COLD THE FINAL: Chapter 8

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COLD HEART – Kuma WORKS 2

"You're still here, Kuma-san?"

Called out by Eguchi at the reception desk, Kuma lifted his face from the computer monitor. It was already past eight. At some point, half the lights in the Miyako Entertainment office had been turned off, leaving the room dim.

Even though it was already September, the heat hadn’t let up at all. Just walking outside during the day turned you into a human sprinkler, sweat bursting from your skin. But once the sun went down, the air finally started to cool. It wasn’t like the suffocating nights of midsummer anymore.

Loosening the necktie he’d kept neatly knotted, Kuma let out a small sigh.

“I’ll just stay a bit longer. I haven’t finished building the schedule yet.”

“You really are such a diligent worker, Kuma-san,” Eguchi murmured.

She wore a simple white short-sleeved top and a teal-blue pencil skirt, a neat and appropriate outfit for a receptionist, which suited her perfectly. Despite her youthful appearance, Eguchi was thirty-five this year. Kuma had once harbored a faint crush on her, partly because she was beautiful and didn’t wear a wedding ring—only to have it crushed when he found out she was already married. Her husband, an Italian restaurant chef, was a ruggedly handsome man with a well-suited beard, a photo Eguchi had proudly shown him. His one-sided affection had shattered in less than a week.

At Miyako Entertainment, Eguchi was the only female employee. Everyone else—actors, managers, office staff—was male. Since all their talent was male, he’d assumed they just naturally hired male managers too. But at a company drinking party last year, one of the veteran actors let him in on the real reason: "It’s because the president can’t keep his hands off women. His wife won’t allow any more female employees. Eguchi-chan’s the exception—she’s his niece."

"Our president might be easygoing to a fault, but thanks to solid guys like Numata-san and Kuma-san keeping things together, the world somehow keeps turning," Eguchi commented with a laugh.

Kumama thought her words were a bit blunt, but honestly, the president being lax was nothing new.

"Still, he's generous. He lets us do whatever we want," Kumama said.

"Basically, he leaves everything alone. Always out drinking. Claims he's building connections, but who knows how true that really is," Eguchi said with a wry smile, sharp-tongued probably because of her familial connection to the president. After leaving him with those words, she gathered her things and went home.

Not wanting to leave the office running for just himself, Kuma shut off the air conditioning and opened the window closest to his desk. The breeze brushing his cheek was cool and pleasant.

It had been five years since he started at the talent agency, and he’d grown fully comfortable in the manager role. To be honest, he loved the job. Just last month, he’d spent two full months in Los Angeles accompanying their actor, Kaito Akizawa. The company footed the bill, and even if it was for work, he got to go abroad. He saw world-famous actors up close on set. The dream he once had—of using his English in a real job—had, before he knew it, actually come true.

Sometimes, he still felt like he was dreaming. That random night in the izakaya, meeting President Miyako… he couldn’t feel anything but gratitude for that moment. It had been just a single business card that took him from some audacious, unemployed ex-bartender to a full-time employee. The president's lighthearted spontaneity was, in hindsight, part of the miracle.

Soaking in that sense of fulfillment, Kuma focused on adjusting Kaito Akizawa’s schedule.

Originally, Akizawa's manager had been his father, Numata. Kuma had entered the scene as an assistant, since Akizawa had refused to let go of his father’s presence. But over time, Kuma gradually stepped up. His title became provisional manager—and then, last year, the "(provisional)" finally disappeared. He was now, officially, Akizawa’s manager.

Around the same time the label was dropped, Numata had entrusted him with selecting Akizawa’s jobs. These days, Kuma would first sift through the offers, then sit down with Akizawa to decide what to accept. He thought long and hard about which opportunities would benefit Akizawa most. In a way, their relationship was like that of a pitcher and catcher. The game never ends—as long as Akizawa keeps playing the part of an actor.

He would squeeze smaller jobs like magazine interviews or event appearances into the open gaps in Akizawa’s schedule. Magazines were usually willing to adjust to their availability, and since they helped with promotion, Kuma tried to fit in as many as he could. But he also had to be careful—not to overbook to the point where Akizawa would become exhausted. Balancing everything was crucial.

While engrossed in the almost choreographed task of piecing together the schedule, nine o'clock had passed. Tomorrow’s shoot wouldn’t start until the afternoon, so the morning would be relatively free. One good thing about being a manager was that if he needed a day off, he could adjust his schedule accordingly. No one would complain if he showed up late or left early. Of course, he felt the weight of responsibility that came with being trusted to manage everything, but at the same time, he was genuinely happy to have that trust.

Once he had a rough outline of the week’s schedule, he decided to wrap up. Before leaving, Kuma settled into his usual routine of checking the internet. Akizawa wasn’t on social media—Kuma had made that call early on, deeming it a bad fit for him—so there were no fears of scandals from careless posts.

He sent polite thank-you replies to the messages that had come through the official site. Then, when he opened the unofficial fan group’s page, he noticed an unusual spike in posts. Up until yesterday, the activity level had been normal. Wondering what was going on, he started scrolling through the comments—and as he read, a cold sweat slowly broke out across his forehead.

Someone had posted that they had seen Akizawa at an adult toy shop, buying a pair of handcuff-style restraints.
Apparently, a friend of one of the regular posters had happened to spot him. Comments followed in quick succession:

“If it’s Akky, I could totally see it. He does give off sadist vibes.”

(Akizawa was often called “Akky” in the fan space.)

“He’s way too perfect for that image. Please stop, I’m dying.”

“Are we sure this isn’t a fake? Some random friend’s “eyewitness account” sounds like crap.”

“Didn’t Akky’s lover die? But he’s still out there buying gear for handcuff-play? Ugh. Disillusioned.”

Some fans found it amusing, others doubted it, and a few were clearly disheartened. After skimming through the whole thread, Kuma closed the laptop and dropped his elbows onto the desk, thinking.

He needed to think about what to do. First, he had to confirm whether the story was true. If it was a lie, best to ignore it. There was no photographic evidence, and a single, vague sighting would likely blow over. But if it was true… well, that was a different story. Of course, there was nothing wrong with a grown man buying toys for that kind of play. Normally. But Akizawa wasn’t a normal case—he was a public figure, one whose image mattered. He’d already appeared in a promotional poster for CRUX looking gaunt and bruised, naked, which had cemented his reputation as an eccentric actor. That gave him some leeway—he wasn’t selling himself on polished charm and squeaky cleanliness—but still, adult toys left a bad impression no matter what. It wasn’t that Kuma wanted to tell him not to buy them. If he wanted them, he should at least order them online, or go in disguise. He needed to make sure he didn’t get caught.

But handcuffs—of all things, handcuffs. If he really had bought them, what was he planning to use them for? The thought made Kuma uneasy, and he forcibly shut down that entire line of speculation.

For now, he decided, he needed to verify the facts. He picked up his smartphone and called Akizawa. Earlier today, they had parted at the studio after a film shoot wrapped up around 5 p.m. If all went well, they weren’t scheduled to see each other again until the next afternoon, when Kuma would pick him up from his apartment. After five rings, the call connected.

“Sorry for calling this late. It’s Kuma.”

“Ah, yeah, hey. What’s up?”

He could hear loud music in the background—rowdy, unmistakably the atmosphere of a club or a noisy bar. Akizawa must have gone out somewhere.

“I just had one thing I needed to check,” Kuma said. “Do you have a moment?”

“Ah, I’m at the checkout right now. Will it be quick?”

“In that case… I’ll call you back in five minutes.”

He hung up, waited five minutes exactly, and called again.

This time, Akizawa answered with a quiet mutter, “I’m out of the store, riding in a taxi now,” followed by a faint yawn.

“Apologies for disturbing you again. The reason I’m calling is, well… it’s awkward to ask, but—Akizawa-san, did you recently shop at an adult store?”

He wasn’t the type to get nuance, so Kuma decided to just cut straight to the point.

“Kuma, are you having me followed or something?”

“What?” Kuma blurted out, unable to stop himself.

“I just came from one of those stores. Picked up a bunch of stuff.”

Kuma sat frozen, phone in hand. The SNS rumor, as if it had been sealed with a confirmation stamp, now felt unmistakably real.

“…Sorry, but could you come to the office right now?”

“The office? …Sure, but why?”

“Strategy meeting.” Kuma’s voice was dead serious.

At the Miyako Entertainment reception room, three types of adult toys were lined up neatly on the table. One was a pair of pink furry handcuffs, looking more fashionable than functional. Another was a simple old-fashioned pair of metal handcuffs, the kind a detective might carry. And the last item—of all things—was a coil of rough rope.

Across the table, Akizawa fanned his neck with his newsboy cap, complaining, "Isn’t the AC on in here?" while Kuma, arms crossed and sweating profusely, stared at the scene before him. If it had just been the handcuffs, it could have been brushed off as part of the soft SM category. But rough rope... rough rope was far too serious.

Maybe they could say he had bought it for research, for an upcoming role in an erotic film. But no such offer had come in. And besides, they didn’t even know whether the fans had actually caught him clearly or not. If they carelessly put out a statement like, "He’s studying for a role with rope," it would only make things worse. It would be pure self-destruction.

Setting that aside, Kuma couldn’t help but wonder—how exactly did Akizawa plan to use those items? Of course, if he had a consenting partner, it was none of Kuma’s business how they chose to play... but still.

Last month, after wrapping up filming in Los Angeles, Akizawa had flown to New York to shoot next season’s advertisement campaign for CRUX, the brand for which he served as an image model. The shoot finished much earlier than expected, and Kuma, having some free time, invited Akizawa to see a stage play featuring an acquaintance of his. The following evening, while Kuma was busy stuffing the souvenirs he had bought for his sister and nephew into his suitcase, Akizawa casually wandered into his room.

"I want to spend the rest of my vacation here in New York," he said. "Can you change my flight?"

At once, Kuma felt a deep sense of dread. New York was where Akizawa’s ex- boyfriend lived. Being this close again might have reignited those old feelings, making him want to trail after the man like some kind of stalker.

Akizawa still hadn’t been able to let go. Every day, he sent apology cards to his former boyfriend. Cards weren’t weapons; if the recipient simply threw them away without reading them, they caused no harm, so Kuma had sometimes agreed to mail them on Akizawa’s behalf. But if it were him, he thought, receiving letter after letter from someone he had already broken up with, he would be utterly repulsed. The only reason he could continue working with Akizawa was because he respected him as an actor; take that professional brilliance away, and Akizawa was just a childish, troublesome man with a stalker’s temperament.

"Why the sudden change of plans?" Kuma asked.

"Because I want to be with Masahiko," Akizawa said without the slightest hesitation or shame.

Of course. Kuma had suspected as much. He was planning to chase after the very person who had already rejected him.

"You’re talking about Masahiko Kusuda, right? Didn’t you decide you wouldn’t see him again?"

"I did, but..." Akizawa trailed off, looking somewhat guilty.

"I think he’s about to forgive me. I want to be by his side," he said, his voice hopeful.

"Akizawa-san, he dumped you," Kuma reminded him bluntly, trying to hammer the reality into him.

"But it feels like we could start over."

"You were dumped," Kuma repeated firmly.

No matter how many times he said it, Akizawa clung stubbornly to the single hope that they could reconcile.

"I talked with Masahiko properly," Akizawa insisted.

But he was a man prone to interpreting things in the most convenient way for himself. It was entirely possible that he had twisted Kusuda’s words into something they weren’t. If he let Akizawa stay in New York like this, it would only cause more trouble for Masahiko. And if, God forbid, something escalated into an incident, it would be Kuma’s responsibility for failing to intervene.

Reluctantly, Kuma agreed to Akizawa’s demand and arranged to change his flight. Once Akizawa left the room, Kuma immediately called CRUX’s New York office.

After three rings, someone picked up. Judging by the voice, it was probably a secretary. Kuma spoke in English, careful and clear: "Hello, this is Kuma at Miyako Entertainment Company. May I speak to Mr. Kusuda, please?"

To his surprise, the person on the other end replied smoothly in Japanese, "Are you Japanese?"

"Ah, yes," Kuma answered, startled.

"This is Kusuda speaking. How can I help you?"

Hearing the man's voice—no, not just a man, but the man, the boyfriend, the ex, or whatever he was—threw Kuma into a panic. His hands began to tremble.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you," Kuma said, his voice stiff. "My name is Kuma, and I’m Kaito Akizawa’s manager."

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a short, neutral “Ah, yes.”

“Akizawa was scheduled to return to Japan tomorrow, but he suddenly decided he’d like to spend the rest of his vacation here in New York. That in itself isn’t a problem, but… well, I was worried he might be causing you some trouble…”

Avoiding direct words like ex-boyfriend, ex-lover, or stalker made the explanation hopelessly vague.

“…It’s not that he’s… a nuisance, exactly.”

Kusuda’s voice was quiet—so quiet it made Kuma worry. Was Akizawa threatening him? Was this a hostage situation?

“Please, be honest with me. If he’s being difficult or making unreasonable demands, I’ll personally drag him back to Japan with a leash around his neck.”

At that, the line went silent again.

“Please don’t worry. I’ve been informed of your history with Akizawa to some degree, and I hold no prejudice toward same-sex relationships. I just want to make sure no harm comes to either of you.”

“…What exactly did Akizawa tell you?” Kusuda asked in a low voice.

“That… that he thinks the two of you can reconcile, so he wants to stay behind.”

Another pause followed.

“Please,” Kuma said, voice firm but gentle, “please don’t hesitate to be honest with me.”

“I’ll be fine.” The reply came clearly, followed by a softer, barely audible, “Probably.”

“There were… a lot of things in the past,” Kusuda added, “but I think maybe Akizawa has changed, compared to how he used to be.”

The quiet determination in his voice made Kuma feel as if the words stuck in his throat. But he forced himself to continue. “If anything troubling happens, please contact me right away. I’ll be back in Japan soon, so I might not be able to help immediately, but I’ll do whatever I can.”

Kusuda replied with, “I’m sorry for the trouble, and thank you for your concern.”

“No, not at all,” Kuma said, quickly responding.

“No, really—thank you,” Kusuda repeated, and the call ended.

Up until now, Masahiko Kusuda had only existed in Kuma’s mind as “the ex who told Akizawa he was dead to escape him.” For all that powerful story, he had been a vague, blurry figure, and Kuma had vaguely imagined someone eccentric—someone akin to Akizawa himself.

But the impression he got from the phone call was the exact opposite. “Quiet. Level-headed. Normal in every sense.” A man of calm sensibilities and ordinary reason.

The man Akizawa had loved so desperately was still in New York. They were finally on the verge of reconciling; the other side seemed willing to accept him again. And yet... who was Akizawa planning to use those toys with?

Personal matters like dating and breaking up were none of Kuma’s business. Even if Akizawa was rekindling things with his ex while also fooling around with someone else here, as his manager, Kuma had no right to interfere. Still, he couldn’t stay silent.

“This isn’t as a manager—I’m asking as a friend.” Kuma kept his tone steady.

Akizawa tilted his head curiously.

“Who exactly are you planning to use those toys with?”

“Who…?” Akizawa echoed, confused.

“You’re not using them with Kusuda-san, right? He’s in New York.”

At that, Akizawa shook his head so quickly he looked like a dog shaking off water. “No way I’d use them on Masahiko. If I did, he’d definitely throw me out for good.”

Even for someone as oblivious as Akizawa, he at least understood that pushing things physically with a partner who was just beginning to accept him again was absolutely off-limits.

“Then if not Kusuda-san—who?”

"...Do I really have to say it?" Akizawa mumbled, slumping back against the sofa in defeat. It wasn’t hard to understand why he would be reluctant to admit the name of an affair when he was still desperate to rebuild things with his ex.

“Personally, I think cheating is wrong,” he said, unable to hold back the comment. “You’re finally reconnecting with Kusuda-san, aren’t you? If he found out, it’d be a disaster.”

“I’m not cheating,” Akizawa pouted, hugging one of the sofa cushions to his chest. “I haven’t slept with anyone since I heard Masahiko was dead.”

…Back when Kuma first started assisting Akizawa, he’d been warned by Numata that Akizawa had a bad track record with women. During their first job together—an Okinawa location shoot—Kuma had been welcomed to the reality of the situation by a scandalous fling with an actress. But after that, there hadn’t been any rumors of romantic drama around him. Maybe he’d been too broken over Masahiko’s death to even think about sex.

No—wait. Come to think of it, by the time of that Okinawa trip, Akizawa had already been dating Masahiko. So that affair with the actress was cheating. Only now does Kuma process that and think: What a piece of shit.

Maybe, now that reconciliation was in sight, his old bad habits were creeping back in.

“Akizawa-san, even if the other person doesn’t know about it, if you truly care for someone, you need to stay faithful.”

He couldn’t help slipping into lecture mode. Akizawa frowned, his lips pursing. “I told you, it’s not cheating. That stuff—it’s for me.”

Me… Me? Kuma froze. You’re going to use them… on yourself? Could it be some kind of self-restraint kink—self-bondage? No, no, no. This was getting dangerously close to violating Akizawa’s personal boundaries.

If he was tying himself up, then there was no partner, no one else involved, and no real harm done—so it’s technically not an issue… But it was still… strange. No, more than strange. It was downright weird. He was already eccentric enough, and now he had this quirk on top of it?

“…Didn’t you buy something similar a while back too?” Kuma asked, cautious.

Akizawa jolted upright in alarm. “How the hell do you know that? Are you stalking me?”

You’re one to talk, Kuma thought with a sigh.

“Someone saw you at the adult store and posted about it online.”

“Man, the internet is scary,” Akizawa muttered.

“That one I bought last time broke after one use. Total crap, couldn’t even handle basic tension.”

So that’s why he bought new ones in multiple varieties. Just how much are you into this…?

“I’m not saying you can’t buy these things,” Kuma began, trying to sound as diplomatic as possible. “But… you do have a public image. I’d appreciate it if you could either wear a disguise or order online next time.”

“Ugh, disguises are such a pain. Oh—wait! I’ve got a four-day break next month, right?”

Akizawa abruptly shifted the topic. But that kind of abruptness was just part of how he talked, so Kuma didn’t think much of it.

“I remember you said you wanted a break that wasn’t just one or two days scattered here and there, so I made the adjustments accordingly.”

“Cool. I’m gonna go to New York.”

He looked thrilled, like a kid before a field trip. He was probably going to see Kusuda. Kuma still had concerns—is this really okay?—but there was no point in trying to stop him, and Kusuda seemed to be on board anyway.

“Understood,” Kuma replied.

“Also… think I can take these toys with me to the States?”

Kuma froze. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, I wanna put them in my suitcase. Do you think they’ll stop me at customs?”

“…That, I honestly couldn’t say.”

Why on earth would you bring those to America? Weren’t you not using them on Kusuda? Or… was this about wanting to show Kusuda yourself, tied up? Is that what this is about?

Kuma couldn't begin to understand these sexual preferences. He genuinely couldn’t. And now he was starting to wonder: Was Akizawa’s kink part of why they broke up in the first place? When he’d spoken with Kusuda over the phone, Kuma had sensed a kind of quiet resolve from him. And now he had to wonder if that resolve had been Kusuda’s way of saying, Yes, I know exactly what kind of man I’m taking back. I’m doing this with my eyes open.

Feeling a strange mix of sympathy and awe for Kusuda, Kuma sighed and offered a vague, likely useless bit of advice: “Well… I think, when it comes to these kinds of things, ordinary is usually best.”

Akizawa just tilted his head, looking puzzled.

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