THE EMPTY SEAT

After the burial, Mungu stood alone at the edge of his mother’s grave, the next day the wind whispered through the trees, a mournful sigh that seemed to echo his own unspoken words. He felt like he was drowning in the silence, unable to express the turmoil that churned within him. Yesterday, the world had been a blur of grief and condolences, but now, in the stillness, the weight of it all threatened to consume him. Mungu's eyes were dry, but his heart felt like it was bleeding. Just as the wind began to carry away his tears, a gentle voice broke the silence. "Mungu, it's okay." He turned to see Farida, her eyes filled with compassion, walking towards him with a quiet determination. She reached his side and wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders. "I hear they called you 'Willpower ...ehhhh" she said. "Yes...mama is the one who gave it to me from 'The Bull' to 'Willpower'." Mungu said "She gave it you for a reason, Mungu," she said softly. "You have be strong now." Mungu managed a weak smile, feeling a glimmer of gratitude. Farida had always been more than just a friend – she was a steady presence in his life. "Hey... By the way, I hear you are in the semifinals?" she asked, nodding towards the grave. "I know your mom would want you to keep pushing, especially with the semifinals coming up next week." Mungu's eyes lit up, despite himself. "I have a good chance, Farida. I just need to keep my heads in the fight." Farida's smile was a balm to his soul. "I know you will. You'll make it happen, Mungu. Just remember, you're not alone. Let our gods be with you, wherever you go as you travel back to morocco." Together, they stood there, the wind dying down, the silence no longer oppressive. Mungu felt a sense of resolve forming within him, a determination to honor his mother's memory and make her proud.

Back in Morocco, The crowd buzzed with anticipation as Mungu, the kickboxing, stepped up to the podium two days to the semifinals. The moderator, a well-known sports journalist, welcomed everyone to the pre-finals press conference. Mungu, donning a confident smile, took his seat, his eyes scanning the sea of reporters and cameras. The moderator began, "Willpower, thanks for joining us today. I know you've had a tough few weeks. My condolences on the loss of your mother." Mungu's expression softened and he nodded. "Thanks for having me. Yeah, it's been tough, but I'm using my mother's strength and memory to drive me forward. She was my biggest supporter, and I know she'd want me to keep pushing." The room fell silent as Mungu spoke about his mother, his voice cracking with emotion, "She'll be with me every step of the way. I'll dedicate this fight to her, and every punch, every kick...it's all for her." A reporter from CNN spoke up, "Willpower how's your preparation for the semi-finals going? Has the loss affected your training?" Mungu leaned forward, his voice steady. "Actually, it has helped me focus even more on the task at hand. I'm hungry, and I'm ready to put on a show." The room erupted into a frenzy of questions, but Mungu handled each one with ease. When ESPN asked about the pressure of his 25 consecutive wins under Youssef, Mungu chuckled, "Pressure? Nah, I love it! Twenty-five wins and counting, baby!" As the questions continued, Mungu's passion and dedication to the sport shone through. When a local sports reporter asked about his strategy for the semi-finals, Mungu's eyes narrowed, "My strategy's simple: bring my A-game, respect my opponent, and 13 execute. I've been training hard, and my team's got me prepared for whatever comes next." The press conference drew to a close, with Mungu leaving the room on a high note, "I'm not predicting; I'm stating: I'm winning those semi-finals. Let's do this!" The crowd erupted into cheers as Mungu walked out, his head held high, ready to take on the challenge coming then headed back to Seasons Beach Resort to rest for the Semifinals, He Opened his door room, As he reached inside , he noticed something on the floor. An envelope, pushed under his door, caught his eye. He picked it up, his heart racing as he read the letter inside. The words hit him like a punch to the gut: “Lose the Semifinals on Sunday, or you'll regret it for the rest of your life. And it's not just you; we'll get to the people around you. Just morn for your mother only" Mungu's eyes widened as he scanned the room, feeling a chill run down his spine. Who could have written this? And why do they want him lose? He thought of his people back in Uganda, his friend Youssef, his coach. Clenched his fists “I’m not afraid of anything,” he thought. The match day arrived; Mungu was ready to face his opponent in any case, "Are you ready for the game?" Coach Adam asked to check on his player inside the dressing room, "I was born ready... I have something of to show you." As Mungu was trying get out the letter and give it to Adam, he stop him "You will show it to me after the game we don't have time" said Adam. Inside the arena it was dimly lighted, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement, the crowd shouted for a show. The ring was illuminated under the spotlight, and the unmistakable sound of boxing gloves hitting heavy bags echoed in the background. Two commentators, Benjelloun El Mark and Olayo Benita, sit in the booth overlooking the action. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to this electrifying semi-final match between two phenomenal Fighters, Jacky and Willpower! I am El Mars and alongside me is a fabulous lady, Nita. Hi Nita say something to the audience" El Mars welcomed the audience with a lot of excitement and he turned to Nita. "Hello Mars am happy to come again and witness these two fighters in the ring again." Nita replied "wow lucky you, for me it’s my first time.. Ok tell us about these fighters." El Mars asked. The audience went silent to hear what Nita is going to say, “OK first I don't have a lot to say but they are good fighters" Nita said. "Eeeh that’s already enough. Did you know atmosphere here is absolutely electric, Nita!" El mars said. "Just know I can feel it." Nita replied. "I've been analyzing their past fights, and I think their physical attributes will play a huge role in this match," El Mars said, with a lot excitement. Nita turned to El Mas, intrigued. "Anha dive right in, then." El Mars pulled out her phone. "Well, you know, Jacky has been a force to be reckoned with in this sport. Only three losses in his entire career—it’s almost unheard of! And he’s proven time and again that he can take a hit and come back swinging." Nita nodded thoughtfully, her mind racing with possibilities "Absolutely, but you can’t overlook Willpower. He’s on an incredible 25-fight winning streak! Since he began training under Youssef, he’s transformed into a powerhouse. It’s remarkable!" Nita said. “And what about Jacky’s movements? His footwork is like poetry in motion. He can evade punches and counterattack in the blink of an eye. He has this uncanny ability to read his opponent like a book!" El mars said "Yes! His signature move is that spinning back kick—it’s a thing of beauty when he executes it. Last stage, he knocked out his opponent with that very kick! Willpower will have to be on guard for that one tonight. “Nita added on. "On the flip side, Willpower relies on his sheer speed and agility. He’s quick on his feet, always dancing around his opponents. It’s almost like he’s always one step ahead." Said El Mars " And that timing! He can land a perfectly timed uppercut that sends opponents sprawling. I’m really curious to see how Jacky will deal with Willpower’s speed tonight." Nita grinned mischievously. "It’s going to be a 14 battle of strategy for sure! Both of them have something to prove—Jacky wants to maintain his status as a champion, while Willpowers is fighting not just for victory, but as a tribute to his mother." Nita added on. " I don’t know about you, Nita, but I’m on the edge of my seat here! Who do you think has the edge going into this fight?" El Mars asked "It’s hard to say! If Jacky can stay composed and avoid those quick jabs, he might have the upper hand with his experience. But if Willpower can use his speed and emotional strength to overwhelm Jacky, he might just pull this off." Nita responded. "Well, my bet is on a nail-biting finish. Either way, it’s going to be a clash of titans—bravery versus experience. Spectators, as the fighters enter the ring, we’re just moments away from finding out who will reach the finals. The question remains: who will emerge victorious, Jacky or Willpower? The crowd erupts as the fighters step into the spotlight, ready to battle for their chance at glory. Willpower stood in the center of the ring with Jacky, a palpable energy thrumming through the crowd. The bell was rang and the fight began. First round into the fight, Mungu had surprised everyone, including himself. His fists danced like the wind, quick and precise, as he landed blows that rattled his opponent, Jacky a notorious fighter known for his ruthlessness. The cheers roared like thunder, igniting a fire within him. But shadows loomed behind the scenes, the unknown people who had threatened him when his mother was sick at the hospital one day and sent him the letter were growing desperate. Their boss, a figure shrouded in darkness, watched the fight with simmering rage. "This kid thinks he can take us down?" he seethed, his voice low and cold. A sinister plan formed in his mind, and he dispatched one of his men to be in Mungu’s ringside team. Second round starts Mungu doesn’t allow his opponent to collect points from him, the bell was rung for the break. This man leaned casually against the blockade and found way into Mungu’s team, but his eyes bore into Mungu with a predatory focus. He slipped drugs into Mungu’s buckets at ringside, unseen amidst the chaos and cheers. The bell rang, signaling the end of the second round. Mungu, stumbled back to his corner to get some notes on how to finish the next round, coach Adam waiting with a bucket with drugs and a towel. "Alright, Mungu, listen up!" Adam shouted, as he handed Mungu the bucket. "You're doing great, but you need to finish strong." Mungu nodded, panting, as he grabbed the sponge and began to cool down. "What's the plan, coach?" he asked, his eyes burning with determination no matter what those men and the letter say. Adam's eyes narrowed. "We need to break his rhythm. He's been using that jab to keep you at bay, so I want you to take a risk. Feint a jab, then go for the body shot. He's weak there." Mungu nodded his mind racing with the strategy. He took a swig of water, feeling a surge of energy course through his veins. "And don't forget to move, keep dancing," Adam continued. "You're quicker than him, use it. Finish this in the next round, Mungu!" Mungu grinned, his eyes flashing with confidence. "I'm gonna knock him out, coach," he growled, as he handed the bucket back to Adam. Adam smiled, a fierce glinon his face. "That's the attitude! Let's go!" he shouted, as he patted Mungu on the back. The bell rang, signaling the start of the third round. Mungu took a deep breath, his eyes locked on his opponent, and charged forward, ready to give it his all. As he was leaving his corner a voice sliced through the tense air. “You take the blame for your mother's death.” He glanced back towards his corner, but the man who whispered such venom was gone. words echoed cruelly in his mind. Dismissing the taunt, he focused on the fight, but doubt crept in like a shadow. “ if I accepted these people's offer she would be alive?” The thought gnawed at him. Suddenly anxiety bubbled inside him, he felt a strange sensation wash over him. His vision blurred, and his movements slowed. 15 Then, in the chaotic crowd, he saw his mother’s image, her eyes filled with accusation. "Mungu, why did you let me die?" she whispered, her voice echoing in his mind. "You were supposed to protect me, but you failed." Mungu shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. "What’s happening? Why am I seeing my mother? She is dead, gone." he tried to prevent it, but the illusion persisted, haunting him. His mother's face twisted in anger, her eyes blaming him for her death. "You could have saved me, Mungu," she said, her voice growing louder. "But you were too busy fighting to be champion not for me. It's your fault I'm gone." Mungu stumbled, his balance wavering like a candle in the wind. The crowd was shouting, Adam trying to intervene, but he couldn't hear them. All he could see was his mother's face, accusing him, blaming him. He lashed out, his fists flying wildly, trying to silence the voices in his head. But it was no use as if the world was tilted. The visions consumed him, and he knew he was lost. He stumbled, trying to shake off the feeling, but it was too late. He was trapped in a living nightmare, haunted by the ghost of his mother, and the weight of his own guilt, The fight he fought became an uphill battle, and his dreams began to slip away, like sand through his fingers. Before he could regroup, Jacky, a fierce rival, surged from behind and landed a series of quick jabs, sending Mungu crashing to the canvas. The referee’s count began, each number ringing like a bell in a foggy landscape. “One… Two… Three... Four... Five... Six... Seven... ” Mungu struggled, his body unresponsive. “Eight... Nine... Ten…” As the final count fell, darkness threatened to swallow him whole. The fight was over; Mungu lay there in tears, lost and defeated, while the echoes of taunts and memories swirled in his mind. Youssef stood over him, fury in his eyes. "What... Just... Happened... Tell Me?" Youssef seethed. "You got beaten by that nobody, just few jabs you are down! Do you know how this looks? Do you know how much money we lost tonight?" Mungu didn't respond, his shoulders shaking with sobs. The sound of the crowd's jeers still echoed in his mind, a painful reminder of his loss. Adam stepped forward, his voice calm. "Youssef, back off. Can't you see he's down?" But Youssef was relentless. "Down? He's not down, he's a loser! He gets paid to win, not cry like a baby!" Adam's expression was firm. "I saw the letter in his bag, Youssef. He was threatened by unknown people trying to save us. That's why he lost the match." Youssef’s expression changed, taken aback. "What...what letter?" he stammered. Adam's voice was firm. "It doesn't matter now. What matters is Mungu needs our support." Mungu suddenly looked up, tears streaming down his face. "Just...just leave me alone," he whispered. "Get out. I don't want to see you guys again. Ever." Youssef and Adam exchanged worried glances. Adam took a step forward, but Mungu's voice was forceful. "I said leave me! Get out!" Youssef and Adam reluctantly exited the ring, leaving Mungu to his anguish. Mungu got up, wiped his face, and walked silently back to the resort, his eyes fixed on the ground. He didn't notice the people around him, didn't hear the noise of the city. He just walked his heart heavy with pain and shame.

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