Jiji no. 8

The Blacksmith

Xin Holder Viscus found himself staring on different random things just to fill the awkwardness he felt along in his walks, together with Lalaine Mishap. He cannot believe it. She was walking with the woman who almost killed him just because he just wanted to ask about where would that certain Blacksmith’s house could be found. He could’ve just trusted other random strangers instead of asking that woman whom he maybe was familiar, but a sadistic introverted woman. But technically, she was just like other people here in the Central Kingdom. A stranger. She’s still a stranger for him—and he’s a stranger for her too.

He sighed. There are a lot of people shouting and talking along their walks, but despite their noise, the spaces in between Holder and Lalaine were as if in the middle of the most intense cold war ever in history. They were not talking to each other. Not even looking at each other, or nodding or smiling as a sign of recognition or a signal that says ‘hey, I’m here. I cannot talk to you because I don’t have any idea what to talk about. But hey, this smile says I’m freakin’ aware that you’re here.’

He decided to look at her. Okay, just a glimpse. Just a small, single, snap-second glimpse to see whether she was still beside him or whether he was left by her. All the time, his head was c****d sideways, to the direction opposite to Lalaine. The crowd were especially heavy today, that is why he wouldn’t notice if his companion is still beside him or not—not of course if he would swallow his ego, and try to look at her.

When he finally decided to look in her direction, he stopped walking since his intuition was right. She is missing. She left him walking foolishly on the road, not knowing what or where to go. She disregarded Professor Zen Maxxes’ command to her.

He furiously went back to the way he travelled. He would go back to the palace and wait for the professor. If she asks about what happened and why he did not come to the anonymous Blacksmith’s lesson, he would say that it was because of that woman who wore beautiful red dress and has stunning forest eyes. She just left her walking in a place he wasn’t familiar to.

But when he turned his back, he immediately saw Lalaine in the crowd. He immediately saw her beauty despite too many people walking on the crowd, busily minding their businesses in the crowded city of Central Kingdom. He can see her because of her dress. That radiant, beautifully crafted dress which suits her insane facial features. The scarf that covers her face were now gone. From where he stood, he can see the beautiful smile twitching at Lalaine’s rosy lips as she look at the potions and random items offered by a stall in the corner of the road.

“Krrrr?”

Holder suddenly woke up in reality when Jiji purred and shook his head. He almost fell outbalanced when JIji shook him.

‘What the hell am I thinking?’ Holder asked to himself. He thinks Lalaine is beautiful. He sighed again to compose his broken calmed chest, and started to head towards her.

“Hey,” he called soon when he finally came near to Lalaine.

Lalaine looked at her. Her eyes suddenly widened for a second, as if she remembered something important.

“We’re supposed to go to the Blacksmith’s house, right?” Holder asked.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, I was distracted by these potions.”

Holder sighed. “You seem interested with potions. To what were those potions are?” he asked, and looked at the stall where Lalaine was looking at. He saw the owner of the store sitting on a wooden stool inside the stall. She has a white piece of cloth hooded on her head as she carry her baby, rocking her back and forth.

“Uh, hello Missis owner.” Holder smiled at the woman.

The woman seemed not to hear his greetings. She just pursed her lips, and let her baby drink milk from her breast.

“Just get and buy what you want. Leave the money there. And then leave,” she said.

Oh, it seemed that the woman was not fond of strangers too. Does that mean she was always this bitter when there are other customers wanting to buy in her store? How would she survive from that? From what he know, the vendors must be friendly in order to get their sweet customers. But she . . .

Was she having that kind of attitude all the time? How can she have customers for her merchandises, if she was imposing a bitter attitude?

“How much for this, Aunt Selena?” Lalaine then asked.

“Oh, that just costs seventy follings,” the woman then said with a smile on her face.

Wait, Holder is wrong. She was sweet at Lalaine. But for him, she seems as if she is having a menstrual period at the moment.

“For what potion was that, Lalaine?” Holder smiled to her as he asks.

Yet, Lalaine did not answer her. She was only looking at the potion, examining it with a smile on her lips. Holder then looked at the vendor—still with a forced sweet smile—and asked the same question; “to what is that potion for?”

But the woman avoided her gaze with a roll of her eyes. “Do not look at a potion’s stall if you have no idea what potions are about for.”

“Oh,” Holder said with a shock and embarrassment mixed in his expression. “I’m sorry.”

He then looked at Jiji. The slime was at his shoulder, watching everything that is happening. And, as if he felt the same feeling Holder felt, he looked depressed and embarrassed.

“Let’s go, Jiji,” Holder said. “We’re not welcome here.”

Jiji purred with sadness echoing from his throat.

He was pained for what had happened. That was just a small, random part of daily life—meeting people who doesn’t like you. But for Holder, he grew up feeling every love and support from everyone in Hem, especially of his mothers. He was fond of having and being cared by the people in Hem. He considers every Mother of Hem as his own Mama. That is why, when the woman snob and embarrassed him, he was deeply affected. She reminds so much of the people in Hem.

“Hey, Holder, where are you going?” Lalaine then called.

He is stupid. He was crying as he walk away of the stall. He is weak-hearted. It was just a little embarrassment for him. He doesn’t even know who the woman is. But he was deeply pained because of him. Why? Is it because he was not used to feel embarrassed and deliberately tell to him that he is not liked by someone? What a coward he is. He should know by that age that not everyone would be able to like everyone.

He ran.

“Hey, Holder!” Lalaine followed her.

“I am fine, Lalaine. I could find the Blacksmith shop on my own!” he shouted as he ran. He crashed his body to the crowd, looking for spaces which he could slip into, so that he could escape Lalaine.

Sooner, he realized that Lalaine was not following him anymore. What a hard-headed man he was. He was like more than a woman running tantrums to her boyfriend. He was just nothing, and he is not worth it to be chased by anyone.

Ah, he was starting to become depressed. This is not a drama, and his life shall never be a drama, but here he was, running, crying, feeling the pain of those words of the vendors, and those actions made by Lalaine.

What an unmanly man he was. But then again, every man is entitled to cry, no matter how shallow the pain is.

Jiji cried too. No, he bawled. An ugly bawl. His guttural voice along with his baby-like crying was a horrible combination that Holder wished he had not heard. It was way more embarrassing than what the woman vendor did to him. Because people confusedly looked at them while Jiji mindlessly crying in the middle of the street, unembarrassed.

“Hey, Jiji. What happened to you?” Holder asked, panicking. He brushed the last stroke of tears falling on his cheeks. He stopped crying because he was then again embarrassed of what Jiji did. He was lying on the street, crying like a baby. He refused being carried by Holder, because he was busy crying.

“H—Hey, Jiji.” Was Jiji, perhaps, crying because he too was crying? He always had this gut-feeling that Jiji can feel what his emotions were. And sometimes, what his emotions were, is what Jiji’s emotions too.

Jiji cried, because Holder was crying too.

From that, Holder smiled. “Hey, Jiji. I am not crying anymore,” he said.

When Jiji heard What Holder told, he suddenly stopped. He looked at him and scanned his face. Holder beamed a bright smile.

“I am fine now, Jiji. Thank you,” he said.

“Krrr!” Jiji purred. On his face, there is bright, happy expression that made Holder laughing.

“You’re seriously a nice guy, Jiji.”

Jiji jumped, and landed on his shoulder.

“I am okay now, Jiji. Don’t worry.”

He nodded to him, and purred, as if saying, ‘glad you’re okay, Buddy!’

Now, since Holder finally moved on from his depressed feeling which he felt a while ago, he decided again to find the house of the Blacksmith. He was already an hour late, and he was sure he would receive a punishment for that. But he was now more determined for the training the Blacksmith would give to him—whatever it was.

“Let’s go ask random people here if they knew where the Blacksmith was,” Holder told. Jiji nodded to him.

“No need, man.”

Behind him, a voice erupted. Holder jumped from it. Alerted, he immediately looked to the man who unexpectedly replied from what he said to Jiji.

He saw a familiar man. A man with a wide smile. He was topless, revealing his bulky muscles and well-toned abs. He only wore a tattered black pants that was smeared with dirt and coal and dusts. Gallonful-sweat was trickling all over his body. On his arms, he was holding a huge chunk of metal. No, a chunk of metal with form and shape. A weapon. He once saw this gun to a guard who is monitoring the work productivity of the farmers of Hem. He too, heard what it was called. It was at the tip of his tongue, but he cannot immediately remember what it was named.

‘Uhh, what was it?’ he asked himself. When he finally remembered what it was called, he froze. His jaw stressed as he clenched his teeth from utter fear.

“A gun,” he unconsciously said. He knew how deadly a gun could be. It can kill someone with just a simple click of its trigger. Then boom. The man facing the nozzle of that weapon would fall on the ground, dead, blood pooling, breathless.

He looked at the man. He knew who it was. He just met him yesterday.

“Hi, sweetie,” the man said. “I am your trainor-shizzor for the day.”

He placed the long-bodied gun on his shoulder as his left hand holds it for support. Behind him was a house made of the color of the night. Two chambers was attached at the roof, and from there, extremely black smoke was being emitted. He realized what the Black house was: Blacksmith’s house.

“Benny?” he asked to the man that was on his front.

“Blacksmith Benny Flick in the morning, Bennilda at night, at your service!” he said with a high-pitched tone of his voice, and a slightly distorted salute.