Every teacher chooses their student. And every student chooses their teacher.
I don’t know what caught his interest in me or what he saw in me. But he teaches me. A strange science. And I’m too young to understand it all.
But I chose him too. I felt that I mattered to him. And he was someone everyone feared. Yet he feared no one—and seemingly nothing.
His calm, unremarkable attire blended him into the crowd. But not everything could be hidden. His resolve, the cold calm of a predator—it was palpable and terrifying. But not to me. Maybe I’m a predator too.
He’s not talkative. He carries two pistols and a magnificent knife. Its handle is crafted, its blade slightly curved and gleaming with a mesmerizing shine. I don’t know everything yet. I know he shoots with both hands, that he’s a master of parkour. And today is another lesson.
We climb onto the rooftops. The height takes my breath away.
I look around and perhaps understand how birds see the world as they soar high in the air.
Nearby, there’s another building. They stand close together. My teacher easily jumps onto the neighboring roof.
He beckons me with his hand. I approach the edge.
Fear. Overwhelming fear of heights grips me. It paralyzes my movements, makes me weak.
I can’t jump.
The teacher understands everything and jumps back to me.
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.
He steps aside and draws two lines on the roof with chalk.
This is the distance between the buildings.
“Jump,” he says calmly.
I jump easily.
“Again.”
I jump back. The distance is truly small. And I understand everything. I understand that fear prevents me from jumping to the neighboring roof. But what to do with it—with this fear?
It’s as if he reads my thoughts.
“Believe in yourself. Only in yourself. Everything else is an illusion.”
We approach the edge again. He once again easily jumps to the neighboring roof.
And again beckons me. Doubts rage within me. I know I can jump. And it’s not difficult. Fear. Believe in yourself. It’s just a meter and a half. A meter and a half with an abyss below.
I step back slightly to get a running start. It’s unnecessary, but I want to play it safe. Fear is still with me.
I take a short run and jump. Time slows down. I see, I feel that I’m not going to make it. Fear and horror engulf me. I see my broken body down below. I reach out my hand, and he catches me.
I can’t catch my breath. I’m trembling all over.
“Do you understand?”
Yes, I understand. I couldn’t overcome my fear.
“Now, without safety. Jump first.”
Something inside me screams “no!” But another part says “yes!”
It’s complete madness, but I stand, approach the very edge, and calmly jump.
And now I’m on the other roof! So simple! And so difficult! To overcome yourself.
But the main question is why? And I can’t answer that question.
He approaches me and nods approvingly.
He takes out his magnificent knife and hands it to me.
“Do you like it?”
“Yes!”
I feel the weight of the steel, the perfect balance. I spin it around my hand a few times. Make a light thrust. Perfect.
A slight movement of the hand, and the knife disappears into my sleeve. Tensed muscles hold it there. I relax my hand, and it slides into my palm.
“Excellent!” Is that encouragement in his voice?
And I immediately duck from his strike.
“Never relax!” he concludes, carefully redirecting my knife away from his side.
I smile slightly.