COLD HEART in NEWYORK: 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 including r*pe. 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 TOKYO. In case you haven't read it, check out the Table of Content.

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It had barely rained at all in June, and even after July began, the skies remained clear. The weather forecast repeated the phrase “dry rainy season” like a mantra. The harsh sunlight scorched the asphalt until it felt like a griddle, radiating residual heat well into the evening. The oppressive heat added a good twenty percent more fatigue to everything, and for Masahiko Kusuda, the only thing keeping him going was the thought of a hot shower and a cold beer.

The moment he opened the door, a cool draft brushed against the back of his neck, quickly pulling the sweat out of his pores. In the entryway sat a pair of scuffed leather shoes that weren’t his, kicked off haphazardly in a V shape. Down the hallway, socks, pants, and a shirt were strewn about—little mounds of clothing dotting the floor like shed skin.

“Is he a snake or something?”

Grumbling, Kusuda scooped up the clothes and chucked them into the laundry basket. On the living room table, a crumpled PET bottle and a half-eaten cup of instant noodles—complete with disposable chopsticks stuck inside—sat with a self-importance that made him sigh in disgust. No matter how many times he told him, the guy never remembered to clean up after himself.

He nudged the toppled-over tote bag—one the guy always carried—out from under the sofa with his foot, then gathered the trash and carried it to the kitchen. While he was at it, he grabbed a beer from the fridge and chugged it on the spot. The cold carbonation seeped into his worn-out body, and he exhaled a blissful puhhh as the relief sank in.

Today, in addition to making his rounds outside, he’d delivered a product—one that had been specially requested—directly to a client’s store. The forecasted high of thirty-eight degrees Celsius had turned out to be even more brutal than expected. After visiting three different stores and returning to the office, he’d been drenched in sweat. Apparently, the stench had gotten bad enough that the office clerk, Miyamoto, had laughed awkwardly and said, “You smell like a high schooler after club activities.”

He wanted to take a shower and freshen up as soon as possible. As he stepped into the bedroom to grab a change of clothes, the temperature drop hit him—like he’d walked into the Arctic Circle.

There, in the middle of a double bed that had mysteriously been replaced without his knowledge and now took up half the room, lay a raised lump. The contents of that snakeskin: Kaito Akizawa. Kusuda gingerly lifted the sheet.

The upper half of Akizawa’s body was lying face-down, bare. A bad feeling crept over him, and as he peeled back more of the sheet, a pale, naked ass came into view—and with it, despair.

He had just told him two nights ago not to sleep naked. Akizawa had even said “okay.” And yet, he’d already forgotten. Like a stupid dog, he repeated the same infuriating behavior over and over again. Just think about it—your junk rubbing all over the bedsheets. How was he supposed to deal with that? He’d already had to change the sheets every single time, and it was pushing him to the edge.

And on top of being naked, the guy smelled. Leaning in to sniff confirmed it—ripe with the sour funk of sweat. This guy hadn’t showered since getting home. Unbelievable.

Kusuda stripped off his own clothes right there and slid into bed in nothing but his underwear, right next to Akizawa. No point in showering if he’d just end up sleeping beside this walking sweat bomb. If he stank too, at least it wouldn’t piss him off as much.

Turning his back to Akizawa, he hugged his pillow tightly. As the buzz from the beer settled in, Kusuda's consciousness slipped straight into the comfort of sleep, like he’d fallen off a cliff into a soft, warm abyss.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

...The world is swaying. No—that’s not it. It’s him who’s swaying. And somehow, it feels good. Sway, sway, sway… rocked by the motion, Masahiko Kusuda slowly opened his eyes. The room was dim, the sheets gently rippling as if faintly glowing pale white. Morning had come.

He was lying face-down, and yet his body was still moving, rocking back and forth. A syrupy kind of pleasure and pressure in his lower half. What... is this?

Something slick rubbed deep inside him. The moment he became aware of it, he was yanked forward with force, a thud of impact slamming up from within.

“Ah—”

The thrusts came fast and hard, and heat bloomed deep inside. He twisted his neck with difficulty to see behind him.

“Morning,”

Akizawa said with a breezy smile and, with that, thrust even harder. The moment Kusuda understood that they were connected in the back, he could only think—you’ve got to be kidding. He hadn’t taken a bath last night. No, it wasn’t even about that—this bastard, again...

“Ah… nn—”

Whatever was inside him twisted and hit just the right spot. His own penis was already half-erect, swaying with the motion. It felt good… but it wasn’t okay. Not at all okay. He’d told him so many times—don’t start having sex while someone’s asleep.

“...St...op...”

Even as the words left his mouth, a gentle ripple of pleasure spread through his whole body.

“...Get out...”

“Are you sure you want me to?” Akizawa whispered, gripping the half-hard member between Kusuda’s legs.

“Hi-aah—”

The intense stimulation made him clench around it, and near his ear, he was scolded, “If you squeeze like that, it’s too tight.” He’s the worst, Kusuda thought, and yet stopped resisting—even verbally. His head was still foggy from just waking up, and the waves of pleasure swept him away.

Even after it was over, Akizawa didn’t pull out, pressing his sweaty body insistently against him. After getting so worked up first thing in the morning and tangling like that, Kusuda’s entire body felt heavy. He was used to sex with Akizawa, but it wasn’t like he was on the giving end—being forcefully opened and made to take it in a place that normally didn’t see any use was bound to wear him down. It wasn’t as simple as just getting off and being done.

He finally scooted to the edge of the bed to go take a shower, but just as he was about to stand, arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him back down.

“Where are you going?”

“To rinse off this sweat.”

“Don’t go.”

Akizawa’s right hand slipped into Kusuda’s bush, softly cradling his scrotum. Kusuda gave the hopelessly horny hand a light smack and pulled it away.

“I don’t want to stay all gross and sweaty.”

“Then let’s shower together.”

He just wanted to take a quiet shower by himself, so he refused with a blunt, “No.” But Akizawa begged—“Please, please,”—until Kusuda finally gave in.

This guy devoured food from other people’s homes without asking, cranked up the air conditioner without a care for the electricity bill, got into bed naked no matter how many times he was told not to, and even started having sex while someone was asleep. An absolute bastard.

But… he washed Kusuda’s hair. And Kusuda liked how his fingers moved.

While soaking in that pleasant sensation, those shameless fingers crept toward his penis again. Seriously, this guy is endlessly horny, Kusuda thought, and yet let him go ahead and suck the freshly-washed shaft. When Akizawa nuzzled close and said, “Kiss me,” Kusuda kissed him.

It felt like being pounced on by an oversized dog. Annoying, yes—but not entirely unadorable.

“Masahiko, I love you.”

That much, he understood. No matter how much he ranted in his head, it wasn’t like he hated this man. That’s why he ended up forgiving behavior that, under any other circumstances, would be nothing short of outrageously selfish—just a step shy of rape—like starting something while he was asleep. Their physical closeness had become so normalized, they had sex as casually as one might give a kiss. He used to have such a strong aversion to doing things with another man, and yet now, any sense of resistance or boundaries had completely vanished.

Even if the number was small, Masahiko had had a few romantic relationships in the past. But he’d never felt anyone as physically close as Akizawa. His ex, Miyabi, had sometimes given off the vibe that she didn’t want to be clung to. Even when he reached out to touch her, she’d casually pull back with a smile, putting distance between them. When someone behaved like that, it made him start to think—Is this okay right now? Would she hate it if I touched her too much?—and he’d become cautious. It wasn’t painful, exactly. Just... different.

Akizawa, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. He threw himself at Kusuda whenever the impulse struck, completely oblivious to Kusuda’s mood. There were no games, no hidden layers—it made him an easy person to deal with in that sense.

And he never held back his words. “I love you,” “I’m in love with you”—not an exaggeration, he’d said those things hundreds of times. “You’re cute,” “You’re beautiful”—he said those a lot too. At first, Kusuda felt so embarrassed he practically broke out in a cold sweat. No one knew his face better than he did himself. It wasn’t handsome, and it wasn’t cute. But eventually, he got used to hearing it. Being told he was loved, that he was beautiful, that he was cute—it made him happy. No matter what anyone else thought, this guy was a fool who genuinely liked him, and that was enough to make it feel okay.

Sometimes, even while at work, Kusuda would suddenly remember Akizawa out of nowhere—and find himself wanting to have sex. Most of the time, Akizawa was the one initiating, so Kusuda rarely had to be the one to say he wanted to. That was all.

In the cramped bathtub, he was hugged tightly from behind. He liked being held that way. It felt secure, like his back was being protected. Their skin touched, radiating heat, and the arms wrapped around him were firm. Ah… yeah. He’s a man. It’s Akizawa, Kusuda thought as he ran his hand along the toned arm.

He hadn’t meant for things to go that way, but when he leaned his head against Akizawa’s neck, his chin was lifted, and their lips met in a kiss. They’d kissed so many times that even his lips felt a little tired.

“…Oh right. I got cast in next year’s Taiga drama.”

Drunk on the warmth of his back and the pleasure of the kiss, Kusuda almost missed the weight of what had just been whispered into his ear.

“Taiga?”

“Yeah. I’m playing the protagonist’s childhood friend.”

A year-long historical drama series. Hugely popular. If you were in the main cast, it guaranteed massive exposure. Even for a layman like Kusuda, the phrase Taiga drama immediately made him think, That’s amazing. The main cast for those series usually got announced over a year in advance, so how was he getting a role when there were less than six months until the show began airing?

“One of the actors dropped out. They said I was the right age, so my name came up last minute. Dad took the offer. Looks like I’ll be showing up throughout the whole series.”

Akizawa, who’d been stuck in a slump until last year, had suddenly become a frequent face in the media. It felt like a lifetime ago that he was screaming and rampaging in a hotel, furious about being blacklisted by Director Domon. When an actor’s luck turned, it was like everything started falling into place at once—and even Kusuda, as an outsider, could feel the truth of that.

“Masahiko, my dad’s happy, but… honestly, I don’t really want to do it.”

“Why not? It’s a Taiga drama. That’s huge.”

“Yeah, but still…”

Akizawa, still hugging him tightly, gave him a little shake like a child throwing a tantrum.

“There are tons of actors who want to be in it but can’t, right?”

“I know that,” Akizawa mumbled, resting his chin on Kusuda’s shoulder.

“They film all the location scenes for Taiga dramas at the beginning, you know. And the location this time is Okinawa. I’ll have to stay over there for about a month starting next week.”

Okinawa… Kusuda had gone there with some friends during college. Vivid blue skies, bright red bougainvillea, crystal-clear seas that stretched out forever. When he dove in, there had been swarms of colorful fish. At the market, he’d been shocked to see entire pig faces—skin and all—being sold.

“Okinawa, huh? That sounds nice.”

He murmured absentmindedly—then snapped back to himself.

“Ah—sorry. It’s work for you, isn’t it.”

Akizawa softly caressed his cheek like he was petting a cat.

“Come with me, Masahiko.”

The way the guy never wanted to be apart was almost endearing. Kusuda patted the arms wrapped around him.

“I can’t. I’ve got work.”

“Then I’ll pay you your full salary while you’re in Okinawa.”

That honey-sweet mood instantly evaporated with that one line.

“…Kaito. That’s not okay.”

His voice came out sharp.

“Huh? You’re mad? Why?”

The fact that he even had to ask made Kusuda feel not just angry but dumbfounded. Does he really not understand what he just said?

“Of course I’m mad. Don’t insult my job!”

“I wasn’t insulting it…”

And yet, Akizawa clung to him even tighter, which only made it worse.

“Just saying you’ll pay my salary—that is insulting. You’re saying my job is something I can just take time off from whenever, that anyone could do it.”

He’d managed to forget it for a while, but now it resurfaced again—Masamitsu’s talent, Tohru’s talent, and Akizawa’s talent… all of them possessing something one-of-a-kind, while he was endlessly, painfully average.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Akizawa apologized desperately. And as he listened, Kusuda started to feel awkward himself. The guy probably hadn’t meant it that seriously. He should’ve just laughed it off with a “Don’t joke like that.” He was the one who’d overreacted.

“…I don’t really get it, but I’m sorry.”

At that line, Kusuda let out a small, involuntary laugh. This man, who could never quite grasp what was going on in Kusuda’s head, just said things straight out. He could’ve just stayed quiet—but no, he was too dense. It was almost comical. In the cramped bathtub, Kusuda shifted his body, climbed onto Akizawa’s lap, and kissed him. As he did, he whispered a quiet sorry in his heart.

Maybe sensing that forgiveness, Akizawa latched onto him with renewed intensity. As always, he was insatiably aroused, pressing his already-hardened length against Kusuda’s still-tingling entrance. In the damn bath, Kusuda thought, annoyed, but he couldn’t resist the way the impatient man clung to him. He let him do as he pleased.

That startling, cold slip of opening, followed by a steady, grinding pressure that filled him deep inside—gich, gich, the sound of skin stretching around the intrusion was strangely satisfying. Once he’d taken him in to the base, Akizawa kissed him again, hard.

What the hell is wrong with me, Kusuda asked himself. Why am I doing this with a guy in the tub? Being held, being thrust into, being kissed, hearing ‘I love you’ and melting into it like it feels amazing? But when Akizawa looked at him like that, with those eyes, it somehow felt natural. Like this was how it was supposed to be, because they were in love.

As if to affirm it, Akizawa reached out and lightly brushed Kusuda’s swollen lips—puffed up from all the kissing and sucking—with his fingertip.

“You know, I really love sex. It feels so good while I’m doing it. But afterward, I always ended up finding the other person annoying. Like, I don’t need you anymore. But with you, Masahiko, it’s not like that. I always want to be with you. This—this must be what it means to feel fulfilled. Even if something bad happens at work, as soon as I get home and kiss you, I forget all about it.”

This isn’t even your home, Kusuda thought, but kept the tactless remark to himself.

“That’s why I hate the idea of location shoots. Even when work’s over, I can’t come back here. You won’t be by my side. Okinawa’s so far. What am I supposed to do? I’ll die from loneliness.”

Seeing that near-tearful face made something in Kusuda’s chest twist sweetly with a pang. Not even any of the girls he’d dated in the past had ever said anything so damn adorable. This guy was an irredeemable idiot—but he was cute. The way he was so helplessly in love with Kusuda—that was what made him cute.

Kusuda pulled him close, gently bit that well-shaped ear, and whispered,

“If you get lonely, just call me.”

“But with a phone, I can only hear your voice. I can’t hug you or kiss you.”

“It’s only a month, right? If I get time off while you’re over there, I’ll come check in on you in Okinawa.”

“Really!?”

The moment he dangled that little reward, Akizawa’s eyes lit up like stars.

“You have to come, okay? I’ll be waiting!”

If he were a dog, his huge tail would’ve been wagging like crazy. He looked cool, but acted like a total dork—and yet, he was adorable. Without thinking, Kusuda’s hands reached up to stroke the wet hair on the man’s head. He held his gaze, then, even though it made him cringe at himself, whispered in a sickeningly sweet voice,

“…You got a little more in you? I’m ready to come soon.”

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