(Manila — Late Afternoon, One Week Later)
The gym smelled like detergent that lost its fight with sweat.
A whistle cut through the air, sharp and tired.
Mika Yamaguchi Alvarado straightened the stack of practice schedules on her clipboard and tried to look like she knew what she was doing.
She didn't.
Across the court, sneakers screeched, balls thudded, voices tangled.
She had spent the last seven days pretending to be "Manager Mika," the newest member of the State U Titans—
a position she earned by accident and maintained through denial.
She glanced at her notes:
Step 1 — Stay organized.
Step 2 — Smile.
Step 3 — ???
Step 3 was under construction.
"Manager-chan, water refill!" someone yelled.
She pretended not to hear.
The request came again, louder.
"Manager-chan—helloooo—"
She turned slowly. "You have two legs, Ramos."
Tommy Ramos grinned, unbothered, towel hanging around his neck like a medal.
"Those legs are busy winning," he said.
"You missed seven shots in a row."
"Statistically speaking," he replied, "I'm due for redemption."
She exhaled through her nose and scribbled something on her clipboard.
He leaned closer. "What's that?"
"Tracking your delusions."
He laughed, the sound big enough to bounce off the rafters.
For reasons unknown to science, Mika felt her ears heat.
She adjusted her glasses and faced the other way.
Possible arrhythmia. Investigate later.
The Water Crisis
Coach Yssa's voice thundered. "Manager! Drinks!"
Mika opened the cooler.
Empty.
Of course.
Luis Ferrer pointed at Tom. "He shared with the rookies!"
"Team spirit," Tom said, defensive and proud.
"Idiocy," Coach replied.
Twelve heads turned to Mika.
She sighed, picked up her tote bag, and left the gym before anyone could volunteer her again.
Campus Store — 4:37 PM
The convenience store buzzed with the low hum of cool air.
Mika dumped twelve isotonic bottles on the counter.
The cashier raised a brow. "Team order?"
She nodded.
"Basketball?"
"Regrettably."
She paid, gathered the bottles into her arms, and stepped out.
Heat slammed into her first, then drizzle.
Manila weather was indecisive that way.
Across the street, under a crooked umbrella, stood Tom Ramos.
He waved the umbrella like a flag.
"You walk fast."
"You followed me."
"Coach said if you faint, I'm responsible."
"That's correct."
He crossed to her, tilted the umbrella toward her side.
"Half-shade partnership," he said.
"Fifty-fifty."
"Sixty-forty," she corrected. "You're taller."
He grinned. "Fine. Sixty-forty."
Rain ticked against plastic and asphalt.
Jeepneys hissed by. The air smelled of fried garlic and gasoline.
Mika realized that the umbrella was small, and that Tom's shoulder was brushing hers.
Her heartbeat adjusted itself into double time.
Back at the Gym
The team cheered when she returned with the bottles.
Noel, the rookie, ran to help her.
"I can carry those, Manager!"
"Too late," she said. "Already carried."
He smiled, cheeks pink.
Luis elbowed Tom. "Rookie's got a crush."
Tom flicked his towel at him. "Shut up."
Coach blew her whistle. "Less gossip, more drills!"
Mika stacked towels, arranged bottles, tried not to notice how Tom laughed louder than usual.
Evening Cleanup
Practice ended in a puddle of noise.
The boys left one by one until only Mika remained, wiping marker stains from the whiteboard.
Takuro Reyes, the captain, lingered, stretching quietly.
"You don't have to stay this late," he said.
"I know."
"Then why?"
"Because no one else will clean this properly."
He smiled faintly. "That's leadership."
"It's neurosis."
"Same thing sometimes."
They cleaned in companionable silence until the echo of the ball machines stopped.
Dinner — Harbor Noodles Manila
The shop smelled like chili oil and memory.
Kenta sat at the counter scrolling his holo-feed.
Mika slid onto the stool beside him, still damp from the walk home.
"You look like you survived basic training," he said.
"I gave twelve athletes mild soap poisoning yesterday."
He blinked. "Improvement."
Kaiya peeked from the kitchen. "Did you say soap?"
"Never mind," Mika said quickly.
Teo laughed from the sink. "Every great manager starts with a disaster."
Kenta grinned. "You planning to fall for any of these disasters?"
Mika glared. "No."
"So that's a yes with latency."
She threw him a napkin. He caught it with ease.
Night — Room 2B
The city hummed through her window.
She opened her notebook and started a new page.
Manager Rule #1: Pretend you know what you're doing.
Rule #2: When pretending fails, carry heavy things.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from Tom.
[thanks for today. next time, I'll carry the bottles. promise.]
She stared at it, thumb hovering.
Typed ok.
Deleted it.
Typed sure.
Deleted again.
Finally sent: "Probability says you won't."
The reply came fast.
[then let's test the hypothesis.]
She caught herself smiling — small, unplanned.
Outside, rain softened against the glass, slow and steady, like a metronome.
Next Episode Preview (Card Appears on-Screen)
Episode 3 — "Beach Side Equation"
When umbrellas multiply and confessions hide under thunder.