Manila evenings had their own kind of music.
Horn symphonies. Vendors shouting over each other.
Neon bouncing off puddles like spilled starlight.
Practice had ended hours ago, but Thea wasn't done.
"Team bonding," she'd declared. "Mandatory."
Which was how six half-exhausted players ended up outside a karaoke bar that looked like it had survived three typhoons and a heartbreak.
Riki stared up at the flickering sign — SingZone Family KTV.
"Family KTV? You sure this is regulation, Manager?"
Thea adjusted her glasses. "It's budget-friendly."
Bong grinned. "Translation: cheap."
Scene: Inside SingZone
The room was small but loud — sticky floors, glowing LED mic stands, and a machine with a songbook thicker than a Bible.
Kio slumped on one couch, towel around his neck. Jax flipped through the song list like it was a game plan. Drei was already halfway through a bottle of water, calm as always.
"You first, Manager," Riki said. "You dragged us here."
"Me? I don't sing."
Bong pressed play anyway.
The opening bars of Tala filled the room.
Thea froze. Riki nearly choked on his soda.
But she sang — awkwardly at first, then louder, until even Drei clapped along.
When it ended, Thea dropped the mic like a soldier returning from war. "There. Team bonding complete."
"Not even close," Riki said, grabbing the mic. "Your turn to hear a masterpiece."
He punched in Hinahanap-Hanap Kita, and went full bridge idol — eyes closed, mic twirling, pretending there was a spotlight on him.
Bong provided backup dancing that legally qualified as a disturbance of peace.
When it ended, everyone was laughing too hard to clap.
Then Riki shoved the mic into Teo's hands. "Big man. Your turn."
"I don't—"
"Everyone sings here," Riki said. "Even skyscrapers."
The screen flashed: Ordinary Song – Marc Velasco.
Teo's voice was deep, rough, careful — like someone who didn't sing often but meant it.
The room quieted. Thea's eyes softened.
When he finished, Bong exhaled dramatically. "Bro, that's illegal levels of emotion."
"Alright," Riki said, scrolling the songbook. "Now for the real performance."
The screen glowed blue. Noypi – Bamboo.
"Oh no," Thea muttered. "We're about to get banned."
"Exactly," Riki grinned. "Let's go."
Scene: Flowstate's Anthem
The opening guitar hit — raw, electric.
Riki screamed the first verse like a battle cry.
"Hoy, Pinoy ako!"
Drei clapped in rhythm, Kio banged a spoon like a drum, Bong threw in wild harmonies.
Teo's deep voice thundered through the chorus.
It wasn't pretty — it was electric.
"Tayo'y Pilipino! Kahit anong kulay ng balat, isa sa puso!"
The room shook.
Other tables peeked in, cheering, joining the chorus. Even the waiters sang the last line.
When the final chord hit, everyone was breathless and laughing.
Thea leaned against the wall, smiling. "Okay. Maybe this bonding idea wasn't terrible."
Riki bowed dramatically. "Flowstate — live debut."
But before anyone could celebrate—
A slow clap echoed from the doorway.
Marco "Wave" Herrera leaned against the frame, grin too confident. Tank and Flash stood behind him, both still in varsity jackets.
"Nice warm-up, bridge boys," Wave said. "Mind if we show you how professionals do it?"
Riki smirked. "Be my guest."
Scene: Iron Tide Retaliation
Wave grabbed the mic, scrolling fast.
"Lakas Tama – Siakol," he said.
The first chords hit — and instantly, the whole room shifted.
Rugged. Flirty. Dangerous.
Wave sang like he owned the air — winking, pointing, dragging his words just right.
Tank pounded the table in rhythm. Flash threw in background harmonies like backup vocals at a bar gig.
"'Pag nakikita kita, ako'y nasisiraan na!"
Even Flowstate couldn't help but laugh.
Bong leaned to Riki. "Bro… he's flirting with the room."
Riki shrugged. "And the room's flirting back."
Wave hit the last note perfectly, bowing low.
"That's how Iron Tide rolls," he said, voice smug.
Then came the chaos.
The crowd started chanting for both teams.
Flowstate shouted lyrics back at them.
Wave fired another verse just to outdo them.
Until —
"ENOUGH!"
The KTV owner stormed in, waving a broken mic cord. "You're turning this into It's Showtime! OUT! ALL OF YOU!"
Both teams blinked.
Wave laughed, tossing the mic. "Guess we win by eviction."
Riki grinned. "Guess you hit the wrong note."
Scene: Outside SingZone
They spilled into the humid night, laughter still echoing behind them.
Thea sighed, rubbing her temples. "You just got us banned from the only KTV under ₱500 an hour."
Bong shrugged. "That's bonding on a budget."
Wave walked past, grin lazy. "See you at the Governor's Cup, bridge boys."
Riki called after him. "Bring earplugs."
Thea sighed again. "Next team bonding, we're playing chess."
"As long as we can sing the moves," Riki said.
Everyone groaned, laughing as they walked under the flickering neon.
Reflected in the puddles below, the word glowed faintly —
Flowstate.
A name not yet famous — but has already formed.
End of Chapter 9