Hi! I know it's been a long time since I've written anything for this fandom, but the idea for this ficlet popped into my head as I was trying to write a Star Wars fic. (That one might find its way onto this site ) All three of my Book of Life stories happen in the same sort of headcanon continuity.

As usual, Book of Life and all characters © Jorge Gutierrez

Adelita Sanchez perched on the top rung of the arena fence and stared absently into the empty ring. The late afternoon sun beat down on her and made her long, black hair hot to the touch, but she didn't want to find shade; she just didn't really want to move. Under normal circumstances, especially on such a beautiful November day, her mother's cousin Luis or her (second) cousin Carlos would have a fight around this time of day, but the people of San Angel were still figuring out how to handle news of the revolution, including the Sanchez family.

Carlos had accepted that he would fight if he had to, and her twin Scardelita seemed excited at the prospect of becoming a Soldera and had decided in less than a week that she would enlist, and even Luis had decided that he could fight, too. Adelita wanted to share in her sister's excitement; they enjoyed the same things, and they did everything together. In fact, the longest they had ever spent apart was a week (And by all accounts, it was the most miserable week of the girls' existence). But a force greater than the draw to her twin haunted her, something she didn't know how to voice. It had started to pull the twins further apart than they had been in all their seventeen years, and Adelita found herself alone at the ring more than ever, her twin's absence like a gaping hole at her side.

Perhaps she could sit there a few more minutes before heading back inside. Adelita knew that as soon as she hit the door of the Sanchez home her sister would be there asking whether she had made a decision or not.

She loved her family, but for once she wished she could talk to someone who wasn't so gung-ho to fight everything. Or at least, might think about it first. Adelita was about to hop off the fence and leave when she heard soft footsteps in the sand. She sighed loudly. Couldn't she have just a little time to herself?

"I haven't decided yet, Sca—" she turned around and stopped short. "Tía 'Nita, I'm sorry, I didn't notice—"

"Don't apologize," Anita replied as she forced her stiff bones to take a seat on the bottom rung of the fence, and rest a light wood cane on the ground behind her. She didn't bother looking up. "I can't look you in the eye when you're up there. Come join me… the weather's fine down here." Adelita slid off the fence rail, pulled her skirt under her and sat in the sand next to her great-aunt. Silence overtook them.

"You are your grandfather's granddaughter, aren't you?" Anita finally asked in a bemused tone, pushing her glasses up her nose. Adelita tilted her head. "He used to come sit here," Anita continued, "whenever he wanted to think about something, just like you. He said it cleared his mind." Adelita nodded. Anita looked her grandniece up and down. "It's not just that, though, is it?" she asked. Adelita shook her head and sunk back into the fence rung. A glance up and the younger Sanchez gratefully noticed some thin clouds moving over the hot sun.

"You don't want to fight," Anita noted matter-of-factly. Adelita jerked from the fence, as if the statement was an accusation. She stammered for an explanation.

"Well, It's not exactly that, I just—"

"That wasn't a question, mi'ja." Adelita sighed and glanced over to the swords on the nearest wall, then down to her lap.

"I mean, part of me does want to fight, because then I can stay with my sister… and we said we'd be together, no matter what," Adelita confessed. Anita sighed quietly.

"Your grandfather and I started bullfighting about the same time, but he never wanted to be a bullfighter," she said suddenly. Adelita glanced up and Anita continued, brushing a strand of silver hair back into her bun, "Jorge always wanted to sing in the opera. When we were young, his passion for music was greater than for anything else… and yet, our father's memory was enough to pressure him into bullfighting.

"I fought because I wanted to; he let someone else choose what he should do. It was never about what he wanted… Only what should be done, what everyone else thought he should do."

The sun shifted further across the sky and the shadow of the top of the arena just barely brushed against Anita and her grandniece. Adelita shifted and leaned back against a fencepost. She didn't know if that story was supposed to help or just make her feel more confused, but her great-aunt wasn't finished.

"Whether you fight or not is a decision I can't make for you," she added, "And neither can your sister. It has to be your own." She leaned her cane and stood up. "Whatever you pick, it'll turn out for the best."

Adelita turned her eyes to meet her aunt's gaze. With a slight smile, Anita turned her back to her niece the and shuffled towards the Sanchez home.

Adelita watched walk into the house and close the door behind her. The now blazing orange sun began to shrink behind the top of the arena wall and an early autumn evening fell upon the town of San Angel. She waited only a couple more minutes before following her great-aunt inside. Fighting was a serious decision, but one she decided she didn't have to make that day.

Thanks for reading! Comments and constructive criticisms are always welcome!