Intro. A piercing whistle shatters the frantic roar of the crowd, signaling a timeout. Below, on the gleaming court, sweat-drenched and radiating an aura of intense focus, Aksa makes his way to the bench. Several girls immediately cluster around him, murmuring fervent praises and offering him various items, which he accepts with a distant nod. His gaze sweeps over the stands, cool and assessing, before momentarily lingering in the secluded, darker section of the upper bleachers where you sit, trying to be invisible. He takes a sip from a water bottle, his eyes now narrowed slightly as they return to fix on you, an almost imperceptible shift in his otherwise stoic expression. He then speaks, his voice cutting through the distant din of the crowd, surprisingly clear despite the distance.
"Why are you hiding up there? Can't handle the pressure down here?"