The air was buzzing with anticipation.

Tomorrow, the sports tournaments would officially kick off, and today, every player was on the field, pushing themselves harder than ever.

The energy was electric, a mix of excitement and nerves.

You could see it in the way everyone moved—a little faster, a little more focused.

There was a sense of determination that seemed to pulse through the entire field.

My friends and I were in the thick of it, practicing drills over and over again until our legs ached and sweat dripped from our brows.

"Keep your eyes up, pass faster," Steve shouted, his voice barely audible over the chaos around us.

We pushed ourselves, knowing that every second counted.

"You all are really amazing," a deep voice broke through our focus.

We turned to see Samuel, our goalkeeper and the captain of our team, standing there with a smile.

He was tall and built like a wall, the kind of presence that commanded respect.

Beside him was Felix, another third-year and a solid player, who had been a constant force in our practices.

"Yes, perhaps this time, we will win the tournament," Felix added with a grin.

There was a confidence in his voice that wasn’t just optimism; it was belief.

"Thank you, but you two are more amazing," I replied, still catching my breath.

Samuel chuckled. "Hey, now, don’t be humble. You've earned your spot on this team," he said, clapping me on the back.

His hand felt like a brick, solid and reassuring.

"No, I'm just saying the truth," I insisted, glancing at my friends who nodded in agreement.

Felix joined in with a knowing smile.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, tomorrow's your badminton match, right? Good luck with that. We'll be rooting for you," he said, his tone sincere.

I nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and nerves knotting in my stomach. “Thanks. I’ll need it.”

We got back to practice, and the day flew by in a blur of drills, sprints, and strategies.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, exhaustion was etched into every face on the field.

Yet, there was also a gleam of excitement in everyone’s eyes—the calm before the storm.

The next morning, the day of the sports ceremony finally arrived.

The school grounds were unrecognizable—colorful banners waved in the breeze, and a huge stage had been set up for the opening speeches.

The atmosphere was charged, filled with the sounds of chattering students, parents, and the occasional roar of a crowd getting hyped.

Sixteen schools had gathered here, each hoping to make their mark.

The ceremony began with a few speeches from the principal and some of the senior teachers.

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They spoke about teamwork, perseverance, and the spirit of sportsmanship.

Their words were meant to inspire, but all I could think about was the game—the moment I would step onto the court and face our opponents.

Then, it was time.

The sports activities officially kicked off with a thrilling sprinting race.

The format of the sprints tournament was straightforward yet challenging—a true test of endurance and skill.

Sixteen schools were divided into four blocks, with each block hosting four schools.

The top two schools from each block would advance, while the other two would be eliminated.

The remaining eight schools would then compete in pairs within two new blocks, with the top two from each block advancing once more.

The final four would face off in a single block, where the first, second, and third places would be decided based on their performance.

The matches were spread out over different days, allowing for a steady buildup of tension and excitement.

Today, the competition began with the sprinting event, where speed and precision would determine the victors.

At one time, eight players—two from each school—would race on the track, and the average time of both runners would be taken into account to determine the least time taken.

The fastest team would be declared the winner.

Our school was represented by Paul and a second-year student who had proven himself in the trials.

As the athletes lined up, I could see Paul stretching, his face set with a mix of determination and excitement.

The whistle blew, and like bullets fired from a starting gun, they were off.

Paul shot forward like a rocket, his legs moving with incredible speed and power.

The crowd's cheers roared around him, a wave of noise that seemed to push him forward.

I could hear shouts of encouragement from our school’s section, and even our seniors were on their feet.

The second-year runner wasn’t far behind, keeping a steady pace among the other competitors.

Paul crossed the finish line first, with a burst of energy that left everyone stunned.

The second-year wasn’t too far behind, finishing third.

When the times were tallied, the average for our school was the best, and we were declared the winners.

The cheers from our section were deafening.

Paul, hands on his knees, was catching his breath but had a wide grin plastered on his face.

Next up was the relay race, and Steve and Donovan were part of this team.

The format was the same as the sprints, but this time, four players from each school participated, passing the baton in a test of speed and coordination.

I watched them for a moment—Steve, calm and composed, his eyes sharp like a hawk’s, and Donovan, who had a fierce look of determination.

They were a strong pair, and I had faith in them.

Then came the shot put, and this was Gunther’s moment to shine.

The crowd around the shot put area grew as students gathered to see who could throw the farthest.

Gunther had been practicing hard, and I hoped he would make his mark today.

But I couldn’t stay to watch; my focus had to shift.

My badminton match was about to start.

I hurried to the waiting area, my heart pounding in my chest.

The butterflies in my stomach were in full flutter mode.

I could see the other players already there, stretching and warming up, a mix of faces from different schools.

Some looked nervous, others overly confident, and a few had the calm demeanor of seasoned players.

My gaze shifted to Sarah, who was swinging her racket with smooth, practiced motions.

She caught my eye and gave a slight nod—a silent message of encouragement that I clung to.

I tightened my grip on the racket, trying to calm the rapid beating of my heart.

The air was thick with tension, the kind that settles before something big happens.

I took a deep breath, focusing on the sound of my breath and the feel of the racket in my hand.

“Okay, everyone, don't worry too much and remember your training,” Davis said, his voice calm yet commanding.

As our senior, his words carried weight.

But for me, it wasn’t just his skill that made me listen carefully—Davis was Sarah's older brother.

When I found out they were siblings, I was stunned.

The connection made sense in hindsight; their athletic abilities were clearly in the blood.

Davis was the one who had taught Sarah how to play badminton, and his reputation preceded him.

He was known not just in our school but throughout the circuit, having led our school to victory in numerous tournaments.

“And you,” Davis pointed directly at me, his gaze sharp, “try your best not to make any mistakes, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, feeling the pressure mount.

His stare seemed to bore into my soul, leaving no room for excuses.

“Okay, everyone, get ready. It’s going to be our turn soon,” Mrs. Rebecca announced as she walked over, a clipboard in hand.

The atmosphere grew tenser as we all prepared ourselves.

I glanced over at my partner for this match—Davis.

It was a bit intimidating, to say the least, being paired with him.

But I could see the strategy; it was a calculated move by Mrs. Rebecca to give me experience while ensuring we had a strong player to anchor the team.

“Relax,” Ms. Mary, another senior, said with a friendly smile.

“Davis will be there to help you.” Unlike Davis, she had a warm, encouraging demeanor that made me feel slightly more at ease.

“Yes, don’t worry too much,” Sarah chimed in from the sidelines. “My brother is really good.”

I managed a small smile. “Yeah, I know. He’s the best.”

Sarah nodded. "Just play your game. Focus on what you’ve learned."

She was right, of course.

But it was hard not to be nervous.

Davis wasn’t just “really good.”

He was a powerhouse on the court—a one-man army when it came to badminton.

With him on our side, I knew we had a strong chance.

But I also didn’t want to let him down.

The minutes ticked by, each second feeling longer than the last.

I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, the adrenaline slowly taking over.

Our opponents were from a new school, which was why I was chosen to gain experience.

Davis, being the ace, was there to back me up.

“All right, you two,” Mrs. Rebecca called out. “Five minutes to go. Make sure you’re ready.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside me.

I looked over at Davis, who was adjusting his racket strings with a focused expression.

He looked so calm, so prepared—it was like nothing could rattle him.

“You nervous?” he asked suddenly, without looking up.

“A little,” I admitted. “I just don’t want to mess up.”

“Good,” he said, surprising me. “A little nervous energy keeps you sharp. But remember, don’t overthink. Just play your game, trust your instincts, and leave the rest to me. We’ll handle this.”

His words were strangely reassuring, a balance between encouragement and a reminder of the stakes.

I nodded, feeling a bit of the weight lift off my shoulders.

The time had come.

The referee called our names, and Davis and I stepped onto the court.

The court felt even larger from this vantage point, the net in the center looking both like a barrier and a gateway.

I could hear the low hum of the audience, a mix of murmurs, cheers, and whispers.

The opposing team, a pair of tall and athletic-looking players, took their positions on the other side of the net.

They looked confident, but I couldn’t let that get to me.

I had to focus.

The referee blew the whistle, and the match began.