis?" Kopaka eventually spoke up.

"Yeah?"

"I have to do this. You know that." Though calm as he said it, he didn't seem entirely comfortable with the prospect of leaving, not in the way that he'd been before. I had to seize the chance.

"No, you don't," I corrected him, then pointed at the plaque. "You know, even though that says 'in death, a legend,' they only think you're dead. You're still around for now, and could be for a lot longer. And yet you're still planning on leaving?"

"Yes, I am leaving." He seemed to gain resolve as he said it, which wasn't encouraging.

"After this, after everything, you're still heading back up there?" I asked with some disbelief.

"Yes." His expression hardened a bit.

"Because duty?"

"Yes." Go figure. Well, that meant he had to show me his amended plan, right?

"Then I take it you've solved the problem," I concluded. "You said you've amended your plan of going back into the mountains to never be seen again. Yet you're still going back, so what's the amendment?" Faced with silence, I threw a guess out there: "Are you planning on coming back again at some point?"

"No," he answered immediately.

"So you're gonna die up there," I deduced. "For real this time. You know how messed up that is?"

"Are you surprised?" he wondered.

"Well, no… but still, I've got to do something about it," I went on. "You're about to walk up there to your doom and I have a chance to stop it. You're not going to walk up that path."

"Lis, my duty demands it," he insistently reminded me.

"No, it doesn't and you know it," I countered. "We've been here. Your duty doesn't demand you to go up there..." I gestured at the mountain peaks behind me, then pointed up at the knowledge towers; "…it would send you up there. Telescopes, well above the rest of the town and with clear skies overhead. What else do you need?"

"You already know the answer to your own question," he answered. He was right, of course; I'd known the real answer ever since that glimpse I'd caught into his nightmare during surgery.

"Yes I do, but that's not the point," I continued. "The point is that you don't seem to realize the answer. I'd almost be okay with you walking away if you did, if you could admit why you're really going back, but then if you admitted it you wouldn't be going anymore, would you?" Really, only a fool would've gone at that point… a fool or a man possessed, and Kopaka wouldn't admit to being either. For the moment, he still wasn't admitting anything; decidedly bemused, he turned back to the view. I decided back off a bit from that closed door by getting back to probing the amended plan instead. "Okay, so you're still planning on going back up there and not coming back. What's the amendment?"

"You," he answered.

"Me?" I'd figured his plan included me, but how? Then I realized something: "What do you… hang on, I'm not going up there with you. No way." I already found the temperature in Ko-Koro-Nuva profoundly uncomfortable, never mind dangerous to me in the long run; I definitely wasn't going any higher than this.

"No, you are not," he confirmed.

"Then how am I involved?" I was burning both with curiosity and a need to find a flaw in his plan to exploit, but as with everything Kopaka was working on his own timescale. He sighed, then took a few steps back from the railing and out of the direct line of sight of most of the town. I followed right behind. "C'mon, how? What are you trying to get me to do here?"

"You said that my duty would be unfulfilled if everything that I have found did not find its way back to the Matoran," he began solemnly.

"Yes I did," I beckoned him on.

"You were right," he continued. "My duty is to the Matoran, and knowledge lost forever will not benefit them."

"Which is why I don't want you to go back up there," I brought the thing to full circle. "If you die up there, everything you found will be lost for good."

"That will not happen," he asserted.

"How? You don't still believe that you're invincible, right? You know you're gonna die up there; don't dismiss the possibility just because it's… inconvenient. And why wouldn't that result in everything you found being lost?" I wanted him to explain immediately, but he waited significantly longer before picking up the string again like he was penalizing me for the interruption.

"Because, in the event that I am unable to return my findings myself," he carefully worded his plan, "I would ask that you retrieve the data."

"R-retrieve the data? Me? Up there?" I gestured at the jagged mountain peaks behind me. "No one but you can go up there, 'cause no one but you can survive up there for any length of time! That's the whole point, isn't it?"

"The peaks are rough, yes," he conceded, "but for a Toa they are not impassable if you know what you are looking for and bring a Ko-Matoran along for guidance."

"So what, you expect me to go and find your recently dead body up there?" I couldn't believe this. "Kind of tramples on the whole legend thing if i bring a Ko-Matoran along, doesn't it? Also, how are you going to tell me things when..."

"You will not find me; you will find my private sanctum," he interrupted. "Everything I have found and deciphered is stored there."

"Oh, a sanctum," I feigned relief. "So what, a cave? A hut? A private knowledge tower? Given the weather up there, it'll probably be buried under new snow by the time I got to the place unless it's a straight-up tower. No way I'll find it then."

"No, you will find it," Kopaka argued, "because you will have this." With that, he reached behind his back and produced a mask unlike any I'd ever seen before. It wasn't super elaborate or legendary looking or anything like that, but it was definitely a rare design of some kind. It was dark blue and featured a very restrained amount of gold trim.

"What is it?" I wondered.

"It is a Kanohi Elda," Kopaka identified the mask.

"The Mask of Detection…" the title still didn't have much meaning for me. "Is it one of yours?"

"No, it is in your colors," he pointed out the obvious. "I would like for you to have it." He held it out towards me.

"Where'd you get it?" I wondered as I took the mask and weighed it in my hand. "Do I have a bunch of masks hidden that I'm supposed to go and find like you guys did?"

"No. I had it made in Onu-Koro-Nuva," he explained.

"Is that what you and Nuparu…" A picture of Kopaka's day was rapidly forming in my head.

"Yes." He cut me off.

"Okay, but what does this do?" I held up the mask to get an idea of what it would look like when someone was wearing it. I wasn't immediately sold on the expression, to be honest.

"It allows the user to locate a particular object or place," he explained. "Hahli used one to find the Kanohi Ignika once, but they can be keyed to anything. This one is keyed to an object in my sanctum."

"So if I wear this I become the only person in the world besides you that has a chance of finding the place," I realized. "I could just come and visit anytime."

"No," he shot the idea down. "It is not only keyed to my sanctum; it is also keyed to me. It is currently inactive. Only if I die will it activate and lead you to where the sanctum is."

"That's… a rather specific custom job," I thought out loud. Kopaka didn't offer any response to that while I took a moment to process through just what exactly he was wanting me to do. "So, let me get this straight; just in case you… can't get all your stuff back to the Matoran yourself, you want me to go up there and do it, using this?" I held up the Elda.

"Yes," he answered without showing any sign of realizing just how bad a plan it was. I did, and boy was it disappointing, if not downright infuriating to see that this was how far he was willing to go just to try and go back into the mountains without further argument from me.

"It's… it's ludicrous." I tried to be civil in offering my thoughts, but it only lasted about a second or two. "You went through the expense of having a custom mask made and roping me into this just to reconcile your high-proclaimed duty with your need to go up there and be away from everyone? This is just… no, it's terrible. When'd you think of this contrived hack-job for a plan?"

"Contrived?" He looked at me quizzically. "It satisfies my duty." I don't know how much work he'd done to convince himself that this plan was a good one, but his momentary confusion at having it described as 'contrived' spoke volumes.

"Yes, contrived," I reaffirmed the description. "What led you to this? You realized your previous plan wasn't going to work, that it wasn't going to fulfill your duty, and this is how you solve it? By getting someone else to finish the task after you've killed yourself trying? You know, lots of other Toa might've been willing to help you without question, but not me. You're asking me to do something extremely dangerous here; it's going to take a lot more than asking nicely."

"Like what?" he remained civil in spite of how I went off on his plan.

"What I told you earlier," I reminded him. "I'm sorry, but this plan is nothing but a desperate concoction of trying to satisfy all this talk of duty that you're so fond of with the real reason why you're going back. I know what the real reason is, and if you want me to do this, if you want to be able to head up there knowing that you're actually satisfying your duty in doing so, you're going to have to come to terms with it first. Tell me you know why you're really going back up there; not duty, not being a legend, not a better view of the sky. Tell me why you're really going back. I can't just let you go otherwise, not with a promise that your legacy is safe." In retrospect, I'd expected his plan to be a lot harder to criticize. As it was, I just put it all on the table to see what he thought of it, and think of it he did. I had to wait nearly a full minute before I got any kind of response, a minute in which he hardly moved a muscle even though his mind was working at fever-pitch. It made me all the more confident that I had him in a corner: he needed this plan to work, but now I'd laid down the ultimatum so that he'd have to acknowledge the influence that ego, that shadow Kopaka had on his decision. Once he acknowledged that, he'd have to re-examine the decision from a more purely objective standpoint, and objectively, he had no solid reason to go in the first place. He'd have to admit that, and when he did he couldn't on good conscience justify going anymore. So the trap was set and I awaited his reply, but when at last he did it was with a question rather than an answer.

"What do I get from staying?" he asked.

"What do you get?" I wasn't sure of the significance of the question. "Why does that matter? It's about duty, not what you get out of it. It's about what the Matoran get out of it."

"The Matoran could get what they need either way," he elaborated. "If you accuse me of not being objective in my decision to leave, then you should provide me with some objective reasons to stay."

"You need reasons?" This was unbelievable to me. "How's not dying for a start?"

"Lis, you saw what happened when Tahu tried to be a Toa in that arena," Kopaka said disappointedly. "You have seen what happened to the other Toa Nuva. This world does not have a place for a Toa like me; why would I stay longer?"

"But it does have a place for you," I gestured up at the knowledge towers again. "And you'd be around to help the people who need you."

"Who, Lis?" he asked grimly. "Who here needs me?"

"Tahu! Gali! The Ko-Matoran!" I listed off.

"My duty is to the Matoran, not to fallen mockeries of Toa," he denounced the idea, sounding oddly like an older version of himself in the process, then gestured towards the railing and Ko-Koro-Nuva beyond, "…and can you honestly say that these Matoran are currently in need of my presence?"

"Fallen mockeries of Toa!?" Now things were getting heated on my part; he couldn't denounce them like that after having made a genuine apology to one and convincing me that the other was still trying to be as much of a Toa as he could be. "You're one to talk! You said you lost the title too! I was there when it happened!" The reference to Pohatu's death hit him hard; his eyes widened and his expression fell, but even after he quickly reasserted himself I could still tell it hurt him. An awkward silence followed, and in spite of my anger I immediately regretted what I said. "I-I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

"No, I do not have the title anymore and for good reason," Kopaka conceded. "I do not doubt that many Matoran would agree if they knew the truth."

"They got a legend for Pohatu out of it, though," I attempted to mitigate the damage. "I'm sure most would understand why you did it if they knew."

"Understanding does not change the fact that they do not need me," Kopaka brought things back on topic, "and they are better off not knowing. Legends, Lis, remember? Duty alone does not provide me with a reason to stay."

"Not immediately, but that doesn't mean you can't offer the Matoran anything." I gestured at the plaque on the statue. "Look, it says 'in peace, a scholar.' There's a role for you right there. Make it your duty, like Gali with the healing."

"Being a scholar is exactly what I am doing up there." He gestured up at the mountains.

"Not just a scholar, not up there," I continued the argument without realizing that it was losing steam. "Up there you have to be something else just so survive. You could fulfill the role of scholar much better over here, and again, you could live."

"Living among people who have to believe me dead?" Now that he said it, that did sound somewhat preposterous. He went on, however: "Lis, we are free to choose to pursue our duty as we see fit, and I see fit to go back to my sanctum. Yes, I will eventually die up there, but no one needs me here. Not the former Toa Nuva, not the Matoran, no one."

"So now you admit it," I picked out one part of his answer: "you are going to die up there." It was a sobering admission on his part; up until now he'd avoided explicitly stating that his death up there was inevitable, but now the possibility of that delusion fueling into his decision making was slipping. The matter of his death was no longer an "if;" it was a "when."

"Yes," he sighed after giving the confirmation. "I will not be back again. I will die up there."

"And what about me?" I asked. "I'm just supposed to watch that happen? I've seen two Toa Nuva die, a third on the brink and a fourth come close twice. I can't just watch you go too. Okay, you don't want to stay for them, and maybe the Matoran don't need you to stay either, but I… I do." That also struck a chord, at least to the point where Kopaka spent some time thinking about how to proceed without him actually being in a tight spot to think his way out of. It was true, though; ever since the idea of him staying had taken root in my mind as a possibility, it had become rather much of an obsession. Watching him go would be like watching him die, and after Onua and Pohatu I didn't want to experience that again. The idea alone gave me shivers.

"Lis?" Kopaka interrupted my thinking in a voice that had softened considerably. "You do not need me."

"You don't know that," I pointed out. "You can read people's intentions, their reasoning all day long, but you don't understand what they feel or what your actions do to them. You don't even consider it."

"No, you do not need me because I have nothing left to show you," he corrected, and in disregarding my point about his lack of empathy lent more evidence to said point.

"Nothing left to show me?" I questioned. "Is that your point in all this; to show me… what?"

"…what it means to be a Toa in this world," he finished.

"What about this world?" Yeah, I'd spent quite some time thinking on what it meant to be a Toa now, but his view on what exactly he'd done to help me along in that was a point of interest.

"Toa who understand this world, who fit in it," he continued. "You accuse me of being unable to understand how people feel, and you are right. As a Toa, I did not need to; I needed to know how to fight the monsters the Matoran faced at the time. Rahi, Bohrok, Rahkshi, the Makuta, those are the monsters I fought and would fight again if they threatened the Matoran. But no, the only monsters in this world are within the Toa and Matoran themselves, inner demons that I cannot fight."

"That doesn't mean you can't stay here," I repeated, "or that I don't need you to."

"No, it does not," he acknowledged, "but it does mean that if I stayed I would be staying without purpose like Gali, like Pohatu after his injury, and like Lewa and Onua when they found themselves no longer able to fulfill their duty. You know what happened to them, and you do not want to see it happen to me."

"But they're not you," I countered. "We know how they met their fate, and you can avoid that."

"Then something else would take me," he concluded, then paused for a moment before elaborating: "Lis, my brothers were not taken by crystals or volcanoes or alcohol. They were taken by those inner demons; what we saw were just their methods."

"Then what inner demon would take you?" I asked, though I already knew the answer and expected him to find a way to dodge the question again… except this time, he didn't.

"You already know," he answered. "You saw it that night."

"Shadow Kopaka?" Hang on, was this at last the admission that I'd been looking for?

"Yes," the Toa of Ice admitted, though clearly with difficulty.

"Well, if you call him an inner demon than he's a separate entity, right? Where'd he come from?" I hoped that perhaps that would offer a clue as to how to get rid of him.

"It did not come from anywhere," Kopaka explained. "It was a part of me before, but the Makuta merely recognized it separately. When we met him, he identified our inner demons and gave them form."

"But then you can get over it," I tried to encourage him. "You know he… it's there, you know what it's telling you, so you can work around it, truly look at things objectively. Think about it: what would really be the best way to fulfill your duty?"

"In purely objective terms, the best option would be to stay," he recognized, "but it is not as simple as that."

"Why not? Even if you still want everyone to believe you're dead, I know there's a way that we can make it work," I pointed out. "And you could still live quite a ways away from people. I'll just make sure you'll have what you need and…"

"No." He dismissed the idea immediately. "It would not do, and you know why."

"Do you?" I really wanted to make sure he did; if there was anything left to explain, there was leverage to get him to stay. However, rather than giving a short, straight-up answer, he sighed and prepared for a longer one.

"When I first woke up," he began, "I did not know what a Toa was. None of us did. All we knew was that we landed on an island and that these little people called 'Matoran' kept calling us heroes. They said that we were their deliverance, that we were going to save them from all the evils in the world. However, we did not know what it took to be a hero, so each of us tried to imagine one based on what little we knew of ourselves. From that point, that was who we were or tried to be. It still is."

"And your hero doesn't need help from anyone," I remembered. "Nuparu told me something similar."

"Lis, we all have a certain image of ourselves that we work towards and aspire to be," Kopaka continued. "Mine is up there, completely cut off from the rest of the world, and if I give up on it I give up on the last part of me that I have left. I have already lost my title of Toa to ensure Pohatu's memory and my duty is to a people whose need for me to fulfill it vanished long ago. My former allies have fallen or are falling to parts of themselves that I could do little about even if I could overcome my own. Those mountains are what I have left, Lis, and if I do not go there then I will have nothing. At that point, I might as well be dead."

"Your inner demon is the very image of a Toa that you created for yourself, just as it was for the others," I realized. "Then let me help. As you said, I'm at least somewhat familiar with this world. Let's find you a place in it together, something that is Kopaka without the mountains."

"Something that will hide the fact that I am alive from the rest of the world?" he didn't sound hopeful. "You have already committed to helping Gali get back on her feet, and unlike me she still might have a place here. You have a duty to the Matoran too, Lis, and you will be fulfilling it far more effectively by helping a living Toa rise to become a legend to be proud of for one tribe than by bringing back a dead one for another that already has a legend to live after."

"Still, there's got to be something," I pushed on. "Any better option than… than this." I gestured up with the Elda, but increasingly the inevitability of what was about to happen was dawning on me, much to my despair over the situation and anger at myself for being unable to do anything to stop it. Granted, at least it was clear that Kopaka felt no better about it.

"If there was, I would have chosen to pursue it at this point," he gloomily observed. His voice, his expression, everything about him telegraphed a resignation to fate, a Toa broken of all illusions about his path yet fatalistically devoted to it. Opposite him, I found my toolbox empty; everything I'd thought of, every reason for him to stay was shot down one way or the other. Staying alive longer? He had no reason to and no other place to go. Helping the remaining Toa Nuva? Wasn't his duty, and no doubt he still didn't relish their company. Finding something else with my help? A waste of my time, according to him… to my frustration I had nothing left. I couldn't even help him after he did go back other than by making sure that the legacy of the last however many years of his life didn't get buried forever in those blasted mountains. I felt as I had done back in Pohatu's place, back when I'd pleaded with Kopaka not to kill the Toa of Stone only to realize that there was nothing that could be done and nothing left to save. Was that truly the case here? Was there nothing that could satisfy Kopaka without resigning him to this fate?

"Lis," he brought me out of my thoughts again.

"What?" Caught between anger and despair, I somehow evened out at numb.

"I will be going back up there regardless of whether you take the mask or not," he began, "but there is one last thing I need to say before I leave."

"What's that?" I neither knew what to expect nor cared for it until Kopaka placed his hand on my shoulder.

"Thank you," he said in about as warm a tone as he could manage. "Thank you for accompanying me and for showing me what you did."

"What? What did I do?" I was drawing blank on what exactly he was thanking me for.

"You never knew me before a week ago, yet you were immediately willing to help even though I did not ask for it," he explained. "You assisted in operations when you were under no obligation do so, and even after we parted in anger you came back and showed me something that I needed to see: Onua's death. It is because of that and because of you that Pohatu will get the legend that he deserves and that Gali is in a position to become the only one of the Toa Nuva to find a place for themselves in this world. Because of you I have left the world, or at least several of my former allies, in a better place rather than in a worse one."

"R-Really?" I wasn't so sure myself just yet.

"For a long time, I only had one person who I could call a friend," Kopaka went on. "You have seen the moment when I first met him, you have seen saw the moment when I thought that I had lost him, you have seen the moment when we thought we said goodbye for good, and you have seen the moment of his actual death. He was my friend not because he never questioned me; he was my friend because he understood. He was patient, willing to listen and ready to help, but also ready to hold me and everyone else accountable. That is how he was able to get along with everyone, to forge bridges while the rest of us continuously burned them. You have that same quality, Lis, and after what happened in the arena today this world needs it more than ever; this world does not need Toa like me, who fought great monsters that are little but bad memories now. It needs Toa like you, who are able to use their power to stop individuals' inner demons from destroying themselves; they can tear paradise apart just as they do to any Toa team in it. In this regard, I believe the world could not be in more capable hands than yours; you may have not seen many years or many battles, but I have hardly met another person more deserving of the title of Toa."

"Thank you, that's… that's a lot to take in," I stammered. "I'm like Pohatu to you? Like a friend?"

"I would be honored to call you that," he replied. "Lis, there is no one else who I would have entrusted this mask to. You are right in that it is a poor solution, but regrettably it is the best that I have left. There is nothing else that you can do for me."

"Nothing I could do for the Kopaka I met last week, maybe, but you've changed." I made one last desperate attempt. "You're not the Toa you were back then, no longer blinded by yourself to your own fate. You've changed already; can't you take it just one step further and overcome that inner demon altogether, or at least try?"

"Lis, people do not change that much," he solemnly replied, "not when there is so little left of them. Even if I stayed, I could never ignore that voice in my head, telling me that I had nothing left to live for. Up there, it is silent; up there I have peace, and I will take that at any toll that it will take on me. I am sorry, but I have nowhere else to go." For a couple of seconds, I just stood there, one side of me trying its hardest to convince me to keep arguing him out of this while the other was ready to give in, trying to convince me that in some ways, the decision to stay or leave was never his to make, nor mine. Nothing could've kept him here. Still numb and caught in between, I eventually came to the same decision I had arrived at two nights before.

"Then… then I'll take it," I just about managed to say. "I'll use the Elda, if only to make sure that at least your legacy is safe."

"Thank you," he said with audible relief still tinged by sadness. I decided to try on the new mask to cement the decision. Though trembling hands made it difficult, I took off my old mask, stored it away, and put the new one in its place. Even though it fit perfectly, its grip still felt tenuous; I'd have to get used to the tax of maintaining multiple masks at once, and for that matter to the field of view provided by the new one. Concentrating, I managed to summon back the Volitak.

"You know I'm going to miss this one," I pointed out.

"Sneaking never did become you," Kopaka replied.

"No, I guess it didn't... never fooled you anyways," I smiled in spite of myself and the situation, but it didn't last long. "You know, there's some things I should tell you as well," I remembered. "It's just… if I could do anything, anything else to keep you from having to go, I'd do it. I.. I hate that this is where we're at, you know? With everything we've seen over this past week, I really hoped I'd found something…" I was choking up; my eyes were welling up with tears. Kopaka took over.

"Lis, it was always going to end like this," he replied almost apologetically. "Nothing was going to change that, awful as it is."

"A-awful as it is…" I repeated softly. I was still struggling to come to terms, but those were the facts; nothing I could do was going to change the choices that Kopaka faced, and he was under no illusions about any of them anymore. This was the end, and it was the end I'd been trying so hard to avoid to no avail. Small wonder I couldn't keep from crying.

"I should get going," Kopaka decided.

"No, one last thing." I recollected myself enough to speak up again."Look, when I followed you onto that train, I didn't know where I was going. I'd pretty much broken up with my team a while before, didn't know what I was supposed to do as a Toa or how… how I should use my powers and all that. You were a curiosity at first, and there were some times when I really, you know, questioned what in the world I was doing, but… I'm glad I stuck with you and that you kept me around. I know I was hard to deal with sometimes, but you've shown me so much that… I don't feel so lost anymore, you know? So thanks, thanks for not giving up on me, for showing me everything that you did. It was hard and sometimes it hurt… but it's helped me a lot." At this point, I would've thought Kopaka didn't have any surprises left in store, but here in his reply he did; he didn't say anything, didn't move, just stood there and for the first time that I could remember, he smiled. It wasn't a very happy smile, but it was a satisfied one, a proud one even. Proud of me, proud of himself, probably both, but it was a strong gesture of appreciation all the same. Overwhelmed, I surprised myself by stepping forward and embracing him. No more words, just a tight embrace that I did not want to let go, 'cause I knew that when I let go he'd pretty much be gone. For a few seconds he just awkwardly stood there, surprised and without an immediate response ready, but then he returned the gesture as warmly as he could manage. There was something comforting, something reassuring in that, something that made his imminent departure just a little less heart wrenching. "I'll miss you," I managed between tears.

"I… will miss you too," he admitted it hesitantly, but I felt as sense of satisfaction about it all the same. Eventually we released; I took a step or two back, still struggling to keep control, still trying to fully come to terms with what was about to happen. Kopaka also took a moment to reassert himself, but I could tell that he'd shed some tears too. That helped in a way: it proved further that he really would've gone for any other option if he'd felt that he had one, and while this one still sucked it also made it considerably harder for me to question what else I could've done. Kopaka straightened out his cloak slightly in preparation for departure.

"Farewell, Lis." With that, he turned and started around the statue's base.

"Farewell, Toa Kopaka," I managed without choking up. He paused for a moment and glanced back at me. Though he'd reverted to his neutral facial expression after the embrace, I now noticed an ever so slight smile again. It was a hesitant one, but its meaning was clear to me; he wasn't entirely comfortable with being called Toa anymore, but appreciated it all the same. Honestly, in spite of what I'd said earlier, as far as I was concerned he still deserved the title regardless of what he'd done. He resumed his pace and headed towards the area where the rocky outcrop melded into the steep mountainside and where a narrow, barely visible trail led away from the town and towards the distant peaks. As I watched him slowly ascend, it looked to me like a vision from days gone by; the Toa Nuva of Ice returning to his post high in the mountains when his presence was no longer needed, tragic as it was. I had first seen him coming down that trail only eight days before, but it felt like so much longer and now I was likely the last person to ever see him alive. As darkness and distance gradually took him out of view, I thought back to everything we'd shared; the memories shared, the surgery, Pohatu's death… Truly, I had much for meditation.

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