August 17 (Saturday)
2:08 PM.
The doorway of Room 406 suddenly became a chokepoint of exhaustion.
Through the open doorway, a squad of heavily panting students stumbled inside. It was Group Delta—President Hidy, Gracie, Cicille, Hurd, Cristy, and Jachie. They looked like they had just survived a stamina-draining boss rush on the sweltering campus grounds.
They collapsed into their respective armchairs, breathless, fanning themselves aggressively.
Sitting right in front of Jiro, Hidy immediately pulled out her massive 32 oz insulated tumbler from the floor. She unscrewed the lid and drank water aggressively, gulping down the cold liquid like a survivor who had just crossed a desert.
Clack.
She twisted the cap back on tightly, letting out a long, refreshing exhale.
The Elite Faction has finally arrived, Jiro noted from his seat. Mission accomplished, but at what cost?
Despite the frantic arrival of the late groups, the final boss of the day was completely unbothered.
Out in the hallway, Mr. Casto was still busy on his phone. He remained casually leaning against the open corridor fence. He had one arm resting comfortably on top of the concrete railing, holding his cellphone right above the fence as he swiped and typed away, completely ignoring the chaotic influx of his students inside Room 406.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
The classroom waited in hushed, nervous silence.
At exactly 2:11 PM, the professor's side mission concluded. He finally lowered his device, slipped it into his pocket, and pushed himself off the corridor fence.
He stepped through the doorway and stood at the front of the class.
So... it begins.
Mr. Casto looked around the room, surveying the thirty-five students sitting before him. He cleared his throat.
"Alright, ah... class," he started, pointing a finger vaguely. "BEEd 1-A?"
"Yes po!" the entire cohort responded in unison.
He nodded, a chill, almost quirky smile forming on his lips.
"So, class. I am Mr. Edwardo Casto," he introduced himself smoothly. "Just simply call me Mr. Casto..."
He paused. His eyes scanned the rows of students, taking in their crisp, uneven shades of blue education uniforms. His smile dropped slightly into a look of genuine confusion.
"...so... why are you all wearing uniforms?"
A collective wave of goosebumps swept through BEEd 1-A. The atmosphere instantly dropped ten degrees.
Jiro's internal monologue went into overdrive.
Uhh... it is Orientation Week? We were strictly required to wear this! But wait... why is he asking us that? Why do we need it now??? We were literally just checking if these profs will ever come to the campus to teach us... and then... what? Is this a trick question?
Before the panic could fully set in, Mr. Casto waved his hand dismissively.
"Uhh, okay okay," Mr. Casto continued, pacing slightly. "By next week, you should be wearing pants or pajamas and a white shirt ah. You can also wear the official KSU PE uniform, just buy it at the office. But I am not requiring you to buy the PE uniform right away."
He stopped and looked at them with a reassuring nod. "If you don't have the money to buy it yet, that is totally okay. As long as you are wearing runner shoes, black pants, and a white shirt... we are good."
Jiro blinked.
Ohh, that is cool and very considerate... Jiro thought, his respect for the chill professor rising. Woah. But... wait.
The logistical reality suddenly hit him.
Ugh, that is a massive hassle! If we have to wear uniforms for Filipino and Art, and then change for PE... so every Saturday we have to bring an eco bag or a paper bag carrying those additional clothes? The hell... My heavy loadout just got heavier.
"And then," Mr. Casto's voice cut through Jiro's inventory management crisis. "Uh, I have my rules here. Basically... just comply with all the activities that we are going to do, okay?"
The class nodded tentatively.
"So that you can pass," he stated simply, locking eyes with the students. "That is the only requirement for me here in PE 1. I don't want any foolishness, I don't want this and that... I just don't want anyone messing around eh. The most important thing is you just comply and submit everything to me. That is all."
It was a fair, straightforward contract. No academic mind games. Just pure compliance.
Mr. Casto crossed his arms and let out a light, knowing laugh.
"I know what some of you are thinking. 'Sir, PE isn't a major subject ah.' Yah, I know." He smiled, his tone shifting into a friendly warning. "You can definitely focus more on your other major subjects... but do not ever neglect my subject."
It was a very brief... quirky... introduction. With the rules of the game clearly set, Mr. Casto shifted the dynamic to something more interactive.
"Alright, guys... class... uh, for now, let's set some expectations for this subject first," he announced, walking slowly across the front of the room. "So, who will be the first to tell us your expectations?"
Immediately, a hand shot up from the front row. It was Aprille.
"Oh, okay, miss," Mr. Casto pointed to her. "What is your name?"
"Aprille Bolente po," she answered brightly.
"Okay, uhh... what is your expectation?"
And then, Aprille dropped a verbal confetti bomb on the entire classroom.
"Ay umm... hopefully... I will lose weight now in this subject po hahaha!"
The whole class instantly erupted into loud, genuine laughter. The tension in the room completely shattered. Mr. Casto threw his head back and laughed right along with them, clearly amused by the raw honesty.
"Alright, lose weight... noted!" Mr. Casto chuckled, scanning the room again. "How about the others?"
Cristel raised her hand next, her headband perfectly positioned.
As usual, Mr. Casto followed his protocol. "Your name first, miss?"
"Cristel Basha po."
"Okay, go with the flow. What is yours?"
"For me po, umm… it's going to be purely dances and practice, and maybe some sports..." she stated clearly, radiating her usual competent Business Manager aura.
"Okay, dances... sports..." Mr. Casto nodded, taking mental notes. He looked out at the sea of blue uniforms one more time. "Others?"
Jiro felt the invisible spotlight shift toward him. It was the perfect moment to drop a calculated plot twist. He raised his hand.
Mr. Casto spotted him. "Okay, Mister? Name?"
"Jiro Sanata po."
"Okay, Mr. Sanata," Mr. Casto called out. "And your expectation?"
Jiro kept his face perfectly neutral and dropped his calculated intel.
"Uhh, for me, we will practice to play Arnis... martial arts."
Jiro's internal monologue ran a million kilometers an hour.
I know this seems too advanced for a generic PE 1 expectation... but I literally only heard this from my sister, Jaizel. She played Arnis before for her Nursing PE, and Mr. Casto was her exact instructor! This is a tactical meta-knowledge drop. Though... maybe that is for the second year? PE 3? Maybe... let's see how he reacts.
Mr. Casto paused. He looked at Jiro, eyebrows raised slightly, and then just shrugged with a wry, entertained smile.
"Uhh, okay, Arnis..." Mr. Casto chuckled, waving a hand. "But that is for the next-next semester ah, you are too advanced hahaha."
Jiro sank back into his armchair, a slow, satisfied smirk creeping onto his face.
Intel confirmed. The timeline is just slightly off. The game is on.
The setting of expectations continued, moving smoothly across the room as other classmates shared their hopes for the subject. But the discussion itself was surprisingly quick. Mr. Casto wasn't one to drag out a lecture just to fill the time.
"Alright, that's it for today," Mr. Casto announced, grabbing his phone. "Class dismissed."
Jiro checked his phone screen. 2:43 PM.
Wow. Early dismissal! The ultimate blessing of college life.
The room instantly buzzed with the chaotic energy of students packing their bags. But as they prepared to bolt for the exit, a wild side quest appeared.
Wait... who are the cleaners?
With no official cleaning schedule assigned yet, the heavy lifting naturally fell to the command squad. The class officers—President Hidy, VP Princess, and a few others—sighed and immediately grabbed the brooms to sweep the dusty floor.
Aprille and Windy quickly grabbed dustpans, moving at 2x speed to help out Princess.
"Hurry, hurry! Let's finish this!" Aprille chanted while sweeping vigorously.
Jiro watched them from his seat. Right. The Island Trio.
They were rushing because they had an epic geographical commute ahead of them. They had to travel by a jeepney from the Taytay Tiangge all the way down to the Binangonan port just to catch a passenger boat to Talim Island. If they got caught in the notorious Tayuman traffic along the way, they'd be stranded on the mainland. It was a literal race against the tide.
Meanwhile, Jiro's own Circle of Friends had a completely different priority: escaping the cleaning duty altogether.
"Uy, let's go down now," Mira whispered, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
"Yeah, let's go," Cosma agreed.
They slipped out of Room 406 like ninjas and hit the DOWN ONLY stairs. First floor bound.
The moment their shoes touched the ground floor concrete, the girls initiated a speed-walk maneuver, heading straight to the extreme right wing of the building.
Destination: The Girls' Restroom.
Jiro stopped at the entrance. He didn't follow them in, of course. He leaned his back against the open corridor fence, crossing his arms like a paid bouncer. The open air from the school grounds blew past him through the concrete railings.
Bruh, Jiro grumbled internally, staring at the passing students. It really feels like I am just a... mascot here. Or a background character in a harem anime, just carrying my heavy bag while waiting outside.
Since it was a public school setup, the wooden door to the Girls' Restroom was left wide open for ventilation. Jiro couldn't help but give a quick peek inside from his spot by the fence.
He expected them to be using the cubicles. But no.
Ivyn, Mira, Niewi, and Cosma were lined up shoulder-to-shoulder directly in front of the large sink mirror. They weren't there to pee. They were in the middle of a full-scale tactical beauty operation. Face powders, lip tints, and brushes were flying around like ninja tools.
Make-up session? For what??? Jiro's mind buffered. Are we meeting the President of the Philippines later? We just came from a hot classroom!
Suddenly, Niewi paused her lip-tint application. She spotted Jiro peeking from the hallway and walked toward the open door.
"Uy, teh," Niewi asked casually, hitting him with the ultimate friendly slang. "Are you coming with us? We will go to the mall eh. Let's hang out."
Jiro blinked. Mall? Air conditioning? Food that isn't instant noodles?
"Ah, okay. G," Jiro agreed, nodding.
"Yay! Just wait for us there ah!" Niewi smiled, retreating immediately back to her spot at the mirror to finish her aesthetic adjustments.
Jiro stepped fully back into the hallway, leaning against the corridor fence once again and watching the campus grounds below.
The wait continues.
2:51 PM.
Finally, they came out from the open restroom doorway. The tactical beauty operation was a success. They looked fresh, their lip tints perfectly leveled up, and their social energy fully restored.
The Magnificent Seven was complete again, back from the beauty room... I mean, restroom.
"Uy, let's go!" Niewi announced, leading the charge.
As they walked down the open hallway toward the campus gate, the strategic planning for their afternoon escape officially commenced.
"So, mall right? Let's just roam around there eh," Mira suggested, adjusting her bag.
"Yeah, G! Let's eat and chill," Ivyn agreed enthusiastically.
They stepped out of the KSU campus gate. The weather this time had finally shifted. The thick, gloomy clouds from earlier had broken apart, surrendering to the afternoon. It wasn't blindingly bright, but there were faded sun shades casting a warm, golden glow over the industrial subdivision. It was a bit warm, the kind of heat that makes you want to seek shelter immediately.
To avoid melting on the pavement, the group crossed the narrow street and hung out by the massive wall of the glass factory building directly in front of the campus. The towering structure provided a perfect, wide strip of shade against the afternoon sun.
Jiro stood there. Beside him, Niewi, Mira, Ivyn, Mona, and Cicille were technically ready to hail a tricycle, but they held their ground.
Cosma was standing slightly apart, tapping furiously on her phone screen.
"Wait me please, guys ah," Cosma pleaded, looking up. "Just wait for a bit, my partner is picking me up on a motorcycle eh. She is near already, I am just chatting her."
"Ah, okay, okay," Mira nodded. "We will just wait for you to leave first before we take a trike."
They stood there under the factory shade, chatting idly and watching the other college students disperse into the warm afternoon.
At exactly 3:22 PM, the sound of a revving engine broke through the ambient street noise. A motorcycle pulled up right in front of their shaded sanctuary.
The rider cut the engine and smoothly took off the helmet, shaking out their hair.
Cosma's partner had arrived.
Her name was Sam. She had short, neatly cropped hair and carried a cool, effortless aura. She was dressed in a black and white striped shirt paired with black denim shorts—a style that friends often lovingly called tomboyish, and everyone was totally fine with it. She definitely had that main character chill vibe.
"Uy, you are here, finally," Cosma smiled, walking up to the motorcycle.
Sam nodded with a small smile and reached to the back, pulling out a spare helmet. She handed it over to Cosma.
"We will go ahead first ah to the mall," Cosma told the group while strapping the helmet securely under her chin. "Just catch up with us, you all should go together!"
Watching the smooth pick-up routine, the romance detectors of the COF went off instantly.
"Ay, the heck, I wish it too!" Niewi and Mira chorused, teasingly dragging out the syllables. "Pity us, we are just taking a tricycle eh!"
Cosma just laughed loudly at their wish it complaints. She finished setting up her helmet and climbed onto the back of the motorcycle, securing her spot.
"See you there guys!" Cosma waved.
Sam kicked the starter. The engine roared to life, a deep, satisfying growl that echoed against the glass factory building wall. With a quick rev, they sped off down the industrial road, taking the lead and leaving the rest of the Magnificent Seven to hail their own humble ride.
"Alright, our turn," Jiro said.
They didn't need to flag down a passing ride. Just like every other day, there was a tricycle terminal lined up right outside, just along the side of the campus gate. They crossed the narrow street once again and approached the waiting drivers.
Since there were exactly six of them left, it was a perfect fit for a single trip. They immediately filled up the seats—four squeezed inside the main sidecar, and two climbed up to sit right at the back behind the driver's seat.
With a loud rev of the engine, they were off. They dropped off around the bustling area of Taytay Tiangge, navigating through the afternoon crowd to cross the giant footbridge. From there, they successfully hailed a jeepney heading straight to the mall.
Commence Filler Episode.
The next hour was a blur of pure, unadulterated teenage energy. They arrived at the mall and immediately went into full chill mode. Having some fun, exploring the air-conditioned paradise, and naturally, taking obligatory group aesthetic pictures in the massive restroom mirrors.
They didn't even bother hitting the arcades. Instead, they just roamed the wide mall hallways, getting easily distracted by those free trial pop-up games set up right in the middle of the walkways. They stopped to play them for free just to test their luck and skill, laughing at their own sudden competitive energy. They even ended up playing around with the "man moving statues"—the human street performers painted in gold and bronze—laughing and posing for pictures while throwing coins into their buckets.
It was a brief, joyful escape from syllabuses, missing professors, and the heavy humidity of Room 406.
But every filler episode has to end.
4:30 PM.
Jiro finally stepped back into his own house. He carefully placed his bag on the mattress, sat down to take off his shoes and socks, and quickly changed out of his uniform before finally collapsing onto his bed.
The fun was over. Back to reality.
The physical exhaustion was catching up, but the digital warzone was just waking up.
He didn't even check his phone immediately. He just wanted to rest. His strategic "silent mode" was in full effect. No rings, no vibrations. Absolute peace.
But in the background, the group chats were exploding.
Hidy Medona (Section GC):Sent a Group Invite Link. "Pathfit po."
The PE 1 group chat was officially born. Then, Hidy followed up with the mandatory reminder that Mr. Shono had dropped earlier that morning.
Hidy Medona: "Guys, don't forget. Bring 1/2 index card and 1x1 picture next meeting for Sir Shono's classes."
Basic amateur artifacts. College starter pack complete.
And then, the real bombshell dropped.
Jesper Arufe: "Another announcement guys! Mr. Shono said that, for FIL 1 and HUM 1 (Arts), the first three groups will have to report next meeting."
Surprisingly, the group chat did not burst into flames.
There were no crying emojis. No panicked replies. Just a swift, silent wave of heart reactions acknowledging the impending doom.
The first three groups on the Excel sheets were officially sentenced to a double boss fight for their very first academic presentation. Unlike Dr. Manazaki's neatly structured Alpha-to-Falcon squads, Mr. Shono hadn't bothered with cool group names. It was just a brutal, alphabetical numbers game with mismatched squad sizes—some had four, some had five, some had two.
The class just absorbed the critical hit and quietly moved on, their collective anxiety instantly shifting to a much more pressing matter: the rumor of a new schedule.
And Jiro? He didn't react at all.
Because Jiro was resting. And because his brain, when he finally did read it later, would just coldly calculate the facts: I am Topic 10. The solo final boss for Filipino and the last trio for Art. November is still far away. Not my problem yet.
As the main group chat went a bit busy processing the new reality, Deanne Parina dropped something new into the mix—a terrifying possibility.
Deanne Parina: "Is there already a new schedule? Are your student portals already updated guys?"
Aprille Bolente: "What's yours?"
Deanne Parina: "I don't have a load ih."
The ultimate Filipino student struggle. No load, no data, no peace of mind.
Hidy immediately chimed in to stabilize the panic.
Hidy Medona: "Mine is not updated yet po."
Hidy Medona: "Maybe the Dean will send the updated schedule later."
A new schedule? Meaning the current one was a lie? The seeds of paranoia were planted.
Finally, at 5:41 PM, Jiro woke up from his mental hiatus. He opened his phone, the blue light reflecting in his eyes.
He scrolled through the dozens of messages. The PE link. The index cards. The double-reporting announcement. The phantom new schedule.
He read them all. And he gave absolutely zero reactions.
Just... neutral.
Thanks to his strategic toggled-off read receipts, no one could see that he was actually actively reading their panic. He was a digital ghost. Of course, the double-edged sword was that he also couldn't see who had seen his messages, but that was a trade-off he was more than willing to accept for stealth.
He locked his phone again. Whatever. The vlog is the main priority right now.
10:16 PM.
The night was deep, but his inner strategist was finally switching into Project Manager mode. They had a VMV vlog to submit by Monday, and the raw video clips were currently all sitting on Niewi's phone, waiting to be synced with the audio recordings on his own.
He sat up in bed, opened his Google Drive app, and began constructing the digital battlefield.
Create Folder: VMV Vlog Project - Group Falcon.
He tapped rapidly, organizing the workspace for his squad.
Subfolder: Videos.
Subfolder: Bloopers.Subfolder: Music.Subfolder: Voiceovers/Recorders.
A perfectly structured filing system to contain their Saturday chaos.
At 10:18 PM, he copied the main access link and pasted it into their newly formed MMW group chat.
Jiro Sanata: "Here is the Drive link for our raw files guys. Niewi, upload the videos here so I can start editing them tomorrow. Thanks."
The trap was set. The files just needed to arrive.
As the night goes deep, the clock slowly ticked toward midnight. The calendar flipped.
It is now Sunday.
In the group chats, the frantic energy of Saturday finally shifted into a brief moment of celebration.
Ping.
Nica Rosa: "Ay, happy birthday Meka!!!"
Windy Viyago: "Happy 18th birthday, Mekayla! Enjoy your day eh!"
Right, Jiro remembered, watching the digital confetti fill the chat. She mentioned it during the introductions. Today is her birthday.
He double-tapped the messages, sending a quick, silent heart reaction to add to the digital cheers. Happy birthday, Mekayla Sano! While the birthday girl was celebrating her legal age, Jiro was preparing for war.
Ding. Ding.
Notifications from Google Drive started trickling in. The raw files were syncing. The disjointed clips of their hallway performances, the low-angle footstep montages, the gloomy campus gate recitations—all of them were uploading into the shared folder.
Jiro didn't crack his knuckles—that actually hurt his joints. And he didn't sit up straight in some ergonomic chair, because there wasn't even a chair in his bedroom. He just lay flat on his mattress, the blue light of his phone screen illuminating his amused expression. The fun of the mall was over. The physical exhaustion of the campus run was gone.
But the actual video editing? That was a problem for Tomorrow Morning Jiro.
Tonight Jiro was busy scrolling on Reddit. He was hunting for memes, silently laughing at wrong grammar situations. Just yesterday, he had hit an absolute goldmine. He had been passing by the Technology & Innovation Society (the organization for BTLED ICT students under the COE department) bulletin board when he spotted a specific sticky note proudly displayed on their freedom wall.
It read: "I want to passed 1st year in this campus =)"
Jiro had snapped a quick picture of it and posted it. It was currently sitting at more than 100 upvotes and 20 comments. Yes, Filipinos are known for the obsessive use of the past tense. He chuckled quietly, scrolling through the sarcastic replies in the thread.
The raw files were ready. The timeline was set.
But for now, the editor will rest. He will carry the light tomorrow morning, ready to attack with screen and sound.
END OF THE EDITOR