Ten days passed slowly for Javad. His life seemed even more boring than usual with something interesting on the horizon. He did his chores and worked in the field with his uncles. To avoid raising his father’s suspicions, he tried to do a reasonable job. He was going to need to clear the half-day with him. He didn’t want to be on bad terms.

With ten days to plan it, he had a suitable excuse ready for his absence. He told his father one of the retired soldiers, Kadir, was going to show him a few moves. He even “borrowed” a wooden practice sword from him and practiced with it for a while. Kadir was one of the few who seemed to like him around, and would cover for him if his father asked. But Javad didn’t expect his father to follow up.

On the tenth day, when noon came around, Javad already had everything ready, and jogged his way across the border. It seemed like a much shorter journey than the first time. He came over the hill, and spotting Shora, he raised the sword.

She laughed at him when she saw the weapon and ran towards him. Before he could react, she batted the weapon away and smacked him in the jaw.

“Why’d you do that?” He shouted.

“You had the weapon. Why didn’t you stop her?” Her brother asked, leaning out the door.

“I wasn’t ready,” Javad said. “I wanted to greet her first.”

“She can’t speak your language. That little smack was the greeting.” He spoke to Shora for a moment, then turned back to Javad. “Get ready. Stop Shora from getting close. Use that weapon of yours.”

“But she doesn’t have a weapon,” Javad said, but he readied the sword all the same.

Shora rushed towards him again, and when he swung at her, she leaned away, her body language casual. She stepped towards him as he recovered to swing again. She was only walking, and he chopped down at her. He struck only air, and she was beside him. Her fist smacked into his stomach, and he dropped the sword into the dirt.

“You don’t know how to use your feet. A weapon will not help,” the tall orc said.

He winced from the blow and looked down at the sword. “She’s stronger than me. I thought if we sparred with weapons, I could defend better.”

Her brother scowled. “Fists hurt. She’d kill you with a wooden sword. Raise your fists. Remember every time she hits you.”

Shora grinned at him, bouncing off the balls of her feet. She was excited about it, and he was dreading it. She drifted towards him with little aggression. But even her light punches struck like a stone. He did his best to match her. He felt anchored to the ground, and she bounced towards and around him with ease.

Whenever he struck out, it seemed like she’d known what he was going to do before he even threw the punch. She would evade his angle of attack with a spring in her step. A quick punch would land somewhere he couldn’t defend. But he realized he wasn’t angry about it.

He could tell she was holding back during the whole bout. She grinned at him after each hit. And he got the sense she wasn’t mocking him, but trying to remind him it was friendly practice. By the end, he was more beat-up than he’d been in his life, and he hadn’t landed a single solid hit. But he was inspired. Training against a she-orc was like something out of a legend. He wasn’t about to give up because of bruises.

He raised his hands for another go, and Shora was suddenly beside him, raising a cut of ribs. Javad hadn’t even smelled the cooking. He’d been too focused on their spar. The ribs were so undercooked they might have been alive, but it was delicious. Over dinner, he taught her the simplest words. He focused on units of time and simple actions. He hoped to replace her brother as translator as soon as possible.

It occurred to him he’d never learned his name. He pointed to himself. “Javad.” He pointed to her. “Shora”. He pointed to her brother last.

Shora gobbled down her own ribs before she answered. “Uzgar”. She said. Her dark-skinned brother turned around at the mention of his name.

“Uzgar.” Confirmed Javad.

Shora nodded. “Uzgar”. Uzgar himself shook his head in annoyance and returned to sharpening his blade.

The sun was low in the sky as they finished dinner. His body and mind were both tired. Teaching Shora the Qismat language made him weary as well. In a different way than getting beat up. He faced the setting sun and turned to Shora. “Goodbye.”

“Good. Bye.” she said back, raising five fingers once again with a hopeful smile. Javad shook his head and raised ten fingers. She glared at him fiercely, slamming the door to her longhouse.

Javad tried to beat the setting sun home, but his bruised muscles didn’t enjoy getting pushed. He returned home to his father’s questioning glance at his multitude of bruises. Ayazir shook his head. “If you’re going to keep losing, you should stop trying to fight.”

Javad bowed respectfully to his father. He didn’t feel like getting the cane against his back today. It would hurt worse against his existing bruises. “I will try, father. But at least you’ll be able to say your son isn’t a coward.”

“Hmph.” said his father. “The less I talk about you, the better.”

Normally, such callous words would drive him into a spiral of depression. But it reinforced that the path he’d begun was the right choice. He had only to endure Shora’s harsh training and become a legend or die trying. Giving up would mean remaining the weakest child of a poor family.

Curiously enough, though her blows were unforgiving, her presence was calming. She was a strange creature. He knew she was holding back her strength, probably by a lot.

He strengthened his resolve and worked hard over the next ten days. He’d been crushed by Shora with little effort on her part. Javad put himself through his own training regimen to prepare for their bout. Weights, bodyweight exercises, and miles of running were most of his free time.

He found out a little more about his little mentor’s race in the meantime, from Kadir. The old soldier was happy to tell him stories of the first victorious battles of the war. His tone changed when he talked about the long siege of the mountain that followed. He’d lost many friends in the depths of that mountain. On one occasion, his platoon had been caught in a collapsing tunnel. Kadir was one of the few to stumble back out of the mountain through the dark and the dust.

Javad felt much more prepared the next time he crossed the border into orcish territory. That was fortunate for him. Shora was indeed about the age where her growth had sped up. She’d gained an inch on him in ten days. He faced an uphill battle to keep up with her. Her size and reach were now greater than his and always would be. He couldn’t afford to be outclassed in strength and speed as well.

But thanks to his efforts, he matched her in speed, if not strength. She was excited to see it, even if she dropped him to the dirt repeatedly. And before the end, he landed a solid hit. Of course, she only grinned at him. But he’d felt the feedback through his fist after the body blow, and that was enough. He’d remember how that little success felt over the next ten days.