COLD HEART in TOKYO: Chapter 19

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It was just before five in the evening when a complaint call came into the office: a customer claimed the zirconia had fallen out of a ring they’d just purchased. At first, Kusuda thought maybe the final inspection had been lax—but the conversation started to take a strange turn.

The customer insisted the ring was a recent purchase, but it was actually from a lineup released two years ago and had been sold at a select shop in Fukuoka three months earlier, with no further stock movement since. Without placing blame, Kusuda calmly relayed the facts based on their records. Eventually, the customer confessed they hadn’t bought the ring from an official retailer, but from a secondhand store.

There was no warranty card either. With a used item, there was no way to know at what point the defect had occurred. Technically, CRUX had no obligation to provide aftercare—but Kusuda, wanting to show appreciation for someone who had chosen a CRUX product, offered the most generous compromise he could: “If you bring it to a nearby shop, we’ll repair it free of charge.”

Even so, the customer suddenly started demanding a full refund for the purchase.

In the end, it was all about money. Taking advantage of Kusuda’s courteous tone, the caller had clearly grown overconfident and unreasonable. Midway through the call, Kusuda began recording the conversation, capturing the abusive threats like, “Take responsibility!” and “I’ll kill you, bastard!” Once he had enough, he responded calmly: “Since it seems we’re having trouble reaching an agreement, I’d like to continue this discussion with legal counsel present.”

The line was cut off instantly, with a final shout of “Drop dead!”

As Kusuda set the receiver down, Miyamoto, who had been nervously watching the whole time from her desk, called out, “So? What happened?”

“The moment I mentioned a lawyer, they hung up.”

“Worst,” she grimaced. “They knew they were being unreasonable. Just a garbage-tier complainer. Great job handling that.”

Kusuda had remained polite the entire time because he didn’t want CRUX associated with a negative image. He’d even tried to find some middle ground, but it was obvious this wasn’t about the product—it was textbook behavior from someone out to make a quick buck.

Give me back that wasted hour, he thought bitterly.

He’d had work he wanted to finish before the day ended, but the unpleasantness of the phone call had drained all his motivation. Deciding to call it a day, he shut down the office early and headed out.

He didn’t feel like going straight home, so he stopped by a standing bar near the station and ordered a beer. The exterior was stylish enough that the clientele skewed young—worn-out old men probably felt out of place there. While Kusuda sipped his drink, a couple took the spot next to him. They looked young—probably college students, judging by their casual clothes. They huddled close, with the boyfriend wrapping an arm around the girl, playing with her hair. Their PDA wasn’t anything outrageous, but it still made Kusuda feel awkward, as if he were doing something inappropriate just by existing nearby.

“I have to go home and watch the drama today. I forgot to set the recorder.”

Even though he had no desire to hear it, the couple’s conversation beside him drifted over.

“What’s on?”

“Beyond Us.” The one Kou Muneishi starred in. It was getting a lot of buzz, right?”

Kusuda had meant to finish his beer and head home, but he found himself listening in.

“I watched it, and it was really good. That guy playing Muneishi’s best friend—he’s amazing.”

They were talking about Akizawa. Annoying as the couple had seemed, Kusuda couldn’t help feeling pleased to hear their praise for CRUX’s image model.

So much had happened with that drama. Three days after Akizawa had been dropped, the lead actor, Kou Muneishi, injured his eye in an accident on set and was hospitalized. The series had been slated for cancellation, but once Muneishi’s injury made the variety show circuit and his heartfelt letter to the cast and crew was read aloud, the public’s reaction flipped. Floods of calls and emails poured into the network, begging them to keep the drama going, hoping Muneishi would recover in time to return for the finale.

An emergency meeting was held, and the decision was made to continue airing the series through to the final episode. With the lead unavailable, the script had to be rewritten. The original writer for episodes one through five resigned due to creative differences, and a new writer took over for the second half.

To shift focus onto the best friend character, Akizawa was brought back into the cast.

A drama where the star never appeared became a phenomenon. Episode six hit the highest ratings yet, making the news and generating buzz online as people started saying, “Hey, this show’s actually good.” Ratings continued to climb through episodes seven and eight.

The new screenwriter was a rookie, but their nuanced character work brought depth to the series. It had improved significantly as a drama. Though only a few episodes remained, the broadcaster even aired a digest recap of episodes one through five—an unusual move.

Under the new script, Akizawa’s role had grown so much it felt like he was the protagonist. Watching him on screen, alive in his role like a fish returned to water, Kusuda could feel the energy through the screen. The other young actors, too, seemed to rise with him, their performances growing sharper.

“The friend role’s played by Kaito Akizawa, right?” the boyfriend said.

He seemed to know the name. The girlfriend replied vaguely, “Something like that.”

“Akizawa’s been acting since he was a kid, hasn’t he? He’s always been good.”

A message pinged on the smartphone resting on the counter. Kusuda replied immediately, then drained the rest of his beer in one go and left the bar.

He caught a taxi to a hotel in Shinjuku. He’d held meetings in the lobby before but never stayed there. One night could cost tens of thousands of yen.

Crossing the lobby, he took the elevator up to the 18th floor. At room 1805, he pressed the doorbell and waited. No response. He was about to press it again when the door swung open, and there stood Akizawa—wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

He grabbed Kusuda by the arm and yanked him inside.

Before the door had even fully shut, Kusuda was pulled into the wet, dripping embrace of Akizawa’s body. The kiss was ravenous, draining all the strength from him, and his work bag slipped from his hand and hit the floor. He felt his belt being tugged open and quickly protested.

“W–Wait, at least let me shower first.”

Akizawa’s displeased expression felt somehow different from usual. Today had been the final day of filming—he probably hadn’t shaken the role off yet.

Kusuda didn’t know much about the entertainment industry, but didn’t they usually hold wrap parties with cast and crew after finishing a shoot? It was just after 8 p.m., so if Akizawa had attended and come back, it seemed awfully early. Maybe he had stayed in character and decided not to go, making up some excuse to leave early.

Akizawa grabbed his arm and pulled him into the bathroom. The space had a separate shower area and a wide bathtub. It doubled as a powder room, with a spacious sink and a large mirror above it. The whole water area was roughly six tatami mats in size (around 9.7 square meters), and the luxury of it all was a little overwhelming. Kusuda found himself wondering—how successful do you have to be to book a place like this without hesitation?

The tub was full, water glistening on the surrounding floor. So he really was in the bath—that’s why it took him a while to come out, Kusuda thought—right before he was suddenly lifted into the air.

“H-Hey!”

Akizawa carried him straight to the tub and dropped him in with a loud splash. His whole body sank under, even his head. He surfaced in a panic, gasping for air—and then Akizawa dove in after him, sending waves sloshing out over the edge.

As Kusuda’s shoes floated to the surface, Akizawa flung them aside, then grabbed hold of Kusuda’s now-soaked tie and pulled him into a kiss. Their lips met—wet, and burning hot.

“Only high schoolers get excited about stuff like this.”

Kusuda shot him a glare, but Akizawa just laughed and said, “I’m a high schooler forever.”

“There’s no way a high schooler could afford to stay in a place like this.”

In the water, Akizawa began undressing Kusuda’s soaked clothes. He managed to get the coat and jacket off, but the shirt was clinging tightly to his body. Akizawa struggled with the buttons, growing visibly frustrated—his childish pout made him look weirdly endearing.

Soon enough, he threw a tantrum and grabbed the shirt with both hands, tugging at it forcefully, yanking from side to side with clear intent to tear.

“Hey, you’ll rip it.”

Kusuda brushed Akizawa’s hands away from his shirt. He pulled the hem out from his slacks and, deliberately, began undoing the buttons slowly, almost teasingly. Akizawa watched his fingertips with rapt attention.

Once all the buttons were undone, Kusuda pulled the front open wide—and as if he’d been waiting for that exact moment, Akizawa immediately latched onto his nipple.

“Hiahh—”

Slurping sounds echoed as his nipple was sucked. …It felt good.

While still sucking, Akizawa began working to pull off Kusuda’s slacks. The zipper came down, and his underwear was dragged down to his knees. Then he was lifted and turned to face the wall, kept on his knees. A hand slid between his cheeks, fingers brushing over the tight entrance—then one slipped in with a slick ease.

No matter how many times it happened, that initial sense of intrusion never got easier. Kusuda clenched his teeth and endured it. Inside him, the finger began to move—wide, deliberate, and indecent.

“Ahh… d-don’t move it so much. The bathwater’ll get in…”

The finger slipped out, and Kusuda breathed a small sigh of relief—only to glance down and see Akizawa putting on a condom. So he wants to do it here, in the bathroom, Kusuda realized—and just that thought made the spot that had been played with tingle all over again.

He was pulled into a tight embrace. That already-prepared member pressed against his entrance—and with a wave of filthy anticipation, it was driven in all at once with a deep zun.

“Ahh—!”

He was pierced right through the center—it hurt. It hurt, but… he didn’t hate it. It felt good. He could feel himself tightening around that thick length, his insides instinctively contracting to welcome it in.

“Does mine… feel good?”

Still joined deep inside, Akizawa rocked his hips in slow, steady motions, and lewd moans spilled from Kusuda’s lips—“Ah… nn… ahh…”

The sensation of being taken, of being completely dominated, sent him reeling in ecstasy—until his nipple was suddenly pinched hard.

“Hiah… ahh… aaah—”

Toyed with, his moans wouldn’t stop. His nipples, played with so roughly, swelled red like raspberries.

Thrown into the bathtub still wearing his suit, being touched and taken while soaked to the skin—something about this was completely unhinged. This wasn’t Masahiko Kusuda. This wasn’t him.

And yet, even as he told himself that, he let the pleasure take him under, let it melt him down into something soft and helpless.

He’d been devouring the pleasure—until suddenly, with a zubu sound, it was pulled out completely. Akizawa was still hard.

 

“Come here.”

He was pulled by the hand, led out of the bathtub with his soaked suit clinging to him, water dripping as he was taken into the powder room. There, he was made to sit on a marble counter in front of the mirror. The chill of the stone against his lower back sent a shiver through him.

“Hold your legs up. Show me.”

He didn’t need to ask what. He already knew. Kusuda wrapped his arms around his legs and spread himself wide.

Akizawa gazed at him with a look that toyed, teased, devoured—watching him display himself in such a shameless state.

“You’re so dirty, Masahiko.”

The shame of it all only made his spine tingle with twisted excitement.

“Where I was just inside you—show it to me. Spread it with your fingers.”

He’d never done anything like that before. He shook his head.

“Do it,” came the order.

“I’ll help you,” Akizawa added, lifting his scrotum to make room—setting the stage.

“Hurry… okay?”

He couldn’t resist. Hesitantly, Kusuda reached down toward himself. The spot, still slightly warm, twitched at his touch. When he pressed gently around it, it began to open, just a little.

“Put a finger in. Show me deeper inside.”

He swallowed hard—and slid in just one finger. It opened, just a bit.

“…Can… can you see?”

When he looked up and asked in a timid voice, Akizawa lunged at him—slamming in with force. Like a dog in heat, he rutted in sharp, shallow thrusts. Being mounted by such a ridiculous animal, Kusuda’s own voice rang out like a cat in heat, his vulgar posture painted in matching vulgar sounds.

After climaxing once there in the powder room, they moved to the bedroom. They kissed like they were devouring each other, and then—worked up all over again—Akizawa took him from behind, making Kusuda writhe in fierce, helpless spasms. They touched each other everywhere, licked, kissed endlessly…

It wasn’t until nearly eleven at night that things finally calmed down.

It had started in the bathtub. They’d been at it for almost three hours.

Like monkeys in heat.

Akizawa now lay sound asleep, looking thoroughly satisfied. Kusuda, on the other hand, clutched his numb, trembling hips as he stepped into the shower booth. After rinsing off the sweat and semen, he fished his suit and underwear out of the tub. He wrung them out as best he could, stuffed them into the laundry bag, and called the front desk. He half expected to be turned down, but when he asked if they could have everything dried by morning, they agreed.

Not about to answer the door stark naked, he put on the hotel bathrobe before handing off the soggy clothes to the bellboy. His soaked shoes were propped at an angle in the corner of the room. If the clothes dried in time, he could leave the hotel in the morning.

On a weekday night, no less. He’d come running to a hotel on the strength of a single message: “Come now.” Ended up soaked to the bone in a suit, fucking for hours.

What the hell are you doing? he honestly thought to himself.

It wasn’t like he’d been forced. Even if that message came, he could’ve easily said, “I’ve got work tomorrow,” and made some excuse.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t—because somewhere inside, he knew… being with Akizawa like this—having sex with him—Wasn’t something he hated.

“I don’t even know what’s going on anymore…”

Overcome with self-loathing, he crouched down—and felt a subtle, tingling looseness below. Alarmed, he reached back to touch it, and the sensation of his own fingertips sent a shiver down his spine. He yanked his hand away instantly. But… it felt like something else had just been planted in him. Something he’d learned that he shouldn’t have. He was scared of what he might do next time he was alone.

When a celebrity mired in scandal from a string of messy relationships stood before cameras and claimed, “I have a sex addiction…”, Kusuda had scoffed—“What a lame excuse.” But now… he understood. He really did. Because he was slipping into the very same situation, unable to believe the way he was acting.

He hadn’t wanted to have penetrative sex with Akizawa. He seriously hadn’t. But once it happened… he’d fallen, and fallen hard. He’d had sex with women before, and it felt good—he’d thought that was enough. But what happened with Akizawa? The sheer level of sensation was on another plane entirely.

It was supposed to be degrading, being dominated by another man—but once Akizawa was inside him, once he was being stirred up from within, the pleasure had been overwhelming. Like an addict, he couldn’t tear himself away. His body didn’t feel like his anymore—he turned to mush, sloppy and helpless, like a cat rolling in catnip. With another man, he found himself saying humiliating things he never imagined he’d say, begging to be penetrated.

This side of him—he’d never let anyone see it, not ever, not unless it was Akizawa. He’d rather die than let anyone else witness it.

Sex that felt too good… shook something at the core of him. Had he just never realized he was gay? But he’d never once wanted to sleep with a man before Akizawa. He’d liked women just fine. So did that mean gender didn’t matter?

…None of it made sense anymore.

The doorbell rang. He handed off the clothes to the bellboy and returned to the bedroom. There were two beds. Kusuda lay down on the clean one. Akizawa was fast asleep in the other, sheets a complete mess.

It was cold enough outside that it might snow, but the room was warm enough to be comfortable even while naked.

Sex with Akizawa left him completely drained. In the moment, he was too swept up in it to care, but being taken by something that big, getting stirred up like that—of course it wore him down. The day after they overdid it, even standing could feel like a struggle.

Once desire passed and his head cleared, he always started thinking too much. I’m messed up, he thought. I need to get myself back on track. But no matter how he looked at it, he couldn’t figure out how.

Akizawa shifted, rolled over to face him, and after a bit of stirring, slowly opened his eyes.

“…Was someone here?”

A scratchy, sleepy voice. Earlier, he still seemed caught in character—but now, from the way he spoke, it was clear Akizawa had returned to his usual self.

“I asked the front desk to dry my wet clothes,” Kusuda replied.

Akizawa let out a huge yawn and got up on all fours on the bed. He shuffled over, slow and heavy, and climbed into Kusuda’s bed like it was the most natural thing in the world. He smelled faintly of sweat as he pulled Kusuda into his arms. What bothered Kusuda more was that the thing between Akizawa’s legs, pressed up against him, hadn’t gone completely soft.

“…I’m telling you, I can’t do this again tonight.”

He warned him off, and Akizawa narrowed his eyes in a pout, then reached for Kusuda’s bathrobe. He undid the knot and pulled the collar wide open.

“I said no.”

Akizawa’s hand came up and pinched his nipple—already red and raw from earlier. If Kusuda really hated it, he could’ve pulled away. Just a little movement and that hand would fall away. But he let it happen. Let Akizawa touch him however he wanted.

The sharp pinch stung—but underneath the pain, sweetness spread through him, making his core shiver.

“Mm…”

A soft, inviting moan escaped him, and Akizawa pushed him down with force. Up close, Akizawa’s face really was beautiful. Kusuda had always known it was well-formed, but since he started appearing in dramas, he’d become more and more polished—he practically radiated that unmistakable glow of someone in show business.

“I think couples should sleep in the same bed,” Akizawa said, dead serious.

“When I wake up and you’re not there, it feels lonely.”

Even as he complained, he nuzzled Kusuda’s neck like a clingy child, nose pressing in, tickling a little.

“We always sleep together when we’re at my place,” Kusuda pointed out.

Well, there was only one bed in the apartment, so that was kind of inevitable.

“When I woke up just now and you weren’t next to me, I was really shocked.”

“I was in the bed right next to yours.”

They exchanged words so ridiculous anyone else might gag just hearing them, yet they held each other gently, slowly. The kiss was deep and sweet.

Are we really lovers? Kusuda wondered again. He’d been told over and over—I love you, I’m in love with you—and everything pointed to that being the case. When Akizawa said he wanted to see him, Kusuda would jump into a taxi without hesitation. They’d hold each other. Have sex.

He’d never imagined he’d fall so hard into sex like this. And yes, it was definitely this man who had dragged that unknown part of him to the surface. But was that what a romantic relationship was supposed to be?

Maybe the problem was that they’d connected physically before his feelings had fully matured. The pleasure of the body was just so stupidly intense, it overwhelmed everything else. The balance between emotion and physicality was completely off.

When Akizawa climbed over him, the weight was too much, so Kusuda rolled to his side—and Akizawa immediately pressed up against his back. Then, reaching for Kusuda’s right hand, he slipped the ring off and gently slid it onto his left ring finger.

On days off, Kusuda might wear a company-brand necklace, but on regular workdays, he didn’t wear accessories. They didn’t suit a man’s business suit. Still, Akizawa would constantly pester him: “Why don’t you wear the ring I gave you?” It was annoying.

Kusuda had never been one to wear rings. And besides, once a gift is given, it should be up to the recipient whether or not to wear it. But Akizawa pushed hard. Eventually, Kusuda gave in and started wearing it on his right hand—not because he liked the ring, but because Akizawa was more of a nuisance than the discomfort.

Sometimes he’d forget or take it off, and then Akizawa would demand, “Where’s the ring?”—which just made him even more irritated. So eventually, he just started leaving it on all the time. People adjust. The ring he’d once hated had started to feel like part of his skin.

Wearing it on the left ring finger would lead to annoying questions at work—“Oh, you’re married?”—and explaining it each time was a hassle. That’s why he usually kept it on the right. But Akizawa clearly didn’t like that, and often moved it back to the left himself.

Now, Akizawa took Kusuda’s left hand, brought it to his lips, and placed a soft kiss near the ring—then began to playfully nibble around it with a look full of affection.

“Go to sleep already.”

He said it, but Akizawa didn’t seem inclined to stop. Apparently tired of just playing with his fingers, he now nipped gently at Kusuda’s earlobe.

“You might be fine now that your drama’s wrapped up, but I still have work tomorrow,” Kusuda muttered.

Even his voice trying to object came out sickeningly sweet, and he hated that. After teasing and clinging and thoroughly chasing away Kusuda’s sleep, Akizawa suddenly murmured, “Masahiko, you’re my soulmate, right?”

“Ever since I met you, everything’s been going right. And I mean, you really love me, don’t you? My private life is so full now, maybe that’s why—even when something goes wrong, I don’t get all edgy like I did in my teens.”

As he said it, Akizawa gently brushed back Kusuda’s hair with obvious affection.

“You know how athletes always say on TV they calmed down after getting married? Maybe this is what they mean.”

Kusuda couldn’t answer. It didn’t seem like Akizawa was expecting a reply anyway; he didn’t press for one.

“As long as I’ve got you, Masahiko, there’s nothing in the world I’m afraid of.”

Akizawa eventually ran out of things to say and fell silent. The strength in the arms holding him slackened, his eyelids lowered, and his breathing settled into a quiet, steady rhythm. He had fallen asleep.

Akizawa was the type to get caught up in his own delusions. Right now, he genuinely believed—without a shred of doubt—that they were in a mutual, loving relationship. If Kusuda were to say “I’m not sure if I love you” in this state, Akizawa would absolutely lose it. That would be a problem. Things were finally going well—work, the agency, everything.

For now, it was fine. But what about later? Was he really going to spend his future with this clingy, overbearing guy, pretending to be lovers?

Kusuda stared quietly at the sleeping face beside him. It wasn’t that he felt nothing. The sex—where they laid everything bare—felt incredible, and he liked that. But if asked whether that counted as love…

Honestly, he didn’t know.

Things with Miyabi hadn’t worked out, but Kusuda had always assumed he’d eventually date someone again, get married. Even Masamitsu had settled down. Not getting married had never really been an option in his mind.

Now, with his romantic target suddenly a man, being told to think seriously about the future felt like being asked to imagine something impossible. He couldn’t see anything ahead—just the immediate pleasure in front of him.

There was a lot to unpack—but still, he couldn’t push Akizawa away. Not now. Especially not with their image-model partnership and all the work tied to it.

How did it even get to this point…? he thought. But now that they’d crossed this far, there was no going back.

Tired of thinking it all through, Kusuda surrendered to sleep, letting himself be held in Akizawa’s arms as he drifted off into unconsciousness.

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