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Lo’ak realized how hard it was to be the older brother in the family. The moment when Kiri and Tuk first turned to him, expecting help and guidance the same way Neteyam used to give it, genuinely surprised him. How was he even supposed to know what to do? The weight of that responsibility pressed heavily on his shoulders, and he wasn’t even sure himself whether he was doing the right thing or not.
After his suicide attempt, Kiri started keeping a closer eye on him and where he was going.
When evening came and supposedly the entire Sully family had already fallen asleep, Lo’ak carefully got up from his hammock and stepped out of the marui. Kiri followed him, trailing quietly behind.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll be back soon. I wanted to meet Neteyam.”
Lately, Lo’ak barely smiled around his family. To Kiri, it seemed like he only smiled when Tsireya was around, but she pushed that thought aside for later.
“I’ll go with you. Keep an eye on you, just in case something happens.”
Lo’ak gave her a doubtful look.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m allowed to connect to the Tree of Voices now. Eywa doesn’t reject me anymore. So it’s time for me to meet our brother too.” She said, leaning against the entrance of the marui.
“Alright. If you want to. Let’s go quickly.”
They headed toward the tethered ilu and mounted their bonded ones. Even though an ilu could have several makto, and any Na’vi could ride different ilu or a tsurak depending on the situation, just like with a pa’li, the Sully family mostly used the same ilu they had received during their first training.
Neytiri, of course, still hadn’t quite gotten used to them.
They dove into the ocean, heading toward the Tree of Voices. After the last battle, many families had lost their loved ones, so the number of Na’vi connected to the tree by their kuru had only increased since Lo’ak’s last visit. It seemed as though the place was never empty, day or night, which was, in its own way, deeply sad.
Truthfully, Lo’ak would have done anything for the chance to bury Neteyam in the forest, the way he deserved. Lo’ak had adapted to life in Awa’atlu much better than he expected, so it surprised him that Neteyam ended up worse than him at least in that one aspect.
Overall, the underwater location of the Tree of Voices caused him great discomfort. Even though he had learned to hold his breath for longer, it still limited the time he could spend with Neteyam. Usually only a few minutes, which was painfully little.
For a brief second, Lo’ak thought that perhaps drowning during a connection with Eywa would be the easiest solution to this problem, but he quickly dismissed the thought after catching Kiri’s thoughtful glance.
He connected his kuru to the tree, and instead of cold water, he felt the rough bark beneath his fingers. It must have been a childhood memory, because when he looked up, he saw a small Neteyam standing on a branch above him. Wow, his hair hadn’t changed so much from that time.
“Are you stuck up there or something? Scared, huh? Chicken?” Neteyam teased, making chicken noises.
Once, Jake had spent an entire evening teaching his children about Earth animals. It was fun, even though Lo’ak barely remembered any of them except for chickens, horses, and whales (the first ones supposedly very similar to pa’li, according to Jake, and the last ones reminding Lo’ak a lot of tulkun).
“Come on, climb up already! Let’s jump!”
“I’m not scared of anything… I’m coming!”
Apparently, he had become a child too.
“Okay,” Neteyam said in a childish voice, which was actually pretty funny.
By the time Lo’ak climbed onto the branch, Neteyam was already his usual age. Lo’ak could’ve sworn his brother looked a bit shorter than normal, but the thought only made him sad, so he stayed silent. His expression must have said enough, because Neteyam noticed his sadness.
“Don’t be sad, little brother. I’ll jump first. I’m tired of waiting for you,” Neteyam said with a smile, full of energy that completely contradicted his words.
He laughed as he jumped down, softening the fall with large leaves. Lo’ak couldn’t help but follow, jumping after him just as happily.
Unlike his brother, Lo’ak landed poorly. Standing up, he rubbed his back, groaning in pain.
“You skxawng, how did you even manage to hurt yourself?” the older one asked, walking up to him, still smiling.
“I don’t even know!”
They stood there for a few seconds before Neteyam broke the silence, looking at Lo’ak sadly.
“Alright, Lo’ak. Tell me… how did I die?”
It felt like all the air was knocked out of Lo’ak’s lungs. He felt déjà vu from their last meeting. Fuck. Was this going to happen every time? Would Neteyam realize his death at each reunion?
“You were shot. With a gun.”
“Well, of course with a gun. Can you even get shot without one?” Neteyam replied jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.
Lo’ak couldn’t help but laugh and smiled.
“Idiot.”
At the mention of a gun, he involuntarily remembered the evening when Kiri and Tsireya caught him holding a shotgun. It felt wrong to hide that from his older brother, even though remembering that day hurt.
“Listen… you know, recently I… I tried to-” There it comes. “…return to Eywa,” he said, staring at the ground. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to look at his brother, feeling like a child being scolded by parents.
Almost immediately, he was nearly knocked off his feet as Neteyam hugged him, so tightly it became hard to breathe. Lo’ak hugged him back.
“Skxawng… how could you even decide to do something like that? There aren’t enough words to describe how I feel right now!”
He pulled back. “I swear, if the next time I see you in Eywa you’re not taller and older than me, I won’t forgive you. You better grow at least three meters tall, got it?”
“Bro, Tonowari barely reaches three meters, where would I even get that height?” Lo’ak laughed, imagining it.
“But seriously,” Neteyam said, “live this life without regrets, little brother. You still need to start a family with Tsireya, right, Lo’ak?”
“Bro!”
“Alright, alright, I’m joking. What I mean is, don’t dwell on the past. You can always come back and meet me. I’ll be happy to see you. But don’t forget that a lot of people care about you. Our family, Tsireya, your ikran, Payakan… Sullies stick together, right? Come on, repeat after me.”
Feeling embarrassed, Lo’ak still repeated it.
“Sullies stick together.”
“You know, I even managed to befriend Aonung. We’re on much better terms now. At least we don’t fight every time we meet.”
Neteyam’s death had brought them closer. Lo’ak thought of Rotxo, Neteyam’s best friend, and immediately regretted it. Neteyam and Rotxo were probably getting along well in Eywa.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Neteyam said, shrugging and glancing around.
“Oh, can I show you what I’m proudest of?”
That sad smile returned. They’re running out of time, Lo’ak could feel it.
“Alright. But faster, I think I-”
“I know. It’s near. Come here.”
Neteyam took his hand and led him through bushes and plants. Whatever it was, it really was close. Looking around, Lo’ak noticed nothing but a small pond in the middle of the forest.
“Look into it.”
Lo’ak knelt down and looked into the water, only to see his own reflection.
“I see you, Lo’ak.”
“Neteyam, wait-”
He felt himself involuntarily disconnecting his kuru from the Tree of Voices.
Kiri looked at him with concern, and he signed to her:
“I need some air. Come with me.”
She nodded, and they swam upward. Kiri held her breath far better than Lo’ak, no matter how much he hated to admit it. When he finally gasped for air, Kiri looked him over.
“You’re okay? Will you be able to look after me?”
“Of course I am. Just a lot to process. Let’s go.”
He gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulders and smiled. She nodded back, and they dove again toward the Tree of Voices.
Truthfully, as Kiri watched Lo’ak, she couldn’t help but think about what she was going to say to Neteyam. Her connection to Eywa was different from everyone else’s, so maybe this time, her experience with the Tree of Voices would be different too. She knew Na’vi could speak with their deceased loved ones, but usually they didn’t realize they were dead and didn’t remember past conversations. Their memories didn’t update. Still, she couldn’t stop hoping that maybe Neteyam would remember this time.
She carefully connected her kuru to the tree and felt the surroundings change, solid ground beneath her feet.
“Kiri.”
“Neteyam!” she exclaimed happily, jumping into his arms.
“Easy there… you almost knocked me over.”
“I’m sorry. I have so much to tell you. Listen-” she started frantically, but was almost immediately shushed by her oldest brother.
“Calm down. We have time. You don’t need to rush.”
“Except, we don’t! You know that right now you’re… you’re-”
“Dead? Yeah, I know.” Neteyam scratched the back of his head.
“…What?” She stared at him in confusion, not knowing how to respond.
“Your connection with Eywa is deeper than you think. I even know that Spider grew a kuru, which is crazy. Did you do that?”
“…Yeah, I did.”
“Who would’ve thought.” He shrugged and smiled at her tone.
“Uncle Tsu’tey is great, though. He and Aunt Sylwanin spoil me a bit. I also met tsahik Ronal recently with Rotxo. She seems much calmer than she was when we were at Awa’atlu, don’t you think?”
Kiri laughed at the image of Ronal. She really had been stressed the entire time the Sully family stayed there.
“Ah, I’m glad you’re doing well there, Neteyam.” She smiled and looked to the side, longingly.
“I rely on Spider and Lo’ak, and when I need them most, they’re always there. Every day I ask myself what would you do if you had more time… You could’ve done so much more if you only had time. I just- I think maybe there was some way I could’ve helped you, since Spider managed to grow a kuru… If only I hadn’t been captured that time by that son of a-”
“Oh, Kiri.”
She hadn’t even noticed the tears on her cheeks until Neteyam wiped them away.
“Come here, you wuss.”
“Hey-”
He pulled her into a tight hug, and she laughed. After a moment, he let her go and looked her in the eyes, smiling.
“I see you, Kiri.”
“I see you, brother.”
Suddenly, she felt very tired, and the surroundings grew blurry. The time had come.
“I can’t wait to see you again. I really miss you,” she said.
“It’s only a matter of time, sister. Be patient.”
She hugged him once more and felt herself disconnect from the tree. Kiri looked at Lo’ak, who seemed calmer and wiser than ever before. She would need to tell him someday what Neteyam had told her, his story- but it could wait.
The Eywa, in her kindness, had given her what she wanted most.
She had given her time.