Cricket System:Second Chance For Raj
Chapter 76: THE QUIET RIVAL

Chapter 76: THE QUIET RIVAL

Second Innings began.

First over.Pranay opened.No music. No cheer. Just breath and weight and the hum of a stadium built to silence you between deliveries.

His first ball was wide of off.

Dot.

Second — just short of length.

Tap-and-run denied.

Third — full and threatening.

Swing. Miss.

Inside the analyst booth, someone noted: "He’s not bowling to take wickets. He’s bowling to press pause."

And that was true.Because every dot wasn’t just a number.It was a thread looped tighter.

The fourth delivery — flicked to square.

Single.

Fifth — low bounce, defended sharply.

Dot.

Final ball — seamed in, struck the pad.

No appeal.No need.

Dot.

Raj clapped once — a sound lost in the quiet, but sharp enough to be felt.

Second over began.Zoya crouched behind the stumps, eyes locked.

Veer bowled this time.Not fast.

Not flashy.But precise.A line that whispered: You’ll have to earn every step.

Dot.

Single.

Dot.

Dot.

Two runs.

Dot.

By the fourth over, the scoreboard read 14/0.

A good start for the opponent?

Not if you looked at their eyes.They weren’t breathing like players chasing a small total.

They were breathing like runners pulling sleds uphill.Because FZ-042 wasn’t bowling deliveries.They were stitching hesitation.

Then came over five.

A misfield.

Veer reached late on a sharp single.Direct hit missed.Batter dived.

Harish sprinted in from cover, didn’t yell, didn’t complain.He just looked once toward Raj.Raj lifted two fingers.

Signal received: reset field.

Next ball — bouncer.

Attempted pull.

Top edge — in the air.

Zoya ran two steps and dived.Gloves forward.Caught.

First wicket.No scream.Just her eyes flashing like iron warmed over quiet fire.

The analysts watching called it "the cleanest roarless wicket in the tournament."

Sixth over.

Target still distant.But the opponent’s captain stepped in.

Power hitter.Tall and Confident.Used to being watched.

His first two shots were punishing — one bounce four, straight six.

Commentator leaned in. "They’ll break now. Flame stitched too thin."

Then Pranay switched angles.

Short ball — crunched into the pad.

Dot.

Next — yorker.

Dot.

Next — full, slow, knuckle variation.

Edge to slip.

Uday didn’t flinch.Just let it fall into his hands like it belonged there.

Gone.Flame silenced.

⟐ SYSTEM UPDATE ⟐

▸ Score: 39/2 after 7 overs

▸ Pressure Index: Climbing

▸ Squad Trust Curve: 94.2

▸ Public Sentiment Pulse: "Discipline Over Drama"

▸ Spotlight Retention: Confirmed

▸ Match Narrative Thread: Controlled

Eighth over brought a challenge.A quick pair at the crease.Sharp runners.

Zoya’s patience was tested — twice in one over.

Quick throws came in wide.She kept the ball low.

Next chance?

She threw it herself.Direct hit.

Runout.

Third wicket.

And this time, Harish shouted.Not a war cry.

Just one word:

"Thread."

The crowd watching on the feed didn’t get it.

But everyone who’d followed this squad’s rise understood.It wasn’t their skill that was rare.It was the way they refused to shift personalities just because cameras were watching.

Raj hadn’t spoken once this innings.But every time the ball changed hands?

He moved one step.Adjusted one player.

Tilted one chin.Leadership stitched, not shouted.

By the end of the 10th over, the score stood 58/3.

Still reachable.Still dangerous.

But the opponent’s body language?

Unstitched.

The 11th over began with tension finally showing on both sides. For the first time, one of Raj’s fielders—Harish—fumbled a throw. It wasn’t critical, but it left a mark. The batter took two. The commentator booth noted it instantly, as if waiting for a sign of collapse.

But Raj didn’t react. He didn’t look angry. He didn’t rearrange the field in panic. Instead, he walked over to Harish, tapped his chest once, then motioned toward deep mid-off.

A small adjustment.A silent fix.And a message: mistakes don’t unspool thread here. They help you tie it tighter.

Zoya sharpened her focus. Her gloves clapped once. Not loud, but steady. Veer took the ball again. His third over.

The opponent now needed 26 runs off 12 balls. Still possible. Still threatening.

First ball: slower delivery. Driven hard, but straight to Uday. Dot.

Second ball: full and wide. Sliced. One run.

Third: overpitched. Driven—two runs.

Veer wiped his forehead, breathing evenly. The pressure wasn’t getting to him. Not because it wasn’t heavy—but because his captain had stitched calm into every step they took onto this field.

Ball four: bouncer. Hooked—but only for one.

Ball five: yorker. Dug out, trickled back toward the bowler. Dot.

Final ball of the over: slower again. Read late, mistimed. No run.

Three runs off the over.

Target remaining: 23 off 6.

Now the cameras zoomed in. The scouts leaned forward. Some had their eyes on the other team’s remaining batter—one of the fastest closers in the camp circuit.

Raj didn’t call for a huddle.He didn’t shout instructions.He just walked slowly to the bowler’s mark, placed the ball into Pranay’s hand, and said one sentence.

"Don’t aim for the stumps. Aim for their rhythm."

Pranay nodded. It wasn’t fear in his fingers—it was clarity.

The final over began.

First ball: a full toss. Unexpected. Driven hard. Four runs.

Second ball: short of length. Punched through cover. Two.

Third ball: slower bouncer. Batter stepped back and missed.

Dot ball.

The tension thickened across the stadium, even through the screen.

Zoya signaled something. Raj didn’t override her. That was trust.

Fourth ball: yorker. Squeezed out. Single.

Fifth: wide attempted slog. Edge to third man. Single again.

Sixth and final ball. 15 needed. Impossible.

Pranay bowled it like the match was on the line. Straight. Silent. Accurate.

Dot.

Game over.

The Stitched Flame didn’t erupt. They didn’t pile into each other. There were no celebration howls. No raised fists.

Just gloves removed with care. Just bats tapped once on pads. Just Raj walking back to the dugout with the same pace he’d walked in.

The silence wasn’t empty.It was full of everything they hadn’t needed to say to prove that they belonged.

⟐ SYSTEM RECORD ⟐

▸ Match Complete: FZ-042 Victory

▸ Final Score: 83/4 (Defended)

▸ Opponent: Squad Viper Trace

▸ Defensive Rating: 94.6

▸ Public Approval Spike: +17%

▸ National Draft Committee Tag: "Unshakables"

▸ Trait Synergy Level: High Cohesion

▸ Bonus Unlocked: Passive Thread Buff – Stability Under Broadcast

Later that night, long after the screens turned off and the scouts had filed their early impressions, the team returned to their corridor in the Flame Zone dormitory. They didn’t speak much.

-Zoya rolled her shoulders and fell asleep without saying a word.

-Veer folded his shirt like it was the only thing he could control in the world.

-Harish stared at the wall, remembering the dropped throw—and smiled anyway.

+Pranay sat in the corner with earbuds in, no music playing. Just quiet.

-Uday cleaned his bat and ran a finger across the spine of it, like it might tell him where the next Chapter would begin.

And Raj?

He stood by the window.The stadium lights in the distance were dim now, but he could still see the faint shape of the scoreboard.

No numbers.Just memory and a thread stitched silently across a match that was meant to erase them—but only proved they couldn’t be undone.

The day after the broadcast match, Raj awoke to silence—but not the kind that calmed. It was the stillness that came when something unseen had begun to shift.

His system vibrated faintly. No alert sound, only a visual:

⟐ SYSTEM UPDATE ⟐

▸ Observation Flag Triggered

▸ Thread Signature Detected: Type – Mirror

▸ Description: Another candidate has begun replicating your field strategy, player rotation rhythm, and behavioral sync tactics

▸ Code Name Assigned: "Quiet Mirror"

▸ Caution: Traits mimicry in progress.

▸ Suggested Action: Observe. Do not engage yet.

Raj stared at the message.

A mimic?

No, not a fan.This wasn’t admiration.This was a pattern attempting to absorb what he’d built.

He dressed without a word, left the dorm, and walked to the isolated practice zones—places most squads didn’t touch until after breakfast.

There, beyond the side netted wall, he saw them.Another squad.Ranked higher.More polished.

Their captain stood in the center with dark sleeves rolled up, pointing in short, controlled gestures.

Fielders moved exactly three steps right.

Mid-on narrowed.Slip expanded only when the bowler shortened his run-up.

Raj didn’t need to hear the commands.He knew them.Because they were his.The same formations he’d used in the scrim.

The same quiet-space control that he’d taught his own squad after every lights-out session.Now stitched onto someone else’s frame.But it wasn’t the accuracy that bothered him.It was how well it fit.

Later that morning, Uday approached him with a tablet.

"You need to see this," he said.

Footage.

Yesterday’s match.Overlayed with a new clip from another team’s trial scrim.The timing. The rotation. The delivery setups.

Almost identical.

"They’re not just watching," Uday murmured. "They’re building off us."

Raj didn’t respond immediately.He just tapped the screen, paused the second match, and zoomed in.

The captain of the other squad.Expression calm.Body language firm.A notebook in hand.

Raj narrowed his eyes.Then spoke softly.

"He’s not playing to lead."

Zoya walked up behind them. "Then what?"

"He’s playing to replace."

The next system ping came in just before training began.

Raj opened it as the team gathered under the morning sun.

⟐ SYSTEM THREAD ALERT ⟐

▸ Code Name: Quiet Mirror

▸ Current Rank: Cohort B3

▸ Behavioral Match: 71%

▸ Decision Pattern Sync: High

▸ Influence Drift: Projected to siphon silent leadership traits if unchecked

▸ Notice: Draft Panel interest in ’B3 Captain’ increasing

▸ System Insight: You are no longer the only silent strategist being watched

Raj glanced at his squad.None of them had seen the alert yet.But they felt it.

Something was shifting behind the curtain—where games weren’t played with runs, but with image and repetition.

"Mirror him back?" Harish asked later, voice low.

"No," Raj said. "Let him walk deeper. Let him believe we’re not watching."

Veer chimed in. "Until?"

"Until he forgets that thread only looks like thread, if you can stitch without tangling."

The team understood.They trained harder that day—but not louder.

Veer shadow-batted for 40 minutes straight without once checking the nets beside him.

Zoya reviewed footage silently, logging delivery counts by hand.

Uday spent the lunch break restoring one of the shared gloves from a lower-squad teammate.

Even Harish, usually the fire-cracker, skipped his jokes.

Because now they were being watched not just for success,but for how easily someone else could steal their shape.

By evening, the name finally dropped.In a passing conversation near the analyst block, Raj overheard it.

"...Arhaan Malik. Squad B3. The new ’quiet flame’ contender," a coach whispered.

The phrase settled sharp in Raj’s chest.Not jealousy not fear.Just a realization.This wasn’t mimicry.This was intentional rivalry by design.

And the system?

It wanted to see who burned cleaner in the same silence.

To be continued...