COLD THE FINAL: Chapter 6

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COLD HEART – Kuma WORKS 1

It was three in the afternoon when Kuma Yuki realized that his body felt restless, like it was crawling under his skin. Just yesterday, this would’ve been the time he needed to wake up and get ready for work.

Now wrapped up in a towel blanket that still smelled of sweat, Kuma exhaled deeply into the damp, humid space around his face. He no longer had to go to his part-time job—rather, he couldn’t go anymore. The small izakaya where he’d worked for nearly three years had closed down the day before.

It had been a modest little place run by the owner and his wife, with just two part-timers, including Kuma. They had survived by relying on their regulars, but everything changed when a nationwide discount izakaya chain opened nearby. Business plummeted overnight. Curious about the competition, Kuma had gone undercover, pretending to be a customer to scope it out. The line outside the place had been long, the drinks were cheap, the food came out fast. But the flavor was nothing special, and the place was so noisy it was hard to relax. Young customers might like that, but older regulars probably found it off-putting.

The owner had hoped that business would pick back up in time. But he was seventy-seven, and with the decline in revenue added to his physical exhaustion, he finally said, without hesitation, “I’m closing the shop.”

The towel blanket was getting too warm, so Kuma kicked it down to his feet. The light filtering through the curtain—half-forgotten and still half-open—was faint, and the room was dim like a burrow. Despite the string of clear days they’d had, it had suddenly turned to rainy season. It had been pouring since yesterday.

From the other side of the wall came the sound of laughter—probably the old man next door watching TV. His laugh echoed faintly through the thin wall.

One small six-mat room. A shared toilet. No bath. Rent: 25,000 yen. And now, no job. The grim reality of his situation came into stark relief. He had planned to take it easy today, but then he asked himself—Can you really afford to? He had 150,000 yen to his name.

He needed to work. He had to find a job soon. If he sat on this too long, he wouldn’t even be able to pay rent. But even if he went to Hello Work, all they’d offer him would be day-laboring jobs—backbreaking and temporary. That’s how it had been three years ago too. Part-time jobs came with low pay and no benefits. This time, he wanted to land a full-time position. But with only a high school diploma and no qualifications, finding a decent job was going to be difficult.

He got up slowly and folded the futon. His old injury in his right knee throbbed dully, and he ended up sitting down again on top of the folded bedding. Another sigh escaped him. Outside, the rain seemed to have intensified—its pounding sound echoed in his ears, feeding the gray haze of his mood. Ever since the winter of his second year of high school, his life had gone off track. And ever since then, he’d been struggling to breathe in a place he never agreed to be in.

When he was in elementary school, Kuma had started to realize that his family was wealthier than most. He got pretty much anything he wanted, and his friends were often envious. During summer and winter breaks, his family would take trips abroad. He accepted that as normal.

Exposure to international travel at a young age had sparked his interest in other countries. Starting in the fall of his first year of high school, he studied abroad in the U.S. for a year. He made close friends, and set his sights on attending an American university in the future. He returned to Japan with that dream growing bright inside him—only to be told that winter by his father: “We’re filing for bankruptcy.”

His father had co-managed a business with a man named Kurisaki, who had embezzled funds under the company’s name, set fire to the factory, and then disappeared. They used the insurance payout and sold off the house, car, and everything else to cover the debts—but it wasn’t enough. In the end, they filed for bankruptcy. Even then, unpaid wages for the company’s workers remained.

They gathered what little they had and moved into his maternal grandparents’ house nearby. His father began working immediately, and his mother, who had always been a homemaker, took on part-time jobs. When his younger sister, then in her third year of junior high, said, “I’m not going to high school—I’ll get a job,” their father had desperately stopped her. Things had grown that tight—tight enough that his sister was willing to give up on education to help. In that atmosphere, how could Kuma even begin to say he wanted to go to college?

His father only asked him once, “What do you want to do after high school?” But sitting across from the man—so much thinner now, worn out from working nonstop since they’d moved—Kuma just couldn’t bring himself to say what he really wanted.

“I don’t really like studying, so I’ll just get a job,” he’d said casually.

His father had looked down, a little apologetic, and just a little relieved. “I see.”

After graduating, Kuma got a job at a food processing plant close enough to commute from home. But with business shrinking, the company shut down two of its five factories and laid off a significant portion of the staff. As one of the newest hires, Kuma was one of the first to go. He lost his job only eight months in.

He tried looking for other work while doing part-time jobs, but even as a young man, being a high school graduate with no credentials didn’t get him far. Eventually, he moved to Tokyo, found a cheap apartment, and kept job hunting. He tried several things but eventually settled into a part-time job at a nearby izakaya. “Young guys should eat plenty,” the boss would say, always giving him hearty staff meals. Any leftovers at closing time, Kuma was allowed to take home. He barely had to spend anything on food.

He worked every single day except the shop’s day off. On the day before payday, he’d send whatever money he had left home to his family.

He didn’t date. He didn’t go out. He just worked, quietly, day in and day out. Most of the customers were regulars—men in their forties and fifties—but occasionally younger patrons would show up. When he overheard them chatting about seminars or clubs, jealousy—sharp and bitter—would rise in his chest. If Kurisaki hadn’t embezzled money and burned down the factory, I could’ve had a normal college life, too. It was envy, pure and simple, and it hollowed him out inside.

He couldn't separate himself from it. People are people, I’m me—that kind of clean thinking never stuck. Sometimes he’d even say, “You’re better with the younger crowd,” and hand off customer service to a college-student coworker.

His younger sister Megumi graduated high school and, two years ago, got a clerical job at Hatanaka Construction. The whole family was working themselves to the bone, and by the time the debt from the bankruptcy had been whittled down to just two million yen, she suddenly announced, “I want to get married.”

She was two months pregnant. Her boyfriend was Mamoru Hatanaka—the son of the company’s president.

They had started dating about six months earlier. When he found out about the pregnancy, Mamoru proposed right away. But Megumi, still worried about their family’s debt, hesitated to say yes. Pressed by his frustration, Mamoru went to his own parents. After explaining the situation, they offered to pay off the entire remaining debt. At first, their father firmly refused the offer, but in the end they came to an agreement: the Hatanakas would cover the debt, and their family would repay them slowly over time.

Megumi was beautiful, sharp, thoughtful—apparently, she was well-liked by Mamoru’s parents too.

“Your mom and I talked it over,” their father said over the phone, “and we decided you don’t need to send money anymore. We should be able to pay off the debt in about five more years. Your mom and I will manage on our own. I know we put a lot on your shoulders, but from now on, we want you to live freely—do whatever makes you happy.”

More than happiness, what Kuma felt in that moment was a kind of emptiness. This freedom had come so suddenly, so unexpectedly. But he was already twenty-one. His classmates would be graduating and job-hunting next year. Even if he started cramming now, got a scholarship, and entered university, he’d be twenty-six by the time he graduated—at the very earliest.

In the end, Kuma continued working at the izakaya, dragging things along. His sister once said, “Mamoru says he’d be happy if you helped out at our company too,” but he turned her down. It was already more than generous of them to shoulder the debt—he couldn’t bring himself to impose further by relying on them for a job too.

The izakaya didn’t pay much, but it was a comfortable place. The owner liked him, always saying he was “thoughtful.” After Kuma once handled some foreign customers in fluent English, the owner started boasting to patrons, “One of our staff speaks fluent English, you know.”

The regulars had taken to calling him “Kuma-chan,” and now and then someone would say, “With English that good, aren’t there better jobs you could be doing?” Their praise, however casual, made him feel proud. But the truth was, even with decent English skills, it hadn’t gotten him anywhere professionally. Still, he’d liked that little world he had—and now it was gone.

Thinking about it wasn’t going to change anything. A job wasn’t going to fall into his lap. Better to look forward than keep brooding. Kuma stood up and got dressed to head for Hello Work. It was just one train ride away and stayed open until around five. Should I wear the one suit I bought secondhand? It was black, and with the rain today… he hesitated, but wanting to at least look presentable, he put on the suit jacket.

He didn’t feel like digging out his phone just to check the time, so he rummaged through a drawer for his watch—and found a business card instead.

Miyako Entertainment – President Miyako Nobuki

It belonged to a customer who’d come to the izakaya two months prior. A guy in his fifties, flashy, someone Kuma had never seen before. The vivid pink shirt he wore left a strong impression.

“You speak English fluently, don’t you?” the guy had asked. “You could be doing something better than waiting tables at an izakaya.”

He was drunk, clearly, with no filter or tact. The owner, being the kind man he was, pretended not to hear.

“Well, times are tough,” Kuma had replied, offering a neutral answer. “I’m just grateful to have somewhere to work.”

“You say that, but you’re what, almost forty? You gotta make more if you want to support a family.”

That was when the owner finally looked up, clearly alarmed.

“He looks older than he is, but he’s only twenty-two,” he said.

The flashy guy had shouted “Ehh!?” loud enough to make other customers turn. Kuma gave his usual strained smile—he was used to it—but the comment still hit a nerve. With all the hearty meals from the izakaya, his weight had crept up, and his midsection had grown noticeably. On top of that, his hairline had started receding ever since high school graduation. At first, he tried hiding it with long bangs, but constantly worrying about wind and glances became too stressful. He couldn’t take the looks that said, You’re trying to hide it, but it’s obvious. Eventually, he gave up and shaved it short. It didn’t cover the recession anymore, but he felt mentally freer.

The flashy man had said he’d just wandered into the shop because it was near his next meeting. “I’ve got this big gig coming up,” he said. “Can’t talk about it too loudly, though,” he added, drinking more and more until he passed out. He ended up lying in a corner until closing, still completely out. Left with no choice, Kuma had helped carry him to a taxi.

“Thanks for looking after me,” the man said. He’d sobered up a bit by the time they reached his apartment and was speaking more coherently. “If you ever run into trouble, get in touch with us.”

Along with the taxi fare, he’d handed over a business card. The name on it belonged to what looked like a talent agency.

The entertainment world... that glittering, glamorous place.

For someone like him—short, overweight, balding—it seemed like a world he’d never belong to. But even so, there was something dazzling about it. He kept the card. Maybe, just maybe, he wanted to hold on to that tiny fragment of sparkle.

That guy had been very drunk. Chances were, he didn’t remember Kuma at all. The business card had probably been just a formality, and reaching out now might just make him look foolish. But… maybe the guy was actually nice. Maybe if Kuma explained his situation, he’d introduce him to a job or something.

No, be realistic. They’d only met once, in a bar. Showing up out of the blue would just be a nuisance, wouldn’t it? Then again… Clutching the card, Kuma’s thoughts spun in circles. In the end, unable to decide whether to contact him or not, he simply tucked the card into his pocket and headed to Hello Work.

Because he was still young, there were listings for construction workers and other physically demanding jobs. But ever since a middle school accident injured his knee, he couldn’t put serious strain on his right leg. Walking was fine, and serving at a restaurant wasn’t a problem, but even at the izakaya, during the hectic year-end and New Year rush, the pain would sometimes return, a dull and persistent throb.

Not being able to lift or carry heavy things was a fatal flaw in manual labor jobs. He had once tried working a site gig, but pushed himself too hard and by the next day, he couldn’t even walk. Since then, he’d stayed far away from that type of work.

He left Hello Work after about an hour, having found nothing worthwhile. Even though he hadn’t really done anything, he felt drained. He closed his eyes on the train and ended up missing his stop.

Pulling the business card out of his pocket, Kuma checked the company on his phone. The office was in Yoyogi—just two stops ahead. They’ll turn me away at the door, he thought. It’d just be a waste of train fare. But… he’d missed his stop anyway. So he got off at Yoyogi.

He followed the map on his phone as he walked through the streets. Then he saw it. It was real.

A sign for Miyako Entertainment hung on the third floor of a building. Suddenly, the whole idea struck him as shameless. He stopped in his tracks, paralyzed by nerves. I should just go back, he thought, and turned to leave.

And just then, a cold drop of water hit the tip of his nose.

Rain.

It had been dry when he left the apartment, so he hadn’t brought an umbrella. Now, the rain picked up quickly. Not wanting to get soaked, he stepped into the building’s entrance.

The nearest convenience store was too far. He’d be drenched by the time he got there. Better to stay put until the rain let up. Near the elevator, a small plaque beside the floor indicator read: 3F – Miyako Entertainment. He had time—nothing but time. And he was unemployed.

Even with all the back-and-forth in his mind, Kuma finally let go. This is probably the only time I’ll ever be here. I’ll never see this person again. A small part of him was simply curious. What did a real talent agency look like? He’d never step into one otherwise.

He got in the elevator, shivering, and pressed the button for the third floor.

There were two companies on the floor. Miyako Entertainment was in the back.

“Calm down,” he told himself. He knew this was brazen. Showing up without an appointment was completely inappropriate. If they turned him away cold, it would be only natural.

He took a breath and opened the door. Immediately inside was a reception counter. A beautiful woman with a short haircut smiled at him and greeted him with a calm “Hello.”

Kuma felt like his heart might leap out of his chest. Movie and drama posters plastered along the hallway walls only added to his anxiety.

“G-good afternoon. My name is Kumama Yuki. Is President Miyako in?”

His voice trembled with nerves.

“The president is out at the moment. Do you have an appointment?” the woman asked, opening a tablet and checking the schedule.

“Ah, no—I just happened to be in the area, and… it’s nothing urgent. I can come back later.”

This really isn’t somewhere I should have come, Kuma thought. He turned to leave—but just as he reached the door, a voice stopped him.

“Please wait a moment. May I have your business card? I’ll pass it along to the president.”

He gave an awkward smile. He didn’t have a business card. Of course he didn’t—he was a part-time worker.

“Ah, no… really, it’s fine.”

He stepped toward the door, hand on the knob—just as it swung open wide from the other side. The door smacked him head-on, and he stumbled backward, tripping over a potted plant in the hallway and falling flat on his back.

“Are you all right?!” the receptionist rushed out in a panic.

“I—I’m okay. But the plant…”

His nose stung, and a thin stream of blood trickled out. The receptionist immediately handed him a box of tissues. “Please use this.”

“President! I’ve told you so many times—open the door more gently!”

She yelled toward the man who had just entered—a tanned older guy in an aloha shirt who was now sheepishly holding both hands in front of his face. “Ah, sorry, sorry,” he said, his tone light as a feather.

Kuma had always had sensitive nasal membranes, and the impact had made the bleeding worse than usual. Now, with an ice pack borrowed from the front desk, he lay on the couch in the president’s office, cooling his face.

“‘Hamagiku,’ huh. I’m really sorry, but I don’t remember it,” said the man across from him—Miyako Nobuki, president of Miyako Entertainment. He tilted his head, thinking. It was true—Kuma had only seen him that one time at the shop.

“I didn’t expect you to remember,” Kuma said.

He dabbed his nose with a tissue again, but the bleeding still hadn’t stopped. Maybe it was the heat today, or maybe he was just worked up.

“So what brings a guy from Hamagiku all the way here?” Miyako asked. He didn’t sound annoyed—just curious. That alone was a relief, but it still wasn’t easy to say. If he didn’t explain, though, he’d just be some weird guy who wandered in.

“Hamagiku closed down. So… I’m looking for work.”

Understanding dawned on Miyako’s face. He let out a small “hmm,” his expression troubled. It was only natural. Showing up at someone’s office based on a single business card handed out in passing—of course it was a bit much.

“You look like you’re what, early forties? I get it—it’s tough supporting a family…”

Déjà vu, Kuma thought, unable to stop a wry smile.

“I’m twenty-two.”

Miyako blinked rapidly. Then came the inevitable: “Ehhhhh?!”

He stared for a moment, clearly doubting his own eyes. Then, looking at Kuma’s hairline, he opened his mouth again—and Kuma silently begged him not to say anything.

“B-but still…” Miyako repeated, then crossed his arms and tilted his head.

“Wait… are you that kid who spoke English?”

“Ah, yes,” Kuma nodded.

“Ohh, now it’s coming back to me. Yeah, yeah, you’re that one!”

Miyako nodded vigorously.

“If you can already speak English at your age, there’s got to be plenty of jobs out there for you. Our agency isn’t that big, and we’re not looking for office staff right now…”

So he was going to get turned down. Kuma had expected as much. It wasn’t a surprise. Showing up like this, hoping for something off a business card—that was on him.

“President, excuse me,” someone said as the door opened and a man stepped in.

“Oh, sorry—I didn’t realize you had a guest.”

The man was in a suit, probably around the same age as Miyako. Tall, glasses, with his hair slicked neatly to the side. He had the buttoned-up air of a bank executive—very serious, very proper.

“Is your guest all right? If he needs anything, I can have it arranged right away,” he asked, glancing toward Miyako. He seemed to have noticed Kuma lying down and was trying to be thoughtful.

“Ahh, I think he’s fine. I just happened to open the office door and wham—he was standing right there. Caught him square in the face. Nosebleed city,” Miyako explained casually.

“…I believe I’ve repeatedly asked you to be more careful when opening doors,” the suited man’s voice dropped a tone—definitely annoyed.

“Don’t worry about him. Once the bleeding stops, he’s heading home anyway,” Miyako waved it off lightly.

The way he said it made Kuma’s chest tighten a little. Of course he was leaving… but still.

The suited man glanced at Kuma, then turned back to Miyako. “I had something I wanted to discuss, but shall I come back later?”

“Nah, what’s up? Is it urgent? I’ve got to head out in about thirty minutes.”

Though he seemed concerned about Kuma’s presence, the man cleared his throat and got straight to the point.

“Please assign a new manager to Akizawa. I have other clients, and I won’t be able to accompany him to the Okinawa shoot.”

Miyako scratched the side of his nose, already looking bothered. “He’ll be fine on his own, won’t he? He’s been in the industry for years, knows his way around a set.”

“That’s not the point. He’s got several magazine shoots scheduled for his off-days. If plans shift, he’ll have to handle all the changes himself. An actor should be focused on acting.”

Miyako folded his arms and let out a long hum, clearly reluctant. Kuma, unsure if he should even be listening to all this, simply sat there, struck by how much this sounded like something out of a real talent agency.

“Frankly, managing three new clients on top of Akizawa is beyond what’s reasonable. Since he started appearing in Beyond Us, his workload has multiplied. It’s time we assign him a dedicated manager.”

“A new manager, huh… Oh! Right,” Miyako said, suddenly pointing to Kuma, who was still lying on the sofa.

“What about him? He’s looking for work. Seems like a good fit, doesn’t it?”

The suited man blinked. “This person…?”

Kuma, whose nosebleed had finally stopped, was moved to the reception room—though in truth, it was just a small corner of the office sectioned off by partitions. After passing Kuma’s fate off to the other man, Miyako left the room, breezily calling out, “Okay, I’m heading out!”

The man introduced himself as Numata. He managed several talents under Miyako Entertainment, including Akizawa, and was currently handling multiple newcomers at once.

“I was told you came here today to ask the president for help finding a job. Is that correct?”

Hearing it said so directly made Kuma sweat down his back.

“Yes. I went to Hello Work first, but I didn’t find anything. I… have a bad knee, so I can’t do physically demanding jobs.”

Numata pressed a hand to his chin thoughtfully. “I see. Then would you mind filling this out?”

He handed Kuma a blank résumé. As Kuma started writing, he could feel Numata’s eyes on his hands, which only made his fingers tremble more. He had a bad feeling about this. With just a high school diploma and no qualifications, who would hire him? He hadn’t come here to get a job with the agency—he just thought, maybe, if he explained things, they could point him to a lead somewhere else. That was all. Or so he told himself.

Though deep down, of course, a part of him thought, If it works out, that’d be amazing…

He finished the résumé and handed it over.

“Your handwriting is very neat,” Numata said quietly.

Kuma had taken all kinds of extracurriculars as a child—including calligraphy lessons until the end of elementary school.

“I see you studied abroad in high school?”

“Ah, yes.”

“Did you never consider going to university?”

Kuma hesitated, unsure whether to share, but it wasn’t something that needed hiding.

“In my second year of high school, my father’s business partner took out a loan under the company’s name, embezzled the money, and set fire to the factory. The factory burned down, and we had no means of rebuilding. My father filed for bankruptcy. Even then, there was still debt left. After that, I wasn’t in a position to even think about college. Thankfully, everything’s been resolved now.”

Though of course, that was only thanks to his sister’s husband—someone outside the family.

“I see your first job lasted only eight months?”

“Not exactly by choice—I was laid off. The company downsized and closed several of its factories. I was affected by that. There weren’t any jobs left in my hometown, so I came to Tokyo and tried a bunch of part-time jobs. The izakaya was the one I stuck with the longest. But it just closed yesterday.”

It was one bad turn after another. Numata kept looking over his résumé quietly.

“This might be a bit intrusive, but… what was your salary like at the izakaya?”

Kuma thought he really asks directly, but he answered honestly. The amount wasn’t high. Even when Numata heard it, he showed no sympathy, nor did his expression change.

“Do you know of an actor named Kaito Akizawa?”

“Yes, I do. He was a child actor, right?”

Now that he thought about it, Kuma had heard that name earlier in the conversation between Numata and Miyako.

“I’d like you to work as Kaito Akizawa’s manager. For now, you’ll start by shadowing me for two weeks as a trainee. During that time, we’ll pay you sixty percent of a full-time salary, prorated daily. If I judge that you’re suited for the job, we’ll begin formal employment procedures.”

“Um… does that mean… you’re offering me the job?”

Kuma had to ask, wondering if he’d misheard.

“The two weeks will be a trial period. I’ll be evaluating your fit for the role. Is that acceptable?”

His heart began to pound wildly. He felt a warm trickle rise up his nose. In a panic, he pressed a hand to his face and tilted his head back.

“S-sorry. I think the excitement triggered another nosebleed…”

“Would you like to lie down?”

“S-sorry… again.”

He lay on the sofa. It all felt like a dream. Just a few hours ago, he’d been at Hello Work, filled with despair about tomorrow. Now, he was a potential hire at Miyako Entertainment. It didn’t feel real. He reached up and pinched his cheek—so cliché, but he needed something to confirm this luck was real.

“When your nosebleed stops, you’re free to go for the day. Can you come to the office tomorrow at 8 a.m.? You’ll be spending the day with me.”

Numata stood. Kuma, still holding his nose, blurted out, “Um… Are you sure… I’m the right person for this?”

Numata looked down at him, tilting his head.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I have no qualifications. No degree…”

“Academic background isn’t necessary in this line of work. What matters is common sense, the ability to manage schedules, and how well you can read and respond to the people around you. Looking over your résumé, I see you’ve never left a job voluntarily, and you stuck with a low-paying izakaya for a long time. That shows perseverance. Your language is polite, your handwriting is clean, and you wore a suit to your job search—those things left a very good impression. Akizawa is considering expanding into overseas work. In that case, having a manager who speaks English will be essential. I believe you’re the right fit. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I still have some work to do,” Numata said, and left the reception room. Alone, Kuma felt a slow wave of joy begin to rise—so strong he nearly shouted, but he managed to keep it in. After about ten minutes, once his nosebleed had finally stopped, he stepped out of the room. He wanted to thank Numata before leaving, but he was nowhere in sight. According to the receptionist, he’d already stepped out on business.

It was past seven when Kuma exited the office. The rain had stopped, but the streets were pitch-dark. He headed straight to a convenience store and withdrew some cash. Then, just before closing time, he rushed into a discount menswear shop and bought a new suit, two shirts, a pair of shoes, and a lightweight nylon business bag with a cross-body strap. The total—29,800 yen—was one of the biggest purchases he’d made in years, but he didn’t regret it for a second.

He had never spent so much on himself in one go since he started working. Carrying his shopping bags, he boarded the train. Near the station, he stopped at a 1,000-yen barbershop and had them tidy up his thinning hair as best they could. He was going to be a talent manager now. He couldn’t change his height or weight or how much hair he had left—but at the very least, he didn’t want to look sloppy.

Once home, he got everything ready for tomorrow, then pulled out his smartphone and searched for Kaito Akizawa. He had debuted as a child actor and gone on to star in numerous films thanks to his extraordinary acting talent, even winning multiple Japanese film awards. Then there was some dispute with a director… The small screen made the text hard to read. If he was going to manage someone’s schedule, maybe he really did need to buy a computer.

It was strange. Just hours ago, the idea of buying a computer had never even crossed his mind. He’d been dropped into an entirely new world—and the thrill of it still hadn’t faded. He would make it through the two-week trial. He had to. He wanted to.

His phone buzzed with an incoming call—it was his sister.

“Hey, Onii-chan, how are you doing?”

In the background, he could hear his little nephew Tomoya crying.

“Yeah, I’m good. What’s up?”

“Oh, I was just wondering what you were up to.”

He had already told her that the izakaya closed, so she was probably worried.

“So, um… I mentioned this before, but… if you’re okay with it, Mamoru said he’d be happy if you came back and helped out at the company.”

She was trying her hardest to be considerate—offering a lifeline to her unemployed older brother. Before today, that suggestion would have depressed him. He would’ve thought, So even my job has to come from my sister? He might’ve even said yes and gone back home. But if he had, if he had taken a job through her connections in the countryside, he would never have been able to shake the feeling that he’d been taken care of.

“Sorry, but I think I’ve already got something lined up.”

“Really? That’s great!”

Her voice lit up instantly.

“I’ve only ever worked part-time, so I didn’t think I’d ever get a full-time position. But starting tomorrow, I’ll be on a trial period for two weeks. If I do well, they said they’ll take me on full-time.”

“So it starts with training, huh. You’ll be fine, I know it. You’re smart, and you’ve always been so responsible. So… what kind of job is it?”

It wasn’t official yet. Still, he wanted to say it—just a little.

“…A talent manager at an entertainment agency.”

Silence on the other end. Then, in a sudden burst: “That’s amazing! Amazing! Amazing! Wait, really? A talent agency?! Not a joke? How do you even get into something like that?!”

“There was this customer at the izakaya—the agency president. I guess it was a lucky connection.”

“Wow… stuff like that really happens? Tokyo’s on a different level…”

“Hey—don’t tell Mom and Dad yet, okay? I want to tell them myself once the trial’s over and I’m officially in.”

“Okay, okay,” she said over and over, nodding audibly. Then came the next question, excited and rapid-fire:

“So who works at this agency? What kind of celebrities are signed with them?”

“…Kaito Akizawa,” Kuma said.

His sister squealed. “Kyaaa!”

“I know him! He’s the guy who got all that buzz from the winter drama, right? Everyone says he’s crazy talented! Onii-chan, this is seriously amazing!”

With his sister praising him over and over, Kuma ended the call in high spirits. Talking to her had only strengthened his determination. That night, he was so excited he could barely sleep.

The next morning, he arrived at the office five minutes early. Numata, waiting as though he'd expected this punctuality, immediately introduced him to a young actor. The three of them then headed for a television studio. They drove there in a car that Numata himself was driving. At the front desk, they received guest passes, and Kuma stepped into a “shooting studio” for the first time in his life.

Just two days ago, he’d been working part-time in an izakaya. Now, here he was, standing on the fringe of the entertainment industry—it still didn’t feel real.

Actors he’d seen on TV were casually walking down the hallway and just passing them made his body tense with nerves. The actor Numata was managing made his rounds, going room to room to greet senior actors. Kuma just observed quietly. There were several faces he recognized but couldn’t recall the names of. If the actor I’m assigned to ends up in a drama, he thought, I’ll need to at least memorize the names and faces of the co-stars. No—he should know the producers, the director, and ideally even the main staff.

Right now, Numata was there. But once he was on his own, he couldn’t be caught saying, “I don’t know who that is.” Kuma didn’t watch much TV, but that would have to change. From now on, it was his job to know.

Fortunately, he had a knack for remembering customers’ names and faces during his izakaya days.

Even just shadowing as a trainee, there was so much to learn. The list of things he should do grew longer and longer with every passing minute. He jotted them down in his notebook, determined not to forget.

Numata, meanwhile, said almost nothing—clearly intentional. It was likely his way of saying watch and learn. A test. Kuma tried to absorb every detail, not missing even the smallest things. By noon, his head was already so full it ached.

By 6 p.m., the young actor’s job for the day was done. They dropped him off at his apartment, then headed back to the office. Kuma’s shirt was soaked through with sweat. He’d need to get it cleaned daily. In the summer, he’d need at least two more shirts to rotate through.

“So, how was your first day?” Numata asked quietly as he drove.

“Being a manager is… hard. You really have to remember everyone’s names and faces. And the shoot didn’t go by the schedule at all. It looks like schedule management is going to be tough.”

Numata nodded slightly, a faint smile forming at the corners of his mouth. “That’s right.”

When they returned to the office, a man was standing near the desk that had been prepared for Kuma. He wore a black T-shirt and jeans, stood close to 190 centimeters (6’2”) tall, and had impossibly long legs. His head was small, his nose high, and his eyes and mouth were perfectly balanced—striking. Anyone looking at him, regardless of their personal taste, would have to admit: he’s beautiful.

He must be one of the agency’s actors, Kuma thought. But is he really the same species as me? That level of beauty didn’t seem human. The man looked in his direction. Their eyes met. And in that instant, Kuma felt so unsure of how he was being seen, it made him freeze.

“You’re late, Dad,” the beautiful man said as he walked toward Numata and complained.

Kuma flicked his eyes between the two of them—back and forth. Dad…? So he was Numata’s son? But… they looked nothing alike.

“I texted you I’d be late,” Numata replied.

“Well, if you’re gonna make someone come all the way here, don’t show up late. That’s just basic decency, y’know?”

The handsome man’s expression twisted into a frown. The atmosphere between him and Numata was sharp with tension. Wondering if he should try to diffuse it, Kuma played dumb and asked, “Numata-san, is he your son?”

“Yes,” Numata replied. “He’s an actor affiliated with Miyako Entertainment. He primarily works in film and stage under the name Kaito Akizawa.”

Kaito Akizawa! The name hit him like a bolt. Kuma stared at the man’s face in astonishment. Now that he looked more closely, he could just barely trace the resemblance to the child actor he used to see on TV. Numata had mentioned wanting him to manage Akizawa. This was the person he might be working for.

Back in school, if there had been someone like Akizawa in his class, Kuma probably would’ve hesitated to even speak to him—overwhelmed by how cool he was. But this wasn’t school anymore. This was work.

“The reason I called you here is simple,” Numata said. “I wanted to introduce you to someone. This is Kumama Yuki.”

Akizawa narrowed his eyes and gave Kuma a fleeting glance.

“I won’t be able to accompany you to the Okinawa shoot next month,” Numata continued. “So starting the week after next, I’m planning to assign him as your manager.”

A crease formed between Akizawa’s brows, and his mouth tightened into a sharp line. He clearly wasn’t happy. Is it because I’m younger? Or just because I look unreliable? Kuma wondered. If Akizawa didn’t like him, there was a real chance he wouldn’t be hired at all.

“Introduce yourself,” Numata said.

Akizawa didn’t speak. But Kuma couldn’t falter now—not when his entire future was on the line.

“A-ah… I’m Kuma. I look forward to working with you.”

Akizawa looked him over slowly—from the top of his head to the tips of his shoes—his eyes cold and dismissive.

“I don’t want some bald old guy as my manager.”

The words hit Kuma like arrows, landing with a thud in his chest. He couldn’t respond. It was true—he was balding, and he did look older than he was. There was nothing to argue.

“Don’t say something so rude,” Numata snapped. “Kuma-san is younger than you.”

“Don’t lie!” Akizawa shot back, jabbing a finger at Kuma in disbelief.

 

“You look the same age as Dad,” Akizawa shot back.

Kuma wordlessly pulled out his wallet, extracted his driver’s license—which by now served purely as ID—and held it out. Akizawa snatched it from his hand, brought it close to his face, and squinted as he compared the photo to the real thing, glaring intensely at Kuma.

“…Is this license wrong or something?”

There was no saving this moment. Eventually, Numata’s patience snapped. “Don’t be ridiculous. Apologize for what you just said,” he barked, swatting his rude son on the back.

Still pouting, Akizawa muttered, “Sorry,” without looking the least bit sorry. Kuma had expected him to be cold and unreachable, but maybe he was just… simple. Crude, even.

“I mean, you can’t blame me for getting it wrong,” Akizawa mumbled. “The guy totally looks like a middle-aged baldy.”

Having the words baldy and old man thrown at him repeatedly by a pretty boy was starting to hurt. Maybe Akizawa didn’t want someone with his looks tagging along beside him. Kuma couldn’t change his height, but his body and hair—there was still some hope there.

“If you don’t like how I look, I’ll do what I can—get hair restoration for the bangs, lose some weight. That might make it a bit less… off-putting.”

He tried to offer a solution—but Akizawa snapped back, “I don’t give a crap about your bald head!”

But you just said you hated having a balding old man for a manager, Kuma thought. So what is it? What exactly do you hate?

“I told you, I don’t want anyone but Dad as my manager! I’ve been saying that forever!”

He practically spit the words, shoving his face toward Numata in frustration.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m too busy to be with you on-site,” Numata said calmly.

“Then assign your other guys to this guy and you come with me!”

“I can’t just dump several rising talents onto someone with no experience. You, on the other hand, are used to working in television and film. Besides, I’m still choosing your projects. I’m not stepping away entirely. I just can’t be with you at every shoot.”

From the way the argument was going, it was clear the issue wasn’t that Kuma looked like an aging, balding man. Akizawa simply didn’t want to lose Numata as his manager. That was all.

“I’ve told you—I want you, Dad!”

“At this point in your career, you should be able to handle any manager. I’ve been too indulgent with you.”

“Indulgent? What does that mean?!”

It had devolved into a full-on father-son fight. Kuma knew enough to keep his mouth shut. This was family business, and outsiders didn’t butt in.

To be honest, he didn’t see himself getting along with Akizawa at all. But still—he needed this job. He wanted to be hired. He needed stability. He needed a real, full-time career.

“…Akizawa-san,” Kuma said.

The actor whipped around with force, glaring daggers. The intensity in those eyes—he really was an actor. It was terrifying. But Kuma stood his ground.

“If it’s that unpleasant for me to be your manager… then how about this: we say the official manager is Numata-san, and I work as your assistant. That way, I’ll just be supporting from the side.”

“Assistant…?” Akizawa repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. Not your manager. Just an assistant.”

Kuma made sure to emphasize it. Akizawa fell silent, pressing a hand to his chin as he thought. Kuma quickly glanced at Numata, wondering if he had overstepped—naming himself assistant without permission. But Numata simply gave a small nod, as if to say, Well played.

“So… you’re not my manager?” Akizawa repeated, narrowing his eyes, making absolutely sure.

“Yes, an assistant.”

It was just a difference in title—he’d probably still be doing all the work of a manager.

“…If you’re not my manager but my assistant, I guess that’s fine.”

The moment Kuma heard that, relief flooded through him—along with the inescapable thought: This guy’s kind of an idiot.

“Kuma-san is close to you in age,” Numata added. “I’m sure he’ll be able to relate to you more like a friend.”

“Friend?” Akizawa muttered, glancing over at Kuma.

He repeated the word several times—“Friend… huh, a friend…”—turning it over in his mouth. Then, as if something clicked, he grinned widely. The same guy who had just been mocking Kuma as an old man now looked genuinely pleased.

“Well then, I’m older, so that makes me the senior here. You’d better start calling me Akizawa-san.”

A grown man, saying something so absurdly juvenile—it was almost impressive. Kuma watched him with the kind of stillness reserved for handling wild animals. This man was simple, immature… and for the first time, just a little—just a little—Kuma felt the stirrings of a bad feeling in his gut.

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