Stepping closer to the bed, Helios reached out, running his fingers gently through Poseidon's wavy hair. His voice was quiet but heavy with emotion. "Today's the day, Poseidon. You've been asleep for too long. We're ready now. Ready, to head to the stadium for the semi-finals, and we'll win. So, hang on. Hang on tight."
Carefully, he took Poseidon's hand, mindful of the IV drip. His grip was firm, reassuring, "Don't worry. Mom, Dad, Aunt Sara, Sehan, Aunt Kinza, your father… They're all here for you. You're not alone. So don't be afraid…" His voice cracked, tears escaping down his face.
Memories flooded his mind like a crashing tide—the first time they met, the first time he saw Poseidon cry, the day Poseidon called him his brother, the countless hours spent studying, practicing, and winning together. The victories they had shared in past Inter-Academy Nationals—all of it came rushing back.
Lucifer placed a hand on Helios's back, grounding him. Helios inhaled sharply, wiping his tears away. Steeling himself, he placed his hand underneath Poseidon's, and one by one, the others followed until Poseidon's hand rested atop theirs.
"Let this be a lesson," Helios declared, his voice steady, his violet eyes burning with determination, defiance, with boundless hope, "A daunting step we are bound to conquer. For Poseidon, for us, for our parents, for our academy, for our cricket society, for our friends today, tomorrow, and forever and, for everyone who believes in us, let's win the Inter-Academy Nationals. Let's achieve the impossible and break the limits not yet set."
"Yes!!" they all went together.
Unbeknownst to them, Poseidon's lashes trembled, a faint smile forming on his lips. His mind was heavy, his body too weak to move, his voice lost in the silence. Yet, their words were like an unbreakable promise which engraved themselves in his thoughts, shining like a lantern piercing through a dark cave. With that warmth lingering, he drifted into the depths of unconsciousness once more.
With that, the boys stepped out of the hospital, never looking back. Their gazes were sharp, their goals set, the path ahead unfolding with every step. It was time to fight.
____
As they arrived at the stadium, the air buzzed with an electric energy, an invigorating sight that set their blood alight. Ezekiel, Helios, and the others followed Coach Zavian toward their pavilion.
The field was ready. Their opponents stood waiting. The toss was moments away. Helios set his gear bag aside, glancing at his teammates. They nodded, already warming up, their focus unwavering.
Reaching into his bag, Helios pulled out his headband and tied it in place. As his hair was pushed back, his sharp violet eyes were revealed, cold, daring, brimming with tenacity. His gaze swept over the stadium, scanning, scrutinizing, until it landed on a familiar figure.
There, in the front row of the opposite dugout, one leg lazily propped over the other, sat a figure as composed as ever. His silver-grey hair, middle-parted, tousled slightly by the wind. A hand rested against his jaw, his face tilted slightly, an unmistakable, king-like, all-knowing grin playing on his lips. His deep, royal blue eyes shimmered with amusement, locking onto Helios' thundering violet gaze.
Helios stared. Then, exhaling softly, he stepped onto the field, his voice barely above a whisper. "We meet again, Kenzo ShahJahan… What a small world it is." From across the field, Kenzo smirked, stepping forward to enter the challenge.
---
The floodlights bathed the stadium in a brilliant glow as Ezekiel took his stance. The bowler charged in, the ball whistling through the air. Ezekiel exhaled, then swung. A sharp crack echoed as the ball raced past point. Cheers erupted as he sprinted for the first run…
Meanwhile, in the stark white corridors of the hospital, the clock ticked away with an eerie slowness. The red "In Surgery" sign above the double doors glowed ominously, casting a shadow over the worried figures waiting outside. Karin pressed her hands together, whispering silent prayers. Sehan sat frozen, his fingers digging into his arms…
Back in the stadium, Mirza readied himself at the non-striker's end. Ezekiel adjusted his gloves. Another delivery. A bouncer. He ducked just in time, feeling the rush of air against his helmet. His grip tightened. No hesitation. No fear…
Inside the operating room, the rhythmic beeping of Poseidon's heart monitor filled the silence. Sahil's voice was calm but firm, "Scalpel." Gloved hands moved swiftly, precision honed by years of experience. Every incision, every second, held Poseidon's life in its grasp…
Helios observed the batsman from the pavilion, sweat formed his forehead as his heartbeat pounded in his ears, loud, too loud. Was it the match, or was it something else? He didn't know. But he couldn't afford to be distracted. Every second counted. Every ball ready to decide the outcome…
At that very moment, the heart monitor let out a shrill beep. A pause. A falter. A moment where time itself seemed to stop…
On the field, the bowler sprinted in again. Mirza's eyes locked onto the ball. He stepped forward. A clean straight six struck powerfully, relentlessly. The ball soared toward the commentators stand. The stadium exploding in cheers.
At the same time, in the hospital, the heart monitor steadied. A slow, rhythmic beep echoed through the tense room. Layla gasped softly, pressing a hand to her chest. Sahil and the surgeons let out a breath. "He's stabilizing," Sahil whispered.
Ezekiel eyed the scoreboard. Still not enough. He wanted to set a target so colossal, so terrifying, that the opposing team would crumble under its weight. Rolling his shoulders, he stepped back into position, ready to unleash havoc.
And just like that, the game continued. The surgery pressed on. Two battles unfolding in different worlds, yet bound by the same fate.
…
The match at its climax, the last three balls of the final over. Helios wiped the sweat from his brow, gripping the ball tightly. His fingers curled around the seam, calculating every possibility.
Four runs needed. One wicket remaining.
The entire game had been a battle of inches, a relentless back-and-forth, but now it all came down to this. Kenzo ShahJahan at the crease, unwavering, from the fourth position on his team's batting line, to the last one standing. His dark royal blue eyes glinting under the floodlights.
Kenzo twirled his bat, gaze locked onto Helios. The challenge between them had long transcended mere competition. This was personal. A rivalry etched between the two for the past two years.
Helios inhaled sharply and sprinted in, his body a blur, the ball soaring from his fingers, a lethal inswinging Yorker, aimed straight for the base of the stumps.
Kenzo stepped forward, barely a heartbeat to react. A flicker of hesitation, then a shift— a deft wrist movement, a lightning-fast adjustment. Crack! The sound of leather meeting wood sent shockwaves through the field.
The ball rocketed past mid-on, skimming the grass like a bullet. The crowd gasped. The fielders gave chase, but it was futile. The boundary rope trembled as the ball crashed into it.
Four runs. Game over.
For a second, there was silence, then an explosion of cheers. Kenzo stood frozen, bat still in the air, chest rising and falling. Slowly, he lowered his bat and turned toward Helios, a smirk creeping onto his face.
Helios clenched his jaw, his violet eyes locked onto Kenzo's. His body ached, his breath was ragged, but even through the sting of defeat, he felt it. The fire, the anger, the thrill. With Kenzo before him, he had always felt it.
Kenzo tilted his head, an almost teasing glint in his gaze, "Close, Helios. But not enough."
Helios exhaled sharply, a slow, dangerous smirk playing at his lips, "Not enough? Consider yourself lucky..." But even as the words left his mouth, he felt it, his mind reeling, his breath uneven. They had lost. The victory in third consecutive finals were gone, slipping through his fingers. Countless strategies, endless possibilities, yet none had come to him when they mattered most.
Kenzo sensing the shift in his expression, stepped forward, extending a hand.
Helios' grip on the ball tightened, knuckles turning white. His glare was sharp, his frustration etched into every fiber of his being. But Kenzo stood firm, his unwavering gaze meeting Helios' without hesitation.
They were both leaders. They knew what they had given, what they had fought for and what they had achieved.
Kenzo's voice was steady, "You didn't lose, Helios Zadeh…"
Helios' fingers twitched.
"You were simply carrying too much," Kenzo added.
Helios' breath hitched, but Kenzo continued, his conviction unshaken, "Your team gave us the toughest fight before the finals, there's no denying that. Even if I had to argue with the world about it, I would."
Helios exhaled, his aura still rigid, but his expression lightened slightly.
Kenzo's voice softened, his hand still extended, "But no doubt, something was missing today. And I know how important that something is."
Helios swallowed hard, his mind flashing to Poseidon. The surgery. The thought of it all pressed down on him. He exhaled, "We… accept defeat, Kenzo ShahJahan."
Kenzo's grin widened, "Like I said, you weren't defeated. You were just carrying too much. That's not the same as losing. As for 'something important' that's missing…"
Then, without another word, Kenzo reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He dialed a number.
Helios narrowed his gaze, confused.
Once the call connected, Kenzo spoke, "I want a HiAce waiting at the stadium gate in a few minutes. Once you reach the hospital, stay with the boys, don't leave them until everything settles, am I clear?"
A second's pause for a response, then Kenzo grinned. Snapping his phone shut, he smirked, "Go… get him back on the field."