Haitam glanced back and their gazes met.
"The match we're playing tomorrow doesn't require your effort alone. We'll all be right there beside you. So, what if Yara points a finger at you? Even if she were the one playing instead, she still wouldn't be able to take the place of an entire team." Raza continued as he jumped down from the seats and walked toward him.
Haitam's eyes instinctively drifted to Raza's cheek. The mark from the slap had nearly faded. But that didn't mean it had never happened. In the end, it was his fault. He bit his lip and turned away.
"Haitam." Raza called out a little too loudly, but it was more than enough to stop Haitam in his tracks, "It's alright. I'm fine," he assured him, "I know me saying that won't erase your guilt or your worries, but listen to me."
"...Speak." With his back still turned toward Raza, Haitam finally responded after a moment of silence.
Raza sighed, "Geez, you're stubborn. What if I told you that you'll be able to break out of your slump tomorrow? Would you believe me?"
A brief silence followed.
"Pft!" Haitam finally turned around, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Looks like that slap did something to your brain nerves, huh?" Clearly amused, he added, "Honestly, when did you start talking like Karachi's Elias?"
Raza blinked before breaking into a grin, "Finally smiled. Well, that's progress." He folded his arms proudly, "As for my brain nerves, I think that slap upgraded my mental software." He punctuated the statement with a wink.
That alone was enough for Haitam to shake his head in disbelief and turn back toward the bowling pitch, "If you're here to waste my time, then please don't. I'm already in enough of a bind, Raza."
"Hey, I'm not joking! Listen to me." Stopping Haitam before he could walk any farther, Raza leaned closer and whispered into his ear.
Momentarily startled, Haitam listened. Second after second, as the words sank in, his eyes gradually widened. Only when Raza finally stepped back and flashed him a mischievous wink did Haitam snap out of his daze. "Why... didn't I ever try that?" he asked, genuinely stupefied.
Raza shrugged before twirling around once and facing him again, "I noticed it while you were bowling earlier. At first, I thought it was just an assumption—or maybe I was improvising—but then I dragged Pierre and Vice-Captain David into a discussion about it." He pointed at Haitam confidently, "And we all came to the same conclusion. So? What do you think?"
Without saying a word, Haitam grabbed his ball and headed straight toward the nets.
Raza blinked, instantly growing anxious. "Hey! I didn't tell you that so you could start practicing again! We have to head back—urgh..."
"Good grief. He wouldn't be Haitam if he wasn't like this." Startled by the familiar voice, Raza whipped around, "Vice-Captain David?!" "Yup, it's me."
Almost completely ignoring Raza's astonished expression, David casually pushed a pair of glasses onto Raza's face adjusting them properly, "There you go with your glasses. You should consider yourself lucky Milan was around. Otherwise, you'd still be searching for a new pair at this hour."
Then, as if offering the most ordinary advice in the world, he added, "And try not to provoke people to the point where they slap you. It'll only cause you more trouble."
"Tch, it was that woman's fault in the first place..." Raza grumbled. Then, almost instantly changing moods like the weather… "Woah! He actually fixed them!" He immediately grabbed the glasses and inspected them with open admiration. "That's so awesome!"
"Of course he did. His hands are miraculous." David praised before turning to look at Haitam. "And what about our Captain?" he added, watching Haitam bowl twice more.
"What do you think?" Raza countered instead. "He's going to do it now. That hesitation is gone," David replied with a relieved smile before calling out loud, "Hey, Haitam! Coach Yasir is calling for you."
Haitam turned around and gave a nod. His expression looked lighter than before, his gaze now focused solely on moving forward. It suited him far better. Just as it always should have.
As soon as Haitam came near, Raza hopped to his feet, "How was it? Any progress? Feeling anything different?" A barrage of questions immediately spilled from him.
"Let him breathe..." David shot him a look before handing a water bottle to Haitam.
"Nope. Nothing." Not considering the curious atmosphere around Raza, Haitam replied bluntly.
"What...?" Raza losing his entire charisma, stared at him then at David, almost incredulous.
"However," Taking a sip of water, Haitam grinned, "Things will change soon. That much I can say for sure."
"...Then I'll make a bet." Crouching slightly, Raza revealed an enigmatic grin.
"What kind of bet?" Haitam looked down at him, curiosity flickering in his eyes, "Tomorrow, everything will change. And Karachi Kings will make sure they change it for us for the better." Raza declared with absolute certainty.
"Heh~ Are you sure you won't regret saying that?" David smirked.
"God forbid. May my enemies regret things. Why would I?" Raza stood up and dusted off his hands, "So? Are you in, Captain?"
Haitam looked at him with a rather serious expression, "Keeping the bet aside… Tell me, Raza. You're quite the cherished child in your family, aren't you?"
The question came so suddenly that it startled not only Raza but David as well.
"Huh?" Raza hesitated.
"Not only are you cherished, you've probably never been hit in your entire life. You've never been raised to talk back to people, nor to disrespect anyone." Haitam stared at him with a guilty smile, "Don't you know that you can't lie? And lying in front of your Captain? Did you really think you'd have a way out?"
Unable to respond, Raza glanced at David and simply swallowed, "Looks like I'm caught, huh..." He scratched his head awkwardly before suddenly gasping in confusion, "Wait! How did you even know? We only met recently at the base, right?!"
"Because I'm your best friend." Haitam's smile softened. The words spoken in the morning had now come full circle.
Raza couldn't help but smile in return.
"That's why I'll make sure your bet comes true tomorrow. Just wait. Whether we rely on Karachi Kings or I rely on my own strength, I believe neither will give up on me." Haitam's smile deepened, "I'll make sure you won't be disappointed."
The same leader-like smile rested on his lips. Conviction. Belief. They radiated from him like the sun—warm, unwavering, impossible to extinguish.
Raza nodded firmly, "I'll count on you, Captain. Let's win this together tomorrow."
Looking at the ball in his hand, Haitam lifted his gaze toward the dark velvet sky. "Of course we will." A faint smile crossed his face, "For now... let's head back."
----
Haitam raised his fist proudly into the air. Strong, kind and unyielding. To Raza, this was his answer. The challenge had been accepted, won, and growth? It was unstoppable. What was done was done. Now was the time to move forward with iron-clad steps. Raza raised his fist back in triumph, unable to hide the joy in his eyes.
Back at Karachi's pavilion, Alan exhaled deeply as he picked up his bat. Finally, it was his turn. He stood and walked towards Seles, and as casually as if he was used to it very much, he slipped one item after another into the pocket of his white lab coat.
Feelings? He wasn't feeling much. In fact, it was an indescribable emotion. Fear? Anxiety? Excitement? None of them seemed to match his state.
It was as if he had been waiting for this moment for a long time—and that time had finally come. It had arrived, and he had to be a part of it.
"Well, that's becoming quite heavy," Seles chuckled, glancing down at Alan. "You don't want to see me standing there tilted to one side, right?" he quipped.
Alan, slightly amused, placed the final pieces and glanced up, "Something this trivial isn't enough to bring you down, doc." With that, he turned around, facing the vast ground before him.
This world he had once wanted to leave behind had somehow ended up in front of him again. It was a strange feeling. Back then, he left because it wasn't where he belonged. Not because he didn't love it—he did, deeply.
Cricket, to Alan Rex Lorenzo, was salvation. His one and only dream.
"Come, world… come, Multan Sultans… I am back," Alan whispered as he stepped over the boundary line. Whispers, accusations, rumours, opinions—he was ready to face them all. Ever since that eight-year-old self of him had made up his mind.
Suddenly, Nidou's words from the previous night echoed in his mind—bold, resolute, almost overflowing with strength:
"Play Alan. The eyes. The whispers. The following silence. When have you ever cared about that? So don't care now."