It is not unknown to anyone that Xibalba had no love for children. He didn't even like children in his presence, he found them to be annoying, bratty and irritable. La Muerte did not think like this, however, and she actually loved to be near them. She was always so especially kind with children, sometimes she'd even take them into their carriage for a ride, among other things. Children were afraid of him, anyway, due to his intimidating appearance and their knowledge that he despised their kind. What children did not know was that the actual reason he disliked children was because of the loss he and his wife suffered, their first child, which gave them lots of hopes and illusions, was a stillborn. It still hurt, and being around children reminded him of what he had lost and would never had. He had heard from Akhushtal that neither he nor La Muerte would be able to conceive again, so it was better not to get his hopes up just to have them smashed again. Even though they reconciled a few months ago, he still didn't mention anything of this topic to his wife, afraid to reopen old wounds.
When La Muerte was busy in the Land of the Remembered, surrounded with children and many other of her subjects, Xibalba often went out for a ride on his horse to the Land of the Living, in human form. When disguised Medianoche looked like a regular thoroughbred Friesian, but when by himself Xibalba took a different form. He disguised as a man in his forties, with green eyes, white hair and his beard and moustache unchanged. His outfit consisted of a black pants with a black belt with a large silver buckle, black shirt worn underneath a black trench-coat with purple lining going down the sleeves, and black booths with silver plates, often he wore a dark mask-like scarf to cover half his face up to his nose. He kept his gloves intact, the least thing he wanted was to kill a human with a touch of his hand. Even in human form that power still remained.
His favorite place to go spend his time while La Muerte was busy was a bar in San Ángel known as 'El Solitario', where he often went to take a good shot of tequila. He didn't talk much with others, in part because his very presence was intimidating, everytime he stepped into the bar everyone went quiet and glanced at him warily before returning to their business, so he was simply known as Mr. Sevillo, or the 'Black Rider'. Being an immortal being, he did not get drunk s easily as humans, he wasn't happy to say he had unpleasant experiences with drunken men who tried to pick a fight with him. Poor devils, they didn't even stand a chance.
Tonight, after paying for his drink as usual, he went back outside, Medianoche was tied to a post where other horses were also waiting for their owners to come out. Untying the reins and checking the saddle to make sure the harness was properly adjusted, Xibalba decided to take a look around San Ángel. It had been months ever since he was here, he had been so busy making up for lost time with his Muertita. He climbed unto the saddle and pulled up his scarf to conceal his identity, before kicking his horse into a walk, leading him through the streets of San Ángel. Most of the people seemed to be doing just fine, most of them avoided getting in his way, in fear he might do something to them. He could care less about what they did, though; as long as they did not bother him he would be fine.
On the plaza, he glanced up at the statue of Capt. Mondragon, his previous champion before Joaquín, holding up the sword he had lent him once. On one of the benches, he spotted a very familiar couple, smiling and cooing down at a small gurgling bundle in the woman's arms. The sight made his heart churn, that would have been him and La Muerte if only… Xibalba couldn't stand watching them, so he turned his horse around and trotted in the opposite direction, wanting to get away from it as soon as possible.
He was half-way from the entrance of San Ángel when suddenly a small figure ran out of the shadow as quick as his feet could allow him, so scared he did not notice the rider trotting down the street. Xibalba reacted and quickly pulled on the reins, making Medianoche rear up and neigh in bewilderment just as the small figure tripped in front of him, and looked at him in fright. When Medianoche soothed down, Xibalba glared down at the boy.
"Look where you are going!" he snapped. "You're going to get killed!"
The young one was frozen in fear, trembling as if he were in the coldest winter night. "I'm s-sorry, mister…" he stuttered. "I d-didn't… I was j-just…"
"ALEJANDRO!"
Xibalba turned towards the source of the voice, and heard footsteps echoing in an alley. The boy gasped in fear and immediately stood up, but before fleeing he looked back at the disguised god pleadingly. "Please don't tell him you saw me!" with that he was off.
Xibalba had no idea what was going on. Just as the boy disappeared behind some crates, a man stomped out of the alley. He was apparently drunk, he could feel the scent of alcohol on the human. He looked up at Xibalba with crazed, angry and disorientated. "You, have you seen a boy around here?" the man managed to speak, trying to sound menacing in his temporal insanity caused by the alcoholic beverages.
Subtly, Xibalba glanced at the crates where the boy was hiding, his hold on Medianoche's reins clenching as memories returned to him. This scenario was so alike to him. Out of sudden he couldn't help but feel some sympathy for the boy.
"No." he said after a while. "I have seen no children around here."
The man didn't buy it. "You lie. I saw the boy running through the alley, I know he's around here."
"Even if he were, I did not notice. I was just passing by."
"If you're lying to me, I'll kill you-!" the man froze when in the blink of an eye the black rider unsheathed a sharp sword and the tip of the blade pressed against his neck.
"You better watch your words." Xibalba hissed, narrowing his eyes warily. "You don't know who I am. My blade has taken the life of many people, and it could be no different this time. So go back on your way and do not dare to bother me again. Understood?"
Despite his previous attempt at bravery, the man was soon to show his true colors of cowardice as he turned around and ran, or rather stumbled, back down the alley. When he was certain the man was gone, Xibalba slid his blade back into its sheath and turned towards the crates. "He's gone, boy."
The child whose name was Alejandro peeked up his head from his hiding place to make sure the man was gone for the time being, and when he did so he came out of hiding and approached the side of the stranger's horse to look up at him. "Gracias, señor." He said with a tiny voice.
If his scarf was not concealing Xibalba's mouth, Alejandro would have seen a small smile. "Don't worry about it, boy. Just try not to get into trouble this often, okay?"
Alejandro looked down. "But I can't go back home to him. He's going to…" Alejandro's eyes swelled up with tears. "I have nowhere to go…"
Xibalba thought for a moment, before searching for something in the pouch of his trench-coat, a pouch with money-a god had little use for it, but unfortunately things in the Land of the Living were not for free- and handed it down to the sobbing boy. "Here."
Alejandro's eyes widened. "S-Señor… I c-can't accept it…"
"I insist, child. You can use it to rent a room in the inn, I don't mind. Consider it a gift."
An indescribable feeling overcame him when he saw Alejandro's eyes lit up in gratefulness as he accepted the pouch. "Gracias…"
This time, Xibalba did give the boy a smile. "You're welcome." With this, he kicked his horse into a gallop and rode across the bridge, disappearing into the dark of the night.
La Muerte would be wondering where he was.