COLD HEART in TOKYO: Chapter 7

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Unable to sleep easily out of fear of being in the same house as Akizawa, Masahiko Kusuda eventually succumbed to an intense wave of drowsiness as dawn approached, sinking into slumber. He woke up, still sleep-deprived, to the usual chime of his smartphone’s alarm announcing the start of morning. ...It was a relief he hadn’t been murdered in his sleep.

Yawning, he made his way to the living room. Having chosen this himself, he couldn’t exactly complain... The eccentric, no—outright abnormal and unhinged actor was sleeping soundly and blissfully on the hard floor, as if it were the most comfortable bed in the world.

Unlike a company employee with fixed hours, Kusuda could adjust his working time somewhat freely, but today, the representative from the printing company was scheduled to visit the office in the morning. He wanted to leave the apartment by nine o’clock. Hoping the noise would wake Akizawa naturally, Kusuda deliberately stomped around near him, but Akizawa, as if encased in a perfectly soundproof transparent shield, didn’t so much as twitch an eyelash.

Kusuda brewed two cups of coffee, loaded two slices of frozen bread into the pop-up toaster, set it, and then approached the man sprawled on the floor.

"Akizawa-san."

No response.

"Excuse me," he added, shaking his shoulder. Akizawa’s brow furrowed deeply, twisting into a menacing expression so fierce that it resembled a demon mask even while asleep. Intimidated, Kusuda instinctively pulled back, but still kept shaking him undeterred.

"I have to leave for work, so please wake up."

If it were a friend, he might’ve left a key and gone ahead, but there was no way he was leaving this guy alone here. He didn’t want the apartment turned into a wreck like that time during the shoot in the abandoned building.

Persistent in his attempts to wake him, Kusuda finally succeeded in getting Akizawa to sluggishly lift his upper body, his face filled with such murderous intent it looked like he could wrestle a bear.

"Would you like some breakfast? It's just bread and coffee, though."

Akizawa scratched at his scalp, fingers digging roughly into his bedhead. Kusuda sent him an unspoken message: Feel free to decline breakfast and go home already... Just as he did, the toaster behind him dinged. Akizawa’s half-lidded, hostile eyes snapped wide open.

"That!"

Following the finger Akizawa thrust out, Kusuda saw a slice of toast poking up from the toaster on the table.

"The bread's done," Kusuda explained.

"It popped right out!"

"...Because it’s a pop-up toaster."

"Never seen that before! I didn’t know!"

With a spring, Akizawa leapt to his feet and rushed over to the table. He peered at the rectangular box of a toaster from above and from the side, examining it as if he had discovered some rare, exotic creature. Kusuda plucked the toasted bread from the toaster and placed it on a plate, then offered it to him along with the coffee.

"Here you go. It’s nothing fancy, though."

Akizawa sat awkwardly across from him but didn’t touch the bread or coffee, his gaze still glued to the toaster like he was possessed.

“Is a pop-up toaster really that unusual?”

Kusuda had grown up with one at home; theirs was still going strong. He had always assumed it was normal for every household to have one. But Miyabi had once laughed and said, “This is like some retro appliance from the Showa era. So quirky.”

"Isn’t it inconvenient if you can only toast bread? Wouldn’t an oven toaster be better?"

She had asked him seriously, and Kusuda had thought, Mind your own business.

Sure, regular oven toasters were versatile, but with a pop-up toaster, you could get bread that was crispy on the outside and chewy inside. Plus, you could pop in frozen slices straight from the freezer. Raised on toast for breakfast—and quite happy eating toast for three meals a day if necessary—Kusuda had prioritized buying a pop-up toaster over buying a pot when he first started living alone.

Akizawa, still thoroughly enamored with the toaster, reached out a hand, looking like he might stick a finger right into the bread slot. Kusuda hastily pulled the toaster toward himself.

“The inside’s hot—you’ll burn yourself.”

Even though he had just saved him from injury, Akizawa pouted and glared at him with wounded resentment. I literally just told you you’d get burned! Are you a preschooler?! Kusuda wanted to yell, but he swallowed it down. After all, he was dealing with a temperamental, eccentric actor.

Finally, having had his precious toy snatched away, Akizawa lowered his gaze to the plate of toast.

“Don’t you have anything to put on it? Like jam?”

Now that he thought about it, yesterday Akizawa had dumped a ridiculous amount of sugar into his coffee.

“Sorry. All I have is butter. Ah, but I do have sugar.”

Kusuda placed a few packets of stick sugar on the table. Akizawa fell silent, his gaze lowered. For once, the usually brazen man seemed to be hesitating.

Then Akizawa looked up at him with an oddly pitying expression.

“Putting sugar on plain bread... feels kinda poor.”

Kusuda’s mouth twitched.

He pressed down the urge to explode, burying it deep under a metaphorical hundred-ton weight, and forced a smile onto his face using every muscle he had.

“Sugar toast can be pretty good too.”

Akizawa let out a huge, exaggerated sigh that grated on Kusuda’s nerves even more, then finally spread butter on the bread and sprinkled sugar over it. And, of course, dumped more sugar into his coffee for good measure.

To Kusuda, who had a normal threshold for sweetness, just watching it made his mouth feel cloying.

Come to think of it, has this guy even washed his face since getting up? Kusuda thought, just as Akizawa took a huge, decisive bite of the toast.

The gloomy look on his face immediately lit up.

“This is amazing. Seriously—this is so good.”

Even though he was being praised, the accumulation of casual insults from earlier had left Kusuda’s mood in tatters, so his reply came out flat and lifeless: “Glad you like it.”

“But why? It’s just toast. I’ve never had anything this good before.”

Faced with that sparkling, expectant gaze, Kusuda had no choice but to explain.

“This appliance is specialized for toasting bread. It’s made to bring out the best in it.”

In a flash, Akizawa finished the first slice and now eyed the piece Kusuda was still holding with open longing.

Is he still hungry? Kusuda wondered.

 

"Should I toast another slice?"

"Yeah!"

His voice bounced with childlike excitement. Kusuda pulled a loaf of frozen bread from the freezer and glanced back at Akizawa.

"One slice okay?"

"Two."

You really don't have an ounce of restraint, do you... Kusuda thought, but he wasn’t about to cheap out on slices that cost only a few dozen yen each, so he popped two into the toaster without protest. As he adjusted the browning dial, he reasoned that if Akizawa had any sense of restraint or consideration, he wouldn’t threaten people or barge into their homes in the first place. In its own way, it made sense.

Just then, the ringtone of his smartphone echoed through the apartment. Who’s calling this early? he wondered as he picked it up—Miyamoto’s name flashed on the screen.

"Good morning. Um, Inoue-san from Tatebayashi Printing just arrived."

“What? Isn’t that early?”

Checking the time, it was 9:20 a.m. They had agreed to meet in the morning, but within the industry’s unspoken rules, it was standard to schedule appointments after ten.

"Inoue-san said he had an urgent trip to Hokkaido this afternoon. He came early because he wants to finalize the color proofing for our poster before he leaves. It’s for the second design we were still working on."

There were often discrepancies between colors viewed on a monitor and the final printed materials. Fine-tuning was critical. Of the two poster designs, the navy color in one hadn’t turned out right, so they had requested another round of proofing.

"Is Masamitsu there?"

"He hasn't arrived yet."

Without his brother around, Kusuda was stuck. This time of morning, traffic had already eased, so a taxi would be faster than the train.

"I’ll head over right now. Could you ask Inoue-san to wait fifteen minutes? In the meantime, can you check any areas you think need attention?"

"Got it."

Just as he ended the call, a cheerful ding came from the toaster. Two golden slices of toast peeked up from the slots.

"Sorry, Akizawa-san. I have to rush to the office for work. Would you mind getting ready to leave?"

“What? But the toast just finished...!”

Akizawa pouted, a deep frown forming between his brows. Kusuda had said it was work—was he even listening?

"You can take the toast with you. I think there’s a Ziploc bag around here somewhere—"

"If you do that, it’ll get cold."

Kusuda’s temple twitched involuntarily. Expecting common courtesy from this guy was clearly pointless.

"…Then could you just eat it right now?"

"There’s two slices. Don’t rush me. And if I move right after eating, my side always hurts."

I couldn’t care less about your goddamn side. And seriously, read the damn room! Can’t you tell I’m in a hurry?! …No, he probably doesn’t get it. Telling this guy about social norms would be a waste of breath.

Kusuda pulled his apartment key from his jacket pocket and slammed it down on the table.

“This is the key. I’m heading out now. When you leave, just lock up and drop the key in the mailbox downstairs.”

Akizawa started to ask something—“Wait, hey…”—but Kusuda had already grabbed his coat and bolted out of the apartment.

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