Two opposites stood in an open grassy field with kendo swords and a fighting stance. General Suke is medium height, bald, steadfast, and focused on the person at his opposite: Zulu, tall for a seventeen-year-old. His stance is locked yet loose, his eyes committed yet cautious.
The wind eased past them, swaying the teenager's robes in unison with the grass. Suke remained as still as the mountains behind him. Zulu gripped his weapon.
He lunged forward, expecting a movement from his opponent and planning a reaction. His opponent appeared closer, at a standstill. Suke didn't budge; this wasn't a part of Zulu's plan.
Suke finally moved. Avoiding collision, Zulu stepped to the right but quickly had to put his left guard up to absorb a back fist from Suke. Before thinking, he instinctively twisted his body to block a strike from the sword toward his lower leg.
He realized his mistake right there, a split second before Suke's lead hook struck his face. Somewhat dazed, he quickly recuperated, knowing that Suke would be coming in for an attack. He was right this time.
Zulu successfully blocks Suke's incoming blow. The two continue to dance around each other with tight footwork and attempted strikes. Zulu focused on trying to find an opening. There had to be one somewhere.
Suke slid forward. Zulu puts his hand up to block. A blow to his ribs caused him to stagger a little, leaving his entire side open.
Zulu backs up. Suke follows. He had to get it together- A jab popped into his face. That was enough for him. Quit thinking.
The wind settled him, and his awareness widened. A deep breath, for good measure, let him notice everything around him, every movement, every shift, such as the sword approaching from his left.
Zulu blocked it and countered with another strike. Suke blocked as the two went toe to toe with counters and strikes. He can take this now.
He backed up and focused on Suke following him. He was moving towards him, closer and closer. Suke makes a move, a rear kick.
Zulu began to move in for a strike but stopped when he noticed Suke turned his kick into a step. He quickly looked to the other foot and saw a hook kick coming his way.
He quickly switched stances and grabbed Suke's leg. Pushing his momentum to his lead foot, he hook-kicked  Suke on the side.
He hit him. He landed a blow on his uncle. Suddenly, he is forced down, his back on the ground, accompanied by a terrible stretch that struck across his arm.
There was no way out, and the pain was too much. He couldn't think of a way out of this. He was thinking. He tapped out, and Suke relieved his arm.
Zulu sat up, comforting his arm with a rub and comforting his confidence with a sigh. Suke approached and reached out his hand, a warm smile resting on his face. Zulu smiles back and accepts his help.

Zulu nursed his injuries with bandages as he sat by the fire outside his family home, a medium stone hut that exuded home-cooked meals. He looks out into the nature ahead of him: giant mountains, spots of green fields, and visible wildlife. The scope and vividness put him at ease as he hoped his sore body would do the same soon.
"Your improvement has been showing." Zulu turned to Suke's familiar voice. His uncle sat beside him.
"I noticed as well," Zulu responded.
"You did?" asked Suke, sitting astute. "What did you observe?" Zulu sat up a little bit.
"Well, I hit you for the first time. That's quite a landmark." Suke nods while stroking his beard.
"I agree. That is quite the landmark." Zulu nodded with a smile.
"So it seems you have made two, Zulu."
"Two?"
"Yes, why do you believe you were able to hit me?" Zulu began to think. Suke nudged him.
" It has much to do with what you're doing right now," Suke clued. Zulu looked at him strangely but then relaxed into a content smile.
"I stopped thinking. Felt things out." Suke nodded and added,
"Maybe next time you should start with that. You'll have the advantage over me without getting hit as much." Zulu shares his laugh with Suke.
"It's easier said than done, sometimes, Uncle."
"You're afraid of getting hit."
"Yes. But everyone is."
"No. Nobody likes getting hit. Not everyone is afraid of getting hit." Suke turns to him. Zulu notices and does the same as they sit across from each other.
"When in battle, you mustn't use that mindset. It's limiting. What is 'The Way of the Three'?"
"The body motivates the mind, and the mind is fueled by the spirit." Suke nods.
"And remember, your spirit powers everything. And you, nephew, have a strong one." Zulu contains his grin, and a sudden waft of hot and delicious food conquered their noses.
"If I know anything, it's when my sister's almost finished with dinner. Let's get inside."
"Okay. I'm coming."
Suke walked inside as Zulu stood up. He turned around and gazed at the sun setting peacefully in the colorful nature, the golden rays of the sunset mixing in with the autumn of the forest.
Zulu basked for a moment and then went inside.

Moments later, Zulu shared a wonderful meal with his uncle and parents. The household's men sat beside each other, goofing around like children. The sight entertained Zulu, and his mother shook her head while smiling.
The family continued to eat, laugh, and enjoy each other's time well into the night. However, the night ended as Suke reminded Zulu that they would get up early to collect produce, hunt, and train.
Before retiring, however, Zulu and his father always sat outside by a fire, where Zulu would hear stories of their family's Clan, "The Chakas," and their family crest, "The Akan."
"Our ancestors were reminded of our original home. 'Mecca,' as we call it," his father explained.
"By General Chaka," added Zulu.
"Correct," his father said proudly. "Once the Feudal Age ended, our Clan parted in three ways. Some returned to Mecca, and others followed General Chaka to the New Land."
The patriarch looked at his son, expecting another addition to the conversation. Zulu noticed and added,
"The New Land was envisioned to Chaka within a prophecy. The Chaka Clan should make a home within the land to save its future."
"Yes, yes. Correct," Zulu's father said with another smile of pride. However, he was unable to see the questioning look on his son.
"Father, may I ask you something?" He turned to his son.
"Of course."
"Well...do you believe in that prophecy? And if they even made it to the New Land?"
His father looked away, staring into the stars that hovered beyond the forest.
"Faith is a tricky thing, my son. We cannot see it. It can only be felt. But once it's felt, you know it exists."
Zulu pondered on his father's answer before slightly nodding.
"Your uncle had to rely on our family's faith to get back to us." Zulu looked at him surprisingly.
"You've never told me this."
"Really? Well, I will tell you. But once finished, we must retire for the night. Remember your duty in the morning."
"Yes, sir," said Zulu, turning to him.
"Your uncle was lost to us years ago by our parents' separation. I only had vague memories of him from our childhood. But I had faith that one day we would reunite."
"When your mother and I were chased off our farmlands by Clans, we were rescued by the Chaka Clan and able to seek refuge on their territory."
The fire cracked sharply and loudly but did not break Zulu's concentration and intrigue.
"When finding an area to settle in, I saw a strange tree curved like the goose on our family symbol. I was unaware of that symbol's meaning but knew its imagery well. We settled there.
"One day,  a stranger walked toward our land. A warrior was traveling across the States, fighting through other Clans to survive. He sought refuge in Chaka territory as well.
"What brought him to our land was the same tree that brought us here. And with him, he had the meaning of the symbol: 'Go Back and Get It.' He had no idea why that tree was there. But we both knew our faith in our family brought us back together."
Zulu is somewhat surprised by the story as he watches his father stand up."Faith must be felt, son. And if you always do right, your feelings can be a reliance. And with that. We must end our night. Come."
Zulu stands up and assists his father. Together, they put the fire out. The only illumination within the night is the stars above, shaping the silhouettes of nature before it.

Zulu and Suke trekked through the forest until they reached a comprehensive clearing that concluded with a cliff in the distance. The sound of the river could be heard through their ears. It was their usual place for fishing. Once they finished there, they'd pick produce, and sometimes more hunting.
After fishing, they hiked along until they reached a natural embankment with plenty of fruits harvested amongst trees. Zulu surveyed his environment.
Of course, provided with the embankment, there was a river with a little rush. Nothing that the human body couldn't handle, however. However, all the trees were lined up with attention to the river with plentiful produce.
Zulu walked amongst the trees, seeing what fruit combinations his mother would enjoy using. He looked to see Suke getting to work and picking trees quicker than the execution of his hook kick. He figured that it was time to do the same.
As he and his uncle worked, he realized his arm was tired. He had been so focused on work that he forgot to switch arms. Zulu smiled as he rolled his eyes.  At that moment, his uncle approached him, patting him on his arm.
"I'm sure your other side could use a turn." Zulu chuckled at his joke. Suke smiles back and turns to the horizon.
"I saw some hunting game out there, and I'd like to take advantage of that. You continue picking over here, and I'll return soon."
"Okay." Suke nods and jogs off over the horizon. Zulu continues to pick.

Time passed, and Zulu finally settled on what he had picked. He looked down at his gathering to see the assortment of colors on the fruit.
The color reminded Zulu to look around as he pondered the lessons his uncle and father told him.
The idea of feeling was lost to him. To dismiss thinking to feel out of a situation seemed like a ludicrous idea.
However, he found the Flow Method idea pretty absurd until he saw his uncle in full action. The Rhythm Method seemed more of his type, using all those pre-made combinations and having a way out of any situation.
However, Flow is critical with the strikes, so much so that it made connecting small and crucial strikes easier. He should be gathering. He'll save those thoughts for later.
It's best to go to the meeting area and wait for his uncle. He could bring something up with his father.
Before he could go, however, he spotted a tree he hadn't seen before—one further down from the others but right along the embankment.
Right above the river was a branch that held peaches—a rarity for this region.
His mother loved them, and so did he. It would be nice if he could convince her to use them for dessert after a nice day of gathering food. This would be worth it.
Zulu walked over to the three, placing his bag on the ground as he got closer. There were enough branch roots to climb up, but getting across to the fruit would depend solely on the branch they hung from.
Usually, this would be dangerous, but the water below him wasn't rushing; even if he did fall, as long as he controlled his landing, he would be fine.
He grasped a grip on one of the tree roots and pulled himself up until he aligned with the branch that held the peaches. He climbed it.
The branch seemed strong enough as he continued to shimmy across, granted the thickest part of the tree is always the strongest. The optimism did help him, though.
As he got closer, he could feel the warmth of his mother cooking the peaches into something—cobbler, pies, so many desserts that she could improvise. There's no telling what she would cook up.
A slight crack shattered his thoughts. Zulu's stomach tied into a knot. Another crack followed. He looked back to see a few splinters extruding from the tree.
Zulu looked forward to seeing how far the peaches were. With a few more shimmies, they could be at arm's reach.
Was it worth it? He could always wait for Suke to see if there's another way. But who knows if Suke will be tired? He's been hunting for quite some time. Were there any rocks below that water? He didn't think of that.
Is this a situation where he had to feel? Or should he stop thinking? There was only one way to find out.
Zulu pulled himself into a medication, feeling everything around him, including his weight on the tree.
He continued to look for any clue. Something that would tell him whether or not this was worth it. Where was the answer?
He received something different: the sound of rushing water. He opened his eyes to see the river galloping water down the embankment with devastating speed. Yes, this was officially dangerous.
There was another crack, followed by several almost in unison. Zulu had just registered that the branch had broken as the wind rushed up his body before being cooled further by the river below him.
Zulu desperately swam up to get air. Relieving his lungs, he saw the water continuously pushing him away from where he was.
He swam against the current, battling every wave that slapped him back as he pursued further. However, the waves proved too dominant for Zulu, as he saw his landmark fall further into the distance before a mighty wave launched him back. A collision in the back of his head blacked everything in an instant.