Note: Coco is super duper cute. This drabble speculates on the first meeting of my two favorite characters. Mild spoiler warning, but I've kept things quite vague.


What Color is the Sky?


Santa Cecilia!

There's magic in this place. The very air tastes of vivid colors. The town's pink and purple skies halo the blue mountains, hugging the valley and hills dotted with autumn's golden blush, leaves and marigold petals sprinkling the winding cobbled roads.

This is the spot. The inspiration hits him in his bones. He's going to write hits about this place—lyrical odes that would make him famous! As the traveling merchants said, as the wandering mariachi told him, this town is so, so…

A boot positions itself quite near his guitar. Héctor hurls backward, curling around his instrument as he half-somersaults into the wall of the street corner. Crisis averted, he uncurls.

It is a good boot. Sturdy, brown, and connected to a leg possessing verve and passion for life, judging by the way the boot pauses and then descends to the dusty road with something like a dancing skip.

But it's the surprised yet melodious "Pérdon" that seizes him and rattles something inside his thin artist's frame.

He looks up. Gasps,


The woman's answering raised eyebrow is full of arch and antipathy. Nevertheless, Héctor blesses the way it widens two dark, soulful eyes. Automatically, his own pair travel downward.

"A street dog," she sneers as she catches his stare.

A xolo, he is not. Wandering musician, yes. Though his troubadour days may be endangered, should Santa Cecilia have more stunningly picturesque visions to offer. He's heard about this town's abundant nature, the tantalizing markets and the sweet, sweet music—but madre mía—no one's told him about her.

He's just about to pick himself up, dust off a bit, try some dash and just a pinch of rogue wit (women liked that, yes?) but the young woman is now assessing his threadbare outfit with something different than the steely look from before.

And though Héctor does not take charity from strangers, does not beg from young ladies, he is stunned to silence by the fierce softness in her voice as she rummages in her skirt and takes out the crispest peso bill he's ever seen, pressing it into his mysteriously sweating palm.

"It's enough to cover the entry fee. Perform tonight, and you might win some prize money."

As she marches off, he notes the flowered detail of her wardrobe, sturdy brown boots not included. Perhaps she is a singer as well. Perhaps he could meet her again tonight, at the festival.


Héctor recalls that he was on his way to Mariachi Plaza. He feels a tug on his lips, as his hand sweeps the strings of his white guitar.

Híjole! Music is his path. He was about to have a change of plans and just follow her to the ends of the earth. But what woman is worth that?



Suzu: Héctor is crazy charming. In this piece, he's young and clearly still getting his act together. Thanks for reading this drabble, and come build the fandom!