Flying

The sleek, black car didn’t just drive onto the tarmac, it was absorbed by it. Gliding past towering commercial airliners to a secluded hangar where Takumi’s private jet waited. It was a needle of polished obsidian and chrome, looking less like an aircraft and more like a shard of the night sky given purpose.

Cillian walked a pace behind Rei, carrying her luggage, his silence a heavier burden than the bags. He followed her up the retractable stairs into the jet’s cabin. The interior was awash with minimalist luxury: marine carpets, seats upholstered in buttery cream leather and warm, ambient lighting. Takumi was already there, ensconced in a central seat, his back to them, clad in a dark green suit. A portable holographic device glowed before him, intricate data graphs and financial streams weaving in the air like constellations of information. He didn’t look up.

Rei settled into a plush seat directly in front of him, facing the cockpit. Cillian stowed her luggage with efficient movements and then retreated to a seat at the far end of the cabin, a respectful, deliberate distance that felt like a chasm. He picked up a data slate, his posture rigid, a brooding sentinel in the periphery.

Rei didn’t dare disturb Takumi. She simply watched his concentrated expression, his perfectly groomed hair, her hands folded in her lap. She felt the low, powerful thrum of the jet’s engines through the frame. A moment later, an elegant androgynous cyborg attendant with luminous joints moved through the cabin with preternatural grace, presenting flutes of bubbling liquid on a polished tray. Rei took one, the glass cool in her hand.

Only then, as the jet began its impossibly smooth taxi, did Takumi minimize his holographic display. He turned his head slightly, his steely eyes finding hers. “The Helix Apex deal is critical,” he began without preamble, his voice cutting cleanly through the quiet hum, “Their Biococa capture technology is generations ahead of anything else. It’s the key to making the Eidolon’s simulation indistinguishable from reality. We need it, they know it – and Bjorn Jorgensen is deliberately stalling.”

The jet began to accelerate, a surge of silent power that pressed Rei gently back into her seat. Her eyes widened slightly, her knuckles tightening on the arms of her seat. Out the window, the world began to stream past, a blur of light, concrete and red cliffs. “You are to placate him,” Takumi continued, his gaze unwavering as the nose of the jet lifted, “But you are to do so as my asset, the Muse of Eidolon. Make him seduced by the project, by the potential. I will apply the necessary pressure, while you soften the resistance.”

As he finished his briefing, the wheels left the ground. The sensation was not a jolt, but a profound, weightless lift. Rei’s breath caught. The sprawling, neon-scarred grid of Mirage City nestled in the canyon fell away beneath them, shrinking with remarkable speed into an intricate, glowing circuit board before being swallowed by clouds.

Rei was flying for the first time in her life, untethered from the city that had been her entire world. The thrill of it, the sheer, terrifying scale of the sky, mixed with the weight of Takumi’s mission, gave her goosebumps. He was instructing her as his armament, aimed at a man across the world, all while hurtling through the air in a metal bird. She took a small, fortifying sip of the bubbles, the tiny explosions on her tongue a fitting metaphor for the chaos and possibility that now stretched out before her.

The cyborg attendant returned, serving a light dinner of chilled seafood and an artful salad. Takumi barely glanced up from the holographic data streams he had once again projected into the air, a forest of numbers and schematics glowing around him.

“I need to finalize the contract amendments,” he stated, his voice all business, “It’s a ten-hour flight. You should eat and then get some rest. I’ll wake you in time for breakfast and a final briefing.” He finally looked directly at her, a slight, naughty smile gracing his lips for a fleeting second, “There’s bedrooms at the back. Use the master.” As quickly as it appeared, the smile vanished, replaced by the serious mask of the executive, “You’re dismissed, go relax.”

Rei bowed her head slightly, collecting her meal. Instead of retreating to the luxurious isolation of the master bedroom, she carried her tray to the seat opposite Cillian. He tensed visibly as she sat, his shoulders squaring, but he didn’t protest. They ate in a silence thick with everything left unsaid. Rei set her fork down with a sigh.

“Do you really want to continue being this resentful?” she asked, her voice hushed but direct, as her eyes darted subtly back towards Takumi, “You were the one who turned away every time I tried to get close these past months. You beat me at mint poker, ate my food… then left. I enjoyed your company and… but you made it clear you didn’t want to cross that line. Now you treat me like I’ve betrayed you?”

Cillian sighed, a heavy, weary sound. He ran a hand over the back of his neck, his jaw working as he stared at his plate. The silence stretched, and then, unexpectedly, the words came out in a low rush, “I know. I know okay – it isn’t fair.” He finally met her gaze, his eyes full of a frustrated anguish, “I chose to keep my distance. But knowing that doesn’t stop the jealousy from surging. Even if I didn’t… I still wanted you… want you.”

His voice dropped to a near-silent whisper followed by a cautious glance toward Takumi’s absorbed form, “And now? Seeing you come out of Shoma’s place, a man famous for his rotating door of pretty faces, and then seeing you in his kimono… all in the span of hours…”, he shook his head, the defeat palpable, “Now it’s too late. I hesitated too long, and now all I have are memories of a few kisses and a lot of unresolved… everything.”

Rei was blown away by his rapid candor. Then her eyes fell on a small, neat stack of empty miniature whiskey bottles beside his tray. Of course. Cillian always became startlingly direct after a certain amount of whiskey. Glancing nervously over her shoulder, concern for Takumi’s possessiveness made her heart leap. Regardless, she leaned in, her voice a soft, conspiratorial murmur, “I get it Cillian, I do, and I respect your choice. Truly, it’s a complicated… everything… to get involved with me, considering…”, she nudged her head almost imperceptibly in Takumi’s direction. Her tone grew more melancholic, more gentle, “I consider you a friend, and I really don’t want anything bad happening to you. Denying yourself… us… that was probably a wise choice. Even if it’s painful.”

Cillian just looked at her, the anger in his eyes receding, replaced by a conflicted, weary acknowledgement. Rei offered a sheepish, apologetic smile, “I know that’s not exactly helpful. Probably. Honestly, I don’t know exactly what to say. This whole context… what we’ve been pulled into… it’s insane”, she reached out, her fingers brushing the back of his hand on the table, “Still, our drives, our first forced date… the nights we played mint poker and just joked around… those nights, I felt more myself than I have in… I don’t even remember. So… thank you.” It wasn’t an absolution, and it wasn’t a promise, it was just the truth, laid bare in the quiet hum of the jet at 40,000 feet. A small, precious piece of their history, recognized and sealed away. Then the intimate quiet between them shattered.

“Rei”, Takumi’s voice cut across the cabin, cold and absolute, without him even turning his head. It was a voice that saw through walls and heard whispers on the wind, “Go rest. Now.” Rei flinched, snatching her hand back from Cillian’s as if burned. She shot Cillian a wide-eyed, shocked look, her mouth forming a silent, panicked: ‘Crap‘, before quickly schooling her features into deference, turning towards Takumi. “Of course, Takumi-sama. I’ll go right away,” she said, her voice the picture of obedient respect.

As she rose, Cillian caught her eye. The anguish from their conversation was momentarily buried under a flicker of their old camaraderie. He gave her a faint, humorous look of understanding and mouthed, ‘So long, Miss Favorite.‘ She responded with an exaggerated glare, a tiny, genuine smile threatening to break through her feigned annoyance. The banter, however brief, was a lifeline. It still worked.

Rei retreated to the back of the jet, sliding open the door to the master bedroom. It was a compact cocoon of lavishness. The centerpiece was a huge bed made up with impossibly soft Egyptian cotton sheets. The walls and ceiling were upholstered in delicate ruffles, creating a sense of being nestled in a cloud. A small, en-suite bathroom was fitted with a neat shower, mirrored walls and flattering lighting that made it a perfect vanity area.

Neatly unpacking her toiletries, served as a familiar ritual. Then, from her bag, she drew out the delicate black lace negligee she had packed with a flutter of hope. Seeing Takumi so utterly consumed by the Helix situation, she doubted he would even glance her way, but the act of putting it on felt like a private declaration of intent, a claim on the intimacy they had shared just hours before. The lace whispered against her skin as she slipped it on.

Exhausted, she sank into bed. It was even more comfortable than it looked, the feather duvets so light they seemed to float above her, barely a weight at all. Encased in the plush darkness, the hum of the jet a constant lullaby, she closed her eyes. The image of Cillian’s conflicted face and the sound of Takumi’s commanding voice warred in her mind, but the sheer physical fatigue of the day and the surreal novelty of her first flight soon pulled her under, the black lace a secret against her skin in the heart of the jet.