Part- 362:

  Like a wave folding under pressure, she let her oppo e to her, using a well-practiced teique known as **seoi-nage**—a shoulder throw. The moment the oppo’s bance shifted, Nabi twisted sharply, throwing her oppo over her shoulder in a seamless motion.

  The croed. Her oppo hit the mat with a loud thud, and the referee’s hand shot up, signaling another **ippon**. The fight was over in a fsh.

  Banani’s side of the gym erupted into cheers. Nabi stood tall, bowing once before turning to walk back to her team with a small, satisfied smile. Keya gave her a grateful pat on the back as she passed, and the atmosphere on the Banani bench lightened just a little.

  **Score:** 1-2

  Coach Gin gave Nabi a rare nod of approval. "Well done."

  Nabi sat dowing out a slow breath. Her victory didn’t undo the earlier losses, but it gave Banani hope. They weren’t out of the fight just yet.

  With the score standing at 1-2, the pressure now shifted to **Zia**, the team’s lightweight fighter. Despite his small frame, Zia was known for his tenacity. He adjusted his gi, his face grim as he approached the mat. His oppo was a t figure—much rger and physically stronger, with a reputation for overwhelming his oppos through sheer power.

  Zia khe odds were against him, but he didn’t back down. As the referee gave the signal, Zia exploded into a, hoping to catch his oppo off guard with speed. He circled, feinti and right, searg for an opening. But his oppo atient, staying grounded and waiting for the right moment to strike.

  Then it happened. Zia saportunity—a brief pse in his oppo’s stance. He darted in, grabbing the pel and trying to execute an irip. But his oppo tered with brutal efficy, using his superior strength to lift Zia off the ground.

  For a brief moment, Zia felt weightless in the air, and then—*bam!*—he was smmed onto the mat with a force that khe wind out of him. The crowd roared as the referee raised his hand, awarding another victory to Mohammadpur.

  **Score:** 1-3

  Zia y o, gasping for breath. His mind raced, frustration bubbling inside him like a volo ready to erupt. He had fought hard, but it hadn’t been enough. For a moment, he stayed on the ground, fists ched, his jaw tight with anger.

  Finally, he got up, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from screaming. He gave a stiff bow to his oppo and stormed off the mat.

  As Zia reached the bench, he smmed his fist against the floor in frustration, the sound eg through the gym. His teammates watched in silence, knowier than to try to sole him. But the boiling anger inside Zia refused to settle. With a furious kick, he sent a nearby water table cttering to the ground, the bottles scattering across the floor.

  “Damn it!” Zia growled through gritted teeth, his fists trembling. “I only mao wich out of four! I’ve failed the team.”

  Ryan, who had been watg quietly, stood up and walked over to Zia. Without a word, he pced a reassuring hand on Zia’s shoulder, squeezing it firmly. “Don’t worry,” Ryan said with quiet fidence. “I’ve got this.”