Part- 361:

  Gin stood, signaling to the referee that they were ready for the bout. “Stay sharp, everyone,” he warned, looking at each of them in turn. “It’s only just begun.”

  The scoreboard now read:

  **Banani High 0 - Mohammadpur High 1**

  As Abbas stood and made his way off the mat, James gave him a pat on the back. “You’ll get another shot,” James said quietly. “Just wait.”

  Abbas offered a half-hearted smile. “Yeah. And when I do, I’m going to put that guy through the floor.”

  The rest of the team chuckled, the tension easing slightly. But everyone khe reality—they were up against giants. And if they wao win, they would o be more than just good.

  They would have to be perfect.

  The tension in the gym was mounting as **Keya** stepped onto the mat for the sed-round match. Her expression was calm, but everyone on Banani’s team could see the flicker of nervousness in her eyes. Across from her stood a slim, agile oppo from **Mohammadpur High**, her stance low and dangerous, like a coiled spring ready to strike. Keya took a deep breath and adjusted her belt o time before bowing. The referee’s whistle blew, and the match was on.

  Keya opened with a quick feint, stepping to the side to get her oppo off bance. But her oppo anticipated the move, shifting her weight effortlessly and closing the gap. Before Keya could react, she felt a pair of hands seize her sleeve and colr in a strong grip. She twisted, trying to free herself, but her oppo's movements were too precise. With a lightning-fast sweep, Keya was thrown off her feet.

  The impact against the mat was loud, and the referee’s hand shot up, signaling an **ippon**—a throw that ehe match. Keya winced as she y o for a moment, more from disappoihan pain. She had been outmaneuvered, her oppo’s speed and teique proving superior.

  The crowd cheered for the Mohammadpur fighter, and the scoreboard updated with an ominous click.

  **Score:** 0-2

  Keya got up slowly, dusting herself off and bowing again out of respect. As she walked off the mat, she avoided her teammates’ gazes. It wasn’t that they bmed her—everyone knew she had done her best. But the weight of starting the tour with two secutive losses was heavy. Keya sat on the bench, her face set in a frustrated frown, gripping her kightly.

  The atmosphere on Banani’s side of the gym was heavy with tension. They needed a win, or the match would spiral out of their trol.

  Coach Gin’s expression was calm but sharp as he studied the fighters. "Nabi, you're up," he said quietly, giving her a small nod.

  Nabi stood up, a steely resolve hardening in her gaze. There wasn’t much fanfare as she walked to the mat—she didn’t . With her long bck hair tied into a tight bun and a no-nonsense demeanor, Nabi looked like she was ready to handle business.

  Her oppo was a bulky girl with a reputation fressive grappling. As soon as the referee sighe start, the oppo lunged forward, hoping to overwhelm Nabi with brute force. But Nabi stayed calm.