It was just about past two in the afternoon when he's back and pushed open the wooden door, though sunlight still poured in from outside, the interior already feels like it's closing hour.
A TV fitted above the cabinet is one of the sources of light, and the muffled sound of a news anchor's voice cutting through. Renji's jaw clenched a bit too hard before Tetsuo reached over the remote and tuned it off.
"Ah, you're back. All good?" He greeted from behind the counter with tired yet warm smile.
Renji relaxed and pulled off his helmet and jacket in one motion. "Well, as usual. All delivered—hot and safe despite the cold."
"Hey, have you eaten yet?"
"Nah," Renji shrugs while putting the helmet on a nearby chair. "Stopping by at supermarket tonight anyway."
"Haha, hunting for discounted fruit again? Well, it's still a little early for that. Eat this." He slid a covered tray toward him. "Just leftovers. But made with love and care." He added in a weirdly playful, anime-like voice.
"Haah… don't do that, old man. Makes me lose my appetite—" Still, he accepted it and gave a small grin. "—Thanks."
After several quiet minutes Renji eating in silence, Tetsuo walked to him after he finished cleaning up the kitchen, and gave him a light smack on the shoulder.
"Getting used to working here again?"
Renji paused, his mouth hesitates to bite more on the dumplings, he knew that the question wasn't just about the deliveries.
You're always asked like that—
Roundabout, casual, as if prodding gently at a wound to see if it still hurt.
"…Yeah, Work's easy and nice. You sure you don't wanna open till night?"
"Hah, these old bones begging for rest. Besides, this place's fine just like this."
"Work hard enough, and you'll have a WaraGyo branch every corner of the city."
"Cut the crap… young punk like you is the one who should be working hard these days instead of me, anyway, you're three weeks in now, what about that competition thing going on…?"
—See… about time you asked what you really want to know, old man…
"…Making progress… Should be putting finishing touch on it tonight. Thanks for handing me that flyer…"
"Don't worry about it. The least I can do is hand you an opportunity. And if you do win, you better treat me to a nice massage parlor, yeah?" His joyful laugh filled the quiet room.
"...Well, yeah. About that…"
"Hmm? don't worry I'm just kidding, Renji."
"No… I'd like to make it up to you. If I do win."
Tetsuo noticed the hint of uncertainty on Renji's voice. The younger man doubt is palpable that Tetsuo almost said it, the usual line 'Don't worry, you'll win.' But he chooses not to say it.
He remembered too clearly how Renji looked around three weeks ago—tired, hollowed out, like someone dragging himself forward with no destination in mind.
"…Is something bothering you?"
Renji stared at the almost empty tray in front of him.
"...I don't know. I'm just…"
"Thinking of backing out?"
"No… Yes—no. I mean, I'm submitting it tomorrow. It's just…"
Tetsuo leaned against the wall and waited patiently.
"...…I don't think I've written anything interesting..."
"What did you write about anyway?"
"…Just wrote what I saw… You know… Daily stuff. Nothing special."
"I don't get much about writing," The old man nodded slowly, choosing his words with care. "But… Renji. Did I push you into something you didn't want?"
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"I mean the competition. Since… I remember you wanted to make movies, right? Dreamed of seeing your name on a credit roll."
The silence stretched for a few seconds longer than it should have.
For a brief moment, the image of blood on asphalt flashed behind his eyes—he blinked hard and went back to eating whatever left in his plate.
…Damn it…
"...Yeah," he murmured with almost inaudible voice. "I still do."
"I'm just scared I pushed you again. Like last time. With the TV station gig."
"No! That wasn't your fault. Honestly, in fact… I'm grateful. You gave me a shot." Renji finally turned his head toward Tetsuo's, he could see the old man eyes staring at him with regret.
"...So… you still won't tell me why you quit?"
"...Old man, I'm sorry. I just…"
Only the faint ticking of the kitchen clock filled the space between them until one of them decided to close the topic.
"…No, I'm the one who should be sorry." He stepped closer, placing a hand on Renji's shoulder gently. "You don't have to tell me now…"
"Sorry, old man."
"Don't know what's going on in that head of yours, but hey—good luck, Renji. And… just think good thought… okay…?"
"Yeah...Thanks."
"Alright. Go back to your place and finish that writing of yours… And if you win by some chance, I'll be waiting for that massage…" Tetsuo crossed his arms and let out a wry laugh.
"Heh. Deal."
After finishing his meal and helping Tetsuo clean the table, Renji slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way to the door.
"Oh yeah, by the way, you're not going to check on the scooter? It gave out weird cough from time to time these days, it's not funny if it stops in mid-delivery schedule…"
"That so? Well, it's old and way past it's prime… rather than wasting money keeping it, I thought about buying another one next spring."
"Wow next year…? I think the scooter already begging for its retirement next week…"
"Haah, fine, fine, I'll think about it… ain't cheap stuff y'know that…" Tetsuo scratched his hair with tired sigh.
"Welp, the keys under that helmet as always, if you want to check it yourself."
"Yeah, careful on your way back."
"See you tomorrow, old man."
Tetsuo waved after him, his smile more complicated now. Shadowed by something else. He lingered by the counter, watching the door closed shut.
"…Seriously… am I even doing the right thing…?"
Then his eyes drifted to the photo on the wall. A bit younger version of himself, smiling beside a woman and a small boy, the picture slightly smudged from age.
--------
After a 30-minute walk and one bus ride back to his place, the lock clicked shut behind him. Renji stood still for a moment with his hand still resting on the door handle.
"Home sweet fuckin' home."
The room greeted him with its usual emptiness, silent like underwater static. At closer look, every surface was wiped, every object in its place, thin dust is there but not dirty, Renji almost obsessively kept it clean.
Yet the place was lifeless. White walls, muted grey curtains, a couch with no pillows, a small table that had never hosted anyone but him. Not a single photograph. No posters, no trinkets.
As if the man living here didn't want to be remembered. As if he didn't want to remember himself.
He moved on instinct, keys on the tray, jacket on the back of the door, kicking off his shoes with usual laziness, he glanced toward the balcony. Snow starts falling again, the lights of the city blinked far beyond the glass. His eyes straight to a direction, a house existed out there, just one train ride away.
He could feel his hand remembered the cold texture of the doorknob of that other place.
Wonder if the place still holding on…
--------
—Then steam filled his bathroom, the mirror fogged until he couldn't see his reflection anymore. Under the shower, he stared at the ceiling. Feeling the water against his skin.
His eyes drifted shut. Images flickered behind his lids. And Tetsuo's question, once again repeating in his mind.
"So... you still won't tell me why you quit?"
A memory slipped in, the sound of sirens, his heartbeat. And the way his own hands trembled as he held his camera.
"Tch…"
He tried to push the memory away with a creaking twist of the knob all the way to the left, turning the water ice cold. The chill hit his head instantly, crawling down to his bone.
"… I'm disgusting…"
--------
Later, he found himself sitting on the sofa with hair still damp from bath, he opened his laptop on the table, and his usual carry notebook, flipping through the pages.
"—Screw it."
… Just finish the script… It's due tomorrow...
He began typing. The words came slow and forced and heavy, like walking through mud.
Typing. Cursor blinking. A pause. Typing again. Cursor blinking again. A few lines of dialogue with ton of typos. A setting description, flat and lifeless. Delete. Re-type. Pause.
His mood sank deeper with each word.
"This is shit…" Then softer, like an echo of his heart— "...absolute shit."
Though. Despite his curdled mood, hours later he hit the save button like a finish line on a long marathon, the document stared back with a mess of scattered dialogue and exposition.
…At least I have something to actually send now...
"Think good thought…" he's parroting Tetsuo's words that he often hears, dry as overused joke.
That's what people said, right? Reframe your day. Look for the good.
"Today… yeah… met those guys. Hope they're well."
A blurry montage played in his head— The people he met during his routine delivery. And then—Tetsuo himself.
…Old man still checking on me like I was a lost puppy...
Renji smiled with half ashamed, half grateful. And finally, his mind shift to the most unique moment he experienced today—
"…Her…"
That woman in the greenhouse garden. He'd seen her before on multiple occasions. Always at the same routine, always quiet. But today was the first time they talk to each other's.
If you could call it 'talking…'
"…Haaah… she's memorable, that's for sure…"
The way she analyzed him with a look. The stings in her words, the way she's tending her flower with graceful manner.
Whatever… Won't be sitting in that garden anymore anyway…
Then he reached for his phone lazily, feeling the need to shift cracking gears in his head. Thumb aimlessly surfing through social media, Ads, pets, food, and dumb dance trend.
Scroll.
Scroll again.
Back to the top.
He'd already seen these posts. Liked one of them minutes ago. But his thumb moved on autopilot. Expecting the algorithm would show him something better this time.
Scrolling again. And an inspirational Bible quote intrudes his sight.
'The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.' Followed by five emojis and a poorly cropped stock photo of someone crying
"The hell—again? I swear I've blocked this account…"
These verses kept popping up between animal memes and food videos. He wasn't against religion or anything. But it felt like a billboard telling you to smile while you're drowning. Hollow. Repetitive. And probably selling something.
But then. Something caught his eye, cute art filled the screen with bright colors, soft lines. An oddly charming mascot illustration, smiling with dumb round eyes—
…Was that… a lion with turtle body, wearing Santa's hat? Christmas, huh…
He blinked.
"Oh. That artist."
'@RaroPeroTierno'
He remembered following it back when it had barely a hundred followers almost a year ago. An account who kept drawing animal hybrids that made no sense: owl-sheep, cat-fish, raccoon-squid.
This… had maybe two likes per post back then… but now? Whoa, Over 10K followers…
"Still not viral famous, but damn. That was fast. Good for this guy..."
He smiled for a while, then he tapped into '@RaroPeroTierno' account.
And paused on one of the older posts, that made Renji followed this account, a poor animation loop of that weird panda-shrimp hybrid doing nonsense dance.
"Used to laugh at stuff like this…"
Back when I thought I had it. Back when I thought I could...
Then the smile vanished.
"…And here I am…" His worn-out voice trailed in the silence.
…Still writing in circles. Still going nowhere.
Renji stared at the ceiling as he tossed the phone onto the table and sink into the couch, deeper into the cushions like something dead, he could feel the cold seeping in, even colder now, as if the weather and his own emotions were conspiring against him.
"…Maybe I was never cut out for this..." The words sat on his tongue like bitter confession.
The loud ticking of the analog clock catches his attention and he glances up at it in realization.
"…Wait… 'bout time."
He pushed himself out of the couch and move on from his pity party with a groan.
"Guess, should wind down while I'm at it…"
--------
As part of his weekly mission to restock his fridge, Renji found himself standing in front of supermarket door. The door slides open soon after and letting out the store's annoyingly cheerful jingle on loop.
He tapped at his phone, seeing the clock now at 8:21 pm. And Renji always timed his arrival at this hour, because discount hour starts after 8:30 pm.
…Guess what…The war's about to begin.
Looking at the direction of bento aisle, already formed a line of housewives and overtime salarymen circled the section like vultures around a dying animal. The store clerk stood nearby with a red sticker gun in hand, yet everyone pretended not to care and not to be watching too closely.
He sighed at the almost comically same scene every time he's here.
Ten minutes of riot for five bites of lukewarm food ain't worth it…
He'd been in that crowd before—lined up and fought for boxed meals like the rest—but it always left him mentally drained.
"…Haah… Especially those scary housewives' iron elbows…"
He mumbled and turned away while walking down three aisles to the back corner where the fruit clearance rack sat like an ignored shrine. Bananas speckled with brown. Apples and pears with faded skin, soft in places they shouldn't be.
No one circling this area. No tension or intimidating eyes. No upcoming chaos.
Now this... this was peace. Real treasure.
He smiled while picking up a hand of banana and gently poking at its speckled skin.
"Eighty-nine yen, see… Cheaper than a pack of instant curry—and I don't need a microwave or rice."
His hand moved over a dented pear marked down to thirty-two yen.
"This one'll last two days… maybe three in the fridge…"
He put the fruits of his choice into his basket.
Calories. Fiber. Vitamins. No hypertension, no diabetes. If I get sick—hell, if I even catch a cold—I'm screwed. No insurance. No medicine. No time off work… Well... not like Tetsuo will force me to work or cut my salary… but… I have to at least keep my health in check and help him with deliveries properly…
Lost in his thought, behind him, the bento crowd erupted as the clerk finally put the discount sticker on one of the foods, just like an empty gunshot in running competition.
At the cashier, his total blinking only to a little over two hundred yen, all for a week's worth of sugar, fiber, and the illusion of health he kept telling himself.
--------
Back at his apartment again, he unpacked his loot from the plastic bag. Bananas first. Still cold from the weather outside during the walk. He peeled one slowly and took a bite for dinner, soft sweetness filling his mouth as he opened the fridge.
A cold and dry breath of air seeped out—his eyes scanning the interior. Besides half a cabbage and a lonely stick of butter, the fridge was empty.
He placed the hand of banana on the middle rack like an heirloom. Then the apples and pears, lined around it
After he's satisfied with the arrangement, he shut the door and rested his forehead against the fridge for a moment, the taste of too sweet of a banana still filling his mouth.
"Tetsuo giving me food sometimes really saves my ass…Otherwise, I might've already forgotten the taste of meat."
A dry laugh slipped out of him as he finished one banana, brushed his teeth, and hit the hay.
At least tomorrows and several days ahead of breakfast was covered.