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the kageyamas were staunch loyalists of the marcoses. and their parents made sure it stayed that way.
but then, miwa attended a state school in college. where she encountered people from all walks of life. who filled her head with mad, radical ideologies, in the very words of their mother. it didn't take long before such notions reached tobio. not so long before their dinners consisted less of eating and more of proving and disproving claims of ferdinand e. marcos's dictatorship being the golden age of the nation.
it was election day, and miwa and tobio were volunteers for poll watching. poll watchers were prohibited to assist those who needed to be, even if they were relatives. so, behind the open windows of a classroom for grade schoolers, they watch their father practice his dark magic.
later, they hear their grandfather mumble in his sleep that the future he dreams is bright and rosy. miwa and tobio look at each other and share a smile, remembering the story of kumander liway that they always requested kazuyo to tell before going to bed as kids.
they couldn't bring themselves to sleep that night. not when the numbers were adding, multiplying that fast. speed does not mean accuracy. truth is not quick to be known. but the potential return of fascism is more than enough to beware.
they stay up, seated at the dining table. their parents don't care anyhow. tobio brews them coffee. miwa's been trying to fix her hair, for god knows how long now. trying to distract herself for a little while. because if all else fails, her hair shan't. and her baby brother, of course.
"ate." he lays a cup in front of her, then drifts back to his phone. "ka leody has conceded."
miwa blows the bangs in the way of her eyes. "he's fought a good fight, that man." tobio sees a bittersweet air in them. "we all have."
-
to kei:
fuck papa.
from kei:
no, thank you.
to kei:
he shaded marcos. the ballot was lolo's. and bastard was just supposed to assist lolo. but he shaded marcos.
from kei:
putangama.
tsukishima and yamaguchi went to the local comelec center together, as soon as voter registration began in january. they joined in sorties and rallies and house-to-house campaigns. they didn't miss the miting de avance at makati. they were very, very positive, much like kazuyo, that ahead lay a bright and rosy tomorrow. they have their ideals, they do. they were dreamers. sick ones.
they agreed upon meeting at the town plaza, along with some other watchers for a briefing of sorts, before proceeding to their designated schools and polling precincts. some companions had pink wristbands on, with 'leni-kiko 2022' in bold prints. it proved to be a challenge to tsukishima to pull yamaguchi away before the latter could tell them off completely.
it was past 10 pm when they began driving to sampaloc. when they learnt about the initial tally from a facebook live-stream. optimism can only go so far. especially when the seeds of fabrication, of distortion have long been buried deep, only to grow and grow wild in due time.
"in new york." tsukishima dips the headlights. "vp leni won the new york polls. kuya told me."
yamaguchi heaves a dramatic sigh: "sana all."
"hmm. i bet mama'll be persuading me to migrate there as well." better opportunities, so she'd say. but to tsukishima, there, there's safety and confidence in clamoring, in dissenting. then again, the existence of danger never once made him, or them, back out.
yamaguchi looks out the streets, the trees. it was pitch black, save for their truck and a few more vehicles. "well, if anyone is to flee—to flee again, mind you—it should be bongbong and imelda. and their whole clan of friggin' thieves!"
then there's laughter. light, but genuine, but afraid. terrified of what this can and will bring.
-
to hitoka:
you at ust already?
from hitoka:
just got here! super glad, ppcrv's loaded with volunteers <3 but we need food :(
to hitoka:
tsukki and i are headed there now! shimada mart's got loads of donations <3
from hitoka:
omg, yay <33 you two best take care alright !! we've a future yet to behold ;))
well, if anyone's mother really is that eager to send her child to another land, it's hitoka's. for the exact same reason as all mothers who do, do. and, for the exact same reason as all children who do, do, hitoka stands her ground.
the subject surfaced again, when she was selecting a template for a pub mat, at the quadricentennial pavilion. it was madoka's co-worker, hitoka's fellow volunteer who asked.
"that's precisely what marcos and duterte would want, sir. for those who speak; those who stand up, to be silenced; to abandon the struggle."
at that, hitoka expected a rebuke. for the exact same reason as all adults who do, do. instead what she hears is this: "i was originally for ping. but because i didn't want to see another marcos in the malacañan, i switched to leni." contrary to a loyalist actress's statement, the malacañan, first and foremost, is an office. not a tahanan. not to the president, not to anyone.
when hitoka is left alone with only her ipad and her thoughts, she goes back to work whilst questioning the worth of peoples' sacrifices. and the absence or presence of that pang of regret once they realize just what they have given up. then she remembers all the sleepless nights for this campaign season, and madako telling her just how proud she was of her. it's enough to make her think it is worth it after all.
at 2 am, there's a live notification from rappler. a supposed concession speech of the vice president. only, it wasn't. it was, in essence, a call to carry on, a plea to keep the fire alive.
it's a wonder how hitoka wasn't dozing off. aah, it must have had something to do with, "kapag mulat na sa katotohanan, kasalanan na ang pumikit," tsukishima joked. yamaguchi chuckled, handing her her second granola bar.
-
to shouyou:
[you sent a photo]
from shouyou:
no fair!!! but aha, good thing tobio isn't there either :P
to shouyou:
lmao, he literally said the same thing about you xD
anyways, we'll see you both tomorrow!!!
from shouyou:
takits!!!
[shouyou sent a photo]
shouyou comes back home with a dejected look painted on his face. it's a neighbor, a sweet potato farmer, who pointed out. he greets natsu with the same expression. and shouyou finds that dejection is contagious.
"what took you so long?" natsu would ask, her mouth full. she wouldn't understand and would be annoyed with her kuya because he would keep saying "i'm sorry, bunso. i'm sorry." like he has punctured her beloved basketball. so she would insist on hugging it whilst sleeping and shouyou would tuck her in whilst shaking his head.
he decides to go outside for a moment to breathe. the presumptive senatorial slate is disappointing. and he exchanges sentiments with their neighbor, the sweet potato farmer, about diokno not making it the second time around. how an ex-action star/ex-convict won a seat instead of a human rights lawyer/professor.
"hontiveros should hold on tight," their neighbor said. she'd just be one out of 12, out of 24. but it should be enough. in the meantime, at least.
shouyou appreciated it, their neighbor's listening, his scolding the children that taunted "leni lugaw!" and then shouyou's heart breaks when he's told: "i don't know much, son, but from my old days, i've learned a few things. don't offer too much of yourself to the cause. its spirit is promising, yes, but its reality can kill you." his late sister was an active student-leader during the martial rule. she disappeared and was never seen again. yet, he still waits.
shouyou nods in understanding, grateful. but he makes a silent vow never to forsake the fight. not under a marcos-duterte regime. not ever. he will do it for natsu, he will do it for their mama. he'll turn this rage into something meaningful.
-
to tobio:
jgh, wasn't able to cast my vote T^T
from tobio:
tanga. why???
to tobio:
they said the vcm's broken. didn't trust them enough to leave my ballot in their care. couldn't wait, couldn't stay out past 7 pm. couldn't let natsu starve. i had no friggin' choice and i hate it!!! what's more, what's worse, i wasn't alone.
from tobio:
ok, see you tomorrow.
they arrived in intramuros one by one. they wore caps and masks, brought extra shirts, and prepared aliases just in case. they were among those who fiercely marched to liwasang bonifacio, among those who chanted "comelec! palpak! panagutin!". they took part in the first of many more mobilizations to happen in the next six years … or so, demanding only one thing: justice.