Part- 360:

  For a moment, it looked like Abbas might hold his ground. He gritted his teeth, pnting his feet firmly o, his hands log onto Rocky’s gi. But the differen their strength was like night and day. Rocky’s grip felt like iron, and with a swift, devastating movement, he shifted his weight and yanked Abbas off-bance.

  Before Abbas could react, Rocky twisted his hips and unched him through the air in a textbook **harai-goshi**—a powerful hip sweep. Abbas hit the mat with a botling thud, the breath knocked out of him. The crowd groaned, and the referee’s hand shot up to award **ippon**—the highest score for a perfect throw. Mohammadpur High erupted in cheers.

  Abbas grunted as he rolled onto his side, trying to push himself up. The entire exge had sted mere seds, but it felt like a lifetime to him. The sting of frustration burned hotter than the ache in his body.

  “Damn it,” Abbas muttered under his breath, smming a fist into the mat. “I couldn’t even slow him down...”

  On the sidelines, Banani’s team shifted uneasily. James ched his jaw, his eyes narrowing at the ease with which Rocky had manhandled Abbas. This wasn’t just a loss—it was a statement. Mohammadpur wasn’t going to let anyone breathe, not even for a sed.

  Coach Gin was the first to approach Abbas as he sat at the edge of the mat, rubbing his shoulder. The coaelt beside him, his voice calm but firm. “It’s not about winning every fight. It’s about winning the right ones. Shake it off.”

  Abbas shook his head, still fuming. “How am I supposed to shake that off, Coach? He threw me around like I was nothing.”

  Gin’s haed heavily on Abbas’ shoulder. “And? He’s bigger, stronger. Everyone knows that. But judo isn’t just about size or brute strength.” The coach’s voice softened, but only slightly. “It’s about endurahis match was just the start. We still have six more fights to go.”

  Abbas exhaled slowly, trying to steady his breathing. He hated losing, especially in such a decisive way. But he khe coach was right—there was no room for wallowing now.

  From the sideline, **Ryan** gave Abbas a reassuring nod. “Don’t sweat it. That guy’s a freaking tank. You did what you could.”

  Abbas managed a weak grin. “Yeah, well, if you want to go fight him, be my guest.”

  Ryan smirked. “Maybe ter. For now, just rest up. We’ll get them back.”

  Meanwhile, Rocky sauntered baohammadpur’s side of the mat, greeted by high-fives and sps on the back from his teammates. He wore a satisfied grin, flexing his shoulders as if to remind everyohat he was still the undisputed king of the heavyweight division.

  “That all Banani’s got?” Rocky called out, loud enough for the whole gym to hear. “I barely even broke a sweat!”

  James shot him a sharp look but kept his mouth shut. There would be time to respond—o. **Jel**, standing beside Rocky, caught James’ gnd smirked knowingly. The real mind games had only just begun.

  Coach Gin cpped his hands, snapping Banani’s team back to attention. “Focus. We khis first match would be tough. But this isn’t over. Rocky got his win—so what? The match is ours.”

  Abbas let out a slow breath, nodding. “Yeah,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “ime.”