The group of Gods quickly took sides over who they believed was in the wrong. Blame went both ways, but most could come to the conclusion that it had been taken too far and it had disturbed Batala for no good reason.
“How long until Lady Maliya returns to us as her true self?” The God of Rain and Sea asked. She had ascended into Godhood via Maliya’s blessing and had a soft spot for her mentor figure. She had attempted to cool both their heads before, but the Moon Goddess was intent on confronting Arangwa on the offensive, and now this was the result.
Nothing but a guilty conscience could loom over her head.
“Maliya is healing from her injuries, but she is a strong one. The strength she has will show itself over time. The only thing we can do now is wait for Maliya to return to the way she once was. Given the physical stature of this human, his body is weak. The stress the body endures means the lifespan of the human will burn out soon.” Batala’s words brought calm to the group.
Arangwa’s body stiffened and he narrowed his eyes at that statement.
The Gods all ate the rest of their feast with laughter and teasing, as a family does. The feast lasted throughout the night, with many of the gods drunk by the time Anuk Buwan returned to eat what was leftover. The group of Gods, now euphoric on their ceremonial cabo, yelled about how long they bet Anuk Buwan would still be alive for, some already throwing their bulawani into the circle with dissatisfaction. When Arangwa was pushed to do so by Kalu Tyan, he got up and left the room.
Over three hundred years passed, and Anuk Buwan still existed, fulfilling his job as the Moon God without complaint. In the beginning of his reign, every time a salukolu was called, and the Son of the Moon was expected to be in attendance, the Gods would wait with bated breath to see if Maliya had returned. A glass plate would be centered in the middle of the meeting table, surrounded entirely by the Gods, and the money pile would accumulate and grow each time Anuk Buwan showed up.
Anuk Buwan never grew to respect Batala as his Ama the way the others did.
The only other being he grew to respect was Kolupati, finding an unusual kinship in her that the other Gods could not provide, resulting in Anuk Buwan calling her nenei. That was, until he knew the truth about her human child she acquired.
The first summon for a salukolu called by Anuk Buwan brought only the three other Gods. He explained that due to his injury progressing, he would give up an extra few hours of moonlight when the seasons changed for Arangwa, as long as Arangwa offered the same courtesy during the winter months. Arangwa reluctantly agreed to this.
Kolupati had no sense for when she reached Anuk Buwan’s door, too deep in the memory before coming back to herself. Anuk Buwan ordered, “Come in.” She slid the screen door open and Anuk Buwan laid in bed, looking as peaceful as ever. His scrolls were sprawled out on the desk once she first walked in, and she noticed that he had been reading about the ascension ceremony before sleeping. His eyes were closed, but he still listened.
“I don’t know why you let him speak as if you’re below him.” Kolupati walked over to the shelf of scrolls and was intrigued by one. Her tone was even, calculating. She would not be the first to bring up the obvious. “He just hates that you’ve survived for so long. Byuhan’s lasted for—How long was it again, her duration period?”
Anuk Buwan grinned at her, pleased with himself. “A few months or a few years. I don’t know why it matters so much to you, he treats us all equally, nenei.”
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.” Kolupati leaned over and noticed his eyepatch was new. Anuk Buwan put his hand out to keep her away from him. “I am grateful for your presence tonight. His focus was on you instead of me. I was sweating, waiting for him to say something. I’ve never felt more relief to hear your name, dear Moon.”
“You have all night to worry about what he’ll say tomorrow, and we can set up our own deal before then. His purpose is to make you sweat.” Always the insistent one, Kolupati thought to herself that she almost didn’t catch what else he said. “May Batala be kind to you.” If he wasn't so...abrupt, with the way he spoke to her, she might have liked him more. But every word of his dripped with unclear intention.
Had he ever been kind to Kolupati?
It was supposed to evoke feelings of comfort when that phrase was uttered, but it only brought worry to Kolupati’s head, and Anuk Buwan planted this intentionally. She lingered in the doorway of the room, her eyes glancing once more over the scrolls he left open. He usually wasn’t one to let what Batala said get to him.
“You will never convince Libum,” she reminded him. "You'll be waiting for the crow to turn white until you die."
The Son of the Moon laughed. “If one gets drunk enough, they’ll lose their inhibitions. Give me time to convince you to hand him over. What will that boy amount to when the deity he’s tied himself to is gone?”
“You can get me as drunk as you want, you and I both know he’ll never agree to anything you offer to him.” Kolupati shut the door behind her and retired to her shrine. The agitated sound of Kolupati’s breaths were enough to reveal the anxiety rattling inside her. She planted herself in the middle of the hall and held her fist against her chest. Her fears expanded as they came with unwanted memories. She once feared Batala a century ago, but it was different now.
Her mistakes had brought the cursed human children into fruition, and her mistakes had made her ignorant of how much damage was in the aftermath of it all. In truth, Kolupati deserved to be struck one hundred times over for her errors.
May Batala be kind to you.
One could only pray.
In the dark crevices, spoken into her hand, she summoned a portal. As expected, it took some time for the cat to find her way through. She scratched between the ears, and the girl hummed pleasantly. “Hello,” she said, her tail swaying between her legs cautiously. “Don’t tell me I’m here to pick up more fish for you.”
“No.” She wrinkled her nose. “Last time, there were muddy paw prints on them. How is your sister?” Kolupati removed her hand and once she made sure that the two were alone, she heightened her voice. “There’s been no need for my underling to check on her as of late. She has more sense to keep those lives close to her than you did.”
The cat hissed. “When you allowed me to watch over her, I never imagined I’d just be a pet.”
“My intent is not to keep you around like that. I gave your sister your last life, and in exchange, you work for me. Now that I’ve summoned you, it’s time you keep an eye on someone for me.”
