Chapter 13: Accidental Involvement

It’s been a few weeks since Suliyao last returned to Cavite. He had been staying in Silay’s house without any issues. One evening, Silay came home late, holding a few shopping bags, which he handed over to Suliyao.

“Sorry I can’t sew clothes myself… But it must be uncomfortable to keep borrowing mine, so I bought you new ones.”

Suliyao had no issue with store-bought clothes or the ones he crafted himself. After all, it was just a preference.

He had many hobbies besides tailoring stylish clothes for Silay. Pottery, painting, writing… anything that counted as art, whether performing or not. He had lived long enough to experience the joy of creating something and giving his ideas form. Over time, with eras shifting and beliefs fading into history, he had seen many cultural changes; some outdated, some stubbornly clinging on.

Even so, there were beliefs he held close to his chest.

One of them: frugality.

Silay had been careful enough to remove the price tags before handing over the bags, but from the feel of the fabric, Suliyao could tell these weren’t designer clothes with flashy logos, nor were they fast fashion items.

Still, the younger man appreciated it, though he felt… awkward wearing them. It wasn’t that the clothes weren’t to his taste… but how much had Silay spent? Were healers, rather, Doctors paid that well these days?

Most mornings until night, Silay worked long shifts, leaving Suliyao alone in the house. During that time, Suliyao prepared lessons for him.

At night, before bed, Suliyao would patiently teach the man basic greetings in sign language, making him memorize each gesture before letting him sleep.

Since Silay was a fast learner, Suliyao often needed to prepare three lessons in advance just to keep up. If something didn’t work out, he would scroll through the web for extra materials.

Few people knew FSL had existed for centuries, with records of Deaf Filipinos using sign language as far back as the 1590s. Despite outside influences like ASL, Filipino Sign Language developed its own structure, gestures, and expressions shaped by Filipino culture. It was only in 2018 that FSL was officially recognized as the national sign language, pushing for its use in education, media, and government services.

In some communities, people even snuck signs into poetry, dances, or graffiti—hidden conversations only those fluent would notice.

Suliyao signed with precise, minimal movements. His hands carved the signs cleanly, like he measured every flick of his wrist. His expressions stayed neutral unless the grammar required them.

He exerts more expressiveness when only signing to Silay.

Silay, meanwhile, signed like he spoke. With a warmth he wasn’t aware of. His gestures had softness, his fingers lingering or curving a little more than needed, as if he poured quiet meaning into the air.

Maybe because that's how he talked with his patients. With kindness and patience.

Over time, their habits bled into each other.

Silay unconsciously copied Suliyao’s sharp brow raise or clipped hand flick, while Suliyao found his signs slowing, his fingers shaping gestures just slightly gentler, just slightly like Silay.

They never pointed it out. Language simply stitched them closer without needing permission.

* * *

[I need to go back to the village,] Suliyao gestured, his hands moving with practiced control, the tips of his fingers brushing his chest lightly before curling toward his side, a gesture weighted with urgency. [Tonight.]

Silay, who was crouched by the door tying his shoes, paused mid-loop. “Let me escort you,” he offered, standing upright, his brow creasing in quiet concern.

Suliyao shook his head firmly, palm slicing the air in a definitive refusal. His next signs slowed, precise yet sharp, as if spelling danger into the space between them: [It’s dangerous. Someone breached the village’s barrier.]

Since Silay had started understanding full sentences, Suliyao always signed deliberately, adjusting his pace so their conversations could flow without pressure. His telepathic voice—the one that used to echo in Silay’s mind—had become rare, replaced by this steady rhythm of hands and fingers.

Silay, though… couldn’t help but miss that voice.

“Breached?” Silay tilted his head, brows knitting together. His hand rose, fingers pinched like holding something small, then flicked forward, the sign for ‘thief’ shaped carefully. [A thief?]

Suliyao’s eyes narrowed. His fingers moved in a small circle near his chest, then spread outward like parting fog. As if searching, [I’ll check it out.]

“Okay, just call or message me.” Silay stood, reaching for the doorknob. “Excuse me, Mr. Laya, you’re in the way.”

Suliyao blocked the exit. His hand formed a claw-like hand shape, bringing it towards his face, then pulling it up and away with a forceful motion. He showed a slight facial expression. A slight nod of the head and a raised eyebrow. 

[Are you angry?]

Silay adjusted the strap of his satchel across his shoulder, his expression unreadable as he returned the sign, [Why would I?]

Suliyao exhaled, his shoulders relaxing as his voice threaded softly into Silay’s mind like the faint sound of distant bells, “Okay… please give me a ride. Later.” 

He finally stepped aside from the door, eyes following the other man.

Silay’s lips curved, the serious crease on his brows easing. “See you later. Wait for me here.”

As the door clicked shut, Suliyao stayed rooted in place, his hand still hovering near where the knob had been.

Am I… spoiling the Doctor too much?

* * *

Night came, though it wasn’t even that late yet.

Suliyao remained clueless how Silay always managed to slip out of the hospital earlier than his shift supposedly ended. Still, here they were—inside the Doctor’s car, heading to Cavite. What’s different this time was the backseat situation. Two additional people boarded: Li Clemente and Itel Bustamante, both wearing suspicious faces.

Honestly, Suliyao didn’t even know how three doctors consecutively managed to abandon their posts.

“Stop glaring at him.” Silay declared flatly as he adjusted the rearview mirror and fastened his seatbelt, locking the doors with a quiet click.

“I’m your childhood friend, and that one’s a stranger. Why’s he in the passenger seat?” Li protested, visibly displeased.

“You want Itel and Suliyao to sit together, then?” The man then paused, as if remembering something. Silay shivered slightly, his face twitching. “You’re permanently banned from my passenger seat.”

“What? Why?” Li exclaimed, scandalized.

Silay hesitated. His throat bobbed before a single vague word escaped, “Nothing…”

“I knew it. He’s the reason you’re so distracted.” Li leaned forward, arms crossed. “You’re going to get underpaid at this rate with all the hospital hours you’re wasting. Worse, you’ll endanger your patients.”

“Don’t cross the line, Leandro Ismael.” Silay’s voice sharpened. His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “You know I’d never risk other people’s lives.”

Itel, seated beside Li, zipped her jacket halfway, her lips pressing tight. She came expecting a petty squabble between childhood friends, but the atmosphere was far heavier than she anticipated. Her eyes drifted toward Suliyao in the front passenger seat, who sat unnervingly calm, expression unreadable. That unsettled her even more.

Li wasn’t done. “Fine, you won’t put others at risk. But yourself? That’s another story.” His voice lowered. “You picked up a stranger somewhere, and now he’s living inside your house? For weeks?”

“That’s how you get to know someone.” Silay’s jaw clenched.

“It’s not how normal people do it. You’re not thinking straight. Don’t you find it suspicious? Ever since he showed up, strange things keep happening. You’re acting weird, Silay. Your father’s going to—”

Suddenly, a soft mechanical click echoed. The car’s locks disengaged, the doors popping open.

Suliyao had quietly slipped out. His hand never touched the controls, and neither did Silay’s.

Alarm spiked in Silay’s chest. He unbuckled his seatbelt in a rush and scrambled out after him.

Li and Itel reacted immediately, following in quick strides.

“Silay!” Li called, reaching him first with his longer legs. His hand wrapped around Silay’s wrist, halting him mid-step. “Have you lost your mind?!”

Li’s normally composed voice roared with uncharacteristic anger, his grip tightening.

“Let go of me.” Silay hissed, struggling to pull free, his face set in irritation. “I don’t want to argue.”

Before either could escalate further, Itel slipped between them, grabbing both of their ears with firm fingers and yanking them down to her level.

“Come to your senses! You’re adults, talk it out properly,” she snapped, tugging harder until they both winced. “There’s clearly a misunderstanding. I’ll chase after Mr. Laya, you two can fix your drama.”

The men groaned, glaring briefly but nodding under the pressure of her fingers. Itel released their reddened ears and shoved them together before sprinting off down the path Suliyao had taken.

Silay exhaled, rubbing his ear. “…”

Li ran a hand down his face, sighing, “I’m sorry.”

Silay’s gaze flickered to his wrist, faint red marks already appearing. 

“That must’ve hurt,” Li muttered, gently turning his wrist over to inspect it. His voice softened. “Let’s patch that up first… then we’ll go find Itel and Mr. Lipol.”

* * *

Itel sprinted after Suliyao, her shoes barely making a sound as she trailed his figure slipping into the quiet street.

Suliyao, ahead, weaved through the sparse sidewalk, his steps quick but not frantic. His eyes scanned every corner, clearly searching for someplace away from the public. Somewhere isolated.

But in his distraction, he didn’t notice how close Itel had gotten.

Just a few more seconds, her hand reached out, almost brushing his shoulder.

That’s when she saw it.

The faintest dusting of gold shimmered in his eyes, glowing like sunlight splintering through broken glass. His irises gleamed unnaturally, and suddenly, the world cracked apart.

Itel’s stomach twisted, the ground beneath her pulsing like it was bending. Her knees buckled as vertigo hit, but she forced herself to speak, breathless, “Excuse Li’s attitude… He’s just worried. Those two have been joined at the hip since they were little so—”

But when she looked up, her words evaporated mid-sentence.

The streets of Manila, the neighborhood… gone.

Instead, towering Salingbobog trees stretched over her, their pale blossoms swaying in the cool, fragrant air. The earthy scent of soil, wood, and old forest surrounded her.

Itel sat on the ground, dazed. Her hands pressed against soft grass, not concrete.

“What…?”

Suliyao stood a few paces ahead, hunched slightly, his posture strained. His skin glistened faintly with sweat, his breathing uneven. His energy cracked like a fragile sheet under pressure.

This was no casual trick.

Despite the time he spent sleeping in Silay’s house, or preparing their sign language lessons idly, Suliyao’s condition hadn’t fully recovered. His soul was incomplete. His spiritual foundation was halved, and fractured at that.

His first time successfully dragging another human through long-range teleportation… it came at a painful cost.

Itel clutched at her chest, still breathless, before her voice rose weakly, “D-Did we just… teleport?!”

Things just got extremely complicated.

Author’s Note:

Funfact! “LI” is an acronym for Leandro Ismael. Unlike other name acronyms for long names that are pronounced as their letters, the ‘Li’ is pronounced as a syllable. Li’s full name is Leandro Ismael Clemente.