Breath, Rhythm, and Silence
The morning sun crept upward, sweeping away the thin mist that still clung stubbornly to the grass. The last dewdrop burst beneath my step as I stepped out of the hut, my chest full of spirit. The third day had come—another rung on the ladder waiting to be climbed.
Uncle was already standing at the training ground, as always. But this time, he wasn't holding a wooden stick, but a long, slender, and flexible tree branch.
"What's that?" I asked, approaching curiously.
"Not for attacking," he replied shortly. "Today, we learn something unseen, but it will decide your life or death on the battlefield."
I raised an eyebrow. "Unseen?"
"Breath, rhythm, and silence," he said. "If you fail to control your breath, you'll run out of strength. If your rhythm breaks, you'll be predictable. And if you can't recognize silence, you'll fall victim to what you never heard coming."
I fell silent, trying to absorb his meaning. Uncle gave a small nod, satisfied with my full attention.
"We'll start with breathing," he said.
The first drill sounded simple—attack slowly while keeping the breath steady. But in truth, my lungs burned quickly. Each time I swung the stick, my body reflexively held its breath.
"Let the air out as you move, don't hold it in," said Uncle, slapping my back hard. "Your body isn't an empty jar, kid. Let the energy flow."
I tried again. Strike, inhale. Defend, exhale slowly. Repeat.
After dozens of times, my body began to flow with the rhythm. Not too fast, not too slow. Breath and movement began to dance together.
"We move on," said Uncle. "Follow me."
We walked toward a small hillside, to an area thick with trees and the sound of the forest. Uncle looked at me seriously.
"Now it's time to listen."
"Listen?"
"More than that. Feel the terrain around you. Listen to your own breath—then erase your sound from this place."
I stood still. Wind brushed the leaves, branches rustled softly. A small bird swooped low. And… the sound of my foot stepping on a dead twig.
Uncle slipped in from the side, his stick tapping my shoulder.
"Dead."
I sighed. "I got careless."
"Not careless. You're not fully present yet."
I tried again. Closed my eyes. Aligned myself with the world around me. When I opened them, I moved—slowly, carefully, trying to become a shadow.
No sound. No held breath. No breaking branches.
Uncle smiled, and for the first time, he nodded with satisfaction. "Now you're starting to become a soldier."
The day ended with sweat pouring down, but in my silence, I felt... a piece of my puzzle begin to fall into place.
Uncle patted my shoulder. "Three days, and you're already starting to hear the field speak to you. If this keeps up... three weeks? No, we might finish in one."
I chuckled softly, glancing at the orange sky that had begun to fade. In my heart, I knew—the road was still long. But today, I stepped closer.