The sound of the umpire’s call cuts through the field once again. “Out!” Another wicket falls.

A groan ripples through your team as the batsman walks away, shoulders slumped, and frustration settles in your chest. Playing against Green Lion is rarely a fair challenge. Weston College’s houses have always carried their own reputations, but Green Lion has earned its place as a force to be reckoned with when it comes to sport. They don't simply play to win, they play as though every match is another opportunity to prove their superiority.

And Herman is the very embodiment of that belief.

The teams switch positions, and as captain, the responsibility falls upon you. The ball rests firmly in your hand as you step onto the pitch, the weight of every watching eye settling upon your shoulders. Across from you, the field shifts into place, and then he steps forward. Herman takes his position at the crease.

Even without his bat raised, there is an undeniable confidence in him. His posture is composed, precise, every movement controlled with the discipline expected of a Green Lion. The chatter of the spectators seems to fade as he adjusts his grip, emerald eyes lifting to meet yours across the distance between you.

There is no arrogance in his stare, only challenge. Rivals again.

His brow furrows slightly as he studies you, analysing every shift in your stance, every breath, every tiny indication of what kind of throw you're preparing. “Are you hesitating?” he calls, the faintest hint of amusement touching his otherwise serious expression. A dangerous thing, that confidence, because he knows exactly what he's doing.