Chapter 29: Heart in the Darkness
Ifugao's fierce determination to stop Hustisya led to frequent clashes right in the town of Plaridel.
One particular night, the battle raged across Plaridel's dark alleys, where Hustisya and the Spanish forces met head-on, her resolve burning like a wildfire.
In the midst of her fight against the Spaniards, Ifugao once again descended to halt her rampage of vengeance. He landed directly in front of her, his white hair gleaming under the moonlight.
"Enough, Hustisya!" he yelled, his voice echoing with conviction.
Hustisya's eyes flared with rage upon seeing Ifugao again. "Why are you here once more? Are you truly set on opposing me?" she shouted, her voice thick with hatred.
"I am not your enemy!" Ifugao insisted, raising his hands in a fighting stance. "We both want to help our fellow Filipinos. I support your goal, but not your dangerous methods! This is not the justice Plaridel needs!"
"Don't lecture me on what I should do!" Hustisya snarled, knowing Ifugao was committed to stopping her, and thus daring him to try. "If you are so serious about defending the Spaniards, then try to stop me from killing them!"
Their confrontation ignited again, a desperate dance of warriors, though they knew their weapons were useless against each other. Only powerful physical blows could bypass their durable body protections. Ifugao seized Hustisya's arm and flung her to the ground, her body hitting the cement with a loud impact.
But even while prone, Hustisya swept Ifugao's legs, causing him to tumble beside her. She aimed a powerful kick, but Ifugao blocked it with his arm and pushed her away.
As Ifugao rose, Hustisya charged, delivering a heavy punch to his chest that sent him flying backward, yet he refused to fall. Regaining his balance, he lunged forward, punching Hustisya across the face, causing the woman to slump down by the side of the street.
"I don't want to hurt a woman, so please, stop now!"
She immediately rose and attacked with the speed of lightning. Hustisya used her telekinesis to grab a piece of scattered metal and slammed it at Ifugao, who parried the blow with his hand. Their mutual determination blazed with every exchange of attacks, clearly visible in their eyes—neither of them planned on giving up. They exchanged punches and kicks again, their movements a warlike ballet, every attack met by another.
Moments later, Hustisya managed to grab Ifugao with her telekinesis and slammed him against a wall, but Ifugao quickly sprang back.
'She really is strong,' he whispered to himself. Ifugao delivered a kick to Hustisya's abdomen, making her fall to the ground. He noticed her weakness against physical attacks and wondered why some of his enemy's attacks could break his body's protection.
Hustisya mentally controlled rocks from a nearby area and hurled them at Ifugao, who dodged by leaping. The fight continued, their bodies covered in dirt and minor wounds, but neither would yield. The woman they had saved from the Spaniards had long escaped, but neither Hustisya nor Ifugao seemed willing to stop their conflict.
"Hustisya, there is still time to end this!" Ifugao pleaded, his voice filled with sorrow. "Is this truly what you want?"
"You chose this fight! You side with the Spaniards and fight me instead of helping me save the people of Plaridel!" Hustisya yelled. She managed to punch Ifugao in the face, forcing him to retreat. But Ifugao quickly recovered, immediately grappling Hustisya and throwing her against the alley wall again. Her body fell to the ground, briefly stunned and exhausted from the fight. Hustisya knew her energy was limited, especially since she had been using her ability to control objects around her for a long time.
In the middle of their fight, police sirens blared again, stopping them from continuing the battle.
"This isn't over, Ifugao!" Hustisya shouted as she disappeared into the darkness. "The next time you interfere, I will make sure it's your end!"
"I won't give up, Hustisya!" Ifugao called out, his voice full of courage.
Left alone in the alley, Ifugao's body felt weary, but his heart was burning with conviction. He knew this battle was only the beginning of a larger war between them.
👩🏻 Georgia's POV
Morning in Plaridel dawned brightly, the sunlight gently touching my skin as I arranged our market stall. Next to me, Erik was busy organizing the baskets of fish, his hands careful yet quick as he transferred the fish we were selling.
We had been together for two weeks, and with each passing day, a strange warmth wrapped around my chest. I couldn't explain it, but whenever he smiled or helped me, I couldn't help but feel happy. I didn't know why my cheeks would blush just thinking about how caring he was towards me. Now, as I watched him work, I noticed the sweat glistening on his brow, and before I could stop myself, I took out my handkerchief to wipe it away.
"Erik, you're sweating," I said, trying to hide the slight tremor in my voice. I held out the handkerchief, but he looked at me, his eyes mixed with surprise, and then he smiled.
"Thanks, Georgia," he replied, his tone as casual as ever, devoid of any deeper emotion. He took the handkerchief from my hand and wiped himself, as if my gesture had no special meaning. I don't know if he noticed, but I wanted to take care of him. I wanted him to see that I could care for him too.
I looked down, suddenly ashamed of my thoughts at that moment. I wondered about what was running through my mind. Why am I like this? Why did I do that? I felt so silly.
I hadn't realized I was falling for him because of every small thing he did, but I felt that to him, I was just a friend by his side. His kindness, his care—it was all natural for him. But for me, it was significant and brought a joy to my heart that I couldn't understand.
As we sold our goods, I noticed every small detail about him—how he arranged the fish to look more appealing, how he bantered with customers with an enthusiastic smile, how his eyes lit up when he joked and laughed, as if he truly enjoyed my company.
At one point, a small girl approached our stall, holding a five-peso coin. "Kuya, just a small fish, please, for my sibling's and my lunch," the poor child said.
Erik immediately smiled as he selected a few small fish from the basket. "Here, it's free, I'm sorry this is all I can give," he said as he handed them to the girl.
The child's sad face transformed into joy as she accepted the fish, her eyes sparkling with gratitude.
"Thank you, Kuya!" she yelled, and quickly ran off. I looked at Erik, unable to stop myself from smiling at his kindness.
But at the same time, I thought about my own behavior. Why does even his simplest act of goodness make my heart beat faster? I saw how good of a person he was, and it was as if I delighted in it.
After selling out, we decided to buy vegetables and meat for lunch. As we walked through the market, Erik stopped at a flower shop. "Georgia, look at these roses, aren't they beautiful?" he said, holding a vibrant red flower. "Your house will look better with flowers." He said with a smile on his lips.
I laughed at his simplicity, but because I couldn't grasp his reasoning, I asked him. "Are you sure, Erik? Why would you buy flowers? We don't need those!" I said.
"Just to add a little color to our surroundings at home," he replied, smiling as he bought the rose. He handed it to me and asked, "Put it in a vase when we get home, okay?"
I just nodded, but as I held the rose, it felt as if something warm had blossomed in my heart. I imagined that he gave it to me as a gift, like a man courting a woman does, but even though it was just foolishness, why did I feel a hope that he would do that? I couldn't admit it to myself, but I was growing closer to Erik, and I was afraid that I was the only one feeling this way.
On the way home, I noticed an elderly woman struggling with a basket of vegetables. Erik immediately hurried to help her. "Nay, I'll carry that," he said, taking the basket and escorting her to her house.
I watched him from a distance, smiling, but growing more confused. Why is he so kind, even to strangers? What does he think of himself? A saint, a hero, or maybe a prince in a story? Why is he so good to everyone? But I knew that everything he did, even for others, still gave me butterflies.
When we arrived home, we decided to clean up before cooking. Erik grabbed the broom and started sweeping the yard, while I washed the dishes in the kitchen.
Occasionally, I would peek through the window, watching him work. His polo shirt was soaked with sweat, but he continued as if tireless. He caught me looking and just smiled. "Georgia, I'll help you with that once I'm done!" he called out from outside.
"No need, I can handle it!" I shouted back, but inside, I wished he would help me with every chore. Why am I like this? Every little thing he did, even a simple offer to help, made my heart nervous.
When he finished, he entered the kitchen, carrying a bucket of water. "Georgia, let's put water in the vase for the flower," he said, and together we searched for one.
As we arranged the rose, we talked about the market, our customers, and our plans for tomorrow. In the middle of our conversation, I made a joke, and he suddenly burst out laughing, the sound of his laughter like music to my ears. I just stared at him while he laughed, seemingly focused only on his face, and I panicked when he noticed my gaze.
"What? Is there dirt on my face?" he asked, touching his cheek.
"N-No!" I stammered, quickly looking away. "Don't mind me, your laugh is just ugly!" I joked, trying to cover my nervousness.
"Well, your jokes are even uglier!" he retorted, and we both laughed. But inside, I remained confused. Why do I feel this way? I want to always be near him, but I'm also afraid to learn that he doesn't feel the same things I feel for him. I'm afraid to admit to myself that I'm falling hard for Erik, afraid of the pain if I fail in my first love.
🛑 End of Georgia's POV
That night, while most of Plaridel slept, an unthinkable situation was unfolding in Bulacan.
In a large factory outside of town, where workers produced cabinets, tables, and other household items, the Filipino laborers were enduring inhuman working conditions. Their wages were meager, barely enough for daily survival, and the Spanish overseers were merciless about their conditions inside the hot warehouse, forbidding the workers from going home to their families. Many people were exhausted, their bodies aching from intense labor all day, but they had no choice but to comply. They were treated as slaves in that place with no right to stop working.
Inside the factory, the noise of the machines echoed, accompanied by the harsh shouts of the overseers.
"Hurry up! You work too slowly, you despicable indios!" a Spaniard yelled as he hit a worker's table for a mistake in assembling a chair. The worker, a man in his forties, bowed before the overseer, his hands trembling with fear.
"Forgive me, señor," he whispered, but a powerful slap knocked him to the floor.
"You have no right to ask for forgiveness! You need to work, or I will have the guard whip you!" the Spaniard hissed. He continued his rounds in the warehouse. At the other end of the factory, a young woman cried while polishing wood, her hands numb and blistered from repeatedly sanding the wood.
"Stop crying! Are you slowing down your work? Well, I'm adding two more hours, and you're not allowed to rest!" another Spaniard shouted as he pushed her, causing the woman to fall to the ground.
One day, the Governor-General of Bulacan arrived, a tall Spaniard with cold eyes. Accompanied by his staff, he inspected the factory, looking at the workers who were soaked in sweat and exhaustion. In one corner, he noticed a young boy, barely twelve years old, struggling to lift a heavy plank.
"What is this? A child working here?" he asked, his tone indifferent.
"Señor, he is the son of an indio. We need additional hands to meet the deadline; our older workers are too weak to work for long," a supervisor answered, bowing his head.
"That's right, and if necessary, increase their working hours!" the General shouted. "We need to produce more goods. It's unacceptable to the clients if we are late in delivering the products!" He looked at the workers and yelled. "If you don't produce more goods, your families will starve!" The workers lowered their gaze and seemed paralyzed with fear. They knew the penalties for defiance—imprisonment, whipping, or worse.
In another section, a worker made a mistake in assembling a cabinet, and a Spanish overseer dragged him to the front. "How many more times will you make a mistake? You are useless!" the Spaniard shouted as he shoved the man against the wall. The worker cried out in pain, but no one dared to intervene. "If you want to live, do your job correctly!" the Spaniard threatened, and walked away as if nothing had happened.
As the General continued his inspection, a police official arrived, carrying documents. "General, report from Plaridel," the official said, handing him the papers.
The General read the document, and his face changed from calm to intense anger. "Useless fools!" he roared, crushing the document. "Hustisya is just an indio woman, and you can't catch her? Her foolishness in Plaridel is affecting us too much!" His voice echoed through the factory, striking fear into the workers.
"Order our forces to go to Plaridel; I want you to search every corner of the town!" he commanded the police officer. "I will not allow that woman to continue her disrespect for our authority! Mobilize all our forces for a massive manhunt!" His men saluted and left, ready to execute his order.
The next day, the people of Plaridel woke up to chaos. Dozens of police officers swarmed the town, from the market to the squatter areas. Soldiers set up barricades, and every house was entered and searched. "Anyone who dares to help Hustisya will face severe punishment!" a police officer shouted to the people who were chilled with fear.
In the market, where vendors sold vegetables and fish, the police rushed in. One elderly vendor, Aling Rosa, was the first they apprehended.
"Hey, old woman! Do you know anything about Hustisya?" a police officer asked, his voice sharp.
"N-Nothing, señor," Aling Rosa stammered, her hands trembling as she held her basket of fish. "I'm just selling here."
"Don't lie!" the officer yelled, grabbing the basket and scattering the fish on the ground. "We know someone is helping Hustisya here! Tell the truth, or we will drag you to the precinct!"
Aling Rosa cried, her knees shaking. "I don't know anything, please have mercy!" she screamed, but a police officer only kicked her basket, scattering the fish across the market floor. The people watching were stunned by the police's actions but no one dared to intervene, afraid they would be next.
At the other end of the market, a young man selling fruit, Juan, was being dragged out. "You, Juan, we know Hustisya helped you once!" another police officer shouted, pulling him from his stall. "Where is she hiding?"
"I-I don't know anything! She only helped me when I was robbed once, please have mercy on me," Juan pleaded, his voice trembling. But the police ignored him, dragging him toward the police car while he continued to shout, "I'm innocent!" The young man knew the punishment that awaited him once he was put in the Spanish jail, which is why he was crying so hard.
In a squatter area on the outskirts of Plaridel, the police raided the shanties, breaking down doors and ransacking belongings. A mother, Aling Nida, screamed as her twelve-year-old son, Ben, was seized. "Don't take him! He's just a child!" she cried while reaching for her son, but a police officer pushed her until she fell to the ground.
"Mother!" Ben sobbed, dragged toward the vehicle. "I didn't do anything! Hustisya only helped me when I was attacked by thieves!"
"Don't lie! Many saw you talking to her!" the officer yelled and slapped the child, making him kneel on the ground until blood came from his lip. Although many were present and witnessing the abuse done by the police, no one dared to help.
In another shanty, a young woman, Clara, was also arrested by the police. "You, we know you are an accomplice of Hustisya!" a police officer shouted, gripping her arm tightly. "Where is she hiding?"
"I don't know anything! Please, I'm just a student!" Clara cried, dragged and shoved into the vehicle with the other arrestees. Her mother screamed while pulling at the police, "My daughter! Don't take her!" but a police officer kicked her, and she fell to the floor, unable to do anything but cry while begging people to help her daughter.
By the river, where women were doing laundry, the police arrived. They apprehended a woman washing clothes in the river. "You, Mila, we know Hustisya helped you!" a police officer shouted, pulling her from the river, her clothes soaking wet.
"I don't know anything! She only saved me from drunks!" Aling Mila cried, but they didn't listen and immediately dragged her, making her stumble in the mud. As the woman was being dragged, her eight-year-old son suddenly shouted, "Mama!" and ran to hug her, but a police officer blocked him and pushed the child down to the ground.
"Stop crying! Criminals have no right to pity!" the officer shouted, and forcefully dragged Aling Mila toward the vehicle. The women by the river were paralyzed, their hands trembling at the cruelty they witnessed, but no one dared to intervene, afraid of the police's guns.
In the Plaridel plaza, once a place for laughter and conversation, now echoed with the shouts of the police and the cries of the Filipinos. A ten-year-old boy, Kiko, cried as his mother was dragged away. "Mama! Don't take her!" he yelled while clinging to her arm, but a police officer kicked him and mercilessly dragged her away.
"Help us! I'm begging you!" Kiko pleaded, but no one answered. The people in the plaza just shook their heads, their eyes full of terror. Even those whom Hustisya had once helped—vendors, farmers, students—were arrested. Nothing else could be heard in the area but the pleas of the Filipinos, their voices full of desperation because they knew the punishment awaiting them, but no one wanted to listen to their cries.
Fear enveloped all of Plaridel, the hearts of the Filipinos filled with dread and hopelessness. It was clear from the events that the Spaniards reigned supreme in Plaridel, and the Filipinos there were merely like slaves in their own land. Amidst the chaos, one question remained for many: Where is Hustisya? When will she return to save the desperate Filipinos? The people prayed for salvation, but in those moments, not even Hustisya's shadow could be seen.
"Where are you, Hustisya, please help us," a child prayed while kneeling and looking up at the sky.
End of Chapter.