I placed my foot on the first step of the stage and moved slowly. Each step was steady and quiet. I kept my head high and my eyes on the wooden floor , never looking at the crowd or the warriors. I just let their voices roll over me like the afternoon sun. They shouted, saying I must be mad or brave. Some said I was surely walking into my own grave. Still, I kept my hands at my sides. My smile settled on my face as if it had nowhere else to be.
When I reached the top of the stage, everything below me seemed to fall away. The dust, the ground, and the whole village became a single space beneath my feet. I walked to the centre and let the boards take my weight. My steps made the only sound in the quiet that had fallen over the crowd. Daves was already there. His arms stretched and his legs bounced. His eyes never left my face. I looked at him and I smiled, relaxed. There was not a twitch in my hands or a flicker in my eyes. He watched me, maybe waiting for fear to show. Fear that never came.
The Master lifted his stick and his voice rang out, “Aha!”
All the Nuniya answered, “Aha!” in one breath. Then, as if a wind had carried them, every single warrior moved to one corner of the stage. They moved faster than anyone’s eyes could follow. Their bodies became a blur of muscle and colour. The crowd gasped. Women shouted and children pressed closer to their mothers. Old men shifted their hats so they could see better. Only Daves and I were left in the centre.
The Master’s voice was sharp but not loud. He spoke just one word, “Ajime.” The crowd erupted. Their voices rose above the dust and the heat. Some shouted for Daves, some shouted for me to apologise. Some just shouted because their hearts were beating too fast for silence. Daves stepped forward. His chest was out, his chin high and his face fierce with pride. He said it for all to hear, “One blow. I will kill you with one blow, stranger.”
I just stood there with my smile as if I was listening to a quiet song that no one else could hear. Daves did not wait. He came at me with his speed, the kind that makes people forget to breathe. His legs were light and his fist was straight. His whole body turned into that single punch and the crowd screamed his name. Their voices crashed against the stage like a river in flood. I did not move or even lift my hands.
His fist landed. It was a drumbeat that made the ground shiver. Pain cracked through my ribs and spun the world sideways. I skidded across the boards, my feet dragging and dust swirling around me. I dropped to my knees and coughed. The taste of blood was sharp on my tongue. The world spun in slow circles.
The villagers shouted. Some cheered, some screamed, some put their hands on their heads.
“He is dead!”
“One punch!”
“Daves finished him!”
“The stranger is gone!”
I stayed on my knees. My chest was heavy as the world went quiet for a moment. The pain was sharp and deep. Someone shouted to carry me away, saying it was over, saying there was nothing left.
But then I felt something inside me. It was not anger or fear. It was just that stubborn thing that rises when you refuse to give the world what it expects. I pressed my hands to the boards and curled my fingers in the dust. I pushed myself up, slow at first, crawling then standing. The pain twisted through me but my smile never left my face. Every movement felt heavy, as if the air itself did not want me to rise. I stood with my back straight and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I was still smiling, as if nothing had happened at all.
Now the crowd was confused. Their cheering turned into a restless whisper that rolled over the stage. They pulled at their ears, wondering if they were seeing a ghost or a dream. Some asked if I could be a hidden master. Some said I was a madman. Others thought I was a spirit in the skin of a man.
I heard every word but I just kept my smile. I looked at Daves. His eyes were wide and his breath came fast, as if he had just seen something no one else could see. The warriors in the corner did not move. Their faces were tight and their bodies tense. They watched every inch of me. It was as if they were waiting for me to suddenly fall back down.
I turned to the crowd and let my voice slice through the silence. I was not loud but clear enough for all of Somabhula to hear.
“Aha!” I shouted.
The silence that followed was even deeper than before. Even the Master seemed to freeze. His eyes locked on me and his mouth was half open as if he could not find the right words. How could a stranger speak the sacred chant of the Nuniya? How could someone beaten and bloodied stand there with that word on his tongue?
Nuniya Silver stood with the others. His anger burned hotter than the sun and his hands clenched at his side. The crowd became uneasy. They were no longer sure if they were watching a man or something more dangerous, something they did not understand. I saw their faces turn from excitement to fear. All around me the question grew, whispered in every corner, “Who is he?”
I just kept smiling and stood tall as if the answer was not for them, not yet. Who was I?
The silence that followed was even deeper than before. Even the Master seemed to freeze, his eyes locked on me, his mouth half open as if he could not find the right words. How could a stranger speak the sacred chant of the Nuniya? How could someone beaten and bloodied stand there with that word on his tongue?
Nuniya Silver was standing with the others, his anger burning hotter than the sun, his hands clenched at his side. The crowd was uneasy now, no longer sure if they were watching a man or something more dangerous, something they did not understand. I could see their faces turn from excitement to fear, and all around me the question grew, whispered in every corner, “Who is he?”
I just kept smiling, standing tall, as if the answer was not for them, not yet. Who was I?
