COLD HEART in TOKYO: Chapter 15

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It had felt cold all day, but when Kusuda stepped outside, he saw snow beginning to fall. Fujishima looked exhausted, so Kusuda chose a nearby izakaya, just down from the building, so they wouldn’t have to walk far. He sometimes came here with Masamitsu—it was a cheap but tasty little place, worn around the edges but popular and always bustling. Perhaps because it was late, the usual crowd had thinned, and they were led to a spot in the tatami area.

Kusuda, famished, devoured his food like a man starved, while Fujishima, true to his appearance, picked delicately at tofu, eating little and gracefully like a bird.

Fujishima and Tohru were a couple who lived together. When Tohru had first told Kusuda they were dating, he had nearly spat out his beer in shock, but it wasn’t disgust—just surprise. Even if that was the case, romantic relationships were ultimately someone else’s business. There had been openly gay students at his university, too. Whether to stay friends with someone depended on personality, not sexual orientation.

Kusuda had known Fujishima for years now, but all he really knew was that he worked at a paper company and was Tohru’s older boyfriend. Still, he’d always figured the man came from a well-off family. He had good posture, dressed with understated taste, and carried that particular air of composure often found in people who’d never been rushed by life.

Even though they were partners, Fujishima and Tohru were nothing alike. If Tohru was fire, then Fujishima was water—calm, intangible. Maybe their very differences were what drew them together: each seeking something they themselves lacked.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had dinner just the two of us like this,” Fujishima said, sipping slowly at his sake, apparently not averse to drinking.

“Maybe since that photoshoot, a few years ago?” Kusuda said.

“Ah, that sounds right.”

That had been the poster shoot that really got CRUX noticed as a brand. Thinking back, Kusuda still couldn’t believe Fujishima had agreed to model—nude, even if his face wasn’t shown.

“Thanks again, by the way,” Kusuda said.

Fujishima flushed and smiled. “That was a long time ago. Let’s not dwell on it.”

Then, as if to change the topic, perhaps embarrassed, Fujishima added, “I saw some of the photos Tohru took of Akizawa-san.”

His tone turned thoughtful.

“He’s got a real presence. You just can’t take your eyes off him. When I heard you’d chosen him, I thought—you’ve got good instincts.”

Embarrassed by the praise, Kusuda drained his beer in one gulp.

“Honestly, it was more like a string of coincidences. The shoot was awful, really. Akizawa was hungover and just lashing out. The only reason the poster and novelties turned out well is because of Tohru.”

Fujishima smiled wryly. “I heard that it was Tohru who provoked him during the shoot, which is why Akizawa lashed out. Someone from his office told me. Tohru tends to say things too bluntly sometimes, so I’ve been worried he might’ve said something inappropriate to you too…”

Kusuda laughed, slapping his knee.

“He’s the type who barely talks, but when he does open his mouth, it’s always to drop some kind of bomb. That’s just Tohru for you. But I’m seriously grateful to him. He gave us the friends-and-family discount, and thanks to his name, we got attention.”

“If he does something wrong, I hope you’ll tell him straight. If it’s coming from you, Tohru will actually listen.”

Fujishima’s concern was so maternal that it made Kusuda want to laugh, though he kept that to himself. As they continued their gentle back-and-forth, Kusuda realized something: this man was genuinely easy to be around. He listened carefully, responded with thought and clarity, and had a calm intelligence about him. Unlike Masamitsu or Tohru, who often spoke from instinct, Fujishima was grounded—measured.

Then Kusuda noticed him glance at his watch.

It had been about an hour since they entered the izakaya. Maybe Fujishima was ready to leave. There was still food on the table, and honestly, Kusuda wasn’t quite done talking. He wanted to spend just a little more time with him…

"Shall we head back?" Kusuda asked, thinking he’d read the situation.

But the older man looked faintly disappointed.

"Yeah. You must be tired too, Kusuda-kun."

No, that wasn’t it. Kusuda decided to be honest. "You looked like you were checking the time."

"Ah, sorry," Fujishima murmured, brushing his fingertip across the glass face of his watch. "It’s Tohru’s award ceremony today… It should be early morning over there right now."

His cheeks relaxed with a quiet smile—genuinely happy for his partner’s success.

"Tohru’s really incredible, isn’t he?" Kusuda said.

Fujishima lifted his head.

"Even back when he was a pâtissier, he was doing pretty well. And then when he started photography, he got famous, even won awards. When I see that kind of thing…"

Fujishima’s eyes, always so gentle, narrowed as if trying to read Kusuda’s true intent. That level of recognition, that kind of extraordinary skill—how did a man like Fujishima, standing beside someone who possessed that, feel?

"Tohru is amazing," Fujishima said simply, his voice small but clear, carrying no trace of envy.

What had Kusuda been trying to hear from him? Did he want Fujishima—someone on the same side of the fence as himself, lacking any ‘special talent’—to say something bitter? That it was hard being with someone so gifted? That he resented it?

"I'm not well-versed in the arts, so I don’t really understand what makes Tohru’s photos so great," Fujishima continued. "But they're beautiful, lonely... I can't take my eyes off them. I guess I interpret that as talent."

More than the awards… Fujishima went on.

"I just hope Tohru can keep doing the photography he loves, for as long as possible."

Something dropped—click—into place inside Kusuda. For Fujishima, Tohru wasn’t a point of comparison. Earlier, Kusuda had felt Fujishima was like a mother watching over her child. And now it all made sense. A mother might wish for her child’s happiness and success—but she wouldn’t envy it.

"You’re right," Kusuda murmured, though his fingertips trembled slightly.

"There really are a lot of talented people out there, in every field. In my own circle, there's Tohru of course, and my brother Masamitsu is kind of a big name in a niche market. And Akizawa—his personality's awful, but his acting is something else. But you know, these people with one great skill? They're all kinda… weird. Akizawa’s the perfect example. It takes so much effort to cover for him sometimes."

That green-tinged envy, that stupid inferiority complex. He’d never aimed for anything, never worked hard, and yet here he was whining about results he didn’t earn. He wanted to laugh at himself but couldn’t. His cheek twitched instead.

"Supporting people like them… I guess that’s my job, huh."

The muttered words, too small for Fujishima to catch, melted into the bitterness rising from within himself.

"I don’t really get the whole talent thing," Fujishima said softly, "and maybe this is strange to say, but if someone asked Tohru, ‘talent or Kusuda-kun?’—I think he’d choose you."

Kusuda laughed it off. "No way."

"I really believe that. People can’t live on talent alone. And friends aren’t something you can replace. I think Tohru understands that better than anyone."

The words hit hard, and Kusuda ducked his head in embarrassment. He’d been spoiled by Tohru—getting the friends-and-family discount, asking favors, being treated like someone special… And now here he was, getting mopey over nothing.

"Sorry…" he said, the apology coming out honestly.

"When he gets back, tell him I said I’ll treat him to meat or something," Kusuda added, lifting his face.

"To thank him for the video files on that USB."

Fujishima chuckled. "I'm sure he’d say it was nothing. Honestly, I think he had fun editing it."

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