The classroom felt colder than usual.
Not because of the weather—but because thirty pairs of eyes turned toward Azril the moment he stepped in.
The Debate Team Trials had drawn more attention than expected. Not everyone came to join. Most came to watch.
To see if the boy from the fight would crash and burn in front of a podium instead of a fist.
Azril could feel it in the air—the quiet judgment. The silent bets.
He kept walking.
Iman was already there, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. When he met her eyes, she gave a small nod. No words. Just that look that said: You've already won by being here.
The teacher in charge, Mr. Rafiq, stood at the front—same sharp gaze, same pressed shirt. He flipped through his clipboard without looking up.
"Next—Azril."
He stepped forward.
Heart loud in his ears. Palms damp.
He'd fought six people in the rain. But this? This was different.
This was standing still.
This was speaking.
He faced the panel. Took a breath.
The prompt was on the board behind them:
"Discipline is more important than talent."
Azril stared at the words.
Then spoke.
"I don't think it's about one being more important than the other," he began, voice low but steady. "I think it's about who you are without both."
A few heads tilted.
Azril continued, slowly building momentum.
"You can have talent, but without discipline, you waste it. You can have discipline, but without talent, you struggle."
He paused.
"But what if you have neither? What if all you've got is the choice to keep showing up?"
A murmur at the back.
He locked eyes with Mr. Rafiq.
"That's who I speak for. The ones who weren't picked first. The ones who were told to sit down, to shut up. The ones who had to fight just to stay in the room."
Silence.
Real silence. Not mocking. Not cruel.
Listening.
He nodded once, stepped back.
Didn't wait for applause.
Didn't need it.
Iman caught up with him outside, eyes wide. "You really went for it."
Azril exhaled, finally letting go of the tension in his shoulders.
"I didn't come to win," he said.
She smirked. "But you might've anyway."
The results came out two days later.
Azril's name was on the list.
Second column. Midway down.
No bold letters. No special marks.
Just five letters carved into a future he hadn't dared imagine before.
Azril.
End of Chapter 11