#lakapati

Mapulon grew unsettled as he waited, wondering if he should venture into the village to check on the mortals. He had never actually visited their homes before, electing to merely observe from afar like every other god he knew, but it was unusual not to see anyone out in the fields by this time of day.

Before he could come to a decision, he suddenly noticed someone approaching a patch of herbs—as if the person had materialized out of nowhere. They barely paid Mapulon mind as they gathered the leaves. It was only after filling their shallow basket that they looked up, smiling at what was no doubt a bewildered expression on his face. Then, before he could say anything, the stranger got up and headed for the village.

It wasn't long before Mapulon followed.

He wasn't sure what exactly drove his feet forward—knowing there was at least someone to care for the villagers should've been enough to assuage him—but there was something about that warm, amused smile the stranger had given him. Something that made him want to see it again.

By the time he finally caught up to the elusive stranger, they had already entered someone's home. Mapulon remained respectfully at the entrance as they knelt by an unconscious old man's bedside, applying herbs to the red welts on his arms.

"Thank you," said a woman with a scratchy voice.

The mortal with the basket held it up in her direction. "You next," they said.

The woman shook her head. "I can tend to myself as long as you leave me some herbs."

The other hesitated. "Then take this too." They reached into their basket, and—somehow, though Mapulon hadn’t noticed anything other than the herbs in there before—pulled out a shiny ripe pomelo.

After more thanks from the woman, the basket-holding stranger went on their way, presumably to help the next household afflicted with illness. Mapulon was about to follow them again when the woman in the hut called out to him.

"You be careful out there," she said. "There's a sickness going around."

"Shouldn't you be more worried about the person who just helped you?" Mapulon asked.

Despite her obvious fatigue, the woman smiled with fondness. "I wouldn't worry too much about them. I don't think it's even possible for a god to get sick."

Mapulon blinked at her. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Oh, you didn't know? I assumed that was what brought you here. You may not guess it from the way they're always giving time to help us humans, but they're actually the deity of fertility," she said. "Their name is Lakapati."

The next second, Mapulon was running through the village and calling their name.

And there Lakapati was, coming out of a different hut. They turned their head at the sound of their name and smiled. But that same amusement from before had barely spread across their face before their body seemed to flicker, and the next thing Mapulon knew, Lakapati was gone.

—

The next day, Mapulon was determined to have a repeat encounter with his fellow deity. He returned to the same area, once again gracing the fields with his signature caress of rain. Then he watched over the dewy herbs, waiting for Lakapati to appear, but all morning no one came.

All the while, Mapulon kept thinking back to his brief encounter with them, and how kind Lakapati had been to the humans. Such kindness was a marvel that warmed Mapulon’s heart, and he realized that he wanted to be just like them. So instead of waiting any longer, he gathered an armful of herbs and made his way into the village.

When he stopped at the same hut as the day prior, the old man had what looked like a fresh layer of treatment on his arm, while the woman winced in pain as she tried to apply herbs to her own body. At Mapulon’s arrival, she looked up and managed a small knowing smile.

“If you’re looking for Lakapati, they’ve already gone,” she said.

“And you still wouldn’t let them treat you?” Mapulon asked.

She sighed and shook her head. “It would be a great help, of course, but I don’t want to take up too much of their time—especially when they’re the only god I’ve seen down here helping us so personally. Even being a deity, I’m sure there’s only so much one can do.”

Mapulon felt guilty then, for all the years he’d thought it sufficient to support the humans from a distance.

“Then from now on there shall be two,” he declared. “And I swear as the god of seasons that you will be cared for.”

The woman’s eyes widened at his revelation. “M-Mapulon?”

He smiled. “That is my name,” he said. “May I ask yours?”

The simple question seemed to calm her down a bit, and she answered, “Dalisay.”

“Well, Dalisay, you look like you could use some help.”

And so Mapulon helped treat her welts, before moving on to another household with a promise to come back the next day. He made his way through the rest of the village, making sure everyone got what they needed. In many places, Lakapati had already satisfied all their needs, but there were others like Dalisay who could use the extra care. So Mapulon put himself to work, as he did every day for several weeks.

Then one day, while helping Dalisay care for her father, Mapulon looked up to find Lakapati watching him with a radiant smile on their face.

It was the sight Mapulon had so longed to see, and it filled his heart with a rush of warmth. He immediately knew what he wanted to ask Lakapati. And at Dalisay’s approving nod, he got up and went to join them.

—

It was dark out by the time they were done helping everyone, and the two deities settled into a leisurely stroll.

“It’s good to see someone else so dedicated to helping these people,” Lakapati said. “When we first met, I wasn’t sure you had such kindness in you.”

Mapulon grinned at them. “Well, I did have someone to inspire me. In fact, I was hoping…”

Lakapati raised an eyebrow at his sudden hesitation, and he sat down on a nearby rock, looking up at them sheepishly.

“I was hoping I could court you,” he said.

The surprise on Lakapati’s face soon gave way to a deep-set frown. “I’m not sure I’d want to be in that kind of relationship,” they said.

“It doesn’t have to be now. I’m willing to wait—however long it takes.”

But that only made things worse. “As if it’s a given that I should fall in love with you?”

“I only thought-”

“I know what you thought. You thought the same thing as everyone else.”

And with that, before Mapulon could respond, Lakapati was gone.

—

Mapulon was beside himself with regret as he ran through his memory of the conversation. He didn’t know what went wrong, only that he wanted to make things right as soon as possible. He needed to find Lakapati before night’s end.

So he asked around among the villagers—among his new friends—and he figured out where Lakapati usually retreated to. Relief flooded through him when he found them at the lake.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” Mapulon told them. “I shouldn’t have assumed anything.”

Lakapati looked up wearily, their brown eyes reflecting the soft glow of firefly light. “It’s normal to assume,” they said. “But I… I don’t know if I can feel the kind of love that comes with courtship. I think I may be missing something.”

“Missing something?” Mapulon shook his head. “You’re more full of compassion than any deity I know. If you never find someone you wish to marry, it can’t possibly be because you’re lacking in love. Your love just happens to be different. Special.”

“Special enough that you’d wait an eternity? Even if there’s no guarantee I’ll ever marry you?”

“If you think there’s any chance, then yes. But if not, or if it doesn’t end up happening…” Mapulon shrugged, offering a lopsided smile. “Then I’d be more than happy to have you as a friend.”