The airport terminal in Haneda buzzed with the muted rhythm of rolling luggage and quiet conversations. Adrian Rivera stepped through the arrival gate with a calm, almost unreadable expression. He wore a tailored black coat and carried a single sleek duffel bag. Cameras flashed at a distance, though most of the airport staff paid little attention.
Waiting at the gate stood the Japanese woman who had met him a month prior—Ayaka Mori, the cultural liaison for the Sakura Film International. She greeted him with a respectful bow, her usual poised demeanor unchanged.
"Welcome to Tokyo, Mr. Rivera. Everything is arranged," she said.
Adrian smiled politely. "Thank you. It's my first time here."
He glanced around, taking in the sights. It wasn't a vacation. This time, he wasn't a tourist. He was here as a director.
As they walked through the terminal, Ayaka briefed him on the schedule.
"There will be an industry dinner tonight with several international directors. Tomorrow is the screening of *Voicemail*. Afterwards, the awards ceremony."
Adrian nodded silently. He was ready. Or at least, he had convinced himself to be.
---
Back in the Philippines, *City of Stars* was on temporary break. The team was scattered across the city: some taking the opportunity to rest, others visiting family. Gabbi was spending time training in vocals, Kai was organizing backup footage, and Jom—along with Ella—was glued to his phone, fuming.
"Do you see this crap?" Jom snapped, tossing his phone on the couch.
Kai picked it up and read aloud, "'A young director should know better than to abandon a film mid-production to chase foreign awards. That's not leadership—that's vanity.'"
Ella crossed her arms. "Who even is this guy?"
"Gregorio Mendez. That dude who made *Lupang Nasaan Ka*. One of the old guards," Kai replied.
"He thinks he knows everything," Jom growled. "If Adrian hadn't gone to Japan, they'd be whining that he wasn't making an international name for us."
The three of them sat in frustrated silence.
"At least we're still moving," Ella said eventually. "I'm using this break to polish the music Adrian assigned me. He's got a vision for the emotional high points of the movie—and I want it to hit as hard as the visuals."
Kai nodded. "You're refining the heart of the film. Adrian trusts you for a reason."
Ella gave a small smile. "I'm not letting him down."
---
In Tokyo, Adrian sat in the back of a black sedan as they drove through the city. Buildings rose like waves around him, lights blinking with a quiet rhythm. Outside the car, the posters for the Sakura Film International were everywhere.
He stepped out in front of the Imperial Hotel where the welcome dinner was hosted. The banquet hall was extravagant, lined with artists from across Asia. Murmurs filled the air as eyes turned toward the youngest guest.
A silver-haired man approached, his tailored white suit almost glowing.
"You must be Adrian Rivera," the man said in accented English. "Your film was quite... stirring. I am Takeshi Nakamoto."
Adrian bowed lightly. "It's an honor, sir."
"An honor that will grow heavy," Takeshi said. "Success too early... It draws teeth."
Adrian tilted his head. "Let them bite."
A smile flickered across Takeshi's face. "Well said."
---
The next day, Adrian stood in the dark of the Sakura screening hall. *Voicemail* began, its opening scenes projected across a massive screen. Though he had watched the film countless times, this felt different. The audience was international, the subtitles carefully timed.
He watched not the screen, but the crowd. Their gasps, their silences, their tears.
When the lights returned, the applause was thunderous. Adrian stood slowly, giving a modest bow. A few in the crowd stood with him.
In the hallway outside, reporters swarmed.
"Mr. Rivera! What inspired *Voicemail*?"
"Do you believe you represent a new generation of Filipino filmmakers?"
"What is next after this?"
Adrian answered calmly, measured.
"I wanted to explore grief and connection. I don't represent a generation—I represent a story. As for what's next, you'll see it soon."
Later, Ayaka handed him a sealed envelope.
"The award results will be presented during tonight's gala," she said.
He held the envelope, unopened. He didn't need to read it. Not yet.
---
Back in Manila, Gabbi checked her phone obsessively, scrolling through the #VoicemailTokyo tag. Jom and Kai joined her in the condo's living room.
"It's crazy," Gabbi muttered. "People outside the country... they really connected with it."
Kai nodded. "He made something that crosses borders. That's rare."
Jom slapped the back of his phone. "I just want to see those old critics eat their words."
---
That night, the award ceremony was held in a grand hall filled with the finest suits, gowns, and translated whispers. The Sakura Film International was known for honoring bold artistry over pedigree.
Adrian sat with Ayaka at the front. Takeshi Nakamoto was three seats over.
The host stepped on stage, holding a silver-engraved envelope.
"And the award for **Best Debut Director** goes to... Adrian Rivera, for *Voicemail*."
Applause exploded.
Adrian stood slowly, exhaling sharply. He made his way to the stage and accepted the slender glass trophy.
"This film came from a place of grief and hope. Thank you for believing in a story told in a voice that's still learning. I dedicate this to my team back home—Jom, Kai, Ella, Gabbi—and to the stars we lost, and the stories they left behind."
As he stepped down, Takeshi offered a small nod of approval.
But behind the stage, Ayaka approached again.
"There is something else," she said. "Another film group wishes to meet you. They believe *Voicemail* shows potential. Not just for awards, but for future collaboration."
Adrian looked down at the trophy. Then back at her.
"Set it up," he said. "But first... I need to finish what I started back home."
Outside, under the cold Tokyo night, Adrian looked up. The stars here were hidden by city lights, but he could still feel them.
One step closer. And many more to go.(End chapter)