The winter sun was gentle that morning, the kind that warmed your skin without making you sweat. The district ground was unusually busy—not for a match, but for a special training session. Word had spread that an old Ranji Trophy legend, Vikram Rathore, was visiting to observe and guide the district squad.
For most of the younger boys, the name meant little. But Ajay, with his memories from another life, knew exactly who he was. Rathore had been a technical master in the 90s, a man whose career was shorter than it should have been, but whose knowledge of the game was unmatched.
First Glimpse of the Mentor
When Rathore arrived, the atmosphere shifted. He wasn't loud, wasn't flashy—just a tall, lean figure in a plain tracksuit, carrying a kit bag worn smooth from years of use. His handshake was firm, his eyes sharp.
The coach gathered the boys. "Listen carefully. He's here to help you. This kind of opportunity doesn't come every day."
Ajay stood slightly behind the group, watching Rathore scan the players. There was no idle chatter, no casual smile—he was reading them, the way a bowler reads a batsman's stance.
The First Drill
They began with a warm-up, but Rathore stopped it after a few laps.
"You're moving like you're here for a Sunday picnic," he said calmly. "When you train, you don't think of it as just practice. You move as if the selectors are watching—because one day, they will be."
The words struck Ajay like a direct hit to the stumps. It was almost exactly what he'd learned the hard way in his first life. In that life, he had taken practice lightly, saving his full intensity for actual matches. He had been wrong.
Batting Under Scrutiny
Ajay's turn in the nets came quickly. Rathore stood just outside the crease, watching. Ajay could feel those eyes tracking every movement—the grip, the stance, the weight transfer.
The bowler delivered a good-length ball outside off. Ajay leaned forward, timed the cover drive perfectly, and the ball raced to the fence. Rathore didn't nod, didn't smile, just said, "Again."
The next was shorter; Ajay rolled his wrists and pulled it along the ground. "Again."
For ten straight deliveries, Rathore kept saying the same word. It wasn't encouragement—it was demand. By the end, Ajay's shirt clung to his back with sweat, but the shots were crisper, cleaner, more consistent.
A Private Conversation
After the net session, Rathore called him over. They stood near the practice pitch, the faint smell of fresh-cut grass between them.
"You've got something," Rathore began. "Your shots are clean. Footwork's better than most at your level. But let me tell you something, Sharma—talent is cheap. Everyone has it at this stage. What matters is what you do with it when nobody's watching."
Ajay nodded slowly.
Rathore continued, "Every practice ball is a chance to get better or get worse. There's no staying the same. You either sharpen your blade or let it rust. And one day—could be next year, could be five years from now—you'll be in a match where one ball decides your fate. The work you put in on all those invisible days will decide if you survive it."
The System Responds
As Rathore spoke, Ajay's system pulsed softly in his head.
New Passive Skill Unlocked – Match Mindset (Level 1/5)
Effect: Training sessions now grant 10% more skill progression when performed at match intensity.
Ajay almost smiled. This wasn't just good advice—it was a direct upgrade.
Lessons Beyond Technique
Before leaving, Rathore gathered the team again. He spoke about fitness, mental toughness, and the discipline of living like an athlete even when off the field.
"Remember, cricket will tempt you," he said. "You'll get praise for one good innings, and you'll think you've made it. That's the trap. This game only respects those who respect the grind."
For most boys, it was just another motivational speech. For Ajay, it was a mirror reflecting his entire first life's downfall.
Walking Home with Resolve
That evening, as Ajay walked the familiar streets back to his home, Rathore's words played in his mind. Every practice ball is a chance to get better or get worse.
He thought about all the wasted practice sessions from his old life—the lazy jogs, the half-hearted drills, the net sessions where he'd stop after a few boundaries instead of pushing himself to exhaustion.
Not this time.
Changing the Nets Forever
The next day at practice, Ajay treated the nets like a World Cup final. He left no ball unchallenged, no catch unattempted. He pushed himself in fitness drills until his legs trembled.
The coach noticed. "You on something, Ajay? You're going harder than usual."
Ajay just shook his head with a faint smile. "Just playing like someone's watching."
System Growth
By the end of the week, his numbers told the story:
Batting – 732/10,000
Fielding – 81/100
Fitness – 59/100
He could feel the difference—shots traveling further, throws hitting the stumps more often, lungs burning less after long sprints.
A Quiet Moment at Home
That night, Ajay sat on the rooftop, looking at the faint glow of the city. The cool wind brushed against his face. His grandmother came up with a cup of warm milk and sat beside him.
"You're working hard these days," she said.
"Yes, Dadi. I have to. I want to make it all the way this time."
She patted his hand. "Hard work never cheats you, beta. Even if the world does."
Ajay knew she didn't understand the full depth of what he meant by "this time." But her words fit perfectly with Rathore's advice.