Lights from the barber shop sign bled pink across the puddles. Inside smelled like pomade and cheap aftershave. The barber didn't ask questions. Just nodded when I sat.

  Mullet. Short sides, long back. The razor buzzed against my scalp. I stared at the mirror, eyes hollow, jaw set. He finished, dusted my neck. I paid 300 and walked out.

  Next door: piercing stall. A guy in a black tank, tattoos crawling his arms. No small talk.

  Eyebrow first. The needle punched through. Sharp sting, blood bead. Then side labret, lower lip right side, the metal bar cold on my tongue. Two earlobes, simple studs. Each one quick. I didn't flinch. Paid 800. Walked out heavier, sharper.

  The streets reacted before people did.

  A glass cracked somewhere, a bottle or window, didn't matter. Shadows stretched longer under the streetlights, like they pulled away from me. A dog barked once, sharp, then quiet. A distant siren wailed, cut off mid-note.

  I walked. Hood up, hands in pockets. The city showed its teeth.

  A beggar sat against a closed Jollibee shutters. Cardboard sign: "For food." He rolled a cigarette between his fingers, not tobacco, a cardboard strip, smoldering slow. He inhaled, coughed wet. He looked up as I passed, and flinched hard. His back pressed to the wall like I was going to step on him.

  I stopped. Looked down.

  He stared back. Eyes wide, pupils small. "You good, buddy?"

  I stopped. Looked down.

  The word hit wrong. Buddy. Like we were the same. Like he knew me.

  Something cracked.

  I stepped in. My boot slammed on his chest, hard. His cardboard cig flew, smoldering on the wet concrete. He wheezed, doubled over, arms up late.

  I kicked him again. His ribs cracked under my sole. He curled fetal, gasping. "Sir—please—"

  Third kick in the gut. Air whooshed out. He retched, blood flecked on his lips.

  I stood over him. No rage in my face.

  He coughed wet. "Why...?"

  I didn't answer. Just walked.

  Beggar stayed curled, moaning low.

  I kept moving.

  Terminal next. Bus to NAIA. 10k in my pocket. Crumpled bills, last of the blood money. Enough for a ticket, maybe a meal. Nothing else.

  The line was short. Ticket counter girl didn't look up long and stamped the paper. "Cebu, one way. Gate 7."

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  I took it. Walked to waiting area. Sat in a plastic bench. Rain started again, tapping the roof.

  The city kept rotting around me.

  I stayed numb.

  Waiting for the bus.

  Waiting for whatever came next.

  Then a scream behind me. Raw. "Help! That guy! He jumped me!"

  The shadows shifted. Two more from the alley. Skinny, drunk, one with a broken bottle neck, other with a chain wrapped in his fist. Friends. They saw him down, saw me walking.

  "Hey! You! Stop!"

  I turned slowly.

  They charged. Bottle guy first. "You think you can just kick him and walk?"

  No words. Just moved.

  The bottle came high. I stepped inside his swing. Grabbed his wrist. Twisted it hard. Crack. The bottle dropped. He screamed. I smashed my elbow into his nose, his cartilage popped, blood sprayed hot on my face. Rain mixed it pink down my cheek.

  Chain guy now swung low. I ducked. Grabbed the chain mid-arc. Yanked. Pulled him off balance. A knee to his jaw and his teeth clacked, blood sprayed. He dropped. I stomped ribs once. Crack. He wheezed, curled.

  Bottle guy staggered up. Knife out now, small folder. Lunged wild. "Die!"

  I caught his arm. Slammed it against the wall. His knife clattered. Headbutted him, forehead to nose. Blood gushed. He reeled.

  Then the third guy hit me from behind. A pipe to my back. My ribs cracked.

  Air whooshed out. I staggered.

  Bottle guy recovered. Punched my jaw, bone jarred, lip split.

  Blood filled my mouth, copper taste.

  Chain guy crawled up. Kicked my knee. I dropped. They piled on. Boots to my ribs, fists to my face. Nose broke wet. My eye swelled shut. Blood curtained my vision.

  I fought back. Grabbed the bottle guy's leg. Pulled. He fell. I slashed once, his eyebrow opened, skin parted clean. Blood poured.

  The pipe guy swung again. Missed. I rolled, grabbed the chain. Wrapped it around his neck. Yanked. He gagged, clawed.

  Beggar sobbing louder. "Boss... enough... please..."

  The light glinted on my busted skin, mine and theirs. Rain ran red down the gutters. Sirens distant, getting closer.

  I stood. Breathing ragged. My face wrecked, cheek split deep, jaw throbbing, nose crooked, eye half-closed. Ribs screaming with every breath. Blood dripped from chin, mixed with the rain.

  They stayed down. Moaning. Crawling.

  I wiped the blood from my mouth. Spat red on the concrete.

  I walked away.

  Limping.

  Terminal lights ahead.

  Cebu is waiting.

  Bus pulled in late. Engine coughed black smoke. The line shuffled. I boarded last, face still swollen, lip crusted, ribs screaming every breath. I sat at the back row. Window seat. Hood up. No one looked twice.

  The city rolled past indifferent. Sirens faded behind. Neon smeared on the glass. Jeepneys honked like nothing happened. People kept moving. Life didn't pause for blood on the concrete.

  I stayed calm. Breath steady. Pain is just noise now.

  The bus rattled north. NAIA lights grew. Terminal dim. Ticket scanned. Security waved me through. Face wrecked, they didn't blink. Manila doesn't care.

  The flight was short. Cebu touched down at dawn. Air is thick, salt and diesel. No bag.

  I walked out. Mactan's streets already hot. I wandered. No plan. No direction. Face throbbed. Ribs caught on every step.

  Hours blurred. The sun climbed. I ended up in a strip mall. 7/11 glowed cold white.

  I went in. Bought San Mig tallboy and a Malboro Gold pack.

  Walked out. Leaned to the headlight outside. Popped the beer and lit a smoke.

  Then I saw her.

  Inside the glass. She sat at the back corner table, straight black bangs framing her tired eyes, small silver hairpin clipped neat on one side, college uniform still on, white blouse half-untucked, navy skirt wrinkled from a long day, name tag crooked. Ramen cup cold in front of her. Hoodie draped over her shoulders. Lost in the steam, isolated.

  She lifted her head slow. Eyes met mine through the glass.

  No smile. No wave. Just recognition.

  She knew the look. I knew hers.

  I held the stare.

  She didn't look away.

  Tension sat between us. Thick. Unspoken.

  Beer halfway gone. Smoke curling.

  She stayed looking.

  The city kept moving.

  I didn't.