Foxpassed: Your comment made my the day. To give the 19th century feel is among the goals of this fanfiction. I am glad that you have somehow felt it and salamat for the review. I have followed your comment and shall be editing the other chapters tomorrow.
E.M Praetorian: Salamat! I am continuing with it although I must admit that there will be some delays (perhaps one or two days) because life isn't all ribbons and laces for moi. Sad.
Anyway, I have left some information on Natsuki/Narcissa Kuga on the last chapter.
Salamat to all the readers and reviewers. I hope you enjoy this one. I actually enjoyed writing this chapter compared with the rest and I hope that you will pick up some things on Filipino religion as you read it. Bathala bless.
THE DICTIONARY IS NOW BELOW ZEH PAGE.
CHAPTER 3
COBLE STONE ISLANDS ON BLOOD SEAS (BATONG ISLA SA DAGAT NA DUGO)
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"Yep! Drowned himself to death. No doubt about it." Fransisco said as he puffed his tobacco and covered the corpse with a dirty white cloth. His thin pale hands wiped the blood and tiny bits of greenish intestines away from his collar.
The corpse had been reduced to a slimy mass of green and pinkish organs with purple veins. The floor was painted with red blood and brown mud. Some of the corpse's ribs were missing. The three guwardiya sibils had forgotten were they placed it. 'I think I threw it out of the window' Ramon said to Fransisco, and the two laughed.
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"We all knew he drowned himself from the start. Why the hell did we have to open him and turn him inside out?" Currito asked for he found this particular exercise disgusting rather than enjoyable.
"Hijo del Puta, Currito. You have such poor logic! Poor tonto! Tearing up this Indio is like digging for gold! Can't you see all the oro?" Ramon replied as his round eyes brightened and his beard stretched as the smile on his face grew wider. Fransisco had finished cleaning himself up and was putting on his dark blue uniform, slowly placing the golden colored buttons that had the seal of the Spanish king engraved on them into the small slits of the blue fabric.
"All I see is blood and shit." Currito retorted in a weak voice for he felt like puking at the sight of all the flesh and guts. He squinted a little and gritted his teeth. With his left hand, he began to play with the side burns on his face.
"Look alive now Currito. The governador will ask us why the monkey died and all we have to say is that he took in high doses of opium. He'll then send us to watch over those Chinese merchants. We'll put the blame on some ugly yellow dog and the spineless chingky eyed heretic will surely give us money just to avoid getting dragged into Fort Santiago."
"We'll just have to make sure Don Viola doesn't find out, right amigo?" Ramon said and he winked at Fransisco who replied 'Si' in his baritone voice.
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"Diyablos …"Currito mustered before he felt his lunch climb up from his tingling stomach and up to his esophagus until it reached his mouth and like a volcano erupting with hot orange magma, he spewed off a large amount of obnoxious smelling and gut-looking thick fluid. He fell unto his knees clutching his stomach. He gazed at the vomit on the floor. The chunks of undigested red meat were scattered all over the floor along with threads of a certain slick green substance. He then realized that he had created a miniature of the corpse on the floor. He vomited again. The miniature grew bigger. Now the room had three loathsome odors: decaying flesh, feces, and puke.
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Tondo, Manila.
The guwardiya serano's footsteps could not be differentiated from the hooves of a horse for he walked in such a fast paced manner, shivering as the dark foggy streets seemed to play with him, releasing dark silhouettes – creatures of the night, creatures created by the playful human mind and the murderous way of wind and night that sought to scare a man out of his wits, and they were all over Tondo – on the roofs peering down at him, hiding behind the tapayans, crouching underneath the trees or crawling under the slits of the wooden houses – ready to pull out his liver and devour his poor, poor helpless soul. He was walking alone in Tondo, where the penniless Indio was forced to live in, Tondo with its sinister fogs and dirty uneven cobblestone floors drenched in Indio's blood.
"Guwardiya Serano alas singko handado-o-o-o!!!" He shivered and wanted to shrink underneath the floor but remembering the many natives that they had slain here, remembering the countless bodies that were left to rot underneath the cobblestones; he prayed that the ground would spare him. And so he went on patrolling, clasping and almost crushing the rosary in his hand, praying that it would save him from the menacing shadows of the vengeful fallen Indios and the anitos that they often spoke of. And fearing ashamed of himself, he thought that the shadow were not the ones to be feared. It was the living that they should fear for as the heart beats, as the mind turns, as the body feels more and more suffering, the anger grows and overflowing, like the blood of the Indios that flowed and painted the walls of Manila two centuries ago, like the rough cobble stone streets of Tondo that floated like pebbly islands on the sea of natives' blood, It shall take its toll upon them and with bloody roar the Indios would arise, their blood boiling like molten metal, their eyes crying but no longer pleading for mercy to be spared from the whip and the musket, the tears no longer falling for their own salvation from the hellish inferno they had preached of. Instead, they will weep for the 300 years that had gone to waste – no progress but deterioration. Each new road taken brought them closer to damnation – and they too shall weep in anger for so great was the rage that had blossomed into the Indios' hearts, like the Nilad flowers that adorned the river Pasig – clustering together and sometimes covering the river with its thick petals that he often imagined that the Pasig was crying out for the Nilads to stop the torture, but the merciless flowers, both beautiful and wicked when angered, would only bury the river underneath their lilac and rose colored bodies even more – suffocating the body of water underneath as revenge for the Pasig's cruelty towards them. For the River often, with its waves, would remove an innocent flower from her sisters and place her in the muddy soil whereupon she would slowly wither and die.
'Just as the blood of Abel cried out to God' he thought, 'The Indio's blood is crying out to its God, Bathala.' And he shivered more as if feeling the fury of this strange ancient god whom the Indio's had claimed to create all things equally, this strange Bathalang Maykapal, the mother and father of the Indios, the mother and father of the universe, creator and destroyer of all, and fearing that since they have offended the Indios, Bathala would soon rise above from the mountains, soar high above them and strike them with thunder and crush them with the mountains. Or perhaps one day, Bathala would whisper into the Indios' ears 'Awaken and fight for I am with you!' for the Indios insisted that he took not the form of a man, unlike in their religion in which man was molded in God's presence, and the Indios' insisted that Bathala's beauty was nature's beauty and that upon meeting the omnipotent one face to face, all men, all beasts, all the anitos that dwelled everywhere and in everything would fall down on their knees and marvel at Bathala's beauty for his/her beauty is one that exceeds and encompasses all the beauties that are know to both mortal mind and eye. And when this happens, when the day of reckoning has come upon them and the Indio knocks at their doors in the middle of the night with blood shot eyes and with bolo in his hand, May God have mercy in their souls.
.
The wind was whistling the songs of the trees into her ear.
.
"Here are the names. Please, Narcissa-"
"Natsuki. Pouring water over my head doesn't change my name."
"Sorry…Natsuki, Please take care of them. The fate of the kapatiran rests in your hands." And with shaking hands, the man handed Natsuki an envelope. She took it from him.
"Don't sweat it." She assured the man and he nodded in response. He lowered the salakot unto his face that it almost touched the collar of his kamison de tsino so that his face was hidden by the shadow that the hat cast and after he bade Natsuki a very polite 'Paalam', which Natsuki returned with a husky 'uh-huh', he made his way towards the small boat and paddled his way into the darkness.
Natsuki took a particular papyrus-like paper from the envelope and read the names that were written on it with blood. 'Red…just like her eyes.' Her name was on it, written with her own blood and in baybayin, the ancient way of writing that she had grown in love with. She placed the paper back inside the envelope again, flicked her hair with her right and began walking away from the fog covered marsh.
Another day closer to getting revenge.
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The sun shone brightly from the window panes and this beautiful golden hue illuminated the cream colored room and the white sayas of the girls who were sitting on wooden desks while below the classroom, little school children were singing the school hymn: 'Collegio de mis amore, Concordia mansion querida!' gaily and with shrill little voices like birds out of tune. But they did not care anyway, as long as they recited the words perfectly, as long as they were happy, the song went on.
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"The necessity for a government is due to two reasons. The first is that man by nature is a social animal and he engages himself in social acts. By following his own good nature, which is to lead and live a social life with other social animals, needless to say, through socializing with each other, then there must be an organization formed in order for all the social animals to attain the common good that they desire."
The old nun looked around the room in search for a young face that showed even the tiniest bit of enthusiasm in the topic. Unfortunately, the sea of faces showed only that they were all bored to the point of ennui. Those who did not slouch on their chairs with half-lidded eyes and heads bobbing up and down due to weariness were either chit chatting with their seatmate. A loud mouthed girl in a yellow colored saya even had the guts to turn her chair away from the blackboard so that she may chat with the classmate who was sitting behind her. Without hesitation, the poor nun grabbed the large measuring stick that was resting on her desk and WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! The girls covered their ears. Some of them squealed in sheer terror as they raised their heads up to look for the three cannonballs that flew high in the air. WHAM! Another shot! But the cannonballs were nowhere to be found.
"Girls, Settle down!!!" the 'cannon' shouted at them. The wooden stick in her hand had broken into to two. 'Madre de dios, she is one strong old woman!' 'A martyr and an amazon!' 'It really was so loud! I thought if it wasn't cannon, it must've been gunshots!' the señoritas whispered into one another's ears. The formerly resting ones were now wide awake and straightening their slightly wrinkled sayas. When the noises had died down and the girls' attention were now focused on the nun as they stared at her with gentle questioning faces and curious eyes, the nun cleared her throat and spoke again.
"Now, what is the other justification for the existence of the government? Anyone?"
Not a single girl raised her hand. "…Anyone?"
She sighed in frustration. She knew who to call. She knew she would call upon the familiar name again, the familiar soft face and voice that had always answered her questions cogently and without fault.
"Señorita Viola."
Shizuru gently rose from her seat and smiled at the nun. "Yes, madre?"
"What is St. Aquinas' second defense in the existence of the government? Would you please tell it to the class?"
"The second justification on the existence of the government is related to Aristotle' view on monarchy. Like Aristotle, St. Aquinas believes that one man is born with virtue and wisdom that surpasses all the rest and therefore it is wrong to disregard his superiority, which every may benefit from."
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"Well said, señorita Viola." Shizuru curtsied and sat down on her wooden sit. 'she is amazing…' 'Not only is she pretty, but she's also very smart!' 'She speaks Latin, Japanese, Spanish Filipino and even English with ease!' 'She's perfect' They all whispered to one another. Shizuru kept silent as she stared at the blackboard with unblinking eyes, feigning her inattentiveness by occasionally blinking, when in fact, she was thinking of that faithful night when the moon shined brightly like a gold coin in the heavens, the stars twinkled more gaily than they usually did, the grass bowed before the river, and through mystic white foams and criss-cross patterns of the waves, there arose a shape so wondrous, so ethereal and so beautiful in every aspect that as she sat there, in the classroom, remembering the sight not meant to be seen by mortal eyes yet seen by her crimson ones, her hair stood on its end and she felt weak and drained of her energy.
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"Excuse me señor, but could you tell me what time it is?" A young teen-age boy wearing a cream colored barong asked an old man in a tuxedo. The old man took out the silver pocket watch in his pocket, looked at it for a few minutes for he had poor eyes sight, and confirmed:
"Alas Singko"
"Gracias Señor!" The lad said as he quickly darted away, looking quite awe-stricken. In his haste, he dropped one of the school books that he held in his hand. The old man did not see the book and so the book was left lying on the pavement. That was until slightly calloused fingers touched its dark brown cover, and then picked it up.
THE SOCIAL CONTRACT
OR PRINCIPLES OF POLITICAL RIGHT
JEAN JACQUES ROSSEAU
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Natsuki opened it and turned a few pages. A sentence caught her fancy: "Every law the people have not ratified in person is null and void — is, in fact, not a law." She kept reading on and kept agreeing to most, if not all, that was written in it. Realizing that she had now spent too much time standing by the corner and leaning on a brick wall, she folded the page that she was reading, closed the book, and went off, walking like alone wolf along pavement and passing the stylish houses of manila.
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Shizuru stood outside a music shop and although her back was turned from the crowd of by passers and bystanders, she knew that most of them were looking at her. And why shouldn't they?! Ay Caramba! She was a sight to behold! Perfect in every facet! Her looks had no parallel. Each and every movement that she made – her walk, the way she talked, and even the way she held her schoolbooks in her hand overflowed with grace. And they admired her and found themselves blessed to see her and thankful for her presence because, these few minutes of them standing there or walking by, even though she was meters away from them and gazing at some finely crafted violin displayed in the music shop's window, gave them enough time to have such beauty imprinted in their heads.
The violin was a Stradivarius made with excellent reddish wood. She had always wanted one and was a fairly good violin player although she was no virtuoso. She glanced to her right and lo and behold! Beauty meets beauty!
Natsuki was staring at a periwinkle colored Filipiniana displayed in a shop's window. She was imagining herself wearing this dress, this dress that she loathed so much, this perversion of the traditional saya. This - -
"Ara…do you like that dress?"
"No...Hindi ho." And she shook her head to show her disapproval. She was still staring at the dress and throwing mental insults at the inanimate object. "I was just…" She turned her head to her left and there was Shizuru in her white colored saya looking as beautiful as a goddess revealing herself to a mortal man.
"YOU!"
"Ara, how flattering! You seem to remember me well, binibini." Natsuki blushed furiously at the word 'binibini' for Shizuru had said it in such a sooty manner that it was as if…as if…was this woman courting her?!
"How can I not?!" She barked, turning her head away to hide her reddening face. The soft laughter of Shizuru sent shivers down Natsuki's spine for it was such sweet sounding music and it had sent Natsuki to blush an even deeper shade of red.
"You seem to like this dress."
"No, I already told you, I don't like it. In fact I dislike it intensely."
"Oh? Then why stare at it for such a long time?"
Her mind panicked. What was she to tell this mestiza? Was she to say to this woman that she thinks the dress is profane when in fact; Shizuru was wearing one, herself, although it was another type of dress. But why fumble for proper words anyway? Why? She is always blatant and bare-faced with her remarks, uncaring if it offended the person she was speaking to. 'To hell with decency!'
"I was just thinking about how ugly it is. That's all." She said in a low voice. The blush has disappeared from her face and the comment sent a pang of guilt burrowing itself down into her heart for reasons she could not comprehend.
"Is that so? You'll look good in it." Shizuru smiled at her. Natsuki's cheeks felt warm – a blush was making its presence known – AGAIN.
"It does not matter if you will wear one or not anyway since you are already looking quite dashing and undeniably beautiful in that sarong, binibini." Natsuki blushed furiously. What is wrong with this woman? But then she thought about this and then said to herself: is there really something wrong about this woman? Or perhaps, there is something wrong with me.
"Its also too expensive." Natsuki added.
"Oh! But I can purchase it for you if you want it. In fact, right now, I have enough money to buy - -"
"NO! huwag! Thank you, but no! I don't want it and I don't want you spending anything on me."
And then Shizuru opened her lacey abaniko and covered her mouth with it to conceal the smile on her lips, which was still quite evident with the slight rise of her cheeks and the sparkle in her red eyes that now, seemed to be like rubies to Natsuki, glittering with joy over what the Filipina had said. "Not wanting me to spend anything for her…oh you are too sweet, binibini"
"What--? Hu--? Ah--? Tek--" She sputtered out in disbelief and in embarrassment.
'Such a pretty color she turns to when aggravated! The natural and mild brownness of her skin is slightly golden by this afternoon sun and now, she is turning from red to pink and it all adds up to her beauty.' Shizuru said to herself and her eyes had now become serious as she was enamoured by the stuttering Natsuki, who was gorgeous despite her absurdity.
"It is because we are STRANGERS!"
"But we already met - -"
"Stop bringing that up!!!"
"And why not? You were such a beautiful creature under that – "
"STOP!" And Natsuki blushed a dark shade of red as she covered her ears with the book in her right hand, and the other ear with her left hand. She was not cruel enough to continue, and so Shizuru changed the subject. Natsuki's reply had just given her an easy way to get to know the young woman.
"Well then we should get to know each other. Tonight, the La Tranvia de Felipina is holding a party at Plaza Dilao to commemorate its 18th anniversary. I am cordially inviting you to attend, binibini."
"Do you own the company? I mean..important people are going to attend there right?"
"No, but my father works as an executive there." Natsuki gulped. 'Filthy Rich!'
"You can wear a sarong if you want. You look stunning in this elegant outfit anyway so there is no need for you to wear saya or a filipiniana."
Natsuki did not have even a minute to reply for Shizuru bade her farewell, insisting that 'She should be home by this hour', and Natsuki, still speechless stood there with only two words in her head, ringing like small bells that gave off pleasant 'ding-a-ding' sounds, and a warm buzzing feeling filled her inner nebula, and she mustered out with her deep husky voice, the two words that rang in her head, two words that for some strange reason seemed as enigmatic as the woman that said them was.
"Plaza Dilao…"
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And the wind was kissing her cheeks again.
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DICTIONARY:
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Hijo Del Puta – Son of a bitch!
Tonto – Idiot, stupid, mindless
Oro – Gold
Fort Santiago – The notorious prison and garrison used by all the bastards who colonized the country.
Amigo- Friend
Diyablos – devils/demons
Anitos – spirits or nature spirits that dwelled in all things related to nature.
kamison de tsino - a kind of long sleeved shirt worn by the men. This literally translates to Chinese Camison and it's difference from other long sleeved shirts is it's distinct Chinese collar
Bathala/Bathalang Maykapal – the creator and supreme god/goddess of the ancient religion of the Filipinos, mother and father of all.
Salakot – a huge round hat similar to the sakat
Paalam – farewell
Kapatiran - an organization; brethrenhood. It cannot be considered as a brotherhood since having exclusive male/female organizations was sexist and intolerable in the Traditional 'uncorrupted' (uncorrupted meaning that his/her ideologies and beliefs have not been affected by Spanish influence and sexism was among the very bad things that the Spanish left int he Philippines) Filipinos' minds.
Madre de dios – an expression that meant mother of god
Madre – mother/nun"Alas singko" – 5'o clock!
Gracias – thank you!
Hindi –No
Ho – similar to oho, it is a sign of respect. It is used when speaking to strangers (even if the stranger is the same age as the speaker) and when speaking with elders/adults. Using ho, oho, po, and opo in the katagalugans was a sign of good breeding, kindness, and deference. Anyone who does not use the afore mentioned words are regarded as brutes and ill-mannered.
Binibini – Charming maiden.
Huwag - Don't
Abaniko - a lacey fan with intricate designs. Usually, it has a famous painting imprinted on it.
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*Shizuru is of course, studying philosophy, among the very few courses taught to women in exclusive schools such as in "the Colegio De La Immaculada Concepcion De La Concordia" which was founded in 1868. Being a secular government, the educational system was still perpetuated by the church and so nuns are sent to teach in girls' school while priests teach at boys' schools.
*Natsuki's "Pouring water on my head" is of course, a reference to the baptism that she underwent. She obviously dislikes the name change...herherher...
*Plaza Dilao is now Paco and La Tranvia de Manila or the Comapana de los Tranvias de Feilipinas is among the first and most successful provider of public transport in the Philippines since it's opening in 1885.