Alejandro turned nine during the rainy season, when the earth softened and mistakes became costly. Slippery ground punished careless movement, and swollen streams reshaped familiar paths. To Alejandro, it was not an inconvenience—it was an education.
His games evolved again. No longer simple exercises of defense, they became tests of command under pressure. Alejandro began issuing instructions before situations unfolded, predicting how weather and terrain would alter outcomes. He taught the children to observe clouds, to feel the wind shift, to listen for water moving beneath foliage.
One afternoon, he divided the group unevenly—placing himself with fewer children. When questioned, he answered calmly, "Numbers are not advantage if they cannot move."
As rain began to fall, the larger group advanced loudly, confident in their size. Alejandro's smaller unit withdrew slowly, forcing pursuit into muddied ground. When the attackers slipped and lost formation, Alejandro countered, capturing their markers without confrontation.
Afterward, he gathered everyone and explained each decision. "I did not win because I was clever," he said. "I won because I prepared before the rain came."
The lesson struck deep.
What distinguished Alejandro now was not merely foresight, but clarity under stress. When arguments arose, he addressed them quickly. When confusion spread, he simplified orders. He never raised his voice, yet his words carried weight.
The elders began assigning him real responsibilities. He was asked to help organize fishing rotations, to assist in guarding supply huts at night, to relay information between families. These were small tasks—but they were trust.
Don Emilio observed silently. One night, he spoke plainly. "You do not command by fear. That is rare."
Alejandro nodded. "Fear makes people careless."
In his memories of another life, he recalled battlefield chaos caused by unclear orders and panicked leaders. He remembered how discipline saved lives more often than courage alone.
At nine, Alejandro learned the most dangerous truth of leadership: people listen even when you are wrong. That knowledge forced him to slow down, to doubt himself, to verify before deciding.
Standing beneath the rain-soaked eaves of his home, Alejandro felt the weight of invisible ranks behind him—followers not yet born, battles not yet fought.
He accepted that weight without complaint