“Do you know what today is?”


    “No Chief Ebert,” I respond.


    “We’re not on any official business, you don’t have to be so formal,” Chief Alston reminds me.”


    “It’s just hard to turn off sometimes.”


    “I get it, I had the same problem,” he laughs. “About 10 years in I stopped caring. Most of us don’t live past 25 anyway.”


    “What’s today,” I bring the topic back around before he starts rambling again. If nobody keeps him on track, he’ll spend the entire day talking and nobody else will get a single word in.


    “Today is the 6 year anniversary of the day that we met.”


    “Oh, I didn’t realize,” I pretend to be surprised, but I remember it. I remember enough of it to know the story didn’t happen the way that he always tells it.


    “I remember it as if it were yesterday. Never had I seen a teen fight so hard. At least one that hadn’t been through any prior training. You must have had the strength of 10 men that day,” I don’t respond, I just let him reminisce. “The way your eyes looked that day still lingers in the chambers of my mind. You had such a fierce look in your eyes. I had to use iron shackles on one who still had the essence of adolescence. You had such vigor and determination that day. I knew you’d be a perfect fit as a corre if only it were aimed in the right direction.”


    “Seems like you made the right call,” I respond just to give him some satisfaction.


    We keep walking until we come by the usual spot. A lake that he likes to use for training, there’s nothing but rocks and shattered glass on this side. But he likes this spot for the other side. Children at the care facility can see him practicing martial arts. They think he’s fun to watch so they try to imitate his actions.


    The two of us start by warming up with a breathing exercise. Deep breaths, through the nose, exhaling slowly through the mouth. I don’t know what the purpose of this exercise is, but he insists it’s an important part of our warmup routine. Next, we move on to some stretches. He makes plenty of old man noises while he stretches. Sure, I feel some pops and it feels nice, but he’s enjoying it much more than I ever could.


    “Hey, why do we do this,” I ask as I bend forward and tuck my fingers beneath my toes.


    “What do you mean?”


    “The stretching, the breathing. I never do this when I’m training with the other corres.”


    “That’s because they’ve been given a vision of gaining glory, wealth and fame through battles. They only think of the battles, not what comes before or after. We start and end every session the same way because we know that glory through fighting, only leads to the destruction of oneself.”


    “That’s really poetic, but it sounds somewhat pointless.”


    “Well, look at it this way. They only see violence as the true answer. I know, and hopefully I’ve taught you, that violence doesn’t need to be the only option. We breathe because it helps to calm our nerves and helps us to make rational decisions. We stretch before and after practice to prepare our bodies and to relieve them.”


    Sometimes, Alston can say smart things, but more often than not his head is up his own ass while he attempts to make himself sound smarter. It works on others, but I’ve known him for six years and I’m closer to him than anyone else. I don’t mind calling his bluff either. Luckily, today is one of his smart days.


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    “We fight for a living, but that doesn’t mean we have no purpose for peace. Everyone needs to find something, somewhere or even someone that they can call their peace.”


    “What’s your peace?”


    “You,” Alston answers without hesitation.


    “Why me,” I answer just as fast. He’s never said anything like that to me, and for some reason I want to hear more.


    “I spent my youth running around, fighting, humping, some more fighting and more humping. At a certain point, most of my friends had died fighting. One died humping, but that’s another story. The others that were left started making families, hanging up their swords for the last time. I just kept fighting because I didn’t have anything I valued. That is until I found this 16 year old who tried to punch a hole through my chest. For some reason, that warmed my cold heart,” Alston starts to laugh.


    “That makes no sense,” I join in laughing with him.


    “No, it does. For a man who had been fighting his whole life, it really inspired me to see how hard you fought. I’ve probably seen thousands of men fight. It’s rare to see someone who wanted to fight so bad in circumstances they couldn’t overcome. I knew you had something special, and it would be wasted in a mine. At first, I just wanted to bring you up as one of our corres, but as I got to know you, and you stopped hating me, I thought more of you as a son. An inheritor of my will, more than another soldier.”


    “Well, thank you. You aren’t as bad as I thought when we first met.”


    “But I’m still pretty bad, that’s why it’s important for you to find your own peace as well.”


    “I’ll work on it.”


    “I think you already found your peace,” Alston smirks.


    “What did you mean by that?”


    “You spend a lot of time at that brothel. You’ve developed a reputation for it. That means you’re sweet on a lady down there. But, the fact that you’re never lacking in funds tells me, she’s sweet on you too.”


    “Woah,” I shout. “You’re jumping to conclusions. There’s nothing like that going on.”


    “There’s no shame in loving a sex worker. Thousands have seen The Oba’s wife dancing in the nude. A few hundred have taken her to bed.”


    “Can we change the subject? You’re getting a dirty mind in your old age. You’re thinking about brothels when you should be thinking about retirement.”


    “I’m thinking about that too. 67 is far too old to be working like a young man still. I’d like to retire to my home and plant a nice garden.”


    “What happens when a chief retires,” I’ve never seen any retire besides death.


    “Well, a chief with less seniority will take his spot. Young guy moves into the old guy’s spot. After that, a new chief gets selected. Usually there’s a multi-stage selection process. Sometimes more than one person is chosen. Just depends on how The Oba is feeling during the process. Sometimes there’s a second evaluation period. Really, it’s about what he’s feeling.”


    “Doesn’t sound like you’re a fan of the process.”


    “I think there are better ways to do it, but that isn’t my place. Instead of basing it just on fighting, we should look at brains and skills. A chief that can read is better than one that can’t. A chief that surveys the situation and formats a plan of attack or gathers intel beforehand is the better choice. But it’s often focused on just combat.”


    “I understand, what kind of traits do you think should be looked at?”


    “Ones you already have. You’re a hard worker. You study reports to learn more. It shows a dedication that most don’t have. You take care of your weapons, and you avoid unnecessary fights. I pulled you out of a house that looked like a strong wind could blow it over, but you’re less focused on riches than other corres. You’re a true representation of what corres should aim to be.”


    “Thank you,” the sincerity of his words catches me off guard. In the last six years, he’s been kind, but never this kind. The honesty he’s sharing this morning is somewhat unsettling.


    “When the time comes for me to hang it up, you should take the chance. You joined the program late, and you don’t have as much experience, but you have the skills.”


    “Aren’t chiefs typically from good families? Groomed since birth? I’m just an orphan.”


    “No, you’re my son, and that’s good enough.”


    “Son,” I repeat the word. It seems foreign to my tongue. “I don’t think you’ve ever called me that before.”


    “It felt right. I’ve wanted to for a long time, but wasn’t sure how you’d respond.”


    “I suppose I should call you father, or dad,” both words seem odd. Words I never had use for. Yet, in this moment I desire to color him father.


    “Only if you’re comfortable with it.”


    “Okay, well, let’s train father. No, dad. Dad seems more natural.”