The Student Organization Meeting Room (SOMR) at Rajawali High was a demilitarized zone. At least, that was its theoretical function. Located in the left wing of the main building, the room was soundproofed with glass walls and furnished with a massive mahogany round table rumored to cost more than the combined tuition of three scholarship students.
But this afternoon, that round table felt more like a boxing ring.
The wall clock showed 4:30 PM. The central AC hummed softly, trying to cool down the three gigantic egos sitting opposite each other. The tension in the air was so thick it could be sliced with a knife.
On the north side sat Udin. He was still in his school uniform, but the top button was undone, revealing a glimpse of a white undershirt soaked in sweat post-training. His rough, calloused hands were folded on the table. He was silent, staring straight ahead like a statue of a war general.
On the right side sat Raka, the Taekwondo Chairman. His appearance was a 180-degree contrast. He had changed into casual wear: a Supreme hoodie, expensive jogger pants, and hair styled neatly with pomade. He sat with his legs crossed, twirling the keys to his Honda Civic Turbo. His attitude was relaxed, dismissive, yet his eyes radiated sharp arrogance.
On the left side sat Amir, the Chairman of Pencak Silat. Amir had a smaller build compared to Udin or Raka, but he possessed an aura that was... slippery. He wore the black Silat team jacket with gold accents. He didn't look at his counterparts directly; instead, he was busy twisting a large agate ring on his finger. His movements were calm, like a snake coiling, waiting for prey.
The three of them had been summoned by the Student Council to discuss one crucial matter: The Schedule and Location Distribution for the Pre-Study Tour Joint Training.
"So," Raka broke the silence with a bored tone. He tossed a schedule proposal to the center of the table. "I think it's clear, right? Taekwondo needs the Main Hall every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday afternoon. We need the slippery parquet floor to practice spin kicks. Besides, the cheerleaders practice there too, so we can collaborate."
Udin glanced at the proposal without touching it. "The Main Hall is a rotational slot, Ka. Karate needs that space to lay down mats. Our Dojo in the GOR is being used as a temporary warehouse for the library renovation. You can't monopolize the Hall three days a week."
"Your Dojo became a warehouse because the school doesn't prioritize Karate, Din," Raka retorted sharply, smirking. "Be self-aware. Taekwondo brought home gold last year. What did Karate bring? Broken bones?"
"Watch your mouth," Udin growled. His voice was low, like the rumble of a diesel engine. "You got that gold because your opponent was disqualified. Not because you're skilled."
"Whoa, easy there, Big Brother," Amir suddenly interjected. His voice was smooth, his accent thick but venomous. "Don't fight over the Main Hall just yet. Silat needs a spot too. We wanted to use the back grass field, but rumor has it Taekwondo wants that for outdoor physical training. So greedy, Mr. Raka. Just because you're the golden child."
Raka turned to Amir, his gaze filled with disgust. "The back field? Go ahead, take it. That muddy place suits you guys who play by rolling around in the dirt. Primitive style."
Amir's eyes narrowed. The smile on his face didn't vanish, but his aura turned murderous. "Primitive? You call the nation's cultural art primitive? Careful with your words, Mas. Those long legs of yours might snap if they get tangled in our 'rolling around'."
"Try it if you can catch my leg," Raka challenged.
"Enough!" Udin slammed the table. The impact was hard, causing the flower vase in the center to tremble. "We're not here to show off moves. We're here to divide the schedule. The GOR is full, the Hall is being fought over. What's the solution?"
"The solution," Raka straightened his posture, staring at Udin sharply. "Karate yields. You guys use the outdoor basketball court. A little heat won't hurt, right? Since Karate is supposedly about 'tempering oneself'. Just consider it drying crackers in the sun."
Udin stood up. His chair was pushed back roughly. "You're really asking for a fight, Ka."
Raka stood up too, refusing to lose in height. His lanky posture was slightly taller than Udin, but Udin's shoulders were far broader. "So what if I am? You want to kumite right here? I'm game."
Amir chuckled. He remained seated, but his hand had slipped inside his jacket, as if hiding something. "Oh my, oh my. Two elephants about to brawl. The mouse deer will just watch while sipping coffee."
The tension reached its peak. Raka stepped forward, puffing out his chest. Udin clenched his fists. The veins in Udin's neck bulged. This was no longer about schedules. This was about pride accumulated over three years. Taekwondo always pampered with facilities, Karate always treated like a stepchild, and Silat always looked down upon as "villager martial arts."
"You think your spin kicks work at this range?" Udin hissed, their faces only a hand's breadth apart.
"I don't need to kick to drop you," Raka replied, his hand moving fast trying to shove Udin's shoulder.
However, before Raka's hand touched Udin, a lightning-fast movement occurred.
Amir, who was sitting casually just a second ago, was suddenly standing between them. His left hand held Raka's wrist in a subtle yet deadly lock, while his right hand pressed a nerve point on Udin's shoulder.
"Patience, Bros," Amir whispered. His eyes were no longer smiling. His gaze was empty and cold. "If you trash this room, the Principal won't be the only one angry. The 'Queen Mother' will go on a rampage too."
Udin and Raka froze. Amir's lock on Raka looked light, but Raka winced holding back pain in his wrist. Amir's Silat wasn't a joke. He mastered joint manipulation techniques.
"Let go of me, Mir," Raka growled, trying to pull his hand back but to no avail.
"Sit down first. We talk with brains, not muscles. Have some shame for the uniform," Amir said, then released both of them with a small shove.
The three of them sat back down, their breathing heavy. The atmosphere was still heated, but at least a mass brawl was prevented.
"I still won't accept Karate being put in the basketball court," Udin said firmly, after calming down. "My mats will get ruined on hot asphalt. I need an indoor space."
"And I don't want to share the Hall with you," Raka replied stubbornly. "The smell of Karate sweat sticks to the curtains. It grosses out the cheerleaders."
"The smell issue can be managed," Amir said casually. "The problem is your egos. How about this, we play Rock-Paper-Scissors. Winner gets the Hall."
"Rock-Paper-Scissors your dad's head!" Raka snapped. "This is about prestige, not gambling!"
Just as Raka shouted, the double doors of the meeting room swung open wide.
A cold wind from the corridor blew in, bringing with it absolute silence. The sound of footsteps was heard. Click. Click. Click. The rhythm of women's loafers, firm and measured.
Enter Salma.
The Student Council President.
Behind her trailed her two deputies, Dimas and Adel, carrying stacks of files. But no one paid attention to them. All eyes were on Salma.
The girl didn't have a large build. She didn't have muscles like Udin, didn't have the height like Raka, and didn't have the cunning of Amir. But the moment she entered, her leadership aura suppressed the entire room. Her gaze behind thin-framed glasses was razor-sharp. Her hair was tied neatly, her uniform flawless, and the armband reading "PRESIDENT" on her left arm seemed to radiate absolute authority.
"I heard shouting all the way to the Teacher's Lounge," Salma said softly. Her voice was flat, emotionless, but it made even the arrogant Raka reflexively fix his sitting posture.
Salma walked to the head of the table, placing a blue folder there. She didn't sit. She stood, looking at each of the tribal chiefs before her.
"Udin. Raka. Amir," Salma called. "Are you here to solve the schedule problem, or to add to my problems?"
"Raka started it, Sal," Udin defended himself. "He wants to monopolize the Hall."
"I'm not monopolizing, I'm speaking facts based on achievements!" Raka interrupted.
"Achievements?" Salma cut him off with one word. Her gaze shifted to Raka. "Your achievements this year dropped 15% in the regional championship, Raka. The performance evaluation report is on my desk. Too much style, too little training. And you demand premium facilities?"
Raka's face turned beet red. He wanted to argue, but Salma held the data. Fighting Salma with empty arguments was suicide.
Salma turned to Udin. "And you, Udin. You said mats get ruined outside? Your Karate mats are heavy-duty. The real reason you don't want to be outside is because you're embarrassed for the basketball kids to see you doing those boring basic drills, right?"
Udin fell silent, checkmate. Salma knew too much.
"And Amir," Salma looked at the Silat chairman. "Don't think I don't know you secretly rent out the Silat equipment room as a smoking spot for the 11th graders. I'm considering freezing your club's permit if that happens again."
Amir's sly smile vanished instantly. His face went pale. "Miss Salma... that's slander..."
"CCTV never slanders, Amir," Salma cut him off coldly.
Salma opened her blue folder. She took a pen and signed a piece of paper with quick movements.
"This is the final decision from the Student Council. No negotiations," Salma said, sliding the paper to the center of the table.
The three of them craned their necks to see the contents.
* Monday & Wednesday: Main Hall for Karate (3:00 PM – 5:00 PM). Taekwondo uses Indoor Basketball Court (alternating with Basketball team).
* Tuesday & Thursday: Main Hall for Taekwondo. Karate in GOR Right Wing (shared with Warehouse, clean it yourselves).
* Friday: Silat uses Main Hall Full Day (Due to Friday Prayers, fewer people train).
* Saturday: Main Hall used Jointly for Pre-Study Tour preparation.
"Fair?" Salma asked, though her tone implied it was a rhetorical question.
Raka read the schedule. He didn't get a monopoly, but at least he got the Hall for two days. Udin grunted, he had to clean a warehouse, but at least he got the Hall for two days too. Amir smiled wryly, Friday was a short day, but at least he wasn't kicked out to the muddy field.
"If anyone wants to protest," Salma continued while packing her files, "Please submit a resignation letter as Club Chairman. I have ten replacement candidates for each of your positions who are ready to work without drama."
Silence. No one dared to answer.
"Good. Meeting adjourned," Salma concluded. She turned and walked out of the room as fast as she came, followed by her deputies.
The door closed again.
The three warriors were left sitting there, silenced by the power of a girl who couldn't even break a brick with her bare hands.
"Crazy..." Raka finally muttered, leaning back in his chair. His arrogance faded for a moment. "What does that girl eat? Magnets?"
"She doesn't eat magnets," Amir replied, twisting his agate ring again. "She eats people's mental states. Scary, man. Scarier than my Cimande moves."
Udin sighed deeply, taking the schedule paper. He folded it and put it in his pocket.
"At least we got certainty," Udin said as he stood up. He looked at Raka and Amir alternately. "Remember the Saturday schedule. Joint training. Don't be late."
"Yeah, yeah, Nag," Raka waved his hand, standing up and walking out first. "Watch out, Din. This Saturday I'll prove Taekwondo is superior."
"Keep dreaming," Udin replied.
Amir stood up last, patting Udin's shoulder lightly. "Din, be careful with Raka. He's cunning, but his cunning is rough. Me... my cunning is smooth. Don't let your guard down, Kang Mas."
Amir winked, then strolled away with soundless steps.
Udin remained alone in the meeting room. He stared at the empty chair Salma had sat in.
There was deep respect in Udin's heart for the Student Council President. Salma was the only person in this school—besides Salim—who could make Udin bow without having to hit him. The power of logic and authority.
Salma has brains. Raka has speed. Amir has cunning, Udin thought. And me... I only have this hard body.
Udin clenched his fist again, feeling the calluses on his knuckles.
If someday, who knows when, the school laws collapse and Salma's authority no longer applies... who would win among the three of us?
The question hung in the air, an inexplicable bad omen. Udin turned off the meeting room lights, leaving the room in darkness. He didn't know that this debate about the Hall schedule was their last exercise in diplomacy.
Because at their destination later, there would be no Hall, no mats, and no referee. There would only be sand, blood, and one absolute rule: Kill or be Killed. And when that time came, Udin hoped his "hard body" would be enough to protect the friends he cherished.