The air in Kochi was different now.
It wasn't the heat or the humidity — it was the eyes. The weight of attention. Arjun felt it walking out of the airport, in the hotel elevator, in the way people paused before asking for selfies.
He was no longer just Kerala Blasters' star.
He was India's boy.
But in the dressing room at Panampilly Nagar, he was still one of them.
Faizan grinned as Arjun walked in, suitcase in one hand, national team kit bag in the other.
"You want a welcome back song?" he joked.
Sahal leaned over. "Only if he sings the second verse of 'Oru paadam, oru veeran…'"
Laughter.
Coach Sameer didn't smile. But his nod meant everything.
"Welcome back," he said. "You've got 48 hours before we fly out."
---
✦ Shandong Taishan Awaited
China. Away leg first. Quarterfinal of the AFC Champions League. No Indian team had ever come this far.
The opponents were brutal — fast on transitions, compact in the press, and three-time Chinese Super League champions.
"Don't romanticize it," Coach Sameer said in the tactical room. "They're beatable. But only if we believe this isn't a miracle run. We earned this."
He looked at Arjun.
"You included."
---
✦ Pressure in the Headlines
Sportskeeda called it "The Last Wall."
ESPN India wrote: "If Kerala go past Shandong, it'll be Arjun Dev's passport to Europe."
In WhatsApp groups and YouTube comment sections, fans debated his future:
> "Let him go already. Bundesliga will sharpen him."
"Not now. Not before we finish this dream."
"He's the elephant. He marches only when he decides."
---
✦ Night Before the Flight – Family Table
Arjun sat at home in Thrissur. His mother served him fish curry, rice, and beetroot thoran.
She didn't ask about Germany. Or the national team.
Only this:
"Will you come back once it's all done?"
"I'll always come back, Amma," he said.
She placed a small packet in his hand. A thread, blessed in the temple, tied by her.
"Not for luck. For memory," she said.
He tied it around his wrist, just below his captain's band.
---
✦ The Flight to China
The team sat in business class — a reward from the club's new sponsors. The Blasters were no longer just a football team; they were an international story.
Faizan sat beside Arjun.
"I heard Meera Seth met you," he said.
Arjun nodded.
"She's the real deal," Faizan added. "I was scouted too, remember? But I'm not ready. Not yet."
"You will be," Arjun said.
"What about you?"
Arjun looked out the window, the clouds endless.
"I'm not ready to leave this part behind. Not until we finish something... beautiful."
Faizan smirked. "You're too poetic for a footballer."
---
✦ Arrival in Jinan
The city was cold. Crisp. Orderly.
The stadium was massive, the stands steep, the grass cut like velvet.
Kerala Blasters trained under lights — their yellow kits glowing like lanterns in the dusk.
Journalists from China, Japan, South Korea gathered to snap photos of Arjun. One camera caught him kissing the wrist thread before training.
He didn't know they zoomed in.
By morning, the image had gone viral in China.
> "The Elephant's Prayer" — read one Mandarin headline.
"He ties his past to his boots. He's not just playing football. He's carrying something sacred."
---
✦ The Eve of the Quarterfinal — Team Talk
Coach Sameer gathered them in the hotel conference room.
"No history to rely on. No legends to draw from," he said. "We are the history now. We are the story."
He looked at Sahal, then Rahul, then Faizan, then Arjun.
"Let them be taller, faster, richer. Doesn't matter."
He raised one finger.
"Just remember this: They've never played us. And we don't fear what we haven't seen."
He pointed to the projector screen.
It played a clip — Arjun's dummy assist against Uzbekistan.
Then faded to black.
The room was silent.
And then, the chant began — softly at first, then louder:
> "Oru paadam, oru veeran…
Marannilla njangale!"
---
✦ Final Scene — Alone Under Lights
Arjun walked alone onto the empty pitch after dinner. Jinan Olympic Sports Center. The stands towered above him like a Roman amphitheater.
He knelt at the edge of the center circle.
Closed his eyes.
He could feel it now — fragments. Not quite visions. Not dreams.
Moments.
A red jersey. A silver trophy. A Kop stand roaring his name.
A son on his shoulders.
He shook the thoughts away.
This was now. This was real.
He stood.
And marched toward the tunnel.
---