The euphoria of the Asia Cup victory still buzzed in the air, a hum of adrenaline that hadn't quite faded even as the team bus pulled into the Taj Samudra in Colombo. The trophy was secured, the champagne had been sprayed, and the victory lap completed.
Siddanth Deva collapsed onto his hotel bed, still wearing his medal. The room was quiet, a stark contrast to the roar of the Dambulla crowd. He closed his eyes, his mind drifting away from the noise of the stadium to the silent, digital interface that only he could see.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
[CAMPAIGN COMPLETE: ASIA CUP 2010]
[RESULT: CHAMPION]
[IMPACT RATING: S-RANK]
The blue light pulsed in his mind's eye.
[REWARD UNLOCKED]
[SKILL ACQUIRED: MUAY THAI MASTERY (INTERMEDIATE)]
Description: "The Art of Eight Limbs." Proficiency in strikes using fists, elbows, knees, and shins. Enhanced clinching ability and core stability.
Status: Downloaded. Muscle Memory Integration: 100%.
Deva flexed his hands. He felt a new kind of sharpness in his knuckles, an intuitive understanding of weight transfer that felt different from cricket. He threw a quick, short elbow into the air while lying down. It snapped with frightening speed.
"Useful," he muttered.
He scrolled down to the next notification.
[TEMPLATE PROGRESS UPDATE]
[JACQUES KALLIS TEMPLATE: 45%]
Deva dismissed the screen. 45% Kallis meant he was nearly half the player the greatest all-rounder of all time was. That alone was enough to terrify most opposition.
He rolled over and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, the sleep of a champion.
---
The cricket calendar was relentless. The Asia Cup was done, but the Indian team wasn't flying home. They were staying in Sri Lanka for a Triangular Series involving New Zealand. However, the BCCI granted the squad a 3-day break before the next training camp began.
The seniors—Dhoni, Sehwag, Zaheer—opted for spa treatments and sleep.
The "Wolfpack"—Deva, Virat Kohli, Suresh Raina, Rohit Sharma, Ravichandran Ashwin, and Ravindra Jadeja—had other ideas.
Location: Bentota Beach, Sri Lanka.
Time: 10:00 AM.
The sun was shining brightly over the Indian Ocean. The water was a brilliant turquoise, crashing onto the golden sands of Bentota.
Five figures walked onto the beach, wearing board shorts, sunglasses, and enough sunscreen to reflect the sun itself.
"This is the life!" Virat shouted, spreading his arms wide. He was wearing bright red shorts and looked ready to sprint into the ocean.
"Careful, Chiku," Rohit drawled, adjusting his shades. "Don't pull a hamstring running to the water."
Deva stretched, feeling the sand between his toes. "No cricket today, boys. Strictly no cricket."
"Agreed," Raina said. "Today, we are just tourists."
---
They found a beach volleyball net set up near a shack. It didn't take long for their competitive instincts to kick in.
Teams were formed.
Team A: Deva, Ashwin, and Virat.
Team B: Raina, Rohit, and Jaddu.
"Loser buys dinner tonight," Deva announced, serving the ball.
He tossed it up and smashed a jump serve.
[Muay Thai Core Strength Active]
The ball flew like a rocket.
Rohit, standing lazily at the back, just watched it land.
"Too fast, Sid. Play nice," Rohit complained.
The game was intense. Virat was diving into the sand for every point, screaming "MINE!" even when the ball was nowhere near him. Jadeja was trying to do trick shots with his feet.
At 14-14, the rally of the match happened.
Raina spiked it. Ashwin dove and dug it out.
Virat set it up.
Deva leaped. He hung in the air for a second—the basketball vertical coming into play—and smashed the ball into the sand on the opponent's side.
"GAME!" Virat roared, high-fiving Deva.
"Cheating," Jaddu panted, covered in sand. "Deva has springs in his legs."
---
After the game, they walked further down the beach. They saw a parasailing boat pulling a tourist high into the air.
Virat's eyes lit up. "Oye! Let's do that!"
Raina looked interested. "That looks fun."
They walked towards the operator.
Just as they were about to ask for the price, Rohit's phone buzzed.
He looked at the message.
Sender: Gary Kirsten (Coach).
Message: "I heard there is parasailing near your hotel. Don't even think about it. If anyone gets injured, I will make you run laps until you vomit. Enjoy the beach. Stay on the ground."
Rohit showed the phone to the group.
"Gary knows," Rohit sighed. "He has spies everywhere."
"Probably Jaddu tweeting about it," Deva laughed.
They looked longingly at the parachute.
"Fine," Virat grumbled. "Safe fun it is. What is safe?"
---
They found a local vendor selling colorful kites.
"Kite flying!" Raina said. "Safe. Traditional. Gary can't ban kites."
They bought five kites.
It turned out that flying a kite in strong sea winds was harder than hitting a cover drive.
Rohit was surprisingly good at it. He stood in one spot, barely moving his wrist, and his kite soared high. "It's all about timing," he lectured.
Virat was struggling. His kite kept nose-diving into the sand.
"This kite is broken!" Virat yelled.
"It's the user, Chiku," Deva teased, his own kite flying steadily. "You're too aggressive. You're trying to sledge the wind."
They spent an hour maneuvering their kites, cutting each other's strings (Jaddu cut Virat's string and celebrated like he took a wicket), and running around like children. For a few hours, they weren't international superstars carrying the burden of a billion expectations. They were just twenty-somethings on a holiday.
---
Eventually, they got hungry and headed to a beach shack for fresh seafood.
As they sat down, a group of Indian tourists—a family from Mumbai—spotted them.
The teenage son looked like he was about to faint.
"Is that... is that Deva?" the son whispered.
Deva saw them. He nudged Virat. "Fans. 3 o'clock."
Usually, they would try to hide. But today, the mood was light.
"Let's say hi," Raina suggested.
They waved the family over.
The teenage boy approached, shaking. "Siddanth Deva? Virat Kohli?"
"In the flesh," Deva smiled. "Want an autograph?"
The boy scrambled for a napkin.
They signed it.
"You guys were amazing in the Asia Cup," the father said, beaming. "That final... Deva sir, that catch off your own bowling... magic."
"Thank you," Deva said. "Are you enjoying Sri Lanka?"
"Yes! We saw the match! We are flying back tomorrow."
They took a few photos.
As the family left, the boy looked back. "Good luck for the Tri-series! Beat New Zealand!"
"We will!" Virat shouted back.
---
As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of purple and orange, the group sat on the sand, watching the waves.
The laughter had died down. They were quiet, reflective.
"Crazy year, huh?" Raina said softly. "IPL, World T20, Asia Cup... it never stops."
"It's going to get crazier," Deva said, throwing a pebble into the ocean. "World Cup next year. At home."
The mention of the World Cup hung in the air.
"We have to win it," Virat said intensely. "For Sachin Paaji. It's his last chance."
"We will," Deva said. The confidence in his voice wasn't arrogance.
"But first," Virat said, standing up and dusting sand off his shorts. "Dinner. I'm starving. And Jaddu and Shanna are paying."
"I demand a rematch in volleyball," Jaddu said.
"Denied," Deva grinned. "Pay up, losers."
They walked back towards the hotel, the silhouette of five young men who were destined to rule the cricketing world.
The break was over. The recharge was complete.
Tomorrow, the nets awaited.