By the time Alejandro turned seven, play in the village had changed—at least for those who followed him. Games were no longer loud chaos. Under Alejandro's quiet direction, they became exercises in awareness, coordination, and restraint.
He never called them battles. Instead, he framed them as challenges: protect this path, deliver a message without being seen, hold ground until sunset. Sticks became rifles, stones became supply points, and trees marked boundaries that could not be crossed without consequence. What seemed like childish imagination was, in truth, structured training.
Alejandro began grouping children not by strength, but by temperament. The impatient ones were placed where quick action was needed. The cautious ones became watchers. Those who listened well were given responsibility. When mistakes happened—and they often did—Alejandro stopped the game and explained calmly why something failed.
"If you rush," he said once, "you reveal yourself. If you shout, you lose control."
Some children resisted. They wanted to win quickly, to charge and overwhelm. Alejandro let them try. When they lost repeatedly to smaller, quieter groups, they began to listen.
The elders noticed. What unsettled them was not that the boy organized others—but that he taught without cruelty. He never humiliated mistakes. He corrected them.
One afternoon, a mock game went wrong when a boy slipped and hurt his leg. Alejandro halted everything immediately. He reassigned roles, sent for help, and kept the others calm. Later, as the injured boy recovered, Alejandro adjusted future exercises to prevent similar accidents.
That night, Don Emilio spoke seriously to his son. "Leadership invites danger. People will follow you into harm."
Alejandro met his father's gaze. "Then I must make sure they come back."
In his past-life memories, he remembered commanders who treated soldiers as expendable. He remembered funerals, flags, and regret. Even now, as a child, he refused to repeat those failures.
At seven, Alejandro learned that war—even in play—was not about victory alone. It was about control, foresight, and responsibility for others.