The morning air was crisp, the scent of damp earth mingling with the faint aroma of wildflowers. Njuwa stood at the center of the clearing, his breath steady, his stance firm. Across from him, Jengo flexed his fingers, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Nyoka watched them with her usual sharp gaze. "You have trained your bodies. You have begun to sense the energy within and around you. Now, it is time to test your ability to fight."
Njuwa tightened his grip on the wooden staff in his hands. It was a simple weapon, worn smooth by countless hours of training, but today it felt heavier than usual. Jengo twirled his own staff lazily, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a casual brawl.
"I'm going to enjoy this," Jengo said with a grin.
Njuwa said nothing. He wasn't afraid of Jengo's strength—he had sparred with him before. But today was different. Today, Nyoka would be watching closely, judging their progress.
"Begin," she commanded.
Jengo lunged first, his staff swinging in a wide arc. Njuwa barely had time to react. He ducked, the wooden weapon whistling past his ear. His feet moved instinctively, retreating a few steps as Jengo pressed forward with another quick strike.
Too fast.
Njuwa barely parried the blow, the impact jarring his arms. Jengo was relentless, attacking with brute force, his strikes heavy and unyielding. Njuwa knew he couldn't match him in raw strength. He had to be smarter.
He shifted his stance, focusing not on Jengo's attacks but on the energy flowing through his own body. He inhaled deeply, steadying himself. When Jengo swung again, Njuwa moved—not away, but with the strike.
Instead of blocking directly, he deflected it, redirecting the force just enough to lessen the impact. The moment Jengo hesitated, Njuwa struck.
His staff darted forward, aiming for Jengo's ribs. It wasn't a powerful hit, but it was fast. Jengo barely managed to step back, his eyes flashing with surprise.
Nyoka smiled slightly. "Good. You're learning."
Jengo scowled. "That was lucky."
He attacked again, this time adjusting his approach. Instead of wild swings, his movements became sharper, more controlled. Njuwa struggled to keep up.
Each clash of their staffs sent vibrations up his arms. He could feel his energy responding to his intent, pulsing with every movement. But it wasn't enough.
Jengo feinted left before striking from the right. Njuwa moved to block—but too late.
The staff slammed into his side. Pain exploded through his ribs, and he staggered backward, gasping.
"Point goes to Jengo," Nyoka declared.
Jengo grinned, breathing heavily. "You're getting better, but you're still too slow."
Njuwa clenched his teeth, frustration boiling in his chest. He knew he wasn't as physically strong as Jengo. But strength alone wasn't the only path to victory.
He exhaled, forcing himself to focus. The pain in his ribs faded to a dull ache.
"Again," he said.
Jengo smirked. "Gladly."
The second round began, and this time, Njuwa didn't just react—he anticipated.
Jengo came at him with another powerful strike, but instead of blocking, Njuwa sidestepped at the last moment, letting the attack pass harmlessly by. Before Jengo could recover, Njuwa struck low, sweeping his staff at his opponent's legs.
Jengo barely managed to jump over it.
But Njuwa was already moving.
He pressed forward, attacking with quick, precise strikes. Jengo blocked most of them, but his movements grew sloppy under the sudden pressure.
Then Njuwa saw it—a brief opening in Jengo's defense.
He didn't hesitate.
His staff struck Jengo's shoulder, not hard enough to injure, but enough to make him stumble. Jengo cursed, backing away.
Nyoka raised a hand. "Point goes to Njuwa."
Jengo exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulder. "Alright, that was good."
Njuwa nodded, satisfaction settling in his chest. He wasn't stronger than Jengo, but he had proved that he could hold his own.
Nyoka stepped between them. "That is enough for today."
They both lowered their staffs, breathing hard.
Nyoka studied them for a moment before speaking. "Strength alone is not enough. Nor is speed. To win a battle, you must master both your body and your energy. In time, your attacks will not only strike with force but with intent. That is the path of a true cultivator."
She turned to Njuwa. "You relied on instinct, which is good. But instinct without refinement is reckless. Learn to sharpen it."
Njuwa nodded.
Then she faced Jengo. "You depend on your strength, but brute force will not always win. Learn to read your opponent, or you will be outmatched by those who are faster and smarter."
Jengo sighed. "Fine, fine. I get it."
Nyoka smirked. "Good."
She turned away, her expression growing more serious. "Rest for today. Tomorrow, we begin the real training."
Njuwa frowned. "Real training?"
Nyoka's eyes gleamed. "You will see."
---
That night, Njuwa sat by the fire, staring into the flames. His body ached from the sparring, but he didn't mind. The pain was proof of his progress.
Jengo sat beside him, rubbing his shoulder. "You really got me with that last strike."
Njuwa smirked. "You underestimated me."
Jengo chuckled. "Maybe. But don't get cocky. I'll beat you next time."
They sat in silence for a while, the crackling fire the only sound.
Eventually, Njuwa spoke. "Do you ever think about the future?"
Jengo raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
Njuwa hesitated, then said, "About what comes next. After all this training. After… everything."
Jengo was quiet for a moment. Then he sighed. "I don't know. I try not to think too far ahead." He glanced at Njuwa. "Why? Do you?"
Njuwa stared at the fire. "I have to."
Jengo frowned but said nothing.
Njuwa's fists clenched. He couldn't afford to only think about the present. He had to be stronger—not just for himself, but for those who had been taken, for those who had suffered.
For his village.
Nyoka had said that tomorrow, the real training would begin.
Njuwa was ready.