Part- 355:
Just as they reached the medical station, Sourov’s heart sank further. **“How do I face my teammates now? How do I look them in the eye when I ’t even face myself?”**
James squeezed Sourov’s shoulder gently, grounding him. “We’re here for you, no matter what,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re not alone in this.”
For a moment, Sourov let the warmth of James’s words wash over him. But doubt still g him, relentless. **“I fought so hard, but was it enough?”**
In the back of his mind, he khat this battle, though won, might e at a cost far greater than any physical injury.
---
**As he ced on the examination table, he looked up at the ceiling and thought, “I just wao be someone who made a difference.”** And for now, all he felt was emptiness, the realization that sometimes, the fiercest battles are fought within ourselves.
And in that silehe battle raged on.
The gym buzzed with tension as Banani High’s judo team huddled around the mat, sweat glistening on their skin, their bodies tight with anticipation. The faint hum of the lights and the distant sound of footsteps outside barely registered in their minds. For these athletes, nothied outside this room—not the noise, not the world beyond. It was the eve of the biggest event of their lives: the national finals.
Coach **Gin** stood at the ter of the room, arms crossed, his sharp gaze sweeping across his team like a hawk searg for any sign of weakness. His broad frame seemed unmovable, radiating authority and experiehe coach was known to be fair but brutal when it came to discipline—and today, there was no room for mistakes.
“Who’s iell me now!” Coach Gin’s voice echoed through the gym like a thundercp, sileng the faint murmurs among the group. His eyes narrowed. “If I find out ter, you’re banned from the judo club forever!”
His words carried the weight of more than just a threat—they were a challenge, daring ao fess. The pyers shifted uneasily, some gng at each other from the ers of their eyes. Banani High had e too far, and each athlete khis wasn’t just about medals or personal pride. It was about legacy, about writing their names in the school’s history. No one wao be the weak link—the oo shatter that dream.
The absence of **Sourov**, their heavyweight powerhouse, was a heavy shadow hanging over the team. He was in the hospital, nursing the injury he’d sustained in the semi-finals—a torn hamstring that made it impossible for him to stand, let alone pete. The thought of losing him stung like salt in a wound, but they had no choice but to move forward without him.
Coach Gin’s gaze hardened as the silence dragged on. “I won’t ask again.” His voice was low, but it rumbled like an approag storm, promising sequences if aried to hide the truth.
Finally, **Tisha** took a step forward, her expression filled with a mix of guilt and shame. “I’m not injured, Coach... but I’m exhausted,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. Her shoulders slumped uhe invisible weight of the st few weeks of releraining. “I don’t know if I have the strength to win.”
