(Manila — State University Campus, 2076)
The air was too thick to think.
Manila heat had a way of clinging to your hair, your clothes, your plans.
Mika Alvarado Yamaguchi stood under the shade of the administration building, holding a paper cup of melted iced latte that was no longer iced.
She checked her orientation map again — digital, glowing, already glitching.
GYM B — BADMINTON CLUB SIGN-UPS.
That was her destination. Her plan was simple: join a sport that didn't require yelling, running, or human contact.
The universe, apparently, had other plans.
The Spill
It happened fast — the way errors always do.
Someone sprinted out of the cafeteria shouting, "Bro, late na tayo sa tryouts!"
A flash of a cup, a glint of panic —
then cold liquid across Mika's form sheet.
"Ah—! Sorry!" the boy gasped, his voice somewhere between a laugh and a car crash.
He tried to dab the spill with tissue.
The ink bled.
The word "BADMINTON" smeared into "BASKET…" something.
She blinked.
He grinned weakly.
"Pwede pa yan, dry lang natin!"
It didn't.
The Wrong Door
Hours later, Mika followed her map to a large building labeled GYM B.
Sweat, laughter, sneakers — too loud for badminton.
But she assumed maybe people here just loved it more.
A whistle shrieked.
A tall woman with a clipboard barked, "New recruit? You're late. Manager slot, right? Good. We needed one."
"Wait—manager?" Mika started.
"Yeah. The men's team. Come in, before I change my mind."
Coach Yssa Mendoza didn't wait for permission.
She shoved a towel and a clipboard into Mika's hands.
By the time Mika realized the misunderstanding, five basketballs were already bouncing.
She took a breath.
"It's… fine. Temporary system error."
The Team
From the sideline, she observed the chaos.
#7 — Tommy Ramos, the latte criminal himself, was running drills like his life depended on it.
Every pass looked like an apology.
#9 — Luis Ferrer sat on the bench, half-eating a sandwich mid-play.
#14 — Noel Castaneda, the rookie, tripped over his own laces and pretended it was a stretch.
And in the center — Takuro Reyes, the captain.
Balanced. Measured. The only one whose movements looked deliberate.
Mika's brain automatically started cataloging.
Rhythm intervals: irregular.
Communication latency: 4.7 seconds average.
Hydration efficiency: 61%.
Team morale: high but inefficiently distributed.
She sighed quietly.
"Badminton would never."
Coach's Orders
Halfway through practice, Coach Yssa pointed at her.
"You—Manager-chan—get the stats board ready."
"I'm not—" Mika began, but the coach was already shouting at someone else.
Tom jogged over, grinning like nothing had happened.
"Hey, thanks for joining. Sorry ulit about the coffee, ha?"
Mika stared at him.
"Your apology rate is higher than your shooting percentage."
He blinked. "Wow. That's harsh."
She scribbled on the clipboard anyway.
If she was going to be trapped here, she might as well make the numbers behave.
The Water Break
The gym smelled of sweat, dust, and some unholy fusion of energy drink and vinegar.
Mika filled bottles, passed them out mechanically.
Takuro was the only one who said thank you properly.
"First day?" he asked, sitting on the bleachers.
She nodded. "By accident."
He smiled faintly. "Best things start that way."
She didn't answer. She was too busy checking if the stat sheet margins were aligned.
After Practice
When the last whistle blew, she finally exhaled.
Her shirt stuck to her back. Her hair had given up entirely.
She gathered the bottles, folded towels, erased the board.
Takuro found her still there when everyone else had gone.
"You don't have to clean everything," he said.
"I know."
"Then why?"
"Because it's messy."
He looked at her for a long second — half amusement, half respect.
Then he picked up another towel and started helping.
The gym echoed only with the sound of fabric on wood.
Later — At Home
Kenta was halfway through reheating noodles when Mika walked in.
"You smell like defeat," he said.
She dropped her bag.
"Basketball."
"Nice. Manager?"
"…Accidentally."
"Like me becoming a drifter."
He laughed. She didn't.
Then she did — quietly.
Their mother called from the kitchen:
"Mika, how was school?"
"Loud."
"Good. That means you're listening."
Midnight
Mika sat by her window, campus lights glowing like lazy stars.
Her clipboard leaned against the desk, stats half-finished.
She thought about Takuro's calm voice.
Tommy's chaotic grin.
Coach Yssa's bark that somehow sounded like care.
She opened her notebook and wrote one line:
"I didn't choose this team. But maybe… it chose me."
She stared at it for a while, then crossed it out.
Too dramatic.
Instead, she wrote:
"Tomorrow: buy better pen. Avoid coffee boy."
END OF EPISODE 1 — "THE WRONG COURT."