The morning sun crept over the horizon, bathing the training grounds in soft golden light. Njuwa's body still ached from the previous day's climb, his muscles sore from carrying the heavy water barrels up the steep mountain path. He flexed his fingers, feeling the stiffness in his joints. The pain was a reminder—a reminder that he was growing stronger.
Jengo stretched beside him, groaning. "If we do this one more time, my legs are going to fall off."
Nyoka stood before them, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on her face. "Good. If you feel pain, it means your body is learning."
Jengo muttered something under his breath but did not argue further.
The barrels were waiting for them once more, filled to the brim with water. Njuwa glanced at them, already anticipating the challenge ahead. Today, they would have to climb again, but this time, he vowed not to lose even a single drop.
"You know the task," Nyoka said. "Begin."
Njuwa tightened his grip on the barrel, hoisting it onto his shoulders. The weight pressed down on him immediately, but he had grown accustomed to the strain. He took a deep breath and took his first step.
Jengo followed, his movements slower, his frustration clear on his face. "I don't get it. How is this supposed to make us stronger?"
Njuwa didn't respond. He knew the answer. The first time he carried the barrel, he had relied solely on his physical strength. But strength alone wasn't enough. He had to move with precision, maintain balance, control his breathing—just like in battle.
As they climbed, the wind picked up, pushing against them. The mountain did not make things easy. The path was treacherous, with loose rocks and steep inclines. Every step required effort, every shift of his weight had to be deliberate.
By the time they reached the halfway point, Jengo was panting heavily. "This… is impossible…"
Njuwa glanced at him, seeing the exhaustion in his eyes. He understood the struggle—he felt it too. But he refused to stop.
He adjusted his grip, centering his weight, and pressed on. Step by step, the peak drew closer.
When he finally reached the top, he carefully set the barrel down. His arms trembled, his legs ached, but when he looked inside—
The water level was nearly untouched.
Jengo collapsed beside him, gasping for breath. His barrel, however, had lost nearly a third of its contents.
Nyoka arrived moments later, her gaze landing on Njuwa's barrel. A small, approving smile crossed her lips. "Better."
Jengo groaned. "Tell me we're done."
Nyoka shook her head. "Not yet."
Njuwa wiped sweat from his brow, his breathing still heavy. "What now?"
Nyoka gestured toward the training grounds below. "Now, you fight."
Jengo sat up. "After this? You're serious?"
Nyoka did not answer. She simply pointed toward the clearing.
Njuwa forced himself to his feet, his body protesting. He knew this was the true challenge. Strength alone meant nothing if he could not apply it in battle.
As they descended, Nyoka handed them each a wooden staff. "You will spar. The first to land a clean strike wins."
Jengo grinned despite his exhaustion. "Now this I can do."
Njuwa steadied his grip, watching Jengo's movements carefully. The mountain climb had drained them both, but this fight would not be won with brute strength.
Jengo lunged first, swinging his staff in a wide arc. His attacks were powerful, but reckless. Njuwa sidestepped, letting the strike pass harmlessly by.
Jengo cursed and swung again. This time, Njuwa saw the movement before it fully formed. He ducked low, sweeping his own staff toward Jengo's legs.
Jengo barely avoided the blow, stumbling backward. He growled, frustration evident in his face. "Stop dodging and fight!"
Njuwa remained calm. "Fighting isn't just about swinging a weapon."
Jengo charged again, putting all his remaining strength into a downward strike. Njuwa's eyes sharpened. He waited until the last possible moment—then stepped forward, deflecting the attack with a swift movement of his staff.
Jengo was left completely open.
In one fluid motion, Njuwa struck, his staff landing lightly against Jengo's chest.
Silence fell between them.
Nyoka's smirk returned. "That's the difference between power and control."
Jengo scowled, dropping his staff. "Damn it."
Nyoka clapped her hands together. "Again."
Jengo groaned. "You're trying to kill us."
Nyoka's expression turned serious. "No. I'm trying to make sure you survive."
The sun hung low in the sky as they continued their training, each battle sharpening their reflexes, each movement refining their skills. The pain, the exhaustion—it was all part of the process.
Njuwa tightened his grip on his staff. He would not stop.
He was growing stronger.
And he would not stop until he was strong enough to change his fate.