The next morning, before the sun even rose, Raider was already standing in the yard behind the house, his body covered in sweat, his fists pressed against the hard ground, two sandbags hanging from a branch of the mango tree as he did push-ups without stopping, his steady breathing cutting through the silence of the sleeping village.
“Get up, Rambo!” he shouted without raising his head, “the sun is about to rise!”
Rambo came out dragging his feet, his body sore, his eyes still heavy with sleep, he looked at his brother with a mix of fatigue and respect, “but we ran for two hours yesterday!” he protested, his voice still hoarse.
“And today we do three hours” Raider replied, jumping to his feet, he adjusted the straps around his wrists and stared straight into his brother’s eyes, “the Princess doesn’t take the weak, so stop complaining and move.”
The days that followed were a real hell for Rambo, Raider gave him no rest, they ran through the cassava fields with bags of stones on their backs, their muscles burning under the weight and the heat of the sun, they ran up to the top of the hill behind Kisolo and then sprinted back down, out of breath from the effort and the dust sticking to their damp skin.
In the evenings, Raider taught his brother the basic techniques their father had shown them before he died, the stance, the breathing, the way to strike without shouting to save energy for the decisive moment, Rambo often fell, his knees scraped, his palms bleeding, but he always got back up, more determined than before, he sometimes vomited from exhaustion but he never stopped.
Nanu watched them from the doorway, a cloth in her hand, she said nothing but her tired eyes shone with silent pride, she treated their wounds with leaves and warm water, she bandaged their bleeding hands without ever complaining, just a gentle look and a tired smile.
On the third day, while they were training near the big mango tree in the center of the village, a man passed by on the dirt path, he was tall and thin, wearing a long black coat that reached his ankles, a hat pulled down hid his face, he stopped in front of the golden poster still attached to the tree trunk, the paper fluttering softly in the wind, he stared at it for a long time without saying a word, his fingers almost touched the paper before he suddenly pulled his hand back, he glanced at Raider and Rambo who were doing pull-ups hanging from a branch, then he continued on his way without looking back, silent, his arms swinging.
Raider stopped for a moment, out of breath, his eyes fixed on the figure walking away, “did you see that guy?” he asked his brother without taking his eyes off the black coat disappearing into the distance.
“Who?” replied Rambo, out of breath, focused on his effort, his arms trembling under his weight.
“Nothing” Raider murmured, shaking his head, “just a traveler probably”, but he had felt something strange in that man’s gaze, as if he knew the poster, as if he knew what it really meant, a strange feeling that stayed planted in his mind like a thorn.
On the sixth day, Raider took Rambo to the mountains behind Kisolo, there were only rocks, a freezing waterfall and a thick silence broken only by the sound of water crashing against the stones, the air was pure and cold, the trees were rare and twisted by the wind, it was a wild and isolated place, perfect for training without distractions.
“Close your eyes” Raider ordered, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “dad said that a real guard doesn’t just use his fists, he reads the danger before it arrives, he feels it in the air, in the silence, in people’s eyes.”
Rambo obeyed, his eyelids closed, his breathing slowed, he listened to the sound of the water, the wind in the trees, his own heart beating loudly in his chest, for an hour they stood still under the freezing waterfall, the cold water pounding their shoulders, numbing their muscles, they had to break bamboo with a single palm strike, their hands red and swollen until the wood finally gave way with a dry crack, they ran on wet rocks without slipping, they jumped from stone to stone like hunted animals.
“Again!” Raider repeated tirelessly, “you’re slower than last time!”
Rambo gritted his teeth, tears in his eyes, the pain burning in his arms but he struck again, again and again, until the bamboo broke under his palm, his fists were bloody, his knees scraped, but he didn’t stop, he couldn’t stop.
In the evening, around the fire, Nanu told them stories of the Zero Kingdom, she spoke of King Lihan, his unwavering loyalty, the price his guards paid to protect their kingdom, she spoke of courage and sacrifice, of death that always lurked for those who wore the armor, Rambo listened in silence, his wounds still burning but his eyes shining with a new light, a flame he had never felt before.
The last days were the hardest, Raider invented impossible fights, one against two, blindfolded, in the pouring rain, he hit his brother without warning to teach him to react without thinking, to feel the danger before it touched him, to get up again and again until his body could no longer move.
“If you fall on the day of the tournament, you die” Raider said, his voice hard and cold, “if you give up, mom cries, so you have no right to give up, you have no right to fall, understand me well.”
Rambo didn’t answer, he got up, he moved forward, he didn’t stop anymore, each day he was a little stronger, a little faster, a little closer to his brother, he no longer cried when he fell, he no longer screamed when he was in pain, he had become harder, more solid, more determined than ever.
On the evening of the thirteenth day, they returned to the mango tree in the center of the village, the poster was still there, a little torn by the wind, the edges wrinkled and yellowed, but still visible, still attached, Raider placed his hand on it, his fingers brushing the paper worn by time.
“Tomorrow we leave” he said, looking at the horizon, “for mom, for dad, for Kisolo, for us”, he turned to his brother, a gleam of fire in his eyes, “are you ready?”
Rambo nodded, he didn’t say a word, he didn’t need to speak, his eyes spoke for him, they burned with a determination that nothing could extinguish, there was no more fear in his gaze, no more doubt, no more hesitation, only fire, only rage, only the will to win.
They walked home in silence, the stars shining above their heads, the wind blowing softly through the trees, tomorrow everything would change.
End of chapter 2
“Raider and Rambo are finally ready to leave Kisolo for the tournament, but who is that man in the black coat who observed the poster?
And why did his gaze seem so strange?
The answer in the next chapter!”
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