The Daet Provincial Sports Complex was a storm of color and sound. Flags fluttered like war banners, chants rang out in rhythmic waves, and the scent of sunblock, liniment, and freshly steamed siopao wove through the tropical heat.
Gubat Coastal High's full athletic delegation had arrived two days ago—badminton, basketball, volleyball, tennis, and even chess—each team carrying dreams, water bottles, and Coach Cely's voice in their heads yelling, "Hydrate or die-drate!"
Badminton Assembly – Under the Mango Tree
Coach Cely stood beneath a large mango tree, clipboard in one hand, thermos in the other. Her visor was crooked. Her presence was divine chaos.
"We're not just here to win," she said. "We're here to make our ancestors proud. To make the waves of Gubat crash louder. To make other teams question their life choices!"
The badminton team erupted in a loud "YES, COACH!"—except Alona, who was already bouncing lightly, her focus so sharp it could slice shuttlecocks in midair.
Nina nudged her. "You good?"
Alona nodded, not taking her eyes off the gymnasium. "Dialed in."
Behind them, Yumi whispered to Nina, "This is how anime girls look before the final battle."
Nina whispered back, "She's either about to slay… or fall in love."
Clarisse Valerio – The Ice Queen Returns
Inside the gym, every court was alive. Shoes squeaked. Shuttles flew. The sound of plastic meeting strings echoed like raindrops on rooftops.
At the far end stood Clarisse Valerio—tall, composed, terrifying.
A returning champion from Sorsogon Science High, she stood still while others warmed up, then sent a single shuttle flying into the wall padding with one smash.
It stuck. Thunk.
"Is the wall okay?" someone whispered.
Clarisse turned, eyes like steel, and locked on Alona from across the gym. No smile. Just the quiet nod of someone recognizing a worthy opponent.
Round One – Alona the Storm
The first match came and went in a blur. Alona won 21–9, 21–11. Clean. Surgical.
"Beautiful," Coach Cely said. "Too beautiful. Clarisse won't fall for that."
Alona wiped sweat from her brow, but her mind was already skipping ahead.
Clarisse. That shadow was already looming.
Basketball: Under the Rim and Over the Moon
Meanwhile, on the sun-scorched outdoor court, Dane was in battle mode.
Their match against Camarines Norte Tech was brutal—fast breaks, hard fouls, three-pointers that danced with fate.
Dane sliced through defenders, passed like lightning, and took hits like a wall. Every time he got knocked down, he got up. Again. And again.
At one point, he glanced across the sports complex, past the cheering crowd, to the badminton gym.
To her.
The Semifinal Showdown – Alona vs. Clarisse
It came faster than expected.
Semifinals. Girls' Singles.
Alona vs. Clarisse.
Yumi and Nina had secured front-row seats, armed with popcorn, Gatorade, and unblinking eyes.
From the moment the shuttlecock flew, it was war.
Clarisse's smashes hit like thunderclaps. She controlled the pace, her feet silent and terrifying.
Alona danced—countered, flicked, dived. She turned rallies into survival drills.
First set: 17–21. Clarisse.
Coach Cely didn't panic. She crouched by Alona and whispered, "She likes clean. Give her chaos. Confuse her tempo."
Second set: Alona let go.
Her footwork shifted. Her timing turned unpredictable. She dropped a slow shot, followed by an immediate smash. Her breathing was ragged, but her will was sharp.
21–18. Alona.
The third set was not a match—it was a symphony of tension.
The crowd stopped speaking. Even players from other schools gathered around the gym doors.
Rally after rally. Point after point.
Clarisse: smash. Alona: return. Alona: drop. Clarisse: dive.
At 19–19, Clarisse pulled out her ace—a spinning net shot so delicate it looked like a whisper.
Alona lunged—too late.
Then the final rally.
Clarisse smashed to the baseline.
Alona didn't move.
Line judge raised the flag.
21–19. Clarisse wins.
After the Storm
Alona didn't cry.
She sat on the court, chest rising and falling, racket still gripped like a lifeline.
Clarisse walked over and extended a hand. "That was the most fun I've had in months."
Alona took it, eyes fierce. "Same."
Clarisse smiled. "Let's meet again at Regionals. Then Nationals."
Alona nodded. "I'll be stronger by then."
Outside the Gym
Yumi's arms were crossed, lips in a pout. "That match gave me whiplash and emotional trauma."
Nina was still rewatching a rally she recorded at 15–15. "This one cured my acne."
Then Dane walked in, sweaty from his own game, a bottle of Gatorade in hand.
He didn't say much. Just handed it over.
"You were incredible," he said, his voice quieter than the crowd.
"She was better," Alona replied.
"No," Dane said. "She just won today. But you—you're the reason people stayed to watch."
Alona blinked. Her heart was still thudding.
"Don't say that," she whispered.
"Why not?"
Behind a row of potted plants, Yumi gasped. "Nina… Nina, it's happening."
"I KNOW," Nina hissed. "DON'T BREATHE."