COLD HEART in TOKYO: Chapter 14

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On January 10th, just after the New Year’s sales had passed their peak, CRUX unveiled the first poster of its spring/summer collection featuring Akizawa as its image model. Though a sneak peek had already been shared through a magazine, this marked the true public reveal. Since the advertising budget was tight, the posters couldn’t be placed in high-traffic locations like station billboards, but they were boldly featured at CRUX’s shops and select department stores.

Kusuda spent the day visiting a few of those stores to observe customer reactions. Whether for better or worse, it seemed the image of a man crying and wailing drew attention—many passersby stopped to look. Store clerks also commented, “It’s got such a strong impact.”

When Kusuda returned from his rounds, Miyamoto informed him that the poster had appeared on a morning variety show. It had been shown in connection with Tohru’s recent award win for a foreign photography competition, with the CRUX campaign introduced as his “latest work.” Perhaps thanks to that TV exposure, the next day—Saturday—CRUX’s first-floor shop was unusually crowded from the moment it opened. Kusuda, seeing how overwhelmed Tani and the part-time staff were, joined them in the afternoon to help with customer service.

At 7 p.m., the first-floor shop closed, and Kusuda returned upstairs to the second-floor office. They’d been busy, but the products had sold well, and even some reservations for the new line had come in.

While relaxing on the guest sofa, the fax machine whirred and began spitting out paper. It was a restocking order from one of their partner stores. As Kusuda smiled at the promising start, another fax from a different store came through. Sensing a pattern, he opened his laptop—sure enough, an email order had also arrived. It even noted that pre-orders for a new product launching in a month were performing well.

Kusuda shivered—not from cold, but from a surge of energy. Inventory was moving. The spring/summer collection was gaining attention. They were going to sell. The next few months were going to be brutally busy.

He grabbed the order sheets and headed to the third-floor storage room, which doubled as a break room. While the finer manufacturing was handled on the fourth floor, the third floor housed larger machines and inventory shelving. Products with stock available were delivered directly to Tokyo stores the next morning. The faster they pushed them out, the less chance customers would miss out. In retail, timing was everything.

Caught up in the work, he didn’t notice the time until it was past 8 p.m. Despite being in an unheated warehouse in the middle of winter, he was sweating. Holding the inventory to be hand-delivered, he returned to the office and faxed a notice that the items would be delivered the next morning.

On Monday, he needed to speak with Masamitsu about increasing production. Though mass production was possible using molds, CRUX’s standards required finishing by the hands of artisans. Given the current team size, they had production limits—but if there were customers who genuinely wanted the products, Kusuda wanted to get the items into their hands however he could.

He’d done all he could for today. Deciding to head home, he began to pack up, when his phone chimed with a new message. It was from Miyamoto: “After the commercial break, Akizawa-san is going to appear on TV.”

Kusuda rushed to the guest area, turned on the television, and tuned into Saturday Bang, a variety show. As he waited for Akizawa’s segment to start, there was a knock at the office door. At this timing? he thought as he went to open it.

Standing there was a slender man in a black coat. With his face tucked into a green scarf, he gave a small bow and murmured, “Good evening.”

"Fujishima-san? What brings you here?"

Keishi Fujishima gave a small bow, looking apologetic.

"You're still working, I take it?"

"I was just about to head out. Please, come in."

Fujishima murmured, “Sorry to bother you,” and stepped into the office timidly. Despite it being Saturday, he wore a grey suit beneath his black coat.

"You were working today too?"

"I was supposed to be off, but… well, there was just too much that didn’t get done."

He gave a sheepish smile, and Kusuda noted how tired he looked.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm just not the fastest when it comes to work."

No matter how slow someone was, staying this late on a weekend was brutal. Maybe he was being overloaded. Fujishima worked for a paper manufacturing company—not one CRUX had dealings with, but Kusuda had heard that mid-sized companies in that industry were all having a hard time.

Fujishima pulled a USB stick from his bag pocket and handed it to Kusuda.

"This morning, Tohru emailed me and asked me to give this to you. He said it’s for a video using the model photos on your homepage?"

"Ah, right."

"It was apparently finished a while ago, but with him suddenly having to go overseas, he forgot to hand it over in all the rush."

Last month, Kusuda had spoken with Tohru about how still images like posters and novelties were great, but maybe incorporating motion would be interesting. They’d talked about stitching the rapid-fire photos together into a stop-motion-style clip featuring Akizawa on the homepage. Tohru had said he’d work on it when he had time, so Kusuda had left it up to him. Since then, there had been no word.

Kusuda had wanted to relaunch the homepage by January 10th, the day of the poster reveal, but it was a favor being done for free—and pushing a busy person for faster delivery felt wrong. He hadn't dared to ask what was going on.

"Thank you for going out of your way. Do you know where Tohru is right now?"

"Los Angeles. He’s attending the Joanie Awards since he ended up winning."

Right—Miyamoto had mentioned something the other day about Tohru winning a foreign photography award. Kusuda wasn’t deeply versed in the photography world, but even he had heard the name Joanie before.

From the TV behind them came a voice:

“Akizawa-san is hilarious, you know—he runs into pillars and stuff. It’s like a manga character.”

Kusuda spun around at the sudden mention. Laughter erupted from the show as the screen cut to a close-up of Akizawa. Even on television, his face held its own—clean, striking. He wore a sheepish frown, but glinting on his chest was the CRUX signature necklace Masamitsu had gifted him.

“Akizawa-kun has incredible focus, though.”

Souishi jumped in to cover for Akizawa. Out of context, it would’ve seemed like a friendly defense—but to Kusuda, still carrying the memory of being mocked at the studio, Souishi’s support felt calculated.

“Akizawa-san’s a bit of a nerd, huh?”

One of the comedians poked fun at him.

“Bet he spends his days off reading manga or something.” said his partner.

A young actress gave an awkward smile and glanced sidelong at Akizawa.

“I don’t really read manga. If I have free time, I make accessories, or…”

Akizawa muttered, voice trailing off. The comedian widened his eyes in mock surprise and spread his arms.

“Wait, don’t tell me you made that necklace yourself?”

The screen zoomed in on Akizawa’s chest again. He pinched the necklace between his fingers.

“This one’s my favorite. It’s from a brand called CRUX. The designer, Masamitsu-san, teaches me a lot. Right now, I’m working on making a ring.”

“Whoa, that’s legit. Pretty impressive.”

The topic shifted after that. For about three more minutes, the spotlight returned to Souishi before the whole cast transitioned off screen for a commercial break.

Akizawa’s screentime had been brief—but the product was shown in close-up twice, and he mentioned the brand name on-air. He couldn’t have done better if he were a paid ambassador. An absolutely perfect poster boy.

“Akizawa-san was on just now, wasn’t he?”

Fujishima’s quiet remark snapped Kusuda back to the fact that he had a guest.

“Sorry—I got caught up watching. He’s our image model, so I couldn’t help it… Do you know Akizawa?”

“I’ve heard about him from Tohru.”

…A bad feeling crept in.

“Did he happen to say things like, Akizawa’s violent or has a nasty personality?”

Fujishima gave a vague smile that felt more like a dodge than a denial. The look all but confirmed it—Tohru must’ve griped a fair bit. Kusuda could already imagine Fujishima quietly nodding along while Tohru vented, and it made him feel a little guilty.

“I remember seeing Akizawa-san in a drama back when he was a child actor. He was incredibly good—even now, that impression has stuck with me.”

The word "remember" triggered another memory for Kusuda. When he had first met Tohru, Tohru had been in a car accident and lost all of his memories. With no recollection of his past, he had developed an interest in sweets, enrolled in a pastry school, and later worked as a skilled pâtissier. He had even been preparing to go to France to hone his craft further, with his partner Fujishima by his side.

But just before the trip, Tohru’s memories came back. And when they did, all of his pâtissier life disappeared—he no longer remembered any of it.

With his regained memories came a return to his original dream: becoming a photographer. The Tohru who had made cakes had been bright and sunny, while the one who returned to photography felt like the moon—brooding, shadowed. It was like watching two people who looked the same but had completely opposite personalities.

After his memories returned, Tohru had gone through a rough patch. He’d seemed like a dog abandoned by its owner—distrustful of people, wounded. Kusuda had wanted to say it so many times: “You looked happier when you were baking cakes. Why not try again?” It had been on the tip of his tongue more than once. But he’d swallowed the urge. It wasn’t his place to meddle in Tohru’s life. The path Tohru chose had to be his own.

The truth was, Kusuda had been close with the “sunlit” Tohru—the one who’d disappeared. And to say he hadn’t been intimidated by the stormy “shadow” Tohru would have been a lie. But even so, he had never considered ending their friendship. At the core, he believed both versions of Tohru were the same: serious, emotionally sincere. Even now, though Tohru could be curt and standoffish, Kusuda knew he still craved connection—he just didn’t know how to show it anymore. He never said it out loud, of course.

Everything that had happened—the accident, the changes—Tohru had somehow weathered it all and was now making a living through the lens of a camera. Winning an international award meant he was gaining global recognition. Whether as a pâtissier or a photographer, he had the talent. That much was certain.

By the time Kusuda looked back at the TV, the variety show had already reached its ending credits. Fujishima quietly stood and bowed.

“Well, I should be going.”

“Fujishima-san, did you have dinner yet?”

After a slight pause, he shook his head. “No.”

“If you’d like… would you want to grab something to eat together?”

Fujishima looked at Kusuda for a long moment, and then, with a gentle smile, nodded. “That sounds nice.”

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