The clatter of utensils was the only sound at the dinner table. Arjun sat quietly, his bruised arm twitching with dull pain, but his heart still beating with the echo of victory.
Across the table, his father ate in silence—measured, mechanical, cold. His mother offered a cautious smile, but it faded quickly in the thick air between father and son.
Finally, his father broke the silence.
"You skipped your coaching classes today."
Arjun didn't flinch. "There was a match… the internal school tournament. We won."
His father's eyes narrowed. "Match?" The word sounded like a curse on his tongue. "Is that what you call progress now? Running around in mud, locking limbs like hooligans?"
"It's kabaddi, Papa. It's a sport."
"It's a waste of time," his father snapped. "A phase. And a foolish one. How many scholarships do you think they give for kabaddi, huh? How many jobs? You think you're going to build a future sweating on a field?"
Arjun clenched his fists beneath the table. "I'm not asking for anything. Just let me play."
His father stood up, pushing his plate away. "You think life lets you just 'play'? You're not a prince. You don't have that luxury."
Arjun looked away. "Maybe not. But at least on the mat, I know who I am."
His father paused—surprised, maybe even hurt—but didn't say another word. He walked away, leaving a silence louder than any argument.
— Next Morning, School Ground —
Near the chess table under the neem tree, Lalit and Karan leaned on the barricade like two cricket commentators watching a World Cup final.
Lalit squinted. "Here it is—Rachna vs Yogita. Both undefeated. 5-0. Clash of the queens."
Karan grinned. "Yogita's mind is like a Rubik's cube. She smiles, twists the board around you, then boom—checkmate."
Lalit chuckled. "Rachna? No bluff. Just cold, brutal logic. Like a librarian with a vendetta."
Across from them, the board was a battlefield.
Rachna sat still, her face unreadable, but her mind was racing. Yogita plays like she doesn't care. But every move is a trap. Why is she leaving that knight exposed? Her eyes narrowed. No… it's bait. She wants me to take it. She's two moves ahead already.
Opposite her, Yogita leaned back slightly, studying Rachna—not the board. She's slower today, she thought. She's trying to read me, not the game. Good. That's where cracks start.
But even as she thought it, doubt crept in. Then why aren't her moves falling apart? Why does every piece she plays cut closer? She moved her bishop forward. A risk. A shift in rhythm.
Rachna's hands hovered. There it is. A weakness. But it's too obvious. Her fingers hesitated. Or maybe she wants me to think that. Dammit, is this a real opening or a distraction?
The game spiraled into a tight dance—each player striking, retreating, repositioning like duelists.
Then came the misstep.
Yogita's queen surged into play, bold and swift—too swift. For the first time, her eyes widened. Wait… no. That wasn't the time. Not yet.
Rachna's heart leapt. She slipped. This is it. She left her king's flank open.
She countered fast, pawns converging like a silent army. Her rook was primed.
Yogita blinked, stunned. She saw it. She's going for the corner fork—
But Rachna missed a beat.
A single square. A quiet bishop. Yogita moved with surgical calm.
"Checkmate," she said softly, staring at the board as if it betrayed her. Her pulse thundered. I almost lost. How?
The crowd around exploded in cheers. Yogita's friends whooped, arms raised.
But Yogita only looked at Rachna.
"That was the hardest match I've ever played," she said, offering her hand, voice still trembling. "You almost had me."
Rachna's expression didn't change, but her eyes gleamed. She took the hand. "Next time, I will."
And Yogita believed her.
— After the Match —
The crowd was still buzzing when Lalit's jaw dropped so hard it could've dented the Earth.
"Did that just happen?" he asked, frozen like a statue.
Karan had both hands on his head. "Bro… Rachna nearly cooked Yogita like Maggie in two minutes—and then bam! Yogita served reverse biryani!"
"I swear," Lalit said, eyes wide, "for one second, I saw Yogita's soul leave her body when Rachna cornered her rook."
Karan nodded violently. "Same! I was like, 'Bhai, it's over, call the principal, Yogita is DONE!' But then—plot twist! That bishop came flying like a ninja!"
"I'm still trying to process that queen sacrifice. It was like she said, 'Here, take my queen, also take my pride, and then CRUSH.'"
Karan laughed. "It was like chess turned into an anime fight—'I planned this six moves ago, Rachna!'"
They both burst out laughing.
Then Lalit squinted. "Wait... is Rachna walking this way? What do we do?"
"Act cool. Don't say anything dumb."
"I've never been cool in my life!"
Before Karan could respond, Rachna approached, wiping her forehead with a handkerchief, her expression composed but tired.
She stopped in front of them.
"Hey," she said. "Did you guys watch the game?"
Both nodded at the same time, too fast.
"You were a beast out there!" Karan blurted. "I mean like—calculating assassin-level beast."
"And—and you almost dethroned Yogita! I nearly cried!"
Rachna smirked. "Almost doesn't count, but thanks."
Just then, Arjun walked over, clapping slowly, his smile casual but respectful.
"Rachna," he said, stopping beside her. "That was the best match of the season. Easily. You played like a storm."
Rachna tilted her head, slightly surprised.
"Thanks. Even if it was only good enough for second place."
Arjun grinned. "Second place? Nah. That was first place in fearlessness."
Rachna blinked. His words caught her off guard—warm and sharp, like sunlight after a cold wind. A slow heat crept up her neck. Was she… blushing?
Stop it, Rachna. It's just a compliment. From a boy. Who happens to look irritatingly good when he smiles like that.
Lalit elbowed Karan. "Bro, write that down. I'm gonna use that on my math paper results."
Karan whispered, "Too bad you're fearless and fail."
Everyone laughed—except Rachna, who rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the small smile forming. The tension of the match finally melted away, but her heart was still doing its own kabaddi match.
— Kabaddi Ground —
The energy shifted. Blue team was prepping for their upcoming match, but all eyes were on Green team—desperate to prove themselves after a shaky season.
Their coach barked drills, but everyone knew the real tension was building for the big match two days later: Blue vs Red.
On the sidelines, Vikrant stood stretching, watching Arjun across the ground. Yogita walked by with her friends, and he caught up.
"Looking forward to the match?" he asked, half-smiling.
Yogita shrugged. "Should be a good one."
Vikrant's tone sharpened. "I'm going to enjoy this. That rookie has talent, sure. But experience matters. Arjun's never faced someone like me."
Yogita raised an eyebrow. "You sound... desperate."
"I am desperate," Vikrant said, eyes locked on Arjun. "Desperate to remind everyone that no matter how flashy your footwork is—real power doesn't bluff. It dominates."
He turned away, muscles coiled like a storm waiting to break.
He stared at the field where Arjun practiced, sweat flying off each dive, each roll, each chant of kabaddi. The crowd liked the underdog. The school liked the rise of a new star.
But Vikrant?
Vikrant didn't like being forgotten.
This wasn't just a match.
It was war.
And he planned to win.