The notice went up without ceremony.
A single white sheet pinned crookedly to the school board near the staff room, fluttering slightly whenever someone passed.
Most students walked past it.
Rudra didn't.
He stopped the moment the word "TRIALS" registered.
OFFICIAL NOTICE
Bangalore District Cricket Association
Under-14 Selection Trials
Eligible Players:
Born on or after 1st September 1987
Venue: District Ground, Cubbon Park
Reporting Time: 6:30 AM
Date: Two Weeks From Now
Rudra read it twice.
Then a third time.
Not because he doubted it—but because he respected it.
Two weeks.
Not long.
Not short.
Enough to reveal who had prepared in advance… and who was about to panic.
The Difference in Reaction
By evening, the news had spread.
Excitement erupted in bursts.
"District trials!"
"My cousin played there!"
"They select only ten players!"
Some boys immediately talked about new bats.
Others worried about height, strength, age.
A few looked confident.
Most looked anxious.
Rudra listened quietly.
Inside, there was no surge of adrenaline.
Only calculation.
Understanding the Shift
School-level cricket forgave mistakes.
District cricket did not.
This wasn't about dominating weaker bowling or surviving collapses. This was about baseline competence—running between wickets, throwing accuracy, stamina across hours, focus when nothing happened for long stretches.
Selectors wouldn't care about one good innings.
They would watch everything else.
Rudra adjusted his plan that night.
Not by adding more.
By refining.
Preparation Begins
Morning runs extended slightly—not faster, just longer
Batting drills focused on defense and placement
Fielding emphasized throws after long fatigue
Recovery became deliberate, not optional
He avoided power training.
His body wasn't ready.
Forcing it now would cost him later.
System Alignment
During a slow jog at dawn, awareness surfaced again—subtle, familiar.
Stamina: steady accumulation
Running: nearing Lv 02 threshold
Focus: stable even under early fatigue
No new skills.
No warnings.
Just confirmation that the foundation was holding.
At Home
That evening, Rudra told his parents.
His father adjusted his glasses, reading the notice carefully.
"District level," he said. "This is serious."
"I know," Rudra replied.
His mother placed a bowl of curd beside him without comment.
More protein.
More care.
She didn't ask if he would be selected.
She asked if he would be tired.
Quiet Resolve
That night, Rudra lay awake, not imagining success—but rehearsing responsibility.
Early mornings.
Long waits.
Few chances.
District cricket didn't reward excitement.
It rewarded readiness.
And for the first time since his regression, Rudra felt it clearly:
This wasn't another step.
This was a gate.
And whether it opened or stayed closed wouldn't depend on talent alone—
But on how well he had endured everything that came before.