(Araneta Coliseum — 8:11 PM)
The lights dimmed to a low hum.
The floor gleamed like water under the spotlights.
The whole arena waited — breathless, unified.
The Governor's Cup II Finals.
Flowstate State University vs. Imperium Reborn.
Rhythm vs. Perfection.
Freedom vs. Control.
Starting Five
FLOWSTATE STATE UNIVERSITY
PG — Riki Dela Peña (5'7): Rhythm master, conductor of chaos
SG — Renz "Air" Alonzo (6'2): Explosive scorer, aerial instinct
SF — Drei Reyes (6'3): Perimeter tactician, calm anchor
PF — Bornok Rivera (6'4): Mudwall screener, heart of the paint
C — Mateo "Teo" Alvarado (7'1): Silent tower, balance incarnate
Bench rotation: Lars, Kio, Bong, Niko, Mario.
Coach Alvarez. Manager Thea.
IMPERIUM REBORN
PG — Diether "Pinoy D-Rose" Alcaraz (6'1): Rose Step crossover, calculated drive
SG — Rafael "Raf" Alcantara (6'0): Perfect Step jumper, surgical motion
SF — Theo Ramos (6'2): Mirror Drive, reactive offense
PF — Liam Cortez (6'3): Silent Crash, rebound and reset
C — Koji Tanaka (7'3): Zen Wall, unbreakable defense
Tip-off.
Teo and Koji at center circle.
Two towers — one motionless, one breathing slow.
The whistle blew.
Ball up.
Koji got the tip, flicking it perfectly back to Diether.
Two steps, midair twist, Rose Step layup.
Imperium 2 – Flowstate 0.
Riki jogged it up. No rush.
Drei set the flare screen, Renz came off. Jumper — rimmed out.
Koji rebound, Liam outlet.
Imperium ran the same play again.
4–0.
Precision. Repetition. Control.
By the end of the first quarter, Imperium led 26–18.
Flowstate couldn't find rhythm — their tempo jammed by clockwork.
During timeout, Coach Alvarez looked at Teo.
"You hear it?"
Teo shook his head.
"Not yet."
Thea leaned forward. "He's waiting for it. He always does."
Second Quarter — The Pause Before the Storm.
Imperium's machine tightened.
Every Flowstate pass was met with pressure.
Every cut smothered.
Koji blocked Teo twice, effortless as breathing.
Then Renz got fouled on a breakaway.
Two free throws. Silence.
Riki clapped once — slow.
Twice — slower.
The whole bench picked up the beat.
Bornok's laugh echoed.
And suddenly, it was like the dome had found a pulse again.
Renz sank both.
26–20.
Next play, Riki slipped through the lane and floated it high — Teo caught it mid-air, no roar, just control.
Soft dunk.
26–22.
The rhythm was returning.
Third Quarter — The Shift.
Riki and Lars alternated point duties.
Tempo snapped.
Bornok's screens cracked like thunderclaps.
Drei's passes cut air like knives.
Then it happened —
Renz missed a drive, ball popped loose, and Teo snatched it with one hand.
He didn't bring it down.
He pivoted midair and threw it back in one motion.
The rim rattled.
Crowd erupted.
Renz shouted, "That's you, bro!"
Teo didn't smile. Just exhaled.
Next play, Diether drove — Koji rolled.
Teo met him midair.
Blocked.
Koji landed, stunned.
The building shook.
"TITAN!"
It started from the student section — one voice, then hundreds.
"TITAN! TITAN! TITAN!"
The nickname spread like fire.
Thea scribbled it unconsciously on her clipboard.
Teo Alvarado — The Titan of Flowstate.
Fourth Quarter — The Last Play.
The score swung like a pendulum.
Imperium pressed, Flowstate adjusted.
Each possession bled seconds, each move surgical.
Final minute. 87–87.
Timeout.
Coach Alvarez didn't speak at first.
He looked at Teo. "Two weeks of drills. Mud. Weight. Silence. You remember?"
Teo nodded slowly.
Riki placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Let's finish this the way we started — quiet."
Back on the floor.
Ten seconds left.
Flowstate ball.
Riki dribbled top of the key.
Koji shadowed Teo.
Five seconds.
Renz cut baseline.
Bornok screened.
Riki lobbed it — high, perfect arc.
Teo jumped.
Koji with him.
For one frozen breath, both giants hung in the same space.
Teo closed his eyes.
He saw his father, frail but smiling, hands clasped together like prayer.
"Basketball isn't about reaching higher, son.
It's about holding your ground."
Teo opened his eyes.
Palms spread.
Slammed the ball through Koji's reach.
Buzzer.
Confetti exploded.
Flowstate 89 – Imperium 87.
Koji sat up, breathing hard, a rare grin tugging at his face.
"You found it," he said.
Teo offered his hand. "Thanks for helping me look."
Renz lifted both arms, Bornok yelled toward the stands, Lars sprinted straight to the camera and screamed,
"WE BACK!"
Thea covered her face, laughing through tears.
Coach Alvarez whispered, "He finally heard it."
Teo stood at center court — sweat glistening, eyes fixed on the rim.
He didn't move.
Didn't smile.
Just stood there, hands open, palms up — like he was catching something only he could see.
The lights dimmed to a low hum.
Every camera flash bounced off his stillness.
The crowd noise became waves.
But Teo didn't celebrate.
He stayed behind after the lights went out —
still standing at center court, palms open,
staring at the rim like it had asked him a question he couldn't answer.
Epilogue Teaser:
He would be called The Titan in every paper, every highlight reel.
But to those who knew him —
he was the quiet center that made everything move.
End of Chapter 9 — "The Last Play"