To Be An Almeida
Date: 2021 (Maria is 9 years old)
Most of her life Maria spent flitting about this way and that through theme parks, water slides, and casino floors. Her family was exuberantly wealthy, having made a ton of money in cosmetics and pharmaceuticals, and they not only lived in but owned several of the top penthouse suites in the most bedazzled casinos/resorts in all of Macau. Her smile and cute dresses were always on the lips on patrons and customers alike. She was carefree and could always find friends aplenty anywhere she went. Through the beautifully cobbled streets of the old Portuguese settlement or on the sleek, expensive, and impossibly clean, casino strips of the island, she always shined brilliantly and with energy to match! She was always prim and proper with the manners to rival even the most seasoned delegate but reveled in those secret moments to slip away and just be herself.
Her mother, Beihe, insisted that she learn an instrument and it HAD to be piano or violin. She would refuse and, always the daddy’s girl, she was able to convince her mother that the instrument she really wanted to play was BASS! Bass lessons she got. A visiting musician? A seasoned professor? The best players in the city? Her mother decided, if she wasn’t going to be a proper lady, then her daughter would at least be trained by the best.
This pristine, perfect, carefree life came to a screeching halt the summer after her 9th birthday. This is where our story starts.
A butler knocks at the door. The rapt echoes through the expansive chambers of the now elderly Portuguese man, Alberto Almeida, who is buried under a mountain of paperwork. “Enter!” He commanded in Portuguese. Peering over stacks of paper, parchment, and binders, the elder Almeida saw his servant cross the threshold and stand in front of his extravagantly ornate mahogany desk.
“Your son is here to see you, sir,” the butler spoke in cantonese answering the silent question from Alberto’s raised eyebrows. This drew a long drawn out sigh from his employer who, with a wave of his hand, bade the butler to retire and retrieve his son.
“Father,” came the icy address in Portuguese moments later, a formal distant address that put him at odds with the elder tycoon. “You asked for me.” A statement more than a question. The man made no move to enter the office, having learned never to come in unless specifically invited to do so.
“Come, sit, Fernie,” the old man said grunting to hoist himself out of his most comfortable desk chair. Alberto, dressed in business suit that oozed wealth, from the shiny threads of the jacket to the near blinding pearl white of the dress shirt, slowly shuffled to the adjoining couch and chairs with a tea table in-between in a classic Chinese setting. “Have tea.”
Fernando’s eyes narrowed. His father did not invite anyone for tea unless he meant business. He was by far the least favorite of his brothers always the middle child. He always got the worst assignments, had to deal with their most problematic employees, and had to solve the hardest claims cases. Of course, it made him incredibly insightful and invaluable to the conglomerate they controlled, but it came with none of the accolades that he thought he deserved.
“I said, ‘have tea.’ I will not ask again,” Alberto commanded in cantonese, a dialect he never used except with his business associates further solidifying this was not a family reunion.
His son, ever obedient, did not in fact need to be told a second time, but his father did so love lording control over this dynamic. Himself dressed in a near matching suit, crossed the distance and sat in a chair across the table from his father. He said not a word should he also be accused of speaking out of turn and took the offered tea. Despite his father being a white man, he was well practiced in the Chinese art of guanxi and face.
“I have a new assignment for you,” Alberto said at length, watching his son’s icy stares but emotionless posture with his own. In Macanese he continued, trying to soften news he knew would not be favorable, “You are needed in Japan. You will leave at the end of the month.”
Fernando froze, his expression blank, withdrawing into himself, a technique he learned from decades of being corrected. Fury. His protest screamed so loud he could not disobey. “What of Maria?” He asked, slowly, very delicately, replying in Portuguese, his father’s native and preferred tongue.
If Alberto sighed, it was imperceptible to the younger Almeida. If there was any hint of pause or consideration, it was equally lost. In fact, it seemed that his father prepared for the protest as he responded almost before Fernando could finish, “She will join you in Japan.”
“But…” Fernando spoke before he could even constrain himself. His father’s threatening eyes made him think better of continuing even at this age he knew never to cross his elder. He clinched his fist, grabbing the cloth of his slacks that costs more than most people’s mortgage. “She belongs with the family.” He said, at length, looking only at the corner of the table that he now found the most fascinating part of his father’s elaborate office.
“She has no magic. She has no place here.” Alberto said simply, also not looking at his son, but almost through him to the beautiful sights of Macau from the floor-to-ceiling window that ran the length of his office. “We gave her a chance but we can’t let your curse ruin our family name,” Alberto continued, his face stoic as if this was just a matter of business.
“Papa,” Fernando pleaded now on his feet his fists now clinched at his side, an overwhelming feeling of helplessness washing over him. “She still has time!” He growled through gritted teeth.
Alberto rose to match his son’s posture but for the cold calculating expression that seemed to almost be permanently plastered on his face. “She has had enough time. If she had an ounce of magic, I would keep her in a heartbeat. She is my only girl! I cannot and will not have her infecting her cousins!”
At the very hint of the pain it caused his father, Fernando cowered and regretted his rebellion. It hurt more that this sentiment is coming from his brothers and their families. How much this decision was his father’s and how much it was his brother’s he would never be able to tell. He thought everyone loved Maria, apparently he didn’t know his family at all.
Straightening up his now wrinkled leggings, Fernando gave his father his best business expression, “Very well. Consider it done. I hope you will be happy with the result.” Before his father could respond, Fernando spun on his heels and strut out the door as if it was just business as usual.
“Shiying…my little Maria…” Alberto sighed as the door closed behind his son. “Your yeye is sorry.”
“I DON’T WANT TO GO TO JAPAN!” Maria screamed in her room, throwing ever stuffed animal she could find within range at her father, and there was a lot! “HOW COULD YOU! I HAVE FRIENDS HERE! I HAVE FAMILY!” She continued to fume. When she ran out of stuff animals she grabbed her collectible figurines. Fernando took it all with the determination that only a parent could muster. The decision was made and nothing she did would be able to change it. He wanted nothing more than to take Maria to Alberto and make him tell her to her face but this wasn’t how business was done in this family.
“You will like it in Japan. It’s very pretty.” Fernando offered, cold and distant, as if it was a matter of fact and the discussion was done. “Say your goodbyes while you can. We leave at the end of the week.” It was all he could muster against the tears, fear, sorrow, and rage her daughter was feeling, the very same emotions he had in his father’s office but couldn’t show it.
He closed the door to the smashing of one of her figures against the door. No tears. No fear. No regret. These were the three truths of Leung de Almeida. In time, his daughter would learn to accept them as well. Just not today. “I HATE YOU!” Was the last thing Fernando heard her scream at him before he walked away down the hall and locked himself in his office, just like his father.
To say Maria hated Japan was an understatement. A country that made no sense to her. With all the honorifics and school uniforms you’d think the place would have better manners, yet behind the appearance of civility was the lousiest and most irritating behavior. A people acting one way but meaning another. Don’t get her started on the 3 different writing systems! She was beginning to understand the frustration with Japan her home country had with every passing day. If it weren’t for her bass and, ironically, the manga, she would have gone crazy. She was given so much freedom in Macau but in Kyoto, she was either kept in their penthouse suite or made to only go out with a bodyguard or her parents. Every day was Japanese lessons, cultural lessons, and minimum freedom trying to force her to accept a culture she didn’t even want to be in.
School was not much better the following semester. The children made fun of her accent and if she even caught most of their insults that day it was considered a good language day. Every day she came back exhausted and angrier than the last. She barely spoke to her parents, blaming them from tearing her away from her family, friends, and more importantly her precious yeye, Alberto.
“Why can’t we go back to Macau?” Maria said at dinner, for the 100th time since their arrival. “I don’t want to be here. You don’t want to be here. Just tell yeye you want to go home or at least send me back.”
“Mei Mei, it’s not that simple,” Beihe said quietly, putting a hand on her daughter’s, having anticipated the move far before her husband who was too smitten by his own father to see the writing not the wall. There was no room in the Almeida family for people with no magic. She already knew this truth even if Fernando was in denial. These days were always coming. “Your father didn’t have a choice.” She said, ignoring the daggers that her husband was staring at her, but she knew when she said enough.
“Get used to it here. We are not going back. The quicker you accept it the easier it will be for you,” Fernando said after a prolonged icy silence.
Most of her life Maria spent flitting about this way and that through theme parks, water slides, and casino floors. Her family was exuberantly wealthy, having made a ton of money in cosmetics and pharmaceuticals, and they not only lived in but owned several of the top penthouse suites in the most bedazzled casinos/resorts in all of Macau. Her smile and cute dresses were always on the lips on patrons and customers alike. She was carefree and could always find friends aplenty anywhere she went. Through the beautifully cobbled streets of the old Portuguese settlement or on the sleek, expensive, and impossibly clean, casino strips of the island, she always shined brilliantly and with energy to match! She was always prim and proper with the manners to rival even the most seasoned delegate but reveled in those secret moments to slip away and just be herself.
Her mother, Beihe, insisted that she learn an instrument and it HAD to be piano or violin. She would refuse and, always the daddy’s girl, she was able to convince her mother that the instrument she really wanted to play was BASS! Bass lessons she got. A visiting musician? A seasoned professor? The best players in the city? Her mother decided, if she wasn’t going to be a proper lady, then her daughter would at least be trained by the best.
This pristine, perfect, carefree life came to a screeching halt the summer after her 9th birthday. This is where our story starts.
——————————————
A butler knocks at the door. The rapt echoes through the expansive chambers of the now elderly Portuguese man, Alberto Almeida, who is buried under a mountain of paperwork. “Enter!” He commanded in Portuguese. Peering over stacks of paper, parchment, and binders, the elder Almeida saw his servant cross the threshold and stand in front of his extravagantly ornate mahogany desk.
“Your son is here to see you, sir,” the butler spoke in cantonese answering the silent question from Alberto’s raised eyebrows. This drew a long drawn out sigh from his employer who, with a wave of his hand, bade the butler to retire and retrieve his son.
“Father,” came the icy address in Portuguese moments later, a formal distant address that put him at odds with the elder tycoon. “You asked for me.” A statement more than a question. The man made no move to enter the office, having learned never to come in unless specifically invited to do so.
“Come, sit, Fernie,” the old man said grunting to hoist himself out of his most comfortable desk chair. Alberto, dressed in business suit that oozed wealth, from the shiny threads of the jacket to the near blinding pearl white of the dress shirt, slowly shuffled to the adjoining couch and chairs with a tea table in-between in a classic Chinese setting. “Have tea.”
Fernando’s eyes narrowed. His father did not invite anyone for tea unless he meant business. He was by far the least favorite of his brothers always the middle child. He always got the worst assignments, had to deal with their most problematic employees, and had to solve the hardest claims cases. Of course, it made him incredibly insightful and invaluable to the conglomerate they controlled, but it came with none of the accolades that he thought he deserved.
“I said, ‘have tea.’ I will not ask again,” Alberto commanded in cantonese, a dialect he never used except with his business associates further solidifying this was not a family reunion.
His son, ever obedient, did not in fact need to be told a second time, but his father did so love lording control over this dynamic. Himself dressed in a near matching suit, crossed the distance and sat in a chair across the table from his father. He said not a word should he also be accused of speaking out of turn and took the offered tea. Despite his father being a white man, he was well practiced in the Chinese art of guanxi and face.
“I have a new assignment for you,” Alberto said at length, watching his son’s icy stares but emotionless posture with his own. In Macanese he continued, trying to soften news he knew would not be favorable, “You are needed in Japan. You will leave at the end of the month.”
Fernando froze, his expression blank, withdrawing into himself, a technique he learned from decades of being corrected. Fury. His protest screamed so loud he could not disobey. “What of Maria?” He asked, slowly, very delicately, replying in Portuguese, his father’s native and preferred tongue.
If Alberto sighed, it was imperceptible to the younger Almeida. If there was any hint of pause or consideration, it was equally lost. In fact, it seemed that his father prepared for the protest as he responded almost before Fernando could finish, “She will join you in Japan.”
“But…” Fernando spoke before he could even constrain himself. His father’s threatening eyes made him think better of continuing even at this age he knew never to cross his elder. He clinched his fist, grabbing the cloth of his slacks that costs more than most people’s mortgage. “She belongs with the family.” He said, at length, looking only at the corner of the table that he now found the most fascinating part of his father’s elaborate office.
“She has no magic. She has no place here.” Alberto said simply, also not looking at his son, but almost through him to the beautiful sights of Macau from the floor-to-ceiling window that ran the length of his office. “We gave her a chance but we can’t let your curse ruin our family name,” Alberto continued, his face stoic as if this was just a matter of business.
“Papa,” Fernando pleaded now on his feet his fists now clinched at his side, an overwhelming feeling of helplessness washing over him. “She still has time!” He growled through gritted teeth.
Alberto rose to match his son’s posture but for the cold calculating expression that seemed to almost be permanently plastered on his face. “She has had enough time. If she had an ounce of magic, I would keep her in a heartbeat. She is my only girl! I cannot and will not have her infecting her cousins!”
At the very hint of the pain it caused his father, Fernando cowered and regretted his rebellion. It hurt more that this sentiment is coming from his brothers and their families. How much this decision was his father’s and how much it was his brother’s he would never be able to tell. He thought everyone loved Maria, apparently he didn’t know his family at all.
Straightening up his now wrinkled leggings, Fernando gave his father his best business expression, “Very well. Consider it done. I hope you will be happy with the result.” Before his father could respond, Fernando spun on his heels and strut out the door as if it was just business as usual.
“Shiying…my little Maria…” Alberto sighed as the door closed behind his son. “Your yeye is sorry.”
——————————————
“I DON’T WANT TO GO TO JAPAN!” Maria screamed in her room, throwing ever stuffed animal she could find within range at her father, and there was a lot! “HOW COULD YOU! I HAVE FRIENDS HERE! I HAVE FAMILY!” She continued to fume. When she ran out of stuff animals she grabbed her collectible figurines. Fernando took it all with the determination that only a parent could muster. The decision was made and nothing she did would be able to change it. He wanted nothing more than to take Maria to Alberto and make him tell her to her face but this wasn’t how business was done in this family.
“You will like it in Japan. It’s very pretty.” Fernando offered, cold and distant, as if it was a matter of fact and the discussion was done. “Say your goodbyes while you can. We leave at the end of the week.” It was all he could muster against the tears, fear, sorrow, and rage her daughter was feeling, the very same emotions he had in his father’s office but couldn’t show it.
He closed the door to the smashing of one of her figures against the door. No tears. No fear. No regret. These were the three truths of Leung de Almeida. In time, his daughter would learn to accept them as well. Just not today. “I HATE YOU!” Was the last thing Fernando heard her scream at him before he walked away down the hall and locked himself in his office, just like his father.
——————————————
To say Maria hated Japan was an understatement. A country that made no sense to her. With all the honorifics and school uniforms you’d think the place would have better manners, yet behind the appearance of civility was the lousiest and most irritating behavior. A people acting one way but meaning another. Don’t get her started on the 3 different writing systems! She was beginning to understand the frustration with Japan her home country had with every passing day. If it weren’t for her bass and, ironically, the manga, she would have gone crazy. She was given so much freedom in Macau but in Kyoto, she was either kept in their penthouse suite or made to only go out with a bodyguard or her parents. Every day was Japanese lessons, cultural lessons, and minimum freedom trying to force her to accept a culture she didn’t even want to be in.
School was not much better the following semester. The children made fun of her accent and if she even caught most of their insults that day it was considered a good language day. Every day she came back exhausted and angrier than the last. She barely spoke to her parents, blaming them from tearing her away from her family, friends, and more importantly her precious yeye, Alberto.
“Why can’t we go back to Macau?” Maria said at dinner, for the 100th time since their arrival. “I don’t want to be here. You don’t want to be here. Just tell yeye you want to go home or at least send me back.”
“Mei Mei, it’s not that simple,” Beihe said quietly, putting a hand on her daughter’s, having anticipated the move far before her husband who was too smitten by his own father to see the writing not the wall. There was no room in the Almeida family for people with no magic. She already knew this truth even if Fernando was in denial. These days were always coming. “Your father didn’t have a choice.” She said, ignoring the daggers that her husband was staring at her, but she knew when she said enough.
“Get used to it here. We are not going back. The quicker you accept it the easier it will be for you,” Fernando said after a prolonged icy silence.
Maria Leung de Almeida is the iNPC of Dennis Tumberton
To Be An Almeida
Loving Memories
Date: 2022 (Maria is 10 years old)
Magic is real! I wish I could tell you how or why or what exactly happened, but it’s real! Like really really for real life real! I thought I could solve all my problems. I thought it would be enough to send me home. Surely, my father would agree, he’d have no choice! However, it just seemed to make him…sad…mad…honestly, I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t even tell you what it was I felt at the time. Scared, excited, afraid…powerful? It’s all a blur, every single moment of that afternoon.
The anger. Now that part I do remember. The fury at those who mocked me, as if being Chinese was some how inferior, despite their lack of any kind of etiquette at all. They looked down on me? Well, if we were back home, suffice it to say I would never have allowed anyone to talk to me like that. I, after all, was the princess of my family. I was called in one pageant the jewel of Macau. No one talks down to a princess.
My former caretaker Himiko, that bitter old croon, got what was coming to her if you ask me. After the incident, she was beside herself. She called me a witch. She called me a curse, among other things. The moment my magic came, I still don’t have much of a recollection but whatever I did to that old lady, surely wasn’t bad enough if she still had the nerve to scold me. The things that lazy good-for-nothing made me do and how she laughed at my inability to speak her stupid stupid language. If you haven’t guessed it yet, even with new found magical abilities, I still hate it here. I hate Japan. I hate it so much.
After the initial surprise, my father gathered me in his study, hushed away from the staff that busied themselves with various chores. My mother Beihe, was summoned shortly after and the door was closed with strict orders to our butler, the only one was allowed to know our family secret, to not let anyone eavesdrop.
“Mama! I have magic,” I remember cooing at her hoping at least she would be happy for this occasion. What I found in those beautiful kind eyes was not elation but rather…what’s it called…pity? Why would she pity me? What did they know that I didn’t. Before I could say another word, my father wrapped me in his arms, his shoulders rising and falling. Was he…crying? What happened to ‘No tears. No fears. No regrets. That’s the three truths of a Leung de Almeida,’ I thought with bitter consternation before he let me go.
Again, where was the accolades, where was the applause. Instead of any kind of celebration I saw…fear. Why were they all so sad! I had just found out I could do amazing things! There should be a party in fact in my honor, my name in lights. However, this achievement seemed something both pitiful and something to be feared. I didn’t understand. I wanted to understand.
“What’s going on, papa?” I recall asking him, I can still feel the tremble in my voice. I was so confused. “What’s happening?”
The look my father gave me I will never forget, not ever. It was pride mixed with…I still can’t quite place that emotion. It was explained to me later, much later, that he was concerned I was a squib and he was also concerned my family would take me away from them. That, that is a story for a different time. At that moment, the only thing I could think of is…they knew. It just hit me in that moment that neither of them were surprised at all. I can still feel the sting of the tears and the heartbreak as I stepped away from my father. “You knew…” I breathed, the indignation dripped off every syllable.
“Mei Mei…” Mei Mei. Those words echo in my mind even now. They used to be so sweet to me. So endearing. But now when anyone calls me that I can only feel as though they are hiding things from me. Hiding a whole world from me. I hate that name. I remember my heart breaking further hearing my mother call me that in her sweet sing-song voice that evening. “Let us explain.”
I want to run. I need to run. Anywhere but here. The door is locked. I can’t escape. I do the only thing I could do, the one thing I was told not to do. I cried. Sobbed really. Collapsing on my knees my parents tried to scoop me up but I pushed them away, I pushed them as far away as I could. I don’t have parents anymore, the thought still weighs sour in my mind. No matter what I do, no matter what I did, it never seemed like my life was my own.
All those happy moments in Macau, were they a lie too? Was I ever really happy? As it turns out, I don’t think I ever was at that point, but I wouldn’t know that for quite some time. Pity the little Maria, I know I do. I pity her with the same look that was in my mother’s eyes that evening: trapped by her family, destined to do as they designed without any will or freedom.
My father, of course, being pushed must have brought him to his senses as he stood up. Straightened himself and scribbled something on a piece of paper. His face was a stone cold as it had ever been before when we fought. A look I still to this day don’t understand. As broken as my understanding of my past is, I still want to believe there was a time when we were home that he smiled. That father…in that moment…never existed. He crossed the room to the locked door, opened it, and handed something to the butler. They whispered in hushed tones, I never knew what they actually said but no doubt it was to send the piece of paper back to Macau.
Several days later, after tempers had calmed, a tutor came and I was pulled out of private school. I wish I could say that the excitement of having to never go back to that wretched school again lasted longer than it took to meet my tutor. Himiko. The very witch I thought I sent away was back. What I didn’t realize was that she thought I was something called a squib and that she was trying to beat the magic out of me.
I never, to this day, have known a Japanese woman who thought so much like a Chinese person in my life. I can’t say she was any easier on me, but her verbal abuse and abrasiveness subsided as she taught me both Japanese and the basics I needed to know about the wizarding world, and the school I was to attend, not in Macau like I had secretly hoped but a Japanese wizarding school called Mahoutokoro. As much as I hated Himiko for how she treated me my first year in Japan. In many ways, she became more of a mother to me than even my own.I only wish I could tell her now how much I love her.
In Loving Memory of Himiko Sakamura - caretaker, mentor, friend, mother-figure, one hell of a witch
Maria Leung de Almeida is the iNPC of Dennis Tumberton
To Be An Almeida
Home Sweet Home: Part 1
Date: Summer 2025 (Maria is 13 years old)
A letter? Maria didn’t get much mail from anyone, even her own family. Since leaving Macau she never felt like she had a clue what the next day was going to look like. One minute she was twirling around ballrooms and galas as the little starlet she used to be, then she was forced to move from the only home she ever knew, next she found out she was a witch and, even though she thought it was a turn of a new page, consistently had her feeling like she was free falling. Mahoutokoro was nice, and the students were…weird, but it never felt like she belonged.
Holding the folded piece of parchment in her hand, it did hurt her that her parents never seemed to care what she was up to. Didn’t they care she was being a good girl? She kept all her manners, and even kept a straight face when continually encountering all sorts of yucky boys. Her grades were mid, but again, new to the whole magic is real thing, but surely they’d at least write once…
Perhaps this was from them, she thought as she unfolded the paper. A cursory glance dropped her heart, it wasn’t from her parents; however, it soared in the next moment, her grandfather, her Ye Ye, was writing to her! How did he know where to find her! She read on. She hadn’t heard from him in almost 2 years, she thought maybe he had forgotten her over what her father did.
The news was even more exciting! He invited her to stay the summer with them! She was going back to Macau! She almost fainted from the realization that her dream, her only hearts desire, was coming true! She just needed to get through this last week of classes and she would finally be free, she would finally be where she belongs, she would finally be…loved.
—————————————————
Maria stood in between the archway of the colonial welcome that faced the customs building, her heart filled with nostalgia. It was busy as always so her entrance didn’t catch anyone’s attention. She heard all kinds of languages she hadn’t heard spoken in so long.
“Hello!” She greeted a random white person eagerly, who, upon seeing a small Chinese girl, backed away slowly thinking she was a beggar perhaps. “Nihao!” She greeted a Chinese couple, they responded politely but seemed to quickly want to make their way out of the busy area. “Olá!” She greeted another in portuguese whether they understood her or not. The one thing she didn’t hear, and indeed it was a beautiful thing, was Japanese.
It had been so long since she spoke any other tongue she was beginning to think she wasn’t good at talking, period. She took a deep breath of the familiar smell of street food and began her walk down the narrow paved streets of various different colors with mosaic titles stretching around ever bend. She really should be off to her Grandfather’s but what would it hurt if she took a little tour around the area.
The city was rich as ever, with its mix of colonial architecture, Chinese minimalism, and modern urbanization. She made her way to the Senado Square, the cultural heart of Macau. It was hot and nothing helped stave off exhaustion quite like ice cream! As she entered the parlor the bell chimed letting the workers know they had a customer. She ordered a traditional vanilla cone and sat at a table.
“Look who it is!” Came a rather cynical voice. She looked up and beamed at her cousin, Alberto, the eldest son of the eldest son of her grandfather, of course taking the family name. He did not share her excitement instead looked down on her, which she didn’t think was quite fair as she was sitting down. “The squib comes home,” he growled lowly almost as if he were threatening her.
Maria frowned and scrunched her nose. She remembered playing with Alberto through this very square not even 5 years ago. What was with this attitude? Had she really been gone so long. “Nice to see you too,” she said coolly, utterly confused by the hostility. Not even the older students at Mahoutokoro made her feel this out of place. Surely, she accidentally upset him.
“Alberot-s…” Maria stopped herself. She wasn’t in Japan anymore. “Gege. I don’t know what you mean. Maybe I didn’t hear you…”
Alberto scoffed, if they weren’t in the ice cream shop, perhaps he might have spit on her. Confusion turned to fear as he seemed to tower over her. A concerned look on her face made him back off slightly. “Whatever. Enjoy your ice cream,” he muttered as he left the store. He didn’t even buy any ice cream. As she watched him disappear in the fashionably dressed throng, Maria had an uneasy feeling. Maybe she should get back as soon as possible!
—————————————————
The elevator chimed and the door spread open to something called the 3 2/5 floor, this was obviously not a normal elevator. Before her eyes was a sprawling private banquet hall above the casino floors. Maria was dressed in a lavender ball gown, a color she grew to love from her schooldays in Mahoutokoro. Her hair was done up in a beautifully braided bun and her make up done just right.
When she walked into the room, she felt like she was floating on air. Everyone was on their feet and clapping. This was everything she wanted. Her hands placed in front of her she made her way past family she didn’t even know she had, seemingly magically coming out of nowhere. She made her way to the center of the room where there was a raised platform and her grandfather, as radiant and spectacularly dressed as she remembered. He offered her a hand to help her onto the platform, spun her around and with a grand gesture. “Please welcome back my beautiful granddaughter, Maria Constança Leung de Almeida!”
With all the applause, Maria did the only thing she could think of which was to bow deeply in gratitude from the waist. A sharp jab on her shoulder reminded her, yet again, she was not in Japan anymore. As she quickly straightened, amidst all the applause she suddenly felt…out of place. She dreamt of this moment and she felt so alien. She was ushered to her seat at to sit with her grandfather and uncles and aunts, taking the much coveted spot as guest of honor of an Almeida banquet.
The food was delicious and finally the tea was amazing, just the kind she loved. She was busy trying to answer all of her family’s questions about the school, the subjects she learned, the spells she was taught. She felt like this was an exam. When she answered correctly she got a look of approval. When she answered either incorrectly or with less confidence, the disappointment was palpable. “Honestly, what do the Japanese teach?” Was an often heard exclamation as the questions grew harder and harder and she started missing more throughout the conversation.
Finally, everyone seemed to have enough after having their fill of both food and humiliating her. She looked so beautiful but felt so ugly. She thought her family loved her. Why would they put on such a show just to make her feel so horrible. Still, she would not shame her parents, she kept her composure like the brave girl she was and didn’t let them know how much she hurt. What was most surprising is that…despite how much she said she hated Japan, she felt angry every time they echoed her own words back at her. Who was she anymore?
The party was winding down and guests and family alike came to shake her hand and congratulate her for being a witch. Were were the accolades when she yearned for them the most!?
“Yeye, why does everyone hate me?” She asked finally, quietly to her grandfather when she was alone with him as everyone else filed out of the hall.
“No one hates you. They just want to be sure you are really a witch,” he said softly, his eyes were always so soft when he looked at her but the answer was so matter of fact as if she were lying.
“I have my wand. Why not just ask me to cast a spell?” She asked defiantly in Portuguese, drawing her wand from her bag.
“Put that away, you silly girl. There will be time to test your mettle soon enough. You must be very tired. Why don’t you use the portkey to our resort. You will find a room just for you has been prepared,” he said gently yet firmly, putting a reassuring hand on hers as he pushed the wand down. She could only agree and walk away. She suddenly had a very bad feeling about this. What were they going to do to her? She felt like she was back in her father’s office but even though there was no locked door, there was still no escape. Taking the goblet she was directed, she was gone.
“Good luck, my little Constança. You are going to need it,” her grandfather said looking out the window and down on the busy casino down below.
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“GET UP!” A scream came at her door the next morning. The groggy Maria shuffled out of bed and crossed the overly spacious bedroom full of all her favorite stuffed animals, books, posters, and more. “SQUIB GET UP!”
“Do you know what time it is?” She moaned as she opened the door, rubbing her eyes. Two boys and a girl around here stood there, their arms crossed. One of the boys, tall, well built, dark hair and dressed in dueling attire as if it were a game day, was Alberto - she had met him earlier. The other boy, slender, smaller than Alberto, and quite a bit uglier, his name was Peter - she never really liked him but he always went wherever Alberto went.
The girl, older than Maria by several years she didn’t recognize. She was white blond, and was almost as pretty as her, she thought if not for those unsightly freckles. “The sun isn’t even up. What do you want?”
The girl and Peter grabbed her by either arm and tried to drag her out of her room. “What? Let go of me?” She growled, her tired visage replaced with fire. She stomped down hard on Peter’s foot and pushed the girl away from her. She tried to close the door only for Alberto to step in the way. Maria scrambled to her night stand and drew her wand at the trio. “What do you want?”
However, before she could cast any spell, Alberto was faster, with a sharp, “Silencio!” The older boy had silenced her casting, shocked the other two grabbed her arms and this time she went with them instead of fighting, knowing she was now cornered.
The Almeida secret resort was more a compound, with 4 sleek buildings and a giant courtyard in-between. It was nestled on the backside of the island away from muggle attention. You could clearly see the ocean even at this night when you looked over the bannister of the cliffside of the courtyard.
Maria found her voice again as her three abductors threw her to the ground. For some reason, they still let her have her wand. Rising to her feet, her night gown whipping at her ankles in the wind, she stood defiantly, wand clinched white knuckled in her hand. “What is this about?”
“Flipendo!” Peter cried, but Maria was ready - “Finite incantatem!” She countered but didn’t slow down, she was not having this! “petricificus totalus!” Peter went stiff as a board and fell to the ground. One down, two to go.
“So the squib can cast,” Alberto chided.
“I don’t think that word means what you think it means,” Maria shot back, wand raised menacingly pointed at her cousins face. It was blondie’s turn to smirk. Oh, Maria was really going to enjoy wiping the floor with her.
“Incendio,” the girl said, stepping forward. That was something that Maria could take, she had done so plenty of times before. However, it wasn’t just one stream, but two! This girl had spell spread? Maria sidestepped out of the way of the stream of fire but her arm got caught in the blast from the second, dropping her wand and wincing in pain as her flesh seared with white hot pain.
“Obviously not that good are you,” the girls aid tauntingly. “Guess they don’t teach you well there do they?”
“Bitch, I’m ambidextrous,” Maria growled, stepping on the end of her wand to send it twirling in the air, catching it and with a flick, and a wince from her burned arm, casted, “Glacius!” Freezing her opponents casting arm.
“Enough, expelliarmus! Flipendo!” Came the voice from behind the blonde. Maria was disarmed a second time, this time her wand flung further than she could lounge for. That was the least of her problems as she was blasted against the railing of the very bannister overlook the sheer cliff. Maria cried in pain as she went to her knees.
Peter was up and however that skank was, joined Alberto again. “You will regret messing with us,” Alberto threatened as they stalked closer.
“Mess with you,” Maria coughed, should could spell the burns running the length of her arm. “What are you talking about? You dragged me out here.”
“Why don’t we play with her a little more,” the girl squealed, hooking an arm around Alberto. “Let her run. It will be more fun if we chase her.”
Now was her chance, Maria dashed to her feet, scooped up her wand and body checked Peter, trying to make her escape. “Lacarnum Inflamari” she cried flicking her wand at Alberto, lighting his dueling uniform on fire, causing just enough distraction to get to the other end of the courtyard to find…brooms!
Not thinking twice she jumped on the nearest one and away she went, as fast as the broom could carry him. However, she wasn’t out of the clear. She heard voices yelling after her and as she gained altitude she saw the others were catching up to her. Did they plan this? “You have to be kidding me!” She growled breathless against the biting wind. She wasn’t even dressed for this and her make up wasn’t done!
She caught just enough to know they began casting at her. Rolling, swerving, zigzagging, Maria was proving to be quite adept at dodging their flimsy spells. When they matched her altitude, Maria went into a nose dive, diving down the cliffside as close to the cliff as she dared. When the cliff met the ocean, she pulled up riding parallel to the ocean waves. “Incendio!” She cried as Peter got close enough for her to hit him with some measure of confidence. His broom ignited. “Flipendo!” She followed it and flung him and his flaming broom toward the shore line, landing buried in the sand.
However, in her adrenaline fueled casting, she didn’t pay attention Alberto, who, unlike Peter and that other girl, was much more confident than her. He rode along side her and smirked, “You aren’t going anywhere.” A body check, a fall, a splash. The last thing she remembered was hitting the water, the salt water torturing her still burnt arm.
—————————————————
Maria woke up in her bed. That was the craziest dream she ever had. She reached over to her dominant arm just to be sure and there was no burn. It had to have been a dream, she said. A knock on the door, “Mei Mei! Wake up! It’s breakfast time!” A sweet voice that reminded her of her mother. As she got out of bed, she froze, the blood in her veins turned icy. Her nightgown was torn, tattered, and singed. It wasn’t a dream. She was really drug out of her bed in the dead of night and made to duel three people at the same time. “Alberto,” she seethed when she gained some semblance of awareness.
She stalked over to the door and flung it open. An older chinese lady, one of her aunts. Aunt Xiaoqing if she recalled, looked shocked at Maria’s wild expression. “Good morning, dear. You look absolutely dreadful. I guess they don’t teach you how to dress in Japan do they? Get some real clothes on and join us for breakfast.” Her tone turned as icy has the blood in her veins. This was a nightmare!
Maria slammed the door shut, her back against the door and slid down to the floor. She wanted to go home. She wanted, and she couldn’t believe she was saying this, she wanted to go back to Japan! “Tone-san…Midorimori-san…Katsuro-kun…where are you…” she whispered, tears filling her eyes with remorse for all the times she said she hated Japan.
—————————————————
Maria did as she was told, ever the obedient child. She dressed in a fitted red t-shirt, shorts, and her hair tied back in a ponytail. She did her makeup, and put on her bravest face. Whatever happened last night was in the past. She was starting to understand her father more. In fact, the distant stare she had in the mirror was a spitting image of the one he gave her that night she begged him not to take them to Japan.
Maria made it down the hall, down the stairs, and into the dining room where Alberto, Peter, that girl, and several of her other cousins and aunts and uncles were waiting for her. Some hadn’t started and some, were already stuffing their faces. So much for all the accolades of the previous evening!
“Hello, Mei Mei!” Alberto said as if nothing ever had happened. “This is my girlfriend Jessica. She is from the States. She is studying here.” So that white girl had a name. Maria paused for a minute. She could accuse these two of abuse but in front of her relatives that would do nothing but probably make it worse for her.
“Very nice to meet you,” Maria said happily, as if nothing ever happened, taking her place at the breakfast table. The meal passed with idle chatter, again with some questions about her school, but this time more cultural and less like a test. Everyone was nice this morning and she wondered what hell they were going to try to put her through this time.
Maria needed to get out of that compound as fast as possible. She resisted several reckonings for her to join Alberto and Jessica as they went casino hopping - many of the casinos of Macau sported theme parks, shopping malls, and other wonderfully indulgent attractions, not just gambling. After the previous night, there was no way she would ever go willingly with that pair but she couldn’t just spit in their face in front of family. A polite “I am quite busy. I have plans with friends,” was enough to save face as she finished her breakfast quickly and nearly ran out of the room. A portkey labelled for the Fisherman’s wharf was just the place she needed to go! Picking it up, Maria was gone, away from that paradise of hell.
Mentioning: @Ginyami Midorimori, @Tone Bakugo, and @Katsuro Souto
Maria Leung de Almeida is the iNPC of Dennis Tumberton
To Be An Almeida
Home Sweet Home - Part 2
Ah, the Fisherman’s Wharf! Maria stepped out from around one of the colonnades of the replica coliseum. It was yet another one of her favorite spots in the city. Fashioned as a fusion between Roman and Portuguese stylings, it was one of THE places to go for shopping and fun. The cobblestones and mosaics were always so beautiful, especially to Maria who hadn’t been able to return in years. She walked the tourist filled streets and for one sweet moment, she forgot all about the night before.
“Shiying! SHIYING!” Maria had almost completely missed someone calling her. It would take a lot of getting used to getting addressed by her Chinese name now after having been Maria for years at Mahoutokoro and said with that silly yet now somehow endearing accent. Now she thought Japan was endearing - this was NOT the trip she wanted to have. Just let her shop and have fun!
Nevertheless, the 13 year old girl spun around, a kind smile on her face, her ponytail spinning and resting on her shoulder. Her fake charm turned into genuine surprise as she raced over to the boy who called for her. He was roughly the same age as her, soft features with long well kept. He dressed as fashionably as the rest of her family, but always a little be scrappy despite his affable features. “Filipe!” She gushed as she flung herself into the arms of her favorite cousin.
He spun her around once and placed her back down gently. He took her arm and looked it around his and continued walking as if she never left. “Long time no see, Mei Mei,” he said delightfully, though Maria now winced every time she heard anyone call her that. How she wished he’d just call her Maria-chan. She hated herself even more for thinking that.
“I thought I would never see you again,” Maria replied, walking in step, her gate now having a slight bounce. “Tea?” She asked, her smile brighter than it ever had been since she left Macau the first time, gesturing to one of the many tea shops dotting the avenue they were walking along. He nodded and she dragged him inside to a table. Sitting across from each other, she noticed Filipe studying her as she poured them a cup.
“What?” She asked, feeling as if maybe she messed up her makeup this morning. “Do I have something on my face? Why does everyone keep staring at me like that?”
“So you aren’t a squib?” He asked blinking, his question though innocent brought her back not even 10 hours to her failure to fight off her other cousins who basically kidnapped her and beat the every living crap out of her. She slammed down the tea pot and glared at him, forcing him to avert his eyes.
“Why does everyone just assume I am a squib?” She demanded louder than she should have in a muggle setting. She didn’t care. If there was anyone she could force answers out it was this cousin specifically. They had been so close right up to her leaving. He was the oldest son of the youngest of the three Almeida sons.
“Because…that’s what Ye ye. He said…” Filipe started to say, as if it was a matter of fact that everyone knew, until he saw Maria’s normally very calm eyes grow larger as if she was about to attack him. “You…didn’t know?”
Filipe might as well have dumped her back into the ocean. If there was anything left of her heart to break it was shattered to pieces. The sweet Maria looked into her cup of tea, it was getting cold. Cold. Like she felt now. She searched for words. This wasn’t right at all. Her grandfather loved her so much why would he send her away!? “No…Filipe. You are wrong.”
The older boy just looked at her with pity. Her mother looked at her the same way! Why did everyone know more than she did about her own life, it wasn’t fair. “I don’t think I am, Maria. It was a huge deal in the family, there was a meeting and everything. I was there.”
A meeting? Her father said nothing about Ye Ye forcing them to leave! “Papa said he needed to go to Japan for business…he said mama and I had to go with him. That he forbid me to stay. It’s his fault I left you…” she protested, tears now welling in her eyes but she refused to let them fall, willed them, if she could, to go back the way they came.
Filipe sighed and shook his head. Maria was helpless. She went back to drinking her tea silently. This was not the way she wanted to spend her time with him, she was supposed to be having fun and forgetting everything…forgetting…her family. She opened her mouth multiple times to protest further but no words came. “Ye Ye loves me,” she whimpered meekly.
The now quite uncomfortable boy held his breath and then slowly let out a sigh. He seemed to resigned himself to be the one to have this conversation, or…did he follow her? Was he sent to her? “There is a lot you don’t know, Maria. Did you never question why all of use slowly stopped hanging out with you?”
No, she hadn’t. She just thought maybe they just got busy with friends and school! Now looking back though, on this side of the magic world, it does seemed suspicious that as she grew up she seemed to be allowed to see less and less of her many cousins and family. “You mean…magic.” She whispered, her shoulders drooping impossibly lower, slowly putting the pieces together. Her ego completely shattered in the pieces of her heart.
“Your father is a squib who married a muggle,” his voice was no longer friendly, it wasn’t harsh either, it was as business-like as when her father talked to him about anything unpleasant he knew she wouldn’t want to here. “You were expected to be a squib too. None of the parents wanted us to be around you for fear your curse passed to us.”
“That’s not how that works!” Maria growled, her fists slamming on the table, now the tears she had been fighting back came pouring. Filipe put his hands up to try to defend himself, as if she actually slapped him. He looked around at the other customers who were now looking at them as if he were the reason she was crying.
“Maria, why don’t we go for a walk? Everyone is staring.”
“Let them, you fool. Or am I the fool?”
“We welcomed you back when we found you weren’t a squib! Everything is ok now!”
“How can you say that after what happened last night!?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why did Alberto and Peter come after me?”
“Did you expect them to be happy?”
“What do you MEAN, Filipe? I’m the one my family threw away!? How can they not be happy and I have to be!?”
At this point, they were on their feet, pointing and shouting at each other. Maria, unable to contain all the emotions flowing freely now, turned and ran away. She ran as fast as she could. She wanted to run out of Macau. She wanted…to go home…to Japan.
—————————————————
Filipe found her sitting on the docks of the wharf staring blankly out at the boats in the harbor. Why did he have to be the one to have this conversation with her? Maria was always the special one. In a family dominated by boys, she was the sole granddaughter to a rather stern and strict patriarch. She got everything she ever wanted and everyone was always at her beck and call. He enjoyed a great relationship with her, and she was always so fun and up for adventure, especially when they could sneak away from stuffy business affairs of their family. However, even he was not at all sad to see her go, having bought into the thinking that she was cursed and draining the energy of the family.
Perhaps it was guilt. There was no reason for them to pull away from her if they all had just waited. With the youngest though displaying no magic talent early like the rest of them, though, at the time it made sense that the family blamed Maria, at least to him. However, all the other cousins turned out to be wizards, but their magic coming out after her departure did nothing but solidify everyone’s suspicion of the Almeida princess.
Alberto and Peter had come to him to help with their idea to test Maria if she were really a witch or if their stubborn old miserly grandfather was just trying to save face. Many of the adults were very upset that he chose to gather them for a banquet to honor Maria, a girl they were all relieved they got rid of. How to explain this to her though? He certainly didn’t feel his way. He was actually quite relieved she was back and said as much to the other cousins who just told him to shut up and not warn her.
“Shiying…” he sighed as he joined her on the dock, their legs swinging off the side, as he also found the boats more interesting than the conversation he needed to have with her. “Your father was just doing what he was told.”
At this point, Maria didn’t have the strength to argue. She felt weak. She felt ugly. She felt exhausted. “Why did you follow me, Filipe. Did they send you to further torment and humiliate me?” She whispered, the once beautifully enchanting Maria was a shell, a husk of a girl who had so much promise. What more did he want to do to her?
Fliipe wet his lips and steeled himself, he no longer had the will to meet her eyes, “Yes.”
Maria leaned back on her arms, her gaze now on the clouds above. “Great. Now they can finally be happy.”
Filipe drummed his hands aimlessly against his legs as he looked everywhere but at his cousin. After a moment, he couldn’t stand the silence, “They know I’m your favorite so they sent me to talk to you. They just hope you can understand their situation.”
Maria gave him an exasperated laugh, dripping in sarcasm, a tool she rarely used but she had no more face apparently. Her family saw to it to shame her thoroughly. There wasn’t anything left to protect. “What is there to understand? I didn’t ask for any of this. They didn’t need to do anything.”
With that, Filipe felt his purpose coming to a close. He couldn’t answer these questions. There is only one person who had the answers she wanted answer, and she was quite possibly the only one who could make him answer. “You know who you need to see if you want to know the truth. I hope you enjoy your time here. I would love to go the water park with you if you feel up to it later!” He said putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder as he got up. Dusting himself off he motioned as if he was going to say something else, but decided better of it and disappeared somewhere behind her.
—————————————————
“Enter,” the raspy tired voice of the elder Almeida call at the knock from the door. Maria nearly kicked down the door with rage. The tired look in his eyes vanished replaced by the same fire in his granddaughters eyes. “You will behave yourself like a lady, Constança,” he growled threateningly, rising from his seat.
“Or what? Are you going to send me away again?” She spat crossing the threshold and storming over to her desk, her balled up fists glued to her sides. If this were any other day, any other time, she would throw herself in his arms and squeeze him as hard as she could. Alberto Almeida was her most favorite person in the whole wide world but now suddenly he was her greatest enemy.
“No,” he said calmly, opening a drawer. From the compartment he drew his wand. “But I will teach you some manners if you dare to talk to me this way again. You will show me respect and you will like it.” His words were a promise as he dug the tip of his wand into his desk with each syllable. His eyes and tone doing all but casting the spells.
Maria steeled herself for a fight. She would go down swinging. This was her one chance at answers and she would not cower. All those nights crying herself to sleep. The fights and arguments and tears she spent blaming her father for her pain. Her cousins’ cruel tests. Sending poor Filipe to do his bidding because he was too afraid to do it himself. She wasn’t going to be a pawn any longer.
“Why?” She said through pursed lips. No Tears. “Why would you do that to me?” No fear. “I thought you loved me.” No regrets. “You let me believe it was my father’s fault I was exiled. But it was you. Only you. This whole time. It’s you.” It took all her strength to keep from shouting at him. He didn’t deserve the energy it would take. Her voice was shaky but her nerves were ironclad.
“Yes,” Alberto said simply, holding her stare with his, his voice emotionless, steady, as if this were just delivering some news or business. “It was me. I made the decision to send you to Japan.” He waited a moment to see if she would back down, when she didn’t he sighed and said, “And I will do it again if you don’t stop looking at me like that.
“No need. I will go back by myself. I just wanted to see the truth for myself,” she seethed, searching for any give, any love that she used to see so warmly and so readily. It was gone. Whatever she thought her past was, it wasn’t this. When Alberto didn’t, or couldn’t, respond to her. She turned on her heels, said, “Goodbye, Alberto Almeida.” With that she disappeared from his office and out of his life. Her life was hers. She would be Maria Constança Leung de Almeida, and find out what it meant for her.
When he was sure his granddaughter was gone, he slouched in his chair, turning to look out once more at the beautiful sites of Macau. Alberto sighed heavy, and whispered, “Be free, my sweet Constança. Be free.”
Maria Leung de Almeida is the iNPC of Dennis Tumberton