The morning sun had barely risen, casting long shadows across the training ground as Ra Kuti and Jaka stood in their usual positions.
Ra Kuti had handed Jaka his wooden sword, his face serious, as usual. It was another day of swordsmanship training, but this time, something was different. Jaka wasn't ready to dive straight into the usual rhythm of their routine.
He had been thinking about something—something that had been weighing on him for days. It wasn't just about the sword anymore.
"Master," Jaka spoke up, his voice steady but carrying the weight of the thought he'd been carrying. "I think… I think it's time you trained with more than just the sword."
Ra Kuti paused, his sharp gaze meeting Jaka's. For a moment, the world around them seemed to still, as if even the breeze was holding its breath.
"What do you mean?" Ra Kuti asked, his tone calm but curious. His eyes, seasoned by countless battles, narrowed as he assessed Jaka. This wasn't just another question—it was something deeper.
Jaka's expression was serious. He had spent nights thinking about the nature of battle, of survival. The turmoil from his past still lingered in his chest, but the strength of the bonds he'd forged with the people around him—especially Ra Kuti—was slowly becoming the anchor that kept him grounded. He wasn't fully healed, not yet, but he was standing.
And that meant something.
"In war, every weapon matters," Jaka said, his voice low but firm. "We focus too much on the sword. You taught me how to fight with it. But there are other weapons—polearms, knives, even bows. In battle, you never know what you might face. I should train with everything."
Ra Kuti studied Jaka for a long moment, his face unreadable. It wasn't often that Jaka spoke with this much conviction.
And the truth was, he had been thinking about the same thing in his own way.
"I see," Ra Kuti finally said. "But, I can't teach what I don't know, boy. The sword is my weapon. It's what I've trained in for most of my life. It's the only thing I can truly show you."
Jaka held his ground, meeting Ra Kuti's gaze. "But you've seen so much in battle, Master. You've faced enemies wielding every weapon under the sun. You've fought in wars—real wars. Your experience with other weapons might not be through practice, but you've learned how to counter them, how to adapt. That's just as important, isn't it?"
Ra Kuti's eyes softened as he looked at Jaka, the faintest flicker of understanding crossing his features. "You're right," he said quietly. "In war, every weapon has its purpose. Every weapon can be deadly, depending on who wields it and how it's used."
Jaka nodded. "Exactly. And while I'm still learning the sword, I can't ignore the other weapons. I need to understand them—how they move, how they're used against me. That's why I'm asking you, Master. You may not wield them yourself, but your experience—how you've faced them in battle—can teach me how to handle them."
Ra Kuti was silent, his gaze distant. His mind wandered through the many wars he had fought in—the countless battles where the enemy had wielded a variety of weapons.
He wasn't just a swordsman; he was a seasoned warrior. He had fought with his life on the line, and that knowledge was something that no one could take from him.
"You want me to share my experience right?" Ra Kuti said, his voice thoughtful. "Not the technique of using other weapons, but how to fight against them?"
Jaka's response was immediate, his voice steady but filled with a quiet intensity. "Yes. That's what I need. We may not have the luxury of always choosing the battlefield or the weapons we have in our hands. But understanding how each weapon works, how to defend against it—those are things I can learn from you. Your experience is more valuable than any lesson in technique."
Ra Kuti's lips curled into a small, approving smile. He stepped forward, placing a hand on Jaka's shoulder. "You always have a sharp mind, boy. I've always known that. You've been through more than most your age, and you've learned from it."
Jaka met his gaze, though his eyes betrayed a quiet sorrow that hadn't fully healed. "I've been through a lot. But it's because of you—and everyone else—that I can still stand. That's why I need to learn. To be ready for anything."
Ra Kuti gave a firm nod, his hand still resting on Jaka's shoulder. "Very well, then. I can't teach you how to use the bow or the polearm as I do the sword. But I can teach you how to fight against them. I can teach you what to look for, what to expect. That's the best I can offer."
Jaka's eyes brightened, though his expression remained somber. "That's all I need."
Ra Kuti smiled, a rare expression for him, but one that Jaka would remember. "Let's begin, then. Today, we'll focus on the polearm. Learn its reach, learn how to defend against it."
They spent the rest of the morning and afternoon training.
Ra Kuti taught Jaka about the polearm's strengths and weaknesses, how it could control the battlefield with its reach, and how it could be countered with quick, precise movements.
Jaka adapted quickly, his mind focused on the strategies and counters Ra Kuti had shared.
As they progressed, Ra Kuti's lessons centered on teaching Jaka how to understand the nature of any weapon.
Though Jaka could not wield all of them, he began to absorb Ra Kuti's wisdom—learning the patterns, the ways each weapon moved, and how it was countered.
Ra Kuti might not have been able to teach Jaka how to wield a bow, but he could teach him to recognize the arc of its strike and how to avoid it. He might not know the intricacies of a polearm's use, but he understood the importance of timing when closing the gap.
And so Jaka, with every lesson, started to self-learn.
He didn't need to master each weapon—he only needed to understand it.
Versatility, was the key to surviving any battle.
He could wield the sword, but to truly be ready for anything, he needed to see beyond the sword.
His growth, from that day onward, centered on becoming a warrior who adapted, who learned from every encounter, and who could face any weapon with confidence.
By the end of the training session, the sun was dipping lower, casting long shadows across the training ground.
Jaka's muscles were sore, but his mind was sharp, his heart steady. He wasn't fully healed, and perhaps he never would be. But today, he had learned something important—not just about weapons, but about the kind of warrior he was becoming.
Ra Kuti stood beside him, watching him closely. "You're ready for more," Ra Kuti said, his voice soft but approving.
Jaka nodded, his heart steady. "I will be. With your help."
The two stood together, the fading light of the day casting them both in shadow as father and son—warriors bound by more than just blood, but by the lessons they had shared, and the battles still to come.