When the sun sank behind the tallest palms, Ho lit his torches and walked to the eastern shore

There he saw a small crew of four hauling a great waka from the surf, while a fifth, cloaked in rare dog fur, remained aboard urging them on. The growl was unmistakable—Faturaki, his old tohunga and adoptive father.

Ho ran to help, but Faturaki spotted him first and leaped into the shallows.

“My boy! The legend!”

“Slow down, old man! You’ve only one good leg!”

Faturaki was a few paces away from him, grinning. They both halted at arm’s length, Ho confused by the old man at first, has he shrunk a bit in only ten years? Ho placed his right hand on Faturaki’s shoulder, and they pressed noses.

“We are alive to share breath again,” said Faturaki, stepping back. “It truly is you, son. I feared we’d sailed to the wrong island. “

Ho raised himself up to full height, jutting his jaw staunchly, as if under inspection. They sized each other up before flashing eyebrows and began laughing, unrestrained. “You said you’d follow the Manōkalanipō star. I listened and remembered. Not too bad for and old tohunga aye?”

“There are many small atolls on the Ko‘olau bearing,” Ho said, pointing seaward, “but this one lay directly beneath it. I knew it would be easy to find me, should you come looking. I just didn’t expect it would take you this long.”

“So you weren’t trying to escape for good?”

“Never father. I only wanted quiet for a time.”

Faturaki nodded. “It took years to understand your leaving. Entire villages mourned. Your tribe, Feke, nearly went to war over you.”

“Because I left?”

“Because the Champion of Kafiki abandoned his island. The son of Takaroa.”

The title sat heavy in Ho’s chest and recalled the spear. Kalapa’s question lingered, not fully answered. What does champion even mean after all this time?

By then, the crew had gathered around them—three men and a woman—marked in Feke and Matavai patterns, an uncommon pairing for a voyage, considering Matavai mainly confined tmeselves to their river.

By then the crew had gathered around them—three men and a woman—their bodies marked in the patterns of Feke and Matavai. It was an uncommon pairing for a sea voyage, since the Matavai people mostly kept to their river.

Laughter spread through them, and the tightness eased. Faturaki went on, “See? I was right. All that Matavai gossip had you convinced. Even the island’s nine tribes were deluded by the chatter of noble parrots.”

“What has happened?” Ho asked.

“Much to discuss—but not yet.”

One of the men stepped forward, short and round, a wide nose splitting a wide grin.

“Galaiga!” Ho exclaimed.

They pressed noses. “When they asked for men to hoe to find you, I was first to stand, brother!”

Next came Tufukia and Tu‘unaga, the Matavai chief’s sons, broad and red-haired with pale birdlike eyes—signs of mixed blood. The last was a young woman, slight and sharp-eyed.

“Sinakoa,” she said, pressing noses. “Faturaki knew you were here all along, and I believed him. It was the others who listened to the Matavai ariki, blaming you for their stolen children.”

“Me?” Ho flinched. The air between them thinned. He turned to Faturaki. “Stolen children? So this voyage was to confirm I was still stuck here, and nothing more?”

Faturaki’s grin faded. “It’s more than that, boy. Keep your ears open and your temper restrained for now.” He smiled again. “But first we feast. You look starved. Like a palm after a storm. What have you been eating? You’re just beard and bone.” Turning to the crew, he barked, “You four! Bring the mats and provisions! Bleed and bless it before you cross the sand. Use Takaroa and Tawhiri—let their ears hear us again!”

The crew ran to the waka. Faturaki waited until they were out of earshot, then slapped Ho on the back. “You’re alive, and that’s all that counts my boy!”

Ho faced the ocean. “Takaroa! You have sustained me, O great ocean. Sky and sun and earth. See me! Hear my voice Tawhiri you coward! I have mana! It grows once more!” “Oi.” Faturaki, interrupted his boasting. “You need to pray instead of insult boy. Who really sustained you?”

Faturaki knelt and Ho quickly followed, keen to be led by his father again, trusting his action. Faturaki began the old chants and incantations, those meant for ariki ears only—to the sea, to the sky, and to the ancestors who had guided him here. The two men knelt in the shallows, foam lapping at their knees, hands raised to the horizon. When they finished, the crew returned with kete filled with food, and Ho led them through the palms toward his shelter.

Firelight touched the clearing ahead, and voices rose behind him—laughter, prayer, the scent of salt and smoke winding through the night.