Part- 369:
“Hey, if I ’t eain the crowd while being a better fighter, what’s the point?” James tered, still in high spirits.
“, you’ll be asking them to throw pies at you instead of punches,” Ryan joked, gesturing to the spectators. “Imagihat! ‘James, the Judo edian,’ starring in ‘The Art of Pie Dodging.’”
As they tiheir pyful exge, Ryan threw a series of rapid jabs, each more exaggerated tha. James blocked them all, his fidence s. It was like a game nounch a challenge he eagerly met.
Finally, after several rounds of this ridiculous “training,” James caught his breath, leaning against the wall with a broad grin. “I think I’m getting the hang of this.”
“Yeah, but it’s still the weirdest thing I’ve seen in a tour,” Ryan replied, chug as he shook his head in disbelief. “What’s ? You want to try dodging flying shuriken?”
“Only if you promise to throw them!” James shot back, ughter bubbling up as he imagihe ridiculous se.
Just then, one of the referees approached them, looking slightly bemused. “Um, you two do realize this is a tour, right? Not a edy show?”
James fshed a cheeky smile. “Just unlog some skills! Don’t mind us.”
The referee shook his head, a smirk pying on his lips. “Just make sure you save the theatrics for ter. You’ve still got matches to win.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” James replied, waving him off pyfully. “Just thought I’d give the crowd a little eai.”
With that, the duo prepared for the phase of their journey iour, blending their petitive spirit with the humor of their antics—a bination that left the crowd in stitches ahe stage for what was to e.
The energy in the room was electric as the teams prepared for the final match. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, the tension palpable in the air. **Dipa**, the st-minute substitute for the Banani High Judo Club, stood on the edge of the mat, her heart pounding in her chest. Nervous but determined, she took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her.
As she stepped onto the mat, the crowd erupted into cheers, their enthusiasm resonating throughout the arena. It was a sea of faces—friends, family, and supporters—eae eager to see their team cim victory. Dipa sed the crowd, her eyes nding oeammates, including **James**, **Ryan**, **Nabi**, and the rest. Their smiles and encing nods bolstered her fidence, remindihat she was not alone in this fight.
Across from her, her oppo stood poised and ready. The irl, a seasoned middleweight from **Mohammadpur High**, wore a fident smile that did little to ease Dipa’s nerves. She had faced her share of battles, and Dipa knew she wouldn’t be easy to take down. The referee called them to the ter, and as they bowed to each other, Dipa felt a flicker of determination ighin her.
The match began, and Dipa’s instincts kicked in. She fought with speed and teique, her movements graceful as she dodged and grappled with preemories of her training flooded back to her—tless hours spent practig throws, holds, and escapes. But as the match wore on, her exhaustion became evident. The girl opposite her had more experience, more stamina, and Dipa felt the toll of each passing minute.
