October was filled with rain showers; Baji saw this as a hindrance. However, Mikey had still insisted that they should ride around Shibuya, which ended with them being chased by the police. In the end, they had to hide out at an old, abandoned building. Kazutora was the one that proposed to come out of their hiding, but Draken said otherwise. The two ended up in a brawl. Not for long since Mikey had suggested making another round in Shibuya despite the heavy pouring of rain. And all of them were without helmets or goggles.
Looking back now, Baji wished that he did carry his helmet. Perhaps, it would have lessened the blow of his current flu from him. Which had confined him to his bed for the past week. Mikey had messaged him saying that they should ride all the way to Minato, for the heck of it. Baji declined as he sniffed, rubbing his nose. The other boy then called his phone from him, for him to only call him a pussy, and that for the entirety of the next month, it would be his job from him to comply with his every whim from him. Fucking brat. Nonetheless, Baji agreed as he curled into his futon; too tired to even read his manga from him.
His mother was busy entertaining the neighbour that had recently moved downstairs. Both bonding over the fact they were alone. The only difference was that the neighbour's husband was dead, while hers had just suddenly disappeared. His mother, at times, would try to rope him into her ridiculous play.
"The neighbour has a son around your age. Why don't you go talk to him? It will do you good if you widen your friend scope. I know you are good friends with Sano-san's grandson. However, don't you think it is time to meet new people, hmm? Might do you some good."
As if.
Baji declined, of course. He wasn't stupid; (not entirely...) buthe knew what she was doing, trying to imply. She believed he was going through a phase; that he was acting out and his friends a catalyst to these outbursts. The fact that his father wasn't around just added fuel to the fire. He spat at the thought. His head may be broken when it comes to anything academics wise, but it was just that. Nothing else was wrong with him. Adults, they were so damn annoying. Why couldn't they just
A sneeze and a coughing fit followed. Baji's mother rushed in, leaving the door ajar. The TV droned on, seeping into his room. News of peace talks with North Korea and Prime Minister, Junichiro Koizumi, could be heard.
A hand to his forehead before quickly being withdrawn. "Perhaps, a trip to the doctor is due."
Baji moaned.
He hated the doctor. All doctors. They are all the same. With their sickly-sweet smile that tried to hide their words, which tightened around your neck like a noose.
("You're default!")
His mother relented, hands up in defeat. "A soup then, it would surely brighten you up. Put the right colour back into your cheeks." A smile.
Baji nodded. Whilst his mother fixed his sheets, she muttered to herself that she needed to wash his blankets before disappearing through the doors.
He won't admit it. (Out loud, that is...)
But he was grateful for his current ill health, despite missing the usual ride around town. Unfortunately, with his current state, his mother had finally had something to do with herself. Although, that was an understatement. Since the bastard had left, she had taken more shifts at her work. And was even contemplating getting a part-time job on the weekends. But, what Baji was to say was that: her usual self was gone. That sense of not knowing what to do with herself. It was funny in a way, as she was an adult. Mother. What do you mean she doesn't know what to do? However, Baji saw it. Whenever he came back home to her. He sees it. He knew it. She doesn't say it, but she anticipated his return. And that doesn't mean she shouldn't. She was his mother. But the need behind it was carnal. Desperate. As if he doesn't return, she would just cease to exist. To disappear. And it frightened him.
A shiver ran through him despite the numerous sheet he was under. The real horror had begun: What if he didn't return? What if he was to disappear? Then what? Perhaps he was being melodramatic?
"Signs of puberty," His P.E. teacher said.
Yet, he couldn't help but think so. Even if he wanted not to. It would not deter Baji's 'what if' thoughts from persisting. Just as though nothing would deter him from coming home late: for him to stand in front of the door most nights. Watching his reflection on the keypad. Wondering if his mother could see his shadow beneath the door. He would wonder if she could hear him breathing as how he could hear the TV droned on loudly.
Baji would press the number in and then peered inside through the crevice. To see if his mother was still intact. Satisfied, he then entered. Silence. As he waited. Then, like clockwork, she would rush to him, then point at the clock, asked if he knew what time it was. He would not answer, waiting for her to continue. And when she abused her throat to the point it cracked, she then hugged him, wet cheek to his hair. And then Baji breathed a sigh of relief at the heat from her touch. She was there. She was there. She was still here, and the TV droned on.
The air was cold and wet, the signs of the fast-approaching winter. To think that the year was coming to an end was mind-blowing for Baji. It felt like yesterday that he, his mother, and that man, were warming their feet under the kotatsu. His mother of him peeled oranges as he sucked on one of the pegs. Baji remembered the sour taste that stung his cheeks from him. He remembered the juice running down his chin from him and his mother from him laughed whilst his father reached out with his thumb to—
Baji remembered the last new year with just the three of them. At home, everything was good. It is worrisome how things change. There was no premonition like there was in his manga about him. No broken teacup. Nothing. Perhaps, there was. The oranges [1] he had eaten were slightly more sour than usual . (Was that the omen?). Probably he should have told his mother about it then. Maybe, she would have watched her actions of her and thought about her words of her that she said to him. (Because it must have been her words from her that pushed him away, right?) . And then it wouldn't be just them two, right?
Baji knew he shouldn't think so. But he was eleven, well, soon to be twelve in a couple of hours, in fact. If he was to look at his phone from him, there would be messages, missed calls, from his mother from him, telling him about plans for his birthday from him; for them to spend it.Just them two. The queasy feeling returned to his stomach from him. His hands tightened on his bike's handle. Accelerating his speed from him, passing Mikey's Street Hawk.
The other boy whined, "Baji," he threatened.
He didn't need to say it. Baji still owed him for dancing in October. Such a fucking brat . At a red-light, he flashed his finger at Mikey, and he could see color rising on the other boy face.
Perhaps, he shouldn't have done that. Mikey going to hog that over him for the rest of the month. But it has been ages since they fight. Back when he still goes by the moniker "Edward". hey you to fight all the time. With his birthday from him so close by, Baji could not help but feel nostalgic. They didn't wait for the light to turn green. Mikey sped up, and as he did so, he made sure to drive in a puddle. Splashing him in the process. He could hear the others laughing. He soon found himself joining in as well. " Ashole!"
The decision to come to El Báquico was easily made. It was even made easier by the groan from Mikey's stomach. And being that his favorite restaurant would be closed at this time, it left El Báquico as the only choice. In time, the familiar alley greeted them with the smell of allspice and roasted meat. If Baji was to open his mouth and stick his tongue out, he could taste the brown sugar that they burnt in a pot.
The alley was lively, livelier than usual. Louder than usual, crowder than usual. They even put extra tables and chairs to meet such populated demands. The music vibrated from underneath their feet, and the people talked over each other, laughing, singing. All in different languages: English, Tagalog, and others he hasn't heard before. The doors of the restaurant were pulled open; an old flowerpot acts as its anchor to hold it in place. When they entered, the heat from inside rushed out and engulfed them: hot and the smell of sweat and alcohol.
Baji soon realized the reason why the guests were seated outside. Other than clearing the main floor to create a dancefloor. Altars of various sizes (and colours) were placed throughout the restaurant. Gone were the pictures of a lover serenading and women dancing. Even the most thick ones. (Good riddance) . Replaced with black and white pictures — some colored — of unfamiliar faces looking back at him.
Draken was the one who found his voice first.
"What the hell is going on? I thought Halloween had already gone." A girl with her boyfriend passed by giggling, face painted in a skull.
Then a voice Baji had learned to memorize for the past weeks spoken up: a bit too hard to be truly feminine, fruity. "It's Los Finados or Undas as Yamal called it. Or Día De Muertos as it most popular known as."
"Hey?" Mikey tilted his head.
Xochitl continued. "It's All Souls Day. A religious holiday to remember the departed." Then she smiled, a one that even showed her all her teeth.
Baji then realized that she was wearing lipstick. Blood-red in colour. It looks good on her. Her face became warm; the heat from the building must be getting to him.
"That's depressing," Mikey said. His earlier enthusiasm for him had finally simmered, hands in his pockets.
to pause. Baji knew she was thinking of a reply. Xochitl shrugged, "Perhaps, a bit." She said something else, but he wasn't listening. Her hair from her. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed. It was decorated with a flower crown in the colors of reds, oranges, and blues. Hair braided with colorful ribbon intertwined with it.
Xochitl then ushered them to a table occupied by two drunk men. She began to shoot them away. When they got to their feet, Baji noticed that they couldn't be older than eighteen. Their face-stained red.
One of them swayed to Xochitl, finger pointed at her before straying to a nearby couple dancing. His friend de ella hastily went to support him, struggling under his weight de ella as he did so. The two then seemed to stumble. Quickly they gained their balance. Tongue heavy in his mouth from him, the boy said, "You owe me a little dance face."
Xochitl gave them another push to move them away before signaling for another chair. When they were seated. She turned to the two boys, who stood rooted at their spot. Waiting for her comment on whatever they had just said.
"Really." A smile that seemed teasing, and the two boys slumped away. Not quietly though as they chatted over their shoulders back to Xochitl. At last, they were lost in the crowd, and their words could have been coming from the speakers. Or from the table where a group of men were playing cards.
"I have never heard of such a holiday before?" The words left Baji's lips without realizing it. ("Why haven't you told me?") the unaided question.
Her eyes to his (finally!). Head tilted, "Oh," Xochitl continued, eyebrows pulled in a furrow. "I—It seems I have forgotten to tell you. I thought I told all the regulars." A finger pressed to her lips from her, deep in thought.
A pin through his heart, ouch . And to think there was something building between them. The past days after he recovered from his flu, Baji visited El Báquico . It was not like he was checking up on her. He had heard that area of Shibuya was badly affected by the Typhoon. And if in his quest to see that one of her favorite hot spots was intact he had somehow included seeing her, it was just a bonus. (A wonderful bonus at that). Ever since that visit, Xochitl had become more understanding to have a conversation with him. When he asked questions, she answered back not in dull quips or in just a single word, but in complete sentences: "I guess not." "I guess so." "I will have to check." Baji had even taken the liberty of sitting at her table, no permission was needed. Not anymore. And if he must confess, it even seemed like she had purposely left that empty seat (just adjacent to her) for him. To think he had believed there was a friendship was building between them. Was it so difficult to create friends? All it took Mikey was his fist and the other boy's infamous kick to his face. And a fist to Kazutora's face to become friends. Perchance, the fairer sex required more talking to.
"It seems I have been taken up with our chats to tell you when we did meet—" (Baji heart leap.) Her finger pressed to her lips, eyes looking up thoughtfully and he knew she was going over the words she had said. Satisfied, she continued. "— I will see to if I can get you some free treats, hmm?"
Mikey's eyes brightened at that as he asked what kind they were.
"What kind do you prefer?"
At that, the two were lost in their chatter. Eventually, Mikey had resolved on trying the treat called cassava pone.
"It's a treat from back home. You will love it, "she said, with a smile that reached her eyes from her and peeled her lips to show teeth.
The other boy had only truly decided when Xochitl had told the treat was made entirely of sugar and grated cassava. His eyes shine with delight at hearing that. She then turned to them, asking for their own request from her. Draken decided on sweet potato pudding. Pah-chin on peanut cake. Mitsuya on cutubrute. Kazutora had decided to get the same treats as Mikey (his eyes also glint with delight that could rival kindergarten at recess). Whilst Baji resolved to try the tambran ball. After Xochitl's remark, " Oh! That's a favorite back home."
It let him wonder, where was this back home she talked of as she walked away, notepad in hand. He wasn't the one to gossip but he and Kazutora (when they were down on topic) would guess where she was from.
"Indonesia? There is a lot of darkies there."
Baji scrunched his nose, shaking his head. "India?"
He had gone to a museum back in his first year in elementary. The only reason he had remembered it so vividly was that it was his first-time leaving Tokyo. It was a small place, nothing special (probably dissolved by now). They were learning about the different countries that made up the continent of Asia. I have remembered his teacher pointing at the map to India. Telling them of the contribution he had made to the region. (Yawn). Before, pointing to a photograph framed beside it with smiling faces looking back at them. titled : 'The People of India.' . I have remembered looking at it for a moment before running off with Mikey. Most of those people looked like her, but—
"Are there darkies in India?" asked Kazutora.
Now, that was the discrepancy. There were a plethora of people within that picture. People who looked almost like them. People who didn't and some he had no comparison to relate them with.
Baji shrugged his shoulders, "Dunno, perhaps." The conversation usually ends there.
However, recently he began to doubt his answer. After their visit to Haikara , he had learned of two artists she liked. Lila Downs and Mercedes Sosa. With this information in tow, Baji began to ask music stores if they have such artists. Which resulted in him having conversations like this: "Mercedes Sosa and Lila Downs?"
Baji would then nod his head.
"Now, isn't that an odd request from your usual, why the change?"
"It's none of your damn business."
"Geez, so touchy. Kids these days, look I don't have any Lila Downs, never heard of that chick before. But Mercedes Sosa, I think you can get." The store clerk shifted the cigarette in his mouth as he penned his instructions from him.
"Here, go to this store. Ask them for Spanish discography but be careful now. They might mistake you for wanting music from Europe—better yet just ask them if they have any Latin America discography. You are bound to find Sosa there."
Latin America? It was n't the first he had heard that name popped up in his search for him. Was Xochitl from there? He would have to ask her when he got a chance. In time, she returned with their orders and their respective treats. Mikey dived in first on his of him.
"Sweet!" he said with his mouth stuff.
"I'm glad that you liked it. There's more if you want." Mikey was more than happy at such a comment.
Before Baji could get a word in, she had already been on her way to assist other customers.
It was quarter past nine, and the table before them was empty, except for a plate of cassava pone. None of them made any sign of wanting to leave. A band had recently arrived from the back of a truck, and the manager welcomed them by turning off the music. As they tuned their instruments, soon filling the restaurant with sounds from their guitars, trumpets, tambourines, and a grater? The people sang as well, the dancehall becoming even more crowded.
Xochitl was currently dancing with one of the drunken boys from earlier. Their movement from him was awkward, mostly likely by his drunken state and height difference from him. Nonetheless, the smile remained on her face. She even gifted him with a wet kiss on his cheeks when finished. Leaving a bright imprint of her lipstick on her tawny skin. He was happy that none of his friends was looking for him (the teasing would be endless). Mikey having an arm-wrestling match with Pah-chin over this share of Cassava Pona, Draken as their mediator. Kazutora was taken by a group of older girls. As they chatted in broken Japanese. Leaving Mitsuya, whose eyes were also on Xochitl. Albeit, for different reasons than his.
"That embroidery on her blouse is rather complicated, yes?" he continued, "I have never seen anything like it. It looks handmade. Woven."
Baji didn't know what to say. Xochitl always wear blouses like those. With embroidery around the sleeves and collars. However, as Mitsuya mentioned this, I have realized that he had never seen such great details as this one. The embroidery covers the entirety of the blouse. There were birds with majestic tails with different colored threads. Flowers: hibiscus, peonies, and marigold. An entire story was sewn into this blouse. A language on its own. The more he looked, the more the details revealed themselves. There were stones sewn within it as well. For the eyes of birds and the pistil of the flowers. Glinting in the right light.
Xochitl then laughed. Unabashed, her head thrown back. Her dance partner of hers. (A new one. This one he knew or rather seen before. It was the boy that always with her at the cash register. What was his name de Ella again?). He twirled her around, her skirt de Ella unfurled, blossoming yellow like the marigold that decorated the altar and tables. She tugged him down to her level of her, kissing him on his cheek—
"I guess you're too taken up to answer my questions Baji." Mitsuya turned to him. Was he still talking?
He started to talk, to apologize even, but the other boy was quicker. "It's fine. I guess my ramblings can get bored at times. Especially surrounded by such festivities." Silence. That was the thing he liked the most about Mitsuya. He wasn't so overbearing, childish even. The result of being the eldest of his siblings, no doubt.
"Why don't you ask her?" said Baji, and a smile bloomed on the other boy's face.
"I was just going to ask you that." A knowing smile on his face from her. Baji returned it.
I have watched her talk to some group of men. They hugged her as she planted a kiss on each of their cheeks. Foreigners and their oddities. Perhaps he should ask her for a dance. She seemed to like that.
"I'm going to do that!"
No such opportunity arrived. The minute he took his eye from her, she disappeared. Another couple took her spot from her (two women). Their bodies were so close that their noses rested on each other cheeks. Baji's face burned with color. He was intruding as he looked away, to find a man and an older boy (the same boy that had finished dancing with Xochitl) at their table. The man was offering them drinks.
"We didn't order any," Draken explained.
The man just smiles. It seemed off-putting as it didn't fit his withered face, such a youthful grin.
The older boy, (what was his name again?) argued with the man in another language. But from what Baji was seeing, the boy was losing. In the end, he raised his hands up in defeat, leaving the man behind, a frown on his face.
"Finally, stick in the mud that one." The man continued.
"Here." I placed the drinks before them; it was milky in color. And when Baji grasped the cup, it breathes a chill down his fingertips. He brought it up to his nose and sniff. Nothing he had smelled before. A bit fruity, even spicy, as if cinnamon was sprinkled in the mix. He looked to his friends from him as they all returned his stars.
The man spoke up, "Cheers!" He raised his glass, and they followed.
Baji quickly regretted taking such a large sip of his drink. As the liquid turned into hot-red flames as soon it touched his tongue. He spat it out before he knew what he was doing. He looked around and saw that most have them had the said reaction (more or less). Pah-chin and Draken had managed to swallow theirs.
"Alcohol," Draken was the first to find his voice.
The man just laughed. No wonder the older boy was so exasperated with him.
"We are underage," stated Mitsuya. That just deepen the man's laughter, hands at his side of him as he doubled over.
"It's just a little drop. Won't do anything to ya. Matter of fact, a little alcohol is good for your metabolism." Another laugh as he sauntered away.
"They are fucking crazy," Mitsuya muttered. Draken hummed at that. Even after agreeing with Mitsuya, none of them abandoned their drinks. Sipping at it now and then.
As the night carried on, it showed no sign of ending. Even when the crowd had lost much of its taste from the alcohol in their system. The current singer ended with a high note and like always a chorus of claps followed. Then another singer took the stage. Like Xochitl, the woman also wore a complicated embroidery blouse. Baji could see Mitsuya leaning in to get a better view. Her hair was drawn into a tightly braided crown, decorated with ribbons. Her kind black eyes on a round face and an aquiline nose. She waved to one of the band members, telling him to quickly tune her guitar. A hug from the manager, and a kiss on his cheek from her. After a drink that brightened the earthy tone of her skin. The woman made a great show of sitting, as she fixed the embroidered-colored shawl on her shoulder. She welcomed them or, at least, Baji assumed she did. She spoke neither English nor Tagalog. Not even Spanish, he had heard much of that language for tonight to know, now. The audience seemed to understand as they stood still waiting for her to start. Even the drunken men outside, playing another round of cards, had become quiet.
Oh!
Finally, he spotted Xochitl among the crowd. Staring at the singer so intently. That even if she blinked, it would regard blasphemy. Baji didn't have any time to get up and go to her, as the string of the guitar thrum and the woman began to sing a somber song. A complete contrast to earlier tunes.
Baji didn't have to know the language to understand what she was singing. Nor did you have to be a great lover of music as him to appreciate the lyrics or the masterfully playing of the guitar; It was a song of love, of laughter. A song of great loss and sadness. It was a song of life. No one moved. Not even to dance or to stretch their sore feet. It was not that the woman was a wonderful singer. No. her voice cracked and strained at some notes. But she had experience. The woman experience everything she sang.
The words washed over him and threatened to soak into his skin, down to his lungs, and take up space. Even if it had to tear open his chest, it forced and coerced until it felt as if his heart was at his throat. A breath leaped out of his mouth.
Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.
He repeated under his breath as the woman continued to sing. He mustn't. He shouldn't cry. Not now. Not when he was doing so good for so long. He mustn't pity himself like this. Not here. Not when he was among people; his friends. Whilst his poor mother was at home alone— dammit!
Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.
Baji became twelve there as the last guitar string thrum in the air, followed by a roar of clap. He didn't even know it. It was not until Draken nudged him on his side, saying his first birthday wishes to him, then followed by Mikey.
"Finally, you're old like us, you baby."
They all decided to give him a toast, clinking their glasses together. Some spilling on his fingers. (That going to be sticky later). As they all congrats him.
"Aren't you lucky, getting to drink alcohol on your birthday?" said Kazutora as he down his drinks. They all laughed.
Even after finishing his drinks, his throat burned. There lingered a sense of heaviness from the song. He excused himself from the table, saying that he needed some fresh air, after a look from Mitsuya. Baji found himself outside, the cold night (or rather the morning) raising goosebumps on his skin. He hugged himself.
Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale—
A girl's laughter snapped him from his mantra. He looked to see who. His heart leaped.
Xochitl...
He had not seen her since the song, disappearing as quickly as she had appeared. He made a start to go over her, to say hi. (Perhaps ask her for a dance. The band had started up a rather lively jive). But he stopped when he noticed that she wasn't alone under the luminant of the street light. A hand on her shoulder, a boy's hand at that. Baji couldn't see his face, just his back, but he knew he had never seen him before, at the restaurant or at the festivities. He leaned on a bike as Xochitl looked up, never breaking eye contact. He could see color in her cheeks that could dye wool. The boy must have said something funny as another peal of laughter left her lips. She stepped closer to him, shadow merging with his. He couldn't hear what she was saying but Baji could discern it was spoken in Japanese. The boy's hand then moved up to the flowers in her hair. The queasy feeling in his stomach returned. He should go. Look away. He was clearly intruding on their privacy. Yet, he stood rooted, watching. Her head was thrown back, as her laughter fill the damp alley.
1: Most Japanese families eat oranges at the beginning of the new year as it symbolises longevity. However, Baji being superstitious wondered that since the oranges he had eaten last year were a bit too sour than usual was a sign that his family would be split.
So two more chapters till the end of arc one. The next chapter would continue from Baji's point of view. Anyway, 's stay safe and thanks for the love so far. I really appreciate it.