Dead Reckoning - A Gregorio del Pilar x Reader story

XIII - The Tilt Shift

"Pendejo?" He inquires upon seeing me. Perhaps, I've been standing in front of the opened door for far too long for him to catch me off guard. He chuckles lightly. "Mukha kang tangang nakatayo lang diyan. Akala ko nasa baba ka. Nakikisama sa pista."

I shake my head. "Wala ako sa modo. May naalala lang ako bigla sa nangyari kanina. Ikaw? Kala ko makikisaya ka. Sapagkat, ikaw ang nagplano noon, di ba? Yung sa kanina?" I chuckle dryly. "Sayang naman na wala ang puno't dulo kung bakit may pista."

He smirks confidently. "Sila na lang. Masaya na akong makita silang masaya." He looks outside, drawing his eyes downward this time than upward to the sky earlier I've caught him dazing. He shakes his head a little. "Isa pa, mahaba-haba pa ang lalakbayin natin para tuluyang magsaya. Magsasaya lamang ako kapag tuluyan nang malaya ang Pilipinas."

I bite my lower lip and shrug. "Siguro, naiintindihan ko sila. Hindi naman masamang mag-saya. Lalo na't alam naman natin na naging matagumpay ang naging plano niyo. Isang hakbang papalapit sa kalayaan."

Goyo stares at me for a second.

I frown. "Bakit?"

He shakes his head again. "Wala lang. Masaya lang ako na nakakuha ako ng baril." He laughs. "Alam mo ba na... ito ang pangunahin kong nais? Ang mapalitan ang baril ko?"

"A-Ano?"

"Narinig mo ang sinabi ko." He moves away from where he is, places his journal and pencil on the bed, and draws closer to take where a strange looking rifle is leaning on next to the familiar one that I've seen him using earlier today. He anchors it on his shoulder and arm, laughing. "Gusto kong palitan ang Remington ko ng mga ito. Mga Mauser. Mas magaganda ang mga putok ng mga ito kumpara sa mga mayroon ang marami sa ating mga kababayang sundalo. Siguro makakakuha pa tayo ng maraming ganito kapag unti-unti nating natalo lalo ang mga Espanyol."

I almost look at him in shock. I can't believe that he'll do such a feat just because he wanted to change his gun to something else. After all, for me, all of it are the same. They are all guns with the same usage; there's nothing different. Perhaps, except for the physical form, I get that, but for something beyond that? Well, for me, if it is still doing its purpose, why change it?

I ask, "Sinasabi mo ba... na pangalawa lang na nais ang mapalaya ang Paombong?"

He stops for a second and returns the gun from where it originally is before he gets it. He sighs heavily and leans by the window frame, crossing his arms across his chest. He looks on the floor. "Alam mo, Pendejo..." He starts before looking at me with the same flame that I've seen out of him when we've first met. Determined with full of life to the resolution that he is actually fighting for. Somehow, he is less scarier now than that time before. "Lumaki ako sa lalawigan na ito. Lumaki ako sa bansang ito. Walang mas higit pang makakapagbigay sa akin ng kasiyahan kung hindi malaman na ito'y malaya na. Na ang Pilipinas ay ganap ng malaya mula sa mga kamay ng Espanya."

"Nagbago ba iyon?"

"Madami nang... malalapit sa akin ang kinuha ng digmaan na ito. Hindi..." He shakes his head lightly with a small and sad smile. "Yung... Yung pinakamalapit na tao sa akin, yung taong... kilalang-kilala ako... kinuha na rin ng digmaan na ito. Wala akong ibang magawa kung hindi magpatuloy."

I look at him intently, waiting for him.

"Dahil kailangan kong mabuhay." He raises his head to look at me. "Kailangan kong mabuhay, (Y/N)."

I didn't realize that he called me just now by my name. However, because of the heaviness of the topic, I wasn't able to purge him regarding that. That for the first time, he didn't call me as 'Pendejo', and that he remembers my name. Or rather, he knows me.

Before I can even say anything, he pulls away from the window still and takes his journal and pencil again. He looks intently on the paper of his journal before turning away from me and asks, "Bigyan mo ako ng dalawang kulay. Yung kulay na, pinaka-gusto mo at yung pinaka-ayaw mo. Kailangan babagay sa pula."

"Ha? Para saan?" I ask him.

"Sa tingin mo, babagay ang kulay asul sa pula, ano?" He inquires, looking outside. His head slightly tilted toward the sky just as I notice an eagle spreading its strong wings after flapping them once, gliding then across the sky as it disappears toward the great unknown distance.

"Tsk... nagtanong ka pa kung ikaw rin pala ang sasagot sa tanong mo," I tell him.

He chuckles lightly. "Eh di yung pinaka-ayaw mong kulay na lang, kung ganoon."

"Itim," I answer before he could even give another color, but suddenly feeling shy about my answer. After all, it doesn't go well with blue and red. Perfect will be a yellow, make them all primary colors; or even a violet, make it a mixture of the first two. So, I explained, "Sabi ng marami, kapag raw may patay at nagluluksa ka, magsuot ka ng itim. Hindi sa ayaw ko ang itim. Nakaka... Nakakalungkot lang."

He turns to me slightly.

"Nakakalungkot lang yung kulay," I add.

It doesn't take long, a few days later, a message from Emilio Aguinaldo arrives in black ink for Comandante Gregorio H. Del Pilar; and, at the end of it, he was already a Teniente Coronel.

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A/N: Follow me on twitter @23meraki for more updates. ;)

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