Jump to content

A Restless Freak in Paradise


Recommended Posts

Wrote another fanfic about Kanohi, taking place in the alternate universe of the Kingdom of the Great Spirit. The last story still happened in the backstory of this tale, it exists in both the Core Universe and the Kingdom Universe. It’s a short tale and the stakes are quite low, it does take place in a peaceful near-utopia after all. Still even in utopia Kanohi remains a vigilante, because Matoran still need heroes, and the Toa don’t protect the Matoran like they once did. Macku is a major character as well, most of the story is in her point of view, I’ve never written her before though so I am interested in feedback. And yes shippers of Hewkii and Macku, I threw you a bone. A small one, but it’s still there.

Side note, I actually love that Vakama’s visions were the result of a glitch, to me it means the Matoran are evolving beyond their intended programming, even beyond what Velika meddled with. It gives me a canon starting point to have other Matoran “evolve” beyond the limits of Matoran too. Anyway, the story is below, 


In the time, after time, in our glorious Kingdom of the Great Spirit; there was peace. For over ten thousand years all of us survivors of the Matoran Universe had lived in unity, from Toa to Matoran to Vortixx to Skakdi to Dark Hunters. From warlords to arm dealers to mercenaries to heroes and villagers, all of us lived together, all but the worst grudges settled. The Toa no longer protected us, at least not through violence. Now they expanded our island, stretching the kingdom farther across the endless ocean, stabilized the earth, fueled our furnaces, kept the kingdom thriving. Instead the Dark Hunters kept order in the Kingdom, dealing with criminals and rampaging Rahi. And after ten thousand years the Matoran struggled to recall how they had feared the mercenaries, nor remembered when they depended on the Toa to protect them. And even fewer recalled the millennia before the Toa arrived on Mata-Nui, when the Matoran were all alone on the isle, with no protection but bamboo disks. Such brutal painful memories had faded, lost to the ages.

But there were still some Matoran who remembered those terrible centuries, when six villages of Matoran were besieged by terrible beasts, isolated even from each other, and the only one they could rely on was their Turaga and themselves.

Macku gazed upon the skyline of the Kingdom of the Great Spirit, its many towers as varied in architecture as they were in residents. Some of the cityscape was nearly organic, the building’s metal frames curved and fluid. Other buildings were blunt and angled, brutalist in their shape. Between them ran hundreds of streets and paths, a spider web of walkways.

Walking through the streets were millions of the city’s denizens, from the lanky and thin Vortixx, to the sneering and stout Skakdi. And most common of all were the diminutive Matoran, each at best half the height of a Toa, and each far weaker than any other race in the Kingdom.

Macku had climbed up one of the towers near her boat shop, as if she fancied herself a Le-Matoran. The Ga-Matoran looked out from her perch, just taking the sight in. All these people flowing through the streets as the current of the endless ocean. But it was not the ocean. And it was not Ga-Koro.

She sighed, massaging her mask. She … this was a perfect world, a perfect kingdom. Even though the death of Great Spirit had forced this kingdom into being, it remained a utopia. It was good.

But a part of her … felt restless. Even after ten thousand years.

Finally she spotted movement, sweeping through the buildings. She grabbed a telescopic lens and peered through it, spotting Kanohi. The Fe-Matoran vigilante grappled through the city, using the Volo Lutu Launcher built into his arm to swing between skyscrapers. He was covered in masks carved out of wood, which was why he was known as Kanohi. He swung across the city, hurtling above the foot traffic.

His route was … seemingly random, it was hard to know where in the Kingdom he would appear on a given day. Still Macku would look out for him, especially in the years when boat travel was forbidden. And in recent days he had been circling over this spot. Waiting,

As Macku watched Kanohi grappled towards the base of a building, landing with a tap besides a Ce-Matoran. She was … hard to see this far away, but it looked like she was trembling. Kanohi began to speak to her, his words were obscured by his masks but the Ce-Matoran still seemed to respond. She pointed partway up the skyscraper, and Macku followed the motion to see a small Brakas hooting, waving a Lightstone with their feet.

Kanohi nodded and aimed his launcher upwards, before hurling himself into the building. The Brakas bolted as the vigilante grappled upwards, the monkey scrambling up the side of the building on their arms and legs as their tail shifted to wrap around the Lightstone. As Kanohi landed on the side of the building he shoved off, and grappled after the monkey. The monkey ducked down as Kanohi swung after them, letting Kanohi whirl past.

Kanohi dug his metal fingers into the side of building, skidding to a halt. Then with a blast of his launcher he resumed the chase, following after the Brakas.

Macku stood up and began to lean across the roof, trying to get a good view as Kanohi gained on the monkey. A faint smile drifted on her face, hidden below her mask. Her heartlight’s flashing began to accelerate, and her hands gripped her lens tightly.

Kanohi lurched and ripped through the air, his body yanked about as he hurtled after his Volo Lutu Launcher. The modifications to the launcher were simple, he was no Nynrah Ghost, but it still was triggered by his mere thoughts, and no longer needed to be held in his hand.

The vigilante felt his heartlight pound as he missed the Brakas, sailing past. His fingers drummed the air as he twisted around, before firing another gravity well into the skyscraper. With a jerk he was flung after the gravitational pull, latching onto the building. His many wooden masks clinked on the landing, like the wind rustling through the old forests of Le-Wahi.

He grappled after the monkey, his carved masks sang around him as they rattled together, and he tried not to smile. It was … it felt good to grapple across the cityscape, even with the danger. The wind whipping around him, his masks clanking; the sensations tickled him. And best of all he was helping the Matoran. In small ways yes, but helping was helping. And it made him feel like he had accessed the power of a Pakari Nuva, strengthening all Matoran.

He stopped short perching to the building to catch his breath. It was a brutalist shape, straight flat walls, a burnt orange color, basically an inhabited brick. A few windows were open, that might be useful. And there to the side was the Brakas, pointing and laughing at him as their tail coiled around the Lightstone.

They just stood there, laughing, so Kanohi took this time to pull out his lighter. It was a relic from when the Kingdom was called Mata-Nui, a simple device Turaga Vakama had made him that projected small flames. The Fe-Matoran gazed into that fire, focusing on the vision.

He could see that Ce-Matoran twirling in a an empty white space, clutching her Lightstone. Then his stomach lurched as he was ripped free of the sight, stumbling as he landed before her as she shakily fled through the tunnels, trying to escape the rising flood of water and mutagen. All she carried with her was the Lightstone, illuminating her path. And as she ran there was a terrible sound, as she looked up to see the tunnels melt away, as well as her Lightstone. There above her was a blunt brick of a building, with a monkey laughing as they clutched her Lightstone. And then suddenly something slammed into the Brakas, dropping the rock and them to the ground.

His heartlight throbbing, Kanohi left the vision, to see the Brakas inches from his head, making a silly face. Slowly Kanohi stowed away his lighter, before he released his launcher’s grip on the side of the building. He plummeted, and the monkey laughed, before he swung up his launcher and fired. He flung himself at the monkey, but the beast ducked, letting him once more hurtle past.

The autistic vigilante twisted in the air, his fingers wiggling as if he was typing. His launcher fired and hooked him back to the building, before he fired again, swinging forward to the point of skimming the monkey’s flank.

The monkey shrieked in surprise and frantically scrambled off the side of the building, while Kanohi once again shot past. The Brakas didn’t stop, scampering as far as they could, but by then Kanohi was perched on an open window. Holding onto the window with his left hand he aimed his launcher, moving slow, just focusing on following the monkey, now that he had a solid perch. before firing into the Lightstone itself.

Another sphere of gravitational force flew from the launcher, sticking to the Lightstone. In a rush Kanohi was flung after it, the launcher sucking him to the sphere. With a thump he slammed into the monkey, knocking the Lightstone out of the Brakas’ tail. The stone fell, as did the monkey and Kanohi.

The Matoran vigilante twisted in free-fall, scrambling to grab the Lightstone. With a lunge he grabbed it, hoisting it to his chest. As he clutched it tight to his heartlight he aimed his launcher and fired, right before colliding with the ground. As he was hurled horizontally by his grappling his momentum was broken, defusing the worst of his landing.

Kanohi landed on his back, smacking into the side of the building. He groaned as he slid the rest of the way down, before landing on all-fours. He hyperventilated as his body quaked, before shakily throwing himself onto his feet.

Staggering he headed to the Barajas, which lay in the street, their chest heaving. He leaned over the monkey and it … , the poor Rahi seemed hurt, broke their leg. Without speaking the vigilante began to pull out a splint, and began to bind up their limb.

But even as he finished tying up the bandage, Kanohi was sent stumbled from a sharp kick. He tumbled, his body aching, as the Brakas limped off. Kanohi reached his ha d out after after them, before pulling his hand back, and instead turning away. The vigilante limped and staggered over to the Ce-Matoran, handing her the Lightstone.

Her hands fluttered excitedly as she held the object, flicking the light on and off. Then with a bow to Kanohi she ran off, almost skipping away.

It was so simple, just chasing a mischievous monkey to get back a Lightstone. But it still left Macku feeling … stronger? It was hard to articulate what it felt like. She continued to peer after the vigilante, Kanohi was leaning against a building, panting. Even the sturdy body of a Fe-Matoran could only handle so much abuse.

Then he aimed his launcher towards Macku, and grappled up to her perch. She startled as he smacked into the edge of the building’s roof, before she dived at her fellow Matoran, straining but still managing to drag him onto the rooftop. His masks clinked and clattered against his metal body as well as the roof, like chimes caught in a gentle breeze.

“Mind if I … if I rest here a bit, Macku?” He managed to ask as he lay flat on the roof, his heartlight flashing frantically as he panted out of breath. His body was hidden by his wooden armor, but it was clear his body used the body plan of Mata-Nui

“Sure,” she nodded, before almost blurted out, “need me to look out for the Dark Hunters?”


Macku smiled beneath her mask, and began to peer over the city, sweeping her gaze. As she searched the skyline she asked, “You remember me?”

“Of … of course, you were in the … Chronicler’s Company.”

Her blue face turned a maroon color beneath her mask, and she rubbed the back of her head, “that was … a very long time ago. I am surprised you remember that.”

“How could … anyone forget? Without you and the others the Toa Mata would have … they would have been ambushed, and they wouldn’t have been able to succeed against the … Makuta.”

“They didn’t exactly defeat the Makuta then.”

“Yes. But without … without you, the Toa Mata would have perished. You saved our island.”

Macku turned almost scarlet, before she coughed and asked, “what is it like to see the future?”

“It is … confusing. Even if I focus my power with my … lighter, it is a series of emotions more than coherent events. Just flashes of imagery and voices. Still, it’s not a bad thing that the most pressing visions I see these days is a monkey stealing a Lightstone.” His breathing was steadying now.

“Why don’t the Dark Hunters believe you can see the future?”

“You mean why they think I’m just a … just a fraud who … who sets up problems so I can solve them?” Kanohi started to sit up, “because I am a Matoran. I’m not meant to have powers.”

“…Yeah,” Macku sighed, “silly question.”

“Asking questions is not bad, just means you want to learn more. Even if you believe you know something for sure, it can be good to question it.” The autistic vigilante continued to breathe a little heavy, even as he sat there besides her on the roof, his fingers rattling against the metal roof.

“Suppose you need to know that if you have visions.”

“Yes. Though I remember a Ga-Matoran who not only questioned her Turaga’s judgement, but directly disobeyed her to get help when Ga-Koro was under siege by beasts.”

“I was forbidden to leave the Koro for ages after that,” she laughed.

“And if you had not disobeyed your Turaga, Ga-Koro would have been destroyed,” he stretched, flinching as the motion ached his body, “you were a real hero that day. And not much later you protected the Toa themselves when they journeyed into Kini-Nui.”

“…Not many know that. The only ones who seem to remember are Kapura and Hewkii. And they are Toa now, things are … different. And why aren’t you a Toa? Surely if it was anyone’s destiny to transform, it would have been you. You were protecting the Matoran centuries before Takanuva summoned them, journeying between the villages, fighting off Rahi.”

“Why am I not a Toa?” He sounded genuinely confused, “what about you?”


“At least in my case, it is not my destiny to become a Toa,” he said finally, “I know, I have never experienced a prophecy where I become a Toa.”

“Your visions don’t show you everything.”

“They show me more than most.”

“…Is it true, that one day the island will collapse?”

“You heard that from Hewkii?”

“Yes. We still see each other … from time to time.”

“Oh, but you used to be so close.”

“That was over ten thousand years ago.” Before he became a Toa.

“…You know, I have a glitch,” he said awkwardly.

“Your visions are a different kind of glitch.” They were useful at least, they didn’t hurt. Still she changed the subject, “so, will our island flood?”

He closed his eyes beneath his many masks. “The Matoran Universe below is … it has been flooded and dead for over ten thousand and fifty years. And as the tunnels … and caverns beneath our island rust and erode from the saltwater … it weakens our island’s foundation. It is likely that the island will sink below the waves.”

“But we will leave the planet before then?”

“I have seen visions of cannons … firing capsules to the stars, carrying the people of this kingdom into space … up to that barren world in our sky. So I believe so. But sometimes I see visions of things that only might happen.”

“You have seen alternate futures?”

“Yes,” she realized he suddenly seemed tired, exhausted.

“Do you need any medical attention?”

“No. Just … talking is draining.”


“It is okay, just ask simpler questions.”

“Did you ever see what would have happened if Matoro had saved the life of the Great Spirit?”


“Would … would things be better?”


“…Then why not defend Matoro?”

“I tried.“

“The Matoran are not the best at listening to you, are they?”


“We never were good with Matoran who were unusual. We honored them if they proved useful, but even then, they were alone.”

“Yes,” it sounded like there was a tired smile beneath his masks, “It is why I became a vigilante. I knew how isolating Mata-Nui could be. We all needed someone to look out for us, especially us glitched freaks. Seeing a Matoran helping all of the villagers, no matter their Koro, in an era when the Toa were only legends, let alone a Matoran freak … I knew what that could mean.”

“…Why do you still do your vigilantism? Try to rescue pets, return lost objects, save Matoran from high falls? Not even the Toa do it anymore.”

“Someone has to.”

“But it’s not like when we were six isolated villages, surrounded by violent beasts with no Toa or Dark Hunters to protect us. We have protectors, we have peace. There are no monsters here. Why do you risk arrest to try to return something like a Lightstone?”


“You miss it, don’t you?”

“Give me a moment,” He said shortly. And she nodded, going back to peering over the cityscape, looking for the Dark Hunters

“I should not miss it,” he answered, fidgeting with his fingers as he spoke slow, haltingly, “But parts of it I do, at least just a little. But that is not why I stay a vigilante. The Matoran need to have agency, to feel they can rise above their limits, that they can be heroes. They do not need hope now, but they can still need … inspiration. Symbols are important, and a reminder that Matoran are not helpless, that can be useful. Even if I don’t fight Muaka anymore.”

“I hardly remember that millennia now, it seems so long ago. Well, maybe my body still remembers what it was like back then.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just been feeling … I do ‘t know, for the past few centuries I’ve felt … restless?”

He nodded, “I understand. You still play Kolhii?”

“Not regularly. I don’t think it would be the same though. Is it wrong the miss that single year when we Matoran stood besides the Toa to fight the Makuta, not as equals but at least as allies?”

“Nostalgia can be blinding. But you know that.”

“Yes. This is a perfect society, a utopia. Why do I crave the old days?”

“It was simpler. In bad ways as well as good. Less complexities, just us Matoran, the Toa, and the Turaga. But then Matoran like Takua and Midak were outcasts for their differences, many of us were. ”

“Yes. You at least had Vakama.”


“Something wrong?”

“Me and Vakama … are not close anymore.”

“Because he didn’t tell you about the Matoran Universe?”

“I had … so many visions of Matoran suffering. If he had only told me what was happening beneath our feet, that I was not a Po- Matoran…”

“Nokama should have told me too. I would have probably tried to return to Metru-Nui and gotten killed, but we deserved the respect to know who were are.”

“I do understand why the Turaga lied. But it still burns.”

“Especially when Vakama could have told you exactly why you never had felt at home in Po-Koro? That it wasn’t just your visions.”

“Yes. Mata-Nui was never perfect, the pressure to conform was … everywhere. And those of us who could not…” the autistic vigilante sighed, “the Kingdom is not perfect. It is … better in a lot of ways, but it still has many of the old problems. Matoran who can’t conform still are freaks, still distrusted. Still it is getting better, steadily over time our kingdom grows wiser and kinder. Slowly at least.”

“Dark Hunter spotted, flying towards us.”

Kanohi nodded and stood up, swaying on his feet, but otherwise alright. He walked to the edge of the building, aimed his Volo Lutu Launcher to a nearby skyscraper of a curved almost egg-like shape, its sides ending in interwoven spikes.

Before he launched though, he hesitated. And then he a said, “You know, maybe you are still a Matoran to inspire the others. You were in the Chronicler’s Company - you could make a good vigilante yourself. Just a thought.” And then he grappled away, streaking off through the cityscape, the winged Dark Hunter immediately diving after him.

Macku watched the Matoran vigilante grapple away, zig-zagging through the city like the Brakas as the Dark Hunter pursued. She … she could not lie. To be a hero, grappling across the city, helping the Matoran, it was tempting. To reclaim some of her old heroics, even if the dangers of old had passed. But that was good, not having to fight beasts. She could just do small things, make the world better in small ways. That … that wasn’t so bad

But if she did become a vigilante, even if she only did small things, she could lose her boat shop, become an outcast. It was something she would need to consider carefully.

But as Kanohi grappled off into the distance, the thought lingered. And who knows, maybe it would give her a reason to see Hewkii more often.

"Danger is the anvil on which trust is forged"-Jaller(Jala) :smilejala: 
"We're on our own here-like we've always been-and we'll stand or fall on our own"-Tanma
"He may seem slow and strange to you, but his simple words often carry a hidden wisdom"-Turaga Vakama on Kapura

Kanohi: Stories of a Matoran Vigilante The Impact of a Rebirth: a Kanohi Fanfic The Willing Exiles: a Kanohi Fanfic SKA PC Profiles: Kanohi, Collector, Mahrika Kardaka BZPRPG Profiles Avatar by @Harvali 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.

Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.

  • Create New...