A/N: Hi.

According to my profile, my last update was… just under three years ago. Crap. Well then, here we are.

If any of you happens to know my other stories, you can thank Kelrisathefiredemoness for following one of my stories and prompting me to this untimely return.

If you're mad about one of those stories not updating, fear not! (Well, fear little.) I have something written for both. I'll post soon (probably).

As for this, I recently saw Coco and really loved it. I kind of wanted to do something with it. Well then again, here we are.

Disclaimer 1: I do not own any of the relevant intellectual and artistic property.

Disclaimer 2: I do not speak Spanish. I am not Hispanic, and neither Mexican nor Mexican-American. Just a random Western European American who likes Coco. Sorry if I mess anything up in that regard; I'm doing my best to be accurate and portray things respectfully.

They use "Día de los Muertos" and "Día de Muertos" both, depending on the person, I think, but I can't remember who says which, so I'll just be using "Día de los Muertos".

Often, when disambiguation is unnecessary, I'll abbreviate great-great-grandwhatever to just grandwhatever. They do something similar (e.g. "Mamá Imelda", not "Tatarabuela Imelda") and my own family experience says that when talking about great-grandparents for any length of time, we drop the great almost immediately, and we don't even use it to begin with when we add their name (e.g. always "Grandpa Sam", never "Great-Grandpa Sam"),

Finally, my spellcheck doesn't like me mixing Spanish and English. I'll probably try to figure out how to make it check against both, but fair warning.

§ - Prologue - §

Miguel sang for his family, his deep red and bright gold charro suit and cheerful cantor matching the festivity of the Rivera estate around him. This was his first Día de los Muertos since his fateful reversal of the traditional purpose of the Holiday.

A year ago, he could not have even hoped to see his family around him, loving each other and celebrating each other and singing with each other. And not just to see it, but to participate in it. A year ago, his family draconically opposed even the mention of music in any way other than to curse its existence and banish it from the family, decrying its alluring snare. A year ago, he thought that a family insistent on depriving him of his passion could not even be worth loving and celebrating.

In one single night, these forces bent on the destruction of the Rivera family relented and even reversed, repairing the rift that formed nearly a century prior.

And so Miguel played and sang his heart out, proclaiming his family above all else, as his family joined in. He sang loudly and confidently as he had learned to do from his great-great-grandparents.

And if it seemed for a moment that, every so often, Miguel's face intensified in a deep concentration, no one thought oddly of it. After all, he was playing and singing the first song of his own composition, not to mention moving and dancing at the same time. It would seem only natural that he might from time to time need to focus on his music.

No one save Héctor. Héctor knew Miguel for all of one day, but in that day, he came to know his great-great-grandson very well. Sure, he had spoken very little of his biographical information. Héctor had no idea how Miguel did in school, or what his favorite color was (he would put money on red, though). But Héctor knew Miguel intimately, his passion for music, his desire for belonging and a family who accepted him unconditionally. And Héctor knew that Miguel could play and sing and even dance all the while displaying no more effort than one taking a walk down the street. So Héctor was already keeping a curious eye on the boy when he politely excused himself from the festivities, vaguely alluding to some bodily function or another.

Discreetly breaking away himself, Héctor followed his grandson not to a bathroom, bedroom, kitchen, or anywhere else that might validate his excuse, but instead to the old attic wherein he used to practice guitar and laud the grandeur of Ernesto de la Cruz.

Removing his sombrero to fit through the still concealed opening, Miguel stepped inside and lit a few candles for light, revealing a face a bit paler than it ought to be. Héctor looked on as Miguel took a few deep breaths, regaining his color to some extent.

Héctor panned the room from his position behind Miguel. Only today did he learn what used to be here. Nobody in the family had known of Miguel's exploits until last Día de los Muertos, and the deceased Riveras never made it to their family that day to learn what had transpired. So it was today that Héctor heard the story of last year's affairs, notably only from the perspective of the living, a regaling that was obviously becoming a new tradition for the clan. He was pleasantly unsurprised to see every remnant of de la Cruz expunged from room, save only that which was inexplicably tied to both Ernesto and Héctor himself, such as lyrics to the stolen songs.

Héctor looked back at the thirteen-year-old in time to see him retracting his extended hands, palms toward his face.

What is he doing? Héctor though to himself.

Apparently reassured, Miguel leaned forward and blew out the candles he lit, leaving them in a thick darkness. Miguel, apparently, needed no light to navigate the small and familiar space, and Héctor was left standing to the side of the entrance, uncertain as to what he had just observed and wondering why exactly that pose seemed familiar.

Just as Miguel was passing by him to leave, it struck him.

Without thinking, Héctor called out to his great-grandson, "Miguel!?"

The red-clad boy froze briefly before his silhouette turned against the light, face sporadically illuminated by the holiday's fireworks to show him peering in Héctor's direction.

In a dreadful confirmation of his fears, Miguel spoke tentatively into the darkness, "Papá Héctor?"

A/N: This story won't be as — ambitious, perhaps? — as my other stories. It's not a oneshot (obviously), but the plans for the other stories are massive.

Edit: I accidentally uploaded the pre-proofread version first. Sorry to the few of you who read that. Even so, feel free to let me know any mistakes I still have left in the text.