The moment the cafeteria glass door clicked shut, the class trekked back to the Construction Technology building, marching straight into the loving, boiling embrace of the morning sun.
The walk back felt longer. The sun wasn't just up; it was angry. By the time they collapsed into their monobloc chairs inside the cramped classroom, the group was absolutely drained.
They didn't just walk. They showered. In sweat. In tears. Maybe a little bit of blood. Okay, mostly just sweat.
"Ahh..."
A collective groan of relief echoed through the room. Jiro finally returned to his sanctuary, letting his bag slide to the table with a dull thud. He shoved his earphones back in and hit play on PEACEKEEPER by STEREO DIVE FOUNDATION. The first beat blasted his ears, vibrating against his exhaustion.
Yeah, anime music heals the soul. Sometimes…
"Jiro," Mina and Jessa called out, tapping his tired shoulder. Mina flapped a notebook against her face like a dying bird trying to take flight. "We're going back to the faculty area. Electric fan. Wanna come?"
Jiro channeled his inner L (Lawliet)—slumping so hard his spine looked like a question mark—and didn't even bother to pause his playlist.
"Ah, later," he mumbled. "I'm too tired, duh… and I want peace. Later… I will."
"Okay, okay, we'll just stay there…" Jessa teased, grabbing her phone. "Just stay there Jiro."
Jiro remained in the room, enjoying the sticky but stationary atmosphere.
But the universe—specifically the university schedule—hated peace.
Less than ten minutes later, a classmate rushed in, breathless, looking like she was delivering a declaration of war.
"Guys! Update!" she shouted, waving her phone frantically. "We have to find the professor for UTS (Understanding the Self)."
Jiro unplugged his earphones, and his head snapped up. No.
"She's at the OSDS Building," the classmate continued, pointing vaguely toward the back of the campus. "It's right next to the Indoor Gymnasium we just passed earlier."
Jiro stared at the whiteboard. He felt his soul leave his body and float away.
We literally just came from there.
Another hunt?
Is this a degree or a bounty hunting license? First NSTP, now UTS? Do we get XP for this?
Ahh! Why is college life like this? So fun. Hahaha. I love it.
9:36 AM.
Mina and Jessa headed back into the room.
"Jiro!" Mina beckoned, looking annoyingly energetic despite the heat. "Tara! Let's go find her. Adventure Time part two! Come on!"
Jiro looked at them. He looked at his bag. He looked at the monobloc chair that was currently his best friend.
Adventure Level 2: Accepted.
He sighed—a sound that contained the weight of a thousand commutes—and stood up to grab his gear. "'Kay, fine. I'm up, I'm up. I'm doing the standing thing."
Look at this athletic display. My knees are screaming, but I am obeying. Happy?
Mina and Jessa turned to the rest of the class, taking charge.
"Uh, guys! We'll go look for her. You all just stay here," Mina announced, already backing toward the door. "We'll just… update you in the GC. Thankies!"
Without waiting for a response, she rushed out of the room, dragging Jiro, Jessa, and the rest of the circle with her.
They stepped out.
Flashbang.
The sun was at its peak "angry microwave" setting. It was the kind of heat that made the pavement shimmer and your will to live evaporate instantly.
The party roster: Jiro, Jessa, Janna, Mina, Dana, Leslie, and Shelly. They marched toward the OSDS (Office of Student Development Services) building, retracing their steps from earlier like confused tourists.
"Sheesh, another heat wave…," Jiro mumbled.
He didn't hesitate. He deployed his tactical umbrella.
Click.
It became a sudden magnet.
"Uy, Jiro, pa-share!" Janna yelled, ducking under the canopy before he could even consent. "Thanks, bestie!"
"Me too! I'm melting!" Mina laughed, squeezing in on his other side.
Jiro ended up sharing his shade again, huddled with Mina and Janna like sardines in a tin can. Shelly had brought her own umbrella, forming a secondary unit nearby.
Dana and Jessa, however, felt brave. Or perhaps just insane. They decided to power walk under the direct sunlight, shielding their eyes with their hands like they were in a dramatic music video.
"You guys, uh, are going to toast, are you all okay?," Jiro warned them from the safety of his blue canopy. "Don't cry to me when you get sunburned."
"Nah, we're just fine! Free Vitamin D!" Jessa yelled back, though she was already squinting regretfully against the glare. "It's healthy!"
Yeah, Jiro thought, watching them suffer. Healthy. Keep telling yourself that.
They navigated the campus loop once more, a sweating, complaining, wandering band of freshmen searching for a teacher in a building they had never entered.
They swarmed the OSDS building like a SWAT team. They immediately cornered some random students hanging out in the lobby.
"Excuse me," Mina asked, slightly breathless. "Do you know where Mrs. Rosita is?"
"Oh, she's in the office," one student replied, pointing a finger toward the ceiling. "Upstairs."
"Thank you!"
The group rushed toward the stairs. Jiro looked at the steps with deep spiritual exhaustion.
Stairs. Nice. Because the campus marathon wasn't enough leg day.
They dragged themselves up to the second floor. At the top, a glass door barred their path, keeping the Antarctic air inside. A security guard stood beside like a bouncer at an exclusive club.
"Excuse me, sir," Mina approached him. "Can we go in? We're looking for Mrs. Rosita. Our prof in UTS."
The guard eyed the group. "How many of you?"
"Seven," the group muttered. The Magnificent Seven. Sweaty Edition.
"Ah, okay," the guard nodded, sliding a logbook toward them. "You can go in, but don't stay too long inside, okay? Just sign the logbook."
"Yes, sir," Mina promised, quickly scribbling her name on the page.
She pushed the glass door open.
Whoosh.
A blast of icy, conditioned air slapped them in the face. It was violent. It was holy. It was the only currency that could pay Jiro's sweat debts.
They walked straight to the waiting area. The six girls immediately collapsed onto the long sofa, melting into the cushions like exhausted puddles.
But Jiro? Jiro did not sit.
Instead, he dropped into a deep squat on the floor beside the sofa. He gripped the edge of a mini glass table with one hand and the arm of the sofa with the other for balance.
It was the L posture again. The Gargoyle.
His COFs looked down at him. He looked ridiculous—squatting on the floor while still wearing his massive "Hulk" backpack and clutching his tactical umbrella against his chest.
Dana stared at him, her face twisting into a sympathetic grimace. "What on earth..." she sighed. "I feel tired just looking at you, Jiro. You look like you're suffering."
The group burst into tired laughter.
"Come on, take that off," Mina urged.
They practically forced him to de-load. They helped pry the heavy bag off his shoulders and placed it, along with the umbrella, onto the safe zone of the sofa.
"Move over," Mina commanded the group.
The girls shifted, squeezing together to make a small space on the cushion. Jessa stood up and grabbed a spare monobloc chair from the corner of the office so she could sit separately, freeing up just enough room for Jiro.
"Sit," they ordered.
Jiro finally sat. But he didn't relax.
He perched on the very edge of the cushion, his back rigid, refusing to let his spine touch the backrest. He looked like he was ready to bolt at any second.
I hesitate to sit on any public fabric, he thought, eyeing the sofa with some big hesitations.
Is this actually clean? How many sweaty students have sat here before me? Can bacteria survive in air-conditioning?
Hahaha. No thanks. I'll hover.
The COF watched Jiro's stiff, hovering posture with amusement.
"Jiro, seriously?" Dana laughed. "Why are you sitting like that? Lean back!"
"Don't you want to lean back?" Mina added, poking his rigid arm. "The sofa won't bite, come on, hahaha."
Jiro shook his head slightly, maintaining his tactical hover. "I'm fine. Nah, that's okay. Hehe."
I do not trust the foam. I do not trust the fabric.
As the chatter faded into comfortable silence, the door to a private cubicle opened.
Mrs. Rosita emerged.
She was an older professor, likely in her fifties, but she carried herself with a pleasant, graceful energy that defied the harshness of the university environment. She spotted the group of students occupying her waiting area.
She walked over, stopping in front of Jessa.
"Hello!" Mrs. Rosita beamed. "And why are you all here?"
Her tone wasn't strict or annoyed. She laughed warmly, instantly breaking the ice. It felt less like meeting a professor and more like running into a favorite aunt. The vibe shifted from 'academic investigation' to 'close friends catching up.'
"Good morning, Ma'am!" the group greeted in unison, smiling back.
"We're looking for our UTS class, Ma'am," Jessa explained.
"Ah, yes!" Mrs. Rosita nodded. "I just need to print the syllabus first." She sighed, gesturing vaguely toward her desk. "But the printer is fighting me. It hates landscape format. Why is technology so moody?"
She laughed again, shaking her head.
"Wait here for a moment, okay?" she told them. "I need to ask for help in the other cubicle to force this thing to print. Just chill."
She bustled away into another office to call help, leaving the group alone in the cool air once more.
Just after seven minutes of battling the technological demons of the printer, Mrs. Rosita emerged from the office cubicle, waving a stack of papers like a flag of victory.
"Oh, finally," she announced, beaming. "Here is our syllabus for UTS."
She handed the master copy to Jessa and began a rapid-fire explanation of the contents—future lessons, expectations, the flow of the semester. The group nodded along, murmuring their thanks.
Meanwhile, Jiro sat there, fighting a losing battle with his own brain.
Syllabus? he thought, frowning slightly. What is that? Is that related to syllables? Like... grammar?
Curiosity piqued (and confusion mounting), he leaned over to Jessa. "Let me see."
Jessa tilted the paper toward him. Jiro scanned the document.
Vision. Mission. Subject Name. Objectives. Lessons per Week.
His brow smoothed out.
Ah. It's basically a lesson plan. Or a curriculum guide. Just in a fancy college format.
Mystery solved. It's just a list of things we have to survive.
As the mini-orientation wound down, Janna raised her hand slightly. "Ma'am, where would be our room?"
Mrs. Rosita paused, tapping her chin. "Hmm. Let's just look for one there... in the old Education building. Just let us find there."
The group nodded, gathering their bags (and Jiro's heavy burden).
The Old Education Building.
Jiro sighed internally.
And so begins the Final Hunt.
The Room Hunt.
They rushed out of the office and the OSDS building with the urgency of people escaping a crime scene.
Mina immediately pulled out her phone, fingers flying across the screen as she updated the section GC.
"Found her! Go to the Registrar's building now! Meet us at the old Education building next door!"
With the beacon lit, the group looped the campus once again. They trekked back into the heat until they reached the old Education building situated right beside the Registrar's office. They slipped into the corridor, grateful for the shade even if the air was still thick.
The hallway was busy, filled with students walking to and from classes. Since it was a typical state university setting, most classroom doors were left wide open for ventilation.
As they navigated the crowd, Jiro glanced into an active Education classroom.
He froze for a second.
It looked... nice.
There was a massive, wide-screen TV at the front. The left wall had a blackboard, the right had a whiteboard. There was even a wooden platform stage, just like in every slice-of-life anime he'd ever watched.
But the real twist? The chairs.
Instead of the torture devices known as monoblocs or armchairs, the students were sitting on task chairs—cushioned, ergonomic office-style chairs with hard desks attached.
Weeeehh. Very comfy.
There were lockers at the back of the room. Bookshelves lined the sides. There was no AC, sure, but the room was alive with a fleet of stand fans and ceiling fans creating a wind tunnel.
Jiro walked past, leaving in awe.
No wonder the Education department is a blockbuster, he thought. Slots run out instantly. Standards are high. It's the premium server.
After that brief glimpse of luxury, reality set in. They had to find their own space.
They took the stairs. First floor? Full. Second floor? Locked.
They circled the building again. Up. Down. Around. Back and fourth, like confused ants. Every decent room was either occupied by a class or locked tight by the admin.
Finally, they dragged themselves up to the third floor—the highest peak of the building.
At the end of the hall, they found it. A vacant, open classroom.
"Finally! A vacant and open room" Mrs. Rosita told the CT class.
"Guys, we found a room!" Mina shouted and waving to the other lost CT classmates wandering the hallway below. "Up here!"
The class flooded in.
Classroom secured.
Jiro walked in and looked around. The awe from earlier evaporated instantly.
It was a... typical classroom.
No lockers. The bookshelves were empty and dusty. No AC. There was a wooden platform stage and a teacher's table, but the TV was a tiny flat screen that looked like a computer monitor.
And the seats?
Armchairs.
Wooden, rigid, unyielding armchairs.
Bruh.
Jiro dropped his bag onto one of the wooden seats.
At least we have a room instead of nothing.
The UTS orientation finally began. Mrs. Rosita stood at the front, holding a prospectus like a holy scripture.
"Okay class, here are our lessons for UTS," she announced, her voice echoing slightly in the bare room. "Lesson 1 is all about... From the Perspective of Philosophy."
She was in the middle of explaining the philosophical roots of the self when—
BLAG!
The wooden door slammed shut with a violence that shook the doorframe.
The class jumped. Mrs. Rosita froze, eyes wide.
"What!" she exclaimed, clutching her chest. "Someone is making their presence felt! You guys are in trouble! There's a ghost (just kidding)!"
The tension broke instantly, and the class erupted into laughter. Mrs. Rosita laughed with them as she walked over to open the door again.
"You know," she said, securing the door, "this building is already old enough to have its own history." She gestured to the window, referencing the brutalist, unpainted exterior that looked like a concrete fortress. "But at least the classrooms are well-painted in light beige. It hides the age well. Anyway, it was just the wind. That's it."
She returned to the platform stage and picked up the chalk. On the blackboard, she wrote a question that was simple yet terrifyingly vague.
What is the self?Do you know yourself?
She dusted her hands. "Okay, bring out a 1/2 sheet of yellow paper, crosswise. Let's start our first activity."
Activity time.
Jiro unzipped his bag and retrieved his supplies. He pulled out his pad of 1/2 yellow paper crosswise and began to tear a sheet.
Riiip.
The sound was like a dinner bell.
Suddenly, hands appeared from everywhere. Left, right, front, back. A forest of open palms surrounded him.
"Jiro, gimme!" "Jiro, me too!" "See? I'm kind, gimme..."
Jiro stared at the many hands invading his personal space.
Disrupted. Annoyed.
He sighed—a long, heavy exhale—and handed out the papers silently. I am not a student. I am a school supply charity.
They continued to do their first activity in relative silence, the sound of pens scratching against paper filling the room.
"Okay, if you're done, pass your papers," Mrs. Rosita announced. "Those who submitted can go home."
One by one, students stood up, placed their papers on the teacher's table, and left. The room emptied until only a few remained.
As usual, Jiro was taking his time. He and Dana were the last ones writing.
His Circle of Friends didn't leave him, though. They waited near the door, chatting with Mrs. Rosita. Jessa struck up a friendly conversation with the professor, turning the waiting game into a social hour.
Finally, Jiro wrote his last sentence.
Done.
He and Dana stood up and walked to the front. Jiro placed his output on the stack.
Mrs. Rosita picked up Jiro's paper. She adjusted her glasses, reading a bit of his answer while holding the other outputs. Her eyebrows shot up.
She looked at the paper. Then she looked at Jiro. She was impressed.
Jiro saw the reaction but kept his face neutral.
"Okay, let's go," she smiled.
They walked out of the room together, spilling into the hallway. Just right outside the door, Mrs. Rosita turned to Jiro's friends, still holding the thought.
"You know," she told the group, gesturing to Jiro. "This guy... he has potential. I read his answers. Deep."
The group nodded, looking at Jiro with proud grins. "I told ya, eh!"
"Thank you, Ma'am," Jiro said, bowing his head slightly. "I appreciate it."
He stayed neutral on the outside, but deep down, the validation felt... decent.
"Thank you, Ma'am! Goodbye, Ma'am!" the group chorused.
"Goodbye! Stay safe, guys!" Mrs. Rosita waved while carrying yellow papers.
They parted ways in the corridor. Jiro and his COF turned right, heading toward the stairways to descend from the third floor. Mrs. Rosita turned left, walking away toward the inner side of the hallway, disappearing into the shadows of the old building.
11:49 AM.
They emerged from the campus gate, walking past the Morong National High School and the Barangay Hall. Before they could cross the main road to the hospital side, Jessa stopped in her tracks.
"Hey, are you guys buying?" she asked, pointing excitedly at a coconut drink vendor parked on the sidewalk.
The allure of cold buko (coconut) juice was too strong. The six girls immediately reached for their wallets, digging into their pockets and bags.
Jiro stepped back, detaching himself from the transaction. He watched the environment instead.
People walked past them, dodging the street vendors. Motorcycles and tricycles buzzed aggressively through the narrow side street, while out on the main road, slower vehicles—cars, delivery trucks, and heavy jeepneys—crawled in the midday traffic.
Across the street, the familiar facade of the public hospital loomed over them.
Born there. Passing by there.
"Jiro?" Jessa asked, holding out a coin. "You want one? It's cold."
Jiro shook his head immediately. "Nah. I just want to save money. Pass."
Lies.
His internal thoughts screamed a different reason.
I don't trust the quality of that water. Is that mineral? Highly doubtful. That is a biological roulette. I am not risking my stomach today.
He waited patiently while his Circle of Friends enjoyed their sips, holding the cold coconut drinks in clear plastic bags with straws sticking out. They looked refreshed. Jiro looked... safe.
As they finished, some of them made a move to toss the plastic on the side of the road.
"Hoy," Jiro scolded, pointing to a nearby bin just beside the vendor. "Throw it in the… trash, not the streets. Ugh… We are college students now, eh..."
They laughed but obeyed, disposing of the plastic properly.
"We're going to hang out for a bit," Mina told him. "Let's go for a walk. You wanna come?"
"Uhh… Pass," Jiro said, shifting his backpack straps. "But I'm heading home na."
He watched them walk away—a group of friends enjoying the after-class vibes. He didn't feel left out. He felt relieved.
He crossed the street alone, boarded his jeepney, and let the commute swallow him whole again.
As the engine roared to life, heading back to Taytay, Jiro performed his ritual. He grabbed his phone and the red earphone pouch. This time, it wasn't about vibing. It was a defensive measure. He needed to block the useless noise and delete the stressful afternoon scenery from his mind.
The jeepney wasn't full, but it was far from peaceful. A group of high school students sat nearby—a couple, specifically—laughing loudly while watching something on a shared phone screen.
Lovebirds. Noisy ones.
Jiro ignored them. Dedma.
He turned on his mobile data—battery life be damned—and opened his manga app. He needed a distraction. He loaded up My Hero Academia, clutching the phone like a lifeline as he scrolled for new chapters. For the soundtrack? He queued up his After Laughter playlist.
The upbeat synth-pop masked the gloom of the commute. He didn't care about the surroundings anymore. He was locked in.
Traffic? No problem. That's it.
At 1:25 PM, Jiro finally arrived home.
He dropped his bag. He took off his shoes.
As simple as that.
END OF THE FOURTH FLOOR