Inside the classroom, Yani sat in the center row. It was Wednesday, wash day, meaning that students were allowed to wear civilian clothes. Of course, like always, Yani grabbed this as an opportunity to wear a long black coat unfit for the hot and humid climate, a shirt with skeleton designs, flared out pants of the same shade, and his mandatory silver cross necklace.

He tried his best to sit still and stay unnoticed, but how could he when his classmates behind him are talking about his all time favorite anime series?

The two boys behind him were chatting, “Bro, that Death Note musical would definitely make it big soon.”

“I mean, yeah. It’s a pretty popular anime.”

“And the songs? A bop.”

Yani turned around, unable to help himself, “You guys saw the clips too? It’s so cool, right?” He chimed—face very bright.

His classmates look at each other—hinting confusion, surprise, and judgement. They even eyed Yani’s aesthetic as of the moment—weirded out.

One of the boys responded, “Yeah… It’s pretty nice.” He smiled politely. He’s never really talked with Yani, so he ended up stiff.

His friend followed, “You like Death Note too?”

Yani leaned forward, “Absolutely! The plot is so cool. A shinigami that’s there for fun? Nuanced characters? Like that’s peak anime over there. Misa’s fashion sense too. She’s so pretty and almost gothic-looking in some official arts. I sometimes envision a real life shinigami, you know? That would be so fun!”

As Yani rambled, his classmates looked at each other again—uncomfortable. One of them cleared his throat, “Uhm… we’ll just head to the toilet.”

Like always, Yani was left hanging. He sighed, and turned around to face the board once again. With an almost saddened expression, he decided to simply scroll through his phone. Just then, a man wearing weaved traditional-inspired modern clothes sat beside him. 

“I think L shouldn’t have died.” Kris casually whispered, not even looking at Yani.

This made Yani cheer up a bit. You’re just trying to make me feel better. Not so rigid after all. “Yeah! Like, it doesn’t make any sense. Near simply had plot armor.”

And after a few minutes of Kris listening to his rambles, the class began.

Mid-session, Yani was already about to fall asleep. After all, it’s not like Theology classes are the most exciting.

Their professor kept on discussing, “And that is why interreligious dialogue is important. Even though other religions do not believe in God, they are his creations. All we must do is spread our love for all. Eventually, some people may even want to become Christians too. In His eyes, we are all equal and worthy of respect no matter our gender, culture, and beliefs.”

3:00 PM

Yani and Kris are now on a bus bound for a mission given by the Baylanes. For Kris, it was informed to him yesterday. But for Yani, it was a completely spontaneous decision by Kris himself to tag the latter along.

Yani looked at Kris, “Uhm… Why am I here again? I’m not even a part of the Baylanes.”

“You’re useful.”

“And where are we going?”

“Diliman”

“Because?”

“No more questions.”

Yani grumpily and intentionally bumped his shoulder against Kris.

Kris sighed, “Anyway, what was that back there?”

“What was what?”

“The pathetic Death Note small talk.”

“Uhm, I was just trying to make friends and fit in?”

“Why?”

“Because I have no friends.”

“Didn’t I already tell you that you don’t need to fit in?”

“But I wanted to talk about my niche too… And I thought they were my people.”

A pause.

“Just nerd out with me.”

A road hump.

Yani blinked, and nodded. “Sure… But tell me about something.”

“What?”

“How are you so confident with yourself? I mean, you have a niche aesthetic too.”

Kris looked up, thinking about it. “Not really. I still struggle sometimes as well.”

Flashback, Kris’s Childhood

Kris, only around the age of seven, watched his older sister, Kalis, dance for a tribal ritual. It was for what their town calls a Manganito. A sacred ritual to protect the land.

The young boy was enchanted. He found his sister’s dance to put him in an allured trance. The way her hair swayed and fell on her hips, the way her skirt’s ruffles bent as it swung around. Kris held his own clothes, thinking, Can I be that pretty too?

One day, when his sister was weaving some cloth, he hopped on her lap. Kalis chuckled, and caressed his hair back. “What does the little prince want from me?”

Kris grasped her weaved clothes. “Ate, can I wear one too?”

Kalis kept playing with his hair. “Of course, you can. How about joining me for the dance next time?”

Kris’s face brightened, “I will, I will!” He kept bouncing happily.

With the weaved skirt worn by Kris, he excitedly went outside to play with his neighbors. “Hey guys!”

His neighbors spotted him, and questioned, “Why are you wearing a skirt?”

Kris tilted his head, “My sister made it. It’s pretty, right?” He showed a proud little twirl. This made his neighbors scowl.

“Boys don’t wear skirts.” One of them suggested.

“Huh? But why? It’s pretty.”

“Only girls wear skirts. That’s gross, Kris!”

Suddenly, another boy threw a rock at him, “Bading! Bading! You’re gay!”

That day, Kris walked home, crying with his clothes dirty, and his skin filled with bruises. Had his hands over his eyes—feeling a deep emotional pain for the first time in his life.

Kalis, who was weaving another fabric, immediately rushed to where the cry was from. When she saw her little brother in that state, she quickly knelt before him, and held his arms. “Kris, what happened?!” She said in a panic.

Interrupted by hiccups, he uttered, “T-They said- They said that boys sh- shouldn’t wear skirts. And- and that I’m Bading- Gay…”

Kalis pulled Kris in a tight hug, “No, they’re wrong. Don’t listen to them.”

“But- But I’m gay. I don’t want to be gay!” Kris didn’t even understand what he was saying. He didn’t even know what being gay meant. All he knew is that being one equates to getting hurt.

Kalis quickly shook her head, and wiped his tears. “Kris, there’s nothing wrong with being gay. And there’s nothing wrong with a man wearing a skirt.”

“But they said that-”

“They’re wrong.”

Kalis sighed, and calmed down. She then decided to show Yani something that he’s not old enough to know yet.

“Kris, wearing a skirt… Wearing pretty clothes. That makes you stronger. It gives you power.”

Kris tried to control his sniffling, “Power?”

“When you have a softer and feminine look, you are more admired by the spirits. And, that comes with a gift.”

Kalis opened her palm, and a butterfly built with shimmers and light hovered gently over it.

Kris’s teary eyes reflected the enchanting flutters. “That’s so pretty!”

Present Day

Yani smiled softly, “I see… No wonder you understood how it felt.”

“Yeah. Without my sister, I wouldn’t have been able to have courage to be myself. But, I did end up tolerating so many assholes, though.”

Yani chuckled, then calmly, “But I’m sure it still affects you.”

A pause.

“Yeah.” Kris looked outside the bus window. “I’m not comfortable with being called gay. I’m not gay. I hate being stereotyped. I just… love pretty things.”

Yani blinked.

“Oh.”

Kris looked at him, “Oh?”

“Uhm… It’s just- You don’t hate gay people, right?”

Kris’s eyes widened, and immediately waved his hands in disagreement. “No! Absolutely not. I’m not homophobic. It’s just that the thought leaves a bitter taste, is all. I don’t mean-”

Yani sighed, and held Kris’s arms. “No need to explain yourself. I just wanted to clarify. I’m actually bisexual, so yeah. I like men too, and I don’t want you to hate me.”

Kris halted. “Oh.” 

Randomly, Kris asked to break the awkward air, “So what’s your type then?”

Yani almost choked on his saliva. “ I- I mean, if you ask me… I guess masculine guys with biceps and a chiseled jawline? Or taller women? WAIT, DON’T- UGH, THIS IS EMBARRASSING.”

Kris clicked his tongue upon hearing Yani’s type, “Of course.” Then included, “But feminine guys are better.” He whispered to himself—ensuring Yani wouldn’t hear.

For the rest of the ride, Kris was stuck in thought. Ideal type? Gender preferences? Do I even have any of those? I’ve never really found anyone attractive. Male or female. Those things are superficial.

4:00 PM

They’re now checking on a sickly child. The mother explained, “I think it’s kulam. Someone must have done something for him to be this way.”

Kris assessed the little boy’s palms—feeling his energy. “That’s possible. I can feel some malicious intent, but it’s not too strong.”

Yani looked at the kid. The boy was merely sick. He has a high week-long fever, and that’s it. A mangkukulam would do so much worse than that, and he knows it. Why do people immediately assume it’s our fault? “It’s not kulam, Kris.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I know how kulam works, and it’s not like that.”

“Alright, then. Use your seventh sense.”

Yani sat beside Kris, and held the boy’s arm.

Playing with friends.

Heading home after sun down.

Going off trail.

… Stepping on an ant mound.

“I know what’s the problem.”

Yani took Kris to the nearby patch of trees along the neighborhood. Kris opened, “A nuno? You think a nuno cursed him?”

“Yeah, he’s just sick. That would eventually get better even without intervention, but it would take a while. Since he stepped on an ant mound, he probably offended a nuno.”

A nuno is a spirit of an ancestor that became a part of the Earth. They’re there for guidance, and protection. Some may say that they are the wisest beings to exist. They know a lot of things that may be happening around the country. However, they are quite a petty bunch. When you destroy their house, they would lightly curse you with a fever.

“Tabi-tabi po.” Yani repeated—ensuring that he doesn’t offend any other possible spirits.

“Yani, over there.” Kris pointed at an ant mound under a Narra tree.

They both headed for the tree, and stopped before the mound. “Tao po? Nuno?” Yani called out.

From under the mound, a small head peeked out. “Why are you disturbing me?” A squeaky old male voice asked.

“We’d like to request for you to revoke the curse of a little boy that passed by here a few days ago.”

The nuno eyed the two of them, “Got any alay?”

Yani and Kris looked at each other. They have nothing.

Noting this, the nuno went back down the mound. “No alay, no nuno!”

Kris’s face soured. He’s never been good at interacting with a nuno. They’re always spoiled and entitled in getting what they want. He had no patience for this, so he took a step—about to step on the mound and force the nuno out.

“Hey!” Yani pulled him on his waist. “Don’t do that. The nuno is a great ancestor. We must respect him.”

They heard a muffled, “That’s true!” From under the mound. This made Kris’s expression of dismay tighten even more, and Yani scratched the back of his head, “Hehe.”

In a small sari-sari store, they bought a small bottle of lemon cider Sprite, and a Mr. Chippy snack. Yani paid for it both.

“I’d rather deal with another mambabarang than THAT thing.”

Yani pouted, “Come on. Show respect to your elders. You’re close with the anitos and diwatas, yet you dislike a nuno?”

“Different spirits, different attitudes.”

Yani and Kris came back to the spot, “Nuno? We have an alay here.” 

The nuno revealed his eyes again, and eyed the Mr. Chippy and Sprite. “No Pringles?”

Kris got even more annoyed, and almost stomped on the mound, but thankfully Yani was there to tug on his sides. “These are all we have.”

“Whatever, fine then.” The nuno finally got out of the mound. He was a short and stubby old man, only two feet tall, with very thin white hair, and a long beard. He waddled, and grabbed the snacks from Yani’s hand. “Alright.” The nuno clicked his fingers. “The kid’s fine now.”

Yani smiled, “Thank you so much!”

“Next time, bring Pringles.”

Yani nodded, and Kris grabbed the nuno from his nape like he was a cat being lifted by its mother. Yani was shocked, “Hey! What are you doing?”

The nuno wiggled around, “Drop me, young man. Don’t make me curse you too!”

Kris spoke, “While at it, make yourself useful.”

“You think I would help you when you’re treating me like this, huh?!”

Kris took out a piece of yema or caramel candy that he had bought from the sari-sari store earlier. The nuno wiggled himself to grab the yema from Kris’s hand, and gave in. “What do you need, boy?”

“We caught a mambabarang and found out that she was the one responsible for Quiapo albularyos’ disappearance. But, we found out that Ka Rene is missing. Mind telling us if you know anything?”

The nuno brushed his beard. “I don’t know what happened to Ka Rene, but I did hear that evil has been growing in Norzagaray. I think their best albularyo disappeared too.”