Savoir Faire Part 1

Xochitl regretted making such a haste decision. Saturdays were her days.

The week was divided between school and work, whilst Sundays she attended church, though, if she was honest, Sundays were enjoyable. Loves them, even.

Her mother was hasty in finding a fellowship as soon as they landed on Japan's shores. After some talks with neighbours and the troublesome visitation of a new congregation each week. Xochitl's mother finally found satisfaction at Our Lady of The Assumption. After an invite from one of the Filipinos at El Báquico. The church was nothing spectacular, a brick building that breathed the same eeriness all Catholic churches tend to have. It was situated on the slower side of Naka-Meguro, which was saying something as time in Naka-Meguro tends to be encased in thick honey. Xochitl expressed this with her father. Who told Hitoshi, who told Ryuuzu. Who, in turn, made it his duty to inform her that she was being aggrieved. Childish even.

"The city is too loud—" (which was, and she knew that he knew that she was right) "—now Naka-Meguro is too slow. What next, soon you will hate that east is east and west is west?" (Perhaps she should!).

Xochitl didn't say that, however. The urge was badly there as she bit her tongue. Those were the times she wished to fight him. Even when they were on good terms, Ryuuzu could be problematic. Always a debater.

"You should be a politician," Hitoshi would say whenever Ryuuzu was in such a mood, and that would shut him up. Mouth purse as if he had just eaten a young Kinep—sour to taste.

Xochitl would sometimes laugh in response. Ryuuzu would never contest Hitoshi, perhaps father and maybe (maybe) mother, but Hitoshi, unthinkable. Her older brother would then turn to her when Ryuuzu had disappeared to his silence: to fume, to think. And scold her, never too harsh but harsh enough for her to realize he was serious.

"You should not be so hard on your brother. He's going through that period wherein all boys go through. It's difficult. Complex. He wants nothing but your kindness now, as his sister and friend."

Xochitl would love to consider herself capable at school. However, at that time, Hitoshi's words, despite being simple in terms, was a loss to her. She was always kind, open to Ryuuzu. Hadn't she? Leave it up to her older brother for her to question herself. He was like their mother in that way. Words came so easy to him(them), savoir-faire, whilst words seemed to elude her—feverishly so. It was one of her notable flaws. However, unlike their mother whose beauty was in the tenor of silence, Hitoshi was loud, bright like Walter Castillo's painting. Ever moving. Assured. Beautiful. The reasons why Xochitl love him. The very same reasons why Ryuuzu respected him.

Xochitl loves Sundays. It was one of the few days Hitoshi wasn't up to the neck with work. He was an early riser, and she used this to her advantage. One thing she was grateful for about the move. (Despite her initial bemoaning). Was that Xochitl had her room. No more sharing with Ryuuzu. She could set her alarm one hour earlier than her usual rising time for her to talk to Hitoshi (steal him) longer. However, like their mother, her older brother was generous with his time. He would always go to Ryuuzu no matter how late he woke. Or no matter how late he required for their older brother to stay with him. At one time, driven by curiosity, jealousy, Xochitl asked what they talked about and always, without hesitation, said, "It's Private."

Xochitl would bristle but would never push for more details. If he was Ryuuzu, then, perhaps, it would be different. Then she would ask, anxiously, if Ryuuzu ever questioned about what they talked about. And always, Hitoshi would say, "No."

(Ryuuzu never asked her about their time. As if to say their talk wasn't important. As if she wasn't interesting. Had he not thought about her? Was he so cruel?)

Xochitl loves Sundays. It reminded her of home, especially when they cooked dinner in the mornings before setting off to church. Sundays' dinner rarely changes (predictable): stew chicken with a lot of scallions, sweet peppers, thyme, onion and irish potato. Meat seasoned with allspice, ginger, soy sauce, brown sugar (for the colouring). Served with rice and beans, kidney beans or pinto (green pigeons peas in Christmas). The rice is flavoured with coconut milk, pepper, thyme, scallion, garlic, and allspice. The aroma that filled the house was ambrosial. Familiar. The smell each house emits Sunday mid-afternoon back at home. Everyone cooked the same thing on Sunday. Perhaps a neighbour or two may have an extra meat-kind, whether pork or mutton. However, it was always the same.

Xochitl loves Sundays. However, Saturdays were her days. She should have been more forthcoming with Henri. But, alas, that was in the past. Perhaps, some good can come from this. After all, Xochitl had to part from many of her beloved CDs back at home. Her father, driven by the deadline to catch their flight, gave her no time for her to double-check. Maybe, she should have listened to her mother from the night before, but whatever, what good could her, overthinking about it now bring? With her finger crossed Xochitl, hoped the store had at least one of her favourites genres. Lila Downs was a well-known singer. Haikara could have some of her songs, right?

If it was up to Xochitl, they would have reached halfway to their destination. After arriving at the Harajuku Station made a bee-line to exit but had to be stopped by Henri, reminding her of his special invite to the boy (Keisuke?). She had forgotten! Guilt lick at the inside of her stomach. When he had arrived by the Yamanote train line, he looked relieved as if he had half-expected them to forget him (which was true, on Xochitl's part). He didn't say much but pleasantries. Hemera, gushing at his politeness, tugging at her skirt to confirm her comments.

"He's such a cutie," said Hemera.

The kid looked the same as the hundred Japanese tweens his age, though this could just be one of those instances where every East Asian looks the same. Was Xochitl horrible for thinking like this?

"How old is he?" asked Hemera after some minute of silence as they walked through the densely packed crowd.

"Dunno." Xochitl paused to think. He was short, barely touching her shoulders. Albeit, she reckoned his growth spurt was yet to start. Perhaps ten, eleven? She feels guilty for letting Henri tag him along. What of his parents? They are sure to be worried. Although from what Xochitl had seen, Japanese parents tend to give their children more independence than what she was used to. He does carry himself maturely.

Maybe, she was overthinking it.

"Where should we start?" asked Henri in English.

"The music store, wasn't that the plan?" answered Hemera.

"It's a part of the plan, but not all of it."

"But—"

"Geez, your such a stickler for the plan. Loosen up. Stretch those stockings of yours! You'll be home soon. No need to worry."

"I wasn't worrying. I just thought that we had a plan." Hemera pointed her nose upwards. Henri's eyes glistened with mirth and mischief.

"We do, kinda..."

The two were already lost in a heated debate. Xochitl bit at her nails. The weight of the boy's presence was heavy. Maybe they should try to talk in Japanese as she spared the boy a look. He watched both Hemera and Henri with interest before turning to her. A smile? Xochitl (quickly) turned her gaze to her school-mates. They should talk in Japanese to accommodate their kouhai. But, again, Xochitl found herself too frugal to initiate her thought. After all, he was Henri's invite, not hers.

Hemera (thankfully!) must have picked up on her concerns as she scolded Henri for his neglect.

"Say, what's your name again?"

It was the first Xochitl had heard Hemera speak in Japanese. The embarrassment of her oration for the language she believed she had got rid of return. Solidifying her determination to not speak further. It clashed with her other want for her to learn. She must study to prove she was just as good as Hitodhi (lies) as Ryuuzu. Her father still looked at her with that condescending stares whenever she talked in pauses. She was trying, goddammit! It was not her fault that Hitoshi and Ryuuz had a head-start in Japanese. Can he at least be please that she was trying? That damn foolhardy—

"...Really, that's amazing. Isn't that amazing Henri, Xochitl?"

"Sure is," Henri. He was inspecting the side of his thumb, perking up to watch a crowd of gyaru.

Xochitl blinks, then blinks, looking from Hemera, Henri and the boy. What were they talking about? Hemera was still waiting for her response, so Xochitl simply hummed. She should be more attentive to their conversation. However, Xochitl found it rather tiresome to do so already in English, never mind in Japanese that was just laughable. Besides, her input was not valid. It was up to Henri to entertain his guest. If Hemera wanted to share his responsibility that was up to her. Though it would not hurt for her to be more welcoming, besides she does need the practice with her Japanese. Didn't she say so herself, "He's good for practice?"

With Hemera entertaining the newcomer and Henri dragging her to every window display, they finally reach the shop (later than expected, no thanks to Henri).

"Haikara!" it was the boy who spoke first.

"You know the place?"

"Thinks his excitement speaks for himself," mumbled Henri in English. For the most part, Hemera ignored him as she continued to chat with their kouhai. He seemed tense.

Was it shyness?

No.

Annoyance?

Maybe she should save him from his suffering. Hemera can be overwhelming but—

"Isn't that a coincident that he knows?" Henri pressed his fist into her shoulder, trying to be friendly. Xochitl didn't answer, not right away, as she stood inspecting the building.

Compared to everything they saw, the store was relatively dull. Old. Perhaps, the oldest building on the street ( even the entire Harajuku district at that). A machiya shop. The noren, which seen better days, were worn and stained brown from the weather, the fading katakana of Haikara.

"He's a local, besides it may be quite popular among his crowd," answered Hemera in English.

Henri scoffed.

Then, without thinking, Xochitl said in Japanese, "He was the one who told me about the place."

If Henri said anything else, she didn't hear it as she entered the shop, the noren tickling the nape of her neck. Xochitl could taste the dust in her mouth as she walked down the aisle. The wooden floor moaned under her weight. No one was in the shop but them, and the young attendee, maybe in his late teen, his headphones on. She browsed about the section, from Filipino Pinoy pop, K-pop to Ryūkōka. Her fingers were covered in a thin sheet of dust. From touching the album cases. This continued, which felt like an eternity, until a voice breathed on her shoulder. The words tumbled from their moth as if they didn't do so now, then surely the words would slip down their tongue and choke. Xochitl turned much faster than she'd like, to meet the brown curious eyes of the boy. Nothing said as they stared. Finally, he repeated his earlier query. "Find what you are looking for?"

She shook her head, no, still a bit surprised by his sudden presence to form words. When she swallowed another sheet of dust that settle on her tongue she then said: "Do you know where they have western music?" She was not too certain if he understands as he cocked his head, like those birds. Xochitl wanted to smile at that but before she could, he perked up after finally deciphering her words.

"Oh, they are over that section!"

Xochitl looked where he pointed and followed, he was following not too far behind. She thought he would disappear by then, yet here he was. She didn't say anything. Perhaps, he was just overly friendly. The western section was more like a two-stack of the tattered album cover, and when touch, the paper that encased them crumbled. Xochitl didn't have to look long to notice that there was nothing here that she was looking for. The latest music was from the '80s, all in English. Something settled in her stomach, something heavy as if it was saying what do you expect? A blatant reminder she was foreign, didn't belong. Perhaps, she was being a bit melodramatic about the last part. But there was this faint hope that had wished there was something here for her. To solidify that she wasn't alone. As if sensing her disappointment, the boy speaks up.

"Would you mind me giving you some recommendation?" Xochitl nodded, not facing him, eyes still looking at the pathetic collection of western music. She soon found herself being directed by the boy. His recommendation consisted of City-pop and Kayōkyoku. All of which were sung by women. She doesn't know much of him, who, of her recollection, have only interacted with him once (maybe twice, who knows? Xochitl failed to recall). Nevertheless, she would have never guessed he would like such…soft music despite, this rough exterior he tried to dispel. But failed, well to her at least. The fat traces of pubescent on his cheek were anything but terrifying. Her quizzical look must have shown as the boy soon talk, tripping over words as if reading her thoughts. "I tend to listen to my mother's music…" he stopped after realizing what he had said. Something like a blush stained his cheeks and Xochitl wanted to smile. But didn't. Not at his expense.

"She has good taste," the conversation should have ended there but Xochitl soon heard herself saying, "Do you know of any more music shops with better ranges?"

Xochitl hoped she hadn't insulted him. After all, he was the one who told him about the place, she hoped he hadn't taken her enquiry as belittling his recommendation of the store. On the verge of rephrasing herself, her kouhai then said, enthusiasm dripping from his words: "Sure man. There are plenty of other stores, it's just that Haikara has a wide section of eighties music. The others are all too keen on becoming more modern."

Man? There it goes with his slang, always putting よ where it shouldn't be. But Xochitl liked how it sound as she whispered it to herself. She had noticed that he was talking more slowly than usual, more likely for her betterment. (It did something weird to her, lighten the heavy stones in her stomach). Maybe…had she been too harsh on him? Guarding herself like those castles in those English children's book stories. Girl with fair white skin and golden hair, trapped waiting for a knight. But Xochitl wasn't fair, and hair was not blonde, instead, it was thick, and coarse, at times, coarser than ropes whenever she neglected it. Lastly, she wasn't waiting to be saved. No, as she stared at her kouhai as he browsed the shelf. Satisfy with his find he place it on the record player handing her the headphones which were attached to it. Now and then looking up at her face to peek at a reaction. No, she doesn't need to be saved, just a simple push. A push to start. Maybe not now, but she now had a faint idea of what or rather where she wanted to go. If only they were more accepting. If she wasn't alone on her quest—Ryuuzu. Oh well.

"…I-if you want, I could show you them?" he stood waiting, looking up and in turn Xochitl cocked her head. She wasn't listening.

"Show me what?" she looked at the records after placing the headphone back at its slot. Her fingers stopping at Momoe, maybe she could buy it or at least rent it for a day or two?

"To other music stores." He answered finally. The words tumbling out that he had to repeat twice. The first was too fast for her to understand. With an "Oh." was her only answer. That was nice of him. Maybe she should take up his offer though. But she doesn't want to bother him. She doesn't even know him; he doesn't even know her! What if was one of those polite Japanese things wherein they say things which they don't mean but instead to keep the peace. To not upset the other. She had been in so many conversations like those, with that little silly hope that something was forming between the two before dying before it could take root. Xochitl would never understand such roundabout ways, in the end, it still hurt just as much if they were forthcoming, even more, as there was this false hope that bloomed in the other. But again, if she was truly Japanese, she would have understood their indirect way of rejection, right? But she wasn't, she was this, that, and everything in-between but Japanese. A stain, a gajin. Even despite her last name, even despite when she mutilated her name to fit in…Oh well.

She looked at her kouhai who was still staring, waiting for an answer.

"Hmm, That sound nice." Xochitl thought that was good enough. No real answer. No real hope to grow in his chest. Nevertheless, it didn't deter him as he continued his chatter. Talking about each records his eyes land on. His music knowledge seemed endless as he talked of the date they released, the record label, their debut chart number.

"No real eighties playlist is complete without 'The Eternal Idol'. This is one of my favourites by her 'Rock'N Rouge'. Wanna listen?"

"Sure."

Xochitl placed the headphones on, whilst he put the record on. The sound of the needle finding the track then came the sound of a guitar bass, the background choir of men, then the grate reverb drum beat which solidified the eighties sound. Then a woman's voice, smooth, a hot knife through butter. Xochitl didn't understand most of the lyrics, too many poetic idioms but she got the gist of what was being said. The chorus soft, sound of flutes and harps and trumpet and then undoubtedly, the English words: "I will fall in love!". Again, she would never guess he would love such songs and she found herself smiling at that thought.

"What you're listening to?" came Henri as he poked at her shoulders. One of her headphones off her ears, his doing.

"Matsudo Seiko," Xochitl answered.

"Oh, she's good. I have heard of her. The eternal singer or something like that. Say, you wouldn't guess what I have found." Xochitl replaces the headphone to its slot. She began to browse through the section, but she manages a position to tell Henri that she was waiting, listening.

"Silbermond, and look, some of their newer stuff. I hit a goldmine," The album cover was new, though a tear was running through one of the female band member face.

"Lucky you," and she meant it.

"Have you not found what you were looking for?" An emotion that rarely ever laced his words was heard and Xochitl shook her head.

"Perhaps Lila Downs isn't as popular as I have hoped for."

"Not even Mercedes Sosa?" (she shook her head) "No way not even that club band-thing—"

"Buena vista social club." Xochitl corrected. A chortle as he pressed his fist into her shoulder.

"A real bummer, I don't even know of any stores, but I can call my—"

"No worry," she then pointed at their kouhai, "he promised to introduce me to more stores. You can tag along if you're interested," she added the last part after debating with herself.

Then Henri smiled, the one she knows so well which promised nothing but mischief. He pressed himself over the kouhai personal place. Hands-on the boy's shoulders. "Isn't that nice of you Keisuke-bou," something flickered against the younger boy's face. He didn't reply as he continue his search. "Making all these grand plans by yourself, did you have no intent in sharing? —"

"I was going to invite you," but what she had said might as well fell on deaf ears. This time for sure Xochitl saw the boy bristle, at the tip of anger. She wasn't too keen on parting up a fight, she always leaves such troublesome things to Hitoshi or her mother. She was more like—dare she say—her father. Just sit and watch. Better out than in. He would say as she quarrels at Ryuuzu or Ryuuzu quarrels at her. They are children they are bound to fight, inevitable, with each other if their coupe up in the same place.

But as she looked between the two, on the verge of exploding yet Henri continue to poke him driven by this unexplained madness. She wondered, if even once, can she be Hitoshi. She always dreams of having a smaller sibling to look after (to boss around). A senpai to her kouhai.

Xochitl steps in-between, brushing Henri's hands off the boy's shoulder. "You're so troublesome," she said to Henri in Japanese.

"Xochitl—" he started but she talked before he could finish.

"Look forget it. No need for you to rile up over nothing." This she said in English. Just for her and Henri. He was always like this, just when she believes he could be just okay enough, he decided to be an ass. He began to speak but Hemera appeared ("Oh Hemera, she always missing out).

"Have you show her what you've found?" asked Hemera.

Henri shrugged, "She's not excited about it, right Xochitl?"

Xochitl just hummed as she moved to another shelf, this time she didn't mind so much when her kouhai was behind her. Another shadow of her. Such a curious boy. Following her around so. If she didn't know better, she would think he has smitten. A crush. She laughed. A real laugh, her head was thrown back mouth wide open. It frightened the sleeping attendant and the boy looked at her, bewildered. Through her peripheral, she saw Hemera and Henri watching as well. The boy opened his mouth before closing it, then opened it again: "Sochito—" (that is how he said her name. Every time they talk. Every time to ask a question. As if to say her name was the stamp: It was only meant for her.) "—Bay city is another great recommendation, here."

She let him place the record on the player, listening to a more upbeat song. Xochitl could see herself like this, her kouhai seemed to see what she was thinking as he seemed to relax under her stares. He continued his search for more recommendations.

That was such a silly thought, a crush. More like curious, overly friendly because she was a foreigner. Soon such excitement would wane. They all do. In time they exited the store under Hemera's persuasion, "Let's get something to eat," she proposed. Xochitl hated the thought of buying food, she always followed Henri to buy snacks and she got free food from her job. Nevertheless, she keeps this to herself. She readjusts the bag on her shoulder, proving more difficult with the record under her hand. In the end, she relented, despite the singers' complete contrast to the mature rough (coarse) tenor of Spanish singer, Xochitl could see herself growing to appreciate them. Or, at the very least, she could try.

Authors note :

Just a little thing I forgot to mention, the story is a slow burn...so yeah. Interaction between Baji and Xochitl (for now) will be far and in-between. The first arc is a long introduction to characters and their problem (sort of, some are hinted at). Therefore, they would be no huge conflict in the first arc or any of the arcs for that matter. Just three more chapters (part two of Savoir Faire is not included) for the introduction arc to finish. Another thing to consider is that both Baji and Xochitl are unreliable narrators. I am thinking of doing bonus chapters that feature other characters in the story to get their point of view. However, I will put that off for another time or when I achieve an important milestone like posting ten chapters or more. I am thinking of completing the first arc before doing this huge editing before starting the second arc "You&Me/Talking", yeah...