The shoulder pat from Coach Narendar felt like an electric shock. "You're in," the man had said. Siddanth Deva, a 30-year-old mind in a 10-year-old's body, felt a jolt of satisfaction so pure it almost made him dizzy.
He walked off the field, his new pads feeling light, his heart hammering. He'd done it. The first, most crucial step was complete. He was officially in the system.
As he reached the shade of the large banyan tree where the boys had left their bags, the familiar, soundless DING echoed in his mind.
A translucent blue screen shimmered into existence.
[Primary Objective: School Team Selection (Under-12) - COMPLETE]
[Host has successfully demonstrated superior fitness, tactical awareness, and multi-role capability.]
[Reward Issued: Template Integration Boost.]
Siddanth braced himself, but the prompt that followed confused him.
[Reward: +0.5% Template Integration.]
[New Total: AB de Villiers (2.0%)]
Only... 0.5%? He'd been expecting a massive jump. His 30-year-old mind, used to corporate "performance reviews," felt a flash of indignation. He'd dominated those trials.
Then, a new line of text appeared, as if sensing his thoughts.
[Note: Large integration boosts are reserved for high-stakes, real-world competitive victories. Trials are a baseline. The real work begins now.]
Siddanth's disappointment evaporated, replaced by a cold understanding. The system wasn't a magic wand; it was a accelerator. It wouldn't give him greatness, it would only reward what he earned. The 5% he'd dreamt of was a fantasy. This 0.5% was reality.
"Okay," he whispered, clenching his small fists. "You want work? I'll give you work."
The next day, Siddanth's life snapped into a new, relentless rhythm.
5:00 AM: Wake up. Physicality. Push-ups, pull-ups (on the patio beam), squats, and planks. His mantra was "train until failure."
7:00 AM: School. He'd found that with the 2.0% template's passive Enhanced Hand-Eye Coordination, even his handwriting had improved. His 30-year-old mind absorbed the 5th-grade syllabus in minutes, leaving his thoughts free to plan cricket strategies.
3:30 PM: School ends.
4:00 PM - 6:30 PM: Team Practice.
Coach Narendar's jovial, "welcome-to-the-team" demeanor vanished on day one. On the field, he was a hawk.
"Deva! Your feet are lazy! Again!" he'd roar, as Siddanth did fielding drills. "Arjun! That was a catch for your grandmother! Use your hands!"
The training was a world apart from gully cricket. It was structured, repetitive, and agonizingly difficult. They ran "suicides" (shuttle runs) until they felt sick. They took high-catches until the sun went down, their hands stinging.
But for Siddanth, this was heaven.
Every drill was a chance to push his 2.0% template.
During fielding, he didn't just dive; he let his Acrobatic Instincts guide his fall, rolling and popping back to his feet in one fluid motion, a skill that left the other 10-year-olds staring.
In the nets, he was a puzzle. Coach Narendar would yell, "Straight bat, Deva! Play in the V!" And Siddanth would obey, presenting a perfect, classical defense.
But when the coach looked away, he'd face the 14-year-old practice bowlers. He'd ask them to bowl short. He'd feel the 360° Field Awareness light up, sensing the gap behind the keeper. He'd try a cautious ramp. He failed, the ball hitting the bottom of his bat. He tried again. And again.
With his bowling, his 30-year-old mind made him a terrifying opponent. He didn't have pace, but he had guile. He'd bowl three perfect out-swingers, then, without changing his action, roll his fingers over the ball for a slower one, completely bamboozling the U-12 captain.
Coach Narendar watched him, his expression a mix of pride and utter confusion. "This kid... he bats like Sehwag but thinks like Azharuddin," he muttered to the other teacher.
Siddanth worked harder than everyone. He was the first to arrive, the last to leave. He ran extra laps. He did extra shadow-batting. He was a 30-year-old man on a mission, fueled by a 20-year-old regret.
Two months of this relentless grind passed in a blur of sweat, dirt, and aching muscles. One evening, as he collapsed into his bed, the system DINGED again.
[Host has completed 2-Month Intensive Training Regimen.]
[Physicality, skill application, and tactical integration have shown marked improvement.]
[Calculating Template Progress...]
[New Total: AB de Villiers (5.8%)]
A 3.8% jump. It was massive. He felt a surge of warmth, a new, pliable strength infusing his limbs. He felt... faster. Lighter.
"Status," he whispered.
The familiar blue screen appeared, but it was far more detailed than before.
PLAYER STATUS: SIDDANTH DEVA
TEMPLATE: AB de Villiers (Integration: 5.8%)
AGE: 10
📊 ATTRIBUTES
(Based on 10-year-old 'F' Rank baseline)
Strength: E+ (Developing)
Agility: D+ (Template-enhanced)
Stamina: D (Gained from endurance training)
Reflexes: C (Template-enhanced)
Hand-Eye Coordination: B- (Template-enhanced)
⚡ SKILLS (FROM TEMPLATE)
Enhanced Hand-Eye Coordination (Passive, Lv. 2):
Grants superior real-time tracking of fast-moving objects.
Acrobatic Instincts (Passive, Lv. 1):
Enhances balance, diving, and recovery motions.
360° Field Awareness (Active, Lv. 1):
(Upgrade: Latent -> Active)
Host can now instinctively process field gaps and opponent positioning.
Innovative Shot-Making (Active, Lv. 1):
(New Skill Unlocked at 5.0%)
Allows the conceptualization and attempt of unconventional shots (e.g., scoops, reverse-sweeps). Success rate is based on Agility and Hand-Eye stats.
Seam Bowling (Technique): C+
Tactical Acumen (Cricket Brain): D+
Siddanth stared at the page. The two new unlocks were game-changers. His 360-degree awareness was no longer just a "feeling"—it was an active skill. And Innovative Shot-Making... the system had officially given him permission to play like AB. He wasn't just a 10-year-old with good reflexes anymore. He was a 10-year-old with a supercomputer in his brain.
The next day at practice, Coach Narendar gathered all three school teams—the U-12s, U-14s, and U-17s. His jovial smile was gone.
"Alright, champions!" he boomed, his voice echoing across the field. "You've worked hard. You're tired. Good."
He unrolled a large banner. "THE HYDERABAD INTER-SCHOOL GAUNTLET."
"In two months," he said, his voice dropping to a serious rumble, "every school in the city—HPS, St. George's, Little Flower, Glendale, all of them—will meet at the Gymkhana Grounds. This is not a friendly match. This is for the cup. This is for bragging rights for the entire year."
The U-17s cheered, but the U-12s looked nervous.
"I don't just want to win," Coach Narendar said, jabbing a finger at the banner. "I want to crush them. I want HPS to be the only name they talk about. This means the next two months will be hell. Your last two months were a vacation. The real training starts now."
Siddanth felt a thrill, sharp and bright. This was it. His first real stage.
The next two months were hell.
Practice was no longer about drills; it was about scenarios.
"Deva!" Coach Narendar would scream, "You're at the crease. 18 runs needed off the last 2 overs. Arjun is with you. Go! Win the match!"
Siddanth, with his 30-year-old mind, took control. He'd walk down the pitch to Arjun, pat his shoulder. "Just give me the strike, Arri. Watch the ball."
He wasn't just a player anymore; he was becoming a leader.
In scenario-nets, he'd activate Innovative Shot-Making. He'd step across his stumps and scoop the 14-year-old fast bowler. The first time he did it, he was bowled. The second time, he missed. The third time, the ball flew perfectly over the keeper's head.
Coach Narendar saw it and almost had a heart attack. "DEVA! WHAT IS THIS CIRCUS SHOT? PLAY STRAIGHT!"
"It worked, Coach," Siddanth said, his voice quiet, his 30-year-old confidence leaking through.
Narendar was speechless. The kid was right.
He used his 360° Field Awareness to direct the field in practice matches. "Captain," he'd whisper, "that batsman is opening his stance. Move fine-leg deeper." The captain, a 12-year-old named Rohan, was skeptical at first, but after Siddanth's prediction came true three times in a row, he started listening.
Siddanth was transforming. He was still a 10-year-old boy, but he was becoming the brain of the U-12 team.
The two months vanished. The morning of the tournament arrived, crisp and bright.
At his house, his mother, Sesikala, insisted on feeding him dahi-shakkar (curd and sugar) for good luck, a ritual from his old life that made his 30-year-old heart ache with nostalgia. His father, Vikram, simply put a hand on his shoulder. "Play smart, Siddanth. All that training, all that hard work... make it count."
The bus ride to the Gymkhana Grounds was pure chaos. The buses, packed with the U-12, U-14, and U-17 teams, were a rolling cacophony of singing, shouting, and the thump of kit bags.
"Siddu, I think I'm going to be sick," Arjun whispered, his face pale green.
"You'll be fine," Siddanth said, his own heart thrumming with an electric, joyful anticipation. "Just watch the ball. Nothing else."
Coach Narendar and two other teachers—a stern-looking woman who clearly terrified the boys, and a bored-looking man who just wanted to read his newspaper—were trying to maintain order. It was a losing battle.
They arrived at Gymkhana. It was... beautiful. A sprawling oasis of green in the middle of the city. Dozens of matches were already underway. The air was filled with the smell of cut grass and the thwack of leather on willow.
"Right, U-12s, with me," Coach Narendar ordered. "The first-round matches are 10 overs. They're quick. We play three matches today to qualify for tomorrow's quarter-finals. No mistakes."
They gathered as the coaches drew lots. Coach Narendar returned, clapping his hands. "Okay, boys, listen up! First match is against St. Joseph's. A local school. We win the toss, we'll field. Deva, you're opening the bowling. Finish this fast. I want to send a message."
Match 1: HPS vs. St. Joseph's (10 Overs)
Siddanth took the new, hard, red leather ball. It felt perfect in his small hand. He stood at the top of his mark. His Tactical Acumen took over. The St. Joseph's opener was a small, nervous-looking kid who was holding his bat like it was a snake.
Siddanth didn't try to bowl fast. He bowled smart.
Ball 1: A perfect, full-length delivery, right on the off-stump. The batsman, expecting a bouncer, was frozen. He didn't even swing.
THWACK.
The off-stump cartwheeled backward.
Clean bowled.
Siddanth's teammates erupted. The St. Joseph's team looked like they'd seen a ghost. Siddanth just calmly took the ball back, shined it, and walked back.
He bowled two overs. He didn't use any fancy tricks. Just relentless, suffocating accuracy. His final figures: 2 overs, 3 wickets, 4 runs.
St. Joseph's was psychologically broken. They were all out for 32.
Siddanth, batting at #3, didn't even need to pad up. The HPS openers, giddy with confidence, chased the score in 4.1 overs.
Win 1. Clinical.
Match 2: HPS vs. Glendale Academy (10 Overs)
"Don't get cocky," Narendar warned. "Glendale is better. They have a fast bowler. Bat first."
HPS batted first, and the "fast" bowler—a tall, gangly 12-year-old who just chucked the ball—was effective. He took two wickets in his first over.
HPS was 10 for 2.
Siddanth walked in, his heart steady. Arjun was at the other end, his knuckles white.
"He's too fast, Siddu!" Arjun squeaked.
"He's not fast, Arri," Siddanth said, tapping his own helmet. "He's just big. He's not smart."
The big bowler charged in. He bowled short and wide. The old Siddanth would have tried to pull. The 10-year-old Siddanth would have flinched.
This Siddanth waited.
He activated Innovative Shot-Making.
He arched his back, went onto his toes, and just... ramped it. A delicate, angled-bat shot.
The ball flew, fine and fast, over the fumbling keeper's head for four.
The field, the bowler, and even Coach Narendar went silent. What was that shot?
The bowler, furious, ran in and bowled a yorker.
Siddanth's Reflexes were too good. He jammed the bat down, opened the face at the last second, and squeezed the ball past the diving point fielder for two.
It was a masterclass in exploiting an opponent's predictable aggression. Siddanth farmed the strike, protecting Arjun and picking the gaps. He finished not out on 31 off 18 balls, guiding HPS to a respectable 88/4.
Glendale, in reply, never stood a chance. They fell 27 runs short.
Match 3: HPS vs. Little Flower School (10 Overs)
It was the last match of the day. The sun was low, casting long shadows. Everyone was tired.
"Right, Deva," Coach Narendar said, "you're not bowling. Save your arm for tomorrow. We bat first. Go and... just get us a good score."
It was the permission Siddanth had been waiting for.
Little Flower's bowlers were tired, slow, and demoralized.
Siddanth decided it was time to put on a show.
He saw the field, not as 11 players, but as 11 gaps.
A slow off-spinner bowled outside off. Siddanth reverse-swept him for four. The bowler just stared.
A medium-pacer bowled on his legs. Siddanth walked across his stumps, exposing all three, and flicked the ball over the fine-leg boundary for six.
He was a 10-year-old playing a brand of cricket that wouldn't be mainstream for another ten years. He was premeditating, he was innovating, he was... having fun.
He smashed a blistering 45 off 22 balls before getting caught on the boundary, trying a one-handed shot just to see if he could. He walked off to stunned silence, which then turned into a ripple of applause from all the surrounding fields.
HPS posted 110. Little Flower was bowled out for 25.
Win 3. Dominant.
The bus ride back was different. The boys were exhausted, quiet, but electric with a new, shared confidence. They were 3-0. They were in the quarter-finals.
Arjun sat next to Siddanth, just staring at him. "Seriously, man," Arjun finally said, "that shot... the one where you went across... where did you learn that?"
Siddanth, his 30-year-old mind swirling with the joy of the day, just looked at his best friend and grinned, a true, 10-year-old grin.
"Just... saw it somewhere."
At the front of the bus, Coach Narendar was on his phone with the school principal.
"Yes, sir, we won all three... Yes, Deva was excellent... No, you don't understand. This kid... he's not just good. He's different."