Uzo stood by the narrow corridor outside the community hall, the smell of rain clinging to the rusted zinc roof. All day, clouds had threatened to break open, but the rain held back as if waiting for something unseen to finish unfolding first.
Inside, youths were gathering ; some loyal, some new, and some still watching with crossed arms. The tension had shifted in the past week. There were whispers of betrayal. Stories that someone close had taken money. Names were flying around, and Uzo knew the rival figure was stirring it all quietly.
Ikenna came out, closing the door behind him. "We counted. Not everyone came."
"I didn't expect everyone," Uzo replied. "What matters is who stayed."
"They said Chuka was the one who leaked the materials," Ikenna said quietly.
Uzo turned. "Do you believe that?"
"I don't want to."
Uzo nodded. "Neither do I. But we deal with people, not rumours. If we treat everyone like a suspect, we will lose even those who are still faithful."
He stepped away from the corridor, walking toward the back of the hall where the generator used to be. The area was quiet, shaded by overgrown bushes and half-dead plantain trees. He paused there, breathing. The ground was wet, the air thick. But there was stillness.
He spoke, not loudly. "Oku, I do not know what comes next. But I know You see it."
There was no thunder. No fire. But his heart slowed. The worry melted into something firm. A thought. A clarity.
He turned back.
Inside, Adaeze had taken the lead. She stood with a notepad, addressing the small team. "Whether it's true or not, we must not fight each other. That is what they want. Divide us and win. Simple."
Chinelo raised her hand. "But should we not investigate? If it was Chuka, he shouldn't be allowed back."
Adaeze lowered the notepad slightly. "And if it wasn't him?"
Chinelo was quiet.
Uzo stepped in. "She's right."
The room turned.
He looked around. "This is not the time to doubt our foundation. If you're not sure of the path, no one is holding you back. But if you're here, stand firm. We don't fight with fists or noise. We fight with endurance. And we do not scatter because one person failed."
Zuby stood up from his corner, adjusting his cap. "I no sabi talk like una, but wetin I know be say, if we no gree lose, then dem no fit win."
There were a few chuckles. The tension broke a little.
Uzo smiled. "Thank you, Zuby."
They spent the next two hours planning. Assignments were shared again. Two new locations were being considered. One boy, barely sixteen, offered to lead a literacy group in his father's kiosk. No one mentioned Chuka again. It was as if the silence around his name had decided to become mercy.
Later that night, Uzo walked alone again. Past closed stalls and flickering streetlights. The roads had emptied early that evening. Something in the air made the city quiet. Not asleep. Just listening.
He passed a sleeping dog near an old tailor's shop, his sandals echoing softly against the pavement. His thoughts were not anxious, but searching. He had learned that silence wasn't always peace. Sometimes it was the storm breathing in.
He reached the corner of town where the old market had once burned. Years ago, it had been a busy place. Traders. Customers. Children chasing sticks. But after the fire, no one rebuilt it. Not fully. Just fragments. Like a wound that healed wrong.
He had heard whispers that the rival group planned a confrontation here. He did not come to fight. He came to see.
A boy stood by the tree, a bag in hand. Thin, tense, too young to carry so much on his face. When he saw Uzo, he stepped forward.
"They told me not to speak to you."
"Then why did you come?" Uzo asked.
The boy shrugged. "I just wanted to see if you were real."
"I am."
The boy studied him. "Are you not afraid?"
"Afraid of what?"
"They say your time is almost up. That people higher than you want this thing to end."
Uzo nodded. "Maybe it is. But before then, I still have breath. And with that breath, I will speak the truth."
The boy looked down. "They offered me something. They said I should report everything you people say. That I should send voice notes."
"And what did you say?"
"I told them I would think about it. But… I didn't know you looked like this. I thought you'd be loud. Or proud. But you look like… just somebody's uncle."
Uzo chuckled lightly. "That is all I am. Somebody's uncle. Somebody's son. Somebody's friend."
The boy was quiet again.
"Are you still thinking about taking the offer?" Uzo asked.
The boy looked at the bag in his hand. "My mum's shop was closed two weeks ago. We owe rent. I don't know what to do."
Uzo stepped closer, gently. "I cannot pay rent. I don't have what they have. But if you want to build, we can build together."
"Even if I almost betrayed you?"
"There is still time to choose again."
The boy said nothing more, but he did not walk away.
Uzo placed a hand briefly on his shoulder, then turned, walking back toward the dim lights of the street. The sound of distant drums floated through the air. Not a warning, but a memory.
Oku was still with him.
He could feel Him but not in the wind, not in the sky, but inside the decisions made when no one clapped. Inside the restraint when anger burned hot. Inside the mercy given when revenge looked sweet.
As he reached his street, he saw Darlington waiting near the gate. The boy who once stole cables. Now holding a notebook and looking restless.
"You didn't come for the meeting," Uzo said.
Darlington scratched his head. "I was going to. But I heard something. From someone. About Chuka."
Uzo didn't respond.
Darlington looked down. "They say he wasn't the one. That it was someone else, but they used his name. I think I know who it was."
Uzo nodded slowly. "Let us not spread fire where there's already smoke. When the truth comes, we'll face it with eyes open."
"So, we'll just act like it didn't happen?"
"No. But we will not fight like they expect. We will rise differently."
Darlington looked at him. "You really believe all this will work?"
"I don't just believe. I've seen it begin."
The boy gave a small nod.
"Go home," Uzo said. "Tomorrow is waiting."
As Darlington turned to leave, Uzo looked up again. A single lightning streak cut across the sky. The storm was finally ready.
And Uzo was not afraid.