[School Playground – Yapo's Middle School]
The midday sun blazed down on the concrete schoolyard. Yapo leaned against a wall, his eyes fixed on the cracked screen of his phone. A boxing video was playing: a coach was explaining how to properly throw a jab. Focused, Yapo clenched his fists and mimicked the movements.
A few meters away, his friends, sitting under a tree, watched him and whispered.
— "What's Yapo doing again?" Jean asked, amused.
— "Training for an imaginary fight," laughed Kouassi.
— "Look at him, he moves like a robot!"
Laughter broke out. Yapo heard it but kept going, ignoring their mockery. He adjusted his stance, tried a hook... and nearly stumbled. This time, they burst out laughing.
— "Hey Yapo, trying to be world champ on your phone?" Kouassi called out, clapping mockingly.
Yapo looked up, eyes filled with defiance. He didn't have time for their jokes. One day, they'd see. One day, he'd prove he didn't need them to move forward.
He took a breath and resumed his training.
---
[Family Courtyard – Yapo's House]
The sun was beginning to set, bathing the small training yard in golden light. Yapo was there, as he was every evening, doing push-ups on the rough ground, his arms trembling with effort. His grandfather sat silently on an old wooden chair, observing.
But that evening, something was different. His usually proud and wise eyes were filled with sadness, as if he had seen something Yapo hadn't.
— "Something wrong, Yapo?" his grandfather asked, standing up slowly.
Yapo exhaled and sat up, wiping the sweat from his brow.
— "It's nothing, Grandpa. I'm just tired."
But his grandfather stared intensely at him, his sharp eyes seeming to read his soul.
— "I can tell something's bothering you. Your schoolmates... You seem to care too much about what they think."
Yapo froze. He had thought his grandfather hadn't noticed what was happening at school. But he had.
— "They bully me. They mock me because I'm not like them," Yapo said, lowering his eyes. "I'm not strong enough."
The old boxer placed a gentle but firm hand on his grandson's shoulder.
— "Boxing isn't just about physical strength. It's up here," he said, tapping his temple. "It's about your mind. Knowing when and how to defend yourself. You've got the will, Yapo. You just need to learn how to use it."
Yapo looked up, his eyes uncertain.
— "But I'm scared, Grandpa. Scared to lose again."
The old man smiled gently. He crouched in front of him, locking eyes with his grandson.
— "It's normal to be scared. Even the greatest fighters feel fear. But what matters is what you do with that fear. If you let it control you, you've lost before you've begun. Boxing is learning to get up after every fall, to come back stronger. The training won't be easy. But if you want to be free of their ridicule, you'll have to fight. And I'll teach you how."
He stood and stepped back, preparing to introduce the basics of boxing.
— "You'll start by learning how to stand, how to breathe, how to face your opponent. Defense before offense."
Yapo watched him, his eyes shining with a mix of doubt and determination.
— "Ready?" his grandfather asked.
Yapo nodded. He was ready to begin, even if he wasn't sure it would be enough to change anything.
His grandfather handed him a pair of boxing gloves.
— "Remember, Yapo: a fight always starts in your head. Sharpen your body, but also your mind. Just knowing how to fight isn't enough to win."
These words, followed by the training session, gave Yapo a renewed sense of courage. But can beautiful words alone drown out the harsh reality of life?
Night had fallen on the small training yard, lit only by an old bulb hanging under the awning. Yapo, drenched in sweat, breathed heavily after an intense session with his grandfather. The old man, sitting on a rickety stool, looked at him with pride and melancholy.
— "You're getting better, but you haven't seen anything yet."
Yapo frowned, intrigued. His grandfather looked up at the sky, as if replaying a distant memory.
— "There's a state... a feeling that only a few fighters ever reach. It's called Resonance."
He paused, letting silence give weight to his words.
— "When you enter it, everything becomes clear. Your body doesn't think — it acts. Your heart beats so loud you feel every pulse. Pain vanishes. The world slows down."
His eyes gleamed with a strange light — part nostalgia, part regret.
— "I've been there, Yapo. Once. Just once..."
The boy stayed quiet. He rarely saw his grandfather speak like this.
— "It was... during the final of a tournament. My body was finished; I couldn't lift my arms. Then... it happened. I felt a heat rise through me, like my whole being was boiling. And for a moment, I was stronger than ever."
Yapo squinted, skeptical.
— "That's just a legend. If it were real, everyone would use it."
The old man gave a sad smile.
— "That's what I thought too. Until I felt it. But remember this, boy... Resonance isn't a gift. It's a gamble. It gives, but it also takes. And it only lasts a few seconds."
He stood up slowly and walked toward Yapo.
— "If you want to understand, then feel it."
With a sharp motion, he placed his hand on his grandson's chest. Yapo felt an intense pressure, like his heart was about to burst. For a brief instant, everything around him seemed to blur... Then nothing.
Panting, he stepped back, haunted.
His grandfather chuckled softly.
— "Not ready yet, huh? Don't worry... one day, you'll understand."
---
[The Next Day at School]
The schoolyard buzzed with noisy students, laughing and chatting in small groups. Yapo, as usual, stayed off to the side, clutching his bag. He was used to being alone. But today, he knew recess wouldn't end peacefully.
— "Hey, the champion with no wins is here!" a mocking voice called behind him.
Yapo closed his eyes briefly before turning slowly. In front of him, the same three boys. Désiré, the biggest and meanest, stepped forward with a mocking grin.
— "Still training to box, Yapo?" one laughed.
— "Yeah, but he's never won a fight in his life!" added another, laughing.
Yapo clenched his fists but didn't move. He knew if he reacted, they'd hit him.
— "Leave me alone, Désiré."
— "Leave me alone," Désiré mocked in a whiny tone. "Look at you! You think you're gonna be a champion with that shrimp body?"
The others laughed harder.
Désiré placed a heavy hand on Yapo's shoulder and squeezed.
— "You should quit boxing. You're only good at taking hits."
The shame burned inside him, but Yapo didn't know what to do. He wanted to hit back, to defend himself... But his body wouldn't follow. He had lost too many times.
Suddenly, Désiré shoved him hard. Yapo stumbled and fell as the other students laughed. A quiet rage surged in him, held back for too long. But before he could act, the bell rang.
Désiré crouched beside him and whispered:
— "Stay in your place, Yapo. It's better for you. Or if you want to fight, wait until the next break."
Then he walked off, leaving Yapo alone, eyes in the dirt. The challenge was set. Yapo would have to wait until the next break to settle things.
---
The awaited hour came.
The schoolyard buzzed again during break. Yapo walked alone, his bag on his shoulder, trying to avoid eye contact. But he knew it wouldn't last.
— "Well, look who it is — our so-called boxer!" a mocking voice rang out.
Before he could turn around, someone snatched his bag. Désiré opened it and dumped its contents on the ground.
— "Look at this! The champion of losers!"
Students around them laughed. Anger flared in Yapo, burning. His grandfather had told him never to let himself be walked over.
— "Give me my bag," he said, voice cold.
Désiré raised an amused eyebrow.
— "Or what?"
Yapo clenched his fists. He knew he wasn't strong enough... but this time, he wouldn't back down. Without thinking, he threw a punch.
Désiré dodged easily and punched him hard in the stomach. Air fled Yapo's lungs as he doubled over, gasping.
— "That all you got?" Désiré laughed, backhanding his face.
Yapo stumbled back. His ear rang, his cheek burned. He threw another desperate punch, but Désiré grabbed his collar, lifted him slightly, then slammed him to the ground.
Laughter erupted.
— "You wanna be a boxer?! You can't even stand up!"
Yapo tried to rise, but Désiré stepped on his chest.
— "Stay down, loser."
The humiliation was complete. Students around him either laughed or looked away. He wanted to disappear.
Désiré tossed his bag on his head and walked off, still laughing. Yapo lay on the ground, his gaze blank.
That day, he understood something: he wasn't ready yet.
Yapo lay on the concrete, arms spread, his head resting against the ground. Every breath was torture. The laughter of others barely reached him anymore. All that mattered was the crushing weight of defeat. "I'm nothing..." He clenched his fists, but nothing happened. He didn't move. Not yet ready to get back up.