But it was already over. Kian and Zidan had found him, grinning like innocent gremlins with sugar highs. "Hi! Let's play," they chimed in unison.
Adam's eyes widened as he was yanked out of hiding and flung into a spontaneous, off-beat dance routine.
"We're their public mascots," Ezekiel said, dead inside as Pierre tried to braid his long hair mid-chaos, "I have finally lost my sanity."
"Who told you to grow hair like a shampoo ad?" Pierre teased, "How are you even gonna bat with this mess?"
"That's my problem, not—OW!" Ezekiel winced as Pierre tugged again.
Pierre laughed wickedly, "It became our problem the moment your name showed up on the candidates list, illusionist."
Xavier, Poseidon, Helios, and Seraph burst out laughing as the younger Karachi players scrambled for cover, ducking behind taller teammates, benches, water coolers, even the scoreboard if it meant escape. But against the Multan middle school squad, resistance was futile.
"Chaos again, I suppose?" Galleous chuckled, now standing calmly beside Helios.
Helios smiled, watching the chaos unfold like a spectator at the theatre, "Chaos, indeed."
Just then. "Seraph, Gabriel" Isa called. The two turned to him attentive.
"Come," Isa called stepping inside the pitch.
On the field, Evan, Rauf, Elias and Kazuna waited as Isa walked slowly toward the pitch beside Seraph and Gabriel, their spikes brushing against the slightly damp, freshly rolled grass.
The scent of wet earth and clay lingered in the air. Quetta's signature after a few days of unexpected rain. The sky above was a soft, dull grey, with low-hanging clouds that threatened to stick around.
Isa crouched down first, running his fingers gently over the pitch, feeling the slightly tacky surface. "Still soft," he said thoughtfully, "Hasn't fully dried. Might hold in the first innings, but I wouldn't be surprised if cracks show up late in the second."
Evan gave a low hum and tapped the surface with the toe of his shoe, listening to the dull thud, "You can feel the moisture just sitting underneath. Not soaked, but sticky. New ball might skid a little."
Seraph nodded wordlessly.
Kazuna crouched beside Isa, inspecting the cracks near the good length area. "Pacers will get some help early on. Bit of seam movement, especially if the breeze picks up. But if this dries out under cloud cover, spinners might get the last word." He said glancing at Gabriel who studied silently.
Rauf turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder at the damp patches near the outfield. He bent down and grabbed a clump of grass, pressing it between his fingers, "Ground's a little spongy. Could slow the ball down off the bat, early on, stroke play might be tough."
Elias looked up at the sky, eyes narrowing. "There's still a chance of light drizzle later," he added, "If that hits mid-innings, even briefly, this surface might get unpredictable. It'll be a test of patience more than power."
Kazuna stood and dusted off his hands. "Batsmen will need to adjust fast. First few overs are watchful. Let the pitch settle. After that, play with soft hands, run hard. Big shots only when you're set."
Seraph nodded, "Understood. And if it rains?"
Evan answered, calm and clear, "We reassess immediately. Stay ahead in DLS if needed. Keep wickets in hand if we're chasing. If we're bowling, dry the ball constantly, keep lines tight, and slow it down."
Elias smiled faintly, "Spin might suddenly become gold if it turns sticky. Gabriel, and Vice-captain Evan are really important."
Rauf straightened and gave the pitch one last look, "Composed heads. Conditions aren't ideal but winnable."
"Let's rehearse that with the others," Gabriel added.
There was a moment of quiet among the seven as they stood side by side, staring at the pitch as if it were an ancient riddle. Then, wordlessly, they turned and began walking back, their minds already turning over scenarios and strategies ready for whatever the sky or pitch might throw their way.
But not everyone was calm. Kenzo looked up. And so did Helios. The clouds, just grey moments ago, had darkened into black. Not the kind that rained, but the kind that loomed. Then, a sudden burst. The sun broke through like a blade, casting a golden glow across half the pitch.
"...That's not normal," Kenzo murmured.
"Maybe things might get more interesting than they seem," Helios smiled faintly, eyes never leaving the sky.
In the meantime, Inside the dressing room, a different storm brewed.
Alan stood silently near his locker, staring at the cock ball in his hand. It rested in his palm like a weight too light, too dangerous. His fingers clenched around it slowly, gently, as if it might shatter under the pressure. His long hair caught the light as it passed through, strands glowing faintly. His jacket hung loosely off his shoulders, half-zipped, with the collar catching the soft glint of the overhead lights.
He stared at his reflection in the steel locker door— saw someone older. A little less naïve. A little less reckless. Quieter. Calmer. Wiser. Still him but… changed.
Two years. Two years since he'd stood on a field like this. Two years since the world had watched him. Since the whispers of his disappearance, illness, all faded into silence. He didn't know how his body would respond. How, his game would flow. Whether it would feel like reclaiming something lost, or watching a ghost perform.
Ren's locker clicked shut beside him. Then, a quiet shuffle. Alan barely noticed until he felt a gentle ruffle in his hair. Ren's voice was low, but unwavering, "Don't worry. We've got you."
Alan blinked. His red eyes dropped. But his fingers eased around the ball.
Aaron's voice called out from the corridor, "Alan! Are you coming or not? I am done with Orion here!"
Alan let out a faint smile, whispering under his breath, "Thanks, Ren." He slipped the ball into his pocket, zipped up his jacket, and headed for the door.
As he stepped out of the locker room, the sound of the crowd swelled, like waves crashing just beyond a shoreline. He was walking back onto that field. Not just for himself. But for those beside him. For those in the stands, cheering and believing. For the ones who made promises and carried dreams.
Whether this match was a battle, a chance at redemption, or the beginning of something far greater. Alan was ready. Because if fire was waiting for him out there… he'd walk into it with flame of his own. Just like he always had.
The moment Alan emerged from the dressing room into the corridor bathed in twilight, the sound engulfed him completely. Giant screens lit up with the pre-match toss, and the crowd roared with renewed energy. Above, the sky unfolded like a living canvas, saffron flames melting into deep indigo shadows.
Floodlights flickered to life, casting a stark white glow over the green field below. Flags danced wildly in a vibrant storm of color: greens, blues, golds, purples, and whites colliding in cheerful disorder. And yet, amid the noise and motion, there existed a pocket of stillness.
Alan stood quietly with his back to Aaron, who was combing his long hair like a craftsman polishing the crown of a king before coronation. There was precision in the movements, Aaron's fingers worked fast but gentle, comb and pins snapping into place as if practiced a hundred times.
Within minutes, Alan's long royal blue strands, streaked with flame-red highlights, were pulled back. The side braids vanished into the rest, locked behind invisible pins. Stray strands were tucked away, and the wavy fringes once falling onto his forehead now curved slightly away. His golden earring glistened like a shooting star, giving his face a sharper, younger outline.
He looked… different. Clean-cut. Youthful. Ready. Like the version of himself that had once stood at the peak. Only, this time, with a scar deeper in his soul, and something brighter behind his eyes.
From the pavilion seating, Senri leaned forward with a lazy grin and gave a double thumbs-up, "Go for it, little Ace."
"Look who finally decided to join the living," Nagi called out with a mock gasp.
"Don't fall in love with your own reflection now," Noah teased, waving his hand in slow dramatic flair.
Aigou raised two fingers in a crisp peace sign, while Noah simply gave a slow nod: steady, quiet, knowing.
Alan exhaled softly and smiled, not wide, not loud, but enough for the tension to loosen in his chest. Enough to feel something flutter in his ribs.
Aaron stepped back, admiring his own work, "Now you look like someone I wouldn't mind being compared to. Though I never mind."