n. a hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head-a crisp analysis, a cathartic dialogue, a devastating comeback-which serves as a kind of psychological batting cage where you can connect more deeply with people than in the small ball of everyday life, which is a frustratingly cautious game of change-up pitches, sacrifice bunts, and intentional walks.

* * *

I don't have any idea what causes his foul mood towards me, but he didn't contradict me when I asked him if he will let me tend to his wound. Instead, without a word, he sits on a large boulder and stares at the fire that had been tended close by. I follow his eyes for a second, noticing the question and forlorn on his eyes than his undefined hatred towards me. And my eyes didn't miss the twitch on the corner of his eyes, looking sharply and, for a second, at the rest of the gathered wounded soldiers, and women of the Cruz Roja on their works, without moving his head.

And then, I realize at once, that he is somehow guilty and sad. And he has no idea how to contain it but just through this behavior towards me.

I am about to tell him that I actually do not have any idea with diverse medicine. But I know that Isidro will not ask me for this if this will not be just some scratch. And I know little of first aids. I apologize under my breath as I try to clean the blood away from his wound with a towel. I notice him flinching but he remains immobile and unconcerned, and I just continue. Applying gentle pressure to clear it away.

The blood continues flowing but it isn't such a mess as earlier. From the medical kit given to me, there had been some few salves to surely help the wound to recover as soon as possible and without any scar. The soft murmurs and moans around the camp, as well as the crackle of the fire woods and the sound of the night, are our only consultation. I finish tending to his wounds after wrapping the crown of his head and his forehead with a bandage.

After ensuring that the bandage will not fall out, and I am about to start fixing the used items, his hand suddenly finds my wrist, stopping me from my work and causing me to freeze. I slowly look at him, a little afraid of what causes him to do so. And when I do match his eyes, I can see how golden they burn from the fire.

"Sino ka ba talaga?" he inquires, darkly and seriously.

I gulp in hard, remembering Isidro's introduction of me to stick to that lie, before earning my voice to answer, "(Y/N). Ang pangalan ko ay (Y/N). Bagong miyembro ako ng Cruz Roja."

He immediately takes his hand away and looks away. "Alam mo ba ang pinapasok mo?"

Sa totoo lang, hindi, I almost blurt out. But that is not the right answer to this question. And yet, I can't tell him that 'I do', since I am like making a fool of myself that way.

"Ikaw?" I turn the question back to him. "Alam mo ba kung ano itong pinasok mo?"

He turns back to me with that respective look as if to question me if I am sane enough to question that. Realizing that I am sure with what I've asked him, he answers, "'Wag na 'wag mong itatanong sa akin kung alam ko ba, dahil nasa dugo ko na ang lumaban. Hindi mo yata nalalaman ang pamilya ko. Simula pa lamang kay Tio Selong."

I am hurt. To be honest. But I do not have the right to feel that way; knowing that his words are also the truth.

He is right to tell me that I do not know anything about him. I just connect it right now; remembering that the great Illustrado, Marcelo, is also a del Pilar. And no doubt that they are related, indeed. History calls for one of their relatives to fight brought their younger relatives to the same fight. And I actually do not have any idea what lead him to this fight all along. That's what I want to know.

Of course, he was surely influenced by his uncle. But there has to be something else deeper than that alone.

He snickers his frustration and stands up, intent on walking away. "Walang kwenta."

I watch him walk away, heading to where Julian del Pilar, his brother, and Isidro are along with four others. I see Julian encircling an arm around him, ensuring that he is well as he looks at his bandaged head. Isidro, however, turns in my direction. I see the forlorn look on his face, a sad smile very visible despite the darkness and the fading light from the fireplace. I bite my lower lip and turn away, heading to where I last saw Soledad with the other members of the Cruz Roja.

My hands are shaking with unknown fear as I keep holding on the excess bandages and other herbs that had been earlier handed to me in order to clean the younger del Pilar's wound. And only when Soledad saw me, a warm smile out of her immediately turning to a worried one, make me wish to finally go home right now. Her and Isidro's presence are enough to make me realize that no matter how hard I try to let the truth that this is all a game sink in, I know that I'll never get used to this set-up.

I need to find a mango. Fast. Soon.

"Iha, ayos ka lang ba?" Soledad inquires, reaching to hold on to my arm. She looks incredibly worried, making me remember my own grandmother out of her. I am incredibly saddened all at once that I've been attached to her right away even though I've only known her in less than twenty-four hours, as well as with Isidro. Or perhaps, I am really worried that I am here for less than a day and too many things are happening.

I shake my head, just wishing to sit right now and be left alone.

Soledad takes the items from me and ushers me to sit by a long trunk of wood where the other ladies of the Cruz Roja are. The women had been oblivious of me, but when they see me, they just smile warmly, nod their heads in silent greeting, and continue on eating their shares of some rice soup. The strain had been visible on them, with the dirt and dry blood on their clothing, I know that it hadn't been an easy day for them as well. But compared to me, I am sure that they already know that this is the life that they are forced to live in.

Gaya nila Isidro at ni Julian at ni Goyo...

"Kumain ka muna, (Y/N)," Soledad tells me as she hands a cup of the same soup in my direction, pressing it against my hands to take. "Alam ko na nabigla ka sa mga pangyayari. Alam ko na hindi ka sanay at naninibago ka pa."

I chew the inside of my mouth. "Mukhang nasobrahan po ako sa paninibago."

She smiles sadly at me. "Hindi naman siguro naging mahirap na pilitin si iho na hayaang ikaw ang maglinis ng sugat niya, ano?"

It takes me a minute to realize who she is talking about. "Ah, ang Heneral del Pilar po ba?"

"Heneral?" She frowns at me.

Nyeta. Di pa nga pala heneral si Gregorio del Pilar sa panahon na ito.

"Ang ibig ko pong sabihin," I immediately correct myself. "Ang nakakabatang del Pilar po ba?"

Soledad nods, worried. "Kilala ko na ang batang iyon at ang kuya niya simula nung mga bata pa lamang sila. Maging ang mga kapatid pa nila. Ang gaganda ng mga ate nila, makisig ang kuya, at magiting din ang bunso kahit may pagkasakitin. Masasabi ko na nasa dugo na ng mga magkakapatid ang pakikihimagsik. Mababait naman ang mag-kuyang iyan."

I remember the cold treatment that Gregorio del Pilar had been throwing at me, compared to how friendly and easy-going his older brother, Julian del Pilar, is. And if my mission will involve a Gregorio del Pilar who shares the same character as Julian del Pilar, and how Soledad and Isidro consider him to be the kind person he surely is toward them, it will all be easy to handle. However, he had been different towards me. Is it because he knows who I really am?

I take a spoonful of the offered soup at me before answering, "Hindi lang po ata ako ang naninibago. Maging siya rin po."

She chuckles lightly though there's a hint of sadness in her tone that give me the urge to ask but decide not to. "Hayaan mo siya. Panigurado ay pagsisisihan niya rin iyon. Ngayon pa lamang nabinyagan yang batang iyan sa isang tunay na pakikipaglaban, maging silang mga kalalakihan na kasama niya ngayon. Kakilakilabot ang nangyari sa kanya at sa ating lahat ngayon. Nawawala si Maestrong Sebio, muntikan na siyang mamatay ngayon, at ang isa sa kanilang mga kababata ay namatay pa."

I shiver at that knowledge alone. She said that one of Isidro, Julian and Goyo's childhood friend died. One of their close companions. And now I wonder, how young the boy was. How young all of them truly are to be part of this fight. Wars are filled with children fighting a war waged by the older men.

"Naalala ko pa nung unang dumating sila sa Kakarong. Si Goyo mismo ang namumuno sa kanila, kahit kalahati sa kasama niya ay mas matatanda pa sa kanya. Tinatawag niya sila bilang ang Pitong Magigilas ng Pitpitan." The soft smile she earlier has as she remembers the fond memory of pride and courage disappears. "Kaso... tama nga sila. Walang pinipili si Kamatayan kapag panahon ng digmaan."

I turn another casual look at where I last saw Isidro standing with the del Pilar brothers and other men. And I figure out that Isidro, so to speak, is drawing closer to where I am. I immediately turn away and focus on the soup given to me, trying to distract myself as of now and wish that Isidro will not ask for me right now. But, perhaps, my prayer had been sent rather late than I intended.

Isidro first greets the other women, saying, "Magandang gabi, mga binibini at mga ginang."

The women greet him, too, with smiles. There had been few flirtatious ones from the younger ones.

"(Y/N)," Isidro calls to me with a soft voice. "Kailangan mo sumama sa akin ngayon."

I look at him through my peripherals, and I notice, in the faint glow of the fire burning, that his eyes are a little red due to tears. Not to mention that his voice as well is a little raspy than before the time we parted ways. I nod, knowing fully that he just lost a friend, too. I start to wonder if that friend is as young as he was, or even much younger than I am. I can't imagine life being stolen at such a young age.

Taking the soup with me, I excuse myself from the other members of the Cruz Roja and follow after wherever Isidro leads me. I keep quiet, letting the murmurs from other soldiers who've survived the fight and the sound of the night be our companion as I remain next to him. I realize that we're drawing farther away from where the rest of the camp is, and when I notice the presence of Julian, I know that Isidro is leading me to where the rest of their so-called "Seven Musketeers of Pitpitan" are... or perhaps, the remaining six.

"Siya nga pala, si (Y/N)," Isidro introduces me to the rest of the men. "Siya ang sinasabi ko na bagong miyembro ng Cruz Roja na tumulong sa paglilinis ng sugat ni Goyo."

I bow in their presence, noticing Gregorio del Pilar's quiet presence as he remains standing next to his brother and another taller man who remains crossing his arms across his chest. "Ikinagagalak ko po kayong makilala."

Isidro starts introducing them to me, skipping the del Pilar brothers to start on to that man on Goyo's other side-Juan Socorro, the del Pilars's brother-in-law; Adeodato Manahan; Felix De Jesus; and Melencio Manahan. Counting them, I notice that there remains seven of them, only later that I realized that the "Seven Musketeers of Pitpitan" were for Gregorio del Pilar to command. That they were his men.

Just as how d'Artagnan has the Three Musketeers.

"Ngayong magkakakilala na kayo sa isa't isa, hayaan na natin yung binibini bumalik," Goyo remarks with an exhausted sigh. Irritation still audible on his voice despite his trial to keep himself polite in front of his friends."Hindi na natin kailangan ng isa pang makikiramay ng walang kaalam-alam."

"Goyo naman," Adeodato scolds a little. Compared to the rest, he seems to be the one closest to Goyo's age, perhaps just a few months or even weeks younger than him. "Hayaan natin magdesisyon ang binibini."

I don't know what to say, but I understand that they are still grieving for the friend that they've lost. That the only reason that Isidro introduced me to them is because he is oblige to do so as my trusty companion in this game, and that he is the one who've asked me to look over Goyo's wound. He surely just wanted the rest to get acquainted with me and show me their gratitude for insuring that the worse is gone over another of their friend after losing another.

I bite my lower lip for a second and bow my head at them. With a small and soft voice, I say, "Nakikiramay po ako sa inyong pagkawala, mga ginoo. Alam ko po na kayo'y nagdadalamhati ngayon sa pagkawala ng inyo pong kaibigan, pero 'wag niyo pong pigilan ang sarili niyong mag-luksa. Ordinaryo lang po sa isang tao ang makaramdam ng lungkot, at iyakan ang isang taong naging malapit po sa inyo at nawala dahil sa digmaan na ito."

Without even lifting my head, I know who is the person who've strode right in front of me. The others call his name, trying to stop him from doing anything else. And though I wait for whatever he is about to do, like shoving me away and telling me that I do not have the right to say those words to them... he, instead, mocks and scolds me, "Wala ka talagang kaalam-alam, ano? Na sa panahon ng digmaan, walang panahon para magluksa."

And then, he walks away.

"Goyong," his brother calls out for him, just as the others as well do so. But it is only Julian who've followed after his younger brother, as if to ensure that Gregorio del Pilar is fine.

I bite my lower lip, accepting the truth of his words as it sinks in to me.

Tama nga siya. Wala talaga akong kaalam-alam.

* * *

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

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