On a Friday evening, 26th nov. 2004, Letlo Vin got a phone call from a young woman screaming and crying. Soon after, while stumbling down the stairs, he was called by the local newspaper. Takeda is dead, they said.
Yes...I know...I'm going to his house right now.
Some says he killed himself, we know he was a very fond friend of yours, may I ask...
Don't say a word, please. I know. I'm going right now.
The car ran fast. Letlo's heart ran faster. Tears bursted in his eyes. Fuck, how could you wish to die at 28? How could you do this to me?
The car reached the solitary road where Takeda and his wife bought a small flat with a 25 years mortgage. A foggy 24hrs bar was right beside the flat.
Antonio was there. He hadn't been told yet. Letlo told him.
The peruvian neighbour didn't want to open the gate. Letlo swore kicked climbed got in.
A young woman, an old man and an old woman were crying.
Then all his friends came. Everybody was trying to recollect all those good memories and hide pain. But pain was rising like a dark mist in the room. Everybody was seeing it.
Many hours later Letlo got out. Antonio was still right there where he had met him. He hadn't said a word since. Motionless. Surrendered.
Takeda lays buried in a country churchyard where he is supposed to rest in peace, finally.
Letlo Vin composed some songs in his memory some years later and promised never to surrender.