The late afternoon sky had turned orange as Bima descended the small hill behind the village. On his back hung a woven basket, now empty except for some leftover food and a cloth. His breath was a little heavy, but his eyes remained sharp and full of determination. He had spent the whole day training in the small forest above—repeating movements, building stamina, and imagining himself as a true soldier.
Once he reached the hut, Bima immediately took off his straw sandals and placed the basket in the corner. Without saying much, he grabbed a small bucket and went to bathe at the well out back. The cold water refreshed his tired body. He planned to cook some sweet potatoes and cassava leaves tonight. But just as he was about to light the fire, he heard Pak Tanu calling from inside the house.
"Bim, no need to cook. Come here, I've already made dinner," called Pak Tanu.
Bima turned and smiled. "Really, Pak? That's early for you!"
He stepped inside, and the aroma of warm rice and vegetable stew greeted him. Two plates were already set on the mat, along with glasses of water. They sat cross-legged, and without much fuss, began to eat together.
"Eat up. You're skinny, yet you train like a bull," Pak Tanu said with a chuckle.
Bima laughed. "If I don't train, I'll lose to the enemy."
They ate while sharing jokes, talking about funny things that happened in the village, like the neighbor's chicken that always wandered into the garden, and even mimicked the village chief's peculiar way of talking. A warm, peaceful atmosphere filled the simple hut. Bima felt at ease—as if time slowed down during moments like this.
But after the meal, just as Bima was about to clean up the dishes, Pak Tanu stopped him.
"Bim…" he said softly.
Bima turned. Pak Tanu was sitting cross-legged, holding a worn piece of paper he had just pulled from a cloth pouch.
"I went to the village hall today. They put this up again," he said, handing the paper to Bima.
Bima took the poster. A large image of a sword and shield was printed at the top, with bold letters reading: "Royal Army Recruitment – Open to All." The date and location of registration were listed below. His heart immediately raced.
Pak Tanu looked at him for a moment before speaking gently.
"I know you've probably seen this already. But I just wanted to say one thing… Don't worry about me."
Bima fell silent.
"You've always wanted to be a soldier, haven't you? You've worked hard, trained every day—more than most adults. Now the opportunity is here. Don't let it go to waste."
"But… you'll be alone here…" Bima replied softly.
"I'm not a child, Bim. I've lived alone before. And besides… my heart will always be at peace knowing you're living your dream." Pak Tanu smiled.
But that smile quickly faded into a heavy silence.
Bima looked down, gripping the poster tightly. His chest felt tight. He wanted to go—but he also wanted to stay. This place was home.
Suddenly, Pak Tanu moved closer and pulled Bima into a hug.
"You're a strong boy, Bim. But remember… being strong doesn't mean you can't cry," Pak Tanu whispered.
Slowly, tears welled up in Bima's eyes and began to fall. He returned the hug tightly, as if not wanting the night to end.
But in that silence and warmth, his heart began to feel lighter. Like a fog slowly lifting. He knew—this was the moment. He had to move forward.
After a moment, Bima nodded.
"I'll go, Pak. I'll become a soldier… and one day, I'll come back… with pride."
Pak Tanu ruffled his hair with a wide smile, though his eyes glistened with tears.
And that night, under a sky full of stars, a boy from a quiet village made the decision to begin his journey