COLD THE FINAL: Chapter 1

While you may already be familiar with these terms, I’ve provided their English definitions for those who may not be.

さん (san): This is a general, respectful suffix used to address or refer to someone. It's similar to "Mr.," "Mrs.," or "Ms." in English. It's commonly used for people of all ages and social statuses in both formal and informal contexts.

君 (kun): This suffix is often used for addressing younger males, or in a more familiar or casual setting. It can be used with people of the same or lower status, and it's commonly used among friends, students, or in professional settings where there is a clear hierarchy (like between a superior and a subordinate). 

Content warning: This novel contains descriptions of explicit sexual content. I will not be adding a trigger warning to each chapter with graphic content, so please consider this a general warning.

Translator’s Note: This is the sequel of COLD HEART in NEWYORK. In case you haven't read it, check out the Table of Content. COLD THE FINAL is a collection of short stories from the COLD Series.

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COLD SLEEP monopoly

The air had grown dusty, the sky hazy, and though the days were gradually warming, the chill would always creep back in once the sun went down. You’d think a light jacket would do during the daytime, only to regret it on the way home.

Tohru Takahisa was right in the middle of that exact regret, pedaling his bicycle hard. When he finally reached his destination, he exhaled in relief. The park at night was quiet. He pushed his bike into the grounds and made his way to his usual bench.

Propping the bicycle against the armrest, he reached into the backpack on his back and pulled out a tin can with a cat’s face printed on it.

“Hey, Shiro!”

His voice echoed through the stillness of the park. No response. Maybe the cat had gone foraging elsewhere in search of food. He called out again—“Shiiiro!”

A rustle came from the thicket behind the bench, followed by a “meow.” A slender, beautiful cat with snow-white fur and blue eyes emerged from beneath the bench, looked up at Tohru, tilted its head upward, and let out a soft, affectionate “nyaa~.”

He popped open the lid of the can. The cat jumped onto the bench and, without hesitation, plunged its face into the tuna and started munching hungrily from Tohru’s hand.

He’d known this cat—whom he’d named “Shiro” on his own whim—for about a week now. The first time they met, he gave it a leftover piece of cake, but worried it wasn’t good for the cat’s health, he’d switched to proper cat food.

“Tasty, huh?”

The cat didn’t lift its face from the can. Even when Tohru reached out and gently touched its back, it showed no reaction. Whether it was too focused on eating or had gotten used to him—probably both—he took advantage of the lack of resistance and stroked the cat as much as he liked. Its body was soft, and the fluffy texture of its fur was soothing to the touch.

“You warmed up to me right away…”

His thoughts turned to Keishi Fujishima, the man he’d confessed to two weeks earlier. At first, being told that he had lost his memory had left him completely at a loss. The idea that the person who had taken him in—who just happened to be male—would become someone he fell for… he never could’ve imagined it. But he had made his feelings clear, kissed him, and touched him—just a little. He was sure… no, absolutely certain that the feeling was mutual.

And yet, they weren’t moving forward. If anything, they were slipping backward. He understood that with Fujishima still hospitalized, it wasn’t exactly the setting for flirtation. He got that. Still, if he was being honest, he wanted to be affectionate. Even if they couldn’t go as far as touching each other intimately, he wished they could at least sneak in a kiss here and there. But sometimes, even that wasn’t allowed. Every time he thought I want to kiss him, and waited for the right moment, Fujishima would turn his head or cast his gaze downward, as if purposefully avoiding any atmosphere that might lead to something romantic. So lately, the only kisses he could manage were quick, stolen ones in brief unguarded moments.

The cat lifted its head. The can was empty. With a satisfied squint, it diligently licked around its mouth. When Tohru offered his right hand, the cat sniffed it curiously before giving it a single lick. When he stroked its head, it nudged its nose against him affectionately. The words slipped out of his mouth without thinking—“This is it…”

Just like this cat, which had once run away at even the slightest touch but now had grown attached to him, he wished Fujishima would also become familiar with him. He wanted that kind of closeness—both to rely on and be relied upon.

The cat purred loudly. While rubbing under its chin, Tohru murmured to it, “You’re seriously adorable.”

“I wanna keep you… I don’t even know if pets are allowed in that apartment building. And maybe Fujishima-san doesn’t like cats. But… when he gets out of the hospital, I’ll try asking him.”

When Tohru ran his fingers along its nose, the cat let out a sweet little “nyaa~.”

…The next day, it rained. Tohru walked around the nighttime park in a raincoat lent to him by the kind older lady at his part-time job at the Western-style pastry shop Port. He called out Shiro’s name, but the cat didn’t appear. Maybe his voice was drowned out by the sound of rain, or maybe Shiro was hiding somewhere to avoid getting wet. After circling the park twice, Tohru finally gave up. He got on his bicycle, placed his hands on the handlebars, and was just about to pedal off when he saw, faintly in the dusky light of the park, a red umbrella.

A meow—Shiro’s voice.

He started to run toward it, but his feet froze mid-step.

Shiro was wrapped in a white towel and cradled in someone’s arms. The person looked like a quiet woman in her mid-twenties, with long hair and a gentle demeanor. She held Shiro close and slowly walked out of the park. Shiro meowed again, clearly noticing him, but the woman never turned around.

Tohru stood frozen in place.

He didn’t know if that woman was Shiro’s original owner or someone who’d just taken him in. He couldn’t know for sure. But he did understand one thing—Shiro no longer had to wait longingly for the food he brought. He’d now have full meals and a warm place to rest.

Fujishima sat on the edge of his hospital bed, eating cake. Tohru waited until he saw his throat move to swallow before offering the next bite. Outside, the rain continued to fall in a steady downpour.

Visiting hours had long passed, but maybe because he’d brought the nurses some cake, the familiar one on duty had allowed him to stay until lights-out. “Just keep it quiet,” she’d said, putting a finger to her lips with a smile.

Since Fujishima was still on an IV, Tohru insisted on feeding him by hand. Fujishima said it was fine to move his arms, but Tohru hadn’t relented—he couldn’t bear the thought of something going wrong.

Fujishima had been too embarrassed to open his mouth at first, so Tohru had drawn the curtain around the bed. The person in the next bed had gone for a night walk or something—Tohru hadn’t seen them since he arrived.

He thought about Shiro—the beautiful cat he’d been feeding. If someone were to come now and take Fujishima away, just like Shiro had been taken, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay calm. Even if he tried to tell himself it was for the best, that Fujishima would be happier, he couldn't wish for that. He knew it was selfish. He knew it was ego.

“...Tohru?”

He was so lost in thought, he hadn’t noticed the soft, cream-tipped lips parting, waiting for the next bite. Flustered, he brought the last piece of cake to Fujishima’s mouth with the fork.

“That was delicious. Thank you,” Fujishima said quietly, bowing his head slightly in gratitude.

“There’s still some left.”

“Huh? But the plate’s empty…”

Before Fujishima could finish his sentence, Tohru took hold of his arm and kissed his sweet lips. When Fujishima instinctively pulled back, Tohru wrapped him in a firm embrace and shared that final bite between their mouths. When he pulled away, Fujishima’s face was flushed crimson, even to the tips of his ears. Tohru held his trembling body close and found himself thinking—Maybe I should get serious about making cakes.

He didn’t want those lips to eat anything he hadn’t touched first. Whether it was food or kisses, he wanted to monopolize that contented mouth completely—just for himself.

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