(Dockyard Drifters vs Hunger)
Under the Bridge — Post-Game
The crowd was thinning, but the noise still bounced off concrete.
Thea Cruz sat at a folding table under the floodlight, marking down team names while Riki pretended to help.
That's when Renz, Bornok, and Mario walked up — still sweat-damp, still new.
Thea looked up briefly, scanning them.
"You three registering or just standing around looking photogenic?"
Renz: "We're in. Dockyard Drifters."
Bornok frowned. "We still using that name?"
Mario: "It's that or 'Team Fishball'."
Bornok: "Dockyard Drifters it is."
Thea wrote the name neatly. "Alright, Drifters. Team #9. First match tomorrow night, second bracket."
Renz leaned in. "Second bracket?"
Thea turned the clipboard around — the bracket scrawled in her sharp handwriting.
The Bracket — Explained by Thea
She tapped the paper with her pen.
"Concrete Beats has twelve teams, single elimination. We start with four play-in matches tonight — winners fill the main bracket of eight."
Riki chimed in like a bad commentator. "Translation: Lose once, go home crying."
Thea ignored him.
"Each game is race to eleven. Winners move on to quarterfinals tomorrow night. Semi-finals and finals will be streamed Sunday."
Bornok leaned closer. "And the 15,000?"
Thea: "Winner takes all. But if you're smart, you'll stay past payday. Scouts come to watch the finals — college teams, even city leagues. Some people leave with contracts instead of cash."
Renz's eyes flicked up at that. "So it's not just for fun."
Thea smiled faintly. "Nothing under this bridge ever is."
She flipped the clipboard back, jotting something.
"Your slot's tomorrow, 7:00 PM. Opponents — Team East Drive. They're fast, small, shoot heavy. Don't let them set rhythm or you'll drown before the second possession."
Bornok raised an eyebrow. "You study all the teams?"
Thea: "I don't like guessing."
Riki: "She's Flowstate's eyes. See's the whole game before it happens."
Thea: "And still can't get Riki to stop dribbling into double teams."
Riki: "It's called style."
Bong: "It's called trauma."
Thea finally stood, sliding the clipboard under her arm.
"Alright. Registration closed. If you're still hungry, Ate Bebang's is open."
Mario's eyes lit up. "Fishballs and rice, baby. We're home."
Bornok: "As long as it's not fish again."
Renz: "Let's move before I start dunking on air."
Cut To: Ate Bebang's Eatery — A Few Blocks Away
The air smelled like garlic, oil, and the kind of comfort you can only cook with sweat.
Plastic tables, pink walls, handwritten signs: "No credit unless you're cute."
Ate Bebang waved from behind the counter. "Hoy! Flowstate's pets! Sit-sit-sit! The manager texted. Said three new boys coming."
The Drifters slid into a booth.
Bornok's chair creaked like a dying jeep.
Mario was already pointing at the menu. "Sisig, tapsilog, and a Coke each."
Renz leaned back, scanning the photos on the wall — framed snapshots of old Flowstate nights, trophies, laughter, chaos.
Thea walked in a few minutes later, still holding her clipboard.
"Riki sent me to collect his debt list," she said, sitting across from them.
Mario: "You work 24/7?"
Thea: "If I don't, the tournament collapses into a karaoke night."
She flipped her clipboard open again.
"So, Dockyard Drifters. First time playing Manila ball?"
Bornok: "First time paying this much to sweat."
Thea laughed softly. "Then welcome. You'll fit right in."
Renz couldn't stop glancing at her — not the obvious kind, more like he was studying her rhythm.
She noticed. "You've been staring since the bracket."
Renz smiled. "Just trying to read the court."
Thea: "Then read faster."
Thea's tone didn't change — calm, dry, surgical.
But even Mario felt it.
He whispered, "He's cooked."
Bornok: "He's marinated."
Ate Bebang dropped their plates — steam rising, garlic rice glowing under the fluorescent light.
She winked. "Eat now, argue later. Court's still warm."
They did.
For a few minutes, there was no rivalry, no bracket, no noise — just food, laughter, and the steady hum of a city that never stopped watching.
Later — Outside
Thea headed back toward the bridge, clipboard in hand.
Renz leaned against the truck, watching her silhouette fade into light.
Bornok finished his soda and said, "You look like you just lost again."
Renz grinned. "Maybe I did."
Mario slurped his straw. "Manila's beating you in straight sets, bro."
Renz just stared at the glow under the bridge.
"I don't mind. I came here for rhythm — guess I found it."
End of Chapter 4 (Part 1) — "Concrete Beats: Registration."
(Next: Chapter 4, Part 2 — Opening Round: Flowstate vs. East Drive.)