The jeepney was too fast.
Jay held onto his school ID like it could protect him. The brakes screamed loudly. He smelled diesel. Someone shouted. Then everything crashed.
Metal hit metal. Glass shattered. Jay felt pain in his chest. He tried to call out.
"Ma!"
But no sound came out.
Everything went dark.
At first, there was nothing.
Then he heard water.
It was soft, like waves hitting wood.
Jay coughed.
His lungs burned. He opened his eyes slowly. The ceiling above him was made of woven nipa leaves. Sunlight came through the small holes. The air smelled like smoke and fish.
Someone was holding his shoulder.
"Breathe, Lakandula. You swallowed too much river."
Jay blinked. Lakandula?
He rolled to the side and coughed out water. His body felt strange. His hands were smaller. His skin was darker. His palms were rough like he had been working for years.
This wasn't his body.
Memories filled his head. His college classroom. His mother cooking adobo. The busy streets.
But at the same time, he knew this house. He knew the smell of the river. He knew the people around him.
A woman leaned close to him. She had faint blue tattoos on her cheeks.
"Can you hear me, bunso?" she asked softly.
Mother.
The word came to his mind without thinking.
He tried to speak. Only a weak sound came out.
She helped him drink something warm. It tasted like ginger.
"You will be fine," she said.
From the doorway, a girl laughed.
"He looks like a dying fish."
"Be quiet, Mayang," a man said firmly.
Jay looked at the man. He was tall and strong. His arms were muscular. His eyes were serious.
Father.
Jay felt nervous.
The man helped him stand up. Jay's legs were shaking.
"If your spirit is weak, we train it back," Father said.
He picked up a thin rattan stick.
"First stance."
Jay's body moved on its own. One foot forward. Knees bent.
The stick hit his side.
It hurt.
"Again."
Another hit. Harder.
Jay wanted to cry, but he forced himself to stay quiet.
Father looked at him carefully. Then he nodded.
"You are still here," he said.
Later, Jay stepped outside the house.
The village was beside a wide brown river. Small nipa houses stood on wooden posts. Canoes rested near the shore. Children ran around. Fish were hanging to dry under the sun.
There were no cars. No electric wires. No buildings.
Only trees. Jungle. River.
Jay whispered, "Where am I?"
The name Lakandula echoed inside his head.
A shadow moved behind him.
It was the girl from earlier — Mayang.
She handed him a small knife.
"Hide it," she said quietly. "Traders are coming next week. They say pale-skinned men are sailing south."
Jay stared at her.
"I don't understand—"
"You don't need to," she said. "Just don't act weak."
She walked away.
That night, they ate together.
Rice. Snails. Mango.
No one talked much.
Later, Father took Jay to a clearing. They trained again under the night sky. Jay's arms hurt. His legs were tired.
When it was finally over, Jay walked to the river alone.
He looked up at the stars. They looked brighter than he had ever seen before.
He knelt down near the water.
"I died," he whispered. "I came from the future. From a country called the Philippines."
The river kept flowing.
"I don't know why I'm here. But if this is the past… then I'll change it."
His hands shook.
"I won't let foreign kings rule this land. I'll make it strong. I promise."
The water touched his fingers.
Behind him, Mayang watched silently from the shadows. She didn't understand what he was saying. But she felt something strange in the air.
Jay stood up and threw a small stone across the river.
It skipped once.
Then sank.
The ripples spread across the water.
And something new began.