Chapter Text
It took several months of daily sailing and wayfinding lessons before Moana felt confident enough in her people’s new abilities to suggest a trip beyond the reef, even a small one. Out on the sea with Maui, learning had been one thing – he’d been teaching her all day, every day, and she drank in the knowledge like coconut water. But he’d only had one student, and a student who’d spent her entire life yearning to take to the ocean. Moana, on the other hand, had an entire village to teach, just a little less experience than a centuries-old demigod, and everyone – including her – had their other duties to attend to as well.
She’d been surprised to realize just how many of her people did want to sail – there were some who insisted they were perfectly happy on Motonui and saw no need to leave, but the first lesson had seen Moana standing on the beach besides her canoe in front of almost every adult who could be spared from their duties, and what looked like every child on the island.
She’d drawn a deep, nervous breath as she felt every eye on her, and then met the gaze of her father, standing in the back of the group. He smiled, his face lit with unmistakable pride. Moana found herself smiling back, then squared her shoulders and stepped up onto the canoe and began to explain the function of each part.
Some of the villagers took to sailing almost as easily as Moana had, especially the younger ones, but she almost wished she could teach them separately from those who had more trouble. It got hard sometimes, keeping tempers in check, especially when they saw others learning so much faster than them. Luckily, after returning from her journey, Moana had gained a great deal of respect among the village, and she could usually soothe the more easily frustrated villagers – and if all else failed, she still had a pretty solid store of “what not to do” stories from her own education. It was a lot harder for people to be angry with one another when they were laughing at her miming getting dunked or smacking Maui with a sail.
She still wished her friend could be there to help, though – some days, having a giant musclebound demigod backing her up would really have helped stop fights before they began. And it might have been less embarrassing than her father having to step in – he only intervened himself when she didn’t seem up to the particular problem, and every time she felt a pang of guilt that he needed to take over when it was her responsibility to keep everyone focused.
It didn’t help that there were days when all she wanted to do was jump on her canoe and go, sail out to the line in the distance and explore. The trip to Te Fiti had been the most incredible experience of her life – but the thought of Motonui, the encroaching darkness, her people’s food stores dwindling, had hung over her like storm clouds waiting to break. There hadn’t exactly been time for wandering or investigating that speck in the distance that could have been an island no one had ever set foot on before. With Te Fiti’s heart restored, the fear of delays had gone – but at that moment, all Moana had wanted to do was go home and see her people and her parents, to reassure them that she was alive and safe and had thought about them every day. Now, with none of that to worry at her heart, its call was louder than ever, and sailing only far enough to teach her people and return home every day wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy her.
Eventually, though, she managed to convince everyone who wanted to sail to keep at their lessons, and it had finally paid off. It would have been worth the almost six months of being practically landlocked, the frustration, the constantly repeating herself to a dozen different people, just to see everyone’s faces as she took a group out for a real trip. They were almost overstocked on food and water, given that they were only going to be away for a week or two, but she’d seen no harm in making sure they were prepared, and it had eased the minds of several people, both back home and making the journey.
Now she’s finally out on the sea again, the spray on her face and hair, breathing in the salt, hearing the creak of wood as she leads the way, and behind her follow four more boats. Every time she looks back she can see the joy and energy in the way everyone moves and calls to each other, laughing and joking. Their sailing isn’t quite as steady as hers, but it will come – and, she reminds herself, it probably didn’t hurt her to have the ocean itself on her side. She dips a hand into the water, checking the current, then straightens to adjust the sail. As she does, she glimpses a bird high overhead and can’t help squinting up at it – no, just a gull, not a hawk. The gull might still be Maui, but somehow it doesn’t seem quite flashy enough for his tastes. A seagull can't really make an entrance.
Moana understands why Maui didn’t stay, but she wishes he’d at least stopped by to visit once or twice. There was nothing like home and no one like her people, but sometimes she wanted to talk to the only other person who’d been on the journey with her, instead of hearing the story secondhand after she’d come home. Especially since, well, there were parts of the story that she wanted to get out of her head, but she didn’t want to start telling everyone about how painful and helpless being nearly torn in half by a monstrous crab had been, or the bone-deep, aching terror that had flooded her as she desperately tried to dodge Te Ka and get through the islands alone. Some things, she didn’t really want to share with the village.
Come to think of it, that might have been why Maui had been a little vague with some of the stories he told her. Demigod or not, she knows for a fact he could and did get scared and miserable, and proud. Sharing his lowest moments and terrible fears probably ranks about as low on his list of things to do as tossing his fishhook into a whirlpool. If she did end up sharing feelings, she’d give him about even odds of either brushing it off with a joke or awkwardly trying to change the subject.
Okay, maybe a little chance of him coming out with something surprisingly helpful too. Maybe.
One way or the other though, Moana has a job to do, and she puts Maui out of her mind and refocuses on sailing.
A week later, they had turned for home, and she’d dropped back to let the others test their skills without her guiding them the whole way. The others are taking them on nearly a perfect route home, and every time she checks their course Moana feels a warm glow of pride deep in her chest – and a touch of relief, as well. She couldn’t have done too badly teaching them, it seems.
Moana had taken some dried fish from her stores – and this time, she’d checked each compartment before they set out. Heihei was not stowing away again. Glancing up at the sky as she eats, she almost misses the flash of gray in the corner of her vision. She looks just in time to see a dolphin leap out of the waves and onto her boat – and change form just in time for Maui to stick the landing and nearly swamp half her canoe. “Miss me, princess?”
“Maui!” Moana is torn between wanting to hug him and smack him. She settles for glaring, though she can’t stop herself from smiling at least a little. “Be careful, you almost tipped my boat!”
Maui laughs. “Yeah, good to see you too. This bucket’s better made than that, it survived Te Ka, didn’t it?”
Moana shakes her head, unable to hold back a laugh. “Where have you been? It’s been months!”
Maui shrugs expressively, grinning wide. “Demigod stuff! I figured someone had to clear out the monsters still swimming around, make sure certain wayfinders didn’t run into anything they couldn’t handle with the power of believing in themselves really hard.” He preens. “Didn’t you notice what smooth sailing it was?”
Moana snorts. “I figured it was because I wasn’t on a quest to save the world this week, actually. Or maybe they were just naturally drawn to you.” She grins back. “You know, from the smell.”
Maui splutters indignantly for a second and Moana spots Mini-Maui snickering from his chest. “Unbelievable! I spend months chasing monsters and nearly getting chunks taken out of me every week and not even a little gratitude. Would it kill you? Are you allergic to it, is that the problem?”
She giggles and waves a hand. “Okay, okay. Thank you, Maui – and if you try to make another big show of ‘you’re welcome’ I’m pushing you back in the ocean before you try to steal my canoe.”
“That happened one time.”
“You tried to trap me in a cave.”
“Details! Anyway, that’s not the only thing I had to do. Your village isn’t the only one that hasn’t been sailing for a few centuries, and most of them forgot how, too. Someone had to help them out.”
“Oh.” That makes a lot of sense, actually. She hadn’t thought much about other islands being just as isolated as hers. Moana notices the others looking back from their own boats, staring at her and Maui. She can’t blame them, Maui’s appearance had been almost as surprising to her, but she raises her voice and calls to them “We’re drifting off course!” Maui glances over as the other villagers scramble to correct.
“Already voyaging? I should’ve known. Hey, what do you have to eat around here? I’m starved.” Without waiting for an answer he opens the hatch, rummages for a moment, and scoops out some uhi, and Moana rolls her eyes as he starts eating.
“It’s just a test run, we were on our way home. Can you not eat all my food? I kind of need it.”
“Oh please, you had less than this when you found me,” Maui answers with his mouth full. Moana gives a long-suffering sigh.
It’s good to see him again.
Moana expects Maui to take off again soon, but instead he stays for the rest of the trip back to Motonui. He goes between boats to pass along sailing advice or strike up conversations, often shapeshifting so he can fly back and forth, even separating from the group entirely and disappearing into the clouds or the sea sometimes, but he always comes back to Moana’s boat eventually to joke and banter (and eat more of her food – he’s right that she doesn’t need all of it, they’re getting close to home now, but it’s the principle of the thing).
She can’t hear most of what he and the others talk about, but from what she does catch, and what she picks up from talking to them herself, he’s making a good first impression. Surprisingly good, considering the one he made on her. Being free to fly and sail and do what he wants must have been good for him.
Finally, late one morning, she hears the shouts go up as Motonui appears on the horizon. Moana smiles at the sight, already anticipating their reception. She also plans to share some of the less flattering stories from the trip – Konani managing to tip his canoe entirely on a calm sea might do his ego some good.
Maui lands on the canoe beside her, changing from hawk form much more gracefully than he could from a dolphin. “That’s the place, huh?” He folds his arms, looking almost thoughtful.
“That’s home,” Moana says, and Maui glances at her and smirks.
“So how worried should I be? I mean, this is the place that made you, after all.” Moana smacks his arm with a laugh and shakes her head as Motonui grows larger and larger before them.