The euphoria of the 95-meter six evaporated the moment Jatin Ninaniya tried to shift his weight for the next delivery. A jagged, electric heat flared from his right ankle, shooting up his calf like a warning shot. It was the "Egoist's Tax"—the physical cost of using a footballer's explosive torque on a cricket pitch that wasn't designed for such violent rotation.
Don't limp. Don't even flinch, Jatin commanded his nervous system.
Kabir Malhotra was standing at the top of his mark, but the "Invincible" aura he usually carried had flickered. His pristine white jersey was damp with sweat, and his breathing was ragged. Jatin's disrespect hadn't just taken runs; it had acted like a virus, attacking Kabir's system of absolute mechanical accuracy.
The Anatomy of the Breaking Point
From the non-striker's end, Arjun Singh saw the truth. He wasn't just a teammate; he was a student of movement. He noticed the slight, millisecond delay when Jatin tapped his bat—a subtle hesitation in the weight transfer.
He's damaged the Talus, Arjun realized. His mind raced through the medical diagrams he had studied. The pivot for that hook shot had put immense rotational force on the Anterior Talofibular Ligament (ATFL). In a cricket boot with long spikes, the foot stays locked in the dirt while the body turns. Something had to give.
Arjun walked down the pitch, ostensibly to talk about the wind. "Jatin, your right foot is dragging. You're red-lining. If you try to charge Kabir again, that ankle is going to snap. Play it straight. Just survive the over."
Jatin's eyes were bloodshot, fixed on the red ball in Kabir's hand. "Surviving isn't the goal, Arjun. If I play it safe, I'm just admitting that his 'system' is better than my 'intent.' I have to break him before I break down."
The Duel: Calculation vs. Chaos
Kabir came in for the fourth ball of the over. He didn't go for the swing this time. He went for pure, clinical aggression. He saw Jatin's slight favor towards his left leg and aimed a searing 138-kph delivery right at the injured right toe.
Jatin didn't move his feet. He couldn't. Instead, he relied on his [Kinetic Chain]—the power starting from his core and exploding through his forearms. He stayed deep in the crease, clearing his front hip just enough to give his arms room to swing.
CRACK.
It was a "Sehwag-style" square cut. The ball didn't just find the gap; it felt like it was trying to escape the stadium.
"Is that all?" Jatin shouted, his voice hoarse.
The crowd, mostly students from St. Jude's, erupted. But the scouts in the pavilion remained silent. They were watching Jatin's landing. Every time he finished a shot, his right foot trembled. They knew the "Glitch" was becoming a physical reality.
The Mid-Innings Collapse
While Jatin was waging a private war, the rest of the St. Jude's team was drowning. Seeing their lead batsman play like a god made them feel like mere spectators. The psychological gap between Jatin and his teammates was too wide.
Rohan, the off-spinner, was the next to go. Trying to emulate Jatin's aggression without having Jatin's reflexes, he charged a wide delivery from Kabir. He swung blindly, lost his balance, and was easily stumped.
Two more wickets fell in the next three overs. St. Jude's went from 45/0 to 62/4. The scoreboard was a graveyard of ambition. Jatin stood at the crease, leaning heavily on his bat, his jersey soaked in salt and dust. He was on 38 runs, but he felt like he had played for three days.
The Finishing Move
The 12th over. Kabir's final spell. The stadium lights were starting to hum as the afternoon faded. Kabir knew this was the moment. He didn't need to be faster than Jatin anymore; he just needed to be more "durable."
"This is where your rebellion ends, Jatin," Kabir said as he passed him. "You're a Ferrari with a broken axle. You're fast, but you're finished."
Kabir ran in, hitting the crease with everything he had left. He delivered a perfect yorker—aimed not at the stumps, but at Jatin's right heel. It was the most difficult ball in cricket to play when you can't move your feet.
Jatin's [Spatial Awareness] slowed the world down. He saw the ball's trajectory—a lethal downward arc. He knew if he tried to step back, his ankle would collapse.
He did the unthinkable. He dropped his bat to a horizontal plane and used his left leg as a solitary pillar. As he felt his right ankle finally give way, he swung the bat like a footballer performing a bicycle kick.
It was a moment of pure, unadulterated "Absolute Intent." He wasn't balanced. He was falling. But as his body hit the dirt, the bat met the ball with a sound like a gunshot. The ball didn't just go for six; it hit the digital scoreboard, cracking the glass and flickering the lights.
Jatin hit the ground with a sickening thud. The world went white with pain. The Talus bone had reached its limit.
The umpire signaled a six. The stadium was silent for three full seconds before a roar broke out that could be heard in the next town. Jatin lay in the dust, his right foot twisted at an unnatural angle. He had broken the "Invincible" aura of Kabir Malhotra. He had shattered the scoreboard.
But as the medical team rushed onto the field, Jatin saw the scout in the pavilion closing his notebook. The look on the scout's face wasn't one of admiration. It was pity.
He had won the battle, but the war for his career had just become a struggle for survival.
[Author's Note: Jatin has reached the peak of defiance, but his body has paid the price. Chapter 5 will move to the hospital, where the reality of his injury forces him to face a terrifying truth: he might never be the same 'batsman' again.]