The soreness was a good kind of pain. It was a trophy earned from the hardwood of Araneta, a physical memory of their victory over Imperium. Two days had passed, and the roar of the crowd had faded into the familiar sounds of Cubao. Riki Dela Peña limped slightly as he walked, a smirk on his face. "Ankles feel like they're full of gravel."
"Stop being old," Renz Alonzo said, handing him a cup of taho. He'd bought one for everyone, a small, sweet gesture that felt more like a ceremony.
They had bumped into each other by chance near the old street courts, drawn by the same unspoken pull. Thea was there, checking the straps on a equipment bag. Bornok arrived, late as always, but with a bag of warm pandesal. Drei Reyes was already analyzing their defensive rotations from the final play. And Teo Alvarado, the quiet Titan, was there too, not standing apart, but helping Thea carry a heavy crate of basketballs without a word.
It was just another morning. The sun was warm, the traffic was loud, and the smell of street food and exhaust was the air they breathed. This was the foundation of their reality. They walked together to Aling Bebang's, a unit, their laughter and easy teasing weaving into the city's noise. For the first time since the win, the pressure was gone, replaced by the simple, solid comfort of being a team.