COLD HEART in TOKYO: Chapter 13

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After helping the ground-floor shop survive the brutal pre-Christmas rush, the salesperson Tani collapsed with a fever the moment the 25th had passed. He’d been working straight through the week before Christmas without a break, so the fatigue had clearly caught up to him.

While Kusuda wanted Tani to rest properly, the shop couldn’t just close, so Kusuda stepped in to cover. He brought his laptop, thinking he could get some work done in the downtime—but it turned out that with the New Year holidays approaching and many people off work, there was a steady stream of customers all day long. He didn’t get a single free moment.

After six o’clock, Kusuda closed up the shop an hour early and headed upstairs to the office. When he arrived, he found a large cardboard box sitting on the table in the reception area.

“A package arrived for you, Kusuda-san,” Miyamoto informed him without pausing her typing.

The sender was listed as Akizawa’s agency. There hadn’t been any heads-up about a delivery. Frowning slightly, Kusuda opened the box and found it packed tight with DVDs—easily over two hundred. A note was tucked on top, reading: “These are productions Akizawa has appeared in. Please keep them for reference.”

“Whoa, that’s a lot! What’s all this?”

Miyamoto had somehow appeared next to him, clearly curious about the contents of the box.

“I mentioned I wanted to watch some of Akizawa-san’s old dramas, so I guess they sent over the ones he was in,” Kusuda explained.

He pulled out a random DVD. Each disc had the broadcaster, year, and title printed on it. Ever since witnessing what Akizawa called his “serious acting” at the studio, Kusuda had been eager to watch more of his past performances. While he’d been able to find some of the movies Akizawa had done on DVD or for rent, older dramas were often out of print or simply unavailable.

Just two days ago, Kusuda had stopped by Miyako Entertainment to deliver the finished spring/summer promotional materials. Numata had happened to be there, and in the course of their conversation Kusuda casually mentioned, “I’ve been trying to hunt down some of Akizawa-san’s earlier works.”

“You’re researching our Akizawa, huh?” Numata had said, clearly pleased.

“But you know,” Kusuda added, “it’s hard to track down older shows—some of them were never released on DVD, and even rental shops don’t have them anymore.”

At that, Numata had offered, “We still have those in our archives. Would you like me to send them over?”

Kusuda hadn’t meant to fish for a favor, but the offer had made him genuinely happy.

He had a few other stops to make at select shops that day, so instead of taking the DVDs then, he’d said, “I’ll be visiting again soon. Could I borrow them then?” But he hadn’t had the time to follow up. Now, seeing how much effort must have gone into copying so many DVDs, he felt guilty—but also delighted. Now he could watch Akizawa’s acting to his heart’s content.

“You’ve got that pervy old man look—you know, with your nose all stretched out and drooling,” Miyamoto teased.

Kusuda hurriedly wiped his mouth. “Cut it out. That actually hurts.”

Miyamoto sniffed dismissively and peered at him through her glasses with a probing gaze.

“At first, you were kinda keeping your distance, like you found him annoying… and now you’re completely obsessed with Akizawa-san.”

It hit too close to home for Kusuda to come up with a decent reply. He quietly returned the DVD in his hand to the box.

“I told you, didn’t I? I saw him acting on set. If you’d seen that, you’d be just as hooked. It was seriously amazing.”

“That just sounds like fan talk. Doesn’t seem related to work at all.”

Too on the mark for Kusuda to argue.

“You don’t need to watch all those old dramas. The real thing’s been coming to our office on a regular basis,” Miyamoto pointed out.

She wasn’t wrong—on days without shoots, Akizawa showed up at the CRUX office like it was his job.

“I like Kaito Akizawa the actor, the one who’s performing,” Kusuda said.

“Well, I think the one I like is the Akizawa-san sitting next to your desk, carefully scraping away at hard wax every day. That one’s cute,” Miyamoto replied. Then suddenly, she clapped her hands. “Oh right, I just remembered!”

“Remembered what?”

“When we were doing the pop-up at the Osaka department store—Akizawa-san stood at the CRUX sales counter, remember?”

Two weeks ago, Akizawa had randomly followed Kusuda on his business trip to Osaka. The reason was obvious: he wanted to keep talking to Kusuda. Kusuda had assumed that once they arrived at Shin-Osaka, Akizawa would just turn around and head back to Tokyo. Instead, Akizawa said he wanted to check out the CRUX pop-up at the department store.

It seemed silly to make him do a turnaround trip when he’d come all that way, and Kusuda figured that having the upcoming season’s image model appear casually might leave a good impression on the department store’s manager. So he brought him along.

Then Akizawa had seen the shop before it opened and said, “I want to try selling.”

Kusuda had flat-out refused. “Even if you’re the image model, that’s a terrible idea.”

“No matter how many times he said ‘No,’ Akizawa wouldn’t back down. He was stubborn to the core.

“If someone finds out a celebrity’s working the counter, it’ll cause a scene.”

“I’m not even famous! No one’s recognized me as ‘Kaito Akizawa-san’ in years! You think so too, right?” he said, turning to Tani, the shop staffer, who looked like he might burst into tears.

Just then, the department store manager happened to walk by. Kusuda seized the chance and said, “Our image model wants to help out on the floor—surely that’d be a problem, right?” expecting to be shut down.

Instead, the manager casually said, “If he wants to help and it doesn’t disrupt the shop, I don’t see a problem.”

Akizawa lit up. “See? He said it’s fine!”

“Then call Numata-san. I’m not taking any responsibility beyond this,” Kusuda said, going for his last resort. He figured that would be the end of it—but Akizawa actually called Numata.

“He’s off today anyway, and if he wants to help the brand he’s modeling for, I don’t see any issue. As long as it doesn’t cause trouble in the store, please feel free to let him assist.”

With the final fortress fallen, Kusuda had no choice but to accept defeat.

Akizawa received a crash course in the products from Tani, then stood at the counter grinning like a kid on his birthday. Kusuda, meanwhile, spent the whole time with a pit in his stomach. He didn’t believe for a second that someone as self-centered and inconsiderate as Akizawa could manage decent customer service. He kept bracing for a fight to break out with a customer. But surprisingly, the day ended without any major incidents.

Since Kusuda was also helping with sales, he couldn’t keep an eye on Akizawa the whole time. Afterward, Tani gave his impression: “He was super casual with the customers—used way too much informal speech—but it kind of worked. It felt like chatting with a friend. He actually made a few sales, so he wasn’t totally useless.”

As soon as the store closed for the day, Kusuda and Akizawa headed for Shin-Osaka Station. They bought two bento meals and just managed to hop on the second-to-last shinkansen.

The train ride was peaceful… until they finished eating. Then Akizawa, energized by food, began going off in vivid detail about every customer he’d helped, using that annoyingly sharp memory of his. Kusuda, running on sleep deprivation and exhausted from standing all day, tried to keep up with a few polite “uh-huhs,” but by the time they neared Nagoya, he couldn’t hold out and passed out.

When he awoke to the noise of passengers disembarking, he realized that he and Akizawa had both fallen asleep, leaning into each other like a pair of dominoes. He’d meant to get off at Shinagawa, but now, staring out the window, he saw the large sign that read TOKYO.

"There's a blog post from a customer who got helped by Akizawa-san in Osaka."

The moment Miyamoto said “Akizawa's customer service,” Kusuda had a bad feeling. Reading the expression on his face, Miyamoto quickly added, “They actually said nice things.”

She opened the blog on Kusuda's computer. The customer, a longtime die-hard CRUX fan, had even posted about Masamitsu's designs before. Kusuda had read their blog in the past.

At first, the blogger thought Akizawa was just a handsome store clerk with a rough way of speaking. But as they chatted, they were overwhelmed by how passionate he was about CRUX’s accessories. They’d just meant to browse but ended up buying a ring. And later that night, back home, they realized that clerk had been none other than Kaito Akizawa, the actor who was going to be CRUX's image model next season.

The post was a full-on rave. Akizawa wasn’t some soulless model just doing a job—he clearly had knowledge, affection for the brand, and even chose to work the floor anonymously to support CRUX from the shadows. The blogger was deeply moved by his sincerity.

“This blog gets a lot of traffic too, so it’s great publicity,” Miyamoto said.

It was such a positive write-up that Kusuda decided to send the link to Numata along with a thank-you message for the DVDs. Less than five minutes later, Numata replied. Apparently, their agency had already gotten two inquiries from people asking if Akizawa was really working sales at CRUX. He ended his message by saying he was thrilled to see public interest in Akizawa growing.

After wrapping up a half-hour of paperwork delayed from being on shop duty, Kusuda shut down his laptop. He walked over to the cardboard box he’d moved to the corner of the office and picked out five DVDs, slipping them into his work bag.

“I’m heading out—Miyamoto-san, are you leaving too?”

She raised her right hand without getting up from her seat. “I’ve got some accounting stuff I want to finish up. Plus, I’m taking tomorrow morning off. Oh, by the way, Akizawa-san didn’t come in yesterday or today. I guess filming’s keeping him busy?”

“...He said he didn’t want to come in because he couldn’t shake the role yet.”

At that, Miyamoto leaned forward and giggled. “Akizawa-san’s really a character. When he was totally possessed by that last role, he was hilarious.”

Two days after their Osaka trip, Akizawa had dropped by the office after wrapping up some studio work. Kusuda had already explained to both Masamitsu and Miyamoto about Akizawa's tendency to get “stuck” in character, but seeing him fully immersed as Ito Ryota, the cheerful college student, had Miyamoto cracking up and calling him a “discount wholesome boy.” Akizawa had laughed along at the time, but when he came back to himself later, he’d grumbled, “I really shouldn’t go to the office when I’m still stuck in a role.”

“If you end up staying late, be careful on your way back,” Kusuda said as he left the office.

Even on the train, he couldn’t resist unzipping his bag and pulling out a DVD. The title was Kazahana no Machi, a show from when Akizawa had been twelve years old. Kusuda had desperately wanted to see it, but it had proved impossible to find in stores or online.

He didn’t need Miyamoto to tell him—he was definitely hooked on Kaito Akizawa. Not necessarily the man himself, but the actor. Onscreen, Akizawa had a magnetic pull that wouldn’t let you look away.

When he arrived at his apartment’s station, Kusuda sent Akizawa a quick message: “If you're hungry, I can pick something up on the way home.” Filming should’ve been over by now, but there was no reply even after a bit of waiting. Either he was asleep or still in the middle of work. Kusuda decided to just buy one bento and head home.

At the door, Akizawa's shoes were neatly lined up. Kusuda peeked into the bedroom—sure enough, the blankets were piled high in a very human-shaped mound. So it was the sleeping pattern this time.

Whenever Akizawa became, as Miyamoto put it, “possessed” by a role, he started showing up at Kusuda’s apartment on filming days without fail. Even though it would’ve been safer to just hole up at his own place until the role passed, he insisted on coming. He seemed genuinely afraid of doing something reckless while still under the role’s influence.

Being woken by banging on the door or nonstop calls in the middle of the night or at dawn became unbearable, so Kusuda gave him a spare key to the apartment and left a blanket out on the sofa at all times. Since then, Akizawa had started treating the place like a second home.

He’d started off sleeping on the sofa, but when Kusuda wasn’t there, he’d help himself to the bed. And lately, even when Kusuda was home, Akizawa had no qualms about slipping into the bed beside him. A semi-double bed with two grown men was beyond cramped, but Kusuda didn’t want to encourage the squatter further by buying a spare futon, nor did it feel right to vacate his own bed. So he just endured it. Eventually, he got used to the absurd reality of sleeping next to another man.

Kusuda returned to the living room and slid a DVD into the deck.

As he opened his bento, an opening song filled with the unmistakable touch of a bygone era started playing. A twelve-year-old Kaito Akizawa appeared on screen. He was still a good-looking guy now, but as a child, his features had held a fragile, translucent beauty—so much so that he looked more striking than the girl next to him. And when his face briefly took on a lonely expression, it stirred Kusuda’s chest, even knowing how this boy would grow up.

The story followed a boy whose parents divorce, leading him to spiral into despair and eventually murder a girl his own age. The drama depicted his repentance and rehabilitation. Kazahana no Machi had been a shocking piece when it aired and became the talk of the town, but Kusuda, who didn’t care for dark storylines, hadn’t watched it at the time. If Akizawa hadn’t starred in it, he probably never would have.

The fragile psyche of a boy, worn thin by parental conflict and abuse from his father, was portrayed with painful nuance. Akizawa’s role was a quiet one, so there were hardly any lines—but he acted through body movement, gaze, and fleeting expressions. Despite being over a decade old, the drama didn’t feel outdated at all. It was incredible.

The door creaked open with a sudden giit, followed by the soft peta, peta of approaching footsteps. A grown man now, all traces of childhood gone, his back slightly hunched, Akizawa wandered in.

“...I’m hungry.”

That familiar sluggish drawl—it was the usual Akizawa. He must have slept off his role as Ito Ryota.

“There’s only ramen. Want some?”

He gave a small nod. Kusuda stepped into the kitchen. Akizawa, still groggy, sat blankly on the sofa and started watching Kazahana no Machi. Kusuda grabbed the remote, hit stop, and switched over to a TV program. Akizawa's head gave a sharp jolt, and he turned to look at Kusuda.

“Why’d you change it?”

“That was a drama you were in, right? I figured if you watched it, you might slip back into the role again.”

Akizawa gave a laugh. “Just watching it’s fine. If I got possessed that easily, I’d be a total basket case.”

That smug tone made Kusuda twitch. You’re the one who said that! You always come here whenever you’re possessed, hog the bed, then demand food like it’s a given. I’m not your damn mom, you know. He wanted to shout it once—just once—but restrained himself. Saying it wouldn’t make Akizawa reflect or change anyway.

Without asking, Akizawa resumed the drama. Kusuda, watching the screen from the corner of his eye, made a bowl of ramen. When he set the freshly made bowl in front of him and said, “Here you go,” Akizawa didn’t so much as blink. The way he could completely shut out his surroundings when focused was impressive, at least.

Kusuda resumed eating the rest of his bento.

Only when the first episode ended and the commercials started rolling did Akizawa snap back to reality. Finally noticing the ramen in front of him, he reached for the chopsticks.

"These noodles are kind of soggy," Akizawa said, casually complaining even though someone else had made them for him.

"That’s because you didn’t eat them right away."

"You could’ve called out to me."

"I did call out to you."

Whether he had any self-awareness of the fact that he couldn’t hear anything when he was focused, Akizawa just sulked quietly and began to eat.

"This drama’s protagonist… he’s got it rough," he said, slurping the limp noodles. Even though he had played the role himself in the past, he spoke of it like it was someone else’s business.

"I still remember how awful I felt when I was playing him—abandoned by his parents, killing someone at thirteen..."

Setting the empty cup of ramen down on the table, not a drop of soup left, Akizawa narrowed his eyes and muttered, "Man… I feel really happy right now."

"I used to think I’d rather die than be a brand’s image model, but the CRUX office is really comfortable, and everyone’s nice to me. The accessories are cool, and they suit me. Oh, and guess what—I've been offered a movie role. It’s still in the preliminary stages, but Dad says it's practically a done deal. I’ve always wanted to do film. I kept going to auditions and getting rejected all this time."

This was the first Kusuda had heard of the movie. Numata hadn’t said a word, but maybe he’d tell them when things were finalized.

"I used to be scared of getting into character when I didn’t have any work lined up, but now I know I can come to your place and be okay. Even if I can’t keep going as an actor, I feel like I could get hired as a CRUX employee. It’s the first time I’ve been able to work and still feel so at ease. I mean, I do love acting, but I was always irritated—by things, by people, by everything. Like when I was onstage and thinking, 'Don’t enter yet.' I’d stand there thinking my role was boring, and of course it wasn’t any fun. But I didn’t want to quit, so I just kept going. Now that I’m acting seriously, it’s a blast."

Akizawa pressed his palms together in front of his face like he was praying. It was a sacred and ridiculous sight. Kusuda, glancing sideways at the scene, gave a bland "I see" as his only response.

"Do you really get how I feel?"

Akizawa’s gaze coiled around him, suspicious and probing.

"I don’t know how you feel, Akizawa-san. But the measure of happiness is different for everyone—it’s not something that can be compared. If you feel happy, then that’s good enough."

"That’s all it takes?"

"That’s all it takes."

When Kusuda returned from tossing the empty container, Akizawa had sprawled out on the sofa. He was full and now sleeping again, like some wild animal following its instincts. Kusuda sat down across from him and rewound the Kazahana no Machi DVD, just a little. He’d missed a bit while making the ramen.

On the screen, Akizawa moved. The same stirring sensation Kusuda had felt when watching him live on set came rushing back. That boy on the screen captivated him, quietly thrilling his heart. He finished the second episode in what felt like the blink of an eye, and eagerly stood to swap in the next disc.

“Mmnn…”

A soft groan reminded him that the very child actor he was so entranced by was lying right there across from him. Kusuda gazed at the sleeping man. It felt strange to realize that this man’s past was now moving him so deeply. He admitted it—he was drawn to Kaito Akizawa. But only as an actor. The real Akizawa, for all his breathtaking talent when he was serious, was just a tactless, high-maintenance pain.

...No matter how flawed he was as a person, when it came to acting, he had talent.

Kusuda reached out and brushed back a bit of hair from the sleeping man’s face. Eyes, nose, mouth, body—he had the same organs as Kusuda. And yet somewhere, their paths had diverged. Where did that difference in talent appear? It was a question without an answer, but Kusuda let himself think about it for a little while.

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