The Countdown BeginsTwo weeks until district trials. That phrase echoed in Mohith's head the morning after the scouts announced their decision. His cracked bat rested across his shoulder as he stood on the edge of the dusty ground where everything had changed. The familiar salty breeze carried the laughter of children, but Mohith stood silent, steeling himself.Mohith (inner voice):
"The world beyond this ground will be sharper, harder, tougher. If we go as we are, we'll be crushed. Two weeks—that's all we have to transform ourselves."Behind him, Pavan jogged up, slightly out of breath but smiling. Dhruva walked more slowly, clutching the old, worn-out ball he always carried.Pavan:
"So where do we start, captain?"Mohith placed the bat on the ground and looked at both of them.Mohith:
"We start by breaking limits. District players won't give us respect. We'll take it by force… through sweat, through pain."Training: MohithFor Mohith, batting practice wasn't just about power anymore—it was about control. He forced himself to bat with heavy iron rods taped to the back of his cracked bat, every stroke making his arms scream. His forearms bled from blisters, his shoulders seared with pain. Each time he connected, dust flew, but the ball didn't go far.Kids who came to watch laughed at first.
"Why's he struggling all of a sudden?"But Mohith never faltered. With every strike, his mind burned:"If my body cries now, it won't cry in the trials. If my bat feels heavier today, it'll feel light tomorrow."When night fell, he practiced shadow batting under the dim streetlamp, picturing bowlers faster than Arjun, imagining deliveries that seamed, spun, swung viciously. His bat moved before his body, instinct sharpening.Training: PavanOn the other side of the ground, Pavan was no less determined. Known for his calmness and ability to rotate strike, he worked on speed and stamina this time. He tied bricks to his ankles and sprinted up and down the beach, collapsing breathless onto the sand, then forcing himself back to his feet."Come on, come on…" he muttered, pushing his limits.He practiced running hard between the wickets with Mohith. Sometimes, his legs gave out. He tripped, scraped his knees. But each time he got up, Mohith clapped his shoulder.Mohith:
"You're my partner, Pavan. If I'm the fire, you're the shield. The world needs to see both of us."Pavan's smile was tired but proud.Training: DhruvaDhruva, meanwhile, was training with his ball. The boy who had always been the silent shadow now became the focus of Mohith's attention.Mohith gave him a single task.
Mohith:
"Spin the ball until the world stops recognizing it."Day after day, Dhruva bowled with ragged balls across uneven patches on the beach. His deliveries drifted in the salty wind, gripped the sand differently, and every spin was unpredictable. His skinny frame looked fragile, but his fingers turned impossibilities into magic.At night, alone, he muttered quietly over each delivery:
"Nail him… deceive him… don't let them escape…"And when fatigue struck, Mohith's words kept echoing:
"You didn't just bowl a ball—you broke a storm."It was enough to make him bowl one more, then one more again.Clashes Between ThemTraining wasn't all harmony. There were moments of fire.One evening, while Pavan was gasping after endless sprints, Mohith barked,
Mohith:
"Faster, Pavan! At the trials, if you hesitate for even one second, you'll run me out or get thrown out. Faster!"Pavan's face tightened with anger.
Pavan:
"I'm not you, Mohith! Not everyone can carry the team alone!"Silence followed, heavy and sharp. Dhruva looked away awkwardly.But moments later, Pavan got up again, sweat dripping into his eyes, and ran harder than before without complaint. Mohith watched quietly, guilt stirring in his chest.That night, he muttered softly while staring at the stars:
Mohith (inner voice):
"I push them too hard… But I can't lose them. Without Pavan anchoring, without Dhruva's spin, I'm nothing."Team UnitySoon, cracks turned into strength. One afternoon, Mohith threw a challenge—three overs of Dhruva bowling to him, with Pavan fielding every ball.The intensity was raw. Dhruva's spinning deliveries tricked Mohith again and again, some nearly taking the edge, one shattering the stump. Pavan's quick running cut off singles, diving, stopping, dust clinging to his skin like armor.At the end, Mohith collapsed on one knee, laughing breathlessly.Mohith:
"Good… Good. This is it. This is what will break them."Pavan and Dhruva looked at him, exhausted but smiling. For the first time, the three of them truly felt not like individuals, but a team.The Eve of the TrialsSeven sunsets later, on the final night before the trials, they sat together on the beach. The cracked bat lay across their laps. The waves were black under the moonlight.Pavan (softly):
"What if we fail tomorrow?"Dhruva (hesitant):
"What if they laugh at us? Kick us out after one look?"Mohith stayed quiet for a moment, then lifted the bat and pointed it at the horizon.Mohith:
"If we fail, we fail together. But we won't walk away. We aren't some kids from a forgotten town. We are fighters who made the world notice us—with nothing but will. The trials won't be harder than what we've done here. Tomorrow is not the end. Tomorrow is the beginning."His words didn't just touch them—they ignited something unshakable.They had come as boys. Tomorrow, they would enter the trial grounds as warriors.Closing SceneDawn approached, painting the sky with fiery orange. The three of them stood in mismatched shirts, carrying their few belongings—Mohith with his cracked bat, Pavan with second-hand pads, Dhruva with an old ball wrapped in cloth.But in their eyes burned a light stronger than any polished district player could carry.As they walked, shadows stretched behind them.Far away, Arjun stood at the gates of the district academy in perfect whites, waiting with a cold grin.Arjun (inner voice):
"So, you made it. Good. Now I'll crush you in front of everyone.
"Title screen:
"Next Time: The District Trials Begin"