The air was thick with the hum of anticipation and adolescent energy, the sun casting long shadows across the schoolyard as a semi-circle of teenagers watched intently. In the center of the makeshift arena stood Tadeusz and Leon Rotman, each gripping a wooden sword. Their youthful faces were etched with a mixture of determination and nervous energy. For Tadeusz, the stakes felt impossibly high. This wasn’t just a duel — it was a fight for the coveted lead role in the year end spectacle.

Sweat beaded on Tadeusz’s brow as the duel wore on, his chest heaving with each breath. Leon pressed the advantage. For a skinny boy now he seemed strong or was it just adrenaline? His strikes relentless yet measured, until with a deft maneuver, he disarmed Tadeusz. The wooden sword clattered to the ground, echoing briefly in the quiet that followed. Tadeusz stood motionless for a moment, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his chest rising and falling as he fought to steady his breath. The crowd began to disperse after congratulating Leon on his victory but their excitement was slowly fading into the chatter of everyday conversation, leaving the defeated boy standing alone.

You stepped forward, your footsteps muffled by the soft earth, and approached Tadeusz. His face was turned away, but you could see the faint sheen of sweat on his temple, the subtle quiver of his jaw as he clenched and unclenched it. You said nothing, respecting the fragile quiet that hung between you. Instead, you reached out, your fingers brushing against the fabric of his uniform. The small, golden eagle pinned to his chest had been knocked askew during the duel. With deliberate care, you adjusted it, straightening its position.

Tadeusz’s breathing steadied as you worked, and for a moment, his eyes flickered toward you. There was gratitude in his gaze, unspoken but deeply felt. His lips parted as if to say something, but he seemed to think better of it, and the silence between you deepened into something comfortable, almost sacred.