Bad Boy Agents

Reminisce the taste of grief

The night began to approach, the clear sky had changed dark. The twilight that had fluttered in the vast sky, had sunk replaced the darkness of the night without the stars. Until bedtime came, a Shaka was still sitting pensively in front of the window of his room. His eyes could not be closed. The atmosphere of this house is quiet, but the contents of his head are noisy full of frenetic frenzy.

Every time he was alone in this vast room, the shadow of the younger brother reappeared in his mind. His laughter, his innocent behavior and all the things about the teenager he loved so much were like torments for his guilt and longing.

That's why he prefers to wander around at night in search of traces of his sister's death. Like tonight, to get rid of his fatigue, Shaka chose to go out of the house. He took his leather jacket, helmet and motorcycle keys. He went somewhere, where he came a week ago.

The sound of a motorbike engine was heard roaring, carrying noise in the garage area that was underground. For a month now he has been living alone in this house, the house that he has been living in during his disguise as Shaka Praditya, the son of a successful businessman.

The black sports bike came out of its nest. He traced a thin paved road, circled a little around the fountain pool in front of his house and exited the gate guarded by security officers. The sturdy man nodded politely as a form of greeting to his host.

The 17 inch diameter wheel kept turning rolling the paved road. Shaka deliberately slowed down the speed of his motorbike, he wanted to enjoy the cold night air. Eight years he left the city of Jakarta and studied in a remote area and moved abroad about four years ago to successfully become a special agent.

A lot has changed in this big city. Sturdy buildings lined up neatly with lights lit up in every corner of the city that was like never sleeping. This big city began to be neatly organized, much different from when he first set foot in the capital with his uncle.

Huh, that time was a long time ago, but it felt like it was only yesterday.

Satisfied to wade through the crowded streets, Shaka pulled his motorcycle over to a simple residential area. Shaka deliberately turned off the engine so that the noise did not disturb those who were resting. There was a house he went to.

In front of an orange-painted house, Shaka's motorbike stopped. The house was right near the river stream that had just been dredged. The water is cleaner than before and no longer smelled the pungent smell of garbage that makes nausea and dizziness.

Shaka opened the rusty iron gate until it made a squeaking sound. From the outside he saw some of the curtains of the house were still open. The shadow of a woman is seen from the outside, watching the soap opera love-love on television. The teak door leaf was also knocked.

“Before,” soft voice sounded from inside the house there. A hooded woman scoops a little strand of curtain cloth to see who the guests are coming for. “Shaka!” the woman immediately opened the door of her house.

“Assalamu ‘alaikum, Tan,” greet Shaka who directly kissed the aunt's hand. This woman who for years guarded and raised Shaka and Rasya, after both her parents died.

“Wa’alaikum greetings. Come in,” the woman opened the door wider. Shaka immediately took off his helmet and found the atmosphere of a quiet house.

“Alone, Tan?” ask Shaka.

“Iya. Um you're on the night shift, so you just left at seven. The children are asleep, he said tomorrow there is a repetition. Thank goodness you came,” the woman rubbed the sturdy arm of the nephew whose height far exceeded his height. About 185 cm tall Shaka.

“You've eaten?” ask Yulita. This woman is the younger sister of Shaka and Rasya's mother.

“Udah, Tan. I'm going to Rasya's room ya.”

“Iya. you nginep right?”

“Iya,” sahut Shaka. He climbed the stairs to the second floor, where his room and Rasya were located.

In front of him was a room with blue door leaves. The color has begun to fade, because the last time he painted with Rasya about eight years ago. At the door it is still attached to the inscription 'Don’ disturb', which was intentionally on Rasya's temple as a teenager is not wanting to be disturbed.

Shaka turned the handle of the room door and not long the door was open. The fragrance of Rasya's perfume still smelled in the room, Shaka sighed deeply, smelling the perfume he so longed for.

Then he sat in Rasya's study chair. Staring at the multi-storey bed he used to occupy with Rasya. Rasya sleeps on top and he's on the bottom. Shaka lamented the rarity of the time he spent with Rasya.

Shaka and Rasya were abandoned by their parents since they were children. His mother and father died in an accident. They leave eleven-year-old Shaka and two-year-old Rasya. So they stayed with Yulita. At the age of only twelve, Rasya and he joined Yulita to Jakarta.

Rasya continued his schooling in the city, while Shaka entered the military academy. During his education, only occasionally Shaka returned to this house. And for four years abroad, Shaka has never been home. His duties in continental Europe were too heavy, he only exchanged news with his sister by phone or letter.

Their communication can be said to be quite effective even though they rarely meet. On the phone, they can talk all night, talk about the future and other things that make them laugh together. Really, Shaka missed that time. A time when he and his sister encouraged each other.

“Kak, I will also be an agent. Can ya?” pinta Rasya one time. At that time Shaka did not answer. He knew his brother was weak. His leg was broken when the boy was six years old. He could not promise whether the younger brother could become an agent like himself or not.

“If you have ambitions, pursue them earnestly. Trust me, effort will not betray results.” That was all Shaka said to encourage Rasya.

“Yes, I'll mean it. I'm all good grades. I never got into the top three in class. So I could definitely be Shaka's kayak agent. Excitement!!!” rasya shouted while clenching her hands, complete with a large voice because it was approaching balig.

Right now, Shaka could only rub her face slowly and cupped her for a while. I want to cry but it is useless. So what should he do now? Finding information at Rasya school is not easy. Access to information is completely closed. The identities of the students are hidden and they are not even allowed to have social media accounts. I don't know since when it happened, probably since Rasya's death a month ago.

Unraveling her sadness and loss, Shaka chose to look at the photo of Rasya on the wall. A photo of him with his sister as Rasya gets a debate champion in English. His sister is indeed smart in academics and language, Shaka always feels proud to have a Rasha. He smiled at Rasya's proud laughter.

He also casually opened the drawer of Rasya's study table, checking the contents that turned out to be empty. But when it's closing, something's up. Shaka checked the drawer from below. Groped into the drawer because it seemed like something was getting in the way. His wide, long hands combed down the drawer until he found something. There's an agenda book there.

Shaka frowned, he was curious about the notebook, why should it be hidden under the drawer? The leather cover-bound agenda book is still intact, though dusty. Open them one by one pages of white paper.

The first page of Shaka is presented with Rasya's story with her. There are many photos attached. The happy moments were both written by his sister with neat writing similar to the writing of the teachers.

Shaka smiled when he saw the many stories recorded on this agenda. He opens the next page. The young man was taken aback by Rasya's writing which felt foreign to him.

His eyes until round staring at every thread of letters that his sister wrote. The writing is not very neat, done in a hurry and full of emotion. Can Shaka imagine that at that time the sister was so upset when writing these sentences.

“How are you, that bastard who always treated me harshly?

Are your days beautiful?

I hope you never find calm,

Just like I can't sleep well after getting bullied from you.

I remember all your rude behavior.

I also remember every word that harassed me.

You made my life seem to stop, made my world dark and scary.

I still remember all the wounds, the insults, the blood and everything that made me grimace and cry

Later, you will feel it.

Later, you will be frightened.

Later, you are the one who wants to give up.

You will feel fear just as I do.

I’a hope you will never meet the sun.

Die down! Die in my hatred!

Wait for me bastard, wait up,

I make sure you guys will pay for any pain I experience!”

Shaka's chest churned feeling the pain and anger that Rasya described through his writing. The man squeezed the white paper with the red ink. His heart was broken, having his sister treated inhumanely.

What has Rasya been suffering from all this time? Doesn't he always say in his letters that he's okay? Fine as to what Rasya really felt?

Shaka was glued, not moving. His chest felt tight and his tears just dripped. He wanted to find the perpetrator hidden by the school. Who are those cowards?

“Shaka,” a voice sounded from out there. Shaka quickly wiped away her tears.

“Iya, Tan,” sahutnya with a heavy and hoarse voice.

Yulita immediately approached the nephew, then cupped the young man's face. He saw Shaka's red and wet eyes. Shaka's body trembled with his broken cry, he could not hide his sadness any longer, especially after he read Rasya's death message.

“They killed Rasya, they killed Rasya!” shaka snorted with a heavy voice while crying.

Yulita does not chim. He prefers to hug Shaka who has difficulty speaking. He let the young man spill all his sorrow. He felt Shaka's hands clenched on his back, full of anger. There was nothing Yulita could do but let Shaka's anger evaporate with her tears.

“Who did Tan, try saying. Who bullied Rasya?” shaka's voice stammered.

Yulita let go of her embrace for a while, she stared fixedly at that crimson face then rubbed it. Then he shook his head. “Tante also does not know,” said Yulita stammering.

“How can aunty not know! Aunty who has been near Rasya!” Shaka's emotions exploded. He stood up and ruffled his waist and punched Rasya's study table until it cracked. Yulita nodded until she covered her ears.

“Police didn't find anything, Shaka. Rasya's body was found lying on the side of the road with a stab wound to his stomach. Aunty asked the police and they stated that this was an assault case. No witnesses, no evidence. The knife used to attack also does not leave a fingerprint.”

“Tante also came to his school. Aunty asked all the teachers and students, but no one answered. They were all silent, as if they had been given the order not to discuss anything. They don't even want to talk about Rasya's death."

"It's weird, auntie didn't find any evidence. The school was completely silent, the parents were the same. What can aunt do? Aunty can what, Shaka?” ask the woman who cried.

Holding Shaka's sturdy arm which he shook. His body felt weak every time he remembered the difficulty of searching for the fact of his nephew's death. He sat down on the floor. Repeating this story to Shaka seems to repeat the pain of knowing Rasya left. Very painful and very sick.

Not only did Shaka lose a good Rasha, but Yulita was also his family. Losing Rasya is as painful as losing her own child.

Shaka does not chimed in on Yulita's speech. He opens the next page. And another surprising thing he found. There's a picture stuck there. Photo of Rasya with a girl. The girl he often met.

“Tante know this girl?” ask Shaka.

Yulita looked up, looking at the photo Shaka showed. “Yes, aunty has seen Rasya make several video calls with the girl, it looks like they are friends with quite close,” Yulita said with confidence.

Shaka no longer spoke. He stared at the face of the girl in the photo. A face that can smile with her sister. He also saw Rasya's big smile. The girl's name was even written with a heart emblem at the end of her name.

“Why are you silent now?” shaka asked the photo.

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