Three decades ago, the West African Confederation was the most powerful country in Africa.
Not because of its military might or its vast natural resources, but because of my family.
Chimbo. It means the rising sun.
We were the only martial family that could compete with the world's most powerful and deadliest martial families, groups, and practitioners on earth.
Powerful countries in Europe, Asia, and other parts of the world respected the WAC simply because my family existed.
Every time I thought of my last name, my chest and head swelled with pride.
Unfortunately, nothing good lasts forever.
My memories are still a blur. I can barely remember the events of that day because I was just a boy back then, and my therapist says whatever I experienced must have been so horrific, my mind is intentionally blocking it out. Regardless, the tragic event made me an orphan and the last surviving member of the Chimbo family.
It was a major loss for the WAC and an even bigger loss for me.
Now I dare not use my last name, because I fear whoever came for my family would come for me if they realized a member of the Chimbo family still stood.
—
Ding-Ding!
Ding-Ding!
Uche's eyes flipped open almost mechanically, and the first thing he noticed was the creaking ceiling fan swinging lazily. The alarm from his phone kept blaring, but his undiluted focus never left the spinning fan.
His eyes were dull, lifeless, and empty. It almost looked like he was annoyed at the realization he had to live through another day.
Knock-Knock!
"IT'S 7:30 ALREADY, YOU CAN'T BE LATE ON YOUR FIRST DAY!" A loud yell came from the other side of the door, causing Uche to squint in discomfort.
Begrudgingly, he sat up and stayed there for three minutes before getting off the bed and walking over to the wall mirror on the far left side of the room, next to the old brown wardrobe.
Uche was about 5'9" at the age of 20. For someone who could be considered small, he had an intimidating yet moderate build of lean but well-defined muscles.
He had a cornrow hairstyle with the sides shaved clean, and a pair of visible tear trough lines that gave the impression he was always exhausted. But this complimented his goatee and light brown skin tone.
He was the perfect definition of "harmless but dangerous."
The mixed vibes that radiated from him earned admiration from many girls, but he never bothered sparing them a glance.
"God, kill me already," Uche mumbled in an annoyed tone before returning to his bed and dressing it.
Today was his first day as a transfer student at the University of the West African Confederation, Nigeria. It was undeniably the most prestigious school in the state, located in the capital, Abuja. Even though Uche worked hard to ace the entrance exams, he wasn't particularly excited about the admission.
Why?
Because Uche was empty.
After the tragic events of his childhood that left him orphaned, not only were his memories of the past a blur, but everything felt and tasted bland.
Food, no matter how good, was tasteless in his mouth. Even his emotions were like a flowing river. They kept moving, flowing but never sticking, and most times they rushed faster than he could process or act on.
This made him slow to react in conversations with others. He needed critical thinking just to converse and not come off as weird. This was why he always kept to himself.
What about Uche's love life?
Non-existent.
He had no lingering attachments, no first love, no crush.
Uche just existed in his own world. No one understood his struggles, and he never cared to share.
After dressing his bed, Uche took out his towel from the wardrobe and headed straight for the bathroom. As usual, he took a cold shower before choosing black jeans, boots, and a hoodie for his fit on the first day of school.
As soon as he got dressed, he left his room for the living room where his foster mother, Mrs. Doris Okafor, was having tea, toasted bread, and scrambled eggs for breakfast. Doris and her husband had found Uche on the streets when he was about 13 years old and adopted him.
Only after joining the Okafor family did Uche realize his foster mother had suffered several miscarriages and never had a child of her own. Even with serious family pressure, Mr. Okafor refused to divorce and remarry. They even offered to get him a second wife, but he refused and stayed loyal to his wife.
The family treated Uche well and raised him like he was their own. Because of this, they were the only people he could tolerate. He was never overly affectionate with them, but he always made the necessary effort to take care of them in any way possible, no matter how small.
Unfortunately, several years after his adoption, Mr. Okafor died in a plane crash during one of his usual overseas business trips. With his death came a lot of shake-ups—financially, emotionally, and within the family.
Mr. Okafor's siblings fought tooth and nail to snatch as many properties as they could. Thankfully, he had left a well-detailed will that already put everything in his wife's name.
After several court cases that dragged on for over three years, Doris was able to protect all her husband had left for her.
The family business was not as good as before, and her husband's death shook things up badly, but she managed to keep it running. In summary, the Okafor family wasn't wealthy, but they weren't poor either.
They had enough to live well and owned a few houses here and there where they spent time during vacations. In fact, they were originally based in Enugu before moving to Abuja solely because of Uche's admission to the University.
"Aah, this one you are already dressed up, won't you have breakfast before you go?" Doris raised her face and gave Uche a good look while speaking.
Uche casually shook his head while shoving a few notebooks into his bag and zipping it up before returning his gaze to Doris.
"I'm not hungry." His response was as simple and straightforward as usual, but it only attracted a frown from Doris.
"I know you've been planning to starve yourself to death, but as long as I'm alive you will not succeed. COME AND EAT JARE!" she snapped, pointing at the empty seat beside hers.
There were already three slices of toasted bread with a generous portion of scrambled eggs on a plate waiting.
Uche's brows curved into a small frown, but he didn't argue. He knew she was only looking out for him as a mother would. Arguing would only prolong the inevitable.
"A wise man knows when to succumb to a greater power," he reminded himself before dropping his bag on the sofa an
d walking over to the dining table.
Breakfast was quiet and brief. Just the way Uche liked it.