His feet stepping above the thin layer of snow on the pavement, the cold air brushed his face as he could see his own breath, steaming white in front of him while he's busy securing several paper bags into the delivery container on the back of the battered scooter.
…Damn… winter just began and it's already this cold…?
"Yo, lord Tetsuo, this all of it?" His bright yellow helmet, shaped like some anime chicken mascot, swaying slightly as he turned his head.
Seconds later, behind the counter, the man in his sixties emerged, wiping his hands on a worn-out apron, arms thick from decades of kneading dough, round belly that spoke of too many taste tests, and his tired face creasing into a half-smile.
"Yeah, yeah, that's the lot, Renji." Tetsuo nodding toward the stacked orders. "And don't go flooring it like a damn street racer. You shake those fillings loose, you're wrapping them tomorrow."
"Come on… This thing could even barely run the hill, let alone race anything…" Renji tapping the old yellow scooter, with bold writing of the restaurant's name:
'Warai Gyoza Honpo (笑い餃子本舗)'
"Where's the red one…?" His eyes soon landed on a neatly tied paper bag marked with a single red ribbon. "Ah, there we go."
"As always—handle that one with care. Wouldn't want our best customer pissed off, yeah?"
"Got it, old man-boss."
Then, with a kick of the stand, the engine coughing to life as he twisted the throttle. The scooter blend into the cold and busy morning traffic.
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"Good morning! WaraGyo (ワラギョ) arriving hot and smiling!" Renji recites the restaurant slogan with a playful tone, though his deadpan expression didn't sell it at all. Making the man that opened the door gave out wry smile.
The first stop was always the same. A small apartment building on the corner of the main road, where a single dad with four kids waited every morning for his 'family set' of dumplings. He was the kind of dad who tried his best, juggling his kids' needs and work, a worn-out smile always plastered across his face. And as he picked up the money in his pocket—
"Ah shoot! Wrong bill, wait a minute…"
While waiting, Renji could see the dad's kids, loud and energetic, ran around the small apartment like any kids would.
Wow… lively as always…
And one of them would sometimes walk to the front door, staring curiously at him as if he's some kind of walking fast food mascot, just like right now.
"… Big bro… can't you bring me more dumplings…?"
"… Hmm… I don't know little missy… I just bring what your dad order…"
"… I'd like more of the round, gold shrimp dumplings…" The little girl said in a voice that still half thinking.
"… You… should ask your dad about that…?"
"Hey! Come back inside!" The tired dad picked up his little girl with a sigh and hand Renji the correct amount of money. "Sorry about that…"
"It's fine, have a good day, sir. And you too…" Renji pats the kid's head, smiling and then walk away.
After a distance, piecing the image in his head, about the father interact with his kids patiently. There was something about the way he balanced everything with such quiet determination that stuck with Renji.
"Can't imagine how tiring it is…"
I wonder what he truly felt… does he regret that his life lead to where he is now…?
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Next destination he's arrived at; is the apartment few blocks away.
Here comes the lair of 'lone college student'
Renji took a glance at the order receipt stuck on the paper bag he carries.
"Good morning! WaraGyo, your meat buns and wontons arriving hot and smiling!"
A quick few seconds after Renji pressed the bell, the door opened slightly.
"Thanks."
He never said much, just a curt response, and the money passed through the gap in his door before rushing back to his room.
Welp, good luck with your studies dude… hope you land a proper job someday… unlike me, heh…
Renji thought sarcastically, catching his own reflection in the window as he walked downstairs back to his scooter in that bright yellow delivery get-up.
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Next, he found himself standing in front of one elderly couple house, their order was always something around vegetables soup, or something simple with enough fiber and proper protein.
"Thank you dear, give my greetings to Tetsuo."
The elder wife greeted him with a warm smile as she handed the money, but the coughing voice deeper inside the house catches Renji's attention, the elderly husband that resting on the sofa, his movements slow and labored. And his wife would carefully help him with glass of water, putting his coat, and a blanket around him. The way she cared for him spoke volumes. It was a quiet kind of love, the kind that Renji didn't quite understand. And he always wondered—
What would it actually take for someone to care that much…?
As the wife tried to close the door behind her, Renji noticed the sharp creak sound. She pulled hard, struggling a little.
"Hmm? Want me to look at it?"
"Oh, you're still on your deliveries. I can't trouble you—"
"It's okay," Renji cut her off with a wave of his hand. He leaned in and examining the door. "Ah, just the hinges. Just a minute, I'll grab something from my scooter..."
Without waiting for her to say anything, he jogged to his scooter few steps away, rummaged the tools compartment, and returned. A few quick turns of the screwdriver later, the door swung smoothly on its frame.
"Really, Renji, you're such a help... not just this time..."
"Nothing special ma'am. If it's just a lightbulb, a cable, hammering a nail, or any small fix like usual, I can help." Renji shrugged, flashing a thumbs up.
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After 5 minutes ride from his last stop. He arrived at the old bookstore stuck in the corner of the back road, seemingly forgotten by the age of internet today.
"Hmm… These nostalgic smells of books and wood…"
As soon as Renji put the food on the counter, His hand moves and touches the book as if pulled by a magnet.
"You can stay for a bit and read," the bookstore owner said while handing him the money.
"A-ah—I'd love to… but now's not a good time… Still got bunch to deliver..."
"Hah, anytime you want to visit, yea." The bookstore owner smiled at him.
After giving a polite bow and stepping out of the store. While riding his scooter, Renji's mind drifted back to the books from earlier.
...How do you even write like those books? Something...to be printed... to even sit on a shelf...?
To actually write something that complete and lasted. Something that won't get drowned in the algorithm and didn't end up in the publisher trash bin, or his own, but the thought faded quickly as he shakes his head in denial.
…Dreams didn't pay rent, and reality is not a dream… But… still…
Renji tightened his grip on the handlebars, as if trying to distract himself from something.
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Next up, he arrived at a women's sharehouse, the place where pair of sister lives.
"Fried rice again…"
But I get it… can't go wrong with fried rice, yeah…
"I wonder which one will open the door for me today… will it be the energetic one, or the tired one…?"
As he pressed to doorbell once while reciting the catchphrase. "Good morning! WaraGyo—"
The door swung open before he could finish, and the young woman who appeared finished his slogan for him with energetic smile. "—arriving hot and smiling!"
"Thank you…" Not long after, the older sister appeared behind her, passed by the doorframe and handing Renji the money.
She was quieter, the type of quiet because tired of too many job interviews.
"Hey, didn't forget to double the eggs this time, right?" the energetic one asked with playful pout.
"…Don't know. I'm not behind the wok…" Renji checked the receipt. "Says here it's included, so… probably."
"Haha, next time give us a discount, will you?"
"…Don't know… I'm just the delivery guy, miss… I don't make the discount policies."
Renji sigh, bowed and turned to leave. But as he walked back to his scooter, he couldn't help but wonder about the older sister—
Those brutal eye bags… worse than yesterday… I think...?
"How much longer she'd have to keep pretending everything was fine?"
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Then Renji's shoes crunch the snow in front of the local health therapy center.
"Aight, another regular…"
Today's red buns and sweet-sour pork, huh…
"Yooo Renji! You're finally here!" Then a burly man with broad shoulders, with a laugh that echoed to the front of his shop.
"Here's your order, Tetsuo said he threw something extra, but I don't ask the details, so… surprise for you I guess?"
"Ooh, thanks as always!" The man said as he patted Renji's shoulder hard, causing him to force a stiff smile.
"Ouch, still powerful as ever, huh?"
"You should bulk up, young man," he said while flexing his biceps and triceps enthusiastically.
"…Well… at the very least, I'm not dead, and I'm healthy, and that's good enough for me."
"Tsk tsk, your muscles are crying, I can hear their sobs from miles away."
Renji chuckled. "Yeah sure… Anyway, just make sure you're not overdoing whatever it is you're doing, sir."
"What are you talking about? I'm at my peak form nowadays, HAHA!"
They smiled and chatted for a while, then Renji bowed briefly before leaving.
"His hand still trembling, huh… How long's he been hiding that?"
…He was…constantly on the edge of something… like a certain type of shark that die if they stopped swimming…
As he continued to drive, his mind drifted back to his past—to the days he spent working as a cameraman's assistant, moving from one set to the next until his muscles ached and his body trembled.
But back then, despite the toll it took on his body, he kept going. He set his sights on his dream. To make something happen. Something that would make someone else feel something.
It's not like I… Gave up… But… Life had a way of demanding more immediate things, like bills, food, fast-paced deadlines, or a fucking burnt-out boss with God complex…
His thoughts broke as the car honking behind him impatiently, the sound of traffic grounding him back in the present.
"Shheeessshh… chillax man…"
Renji continues on, new stops. Some fresh faces, some old faces.
A sleep-deprived businessman who looks like he hasn't closed his eyes in days. A newlywed couple he just sees today, judging by their matching rings and hopeful smiles, ordering their first dumplings together.
Then a wealthy family. Always complaining about the prices and the service, too expensive. Too slow. Too cold. Too something. No matter how cheap or fast the food is.
Another round. Another loop. And sometimes, the scooter coughs, the complaint of an engine too old to be forced to run around the cold-snowy city.