The days after the list felt different.
Not louder.
Heavier.
At School
Nothing changed on the surface.
Same classrooms.
Same benches.
Same timetable.
But eyes followed Rudra a little longer now.
Not admiration—evaluation.
A junior asked, "Bhaiya, district team?"
A senior nodded once, slow and measuring.
Rudra kept his head down.
Being seen was not the same as being safe.
Practice Tightens
Parbas ji altered the drills without announcement.
Shorter breaks.
Longer sequences.
No explanations.
A missed catch earned no scolding.
A repeated mistake earned a stare.
Rudra felt it immediately.
Expectation had shifted.
Not higher volume—higher standard.
He responded the only way he knew how.
Cleaner footwork.
Earlier movement.
Later release.
No extra effort.
Just fewer leaks.
System Observation (Passive)
During cooldown, the familiar alignment surfaced briefly.
Focus: sustained under scrutiny
Emotional Control: stable despite external pressure
Fielding: efficiency gain recorded
No EXP surge.
No thresholds crossed.
This kind of pressure didn't reward intensity.
It rewarded consistency without cracks.
A Small Test
One evening, Parbas ji rolled the ball back to Rudra instead of a bowler.
"Throw," he said.
Rudra picked up, turned, and threw—flat, quick.
"Again."
Five times. Ten.
On the eleventh, his arm lagged slightly.
Parbas ji stopped him. "Enough."
Not punishment.
Protection.
Rudra understood.
Being valued meant being preserved.
At Home
Saraswati Rao noticed the change before anyone else.
"You're quieter," she said while folding laundry.
"I'm thinking," Rudra replied.
She nodded, accepting that answer without pushing further.
Later, she placed a glass of warm milk beside him without comment.
Not celebration.
Sustainment.
Understanding the New Phase
That night, Rudra lay awake longer than usual.
In his first life, being noticed had fed his ego.
This time, it sharpened his caution.
Because attention didn't mean approval.
It meant surveillance.
Every mistake now counted twice.
Every strength was expected to repeat.
And only those who could perform without needing encouragement stayed.
Rudra welcomed that.
He had trained for silence.
The city outside moved on, unaware.
But somewhere—in school nets, in district files, in quiet clipboards—
Rudra Rao was no longer just a name.
He was a reference point.
And references were never judged once.
They were judged every day after.
Academy Grind — Eyes on Rudra
The academy wasn't announced.
It revealed itself.
Sunday Nets
Rudra noticed it first during a Sunday morning session at the KSCA auxiliary ground.
The bowlers were sharper.
The drills longer.
The breaks shorter.
And on the boundary—two unfamiliar men stood quietly, not wearing school colors.
One held a notebook.
The other watched without blinking.
They didn't cheer.
Didn't talk.
They measured.
The Grind Begins
This wasn't school cricket.
Here, mistakes weren't corrected immediately. They were noted.
Boys rotated through nets.
Some tried to impress—lofted shots, hard swings.
Others played safe and faded.
Rudra did neither.
He played his game.
Defend first.
Place second.
Run hard.
When tired, he slowed—not sloppily, deliberately.
That choice drew a glance from the man with the notebook.
System Status (Background Only)
The familiar alignment hovered briefly during recovery.
Stamina: sustained output under extended session
Decision Speed: stable under fatigue
Emotional Control: unbroken by presence of observers
No spikes.
The grind wasn't about growth today.
It was about durability.
A Small Moment
During a fielding drill, a ball skidded awkwardly.
Two boys hesitated.
Rudra moved early, got low, stopped it cleanly.
No applause.
But the notebook paused.
Names Without Introductions
Later, while filling bottles, Rudra overheard fragments.
"…from FTS…"
"…district feeder…"
"…that NITK kid…"
No name spoken fully.
That was how interest started—careful, incomplete.
At Home
That evening, Mahesh Rao asked casually, "Anyone new watching today?"
Rudra looked up. "Maybe."
Mahesh nodded once. He didn't ask more.
Both men understood how these things began.
Quietly.
Indirectly.
Understanding the Academy World
Lying in bed, muscles heavy, Rudra replayed the session.
Academies didn't chase talent.
They waited for it to survive boredom, fatigue, and anonymity.
Brilliance got attention once.
Endurance kept it.
And now, somewhere between long drills and silent notebooks—
Rudra had crossed an invisible line.
He wasn't being tested for what he could do.
He was being watched to see if he would keep doing it when no one promised anything.
The grind continued.
And so did the eyes on him.