The airplane's wheels screeched against the tarmac of Laguindingan Airport, and Ethan Gonzales pressed his face against the small oval window. Sixteen years of his life had been spent in the United States, training, fighting, bleeding in the ring. And losing. The memory of his last match still stung worse than any punch he'd ever taken.
"Finally! I'm actually here!" Ethan muttered to himself as passengers began gathering their belongings. His heart hammered in his chest, though whether from excitement or nerves, he couldn't quite tell. He'd heard stories about the Philippines his whole life—his mom's nostalgic tales of friendly neighbors, his dad's descriptions of fresh mangoes that tasted like sunshine. "People here are supposed to be nice, right? They don't just... bully new kids for no reason."
He hoped that was true. Back home, after he'd lost the nationals, the whispers had followed him everywhere. Former champion. Used to be good. What happened to him?
Ethan had chosen Mindanao specifically because of Manny Pacquiao. If the greatest Filipino boxer of all time had started there, maybe Ethan could find something in that same soil—a way to rebuild himself. His Lola had been thrilled when he'd called to say he was coming to stay with her in Cagayan de Oro. "CDO," she'd called it, like everyone who lived there did.
The taxi ride from the airport gave Ethan his first real look at the city. Palm trees lined the streets, jeepneys painted in wild colors honked their way through traffic, and the humid air carried the smell of grilled meat from roadside vendors. It was nothing like the neat suburban streets he'd grown up on.
"First time in Mindanao?" the driver asked in accented English, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.
"First time in the Philippines, actually," Ethan admitted.
The driver whistled. "You picked an interesting time to come. Schools just started their term."
His Lola's house was smaller than he'd expected but felt warm the moment he stepped inside. She wrapped him in a hug that smelled like sampaguita flowers and cooking oil, pinching his cheeks despite his protests.
"Ang tangkad mo na!" she exclaimed, switching between Bisaya and English. "So tall now! But too skinny. We need to feed you."
Over dinner—lechon, rice, and about six other dishes he couldn't name—his Lola explained how the school system in CDO worked now. Apparently, some educational reform had reorganized everything into five clusters: North, South, East, West, and Central.
"You'll go to West Cluster," she said, spooning more rice onto his plate despite his protests. "It's closer. Good school."
That night, Ethan couldn't sleep. Jet lag kept him wired, and his mind kept circling back to boxing. He'd brought his hand wraps, his mouthguard, everything. Old habits. He stood in front of the mirror practicing his stance until his Lola yelled at him to go to bed.
The next morning, his Lola introduced him to Guilbert, a neighbor's kid who'd be showing him around. Guilbert was tall and lanky, with an easy smile that didn't quite reach his eyes—the look of someone who'd learned to be careful.
"So you're the American," Guilbert said as they walked toward the school. It wasn't quite a question.
"Filipino-American," Ethan corrected. "My parents are both from here originally."
"Right." Guilbert kicked a stone down the sidewalk. "Look, I should probably warn you about some stuff. The cluster system isn't just about location—it's about territory. Each cluster has its own... hierarchy."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Hierarchy?"
"Fighters. Ranks." Guilbert glanced at him sideways. "You box, right? Your Lola mentioned it."
"Used to," Ethan said, a little too quickly. "I mean, yeah. I box."
Guilbert nodded slowly. "Then you need to know about Central Cluster. That's where the real monsters are. They merged Central and MisOr campuses a few years back, and now it's basically a breeding ground for the strongest students in the city."
Despite himself, Ethan felt a spark of interest. "Strongest how?"
"Cruz—he's a boxer, ranked third in Central. Then there's Peter, ranked second. He does Arnis, that's our traditional martial art. Sticks, blades, empty hand. Brutal stuff." Guilbert's voice dropped lower. "But the scariest one is Mill. Rank one. MMA fighter. They say he's put people in the hospital."
"They rank fighters?" Ethan couldn't hide his disbelief. "Like, officially?"
"It's not official-official, but everyone knows. Ten to one in each cluster, with one being the strongest. Central's top three are legendary." Guilbert paused at a corner, pointing down a side street. "But we're going to West Cluster. Used to be called Lineo before the merge."
"And West has rankings too?"
"Sort of. It's... complicated." Guilbert scratched the back of his neck. "West has twelve strong fighters, but their exact rankings are a mystery. Nobody really knows who's number one. There's Sid—another MMA guy. Shawn who's insane with swords, though where he learned that, nobody knows. Red does Taekwondo. Then there's Ali and Kyle, both boxers."
Ethan perked up at that. "Boxers?"
"Yeah, but don't get excited. They're not like, friendly sparring partners or anything. Then there's Laurence—nobody even knows what his fighting style is. Jones, they call him 'The Magnet' because girls just flock to him, but apparently he can fight too. And Jeth and John, also unknown styles." Guilbert ticked them off on his fingers like he was reciting a shopping list of people to avoid.
"That's only nine," Ethan pointed out.
"There are three more, but their identities are completely secret. Some people think they're not even students." Guilbert shrugged. "Point is, West might not be Central, but it's no joke either."
They turned a corner and the school came into view—a sprawling complex of buildings behind a concrete fence. Students in uniform streamed through the gates, and Ethan felt that familiar pre-fight flutter in his stomach.
"You better not mess with any of them," Guilbert said, his tone shifting to something more serious. "They don't care if you're a transfer student or if you're new to the country. Step wrong, and they'll put you down. Some of these guys would kill you just to move up a rank."
Ethan laughed, but it came out sounding more nervous than he intended. "Dude, you think I'm scared? I learned boxing so I could fight. I competed at nationals back in the States. And honestly, I bet I could take their Taekwondo guy. That Red person or whatever. Taekwondo's all flashy kicks and no real power. It's weak compared to boxing."
The words tumbled out before he could stop them—that same cockiness that used to fuel him in the ring, before his loss. Before everything fell apart.
Guilbert stopped walking. He turned to face Ethan fully, his expression unreadable. Then he looked him up and down slowly, deliberately, like he was assessing a potential opponent.
"LOL," Guilbert said flatly, though nothing about his face suggested he found anything funny. "You really believe that?"
"I mean..." Ethan shifted his backpack. "Yeah?"
A few students passing by glanced at them curiously. Guilbert waited until they were out of earshot, then stepped closer. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"Well then, why don't you ask for a fight?"
The suggestion hung in the humid morning air between them. Somewhere in the distance, a school bell rang. Ethan's pulse quickened—that old familiar feeling, the mix of fear and excitement that came right before stepping into the ring.
"You're serious," Ethan said.
"You're the one who said Taekwondo is weak." Guilbert's smile was thin. "Red usually hangs out by the covered court after lunch. I could introduce you. Let you back up all that American confidence."
Ethan opened his mouth to respond, then closed it. Was this a test? A setup? Or was this kid just calling his bluff? Back home, he would've jumped at the chance to prove himself. But that was before—before he'd learned that confidence without skill was just noise.
Still, something in him burned at the challenge. Maybe that was what he'd come here for. Not to hide from his failure, but to face it head-on in a place where nobody knew he'd ever lost.
"Fine," Ethan heard himself say. "Set it up."
Guilbert's eyebrows rose slightly. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Ethan adjusted his backpack straps, trying to look more certain than he felt. "But just a friendly match, right? I'm not trying to get killed on my first day."
"Sure," Guilbert said, but his smile suggested he knew something Ethan didn't. "Friendly."
They walked through the school gates together, and Ethan couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just made either the best or worst decision of his life. Around them, students laughed and shouted to friends, completely unaware that the new kid from America had just agreed to challenge one of the West Cluster's ranked fighters.
His Lola was going to kill him.
But first, he had to survive whatever he'd just gotten himself into.