COLD THE FINAL: Chapter 20

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in CRUX

The bus rattled noisily as it rolled along. There were only a handful of passengers on the local route. Sitting side by side in the third-to-last row of two-person seats, Keishi Fujishima dozed quietly next to Tohru. It would take about thirty minutes to get from the inn to the station. His hand was being held tightly by Tohru, taking advantage of the fact that no one could see them.

It was the end of February. They had come to Yuzawa for a brief trip timed with Tohru's time off, spending a relaxed few days at a quaint, old-fashioned ryokan. The food had all been delicious, and the hot springs felt amazing. Their room had its own private open-air bath, so they didn’t need to worry about prying eyes.

Tohru had become increasingly busy as a photographer, traveling constantly for shoots both within Japan and overseas. Even so, two or three times a year, he made a point to take Keishi on trips like this. It had started with a vacation to New York, when they’d finally managed to take time off together. Up until then, they had never gone on a trip far from home, and the novelty had made it especially fun. Tohru must have felt the same, because ever since then, he’d made it a habit to invite Keishi on these little getaways.

When asked if there was anywhere he wanted to go, Keishi had said, “Maybe a hot spring would be nice,” and after that, Tohru began taking him to hot spring resorts around the country. They’d soak in the baths, eat good food, and if they felt like it, maybe do a little sightseeing. At the ryokan, Tohru would turn into someone completely drained of energy, his features slack with relaxation. He lazed around constantly and spent all his time taking pictures of Keishi, his partner. Some of the photos were quite embarrassing, but at this point it didn’t matter. Keishi knew that Tohru would never show them to anyone.

The bus gave a big jolt, and Keishi’s head dropped against Tohru’s chest. “Ah, sorry,” he mumbled, starting to lift his head, but their eyes met—and Tohru kissed him on the ear. The sweet air from the ryokan still lingered between them. Usually stiff and reserved, Tohru was bold right now.

In the past few years, Tohru had noticeably calmed down. He no longer lashed out or got overwhelmed by his emotions the way he once had. And he laughed more—his mouth twisting in that shy, crooked smile of his. Every time Keishi saw it, his chest stirred with a gentle flutter.

Even if it seemed like nothing was changing, they were both changing, little by little, every day. Keishi himself had left his former job as a sales rep at a paper company and now worked in sales and accounting at the accessory brand CRUX. These days, he even had two subordinates under him.

When they got to the station, there was still time before their shinkansen departure, so they browsed through the souvenir shops and took a break at a café. It was almost noon, but their breakfast had been so large that they weren’t hungry yet.

As they leisurely sipped their coffee, Keishi’s phone lit up with a call. The name on the screen was Masamitsu Kusuda, the president of CRUX.

“It’s Masamitsu-san. I should take this, just in case it’s something urgent,” Keishi said to Tohru before accepting the call. What came through his ear was a panicked voice: “Fujishima-san! It’s a disaster!”

He had never heard Masamitsu sound so flustered before. For a moment, the worst-case scenario crossed his mind—was the company going bankrupt? But CRUX had been doing well and steadily growing. Then maybe someone was injured…?

"Did you watch TV? Or check the news online?"

They hadn’t. Tohru hated TV, so they hadn’t turned it on once during the trip. Same with the phone—they’d barely touched it.

“No, I haven’t.”

"Akizawa-san—he… he won the Oscar!"

Keishi gasped. Kaito Akizawa, the actor and model who served as CRUX’s image model, had been nominated for the Best Supporting Actor award at the American Academy Awards. Just being nominated was a huge honor. Keishi had immediately contacted the agency to offer congratulations, but Akizawa’s father, Numata, who was also the agency’s vice president, had responded calmly: “It’s a great honor, but he won’t win. The chances are close to zero.”

“In recent years, the Academy Awards have come under heavy scrutiny for nominating only white actors, which has made racial discrimination a major point of contention. It’s now generally considered appropriate that a certain number of nominees, both in lead and supporting roles, be people of color. Akizawa was nominated for Best Supporting Actor in a high-profile film, and he’s Asian—so in that sense, I believe the nomination was likely a calculated gesture of inclusion. I hate thinking of it that way, but unfortunately, that’s the reality. Our agency has decided not to make a big deal out of the nomination. If he were a newcomer, that would be one thing, but Akizawa already has an established track record. With a large, commercial award like the Oscars, the stigma of losing tends to outweigh the prestige of being nominated.”

It wasn’t the kind of news one could celebrate at face value, and so Keishi relayed Numata’s words to Masamitsu Kusuda. Masamitsu had only murmured, “Things sure are complicated everywhere,” and decided that CRUX wouldn’t publicize the nomination too heavily—once the award season ended, people would forget soon enough anyway.

A few days earlier, Miyamoto, the office clerk, had asked, “The Oscar announcement will be during the day in Japan, right?” Even she knew Akizawa was unlikely to win, but had added, “I just want to see Akizawa-san walk the red carpet.” Keishi felt the same. He was curious, but since he was on a trip with Tohru, he hadn’t watched anything live. He’d just set to record the broadcast and planned to watch it later.

“I’d heard from Numata-san that it wasn’t going to happen,” he told Masamitsu.

“But he won!” came the breathless reply. “It’s incredible! And he thanked our company in his speech. He even mentioned Masahiko… I’m not sure how I feel about that, but anyway, it’s amazing. We should hold some kind of celebration when he comes back—even if it’s just something small for us.”

“That sounds like a great idea.”

The call ended shortly after. When Keishi told Tohru, “Akizawa-san won the Academy Award,” Tohru only responded with a lukewarm “Huh.”

“You’re not surprised?”

“He was one of the five nominees, wasn’t he?”

“Well, yes…”

“Then it was a one-in-five chance.”

Keishi wasn’t convinced it was quite that simple, but now that the result was in, maybe that way of thinking wasn’t so bad after all.

“I was looking at the map here and saw they have sake tasting.”

The topic changed abruptly. Tohru really didn’t care about Akizawa’s win. Speaking of alcohol, Tohru had also ordered local sake at the ryokan and encouraged Keishi to try it. …Maybe he wanted to drink more?

“Sure, want to go?”

Tohru stood up quickly and started walking. Keishi hurried to catch up, grabbing their things. The tasting area seemed to be behind the souvenir section, and as they wove between stacks of local goods, he asked, “If there’s one you like, want to buy some to take home?”

“I’m good.”

“Don’t you want to have it at home too?”

“I just want to see you drunk.”

That brought him to a dead stop. Tohru noticed and turned back. Even when Tohru tugged on his hand, he dug in his heels.

“Actually, never mind.”

“What’s wrong?”

His face flushed hot, and he covered it with his free hand to hide the redness.

“It’s embarrassing.”

“You’re hot when you’re drunk.”

Tohru whispered that against his ear, and it hit him low in the spine like a hammer. It only made him resist harder. But he was dragged along anyway. The tasting area was full of all kinds of sake, and they were all delicious. He had firmly decided not to get drunk, but with Tohru egging him on, by the time they boarded the shinkansen, he was thoroughly tipsy—the exact kind of arousing drunk Tohru had wanted.

He laid his head in Tohru’s lap, pretending to be drunk. It was a little firm, but comfortable. More than that, the fingers running through his hair while Tohru mumbled “Don’t fall asleep” felt so good, so gentle, that Keishi thought… maybe it wasn’t so bad, being seduced by this kind of drunkenness.

After spending three wonderful days in Yuzawa on paid leave and returning to work with a refreshed spirit, Keishi found the CRUX office in chaos. Ever since the announcement of the Academy Awards, the company website had crashed from overwhelming traffic, and emails flooded in from retail shops requesting restocks of their products.

Akizawa’s repeated mentions of CRUX during his Oscar acceptance speech had an explosive promotional effect. On top of that, the accessories he wore to the ceremony—surprisingly affordable for Hollywood standards—sparked a flood of inquiries not only from Japan and the U.S., but from across Europe as well. This momentum also spread to unrelated collections, boosting overall product movement across the board.

Keishi immediately checked stock levels and, along with his team, shipped everything they had—some by mail, others by hand delivery. After consulting with Masamitsu Kusuda, the company president, they agreed to ramp up production on the accessories Akizawa had worn. Once the website was restored, they began accepting preorders for restocks, with payment required in advance.

Though he let his subordinates go home, Keishi stayed behind at the office, catching naps between tasks as he worked through the chaos. Every time he finished one task, two more problems would arise—it was a never-ending cycle. Even so, he kept telling himself this is the peak, today’s the peak, and pushed forward. But the finish line remained nowhere in sight.

By the third night of sleeping at the office, Tohru returned from his work trip and stopped by CRUX straight from the airport. Keishi, utterly exhausted from replying to customer inquiries, had fallen asleep on the floor of the records room next door, with cardboard and bubble wrap laid out as makeshift bedding. Mistaking the sight for a medical emergency, Tohru panicked and shook him awake.

Still groggy from sleep deprivation, Keishi barely registered Tohru’s scolding. “You’re going to ruin your health like this. You need to cut back on work.” But Tohru’s voice was oddly comforting—so much so that Keishi found himself drifting back toward sleep as he buried his face against Tohru’s chest.

“Hey, listen to me!”

Tohru shook him. Rocked back and forth… then something came to mind.

“The photo book…”

“What about it?”

“Since Akizawa won the award, we’ve gotten a ton of inquiries asking about the photo book… It’s been out of print, but I want to reissue it. People have been asking for a reprint for years. It’s a beautiful book—I’ve wanted to bring it back for so long… and now we could. I want people to see your photography again…”

“If you want to reissue it, do whatever you want.”

Held tightly against Tohru’s broad chest, Keishi felt a wave of contentment. He wrapped his arms around that steady back and murmured, “Sleepy,” before slipping fully into unconsciousness.

…When he next woke up, the room was dark. Tohru lay beside him, clearly uncomfortable, trying to sleep in the cramped space. It was already two in the morning. Keishi shook him gently, and Tohru stirred with an irritable groan, ruffling his own hair.

“Finally awake, huh? You wouldn’t let go of me, so I had no choice but to sleep here.”

Keishi apologized. He vaguely remembered their conversation, but after running on nearly no sleep for two days, he’d been too far gone to keep his eyes open.

“I heard from the others you weren’t going home, so I came to check on you—and look at this mess. Think about your limits. You’re way too thin already.”

“I’m fine. This is just the peak—things will calm down soon.”

“I stuffed you full of food on that trip, and you were finally putting on a little healthy weight.”

Tohru touched his lower stomach, making Keishi flinch. That’s the one place I don’t want weight. He gently brushed Tohru’s hand away, but Tohru narrowed his eyes.

“What, are you mad?”

“I’m not mad.”

Tohru didn’t say anything, just watched him for a moment with that unreadable gaze of his, then pulled him close again with a quiet, exasperated sigh. “Then don’t act like it.”

The way he said it was so typical—to the point, with no room for emotional theatrics—but somehow, it made Keishi’s chest ache a little. Being scolded, touched, worried over… it was all too much and not enough at the same time.

“I just don’t want to trouble you,” he mumbled into the crook of Tohru’s neck.

“You already are. So what? I came here because I wanted to. I worry because I care.”

That should’ve been obvious. And yet, hearing it said aloud like that made Keishi’s throat tighten. He nodded once, his cheek brushing against Tohru’s skin.

Tohru shifted a little, then wrapped both arms around him properly, pulling him into a more comfortable position against his chest. “Sleep. I’m staying the night. I’ll drag you home tomorrow if I have to.”

Keishi didn’t argue. He was too tired, too warm, and honestly… too happy.

This moment, the steady hum of Tohru’s heartbeat beneath his ear, the subtle scent of his shirt, the protective hold—none of it felt dramatic or cinematic. But it was real. It was their real.

And that was enough.

THE END.

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