Plumbing in Honolulu shows up on a slab or a single-wall board, because there is no basement and there is no freeze to explain it. Rust, a warm spot underfoot, and an ohana drain that gurgles when the main house runs are the usual stories. South-shore salt eats exposed metal. Valley rain imitates a leak at the door. Shut the main if water is running wild. Know where that valve sits before the floor is wet.
Coral and lava under this city make a new sewer or a shifted drain a digging job. Say if you need the layout changed or only the leak stopped. A cable is not a repair for a tie-in that was never vented when the ohana went up. Visible pipes in an old bath are a different access from a framed wall you have to open. Say which you have.
Water heaters in Honolulu closets and carports rust at the fittings while the air stays wet. Name gas or electric. Say if the ohana shares it, because two households on one tired tank is a morning problem, not a mystery. If a gas vent smells wrong, stop. Outdoor bibs seize from salt, not from cold, and a handle that will not turn is still a shutoff failure. Do not describe it as winter damage.
If the meter is still, look at the roof and at grade that sheds onto the slab, which valley lots and wind-driven doors both do. If the meter moves, the supply is open somewhere. Sort those before a wall is cut. A visible drip under a sink is a different urgency from a warm slab you have felt for weeks. Say which one is under your feet.
Say leak, drain, heater, or a valve that will not move, and the part of Honolulu. Say if rain is involved. Say if you already shut the main. A warm floor should be mentioned first if that is the clue. There is no thaw on the way. Call the number on this page.