The week blurred away, and today they're traveling to where the competition is being hosted. Dayo was a bit tense, even though he had been training. After all, this was his first time competing in a national team in both his lives.

Richard, who sat beside Dayo, could see that he was a bit tense, which was usual, as first-timers always had nerves — even pro athletes did — so it was quite normal.

"Dayo, are you nervous?"

Dayo smiled and nodded his head. "Yeah, a bit."

Richard gave his usual smile. "Good, then it means you care. So hold on to that feeling."

"Hmmm." Dayo just hummed and kept looking outside as they were about to land, and their destination was Sacramento, California.

Upon landing, the whole of California had a warm day of about 13°C. Dayo, Richard, and Sharon finished their checks and moved to their hotel, which was the official host hotel designated for the competition.

They all went to their respective rooms, as the competition would start in two days, so rest was paramount for peak performance.

***

Meanwhile, Michael sat in his office, staring quietly at the tablet screen in front of him. The video on display was a clip from a small charity event — the same one where Dayo had gone up against George in the swimming race. He leaned back in his chair, one hand under his chin, the other tapping the desk lightly as the replay ended.

He muttered under his breath, "What are you playing at now, Dayo?"

The video wasn't gaining any attention online — barely a few thousand views — but that didn't matter. Michael had learned long ago that when it came to Dayo, nothing was ever simple. Every move, no matter how small, had a reason behind it.

He paused the video, staring at the frame where Dayo touched the wall, almost beating George. "After four years of silence," he whispered. "You suddenly show up in a charity swim?"

Clara, his assistant, stepped into the room with a tablet in hand. "Sir, should I keep monitoring ?"

Michael nodded without looking away from the screen. "Yes. Whatever happens, anything at all — I want to know. Immediately."

"Yes, sir." Clara bowed slightly and left the room.

The door shut softly, leaving Michael alone with his thoughts. He let out a quiet sigh and swiveled his chair to face the window, his reflection faint against the glass. "It can't be him… can it?" he murmured. "But then again, with Dayo, you never know."

He sat there for a few seconds, lost in thought. The last time he underestimated Dayo, four years ago, it had cost him a lot — his peace, almost his position, and his career. Dayo still had evidence that could ruin him if it ever came to light. That alone made Michael uneasy.

"Whatever you're planning," he muttered again, "I'll be watching."

***

Two days later, the morning sun rose gently over Sacramento, casting a golden hue over the wide streets. The city was lively as usual, and the pool complex hosting the national competition buzzed with activity, and a few media houses were there to cover it.

Dayo, Richard, and Sharon walked side by side into the registration area. They had already signed up earlier in the week; this visit was just to confirm their details. The air inside was cool and smelled faintly of chlorine.

Dayo looked calm on the outside, but deep down, he could feel his heartbeat quicken. This was his first real competition — not a small local event or charity race, but a national-level contest. He would never have believed that he would find himself here, but now he is here, a National champion for the first time.

They finished confirming their details, and as they turned to leave, Richard suddenly froze. He spotted someone familiar across the hallway — a man in his late forties, tall, sharp-eyed, wearing a navy-blue jacket with the logo of the National Swimming Federation.

Before Richard could turn away, the man called out. "Richard?"

Richard's body stiffened. He turned slowly, forcing a polite smile. "Martin… It's been a while."

Coach Martin smirked and walked closer, his hands in his pockets. "A while indeed. You've been avoiding me, huh? What's this? You training athletes now?"

Richard stayed calm. "Something like that."

Martin's tone grew mockingly light. "After what you did, you've got the nerve to stand here with another athlete?"

Dayo's eyes moved between the two men. The tension was clear, thick enough to taste. He could tell from the way Richard's jaw tightened that this wasn't a friendly reunion.

Then Martin's gaze shifted toward Dayo. "Your face looks familiar," he said, squinting. "Where have I seen you before?"

He tried to scan through his memories to see if he could recognize Dayo, but all in vain.

Dayo didn't answer. He simply looked at him, his face expressionless.

Before Martin could say anything else, another voice joined in. "Hey, you!"

A younger man, probably in his mid-twenties, stepped forward. His build was lean but muscular; from his stature, you could tell that he was an athlete. His name tag read Alex.

"You can't just ignore Coach Martin like that," Alex said sharply. "Do you know who you're standing in front of? This is the assistant coach of the national swimming team — soon to be the head coach!"

Dayo turned his head slightly. "And so?"

Alex frowned. "What did you just say?"

Richard could already feel things escalating. "Dayo, let's just go."

But Alex didn't stop. "Do you even understand how this sport works? If you ever hope to have a career in swimming, you need to respect people like Coach Martin."

Dayo's tone stayed calm, but his words were sharp. "Respect is earned, not demanded."

That caught everyone off guard — even Sharon, who blinked in surprise. Alex stepped forward, his voice louder now. "What did you say?"

Richard grabbed Dayo's shoulder, trying to steer him away, but Dayo was already done pretending. His gaze hardened, his voice flat. "You heard me. Both of you can go fuck yourselves."

The hallway went silent.

Richard muttered quickly, "That's enough, Dayo. Let's go." He nodded at Martin stiffly and walked off with Dayo beside him. Sharon followed quietly, glancing back once before they exited the hall.

Outside, the tension finally broke. Richard exhaled, rubbing his temples. "You really don't hold back, do you?"

Dayo shrugged. "He started it."

Richard chuckled softly, shaking his head. "That man, Martin — he used to be my colleague. We both coached for the national team years ago. But something happened… a scandal involving a young swimmer's doping test. The results were tampered with, and I took the fall for it. Lost my spot. He got promoted."

Dayo listened quietly, his face unreadable. "So he ruined your career."

Richard didn't deny it. "Something like that."

Dayo's expression softened slightly. "Don't worry. I'll make sure he's the one watching from the sidelines next time."

Richard laughed at that — a tired, honest laugh. "That's the spirit."

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