The first sign that something was wrong came during mathematics class.

Not because Sahil suddenly understood mathematics.

That would’ve been far more shocking.

The real problem was his phone.

It wouldn’t stop vibrating.

Once.

Twice.

Five times.

Then ten.

The device buzzed against the wooden desk so many times that even the student sitting beside him looked over.

"Your girlfriend is persistent."

Sahil didn’t bother responding.

Mostly because he didn’t have a girlfriend.

Partly because the teacher was already staring in their direction.

The next twenty minutes felt endless.

Every few moments the phone vibrated again.

Message.

Message.

Message.

Message.

Whatever was happening clearly wasn’t normal.

Even the district team group chat wasn’t usually this active before lunch.

By the time the bell finally rang, Sahil had accumulated nearly forty unread notifications.

Forty.

That alone felt concerning.

He immediately unlocked the screen.

The district group chat looked completely insane.

---

Danish: "NO CHANCE."

Kabir: "HE ACTUALLY DID IT."

Nitin: "District bowlers are crying right now."

Danish: "Someone check if his ego still fits inside the bus."

Kabir: "Too late."

---

Sahil frowned.

What exactly had happened?

A new message appeared immediately.

---

Danish: "LOOK AT THE RANKINGS."

---

Below it was a link.

A local cricket page.

One of the biggest district cricket accounts in Himachal.

The same account that had posted clips from the Viral Match.

The same account that constantly discussed district rankings and player statistics.

Sahil clicked it.

And froze.

---

HIMACHAL DISTRICT U-19 RANKINGS

Mid-Season Update

---

The graphic looked professional.

Much more professional than most local cricket content.

Names.

Teams.

Statistics.

Performance charts.

Everything.

---

His eyes immediately drifted toward the strike-rate rankings.

Then stopped completely.

---

TOP STRIKE RATE BATSMEN

Minimum 150 Runs

---

#1 Raghav Sharma Mandi District U-19

Strike Rate: 181.4

---

#2 Karan Thakur Bilaspur District U-19

Strike Rate: 176.9

---

#3 Sahil Choudhary Kangra District U-19

Strike Rate: 172.8

---

#4 Aryan Malhotra Kangra District U-19

Strike Rate: 158.3

---

#5 Vivek Rana Chamba District U-19

Strike Rate: 152.6

---

For several seconds he simply stared.

The corridor around him disappeared.

Students walked past.

Teachers moved between classrooms.

Someone dropped a notebook nearby.

Sahil noticed none of it.

---

Top three.

Entire district.

Not Kangra.

Not his team.

Every district.

Every player.

Every batting lineup.

---

A strange feeling settled inside his chest.

Not excitement.

Not exactly.

Something quieter.

Something deeper.

Validation.

---

Months ago he had been struggling to make the Playing XI.

Months ago he would’ve celebrated carrying drinks during district matches.

Months ago nobody outside Kangra knew his name.

Now?

His name sat beside players people talked about.

Players coaches respected.

Players opponents prepared for.

---

His thumb moved downward.

Toward the next category.

And suddenly everything else stopped mattering.

---

MOST SIXES

---

#1 Sahil Choudhary Kangra District U-19

29 SIXES

---

#2 Raghav Sharma Mandi District U-19

21 Sixes

---

#3 Karan Thakur Bilaspur District U-19

18 Sixes

---

#4 Aryan Malhotra Kangra District U-19

16 Sixes

---

#5 Rohit Chauhan Hamirpur District U-19

14 Sixes

---

Sahil blinked.

Then looked again.

---

Number one.

---

Not second.

Not third.

Not top five.

Number one.

---

His heart skipped slightly.

The difference shocked him even more.

Twenty-nine.

Eight ahead of second place.

Eleven ahead of third.

---

The statistic suddenly explained why bowlers hated him.

---

His phone vibrated again.

A private message from Danish.

---

"Mr. Number One."

---

Another followed instantly.

---

"Please remember us normal people when you become famous."

---

Then another.

---

"Actually don’t. Your autograph will be expensive."

---

Despite himself, Sahil laughed.

A few nearby students glanced toward him.

He ignored them.

---

For the next several minutes he continued scrolling.

More rankings.

More categories.

More names.

---

Then he noticed the comments.

Hundreds of them.

Most discussing rankings.

Most arguing.

Because cricket fans loved arguing almost as much as they loved cricket.

---

"Sahil deserves Top 3."

"Best finisher in district cricket."

"Watch his Viral Match innings."

"Most dangerous death-over batter."

"Future state player."

---

That final comment caught his attention.

Future state player.

The words felt strange.

Too big.

Too distant.

---

A year ago, state cricket had felt impossible.

A different world entirely.

Now random people were discussing it casually.

The thought felt surreal.

---

His phone rang again.

This time a call.

Danish.

Of course.

---

The moment Sahil answered, shouting exploded through the speaker.

---

"NUMBER ONE!"

---

Sahil immediately pulled the phone away from his ear.

Several students turned around.

One teacher looked annoyed.

---

"Are you done?"

---

"No."

---

"Thought so."

---

"You are officially Kangra’s licensed six-hitting maniac."

---

Sahil laughed.

---

"I don’t think that’s an actual title."

---

"It is now."

---

The left-hander sounded genuinely excited.

And honestly?

That excitement felt good.

Because Danish had been there from the beginning.

The failures.

The trials.

The bench matches.

The bad days.

---

He understood how far this journey had come.

---

"You know what’s funny?" Danish suddenly asked.

---

"What?"

---

"Remember when the coach nearly dropped you after that failed chase?"

---

The memory returned instantly.

The dismissal.

The frustration.

The disappointment.

---

"Yeah."

---

"And now you’re leading district six-hitting rankings."

---

Silence followed.

---

Because neither of them needed to explain the point.

---

Progress looked obvious in hindsight.

While living through it?

Not so much.

---

The conversation ended only when training time approached.

Sahil slipped the phone into his pocket and started walking toward the district ground.

The rankings remained on his mind.

The comments remained on his mind.

Everything remained on his mind.

---

Yet the closer he got to training, the more another thought appeared.

A different thought.

A dangerous one.

---

Rankings weren’t just recognition.

They were visibility.

---

Visibility meant attention.

---

Attention meant preparation.

---

And preparation meant something very simple.

---

Every bowler in the district had just received a new target.

---

His name.

---

As the gates of the district stadium appeared ahead of him, a familiar feeling settled inside his stomach.

Not fear.

Not pressure.

Something in between.

---

Because for the first time in his cricket career—

people weren’t underestimating him anymore.

And somehow, that felt more dangerous than being ignored.

Chapter 31 — District Rankings (Part 2)

By the time Sahil reached the district ground, the rankings had already beaten him there.

He realized that the moment he stepped through the gate.

Three younger academy players standing near the practice nets immediately stopped talking.

One nudged the other.

The second turned.

Then all three looked directly at him.

Not casually.

Recognizably.

---

"That’s him."

The words carried clearly through the afternoon air.

The youngest boy looked embarrassed after realizing Sahil had heard.

His friends immediately started laughing.

---

Sahil shook his head and continued walking.

The interaction lasted less than ten seconds.

Yet somehow it stayed with him.

A few months ago nobody would’ve looked twice.

Now people recognized him before he even reached the dressing room.

The realization felt strange.

Not unpleasant.

Just strange.

---

The dressing room door opened.

Chaos greeted him immediately.

---

A loud clap echoed from somewhere inside.

Then another.

Then another.

Within seconds nearly the entire room joined in.

---

"NUMBER ONE HAS ARRIVED!"

Kabir stood on a bench dramatically.

Pointing toward the entrance like a royal announcer.

---

The room erupted.

Water bottles hit tables.

Someone whistled.

A bowler pretended to bow.

---

Sahil immediately regretted entering.

---

"Thank you, thank you."

Danish spread his arms dramatically.

"As Sahil’s manager, I will now be taking sponsorship offers."

---

"You aren’t my manager."

---

"That’s exactly what a celebrity would say."

---

The room laughed again.

Even some of the quieter players were smiling.

---

For several minutes the jokes continued.

Most were terrible.

A few were surprisingly creative.

All were unavoidable.

---

Then the door opened.

---

The coach entered.

---

Silence arrived instantly.

---

Not gradual silence.

Not respectful silence.

Immediate silence.

The kind only experienced coaches could create.

---

The older man looked around the room.

His eyes settled briefly on the rankings screenshot pinned to the whiteboard.

Then on Sahil.

Then on everyone else.

---

"Congratulations."

---

The single word surprised the entire squad.

Including Sahil.

---

The coach wasn’t a man who distributed praise freely.

Most players considered a nod equivalent to a standing ovation.

---

Yet before anyone could react, he continued.

---

"Enjoy it today."

---

Silence.

---

"Forget it tomorrow."

---

The atmosphere changed immediately.

The joking disappeared.

The smiles faded slightly.

Everyone listened.

---

The coach pointed toward the rankings.

---

"Do you know what these mean?"

---

Nobody answered.

---

The older man tapped Sahil’s name.

---

"It means bowlers know who you are."

---

Another pause.

---

"It means captains discuss you before matches."

---

His finger remained on the board.

---

"It means every team meeting now includes your name."

---

The words landed harder than any compliment.

Because they felt true.

Painfully true.

---

The coach stepped back.

---

"Success creates attention."

---

Silence.

---

"Attention creates pressure."

---

More silence.

---

"Pressure exposes weaknesses."

---

Nobody spoke.

Nobody moved.

The room felt completely still.

---

Then the coach folded his arms.

---

"Question is..."

---

His eyes settled directly on Sahil.

---

"What weaknesses are left?"

---

The challenge hung in the air.

---

Not criticism.

Not praise.

A challenge.

---

And somehow that felt far more valuable.

---

Training began shortly afterward.

The atmosphere around the nets felt different.

Subtle.

Yet noticeable.

---

The bowlers attacked him harder.

Much harder.

---

Normally teammates joked during net sessions.

Experimented.

Tried things.

---

Today?

They wanted his wicket.

---

The rankings had transformed practice into competition.

---

The first fast bowler charged in.

A sharp bouncer flew toward shoulder height.

---

Sahil ducked.

The ball sailed past.

---

"Almost got him!"

The bowler grinned.

---

"Didn’t count."

Sahil adjusted his gloves.

---

The next ball landed full.

Yorker length.

Perfect execution.

---

The bat came down just in time.

The ball squeezed away for a single.

---

The bowler looked annoyed.

---

Good.

---

The contest continued.

Ball after ball.

Over after over.

---

Every boundary received reactions.

Every mistake received reactions.

Every near-dismissal received reactions.

---

By the middle of the session, the entire atmosphere felt like a match.

---

Across another net, Aryan watched quietly.

As usual.

The academy batsman rarely wasted energy talking.

Instead, he observed.

---

Which made it surprising when he eventually walked over.

---

The session had ended.

Most players were collecting equipment.

The coaches discussed something near the pavilion.

---

Aryan stopped beside him.

Looking toward the practice wickets.

---

For several moments neither spoke.

---

Then Aryan broke the silence.

---

"Top six hitter."

---

The words carried a hint of amusement.

---

Sahil smirked.

---

"Jealous?"

---

Aryan actually laughed.

A rare sight.

---

"Not even slightly."

---

The academy batsman looked toward the scoreboard.

---

"Strike rate rankings annoyed me more."

---

Now it was Sahil’s turn to laugh.

---

Because that sounded exactly like Aryan.

---

The rivalry between them had changed over the season.

Less hostility.

More competition.

---

Neither wanted the other to fail.

Neither wanted the other to win either.

---

An unusual balance.

---

Aryan folded his arms.

---

"You know what happens now?"

---

"What?"

---

"People stop underestimating you."

---

The same lesson.

Again.

From a different person.

---

Which probably meant it was important.

---

The academy batsman nodded toward the nets.

---

"You’ve been hunting bowlers."

---

Silence.

---

"Now bowlers hunt you."

---

Then he walked away.

Typical Aryan.

Three useful sentences.

Then disappearance.

---

The sun slowly began dropping toward the hills.

Orange light stretched across the outfield.

Long shadows covered the practice square.

Players gradually left.

One by one.

Until eventually the ground felt quiet again.

---

Sahil remained near the boundary rope.

Watching.

Thinking.

---

The rankings still sat in the back of his mind.

Not because of the achievement.

Because of what came next.

---

Top players weren’t judged by reaching the top.

They were judged by staying there.

---

Also he thought of something else, something more important than anything

State selection.

---

Not guaranteed.

Not confirmed.

Not even close.

---

Yet for the first time, the possibility felt real.

---

The evening wind moved gently across the empty stadium.

Somewhere beyond Kangra, beyond district cricket, beyond local rankings—

a bigger stage waited.

Stronger bowlers.

Larger crowds.

Higher stakes.

---

And if he wanted to reach it—

being number one six hitter wouldn’t be enough.

---

As darkness slowly settled over the ground, a small smile appeared on his face.

---

Because he lover challenges

And deep down—

he’d always played his best cricket when the challenge looked impossible.