For the last three months, Jaka's life had been consumed by the relentless pursuit of strength. Each morning, before the first light of dawn touched the horizon, he would rise from his bed and set out into the wilderness surrounding the village.
His routine had become mechanical, an endless cycle of training that left no room for rest. From practicing with his sword to running through the dense forest, every movement was a calculated effort to prepare for a journey he couldn't yet explain to anyone, not even to Laksita.
Every day, his body grew stronger, the muscles in his arms and legs more defined, his endurance sharper. But with each passing day, the exhaustion built up, pressing down on him like a heavy stone. His body screamed for rest, but his resolve never wavered. He had to become stronger. He had to be ready.
The journey ahead was something he couldn't yet share with anyone—not even the girl who had always stood by him.
His parents, though they didn't know the full extent of Jaka's struggles, could see the toll his training was taking on him. His father, a quiet man of few words, often watched from the corner of his eye as Jaka returned home late, his body dripping with sweat, his face drawn and pale. His mother, a gentle soul, would sigh every time she saw her son stumble through the door, barely able to keep his eyes open.
"Jaka..." his mother's voice was soft, filled with concern. "You need to rest. You've been pushing yourself too hard."
But Jaka would only shake his head, a determined look on his face. "I can't afford to rest. I need to be ready."
His father remained silent, his eyes heavy with worry. He said nothing, but the unease in his gaze was enough to make Jaka feel the weight of their concern.
As the weeks passed, the toll on Jaka's body became more apparent. His limbs felt like dead weight at the end of each day, and his once sharp focus began to wane. But still, he couldn't stop. He couldn't explain why to his parents, why he had to push himself this far. He couldn't risk anyone finding out.
No one knew the true reason behind his frantic training, not even Laksita. He had told her nothing of the secret mission he had been preparing for—no one could know.
The truth was too dangerous, and if Laksita ever learned why he was preparing himself for something so great, so perilous, she would have too many questions. He couldn't let that happen. He had to keep it all inside, even as it ate away at him.
It wasn't until the third month of his training that Jaka's body finally gave in.
After another long day of exhausting drills, he collapsed from sheer exhaustion in the middle of the forest. His muscles had become weak from overuse, and his mind, too, had grown foggy. He had pushed himself to the brink, and now his body was paying the price.
Jaka had always been resilient, but even the strongest willpower couldn't overcome the limits of the human body. His arms trembled as he tried to rise, but his legs buckled beneath him, sending him crashing to the ground. His breath came in ragged gasps, his heart pounding in his chest. The world around him seemed to spin as he struggled to hold onto consciousness.
He tried to stand again, but his body refused to cooperate. His vision blurred, and for a moment, everything around him faded into a dull haze. He needed to rest. He knew that. But his stubborn pride wouldn't let him admit it. Not when he was so close. Not when he was preparing for something far bigger than anything he could explain.
And then, out of nowhere, a soft voice cut through the haze.
"Jaka..."
Laksita's voice. He blinked, his eyes struggling to focus, and there she was, kneeling beside him, concern written all over her face. Her hands hovered over him, as if unsure whether to touch him or not.
"What... what are you doing here?" Jaka rasped, his voice barely a whisper.
Laksita's brow furrowed. "I should be asking you that. You've been pushing yourself too hard. You're... you're going to break if you keep going like this."
Jaka tried to sit up, but his body wouldn't cooperate. He was too weak. His hands trembled as he reached for the ground to steady himself, but Laksita was already there, gently pulling him back down. "You need to rest. Just for a moment," she said, her voice gentle but firm.
"I'm fine," Jaka insisted, though the words felt hollow even to him. "I just... I need to keep going. I need to get stronger. I have to prepare. You don't understand—"
"Then tell me," Laksita interrupted, her tone softer now, almost pleading. "Tell me what's going on, Jaka. You've been training every day, pushing yourself beyond your limits, and you won't let anyone in. What are you preparing for?"
Jaka opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He couldn't tell her the truth. He couldn't risk it.
Instead, he forced a smile, though it felt like the most painful thing he had ever done. "It's nothing. Just... preparation. For a journey, maybe. To see the world. I've always wanted to go on an adventure, to learn more about what's out there."
Laksita blinked, her eyes narrowing as if she didn't fully believe him. But she didn't press the matter. Instead, she sat down beside him, her gaze softening. "A journey..."
Jaka looked at her, trying to gauge her reaction. He hated lying to her, but he had no choice. "Yes. And I need to be strong for it. It's not something I can take lightly."
Laksita's heart sank at his words. The thought of Jaka leaving the village, leaving her behind, was more painful than she cared to admit. She had always known Jaka was destined for something greater than their small village. But the idea of losing him, of being left behind while he ventured into the unknown, tore at her heart.
"But... what if you don't have to leave?" Laksita's voice trembled as she spoke.
Jaka looked at her, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"
Laksita hesitated for a moment, then spoke, her voice quiet but filled with conviction. "I don't have a dream, Jaka. Not really. But... I always thought, maybe, I could be a scholar. I could learn about the world, tell stories, just like you've told me all those tales. Maybe... maybe I could help others learn, too."
Jaka blinked, surprised by her words. He had never heard Laksita speak of such things before. A scholar. He could see it now—the quiet ambition in her eyes, the spark of curiosity that had always been there, hidden beneath the surface.
"Laksita..." Jaka said, his voice softer now, filled with warmth. "If you want to be a scholar, you can. You don't need to go far to learn. The world is full of teachers, and nature itself is the best one. Maybe... maybe we could travel together. You could learn from the world, and I could learn from you."
Laksita's heart fluttered at his words. Travel with Jaka? Could it really be possible? If she became a scholar, maybe she wouldn't have to lose him. Maybe they wouldn't have to be separated after all.
"Do you think...
we could really do that?" Laksita asked, her voice trembling with hope.
Jaka nodded, a soft smile curling on his lips. "I do. If you want to, we can. I've always wanted to see the world, and if you want to learn, there's no better way than to experience it."
She smiled, and for a moment, the heaviness between them lifted. But then, her gaze flicked down to the bundle of cloth beside her—a small lunchbox wrapped with care.
"Speaking of learning," Laksita said, a bit shyly, "I've been learning something else, too."
Jaka tilted his head. "Oh?"
She unwrapped the cloth to reveal a simple but fragrant packed meal—steamed rice, stir-fried vegetables, and small grilled fish wrapped in banana leaf. "I've been practicing cooking," she said. "And… I may have been leaving this for you."
Jaka's eyes widened as realization hit him. "Wait—that was from you? I thought my mom or dad was sneaking food into my bag every morning."
Laksita gave a sheepish smile. "Thay asked me. I'd wait until you left for training and then slip it in your bag while you were out in the woods."
Jaka stared at the food, then at her, and let out a short laugh. "That explains why it started tasting better. For a while, I thought my mom had taken some cooking lessons!"
She chuckled. "So... you liked it?"
"I liked it too much," he said with a grin. "I was starting to think the forest was making me hallucinate gourmet meals. Honestly, Laksita, your cooking's gotten really good. Who knew all those burnt catfishes in the past would lead to this?"
Laksita huffed playfully, nudging him. "Hey! That was one time—and you still ate it."
"I was being polite," Jaka said dramatically, clutching his chest. "But now… now this? This is the best quality, ever, period. I might marry you just for foods."
Laksita flushed, smacking his shoulder lightly. "Shut up!"
He laughed harder—but immediately winced, grabbing his side. "Ow, ow—okay, that's what I get for joking."
"Are you okay?" she asked, alarmed.
Jaka tried to straighten up, but the pain in his ribs from overtraining flared again. "Yeah… just... maybe not laughing so hard when your body feels like it's been trampled by a buffalo."
Laksita helped ease him down gently. "You've really pushed yourself too far, Jaka."
"I know," he admitted, his voice quiet now, pained. "But I couldn't stop. I didn't know how to."
"You don't have to do everything alone," she said softly. "Even if you don't want to tell me everything yet… let me help you. Even if it's just with food, or bringing you water, or just... sitting beside you."
He looked at her, something tender and grateful in his eyes. "That might be what's kept me going," he murmured. "Even if I didn't know it."
And so, they continued—he, with his training; she, with her studies and her quiet support. The path ahead was uncertain, filled with mystery and danger. But in that moment, with shared laughter and a simple meal under the trees, it felt like something good was growing between them. Something worth holding onto.
They would prepare. Together.