Chapter 5: The Rivalry Begins

Morning at the Blasters academy began before the sun.

The dew hadn't lifted from the turf yet, and the goalposts still glistened from last night's storm. But Arjun was already there, practicing wall passes against the fence, his ankle still tender from Faizan's late tackle.

Every strike echoed into the silence of dawn.

> "Faster. Cleaner. No waste."

He wasn't obsessed with being better than anyone else.

He was obsessed with not being the boy who failed again.

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Later that day, the academy's common hall buzzed with whispers.

Coach Sameer had pinned the weekly board with a surprise announcement:

> "Senior Blasters Reserves vs U18 Squad – Closed Match.

Best 2 Players to Train with First Team."

The room froze.

Eyes widened. Mouths whispered.

"Did you see that?"

"We're playing against the reserves?"

"Whoever gets picked could join the ISL senior squad!"

The room filled with tension. Dreams ignited. And competition sharpened.

Arjun folded his arms. He didn't smile.

He felt something deeper than excitement — he felt readiness.

But one voice sliced through the room like a knife.

"Well, if they're picking the best," Faizan called from across the room, "I guess one spot is already mine."

Laughter from his crew.

Arjun looked at him — calm but focused. "Then the other spot's mine."

---

Coach Sameer divided them into squads for prep matches.

Arjun was now captain of the Gold squad. Faizan captained Blue.

What followed in the next few days was war on grass.

Tackles that bordered on fouls. Duels that felt like chess games played with fists and boots. Arjun didn't back down. But Faizan didn't let up.

The coaches watched. Took notes. Said little.

---

But off the pitch, something unexpected started happening.

Kalyani visited again.

She claimed she was "just passing by" after a dubbing session in Kochi, but she showed up during evening practices, occasionally bringing snacks for Amma and staying for extra minutes longer than she admitted.

Arjun tried to ignore the flutter in his chest when she waved from the fence.

Faizan, however, noticed.

"You've got a cheerleader now?" he sneered as they exited the pitch one evening. "Is she going to act in the movie of your life too?"

Arjun didn't rise to it.

But later that night, as he sat on his bunk scrolling through old match footage, the past-life dream returned.

---

> He was older again. Sitting on a hospital bed. Alone. His leg in a cast.

A screen across the room showed a Champions League match. He wasn't in it.

He had been forgotten. Quickly.

And the only sound was the rain against the window.

---

He woke up sweating again.

> "Not this time. I will not be forgotten."

---

The match against the reserves arrived under grey skies and fierce humidity.

No fans. No press. Just talent evaluators, senior coaches, and academy heads watching with clipboards and cold eyes.

The whistle blew.

And Arjun became a different person.

A creator. A controller. A conductor.

His passes didn't just connect — they commanded.

His runs pulled defenders like magnets. His vision turned chaos into geometry.

In the 39th minute, he lobbed a pass into space for Roshan to volley in.

1–0.

Faizan wasn't quiet either.

He returned fire with a sharp one-two move, slicing open Arjun's defense and assisting the equalizer.

1–1.

The rest of the match was a storm.

Both boys hunted each other like shadows. Testing. Taunting. Rising.

In the 82nd minute, the ball came to Arjun just outside the box. He feinted, shifted the ball to his left, and curled a shot.

Top corner.

2–1. Final whistle.

---

After the match, Coach Sameer pulled the squad in.

No long speech.

Just two names.

"Arjun Dev. Faizan Qureshi."

"You're training with the senior team starting Monday."

---

The crowd of boys erupted in whispers again.

Some clapped. Some went silent.

Faizan raised an eyebrow toward Arjun.

"Looks like we're not done yet."

Arjun met his stare. "We're just getting started."

---

That night, Arjun sat alone on the edge of the hostel terrace, watching the city lights shimmer below.

His ankle ached. His body was bruised. But his mind was sharper than ever.

> "You're walking the path now, Appa."

He pulled out his journal — the one he'd started since his first dream — and wrote:

> Chapter 1: Rivalry. Recognition. And Rebirth.

Below it, he added:

> "I'm no longer playing catch-up with my past.

I'm racing toward my future."

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