Book 2: Chapter 7 – Intimacy

August finally rose from his stance after holding it for a full hour. With a brief shake of his legs and arms, he seemed completely unaffected – as if the gruelling exercise had been nothing more than a warm-up.

Jabari, on the other hand, was still on one knee, rubbing his aching thighs as he struggled to stand. His legs felt like they had been turned to stone, stiff and uncooperative.

"Let's go," August said, watching Jabari's failed attempts at standing. "Where's your accommodation?"

Jabari pointed weakly down the road. "Mine's the last one over there."

August's brows furrowed slightly, but he said nothing. Instead, he crouched, grabbed Jabari, and unceremoniously lifted him onto his shoulders.

"Wait, what-?" Jabari tensed in surprise. "I can walk!"

"You're too slow," August replied flatly, marching toward the cabin without another word.

Jabari could only sigh in helplessness. 'I have no say in this, do I?'

After a few moments of silence, he finally asked, "Why are we going back to my place?"

"You need to change into your uniform."

"Uniform?"

"The clothes in your wardrobe."

Jabari blinked. "I didn't know I was supposed to look in there."

August didn't bother replying, and seeing how little he was in the mood to talk, Jabari simply let himself be carried in silence.

Upon reaching the cabin, August dropped him onto the bed before striding toward the small wardrobe. Without hesitation, he pulled out a neatly folded set of clothes and tossed them onto the mattress beside Jabari.

Jabari picked them up and held them against the light. The uniform was nearly identical to what the Elders wore, but where theirs were black, this one was pure white, with intricate blue patterns woven into the fabric. The moment he touched it, his eyes widened in shock. The material was unlike anything he had ever felt – smooth, impossibly soft, and cool against his skin.

"This is mine?" he asked in disbelief.

"It was in your wardrobe," August replied, his tone as dry as ever.

Jabari didn't even notice the sarcasm – he was too busy running his fingers over the luxurious fabric.

The finest clothing he had ever worn before this was the tracksuits Heba had bought him. But compared to this…

Those might as well have been rags.

Just as he was about to slip the uniform on, August's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Shower first."

Jabari blinked, then let out a sheepish laugh. "Oh yeah." He scratched the back of his head, suddenly very aware of how much he had been sweating.

As he hobbled toward the bathroom, August tossed something in his direction. "Catch."

Jabari barely managed to react in time, snatching a pair of pristine white sandals from the air. They were simple but elegant, matching the rest of the uniform perfectly.

Because of the pain in his legs, even something as simple as washing up took him nearly half an hour. By the time he finished changing and stood before the mirror, he barely recognised himself.

The uniform fit like a second skin, snug yet unbelievably comfortable. Despite how well-fitted it was, it didn't restrict his movements in the slightest. In fact, if he weren't looking at himself in the mirror, he'd almost think he wasn't wearing anything at all.

He exhaled, running a hand down his chest. He looked like one of the rich kids he used to admire from a distance.

As soon as he stepped out of the bathroom, August didn't say a word. He simply scooped Jabari back onto his shoulders and carried him to his own quarters.

Jabari, exhausted from resisting at this point, just sighed. "Why didn't you just get changed before?"

"I didn't know if I'd have time," August replied, his voice as steady as ever.

Jabari frowned at the odd response, then narrowed his eyes slightly as realisation dawned.

'He knew.'

August had realised from the start that Jabari was being singled out. That the staff were punishing him for choosing Aziz as his mentor. And unlike him – who had the protection of his aunt, the Grand Elder – Jabari had no one.

So, August had prioritised ensuring Jabari turned up in uniform, even at the cost of his own preparation.

Jabari watched as August disappeared into the bathroom, a complicated look crossing his face.

"…Thank you," he said softly.

A grunt was the only response he received.

If this were a few months ago, Jabari would've truly seen August as a friend just from that alone. But after experiencing Oluwa's betrayal firsthand, trusting others wasn't so simple anymore.

Even so, he couldn't deny the sincere appreciation he felt at that moment.

In just under ten minutes, August emerged from the bathroom, now dressed identically to Jabari. His uniform, pristine white with elegant blue patterns, made him look even more imposing than usual.

Without so much as a word of warning, August lifted Jabari onto his shoulders once again.

"We have to skip breakfast, or we'll be late."

Jabari didn't complain. He was more than used to going days without food, so missing one meal barely registered as an inconvenience. But what did bother him was the unspoken truth – August was skipping breakfast because of him.

He didn't say sorry. Instead, he made a silent promise to repay him in the future.

'I'm starting to owe too many people.' A helpless smile flickered across his lips.

August carried him effortlessly across the institute grounds, making their way toward a massive open field where their classmates had already gathered.

As they approached, heads turned, whispers spread, and more than a few curious gazes locked onto them. Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, August finally set Jabari down.

Jabari exhaled slowly, pushing through the lingering soreness in his legs as he followed August to the front, where the other seeded students stood. Neither of them paid any mind to the attention they were receiving.

Of course, not everyone was content to stay silent.

"How has the class's famous two-time record holder managed to injure himself before the first day has even begun?"

The voice, laced with sarcasm, belonged to Chantelle Marley – one of the two female seeded students of their year group.

A few snickers rippled through the crowd at her remark.

Jabari, however, didn't react. He was far too preoccupied with his own thoughts, his mind still clouded by uncertainty over Aziz.

Seeing Jabari completely disregard her presence, as if she were utterly insignificant, Chantelle's expression darkened. A cold snort escaped her lips.

"You only broke those records a few days ago, and you already think you're above everyone else?"

This time, Jabari caught her words and turned, confusion flickering across his face. 'Where did that come from?'

Before he could respond, another voice cut in.

"Don't be so arrogant when Miss Chantelle of the Great Shura Tribe is speaking to you."

Jabari shifted his gaze toward the speaker.

Gichinga Omondi.

Jabari recognised him from the selection tests. The young master of the Omondi Tribe – one of the more powerful ordinary tribes in West Ulo. Gichinga had been impressive, earning 19 points in total. He was the highest-ranked non-seeded student, even surpassing three of the actual seeded ones. That had made him something of a celebrity among the first years.

But none of that mattered to Jabari.

The confusion in his expression melted into something far colder.

"And what are you supposed to be?" he asked, voice utterly indifferent. "Her guard dog?"

Gichinga's mouth opened, but no words came out. He hadn't expected such a direct retort.

Jabari tilted his head slightly, his next words sharper than a blade.

"If you want her to spread her legs for you, be a man and tell her. Don't go around barking at others just to impress her."

The field fell silent.

Chantelle's eyes widened, her face twisting in shock and fury.

Gichinga, momentarily stunned, clenched his fists, his face darkening with anger and humiliation.

Jabari didn't wait for a response. He had no interest in dragging this out any further.

Back in the slums, he had learned a simple rule – if you didn't stand up for yourself, you became an easy target. And that was something he could not afford to be. Not here.

The moment Gichinga processed Jabari's words, his face twisted in humiliation. His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring, and his entire body tensed with barely restrained fury. He wasn't the only one seething – Chantelle's expression had darkened, her pride wounded by Jabari's unfiltered remarks.

Gichinga took a step forward, his intent clear. His body coiled like a spring, as if he were preparing to strike-

But then August moved.

Effortlessly, he stepped between them, his stance unwavering, his presence alone enough to send an unspoken message.

A wave of silence washed over the gathered students. Even Jabari, who had been prepared for a confrontation, was caught off guard. August wasn't one to get involved with others, yet here he was, positioning himself firmly in Jabari's defence.

Gichinga hesitated, his fists tightening at his sides. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything-

"Settle down and take your places."

Kwame's voice rang across the field, cutting through the tension like a blade. The head invigilator from the trials strode in, leading a dozen other Deacons, all clad in identical uniforms. His sharp gaze swept over the students, lingering briefly on Jabari before he turned away, taking his position at the front alongside the other deacons.

A moment later, the Elders arrived.

Dressed in their flowing black robes, they entered the field in a disciplined line, their presence alone commanding respect. At their centre stood the Supreme Elder, his aura as imposing as ever.

Jabari's gaze, though, immediately locked onto Aziz.

The foreign mentor met his eyes and grinned playfully, an infuriating mix of amusement and intrigue dancing in his crimson irises causing Jabari to stiffen.

His chest tightened, but before he could dwell on it further, the Supreme Elder stepped forward.

"The Beast-Warrior Institute was formed almost a thousand years ago," he began, his deep voice carrying effortlessly across the field, "by the most powerful man in Ulo – Patriarch Darnell Campbell, also known as the Shura of Ulo."

The moment that name was spoken, a flicker of something odd stirred in Jabari's chest.

'Darnell Campbell…'

The name felt familiar. Too familiar.

Confusion settled over him like a heavy fog. He was certain he had never met anyone of such status, yet just thinking the name in his head brought forth an inexplicable sense of intimacy.

He tried to rationalise it. Maybe he had heard the name in passing, a common tale whispered in the slums. But no, it was more profound than that. It was as though the name itself held some personal connection to him – one he couldn't quite grasp.

He was still lost in thought when a voice, cold and cutting, yanked him back to reality.

"Jabari of the slums." The Supreme Elder's tone was laced with thinly veiled irritation. "Is my speech boring you?"

A heavy silence fell over the field. Dozens of unfriendly gazes locked onto Jabari – Deacons, students, and even several of the Elders. The air grew thick with unspoken judgment.

Aziz, however, merely continued to smile, looking more entertained than anything else.

Jabari tensed under the scrutiny but reacted swiftly. He lowered his head slightly in deference. "Of course not, Supreme Elder. I apologise for my behaviour."

The Supreme Elder snorted, clearly unimpressed, before continuing.

"Next, the ordinary students will be split into eight classes, each assigned to one of our Deacons. The seeded students will go with their respective mentors, who will explain in greater detail the plans for their next year."

His gaze shifted to one of the students. "Jamal, follow me."

"Yes, teacher!" Jamal responded, his excitement barely contained as he rushed to the Supreme Elder's side.

One by one, the other seeded students stepped forward, following their respective mentors.

Jabari remained frozen in place.

Aziz was still smiling at him, his expression unreadable. Jabari hesitated, his instincts warning him that following this man was something he should avoid.

Yet, before he could decide what to do, Aziz broke the silent standoff himself.

"We should probably get going as well."

His tone was light, almost teasing.

Jabari exhaled slowly, biting the bullet as he turned and walked toward his mentor. He could feel the weight of dozens of stares burning into his back – students, Deacons, all watching.

Kwame, standing alongside the other instructors, furrowed his brow. "Is it just me, or did Jabari seem hesitant?" he murmured.

Before Jason could reply, another Deacon scoffed. The same one who had "escorted" Jabari to his room.

"Of course he's hesitant. He's finally realised what a colossal mistake he made, throwing away his chance to train under the Supreme Elder." His voice dripped with disdain.

Jason placed a hand on Kwame's shoulder, offering a small shake of his head. "There's nothing you can do at this point. Even if he did want to re-pick his mentor, the decision has been made."

Kwame exhaled, his shoulders slumping slightly. "You're probably right."

Still, as he watched Jabari's figure disappear into the distance, a nagging feeling of unease settled in his chest.

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