On July 31st at 9:52 AM, the late morning sun beat down on the metal roof of the jeepney as it rumbled along the Manila East Road (R-5) from Taytay to Morong. Inside, Jiro Sanata sat quietly, clutching a brown envelope against his chest as if it were a shield. Inside that envelope lay his future—the requirements for his first college course, a Bachelor of Industrial Technology major in Construction Technology at Kenkai State University's Morong Campus.
It was a warm, pleasant day, the kind where the heat hums in the air. Despite the mild traffic, Jiro didn't mind the pace. He watched the province roll by, the wind tussling his hair, letting the rhythmic vibration of the engine settle his nerves.
When the jeepney finally ground to a halt in the town center of Morong, Jiro called out the driver to stop. Jiro stepped out, his feet hitting the pavement right in front of the public hospital. He paused for a fleeting moment, looking at the building. It was a strange poetic symmetry; he had been born in that hospital during a typhoon, and now, he stood before it again, about to start a new chapter of his life just down the road.
He navigated the crossing, dodging the flow of tricycles, jeepneys, and cars, and walked past the barangay hall nestled beside the sprawling National High School campus. The walk to the university was short—a mere five-minute stretch—but to Jiro, every step felt heavy with anticipation.
Finally, the campus gate loomed ahead. As he approached, a campus guard was sitting next to the gate, blocking his path with practiced authority.
"Purpose of visit?" the campus guard asked, his eyes scanning Jiro.
"I'm here to go to the registrar," Jiro answered, straightening his posture. "I need to enroll."
The campus guard nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Go ahead. Just sign in the logbook first."
Jiro scribbled his name, the pen scratching against the paper, cementing his presence there. The campus was vast, a maze of concrete and greenery. He navigated the grounds, his eyes searching until he found the Registrar's Office, situated directly in front of the Industrial Technology buildings—the very place he hoped to spend the next few years.
He sat in the waiting area, while the air conditioning inside the office offered relief from the July heat for registrar staff and not for Jiro. He scanned the area, noting some late students clutching similar envelopes. They were all here for the same reason: The Promise of Free Tuition.
Kenkai State University is the most popular higher education institution in the province because it is government-funded. The "UniFAST" voucher system meant that for families like Jiro's, a college degree was finally a possibility without the crushing weight of tuition fees. But as Jiro sweated in the humid hallway, he realized that "Free" came with a different kind of cost: Time. These few remaining applicants were chasing the deadline not just for a grade, but for financial survival.
When he finally reached the counter, the registrar looked up from a stack of papers, eyeing Jiro with mild skepticism.
"You're here to enroll?" the registrar asked, glancing at the clock and the calendar. "You're cutting it a bit close. It's quite late in the period."
Jiro felt a spike of anxiety but held his ground. "But the university online portal mentioned that enrollment is open until today, July 31st."
The registrar sighed, conceding the point with a nod. "That is true." He paused, looking at the folder in Jiro's hands. "However, have you verified your medical documents at the clinic yet?"
Jiro blinked. "I... no, I haven't done that yet."
"You can't enroll without clearance," the registrar said, pointing toward the door. "Go verify your medical documents first. Then come back."
Jiro nodded, gripping his envelope tighter. It wasn't going to be as simple as he thought, but he was already here. The first step was taken; he just had to keep walking.
With his instructions clear, Jiro headed toward the university clinic. The air inside was heavy with the scent of antiseptic and cold. Before he could speak to anyone, a nurse gestured toward a logbook on the counter.
Jiro complied, scribbling his name again. The room was fair-sized, certainly not small, but it felt crowded with presence. There were about four or five staff members inside. One guy was stationed near the door, his eyes glued to a desktop monitor, ignoring the room. The other four were clustered together, chatting and laughing, the atmosphere more like a breakroom than a clinic.
One of the staff members signaled for Jiro to sit down for the interview.
"Name?" she asked. Her voice was incredibly soft, barely audible over the chatter of her colleagues.
"Sorry?" Jiro leaned in, struggling to catch the words.
"Name," she repeated, slightly louder but still faint.
Jiro gave his details. He hesitated as she asked for his family history and his health conditions. There was no privacy here. He kept his answers short, conscious of the lack of confidentiality.
The staff glanced at the wall clock; it was 11:25 AM. "Have you eaten yet?" she asked, looking up with a motherly concern. "It's almost break time. You don't want to faint during the check-up."
"I'll eat after. I'm fine," Jiro assured her.
After the interview, the staff member reminded Jiro to wait for the doctor. "Stay here and wait for the doctor to review your medical results."
"Thank you," Jiro said.
He sat and waited. The staff continued their conversation, unaware or unbothered by Jiro watching them. They had just received their lunch packs provided by the campus.
"Hahaha, my stomach hurts," one of the female staff members laughed, clutching her abdomen. "I feel like I'm getting diarrhea from that dish earlier."
The others laughed with her, joking about the food quality. Jiro just stared at the floor.
"Even the staff get sick from the campus food", he noted silently.
It was a small, unsettling detail about the institution's standards.
Moments later, the doctor arrived, carrying an air of hurried professionalism that cut through the staff's chatter. She called Jiro over and wrapped the cuff around his arm to check his blood pressure.
Riiiip. The velcro tearing sound echoed in the clinic room.
Satisfied with the reading, the doctor reviewed the brown envelope's contents—the blood type test and the X-ray results of his lungs.
"Everything looks clear," the doctor announced, signing a small slip of paper. "Here is your medical clearance. Proceed to Dental next."
Jiro took the slip, thanked her, and navigated his way to the adjacent building where the dental clinic was housed.
As he pushed the door open, a blast of cold air conditioning greeted him—a stark contrast to the humidity outside. He walked to the desk and signed the logbook. There was another student currently in the chair, mouth agape while a dentist peered inside, so Jiro took a seat in the waiting area. He let himself relax for a moment, enjoying the artificial chill of the room. And when one student finished the check-up, the dentist looked up again in the logbook.
"Sanata?" the dentist called out eventually.
Jiro stood up and handed over his medical clearance slip. He sat in the chair, feeling the leather stick slightly to his clothes. The check-up was swift; the dentist examined his teeth, hummed in approval, and signed the final portion of his clearance.
"You're all set," the dentist said.
Jiro let out a breath of relief. The quest for signatures was over.
He walked back to the Registrar's Office counter, his step lighter this time. The heat of the afternoon hit him the moment he stepped outside. The same registrar was there, though the line had thinned. When Jiro reached the counter, he proudly presented the completed medical clearance along with his other requirements.
"Course?" the registrar asked, typing away at a computer.
"Bachelor of Industrial Technology, Major in Construction Technology," Jiro recited.
The registrar nodded, accepting the papers. The sound of a stamp hitting paper finalized the transaction. Thud.
"Alright. I've processed your enrollment. Just wait for an email sent to your Gmail account. It will contain the login details for your student portal."
Jiro thanked him and walked out of the registrar's office counter. He didn't have the confirmation yet, but he had done his part.
At 12:20 PM, he headed for the gate and walked down again in front of the hospital beside the main road to catch a jeepney back to Taytay. The heat of the afternoon sun pressed down on him.
He boarded a jeepney that was passing through the rice fields of Morong. The moment he sat down, Jiro didn't look at the scenery. He immediately reached into his bag and pulled out his small red earphone pouch.
He unraveled the wires, plugged them in, and scrolled through his phone. He needed to block out the noise of the engine and the heat. He pressed play on Paramore's Riot! album. The aggressive, high-energy rock filled his ears, creating a barrier between him and the world.
As the jeepney crossed the boundary from Morong to Cardona, and to the lower towns, the scenery shifted. The trees, mountain backgrounds, and open rice field spaces were replaced by the gray, industrial, and commercial sprawl of Binangonan, Angono, and finally, Taytay. The air grew thicker with exhaust. The noise of jeepneys, tricycles, and motorcycles fighting for space on the narrow road grew louder, but Jiro couldn't hear it. He only heard Hayley Williams screaming in his ears.
He felt the atmosphere change from "Academic Hope" to "Suburban Survival." He was going back to the noise.
Around 1:40 PM, he arrived in Taytay. He got off near the New Public Market.
The heat was at its peak. Jiro opened his umbrella, shielding himself as he approached the footbridge. It was a tall, imposing structure with no roof, completely exposed to the blinding sun. He climbed the steps, the music still blasting, walking above the chaotic traffic of the market district.
When he descended, he didn't hail a tricycle or wait for another jeep. He decided to walk the remaining 730 meters to his house along the adjacent main road. It was a long walk in the afternoon heat, but Jiro kept his pace steady, his umbrella up, and his earphones in.
He walked past the noise, past the traffic, past the heat, protected by his playlist. He didn't stop until he reached his gate.
Later that night, Jiro sat on the edge of his bed in his shared room. The house was quiet, save for the occasional bark of the dogs in the kitchen and the low hum of the electric fan battling the humidity. It was a busy bedroom—shared space, shared air—so he kept his movements small.
He refreshed his inbox for the hundredth time.
9:18 PM. Ping.
Finally, an email from the Kenkai State University Registrar.
He opened it, his eyes scanning the digital receipt. Student Number: KSU M2024-06519.
A sense of reality washed over him. He was officially a college student for the school year 2024–2025. Quickly, he logged into the student portal to view his schedule and his Certificate of Registration (COR). He downloaded the soft copy, zooming in to check the details.
He zoomed in on the course title. Bachelor of Industrial Technology Major in Contruction Technology, Section 3.
Jiro paused. The blue light of the phone illuminated a frown that slowly curled into a tired smile.
"Nine hours," he whispered to the busy bedroom. "They made me wait nine hours to tell me I'm majoring in 'Contruction'."
A chuckle escaped his lips. He tried to see if there was an edit button, but the document was final. The system had spoken. He was majoring in Contruction.
There was no 's'. Just like there was no turning back.
He considered emailing them to fix it. But that would mean going back to the Registrar. That would mean paying another fare, waiting in another line, and explaining a typo to an overworked staff member.
"Is the letter 's' worth 100 pesos and three hours of my life?"
But he already knew that today is the last day of enrollment in the campus. He later accepted that small typo.
"Close enough," he muttered. He lay back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling.
He decided to ignore it. It was a small imperfection in an otherwise successful day. With his enrollment secured and his typo-ridden COR saved on his phone, he went back to the busy business preparing.
The relief was short-lived. The countdown had begun.
Over the next four days, the reality of his new logistical life set in. Jiro shifted from celebration to calculation. He spent his time organizing his backpack—the heavy, dark blue-green bag that would become his constant companion. He carefully placed his scientific calculator, his seven pencils and three newly-bought black ballpoint pens, and the newly printed copy of his COR and Schedule in his hard blue plastic clipboard, ensuring they were crisp, tidy, and ready for inspection at the gate.
He studied the route on his phone.
Target: KSU Morong Campus. Distance: 21+ kilometers. Estimated Travel Time: 1 hour and 30 minutes (with traffic). Class Start: 10:00 AM on August 5th, the first day of school.
"If the class starts at 10:00," Jiro murmured, analyzing the traffic patterns of the Rizal province, "I need to be on the jeepney by 7:30 AM. Allowance for the jeepney filling up... allowance for the walk..."
He was preparing for a long-haul war. He was ready to conquer the distance. He was ready to be a KSU Morong Student.
He had no idea that in less than a week, all his calculations would be rendered useless. The distance, the schedule, the preparation—none of it would matter. Fate was already rewriting his itinerary, preparing to send him right back to a decaying building just a few kilometers from his house.
He closed his bag. The first step was done. He didn't know it was a step in the wrong direction.
END OF THE FIRST STEP