A/N: Hey guys!

Quick update about a detail I've changed: I decided to stick to the ages Miguel and Rosa have in the film, so now they are twelve and thirteen respectively. When the story started (one year before the movie) they were eleven and twelve.

I realized that my modified timeline was somewhat complicated and actually unnecessary. Apologies for this confusing aspect!

Because this chapter is the first one to "enter the events in Coco", there will obviously be some lines taken directly from the movie. I do not take credit for those, they rightfully belong to Pixar.

That being said, enjoy!

Chapter 7

The search

"I found your son in Mariachi Plaza." Elena announced in the workshop.

His father sighed, his brows furrowed. "Miguel…"

"You know how Abuelita feels about the plaza." Luisa said.

"I was just shining shoes!" Miguel stated in his defence.

"A musician's shoes!" Tío Berto let everyone know at his sobrino's expense, and the boy cringed as the Riveras gasped, Abel losing his grip on the shoe he was polishing, which ended up lodging in the ceiling.

Miguel jauntily continued, getting off his chair and straining to alleviate their suspicions: "But the plaza's where all the foot traffic is."

"If Abuelita says no more plaza, then no more plaza." Enrique scolded, pointing at his son with one of his tools.

"But what about tonight?" the boy blurted out.

"What's tonight?" Papá Franco questioned as Miguel's parents looked puzzled.

The twelve-year-old boy rubbed his hand, suddenly nervous. "Well… they're having this talent show, and I thought I might…"

Rosa noticed Abuelita pucker her lips, her eyes squinting in scepticism.

"Sign up?" Luisa completed, slightly unsure yet inquisitive.

"Well… Maybe?"

Worried that he might get himself in more trouble than he already was in, Rosa decided to speak up.

"You have to have talent to be in a talent show." she mocked as she placed a small box of utensils back in its spot.

"Yeah, what are you gonna do, shine shoes?" Abel joined her teasing, but grunted when the shoe stuck in the ceiling collided painfully with the top of his head.

Although she hated when her loved ones suffered, Rosa couldn't help but smirk at him.

Miguel shook his head with an undisturbed smirk of his own.

"It's Día de Muertos, no one's going anywhere. Tonight is about family." Elena placed a pile of marigold flowers in his arms, and he spat some petals out. "Ofrenda room, vámonos!"

…

Later, Rosa knew where to find him. It was usually between lunch and evening that he went to his hideout. And even though she was no longer welcome there, she had to speak to him. Urgently.

After she squeezed herself in the attic and dismissed the familiar atmosphere which awoke memories she didn't wish to relive for the umpteenth time, she heard Miguel's voice: "No more hiding, Dante. I gotta seize my moment!" - Dante barked. - "I'm gonna play in Mariachi Plaza if it kills me!"

Exactly what she'd been dreading. She had no clue how her cousin had finally mustered that audacity and bravery, but this time, he sounded sure of himself, confident even. He wasn't the frightened, nervous child anymore, the way she'd witnessed him act only a year before.

How much more had he changed after she'd given up on music and after the crumple of their relationship?

Rosa drew the black hanging aside, kneeling down, and Miguel froze, grasping a flyer about what was possibly a musical talent show taking place in the plaza, which he'd mentioned earlier. Dante, on the other hand, approached her. She dodged the dog's sloppy tongue when it ungracefully aimed for her cheek.

Miguel appeared to lose tension. "¿Qué es, prima?"

At least he didn't sound angry or upset.

"Miguel, I want a minute with you. Before you kick me out, I want you to hear what I want to say."

"Go ahead and I'll see about that last part."

She sighed. "Primo, please don't do it. Don't go! It's not gonna work."

"Yes, it is! Just because I failed, you failed and we failed before doesn't mean it's impossible. This is what has been missing all along, Rosa, no puedes entender?! We've tried to prove our point about music, but we've never shown them how beautiful it really is."

That is the craziest idea you've ever had. Rosa wished she were able to voice, but refrained from doing so because the last thing she wanted was to upset him again, especially when he was so truthfully filled with mirth. Around her.

"I've been imagining this moment my entire life, and for some time, you have too. Prima, my gut tells me this is what we've been waiting for. Tonight could change so many things!" He grew more exhilarated by the moment. "I just have to go there, and when they'll come to search for me, I'll belt out one of De la Cruz's songs."

"Miguel, this isn't a great idea. I frankly believe they won't mind your efforts."

"Just wait and see for yourself then, if you're so smart." he immediately retaliated.

Keep your cool, Rosa. You don't wanna argue with him. She repeated as she read the flyer he was clutching. She tried once more.

"You can't just leave, primo. Abuelita will be raging mad. And everyone will be worried about you."

"Not for long."

"Sé, pero what if they'll take away your guitar? There's no way you can know for sure they'll listen to you sing. You already got caught at the plaza today; going there again won't do you any good, especially if they see you on stage. You remember what happened with Tía Gloria that day."

It wasn't a question. His brows knitted, and she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"What if they find out about this place?" She gestured around.

That scenario visibly chilled him to his core. He shook that nightmare away.

"That. Won't. Happen."

"Miguel-"

"Rosa, por favor! My mind is made up." he resolutely rebuffed.

She failed. Again. Dios, did she suck at this! Exasperating.

She headed to the exit, but Miguel remarked, his arms crossed: "Funny of you, to say I don't have talent."

Rosa pivoted to face him. "Funny of you, if you believed me. I only wanted to help you by trying to make them think you don't have what it takes to go along with that half-witted, mindless idea of yours."

"I'll prove how much I've practised and how talented I am." he riposted, somewhat conceitedly.

She shook her head, already turning away from him. "You don't need to prove anything to me, Miguel. You already have. More than you know. Just… be careful, alright? ¡Y buena suerte! I'll be here if you need me. I'll always be."

She returned to the compound, her mind racing.

But you haven't been there when he needed you, haven't you, idiota? Not for long, that's for sure.

At this point, Rosa couldn't even tell if she was still optimistic that he'd taken her words seriously. She wouldn't blame him if he couldn't, though.

She considered snitching on him to the family, but that would only worsen things from so many points of view.

All she was capable of doing was praying he wouldn't get in too much trouble that night.

"Abel, do you think music is truly bad?"

They'd had this conversation plenty of times, with Miguel included, when they'd used to sneak into one another's bedrooms to have fun sleepovers in secret (which they still did sometimes). They'd hung out together and debated the reasons and the consequences of the ban. Naturally, their younger cousin had always stood for music, while she and Abel had never been able to embrace one side to a full extent.

The siblings still doubted the righteousness of the generations-old rule, but their respect for their common ancestors had always been more deeply ingrained in their souls than it was in Miguel's soul. Both of them loved music, perhaps as much as their intransigent primo, but neither had Miguel's exceeding stubbornness, defiance, nor fierce determination (that was the reason Rosa had eventually given up on the art, after all). Therefore, the two of them preferred to put family above their enjoyment of music.

Her nineteen-year-old brother regarded her with pained eyes. He checked their surroundings before lowering his voice to a whisper.

"No, Rosa, I don't think it is. I know you believe the same thing. It was Mamá Imelda's husband's decisions that led to what happened, not music itself. I guess she tried to cope with the pain by setting this rule, and somehow, it's understandable, but…"

"But it's hurting all of us, especially Miguel." she worriedly completed, double checking it was safe to discuss this now.

"Poor Miguel, he can't go a day without being scolded for tapping a finger or humming." Abel was blue. "We used to mock him for always getting in "musical" trouble, but honestly, haven't we been in the same situation for years, Rosa? We're just… a little better at hiding it."

"Maybe… But he is the one who's truly brave."

"What do you mean?"

Rosa inhaled sharply. "Miguel has been learning to play the guitar for years."

"¿Qué?" He gasped. "How?"

"Two or three years ago, he found a broken, abandoned guitar in some trash on the street."

"What was he doing near the trash?"

"No lo sé, but he could have been looking for a broken instrument. The point is that he managed to repair it quite expertly, and now, the guitar sounds perfect."

"Huh, I guess he kept borrowing all sorts of tools from the workshop and suddenly became interested in watching Tío Enrique repair shoes for a reason."

"Exactly!"

"And how long have you known this?"

Rosa faltered. She hoped he wouldn't get mad at her. She told him everything that had happened in the span of a year.

By the time she finished, she went quiet because of the sore memories, curiously awaiting her brother's reply. Abel was contemplating her words, every single thing she'd let on to him. Five minutes of placid silence passed before he spoke again.

"Rosa, this is…"

"Very much to take in, I'm aware. I haven't told you because… because I was never really sure that me pursuing music was a good thing. I didn't wish to rope you in something so risky, and looking back, I think it's better that I didn't. It cost me my relationship with Miguel, while you're still on good terms with him."

Abel searched her eyes. There, buried deep enough that only the ones who knew what she'd been through could notice it, was the throbbing pain which had been soaring in almost eight months. It was mainly sourced by the feeble status of her and their cousin's relationship, but also because she'd left behind something she'd been loving her entire life for the sake of respecting the family and the sacred rule.

"If I hurt you by keeping this secret, given that we've always wondered about music, I'm very sorry, hermano. It wasn't intentional. I was scared and foolish. I'm not as adventurous as I thought I was."

Her brother studied her seriously.

"I don't blame you, hermanita. Although I would've liked to know, I think you're right. In a way. And you said Miguel keeps playing music, right?"

She nodded.

Abel sighed. "Music got you in trouble, and it got him in trouble way more times. Maybe it's better to stay away from it. It's like whenever anyone in our family is around it, something bad happens."

"Even so, our primo's been keeping his secrets for years already."

"That may be true, but… Maybe I could change his mind."

Rosa's eyes went wide. "No! Don't do that! It'll only worsen things. He's already planning to take part in that "talent" show tonight, which is actually a music competition. If he realized you know, he'd get mad at both you and me."

"For heaven's sake! I'm his cousin, just like you!"

"I know, but just… just don't do it, okay? Let's try to be peaceful and friendly with each other on this day, free of arguments. Promise me!"

Reluctant, Abel promised.

"And don't go behind my back to talk to him, alright? I tried so many times to bring him on the right path, but he's far too stubborn to persuade."

"You're right about that. But I'm afraid it'll eventually catch up to him. And Abuelita… won't be happy."

He shuddered while Rosa shook her head to clear her thoughts of the nightmarish scenario. Miguel might be resenting her, but the last thing she wanted was for him to be deprived of the immense joy music brought him. His biggest joy, greater even than the gratefulness and delight for his own family. She ignored the hurt that particular belief caused. She could tell her brother was feeling the same way after she'd bestowed every minute detail to him.

"Why did you tell me this, Rosa?"

"Because… although it's been nearly eight months since I cut out music from my life… I just don't know anymore. I mean, yes, family is the most important thing in the world, but… while I was learning the violin, I sometimes felt that if we are careful, music won't tear our family apart. And Miguel… music makes him happier than anything else; I don't want to imagine how he'd feel if he was forced to give it up. So... Now I'm just more confused than ever."

Abel was lost in thought. She didn't know what kind of response to expect from him.

"You could be right. But…"

"I could also be wrong."

"Yeah…"

Abel had never seemed so hunched by a problem. He was an energetic, lively spirit, more like Miguel in attitude and more like Rosa in the analytical process.

A grin suddenly grew on his features, crinkling his eyes. "Let's cheer up, hermana! ¡Hoy es Día de Muertos! We should enjoy it as much as we can. We'll think about this stuff on another day. Let's go eat some conchas and chamoyadas. Abuelita will make more later anyway."

With that, he trailed her to the kitchen. He wanted to get her mind off those preoccupations and help her to enjoy the celebration. He'd do anything to lift her spirits and make her get rid of her worries, even if just temporarily. He was her older brother, that was his job. Besides annoying and teasing her all the time, of course.

"Miguel will be alright, trust me. It could be just a phase."

Rosa knew this was the manner her brother sometimes coped with distress and weathered the storm. And in this case, she was a part of it. He chose to put on a smile and do something to distract himself from the matter. He took after their father regarding that trait.

She allowed him to engross her in all sorts of conversations as they were eating the confectioneries: from fútbol, to classmates, then to shoes, the ofrenda, corny jokes and so on.

Throughout all of them, Rosa found herself laughing along.

Rosa didn't pay much heed to what her cousin did after their meeting, being busy aiding with preparations for Día de Muertos. She helped with the cooking, bringing flor de muerto and calavera de azúcar to the four-tiered ofrenda,hanging papel picados, sweeping the courtyard, and ushering Manny and Benny from the street dog Dante, whom Elena chased away with her chancla after he'd stealthily stolen a tamale.

The girl couldn't choke back her amusement at that. She'd gotten to know the perro enough that the animal reminded her of Miguel's mischievousness.

After the talk with Abel, she felt somewhat more light-hearted and was able to enjoy the prosperous afternoon and the rousing evening. By the time the sun almost set, she was content that the night was going to be an amazing one, even without music. She'd spent nearly all Días de Muertos without it, why would she have missed it anyway?

She foolishly thought that Miguel had renounced his ideas and was planning to spend the whole night with them, free of the dreams which threatened to split him apart from the family. Día de los Muertos was all about family and reuniting with loved ones. Maybe she and her cousin would finally reconcile…

Only for fate to make a fool out of her.

She was talking to Tía Gloria when Miguel suddenly emerged onto the rooftop, a knee-length, brown apron encircling his neck, his homemade guitar in one hand and Mamá Imelda's ofrenda photograph in the other hand.

The apron in particular revealed to Rosa that Abuelita and Miguel's parents had decided to have him learn to make shoes at last, which she'd also started doing a few years ago. The guitar though…

No! No, no, no, no, no…

"¡Mamá! ¡Papá! It's him! I know who my great-great-grandfather was." the boy yelled down at his puzzled, worried parents.

"Miguel! Get down from there!" Luisa called out.

Yeah, primo, get down! Rosa found herself unable to speak, terrified that he'd just blown his years-long cover. She wanted to tear her hair out. She gestured wildly to him to keep his mouth shut, but he didn't notice her.

"Mamá Coco's father was Ernesto de la Cruz!" he proceeded to let out his fire.

"What are you talking about?" Enrique questioned, baffled.

"I'm gonna be a musician!" Miguel exclaimed delightedly as he took off his apron.

No, no, no!

How could he have done such a naive, such a stupid, thoughtless, reckless, impulsive thing?! And what about the relation to De la Cruz? How on earth had he concluded that?

Rosa could only watch as he was forced to come down onto the ground, where Elena snatched his guitar and made him tell them everything. Everything… From his secret hideout to all that he'd gathered there. Enrique climbed into the attic and brought down his record player, CDs, tapes and magazines.

All the while, Miguel was silent, a look of pure terror and desperation covering his face. He tried to lie that he didn't possess anything else but the guitar, but no one bought it. He stayed aside, his head stooped as Luisa and Gloria made sure he wasn't injured before admonishing him about climbing onto the top of the house. "But Papá and Tío Berto do it too.", he attempted reasoning, but it failed dismally when he received stern glances.

The disconcertment in Rosa's heart was reaching frightening limits. She forced her lead-like legs to teeter next to him and draped her arms around Miguel's shoulders; she felt them quiver slightly.

She acted on the impulse to drag him to the sidelines, where they helplessly watched the agonising scene. He didn't push her away, but embraced her. She was momentarily overtaken by his affection, but quickly squeezed him closer.

"I messed up, prima. Too badly." He buried his face in her shoulder, seeking comfort. She doubted she'd be of much help, but she tried assuaging his fears.

Her mouth was dry.

"Shhh. It's gonna be okay, primo. We'll get through this." she whispered the falsity near his ear, unable to think of something better to say and hyper aware of the drama which was stirring up alarmingly fast in the family. She glimpsed Abel's troubled, concerned gaze. He looked at the two of them, then at Miguel's beloved possessions, then back at them again.

He understood.

His sister grimaced, equally perturbed.

This wasn't going to be easy.

…

The guitar twanged over Miguel's other discovered assets.

"What is all this? You keep secrets from your own family?!" Elena uttered in disbelief as her grandson stood before the family and his guitar, clasping his forearm with Imelda's photo still in his hand and forlornly eyeing his shoes.

"It's all that time he spends in the plaza." Berto rolled his eyes in a disapproving manner.

Gloria shook her head. "...Fills his head with crazy fantasies!"

Rosa sighed behind her, mimicking Miguel's nervous gesture, her body stiffening. A year before, she would have relished in his trouble the way siblings do, but now, after all the experiences that had shaped her differently, it candidly hurt to witness her cousin get chastised, especially because it was thanks to music. And she couldn't do anything about it!

Should I step in to defend him? But how? They won't listen to anything we'd say. Should I have been tougher on him and somehow force him to quit music? This wouldn't be happening then. She sighed again. Miguel is Miguel, I couldn't have changed him no matter what I would've done.

All these thoughts rang through her mind in a split second.

"It's not a fantasy!" Miguel contested, showing his father the photo, who took and studied it. "That man was Ernesto de la Cruz, the greatest musician of all time!"

"We never knew anything about this man. But whoever he was, he still abandoned his family. This is no future for my son!" Enrique shut him down firmly.

"But Papá, y-you said my family would guide me. Well, De la Cruz is my family, I'm supposed to play music!"

Enrique appeared sullen and uncertain, while Elena fiercely jumped in:

"Never! That man's music was a curse! I will not allow it!"

"If you would just…"

"Miguel." Luisa's dejected stare turned furious, frowning in a warning.

"You will listen to your family." Enrique added sternly, wagging his index finger. "No. More. Music."

Desperate, Miguel grabbed his guitar. "Just listen to me play!"

"End of argument!"

Breathing heavily, the boy's fingers plucked a few strings, all the hope drifting from his eyes when Elena harshly snatched his instrument away. She pointed to the missing part of the photo, to Mamá Imelda's husband's head.

"You want to end up like that man? Forgotten? Left off your family's ofrenda?!" Her voice became graver with each word.

"I don't care if I'm on some stupid ofrenda!"

His furious outburst shocked the family, who all gasped. Elena was the first to recover. She examined the guitar briefly before…

Miguel screamed. Enrique tried to stop his mother. Rosa clutched Gloria's arm next to her, too stunned to do anything to prevent the inevitable.

Elena smashed the guitar with three hard strikes to the ground. All that was left was the fingerboard, which she hurled near the remnants of the instrument.

"There! No guitar, no music!" She turned to her grandson, her expression contorted in fury.

Miguel was in utter disbelief as his chest started heaving and his eyes filled with tears. He just stood there in silence, as if he was trying to convince himself this was just a soon-to-end nightmare. But Rosa noticed when it dawned on him, and her heart shattered.

Elena softened, cupping the boy's cheek to soothe him. "Come, you'll feel better after you eat with your family."

Miguel's agony morphed into uncontrolled rage. "I don't wanna be in this family!"

He roughly seized the photo from his papá's hand and dashed through the family, wiping his eyes as he shoved the gates, racing onto the streets. He didn't look back, not even when Enrique yelled his name.

Rosa snapped out of her stupefaction, her mind misty and her heart thumping alarmingly fast. She'd only watched, and now it was the thing she regretted doing most in her life.

The family was in a frenzy. Abel looked hurt just like her, Gloria was on the verge of sobbing, Elena was in complete incredulity of what had just happened, Carmen was sorrowful, Berto seemed taken aback. And Miguel's parents… were appalled; Luisa had to sit down for a bit to process everything, while Enrique visibly suppressed his intense panic.

"We'll search for him," he announced, "Berto will go to the plaza, it's possible that he'll try to take part in that talent contest, and I'll look for him in the cemetery. Mamá, Gloria, you could check the main streets. We've taught Miguel not to venture on the less crowded streets, especially during the night. Carmen, someone needs to be here in case he comes back, is that okay? Good. And if we don't find him… then we'll turn the whole town upside down. I don't care how long it takes, we have to find my son."

"I'm coming too!" Luisa protested, approaching him.

"Mi vida, the baby…"

"He's my son, Enrique! Don't ask me to just stay here while mi bebito could be in danger. I'm coming with you!" Her tone was clear and certain, unrelenting.

Comprehending that there was no way his wife's mind would be changed, Enrique hesitantly concurred, and no time was wasted until the quest began.

Rosa was awoken by a tug on her sleeve. Abel was eyeing her, equally horrified.

"We should help." She said before he had the chance.

He nodded and they stopped their father from exiting the compound.

"Papá, we wanna help too!" Abel stated feverishly.

"We'll be careful, we promise!" Rosa reinforced. "Miguel can't have strayed too far already, and we won't either."

"Mijos…" Berto was unsure. More people meant more chances to find his nephew, but his own dear children…

"¡Por favor! I'll protect Rosa, we'll be fine. Nothing will happen to us."

"We can't just stay here while he could get killed."

Both Abel and Berto flinched at the scenario, but Rosa knew that sometimes, being straightforward also helped, besides pleading. She looked at her hermano, signalling to him silently. They flashed the best puppy eyes, and Berto yielded with a couple of warnings before he gave his permission.

The siblings left after Rosa had hurriedly snatched a warm hoodie from her closet because the night could get chilly as it advanced. She sought not to observe or acknowledge the pile of the ruined, irreparable pieces of the guitar in the middle of the hacienda.

With that, they were out in the village.

...

Rosa had a feeling that no one from the family, including her and Abel, would give the celebrations much thought as long as Miguel was missing. Judging by her older brother's concerned face, she realised she was right.

"If it was bound to happen, at least it shouldn't have happened tonight. It shouldn't have happened at all! This is not what I had in mind when I said he'd get caught." Abel gruffly voiced as they scoured the streets for a red hoodie and blue jeans. He was watchful about anyone whose gaze lingered too long on his little sister.

Rosa quaked. "Let's just focus on finding him."

Searching for a red garment was easier than having the fresh, horrid memories play time after time in her mind.

"Do you think he'll still perform?" she questioned.

"Don't you need an instrument to do that?"

She stopped in her tracks. She pictured Miguel getting dismissed to enter the contest because of his lack of a guitar. Her cousin was friendly and resourceful, he'd try to borrow a guitar from strangers. But people cared very much about their instruments; they weren't willing to just lend them to foreigners. She'd experienced that herself. His chances of managing to borrow a guitar to perform for a few minutes were low, unless…

No. He wouldn't do it. He wouldn't steal De la Cruz's instrument.

When she'd first been to Mariachi Plaza the previous Día de Muertos, Miguel had shown her the famous Mexican musician's tomb, and they'd spied through the windows to admiringly notice his huge portrait, the sarcophagus and the polished, shiny guitar.

Unsurprisingly, she could imagine her sneaky cousin finding a way to prowl inside the sacred place, either through the windows or through the heavy doors. The image made something like claws trace her spine.

They reached the plaza, and tried not to get observed by their father. Even in such circumstances, they knew they weren't allowed there.

Still, no sign of Miguel.

A small band was performing onstage, and Rosa inquired the lady who had a list of the participants - a pretty young woman with calavera make-up and a long purple dress - if she knew anything about a boy dressed in a red sweater who'd possibly tried to join the competition. After receiving an affirmative reply, yet with no clue about where he was now, the girl wound up that her revelation was very likely true. Unfortunately. There weren't many times when she actually hated being right.

"Abel, I know where he is." Rosa mumbled under her breath, her heart in her throat.

"You do?" His eyes widened.

"Sí. But please, stay here in case he appears on stage, alright?"

She tried to hurry to the cemetery, but Abel prevented her.

"Where are you going? I'm supposed to watch you, what if you get hurt? I'm coming along!"

"¡Abel, escúchame, por favor!" Rosa looked him dead in the eye, resuming her solemn countenance with a matching stern tone. "Miguel's life depends on us right now, and we'd be able to search for him more thoroughly if we split up. Besides, Tío and Tía will be there."

She wanted to protect him from the probability of getting spotted by Enrique and Luisa surveying the mausoleum. A musician's mausoleum. Should they notice her, at least it would be only her.

"Pero Papá said–"

"¡Hermano! Time isn't on our side, you know. Let's not waste it any longer. Please, let me go! I'm old enough to watch out for myself, and I shouldn't be gone for long."

Abel sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Don't let your guard down, Rosa! If something happened to you, I'd never forgive myself. The family wouldn't either."

She softened. "I'll be alright. Our priority is Miguel right now. Remember our promises."

He swallowed hard, releasing her forearm with a nod. She winked at him and bolted through the crowd. Her feet were suddenly on fire.

Abel stared after her. He smiled with pride until the flailing ponytail was out of sight and into the graveyard of Santa Cecilia.

"That really is my sister and our future matriarch."

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Sorry if some parts of this chapter were boring because of so many lines from the film, but I wanted to stay true to that canon material because it's a masterpiece.

Let me know what you think!