Chapter 11.2: Practicing for the Color Sports Day—Why Are You Just Telling Me Now?
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It was, without a doubt, the most crippled longboat team anyone had ever seen.
Honestly? We were doomed from the start—
And before we even had time to complain, each of us got dragged to a so-called "trainer," matched with our positions. No one asked if we wanted to.
The moment I saw my trainer, I swear I wanted to just walk back home.
Mine was an old monk with a stern face, the kind of guy who could make you feel guilty just by looking at you. He scanned me from head to toe, sighed heavily, then poked my shoulder with a long stick.
"The bowman must be steady as a mountain. Do you understand, child?"
Steady as a mountain? I could barely stand straight without wobbling.
He forced me to spread my legs, hands on my hips, glaring like a general. Then out of nowhere, whack! — he smacked my head.
"Don't laugh! The bow must look serious!"
Of course, telling me not to laugh only made it worse. My grin slipped out before I could stop it. His face turned red, and I wasn't sure if it was anger or embarrassment.
Thomas had it even worse. His trainer was this old man with a ridiculously long white mustache, like some martial arts master straight out of a wuxia (Chinese chivalry story). He set the steering oar on Thomas's shoulder and said, "The stern is your life."
Thomas's face went pale. "No no… my life is mine!"
The old guy chuckled, slapped his back so hard Thomas nearly fell into the river, and handed him the oar again. "Spin it."
Thomas tried twirling it like a staff. Failed instantly. Whack! He hit himself square on the head. Everyone burst out laughing as he grabbed his skull, yelling, "Shit! That hurts!"
Meanwhile, James and Jan were dragged to a squat, heavyset auntie sitting by the riverbank with an oar bigger than her whole body. She didn't even wait to start yelling.
"If you don't row in sync, the boat will spin like a damn top! You got that!?"
James snorted, gave a lazy little row as if testing the water.
"Too soft!" she bellowed. "You want to row like that, go nap at home, son!"
Jan, on the other hand, pulled so hard that water splashed all over the auntie's face. Instead of being angry, the woman laughed out loud. "Good! But too much strength—you'll lose your arms before we hit the finish line!"
James smirked and shot back, "If your arms fall off, I'll row this boat alone, Jan."
Jan snapped instantly, "Yeah? If you don't drop dead first!"
The elders on the bank laughed so hard it felt like we were in a comedy show.
Maria was handed to a raspy-voiced grandma banging a bamboo drum. Thud, thud, thud.
"The coxswain must be loud! The whole boat must hear you!"
Maria took a deep breath, then shrieked, "One two three goooo!!"
Her pitch was so high the chickens nearby panicked and flew off.
Grandma cackled. "Not like you're selling lottery tickets, girl! Do it with spirit, like this!"
Then she let out a surprisingly thunderous shout, "Row! Row! Row!"
The elders on the shore actually started mimicking her, paddling in the air like they'd joined an aerobics class.
Maria doubled over laughing before turning back and screaming with even higher pitch. The kids around the pier plugged their ears and ran away.
By the time Maria was still shrieking "Row! Row! Row!", James and Jan were bickering again.
"Stop rowing faster than me!"
"Then stop rowing slower than a turtle!"
Thomas was still failing at the stern, shouting in panic. "Wait—wait, the boat's leaning! It's tilting, guys!!"
And me? I popped up soaking wet, yelling my lungs out—
"What the fuck am I supposed to do now!?"
CRAAASH!
Three seconds later, the entire boat capsized. All of us went tumbling into the water at once.
James came up first, flailing. "Swim to the shore! Or you wanna wait for a new boat?!"
Jan surfaced coughing and choking. "Told you—you rowed too hard, dumbass!!"
Thomas was thrashing helplessly. "I couldn't control the stern! Don't blame me alone!"
Maria? Still screaming, voice echoing across the river. "Stay calm! Keep rowing even in the water! Keep the rhythm!!"
The scene was chaos—pure nightmare comedy.
I clung to the half-sunken bow, my arms shaking, slipping every few seconds. James wasn't far, thrashing like a drowning dog, splashing water into everyone's faces.
Jan wasn't better off. She coughed and cursed between gulps of water, trying to shove her soaked hair out of her eyes, her face twisted with rage and panic all at once.
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Behind me, Thomas was desperately kicking at the boat, trying to push it upright again. Instead of helping, he nearly sent the damn thing drifting farther away. His face twisted with exhaustion and panic, sweat mixing with river water as it streamed down his temples.
And the one giving me the biggest headache? Maria.
Even while floating neck-deep in the river, she refused to drop her role as "the caller." Her mouth barked commands into the open air, voice echoing across the bend, hands pounding out rhythm like this was the grand championship and not a full-blown shipwreck.
The chaos was deafening—shouts, splashes, curses, all tangled together into one drowning symphony.
On the riverbank, the monks and the old folks weren't helping at all. Nope. They were doubled over, laughing so hard they slapped their thighs, clapping as if they were watching likay (a traditional Thai comedic folk performance) right in the middle of the water.
I yelled until my throat burned.
"Idiots! Grab the boat! If you can't swim, hold onto it! I'll—wait, shit! I can't swim either!!!"
Everyone froze for three whole seconds. Then the collective scream hit me all at once:
"You're the bowman and you can't swim!??"
"Yeah!!!" I shouted back, voice breaking. "The bow doesn't need to swim, damn it!!!"
The river erupted with chaos. Water slapping, voices colliding, curses flying in every direction. "Whee-bo-na-ba!" nonsense noises mixing with pure panic until finally—mercifully—the monks shoved a long bamboo pole out toward us. We clung on like half-dead ducks, dragged to the shore in complete disgrace.
Collapsing onto the muddy riverbank, all of us soaked to the bone, I shoved my wet hair out of my eyes and exhaled like a man who'd just come back from war.
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Morning light spilled across the calm river, golden and serene, but our longboat training was anything but peaceful. I stood at the bow, hands gripping the paddle tight, sweat already sliding down my cheeks. My eyes tried to lock forward, but they wavered, unsteady. The head instructor marched toward me, gaze sharp enough to slice me open.
"Bowman! With eyes like that, where the hell do you plan to steer us?" His shout rattled the boat, made the water slap against the sides. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to follow his command, but my arms shook beneath the weight of the paddle.
At the stern, Thomas hunched down, kicking his paddle like he wanted to steer us away from disaster.
"Ease up, man! You're paddling too hard!" he gasped, trying to keep his posture intact but sounding like he was about to cry.
In the middle seats, James and Jan looked like two drowning dogs—splashing, swiping at each other, paddling hard one moment, half-assing it the next. Water sprayed up into their faces until they shouted in unison, "Too strong, idiot!!" Jan flicked her hand, slapping water at James. James smacked back like a little kid. Both of them sputtered, half laughing, half screaming.
Maria, meanwhile, stood tall in the caller's spot, arms raised high, hammering the beat with terrifying commitment.
"Left–right! Left–right! Hup, hup!"
Her voice bounced over the water, fierce and unshakable like a warrior general. I almost wanted to salute her—if I wasn't already choking on stress.
Instead, I roared back: "Screw your rhythm!!" and clenched the paddle harder, fighting to keep the boat from tipping.
Instructors rushed along the riverbank, their voices sharper and funnier than before, half lecture, half comedy roast.
"Bowman! Stand firm or tomorrow you'll never touch this boat again!"
"Thomas! That paddle is for steering, not for kicking your way out of life!"
"James! Jan! Stop slapping each other and row in sync, damn it!"
We looked at each other, grinning awkwardly through exhaustion, but still followed orders. Water drenched our arms, soaked our shirts, but every ridiculous command somehow made the chaos less terrifying—and more fun.
I stood at the bow, trying to hold the rhythm. Thomas gritted his teeth at the stern, steering like his life depended on it. James and Jan finally moved almost together, half-arguing, half-rowing. Maria shouted herself hoarse, her beat echoing over the ripples.
All of it merged into one absurd river song—loud, messy, exhausting, but alive.
When the instructors finally called us back to shore, we staggered out of the boat dripping wet, panting, water squelching from every step. I was ready to collapse. But their eyes told us clear as day: Not enough yet.
They dragged me back toward the old monk. His grip was iron, his gaze unshakable.
"Bowman!" His voice thundered. "Never let your hands tremble. Trembling is losing control. Eyes forward!"
I nodded, clutching the paddle until my knuckles whitened, face flushed red with exhaustion and nerves.
Thomas was thrown to another elder, a muscular man with a thick beard who looked like he could break a paddle with his pinky. He swung his oar like a weapon.
"Helmsman! Control the stern! If you let this boat drift, I'll smash your ribs with this!"
Thomas's eyes went wide. He clutched his paddle so tight water sprayed into his face, but he still nodded like a soldier under fire.
James and Jan each ended up with separate instructors. Both men barked at them with furrowed brows, half-angry, half-amused.
"Rowers! Keep your arms in sync. If your strength is uneven, the boat is doomed!"
James tried to match the pace, bumped into Jan. She burst out laughing and screaming at once:
"I told you you were too strong, dumbass!!"
Maria, meanwhile, had her own mentor: a grandmotherly elder with a mischievous grin and a bamboo stick. She smacked it on the dock.
"Caller! Your rhythm must be sharp! Shout it clear! If not, your rowers will all die!"
Maria straightened her spine, pounded the beat, and bellowed with renewed fury. I couldn't help it—I laughed until I almost dropped my paddle.
The shouts of instructors mixed with the slap of water against wood, a rhythm of chaos that was half discipline, half comedy. We were drenched, cursing, laughing, choking on river spray—yet slowly, impossibly, we began to work together.
Our arms steadied. Our posture grew firmer. And for the first time, the boat actually moved as one.
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After the training ended, I panted heavily, gripping the paddle tightly. I looked at my friends—hair messy, faces splashed with water—but the smiles on all of them clearly said one thing: exhausted, yes, but having the most fun possible.
The old monk at the bow stood with legs wide apart, one hand pointing with the paddle, the other swiping at the water.
"Helmsman! Look up at the water! Up! If you mess up now, it won't just be wet—you'll bash your head against the paddle!"
I shrugged, feigning boredom.
"Sigh…being helmsman is this tiring, huh…"
The old monk twirled his paddle close to my face.
"Stop whining! Listen! The water waits for no one! Your rhythm is everyone's life!"
Thomas looked up at the elder controlling the stern and started whining,
"And why the hell do we have to paddle both standing and sitting…"
The old man with the beard swirled the paddle lightly at Thomas,
"This is not a game! Stern! One wrong move and the boat capsizes! Got it?"
Thomas fidgeted, water splashing into his eyes.
"What do I do…sitting's hard, standing's harder…"
The elder laughed hoarsely.
"Ha! Stand! Stand like a warrior! The water is the enemy! Your hands and eyes must be one!"
The middle pair—James and Jan—were scrutinized by another stern elder.
"Hands! Straight! Arms! Strike like you hit the enemy's face! Strong but rhythmic!"
James splashed water into Jan's face.
"Man, I didn't know paddling could be this tiring…"
Jan brushed water off, annoyed.
"Hey! You're splashing everyone!"
The elder laughed until his cheeks shook.
"Whine again and you'll float in the water with the boat!"
Maria stood, yelling as the old announcer.
"Calm down! Keep the rhythm! Loud enough! If not, the rowers will die before the finish!"
Maria made a determined face, still pounding the paddle with her hands.
"Alright! Fight! This isn't a kiddie pool!"
The old lady chuckled faintly.
"Ha! Right! But if you complain again, I'll splash water straight in your faces!"
After being soaked and battered, we were ready again. I stood at the bow, feet planted firmly on the paddle, water splashing on my face, but I ignored it, eyes fixed on the direction. The boat shifted slightly. I shot Thomas a glance at the stern—he gripped the paddle tight, sweat mixing with water soaking his shirt, arms trembling from overexertion.
James and Jan, in the middle, faces red like boiled lobsters, gripped their paddles, but even small waves made their arms falter, water splashing into their mouths. Jan clenched her teeth, groaning, James tried to push the boat straight but almost tipped over.
Maria stood nearby, expression strict, yelling the rhythm to everyone like a battlefield announcer.
"Paddle! Paddle on the beat! Don't let go!"
Water drenched her, but she kept the stern announcer's composure. I couldn't help but smile—her seriousness contrasted hilariously with the chaos around.
I turned the helm slightly, adjusting the direction. The boat swayed like a rocking horse at a fair. James and Jan shouted, faces sending messages that screamed, "I'm about to fall!" Thomas stomped at the stern with focus, but mismatched paddling made the boat tilt left and right.
I shouted, voice firm but heart racing,
"Follow the rhythm! Don't let the boat die in the water!"
James shot me a glare, Jan sprayed water like cleaning spray. Thomas nearly kicked the boat off its line.
Maria continued standing, pounding the paddle and yelling encouragement. Water splashed her face fully, but her determined face stayed the same, like a battlefield announcer. I saw it and couldn't help but chuckle.
Water splashed into my eyes. I blinked, seeing the boat rocking as if it would tip. My friends struggled diligently, but their awkward postures made the scene look like a circus on water—no one laughed though, only tense determination.
Splashing water into our faces, I tried to balance at the bow. The boat rocked like a fairground ride. James and Jan in the middle tried to follow the rhythm, but their arms started to fail, faces red, water in mouths and noses.
"Oh shit! I'm gonna drown!" Jan screamed sharply, brushing water off her face but getting splashed by James again.
Thomas at the stern tried to steer, but uneven paddling tilted the boat. I shouted until my throat hurt.
"Paddle on the rhythm! Don't let the boat die in the water!"
Maria stood by, beating the rhythm with her hands and shouting. She tried to act normal, but her face was soaked. Stern as ever, but internally she must've been dizzy from the chaos.
Then came the critical moment—the boat started to tilt, almost capsizing. James tried to push it straight, but his and Jan's paddles didn't match. The boat rocked, I almost lost balance.
"Ahhh! The boat's gonna capsize!" I shouted, clinging to the bow paddle. Cold water made my body shiver.
James tried to climb onto the boat, but arms too tired to support himself. Jan splashed water in her panic, shouting and cursing.
"I told you! You're paddling too hard!"
Thomas at the stern tried to control the direction, but mismatched paddling made the boat spin. I had to shout to maintain the rhythm, water in my eyes, heart racing.
Maria still stood, pounding and shouting, trying to calm the team, but water drenched her face. I couldn't help smiling at her stern expression against the chaos.
Then came the crisis—a giant dark shadow appeared in the water. James tried paddling forward but veered off. Jan kicked and splashed, almost toppling. Thomas tried correcting, but the boat spun again. After multiple trials, bodies nearly broken, everyone showed clear exhaustion. I exhaled hotly.
"Can't train anymore…one more push and I'll collapse into the water," I rasped, arms and legs weak.
Thomas at the stern spat water out, exhausted, still trying to hold the rudder. James and Jan almost toppled, arms trembling, heads red like cooked lobsters.
Maria persisted, standing and shouting, though her voice was hoarse, face pale but eyes still stern as a battlefield announcer.
Then, all instructors called us to stop. We gasped, drenched, clothes soaked, bodies nearly spent but trying to stand on the bank.
Thomas' parents called for food. The aroma hit us like heaven. We ate like starving people, no manners, just survival energy.
After the meal, we went to Thomas' house. Bodies exhausted. I collapsed on the bed, feeling as heavy as stone. Breath steady but heart racing from excitement.
James and Jan lay next to me, limbs sprawled. Thomas turned his back, wrapped in blankets. Maria on the sofa, her hoarse voice finally silent.
Finally…we fell dead asleep. No complaints. No resistance. Bodies and hearts fully immersed in sleep.
The night wind drifted through the window, carrying scents of damp earth and leaves. I shifted on the bed, feeling the weight of my body filled with exhaustion. Breath deepened. Hands on my chest and side. I surrendered to the warmth of the blanket.
My eyes slowly closed…slowly…as the outside world faded. Sounds of the river, friends' laughter, wind, birds—all softened into the beat of my own heart.
Dreams began to shimmer. Scenes from today mixed with memories, drifting like a slow film. No noise. No pain. Only a warm feeling in my chest.
Breath deepened. Muscles relaxed. Tension melted. Finally…fully immersed in sleep.
Moonlight pierced through dense foliage, falling in streaks on the dark water. Night insects sounded like a wild orchestra. Smell of mud and plants mixed with cool wind. I felt as if floating in an unfamiliar world. Dense forest, shadows looming, almost blocking the sky. Only giant tree silhouettes bent as if to swallow us.
I sat at the bow, eyes fixed on the dark, damp water. Hands gripped the paddle tightly. In my heart…there was no way out.
Thomas at the stern looked tense, veins bulging on his temples, hands trembling on the rudder.
Not surprising, I shivered too.
James and Jan in the middle still bickered.
"Paddle softer! My arms are gonna fall off!" Jan yelled, shaking her wet hair off her face.
"Don't mess my rhythm!" James shot back. Echoes in the forest made the birds scatter.
Maria…oh god, she kept the announcer mode, soaked, sweating, pounding the rhythm and shouting.
"Paddle! Paddle! Don't stop! You are the embodiment of faith!!"
I nearly wanted to shout back: Faith, my ass! But fear kept me silent.
Suddenly—thump!
The boat shook violently. A heavy thud echoed from the stern. Thomas' face went pale. He glanced at us and muttered shakily,
"Shit…something hit the stern, I didn't see it…"
My heart thumped violently. I squinted and saw a shadow rise from the water—at first, I thought—
Gecko?
Blinked again—no…
Branch?
Focus sharpened—still no…
Wait…shit…
Crocodile!?
My brain froze for a split second. I slapped my own face mentally—yes, Ray, definitely a crocodile!
"Hah…" I exhaled short.
But when I looked again, eyes wide, heart skipped a beat. A massive black form emerged from the water. Yellow eyes glowed, rows of sharp teeth reflecting moonlight…
"Hah…shit!!! Crocodile!!!"
"Everyone…stay calm…" I tried to sound steady, but my own sweat poured, hands trembling on the paddle. Of course, no one believed me—faces all terrified.
"Shit!!" James yelled, paddling madly, almost breaking his arms.
"Left! Left, left!!" Jan wailed, tears and splashes flying.
Maria didn't stop yelling:
"Faster! God's boat must not sink to hellish creatures!! Rhythm! One! Two!"
"Enough, Maria!!" I shouted, heart pounding, still trying to steer.
Thomas gripped the rudder tight, teeth clenched.
"I told you not to try this in the forest!!"
"How the hell was I supposed to know there's a crocodile!!" I shouted back, fighting the helm.
Water exploded around us, splashssss!! The black giant rose in the middle of the river. Its tail slammed the water, waves rocking the boat. Everyone nearly fell in.
"Damn! If I die, I'll haunt you every night, Ray!!!" James screamed, paddling like a madman.
"You won't help yourself dead, idiot!! Paddle!!" Jan shot back.
Maria yelled, "Don't fear! Faith will protect!!"
Thomas yelled, "Faith won't save me from its teeth!!!"
The boat lurched forward clumsily, paddle slamming the water splash! Each stroke like a drumbeat, but the more we paddled, the heavier the pressure surrounding us—I could barely breathe.
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I accidentally glanced to my left—oh wow, I nearly let out a scream. A colossal snake was coiled around a tree branch, its head lifted high, flicking a forked tongue in and out like it was staring right at me. Its murky yellow eyes seemed to pierce straight into my mind, threatening to shatter every ounce of composure I had.
I whipped my head to the right—oh god! Another one! This one was as long as a log, coiled above a bent branch hovering over the water. Its glossy scales reflected the dim light like polished steel. Even the shadow alone was big enough to obscure the entire boat.
Before I could steady myself, a thud! rang from behind. I flinched violently. Glancing back, my blood ran cold. The same crocodile from before was still trailing us. Its golden eyes gleamed like torches of death in the shadows. Its jaws stretched wide, revealing rows of sharp teeth. The snap! sound it made slicing through the air sent shivers down my spine.
My heart hammered—thump! thump! thump!—as if it would explode out of my chest. Sweat poured down my forehead even though I was in cold water. The only thought racing in my mind—
I'm dead! Totally dead!
Jerk!
I suddenly woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, gasping for air as if I had been running for miles to escape. For a moment, I had no idea where I was. Only when I saw the wooden ceiling of Thomas' house did I realize… it was just a dream.
I flopped onto my back, listening to the steady breaths of my friends all around, sleeping like the dead. My heart kept pounding for a while before I gradually calmed down and drifted back to sleep.
Morning came, warm sunlight streaming through the windows. We woke to the chirping of birds in the garden. After breakfast, we returned to training according to the plan. Though our bodies were still sore from yesterday, no one complained as much—everyone seemed to be growing more focused with each passing moment.
During practice, P'Theer and P'Ya stopped by to check on us. They stood at the riverbank smiling. P'Theer made a fist and pumped it up and down like sending us strength, while P'Ya held a bag of snacks to hand out. We grabbed them almost silently, but the sparkle in everyone's eyes was different—like tiny sparks of energy had been injected without words.
That scene felt like a small boost of power, a quiet preparation before we had to face the real challenge ahead…