(Riki Dela Peña — Flowstate Gym, State University)
Riki walked in with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
The light flickered once, as if greeting him back.
Teo was by the far side, running slow post drills with his dad watching from the courtside.
Bong sat by the speaker, rewiring the aux cord for the hundredth time.
Thea leaned against the scorer's table, reading something off her tablet.
"Morning, Coach," Bong called out.
Riki smirked. "Since when did broke guys get promoted?"
The Talk
They all gathered near half-court.
The rain outside was steady enough to fill the silence.
Riki dropped the notebook on the floor — the one filled with debts and dreams.
"There's an invitational in Cebu," he said. "Hundred-thousand pesos pot. School teams, semi-pros, full crowd."
Teo stopped mid-drill. "Cebu? That's... far."
"Yeah," Riki replied. "Far enough to matter."
Thea crossed her arms. "And far enough to bankrupt you if you don't plan this right."
He nodded, taking the hit. "I know. But if we win—"
Teo cut in, calm but heavy. "I can't go."
Everyone looked at him.
"My dad's check-ups start next week. Coach Alavarez said I need to stay close."
His father coughed from the side but managed a grin. "Go chase the game, anak. I'll still be here."
Teo shook his head. "No. I already missed too much time."
Bong stood, stretching his back.
"I'd go, bro. You know I would. But... my sister's getting married."
He scratched his head. "If I miss it, my mom'll disown me. Again."
Thea looked at Riki. "That leaves?"
He turned to the others near the doorway.
Drei, Jax, and Kio were already there — listening.
Drei tossed a towel over his shoulder. "If you're going, I'm in."
Jax cracked his knuckles. "Road trip, baby."
Kio added, "Someone's gotta keep these two from getting arrested."
Thea's Verdict
Thea exhaled through her nose, slow.
"So... Cebu with half a team."
"Half's better than none," Riki said.
"Half a plan's still suicide," she countered.
He grinned. "That's Flowstate, right?"
She glared, then sighed — losing to his confidence again.
"Fine. But you figure out the money. Tickets, stay, food — no one's swiping my GCash this time."
He saluted. "Yes, ma'am."
"Riki," she said before he left.
He looked back.
"Don't make this another Bridgefire."
He smiled faintly. "Wouldn't dream of it."
The Decision
He stepped out of the gym into the drizzle, pulling his hood up.
The noise of traffic faded under the hum of rain.
He looked at his hands — scarred from years of asphalt, tape, and pressure.
"Hundred thousand pesos," he whispered. "One more rhythm to chase."
Behind him, the court light flickered once, then steadied —
as if Flowstate itself was nodding him on.
End of Chapter 3 — "Southbound Call"