The aftermath of a kiss is often silent, but for Kira and Yokomi, the silence was deafening—charged with the electricity of a storm that refused to die down.
The windows of the sports car were fogged over, creating a cocoon of silver mist that shielded them from the prying eyes of the world. But as the adrenaline of the chase began to fade, a new kind of fear took its place: the fear of what they had just started.
KIRA'S POV
My breath was still ragged, hitting the cold air in shallow puffs. I could still taste her—sweet, like the provinces, a stark contrast to the bitter whiskey and metallic tang of my own life. I looked at Yokomi. She was shivering, her wet dress clinging to her, but her eyes... they weren't looking at the car, or the rain, or the looming threat of Marco. She was looking at me as if I were her entire world.
And that terrified me more than a dual-engine failure.
"You need to get dry," I said, my voice returning to its low, commanding frequency, though it lacked its usual ice. I reached into the back seat and pulled out my flight jacket—the heavy, leather one with the PAL insignia. I draped it over her shoulders.
She looked tiny in it. Lost. "Kira... yung sinabi mo kanina. About the modeling gig. Gagawin ko ba talaga 'yun? Kahit natatakot ako?"
I reached out, my thumb grazing her jawline. I had to be strong for her. That was my role now. The protector. The stone wall. "The only way to beat a shadow is to step into the light, Yokomi. Marco thrives in the dark. He wants to keep you a secret so he can hurt you in secret. If you're on every billboard in Manila, he becomes the one hiding."
I started the engine. The low growl felt different now. We weren't just running; we were preparing for war.
"I'm taking you home. Not to your unit. To mine," I said.
She blinked, her cheeks turning a soft pink even in the dim light. "S-sa condo mo? Baka makita tayo ng press? O ni Marco?"
"My floor is restricted access. And I have security that doesn't answer to the airline," I replied, shifting the car into gear. "Tonight, you stay with me. It's the only place I can guarantee you'll wake up safe."
YOKOMI'S POV
Kira's condo was exactly how I imagined it would be: neat, cold, and smelling like a mountain of sandalwood. It was high up—higher than mine—on the 45th floor. The walls were mostly glass, showing the city lights twinkling like fallen stars. It was beautiful, but it felt a little bit lonely.
"Hala... ang laki naman dito," I whispered, clutching her leather jacket closer to me. It still smelled like her—that sharp, expensive scent that made my head spin. "Parang pwede nang mag-basketball dito sa loob."
Kira actually let out a small, dry chuckle as she locked the door behind us. It wasn't a full laugh, but it was enough to make my heart do a backflip.
"Take a shower. Left door in the hallway. There are fresh towels and a robe," she said, removing her tie with one hand. She looked so cool doing it, so masculine and composed, but I saw the way her fingers trembled slightly.
"Kira?"
She stopped, looking back at me. "Hm?"
"Salamat. Kasi... kahit stone-cold ka kunwari, alam kong ikaw yung pinakamabait na taong nakilala ko dito sa Manila."
She didn't answer. She just looked at me for a long beat, her gaze intense, before turning away to head to the kitchen.
I went into the bathroom. Wow! May TV sa tabi ng bathtub?! Grabe talaga ang mga piloto! I showered quickly, letting the warm water wash away the fear and the rain. When I stepped out, I was wearing a white silk robe that was way too long for me. I looked like a little ghost.
I walked into the living room and saw Kira standing by the window, a glass of water in her hand. She had changed into a simple black t-shirt and grey lounge pants. Without her uniform, she looked younger, more vulnerable.
"Are you hungry?" she asked without turning around.
"Medyo po. Pero okay lang, sanay ako sa gutom sa probinsiya," I joked, trying to lighten the mood.
She turned then, holding out a plate. It was... Spam and rice. The same thing I had given her. She had made it for me.
My throat tightened. I felt like I wanted to cry. I took the plate and sat on her white leather sofa. "Kira... bakit mo 'to ginawa?"
She sat on the other end of the sofa, keeping a safe distance, but her eyes never left me.
"Because it was the only thing I knew you liked. And because... I wanted to return the favor."
We ate in silence for a while. It wasn't the awkward silence from the jeepney. It was a silent vow.
"Yokomi," she said suddenly, her voice dropping an octave. "Tomorrow, everything changes. The agency will call. The airline will announce the campaign. You won't just be Anna Cristobal anymore. You'll be the face of an empire. Are you ready for that?"
I looked at her, my heart swelling with a mix of fear and love. "Basta ba sa huli, pagbaba ko ng stage, ikaw pa rin yung sasalubong sa'kin... ready ako."
THIRD PERSON:
02:00 AM. Philippine Airlines Maintenance Hangar.
While the city slept, the shadows at the airport moved. Marco Beckett wasn't at home. He was in the hangar, standing beneath the massive wing of the Airbus Kira had landed just yesterday. He was holding a wrench, his eyes fixed on the landing gear.
"If I can't have your heart, Kira, I'll take your wings," he muttered, his mind warped by years of rejection and a toxic need for control
.
He began to loosen a bolt—not enough to be caught by a standard pre-flight check, but enough to cause a catastrophic vibration upon landing.
Suddenly, the floodlights hissed to life.
"Step away from the aircraft, Captain Beckett."
Marco whirled around. Standing at the entrance of the hangar was a tall man in a dark suit—Chairman Tanaka's personal security chief, General Ramos. Behind him stood four armed guards.
"What the hell is this?" Marco snarled, dropping the wrench. "I'm a senior pilot. I have every right to be here for a check."
"Not at two in the morning. And not on Captain Lawson's assigned bird," the General said, stepping into the light. "The Chairman has taken a personal interest in this flight path. Every movement surrounding Captain Lawson is being monitored."
Marco's face contorted. "The Chairman? Why would he care about a vlogging pilot?"
"That is not for you to know. Leave. Now. Your flight privileges are being reviewed for 'unstable behavior.'"
Marco let out a guttural scream of frustration. He kicked a tool box, the metal clanging against the concrete floor like a funeral bell.
"This isn't over! Tell Kira she can't hide behind a billionaire forever!"
As Marco was escorted out, the General looked up at the aircraft. He pulled out his phone and made a call.
"Sir. He was tampering with the plane. We caught him."
"Good," the Chairman's voice came through, cold and ancient. "Keep Lawson safe for now. I need her to lead me to the girl. If the girl is truly my granddaughter, Lawson will be rewarded. If she is a fraud... they will both fall together."
KIRA'S POV:
The clock on the wall read 3:15 AM. Yokomi was fast asleep on the sofa, her breathing steady. I had tried to go to my bedroom, but I couldn't bring myself to leave her. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the silver SUV. I saw Marco's face.
I sat in the armchair across from her, watching the rise and fall of her chest.
Why was I doing this? I was a pilot. My life was about checklists, altitudes, and headings. This... this was chaos. She was a "probinsyana" with duckling pajamas and a heart too big for this city. I was a "masculine" workaholic who had forgotten how to feel anything but the vibration of an engine.
I stood up and walked over to her, kneeling on the rug. Her face was so soft in the moonlight. I reached out, my fingers hovering just inches from her cheek.
"I've failed three times, Yokomi," I whispered, the words finally coming out in the dark.
"Three people who said they loved me, until they realized I was too 'cold.' Until they realized I cared more about the sky than them. I don't know how to be what you need."
Suddenly, her hand reached out, catching mine. She wasn't asleep.
"Then wag mo subukan maging kung ano ang kailangan ko," she whispered, her eyes opening, reflecting the city lights. "Maging Kira ka lang. Yung Kira na pumasok sa maling pinto. Yung Kira na amoy sandalwood at lungkot. 'Yun lang, sapat na."
I felt a lump form in my throat—a physical pain I hadn't felt since I was a child. I leaned down, resting my forehead against hers.
"They'll try to tear us apart, you know. The airline. Your new fans. My ex. And now... there are rumors about your family. People who have a lot to lose if you exist."
"Let them try," she said, her voice unexpectedly strong. She sat up, her silk robe slipping slightly, but she didn't care. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me into her warmth. "Diba sabi mo, Captain ka? You fly through storms for a living. Isang bagyo lang 'to, Kira. Lilipas din 'to."
I let out a shuddering breath, finally closing my eyes. For the first time in my life, I wasn't the one in control. And for the first time, I didn't mind.
YOKOMI'S POV:
The Next Morning. 10:00 AM.
The studio was a whirlwind of activity. People were running around with racks of clothes, makeup brushes, and lights.
I was sitting in a chair, having my hair curled, feeling like a doll.
Kira was standing in the corner, leaning against a wall with her arms crossed. She was wearing her uniform again, her "Captain's Mask" firmly in place. She had insisted on coming, claiming she had "paperwork" to do at the nearby airport office.
I knew she was just being my bodyguard.
"Okay, Yokomi! We're ready for the first look!" the creative director shouted.
They dressed me in a stunning, deep blue silk gown—the color of the Philippine Airlines logo. It had a long train and a high slit. I felt like a queen, but I also felt like I couldn't breathe.
"You look beautiful," a voice said beside me.
I turned. It was Kira. She was looking at me, and for a split second, the mask slipped. Her eyes were full of pride. And something else. Hunger.
"Nakakahinga pa ba ako?" I joked, patting the tight corset.
She leaned in, her scent of sandalwood hitting me like a wave. "Just remember what we practiced. Look at the camera like you're looking at the horizon. Steady. Unstoppable."
The shoot began. Every time the flash went off, I thought of Kira. I thought of the way she held the side-stick of the plane. I thought of the way she held me in the car.
The photographer was ecstatic. "Yes! That's it! The Pilot's Muse! This is going to be the biggest campaign in PAL history!"
But in the middle of the excitement, the studio doors swung open.
A group of men in suits walked in, led by a man I didn't recognize—but Kira did. I saw her whole body go rigid.
"Captain Lawson," the man said, ignoring me completely. "Chairman Tanaka wishes to see the girl. Now."
Kira stepped in front of me, her hand resting on the hilt of her belt—a defensive posture.
"She's in the middle of a contractually obligated shoot, General. The Chairman can wait."
"The Chairman does not wait for models, Captain," the General said, his voice like iron.
"And he certainly does not wait for his own flesh and blood."
The whole studio went silent. I felt the world tilt. Flesh and blood? Ako?
I looked at Kira. She looked back at me, her face pale. This was the mystery we weren't ready for.
"Yokomi," Kira whispered, her voice full of a sudden, deep dread. "Stay behind me."
Third Person POV
The tension in the room was a physical weight. The General made a signal, and two of his men stepped forward to grab Yokomi.
Kira didn't hesitate. She didn't have a weapon, but she had the training of a woman who had lived her life in a man's world.
As the first guard reached for Yokomi's arm, Kira stepped in with a lightning-fast strike to his throat, followed by a sweep of his legs. He went down with a grunt. The second guard lunged, but Kira used the momentum of his own weight, grabbing his arm and throwing him over her shoulder into a rack of expensive gowns.
"Yokomi, run!" Kira shouted.
They bolted for the back exit of the studio.
"After them! Do not hurt the girl, but neutralize the pilot!" the General commanded.
The chase moved through the narrow hallways of the BGC studio complex. Kira grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall, pulling the pin and spraying a thick cloud of white foam behind them, blinding the pursuing guards.
They reached the service elevator. Kira frantically hit the 'Down' button.
"Kira, bakit tayo tumatakas?! Sabi niya lolo ko siya!" Yokomi cried, her blue gown trailing behind her like a tattered flag.
"If he wanted a family reunion, he wouldn't have sent soldiers!" Kira replied, her eyes scanning for an exit. "Chairman Tanaka is a man who deletes things he can't control. And right now, he can't control you."
The elevator doors opened at the basement parking. Kira's car was right there. They jumped in, the engine screaming as Kira floored it, narrowly dodging a black sedan that tried to block the exit.
As they sped onto the main road, Kira's phone rang. It was an unlisted number. She put it on speaker.
"You're good, Captain," the Chairman's voice echoed through the car. "But you can't fly forever. You have a flight scheduled for tomorrow to Davao. If you don't bring my granddaughter to my office by then... you'll find that the sky is a very lonely place to die."
The line went dead.
Yokomi looked at Kira, her eyes filling with tears. "Kira... baka dapat sumama na lang ako. Baka mapahamak ka pa."
Kira reached over, grabbing Yokomi's hand and squeezing it so hard her knuckles turned white.
"I told you once, Yokomi. I won't have your blood on my hands. And I won't have your heart broken by a man who thinks he owns the world. We're going to Davao. But we're not going for the Chairman. We're going to find the truth."
Later that evening, hidden in a small motel on the outskirts of the city—a place where no one would look for a Captain and a Supermodel—Yokomi sat on the edge of the bed. She was holding the small, old locket she had brought from the province.
She opened it. Inside was a blurry photo of a woman who looked exactly like her.
"Si Nanay ba 'to?" she whispered, a tear falling onto the gold casing. "Bakit nila ako iniwan? Bakit ngayon lang sila naghahanap?"
Kira sat beside her, her masculine exterior finally crumbling. She wrapped her arms around Yokomi, pulling her into her lap.
"Sometimes, the people who should love us the most are the ones who are the most afraid, Yokomi. Your mother probably ran away to save you."
"Parang ikaw?" Yokomi looked up, her eyes searching Kira's. "Tatakbo ka rin ba para iligtas ako?"
Kira's heart broke. She leaned down, kissing Yokomi's forehead, then her nose, then her lips—a slow, heartbreakingly tender kiss that tasted of salt and promises.
"I'm done running," Kira whispered against her lips. "From now on, we fly together. Even if we crash."
In that cheap motel room, with the sound of the highway outside and the threat of a billionaire and an obsessed ex-boyfriend hanging over them, they found their own sanctuary. It wasn't neat. It wasn't professional. But it was theirs.
The pilot and the muse. The stone-cold heart and the provincial sunshine.
The flight was just beginning.