Pi-ko-i, the Archer Boy

Pi-ko-i, the Archer Boy

Once on the island of Kauaʻi lived a boy named Pi-ko-i. His father was Ala-la, and his mother was Kou-kou. Pi-ko-i had grown up far from busy gatherings, so he knew little about the noisy games people played in the valleys. One day, a great cheer rose from below. “Father, what is happening?” Pi-ko-i asked. “They are playing olōhū,” Ala-la replied. “Two players roll stone discs, and the one whose disc travels farthest wins.” “I want to see!” “Not today,” said his father. “Your time will come.” A little later, a new roar of excitement drifted up from the valley. “What are they playing now?” “Pāʻē,” said Ala-la. “They send smooth sticks sliding down a grassy slope. The stick that travels farthest wins.” Pi-ko-i asked again to go down, but his father shook his head. The next day, cheering came for a third time. “That is kōhie-ʻie,” explained Ala-la. “A smooth board is set on the water near the rapids. It must ride the current steadily without tumbling away.” “May I go now?” His father smiled. “Now you may go. And not only to watch. You may try it yourself.” Ala-la carved a board for his son with his own hands. He smoothed its edges and gave it to Pi-ko-i. When the boy arrived at the river, a crowd had already gathered. Some people glanced at the unfamiliar child and whispered unkindly about his thin frame and tangled hair. Pi-ko-i heard them, but he said nothing. He simply waited for his turn. One board wobbled and disappeared over the rapids. Another spun in circles. A third washed straight to the shore. Pi-ko-i set his board on the water. It slipped into the current, straightened itself, and rested where the water ran strongest. It looked as though the river were holding it in an open hand. The crowd burst into cheers. “What a launch!” “The best yet!” But several older boys did not like seeing a stranger win on his first try. One snatched Pi-ko-i’s board and threw it beyond the rapids. Pi-ko-i could not bear to lose the gift his father had made. He leaped into the water to retrieve it. The current was stronger than he expected. It carried him farther and farther, all the way to the sea. Pi-ko-i clung to the board. Waves lifted him, lowered him, and turned him about, but he did not let go. At last, after a long journey, the sea brought him safely to the shore of another island. A man named Kaua found him there. Kaua was a kind servant to two women who lived nearby. “Where have you come from?” he asked. “From the sea,” Pi-ko-i answered weakly. Kaua gave him water and helped him to the home of the two women. “What is your name? Who are your parents?” they asked. “I am Pi-ko-i of Wai-lua, from Kauaʻi. My father is Ala-la and my mother is Kou-kou.” The women went still, then ran to him. “Little brother!” They were Pi-ko-i’s older sisters, I-ol-e and O-pea-pea. They had lived on the other island for a long time and had not seen their brother since he was small. The house became full of food and warm voices. Pi-ko-i rested, ate, and grew strong again. When his strength returned, he heard noise nearby and went to see what was happening. In the open square, archers were holding a contest. Prince Mai-ne-le was there, and everyone said he was the finest archer in the land. The archers had to send their arrows through small woven rings that hung at different heights. The prince’s arrow passed through ten rings in a row. The crowd roared with delight. Pi-ko-i watched carefully. Then he said quietly, “A good shot. But it can be more exact.” The queen heard him. “Can you shoot better?” she asked. “I can try,” Pi-ko-i said. They handed him a bow. Before him, they placed ten thin rings so that each could barely be seen behind the one before it. Pi-ko-i did not hurry. He felt the wind, steadied his breathing, drew the string, and let go. The arrow flew through all ten rings and touched a small bell at the end. It rang clear and bright. The square fell silent, then everyone began talking at once. Prince Mai-ne-le frowned. “A lucky accident.” Pi-ko-i only shrugged. “A good shot always looks like luck to someone who sees only the arrow and not the years of practice.” He did not wait for a prize. He went back to his sisters. A few days later, the king decided to build a great ocean canoe. The craftspeople went into the forest to find a mighty koa tree. But whenever they chose a trunk, two birds flew to its top and began calling loudly. The workers felt as though the birds were warning them that the tree was not right. One day passed, then another, then a third. The king became worried. He asked Prince Mai-ne-le to drive the birds away without harming them, so the workers could inspect the tree. The prince aimed near the branches, hoping to frighten the birds, but his arrows could not reach so high. Kaua heard about the trouble and thought at once of Pi-ko-i. “You could help,” he said. “Perhaps,” said the young archer. “But I do not wish to show off.” Together, they made a plan. Kaua carried a large woven basket into the forest, and Pi-ko-i hid inside. When the prince failed again, Kaua said, “Perhaps my young friend would like to try.” Pi-ko-i stepped from the basket. No one recognized the thin, tired boy from the contest. After rest and good food, he looked quite different. “Bring me a bowl of water,” he asked. The people were puzzled, but they did as he said. Pi-ko-i placed the bowl on the ground. In its still surface, the top of the great koa tree and the two birds were reflected. The young archer looked not upward but into the water. He raised his bow and sent two arrows one after the other. The first clipped a dry twig beside the birds. The second struck another branch. The birds spread their wings and flew to a neighboring tree, safe and unharmed. The workers examined the koa and understood why the birds had made such a fuss. The trunk was hollow inside. They chose another tree, strong and healthy, and the birds did not call again. “So they were warning us,” said the king. “And you are not only skilled with a bow. You can see what others miss.” From the good tree, they built a sturdy canoe. When it first sailed on the ocean, the king invited Pi-ko-i to travel with everyone. At court, Pi-ko-i was welcomed with honor. But he was happier than ever not because of the gifts or praise. He asked that Kaua, who had first helped him on the shore, be given land for a home and garden. “Without him,” said Pi-ko-i, “I might have remained alone on an unfamiliar beach.” The king agreed. In time, Pi-ko-i often visited the royal house. He became friends with the king’s daughter, and when they were both older, they chose to make a life together. As for Prince Mai-ne-le, he eventually stopped being angry. He learned a simple truth: someone else’s skill does not take away your own. It only shows how much more there is to learn. Pi-ko-i never forgot his father’s board on the rushing water, the long journey across the sea, or the bowl that reflected two birds high above the ground. And when people asked him the secret of a true shot, he would say, “First learn to see. Then learn to wait. Only then draw the bow.”

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨