Manila Coliseum — Night
The air inside moved like it didn't belong to anyone.
Every sound bounced longer than it should—shoe squeaks, breath, the crowd's restless hum.
At center court, Big Dribbling Energy's black-and-red uniforms caught the glare.
Across from them, Flowstate stood quiet in gray.
Five kids who didn't fit the commercial.
Big D Baskin raised his mic.
Big D: "Manila! You ready for that Big Energy?!"
The crowd broke.
Renz didn't.
Coach Alvarez's voice stayed low.
Coach Alvarez: "Let it pass."
Tip-Off
Whistle.
Zo and Teo left the floor together.
Ball hit open air.
First contact.
Lamel's three dropped clean.
The dome shook.
Renz answered—cut, gather, reverse.
No noise.
2–2.
Just rhythm.
First Quarter
BDE played for cameras.
Flowstate played for breath.
Every black-and-red jersey glided sharp and loud—until the timing slipped.
Rico hesitated on a pass.
Bornok crushed the lane, set a screen that rattled the boards.
Renz drifted baseline, body twist, glass, in.
The crowd started following the ball instead of the lights.
Timeout
Big D waved both arms.
Big D: "Push tempo! Give 'em highlights!"
Coach Alvarez barely looked up.
Coach Alvarez: "Slow it down. They'll run out of air before we do."
Second Quarter
Everything fell into pattern—beat, breath, slip, score.
Thea's notes blurred with sweat.
She didn't write numbers anymore, only words:
control, space, timing.
Rico checked in.
The crowd roared like they'd been waiting to.
First drive—clean.
Riki met him hip-to-hip.
Block.
Scramble.
Bornok dived, sent it ahead.
Renz up, two hands.
Silence, then eruption.
Timeout again.
Scoreboard read 24–20.
Halftime
Big D paced like a storm in gold chains.
Thea stood by the tunnel, headset crooked, listening to nothing.
Coach Alvarez gathered the team.
Coach Alvarez: "They sell moments. We build them."
Renz looked toward the other bench—Rico staring at the floor.
Third Quarter
BDE tried to burn the court down—alley-oops, no-look passes, red streaks across black paint.
None landed clean.
Flowstate dragged the rhythm down again.
Heavy. Patient. Unshakable.
Drei hit from mid-range.
Renz floated another.
Teo sealed the paint.
The noise turned uneven, half cheers, half confusion.
Big D kept shouting over the headset.
Rico kept ignoring him.
Final Minute
Score tied. 68–68.
Thirty seconds.
Everything sounded slower.
Rico held the ball near half court.
Sweat in his eyes.
Riki crouched low, waiting.
Clock bleeding down.
Big D: "Make the show, son! End it big!"
Rico didn't move.
He just breathed.
Dribbled once.
Twice.
Then he looked past the lights—to Thea.
She shook her head once, barely.
He nodded.
Drive.
Left.
Riki stepped in.
Contact.
Ball loose.
Teo tipped it.
Renz caught—running.
The sound of sneakers swallowed the crowd.
Clock at three.
Renz lifted from the wing, body twisting.
One hand on the ball.
Light cutting across his face.
Everything hung—
CUT TO BLACK.
Only the whistle.
Then nothing.
END OF PART V — "The Game"
(Next — Part VI: "The Showdown.")