Ren sat on the porch of his shack, scratching his belly with a miserable face. The shack was leaning to one side so badly that one strong wind might finish the job and flatten it. But Ren wasn't worried about that.
He had a bigger problem.
"I'm starving…"
His stomach growled loud enough to scare off the birds sitting on the roof.
Ren was sixteen, a boy who lived alone with no family and no money. No parents, no siblings, not even a pet. Just him and an empty stomach. Most people would pity him, but Ren himself didn't think too hard about it. He never had the brainpower for complicated thoughts.
All he cared about was food.
Ren stood up and marched into his so-called kitchen. If anyone else saw it, they would probably laugh. It was nothing but a broken stove, a cracked table, and some jars hanging by ropes. Still, Ren checked everything again, hoping for a miracle.
He opened every lid. Empty.
Shook every jar. Empty.
Even flipped one upside down and smacked it. Not even a grain of rice fell out.
Ren groaned and dropped to the floor dramatically. "Not a single crumb left? Are you kidding me? What the hell am I supposed to chew on, air?"
His stomach answered with another loud growl.
He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Sunlight leaked through the holes, making thin golden stripes on the floor. Ren raised his hand toward the light like he was reaching for something.
"If there's a god of food, hear me out. Fried chicken. Big portion. Extra crispy. Or fine, boiled cassava will do. Just… something."
Silence. No chicken. No cassava. Just more growling.
Ren slapped his forehead. "Figures. Even gods are stingy."
Ren was an idiot, and everyone who knew him would agree. Once, he tried to roast dry leaves and nearly burned his house down. Another time, he stared at a bowl of stones for hours, praying they'd turn into soup. Spoiler: they didn't.
But he wasn't completely useless. There was one strange thing about him—his instincts in a fight.
People in the nearby town still remembered the time Ren got cornered by a pack of stray dogs. Instead of getting ripped apart, he somehow dodged every bite with awkward but precise movements. He even smacked two of them away with a stick before running off.
Another time, he stood up for a younger kid who was getting bullied. Ren didn't know a single martial art move, but he managed to knock down three bigger boys without even realizing how. His body just moved.
Ren himself didn't think much of it. "Just lucky," he always said.
But right now, no instincts, no luck, no hidden talent could save him from the cruelest enemy of all: an empty stomach.
"Ughhh, this sucks… why am I always hungry? Totally unfair." He rolled around on the floor like a dying worm.
---
By noon, Ren gave up lying around. He left his shack, dragging his feet along the dirt road. The heat was brutal, but that wasn't what bothered him. His shirt was old, his shorts had holes, and his hair was a mess. Despite that, Ren wasn't ugly. In fact, he had sharp eyes and a decent face. Too bad his usual expression screamed "idiot."
"If I starve to death, maybe then people will realize how precious I am…" he muttered.
A chicken pecking the ground nearby looked up at him.
Ren crouched down. "You understand me, right, Mr. Chicken?"
The chicken squawked, flapped its wings, and ran away.
Ren froze, betrayed. "…Even chickens don't want me around. Great. Just great."
But the next moment, his eyes sparkled like treasure chests. Down the road came a vendor pushing a cart filled with pastries.
"Kueeee! Pastries!" Ren screamed like he'd found salvation.
He bolted toward the cart, mouth wide open, eyes glowing with hunger. The old man pushing it nearly dropped dead from shock.
"Hey! What the hell, kid?!" the vendor yelled. "You buying or not?"
Ren stopped, gasping. "Buying? Ha! As if. I don't have a single coin!"
The vendor's face darkened. "Then don't come running like that, you lunatic!"
Ren's gaze stayed glued to the cart. Rows of round rice cakes, colorful layered snacks, and even plain donuts sat neatly inside. To him, it was heaven on earth.
"C-can I… maybe… sniff them? Just once?" he asked, dead serious.
The old man raised a ladle threateningly. "Get lost before I bash your skull in!"
Ren flinched, then slouched away. His head hung low, his footsteps heavy. "This world… so cruel. Can't even share a little smell…"
---
By the time the sun began to set, Ren dragged himself back home, empty-handed again. He sat on the porch, staring at the orange horizon. His stomach roared louder than the cicadas.
Yet, strangely enough, he wasn't completely hopeless. Deep inside, something told him he wasn't going to stay like this forever.
Sometimes he even felt like… there were voices. Whispers he couldn't make out, calling him from somewhere far away. Telling him his life wasn't meant to end here. That something much bigger was waiting.
Ren tilted his head. "Eh? Bigger than food?"
Of course, he didn't get it. His tiny brain translated destiny into dinner.
"I need something to eat. Tonight."
He grabbed the wooden stick leaning in the corner of the shack. Just a tree branch he'd cut himself, rough and uneven. But Ren held it like a prized sword.
"Alright. Tonight I'll catch fish. Or I'll die for real."
The evening breeze blew, carrying the salty smell of the sea. Ren's stomach growled again. He grinned like a madman.
"Wait for me, fish! I'll eat every last one of you!"
---
What Ren didn't know was that his stupid decision to walk to the sea that night would be the start of something far greater. Something that would tear apart the peace of an entire world.
But for now, he was just Ren.
A starving, foolish, naïve boy whose head was filled with only one thought: food.
---