The midday sun scorched the streets. Heat shimmered off the pavement, making every breath feel heavy. Kids rushed home from school, some laughing, some grumbling about piles of homework.
Ren trudged along with half-closed eyes, his uniform even messier than in the morning. He looked less like a student and more like a war veteran who had lost everything.
"Why does school always make me hungry?" he muttered, rubbing his stomach. "Didn't I already eat lunch? Ahh, my cursed, greedy body…"
He stopped in front of a fried snack stall. The smell of crispy tofu, bakwan, and hot fried tempeh hit his nose. His stomach roared like a beast.
"Uwaaaahhh… if only I had money…"
He dug into his pocket. Nothing. Not even a coin—just a hole.
Ren sighed, shoulders slumping. "Life is cruel. Only the strong… or the well-fed survive."
---
His walk home took him past the small houses on the edge of town. In one of them lived an old neighbor, a grandmother with neatly tied white hair—Grandma Marla.
Though her back was bent, her eyes were sharp, and her hands still quick as she peeled vegetables on her porch. She spotted Ren dragging his feet.
"Ren! Hey, Ren! Come here a moment!"
Ren turned lazily. "Eh? Grandma Marla… I swear I didn't steal anything this time."
She clicked her tongue. "Who said anything about stealing, you dumb boy! Did you eat lunch?"
Ren patted his stomach. "Hehe… I did… but my stomach doesn't believe me."
Grandma Marla sighed, went inside, then came back out carrying a small metal lunch container. "Here. Some fish soup and bread. Eat before your stomach rebels."
Ren's eyes lit up like street lamps flickering on at dusk. "Hooooohhh! Food! Grandma, you're a hero without a medal!"
He snatched the lunchbox, opened the lid, and inhaled deeply.
"Wuahhh… this smell… this is the scent of happiness itself!"
Passersby stared as the teenage boy bowed reverently before the metal container.
"What a lunatic," someone muttered.
Ren ignored them. He tore off a piece of bread, dipped it in the soup, and shoved it into his mouth with a look of divine bliss.
"This… this is better than passing an exam without studying…!"
Grandma Marla sat down on her porch, watching him devour the meal. A faint smile touched her lips, though her eyes carried worry.
"You, Ren… every day it's the same. You come home hungry, waiting for someone else's kindness. How long do you plan to live like this?"
Ren paused mid-bite, shrugged. "Until I'm full."
"Not like that, you fool." She tapped his head with a wooden spoon. "You need to learn to stand on your own. If this keeps up, one day you'll starve to death."
Ren only chuckled. "If I die, then I lost. But if I eat again tomorrow… then I win, right?"
Grandma Marla shook her head. "Your mouth is full of excuses."
---
When he finished, Ren sprawled out on a wooden chair in front of her house, staring up at the sky.
"Grandma… I've always wondered. Why do you bother feeding me? I'm useless, lazy, and I sleep through class."
Grandma Marla went quiet, then looked at him steadily. "Because I see myself in you."
Ren blinked. "Eh? So you were lazy too?!"
"No!" She slapped her thigh, making Ren snicker. "I mean… I was alone too, once. No family, no one to lean on. I only survived with whatever I had. When I look at you, it feels like I'm looking at my younger self."
Ren's usual jokes froze on his lips. For once, he caught the glimmer of loneliness in her eyes.
He gave her a small smile. "Then… I'm lucky to have you next door."
Grandma Marla sighed. "Hopeless brat."
---
Hours passed. Ren finally headed home, returning the empty lunchbox—but not without stroking it fondly.
"Thank you, container of happiness. May we meet again tomorrow."
Grandma Marla swatted him with a rag. "Get lost, idiot!"
Ren bolted away, laughing all the way back to his own shabby house.
---
Back in his room, he collapsed onto his thin mattress. His stomach was full, but his mind drifted.
"If Grandma Marla wasn't around… I'd probably be skin and bones by now… or a pile of skeletons… scary thought."
He stared at the ceiling, patched with stains. "Well, this is my life. Eat if there's food, sleep if there's time, school if I feel like it…"
His eyelids drooped shut. Outside, the sun shifted into evening. The ocean breeze slipped through the cracks in his walls, carrying the salty scent of the sea.
He had no idea that his routine of handouts, his way of drifting through life, would one day collide with a new world—a world far harsher than hunger or fullness.
But for now, Ren smiled faintly, fish soup still lingering on his tongue.
---