The fourth day of Regionals arrived with the sound of rackets smacking shuttlecocks, sneakers squeaking on the volleyball court, and the unmistakable echo of Coach Tonton yelling, "NO, THAT WAS IN—LOOK AT YOUR EYES, MAN!"
Badminton was back in the spotlight.
Alona stood near the court, adjusting her grip on the racket. Across from her, Clarisse Valerio warmed up with silent precision. Former rivals. Now teammates.
Clarisse, the girl who had beaten her soundly at Provincials with clinical grace and zero mercy, hadn't spoken more than three sentences to her since arriving.
Today, they were paired for the girls' doubles match. First time.
"Try not to overthink," Clarisse said, coolly tossing the shuttlecock into the air and catching it again. "Just flow."
"I usually do," Alona replied, managing a tiny smile. "But if you shout at me mid-rally, I will trip you."
Clarisse gave her the smallest smirk—then turned away.
Coach Cely watched from the sidelines, arms crossed and eyes steady. It was a gamble, pairing them. But maybe friction could spark fire.
The game began.
First few points were rocky—different tempos, mismatched instincts. Clarisse played sharp and aggressive; Alona moved like poetry, all rhythm and angles. It almost clashed.
Almost.
Thwack. Clarisse spiked one down the line.
Whiff. Alona chased a drop shot and flicked it over with impossible finesse.
They found something between them—a current. By the second set, they didn't need to call. One stepped forward, the other covered behind. Like two melodies layering into a song.
By match point, Clarisse turned and muttered, "Not bad."
Alona grinned. "Same."
On the basketball side, Dane powered through a narrow win with Iriga Valley's backup point guard now playing with them. The kid was fast but reckless. Dane had to clean up the chaos—but something about it pushed him harder, smarter.
He liked the challenge. And maybe... he was getting used to not doing it all alone.
Volleyball won their match in straight sets. Clarisse, now energized, cheered harder than anyone from the sidelines—even louder than Coach Leia.
Tennis dropped a singles match but came back with a doubles win. Jomar called it poetic justice. Mira said it was just "good warm-up for real pain tomorrow."
As night fell, the teams gathered again for dinner, the quiet buzz of fatigue mixing with laughter and light teasing.
Alona found herself sitting beside Clarisse, who didn't speak much. But she didn't move either.
"You always play like that?" Clarisse asked eventually.
"Like what?"
"Like... you're dancing with the birdie."
"Better than treating it like a target," Alona shot back.
They both smiled, small and rare.
Something had changed.
And above it all, the fourth day of Regionals closed—not with fireworks or big speeches—but with new rhythm, new bonds, and maybe... a little more understanding between rivals.