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  Part- 347:

  Sourov nodded but said nothing. His khrobbed beh the bandages, and every moveme like a reminder of the impossible task ahead. How was he supposed to win against someone like Jiko, the captain of Badda High—a fighter known for his sharp teiques and killer instincts? The whispers of his previous losses against Jiko haunted him.

  Nabi chimed ione light but determined. “Sourov, you’re our best bet. And if it makes you feel aer, that dude Jiko? I saw him struggle in the quarterfinals. You’ve got him.”

  Sourov shot her a gnce, appreciatitempt at encement, but it still felt like everyone utting too much faith in him. Too much faith. The idea of letting them down ed his insides.

  In the er, Dipa sat quietly, the exge. Somethi off about Sourov. His reas were too muted, his ughs forced, his gaze distant. She noticed how he kept shifting unfortably, adjusting the on his knee over and over—far more than he normally would. It wasn’t just nerves. Dipa knew something was wrong with him, but she held her tongue. What if pointing it out makes everything worse? What if it’s just awkward?

  She ched her fists on her p, biting her lip. This wasn’t the time to create doubt ieam. She would stay quiet for now, but the uneasy feeling g her.

  Coach Gin approached, g his hands to get the team’s attention. “Alright, everyone, listen up!” His sharp voice cut through the tension like a bde. “Sourov, this is your moment. Keep your stance wide, watch his shoulders—Jiko’s fast with throws, but you outpower him. Don’t give him space to breathe.”

  Save a curt nod, but his jaw ched tightly. The throbbing pain in his knee felt more present than ever. He adjusted the bandages o time, wing as he pulled them tight.

  Zia k beside him, his usual joking demeanor repced by . “Hey, are you sure about this? We get Abbas to—”

  “No,” Sourov cut him off sharply, his eyes fshing. “I’ve got this.”

  James leaned in closer. “Just... don’t kill yourself out there, alright? You’ve got nothing to prove to us.”

  Sourov didn’t reply, merely James a small nod that veyed more defiahan gratitude. A flicker of surprise crossed his face as he wondered why James would say such a thing. How could James possibly know about his injury? It didn’t make sense; he had kept that information to himself and Zia.

  In truth, James's ent stemmed from a different observation altogether. He had noticed a marked disparity between Sourov's strength and Jiko's, a differehat was hard to ignore.

  Nabi added with a teasing smile, “Besides, we’ll still be your friends even if you lose. Well... most of us.” She shot Ryan a mischievous look.

  Ryan grinned. “Yeah, I might unfriend you for a day. But only a day, tops.”

  Sourov chuckled—this time, the ugh was real. For a brief moment, the heavy weight in his chest lightened, but the reality of the fight remained inescapable.

  The referee’s whistle pierced the air, signaling the start of the final bout. Sourov's name was called.

  “Time to shine,” James said softly, patting Sourov on the back.

  Ryan gave him a thumbs-up. “Go out there and make history, dude.”