I Never Meant to Fight, Yet Somehow I Became a King

The sky over East Africa looked like a dull mirror left too long under the sun. The horizon wavered faintly, as if the air itself were burning. The jeep I rode in crawled over dry ground, its tires grinding the dust that danced like brown mist. From the passenger seat, I could see far ahead,nothing but rocks, dead grass, and a road that seemed to lead to the end of the world. The engine droned in a low, steady hum. I liked that sound. It was constant. Unchanging. Not like people. On my lap rested a black case, almost the length of my leg. It wasn’t heavy, yet it felt as though I carried my entire past inside it. On its surface gleamed a small emblem, two silver cranes facing each other beneath a rising sun. The crest of the Shouda family. I brushed my thumb over it. The metal was cold. Father, I murmured inwardly, I kept my promise. The katana is coming home today. The jeep jolted as a wheel struck a large stone. I didn’t move. Old soldier reflexes still worked—head steady, body balanced. Little shakes like that weren’t enough to throw me off. Outside the window, the desert stretched like a dead sea. Sometimes I think war has many faces. Some scream. Some stay silent. The silent ones are crueler. My eyes flicked to the digital map on the dashboard. A red dot pulsed over Old Shouda Base. Only a few kilometers left. It was a medical organization’s facility now. But once… it was my home. I took a slow breath. Hot, dusty air filled my lungs, but the pressure inside my chest was worse. Ten years already, I thought. Time passes quickly when you stop counting. I stopped counting the day they disappeared. A sudden gust blew up, slapping a cloud of sand against the windshield. The jeep wobbled. Alex, the driver, cursed softly and tightened his grip on the wheel. I didn’t react. My eyes stayed locked on a distant hill. Through the thin haze of clouds, I saw a dark rise of stone, a cave mouth. That cave. Where my parents were last seen. I closed my eyes for a brief moment. Silence. The jeep’s rumble, the hiss of the wind, my heartbeat, all of it beating to the same rhythm. Then Alex spoke. “So,” he said, eyes fixed on the winding path ahead, “that’s your father’s katana, huh?” I didn’t answer right away. It took a few seconds for the word to leave my mouth. “Yeah.” He gave a short whistle. “Cool. You said your dad used to be JSDF, right? Descendant of samurai too, if I remember?” I glanced at him. “Something like that.” Alex chuckled, slapping the steering wheel lightly. “If you ever sold it, that thing’d be worth a fortune. Old swords like that, collectors would kill for one.” I turned my gaze on him. My tone stayed flat, but my eyes were sharp. “Did you just call it old junk?” He shrugged, not catching the warning in my voice. “Well, I mean, antiques are—” I cut in softly. “Do I need to slice your neck open to prove this sword isn’t junk?” A brief silence. Then Alex burst out laughing loud, unrestrained laughter bouncing around the cabin. “Ha! Man, you’re too serious! I was kidding, bro!” I didn’t laugh. But after a moment, the corner of my mouth lifted just slightly. “You’ve got a dangerous sense of humor, Alex.” He grinned back. “And you’re a soldier who doesn’t know how to relax.” “Humor,” I said evenly, “is a soldier’s last weapon when he’s out of ammo.” Alex paused, then chuckled quietly. “You know, sometimes I can’t tell if you’re joking or threatening me.” “If you can’t tell,” I replied, “that means I’m still alive.” He laughed again, though softer this time. The air in the jeep lightened for a while. We drove on, climbing through the lowlands. The color of the earth shifted, from pale brown to rust red. Like a scar on the skin of the world. Alex exhaled, voice low. “You and that sword… it’s like you two can’t let go of each other.” I didn’t answer. In the windshield’s reflection, my own face stared back—blurred eyes, messy black hair, fine lines under them. The look of someone who’d forgotten how to stop walking. Alex slowed the jeep a little, his tone gentler, almost to himself. “I’ve been on missions all over. But I rarely see someone look at their past the way you do. Like it’s still alive.” I glanced at him. “It is alive.” He frowned. “What do you mean?” “If it weren’t,” I said quietly, “why does it keep chasing me?” Alex didn’t speak after that. The jeep rolled on in silence, the sound of sand rushing beneath the tires filling the void. And in my heart, I whispered—whether to myself or to the sword on my lap, I couldn’t tell: Almost there, Father. Sorry I haven’t come by lately. The jeep slowed, then stopped right in front of a rusted metal gate. The faded sign above it was barely legible, yet I could still make out the words: Shouda Humanitarian Medical Outpost. I stared at the sign for a long moment. Half the letters were gone, but the outline still spelled out my family name. A name that once meant hope. Now it felt more like an epitaph. Alex shifted gears and looked over at me. “This the place?” I nodded slightly. “Yeah.” He gave a short whistle. “Still standing, huh? Thought the whole thing got leveled when the conflict broke out.” “No. They’ve been maintaining it.” I opened the door. The hinges creaked, and a wave of dry heat struck my face. The air outside was even harsher than I expected. Dust rose with every step I took. I set down my case and backpack, then shut the door with a sharp metallic click that echoed through the still air. Alex rolled down his window. “When you’re done, give me a call. I’ll be waiting at the east post.” I looked at him for a second, then smiled faintly. “Got it. Thanks, Alex.” “Don’t take too long,” he said, starting the engine again. “If you vanish, I’m not volunteering for a search mission.” “If I die here,” I replied flatly, “don’t bother looking.” Alex paused, then broke into laughter. “Man, you’re messed up.” He gave me a thumbs-up and stepped on the gas. The jeep rolled away, leaving a trail of dust that swirled briefly before disappearing into the heat haze. I stood there, facing the building. Still solid. Gray concrete walls, patched in places with fresh red bricks. The iron door had been replaced with a thick wooden one. A water tower stood behind it, and the faded white flag of the medical organization fluttered from the roof. The red cross on it was barely visible now, like an old scar. A few people in medical uniforms moved busily across the yard. Some carried supply crates, others pumped water, while a few sat under a tent, writing reports. They all looked busy, but one or two gave me quick glances—curious, cautious—before returning to their work. I walked slowly toward the main building. Each step felt like tapping on something long buried. The sound of my boots against the stone—tok, tok, tok—echoed too loudly in my ears. I stopped beneath a large window. My mother used to wave to me from here whenever I came back from training with my grandfather. Now, behind the glass, I saw rows of medicine bottles and medical tools. Our family’s living room had become a small clinic. I raised a hand and touched the window frame. Beneath the new coat of paint, I could still feel the roughness of the old one. “Father, Mother... this place is still alive,” I whispered. “Only the place, though.” I turned toward the hill behind the house. The cave was up there. From here, I could see the faint shadow of its mouth etched into the stone. A chill spread through my chest. For some reason, every time I looked at that place, breathing became harder. I drew in a long breath, then walked toward the main door. The handle was new, but the frame hadn’t changed. I pressed down on the latch. From inside came the sound of quick footsteps and a woman’s voice calling to someone. Then the door opened slightly, letting a soft light fall across my face. I looked inside. A middle-aged woman stood at the threshold, silver hair tied back, a white doctor’s coat slightly frayed at the edges. Her eyes searched mine, then widened with recognition. A small, almost disbelieving smile appeared on her lips. “Rai... Shouda?” she said slowly, as if unsure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. “Goodness... you’ve grown so much.” That voice. Gentle, familiar. For a moment, the air around me felt lighter. I bowed my head a little. “Good afternoon, Doctor Ele.”