Chapter Text
If the universe within Mata Nui’s body was vast, Spherus Magna was an infinity. It had been a century since its reformation, and still the planet was mostly unexplored by the Matoran. They had been too occupied eking out an existence in an unfamiliar place. One hundred years of miscellaneous successes and failures had settled into peace that blanketed the planet, allowing the Matoran to pick up where they had left off in terms of their society.
As a whole, they were nice enough not to leave the Glatorian and Agori behind. Despite the occasional language barrier, they had integrated well with the former inhabitants of Bara Magna, placing things like Kanoka disks and Kolhii sticks into the hands of Agori everywhere. Civilization, which seemed to have paused to let Spherus Magna settle, had resumed at an almost alarming pace, which could be seen in the bustling metropolis of New Atero at the heart of the new Agori-Matoran nation. One of the agreements between the Agori and the Matoran was that their capital would be named New Atero, but its districts would bear the names of those of Metru Nui. The city itself grew in a unique way, combining the best of Old Atero’s “urban jungle” with Metru Nui’s new technology.
Either way, Turaga Matau was really happy to see chutes again. They had slowly been popping up all over the Agori-Matoran settlements, but what really thrilled him was the new system that was being put in place in honor of Spherus Magna’s centennial. He’d marked it on his calendar as “Reformation Day/NEW CHUTE SYSTEM!!!!!” and made plans with the other Turaga to watch the work crews demolish the last of the scaffolding. The official opening ceremony was not for another week, but as he approached the chute station in the central city of New Atero, he had to wade through a sizeable crowd before catching sight of any of his friends.
He happened upon Nokama, Onewa, and Nuju standing near a lamp post, and rushed up to join them.
“Greetings, brothers and sister!” Matau called out, pushing past Matoran and Agori to join his fellow Turaga. Nokama clasped his hand when he was close enough, Nuju nodded approvingly, and Onewa clapped his longtime friend on the back.
Matau rubbed the sore spot where Onewa had hit. “Good to knowfeel that you’ve still got your Toa-strength in those arms of yours, friend,” he said with a slight wince.
Onewa simply laughed in reply. “Consider it a punishment for being late, after all that blathering about how great this will be,” he motioned to the remaining scaffolding, slowly being dismantled by Matoran and Agori workers. Nuju clicked disapprovingly, and Matau could tell he agreed with Onewa. The Turaga of Ice valued punctuality above all other things.
“Truesorry, brothers,” Matau said sheepishly, “but I’m here, and that’s what matters, isn’t it, Nokama?” he elbowed the Turaga of Water gently in the arm. She simply rolled her eyes.
“Looks like the Turaga of Air has too much of it between his ears,” she teased, “you may be late, but you are indeed here, Matau.”
“See? She agrees,” grinned Matau. Nokama smiled. It was good to know that, despite the pass of centuries, Matau’s youthful exuberance had not left him.
Matau cast his eyes around the crowd. “Say,” he started, “have Whenua and Vakama arrived yet?” he held out a silly hope that he wasn’t the last one to arrive, as he felt like engaging in some playful banter with the old firespitter, especially.
Unfortunately, that was when he spotted Vakama’s firestaff leaning against the lamp post. “Vakama and Whenua left to secure a closer vantage point,” Nokama said, “They thought you would appreciate it if you could see the event up close.”
Matau’s heart fluttered. “They would do that for me?” he asked, breathless with shock.
Nuju let out several short chirps before smiling. After spending countless years with the Turaga of Ice and taming flying Rahi on the Island of Mata Nui, Matau could understand Nuju’s preferred tongue perfectly. It was given, then, that he perfectly understood Nuju’s sentiment, and he had to fight down the urge to reach out and hug him. He attributed his oversentimentality to the awe-inspiring new chute station and the fact that it was Reformation Day, celebrating the reformation of Spherus Magna and the final defeat of Makuta Teridax.
Sometimes, on the darkest and coldest of nights, he would see crimson eyes swirling in his nightmares and bolt awake in a cold sweat. It often took gentle whispers from Turaga Nokama to coax him back into a restless slumber.
Before he could dwell on his uncharacteristic sentimentality or the recurring nightmares he’d been having over the last century, Vakama appeared in their midst, breathing heavily. Onewa grabbed his firestaff and thrust it into the Turaga of Fire’s hands.
“None are immune to the effects of time,” lamented Vakama once he had caught his breath, “crowds are for Le-Matoran, not the Turaga of Ta-Metru!”
“Did you find a new spot?” asked Onewa.
Vakama nodded. “Whenua is holding place for us, but we will have to wade to get there,” he motioned to the crowd, not bothering to hide the exasperation in his voice. Whenua’s drill could be seen poking through the top of the crowd; no doubt the Turaga of Earth was using it to show the other Turaga where he stood.
Nuju stared disbelievingly at Whenua’s drill and whistled lowly.
“Agreed,” said Nokama, “it’s a little far.”
“The view is spectacular, though,” replied Vakama, smiling at Matau. “We should get going… Can’t keep good old Whenua waiting.”
Together, the Turaga elbowed their way through the crowd to join Whenua. The spot he and Vakama had picked out was much closer to the spectacle than Matau would have guessed; close enough for the Turaga to see the foremen glancing between the crowd and their watches. He even heard one Matoran worker say to another, “the bosses are makin’ a show out of this, they ain’t lettin’ us start ‘til high noon.”
High noon struck, and an Agori foreman raised his arms, motioning for the crowd to be silent. “Gathered friends,” he boomed once the crowd settled down, “today we are to witness a momentous occasion in honor of The Great Reformation. Today marks the passing of one hundred years since the Great Spirit Mata Nui defeated the darkness and gave new life to the glorious planet we call home, and we shall rejoice with a new improvement to our great nation’s infrastructure! We will demolish the last of the scaffolding of the Mata Nui Chute System, named in honor of the Great Spirit!”
At the words “Great Spirit,” the assembled crowd burst into frenzied cheers. All present watched as the workers disassembled the scaffolding piece by piece. As the scaffolding grew smaller, murmurs of excitement hummed through the air. Whenua trembled where he stood. Matau’s eyes bulged, knuckles strained by his death grip on his Kaukau staff. In one hand, Nokama held Vakama’s arm, and in the other, she clutched at Matau’s robes, eyes fixed on the scaffolding. Tears dripped from Nuju’s ice blue eyes as he touched his hand to his heartlight. Onewa narrowed his eyes at the structure. Vakama held his breath. To each of them, the new Mata Nui Chute System represented a struggle that had taken place over millennia and shaped their universe, its history, and their very way of life up until a century ago. Around them, Matoran, Agori, Toa, and Glatorian cheered as the last of the scaffolding was taken down, but the Turaga were silent. Even Matau was speechless. The dismantling of the scaffolding brought no joy to their hearts, only a feeling of tiredness that no Turaga had experienced since they first stepped foot onto Spherus Magna.
Matau looked around at his brothers and sister, suddenly feeling like the beaten-down old fool he denied for so many years. He reached out and wiped the tears off of Nuju’s mask, which only prompted Nuju to let out a choked sob and clasp Matau’s hand. The Turaga of Air laid his arm across Nuju’s shoulders.
“Matoro,” Nuju said, his voice barely a whisper.
Vakama reached out towards Nuju. “We understand,” he replied.
One by one, the other Turaga joined the embrace as the memories flooded them. They stayed like that long after the crowd dispersed, holding each other in the shadow of the newly named Mata Nui Chute System Central Hub.
At the same time, outside of New Atero, Toa Takanuva stood on a Kolhii field. He might not be as good as Hewkii or Macku at Kolhii, but he had a very important appointment. He’d journeyed into the surrounding villages, Kolhii sticks in hand, to meet a couple friends, but none of them had arrived yet. He busied himself by drawing patterns in the sand with the scoop end of his Kolhii stick.
Finally, he heard shuffling behind him; the sound of somebody running across the dirt field. Takanuva turned to see Gresh sprinting towards him. They bumped fists in greeting.
“Hey,” said Gresh, leaning on Takanuva’s shoulder, “how’s it going?”
Takanuva huffed good-naturedly. “Well, I’ve been wasting away here, waiting for a Glatorian who can’t seem to keep time…” His jibe was met with a playful punch in the shoulder from said Glatorian.
“Like you’re one to talk,” Gresh smirked, “half the time, I’m wasting away, waiting for you! You just got lucky this time around. Are we still waiting on Jaller and Hahli?”
Takanuva nodded. “Yeah. You can’t really play Kolhii with two people.” He handed Gresh one of the sticks he carried. “Happy Reformation Day, by the way. Toa Tahu, Ackar, and Kiina are throwing a party over in New Atero to celebrate. Pretty much everyone’s going to be there tonight.”
“By that logic, I guess I’m going,” said Gresh. He rolled the ball towards him and began to dribble the Kolhii ball with the end of his stick. “You going with anyone?”
“What are you talking about?”
Gresh shook his head. “Never mind.”
Before any further misconceptions could be made, Jaller and Hahli raced onto the field. Takanuva bumped fists with them and handed them the sticks he’d brought, and they launched into a game: Takanuva and Jaller versus Gresh and Hahli. It turned out that Gresh and Hahli made quite the team, which took Takanuva aback more than the fact that Hahli would trip him up with her stick and steal the ball every chance she could. Looks like she’s been practicing a lot, he noted with worry. He was feeling a bit rusty himself; it had been a while since he’d last played Kolhii.
Gresh’s sharp eyes tracked the ball as Takanuva smacked it towards him, and at the perfect moment, he raised his shield, sending the ball flying towards Jaller’s side of the field. Takanuva scrambled to get on the defensive, hoping to stop the ball before it came too close to his team’s goal. Instead, another shot by Hahli left him sprawling in the dirt. As he rose, he met Jaller’s gaze, and they nodded. A split second later, Hahli sent the ball arcing towards Jaller’s goal. The Toa Mahri of Fire angled his shield and the ball ricocheted off it, heading towards Takanuva. He caught it in his scoop, then hurled it back towards Gresh, who raised his shield a half second too late. The ball bounced into his goal, giving Takanuva and Jaller a point.
Despite their initial lead, it was Gresh and Hahli who won, with a score of three to two. They gathered near the empty bleachers at the edge of the field, congratulating each other between labored breaths. Takanuva threw his stick on the ground and collapsed in the soft grass surrounding the dirt field.
“You’ve gotten too quick, Hahli,” Jaller said teasingly, tossing a handful of grass at the Toa of Water. “At this point, we’ll need the Vahi to win against you.”
Hahli laughed at his comment, but Jaller’s offhand mention of the Kanohi Vahi set wheels spinning in her mind. “Only fate knows where we could find it, though,” she said airily, “It was lost in the move to Spherus Magna, a hundred years ago…”
The atmosphere suddenly soured. “You’re right,” Jaller replied, his voice grim, “we have not heard anything about the Kanohi Vahi for the past century. There is something very wrong with that.”
Gresh nodded. “Time is a fundamental force of the universe. If it falls into the wrong hands…” He could not finish his sentence. He didn’t need to. Everyone present knew of Vakama’s discovery that the Vahi did not just control time, it held time together. How time existed before the creation of the Vahi, no one understood, but leaving such a powerful artifact unaccounted for a full century could have dire and devastating consequences.
“Haven’t they sent out search parties? We can’t be the first to realize how dangerous losing the Vahi is,” asked Hahli.
Jaller shook his head. “Diplomacy,” he said, “the nations formed quickly after Spherus Magna was settled… The Vortixx, the Skakdi, the Skrall… do you think they would have allowed Toa and Glatorian to search in their borders for one of the most powerful Kanohi to exist in history? Chances are, one of the neighboring nations has it, and they’ve been keeping it secret for the past century. I sincerely hope it’s not the Skakdi.”
Takanuva shook his head. “We would’ve ceased to exist long ago if the Skakdi had the Vahi. Either way, it rightfully belongs to Turaga Vakama… He was the one who forged it from the Great Disks and he is one of the few who knows its true power.”
The rays of the setting sun lengthened their shadows, and they realized that the sky was beginning to pinken. Gresh stood up. “If we’re planning on going to the Reformation Day party, we should catch the chute to New Atero now.”
“But, the Vahi—“ Jaller began to protest.
Gresh smiled. “Loosen up a bit, Captain of the Guard. Whoever has the Vahi hasn’t used it for a whole century… What’s one night, more or less?”
Lewa Nuva stood atop one of the towers of the Coliseum, the highest point in all New Atero. It was built to resemble the Coliseum that stood in Metru Nui and then some, featuring multiple towers surrounding a central tower that was easily over forty stories high. In this central tower, which seemed to touch the sky, Toa Tahu would meet up with Kiina and Ackar to discuss the management of the Agori-Matoran nation. Sometimes the other Toa would be present, other times the Turaga, who governed each district of New Atero. Tonight, though, the central tower was empty. Tahu, Ackar, and Kiina had shed the mantle of “leader” for the night to join their friends in partying down below.
He could hear the cheers coming up from the throngs of Matoran, Toa, Glatorian, and Agori in the streets, celebrating the centennial anniversary of the reformation of Spherus Magna and final defeat of Makuta Teridax. Even he was down among the crowd in the arena, mingling with his friends until a few moments ago, when the Coliseum had caught his eye. To give himself a breather from the crowd, he soared up to one of the towers. Even a partyfun Toa like me needs a little alone time, he reasoned.
Even though the central tower of the Coliseum dwarfed the one he stood on, Lewa could see for miles. If he reached up, he could brush his fingers against the stars that dotted the night sky. Gazing towards the horizon, he could see a strip of the great sea that was once the planet of Aqua Magna, the sea that the island of Mata Nui once floated in. The horizon behind him was edged with dense greenery, as the plains of Bara Magna grew into the largely unexplored jungle of Bota Magna.
He looked over his shoulder at the jungle, looking like moss on the horizon. It reminded him of home… Not New Atero, not Metru Nui, but the humble jungle village of Le-Koro, long destroyed and gone. He spent many happy days swinging from vines or leaping through the trees. Jumping from chutes and swinging from cables were fun, but he missed the feeling of green life around him. The supple bend of a leaf, the green-yellow light it cast on the jungle floor as the sun shone through it… he longed to see these things again.
He was startled out of his ruminations by the approach of another. Heavy footsteps clanked loudly up the stairs of the tower, which he recognized as belonging to Onua Nuva, Toa of Earth. Sure enough, a large black hand pushed open the trapdoor next to Lewa, and out popped Onua’s mask, lips twisted into a wry grin.
“What’s the King of the Party doing up here, all alone?” he asked teasingly.
Lewa shrugged. “The heavyweight of the crown gets to be too much for me to bearcarry, sometimes…”
Onua nodded, pulling himself up to the rooftop to sit beside his friend. “Understood.”
“What brings you up here?” asked Lewa, “if I recall correctly, you don’t find much happycheer in high places, either.”
Onua looked down and felt a queasy feeling spiral through his gut. “You’re quite right about that, brother, but…” the queasy feeling spiraled through him again, but for an entirely different reason, one he would never admit out loud. “I saw you up here, and I thought I should join you.”
“You look sickbad,” Lewa said, concern weighing on his voice, “let’s go back down.”
“I’d rather not climb those stairs,” Onua began.
Lewa smiled. “You deeptrust me, do you?”
“With my life!” Onua answered, a little too loudly.
Suddenly, Lewa grasped Onua around his torso, and before the Toa of Earth could protest, Lewa had sent them toppling off the building.
There was nothing for him to worry about, however, as Lewa triggered the power of his mask of levitation before Onua could open his mouth to scream. The power of the Kanohi Miru sent Toa of Air and Earth floating gently to the ground. They landed delicately at the very edge of the arena, the shadow of the tower hiding them from the crowd. Lewa took his hand and started for the party, but Onua pulled him back.
“What is it?” asked Lewa.
Onua looked at his feet, at the tower, anywhere but the Toa of Air. He’d known Lewa for at least a century, longer if he counted the forgotten times before they first entered the Toa canisters in Karda Nui. They had gone on countless adventures together, culminating in the completion of a shared destiny. He was filled with feelings too complex to be given a name, and the words died on his tongue when he realized that there were no words to begin with.
He shook his head to clear it. “Nothing,” said the Toa of Earth, mustering a smile, “let’s go join the others.”