Chapter 49: Dumplings and Shadows.
The smell of sizzling oil and fresh dough filled the narrow street.
Ren wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm, balancing a tray of steaming dumplings while his mother, Ryo, handed out napkins to a small line of customers.
"Two trays! Extra sauce!"
"Coming right up," Ren replied smoothly, handing over the paper bag with the efficiency of someone who'd done this a hundred times.
Ryuga, his father, was at the cooking station-a large iron pan crackling like a mini volcano. He flipped dumplings with a metal spatula, humming off-key.
"This one's golden brown! Just how I like it!" Ryuga announced proudly.
"You like everything golden brown," Ryo teased, tying up another bag.
Ren chuckled quietly. He wasn't used to this... not really. The sound of his parents working together, the casual bickering -it was warm. Too warm, almost.
"Ren, your folding's improved," his mother said suddenly. He blinked. "Huh?"
"The dumplings. You finally make them look like dumplings instead of... sad frogs."
Ren let out a short laugh. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"It is," she said, ruffling his hair with a flour-dusted hand.
Ryuga peeked over the pan with a grin. "My boy's finally pulling his weight, huh?"
"Finally?" Ren echoed, mock-offended.
"Hey, hey, no need to act all high and mighty," Ryuga said.
"Back in the day, you'd have your face buried in books while we slaved away."
"Not wrong," Ryo added with a sly smile.
Ren accepted the playful jabs without deflecting them. "Guess I'm making up for it."
"Good boy," Ryuga said, shoving another tray his way.
—
By mid-morning, a familiar figure appeared at the stall.
"Oi, Ren," Shimo said, leaning on the counter with a sly grin.
"Gimme a discount. Best friend privileges."
Ren crossed his arms. "Discount? You mean a twenty percent increase?"
Her jaw dropped. "What-!? That's extortion!"
"It's called business."
"You're unbelievable." She fished out the extra coins anyway, grumbling as she handed them over.
"Pleasure doing business," Ren said with mock formality. "You're lucky these dumplings are actually good," Shimo muttered, walking off with her bag.
Around noon, someone walked past them with a rhythm Ren could recognize even blindfolded.
His mother squinted. "Isn't that one of your friends?" Ren followed her gaze. Akeshi, of course. "Yeah. That's him."
Akeshi stopped mid-step, then ran backwards-literally-until he stood in front of the stall.
"How much for a pack?" he asked, slightly out of breath.
Ren tilted his head. "Depends. How much money does your broken phone have left?"
Akeshi looked down at the cracked screen.
"...It's not that bad."
"It looks worse than my personality," Ren deadpanned.
Akeshi paused. "...Fair." He checked something on the phone, sighed, and turned to Ryo.
"Fifty dumplings. With sauce if possible."
Ren raised a brow. "Fifty?"
Akeshi nodded. "Fifty." He paid without complaint, took the hefty bag, and disappeared down the street like a courier on a mission.
"Is he... kind of fat?" Ryo asked, watching him vanish.
Ryuga laughed. "Have you seen his build? Guy's all muscle. That's probably for someone else."
Ren handed over another tray. "His girlfriend, probably." Both parents gave him a look. He shrugged. "I mean... come on."
—
Evening fell. The crowd thinned, the pan cooled, and the three of them stayed behind to clean up.
The streetlamps flickered on, bathing the stall in soft orange light.
Ryo spoke first. "Ren."
He looked up from stacking trays. "Yeah?"
"Why are you working with us? Back then, you'd spend every waking second studying. You even skipped meals." Her voice was gentle, but curious.
Ren froze for a fraction of a second.
That's right. Back then, that's what he was.
The diligent one. The one who didn't waste time.
But now...
'Why am I doing this...?'
His thoughts slid, like a ship losing control on a black current.
The praises, the gentle teasing, the warmth-it all felt like it belonged to someone else.
The original Ren.
The real owner of this body.
He stared up at the darkening sky. Clouds drifted like lazy ghosts.
'I feel like an ocean filled with junk... just floating... while sharks nibble at what's left. Slowly dying. Slowly disappearing.'
The thought came sharp, uninvited: 'Maybe I should just killmy-'
"Ren!"
A firm shake pulled him back. His father's hands gripped his shoulders, his face shadowed by worry. Ryo stood nearby, frozen in confusion.
"Whatever the hell you're thinking," Ryuga barked, "stop. Right now. Throw it out."
Ren blinked. He hadn't even realized his eyes had unfocused..
"I'm fine," he said weakly.
Ryuga wasn't fooled. He pushed Ren down onto a crate and knelt in front of him-his father kneeling before him.
"If-if-you're being bullied again at school," Ryuga said, voice tight, "you tell me. I'll go myself and teach them a lesson."
Ren stared. Bullied?
In his past life, no one had bullied him. He'd been... invisible. Too efficient to be picked on.
But this... this version of his father's voice-protective, angry, present-hit something deep inside.
He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "No one's bullying me, Dad. Honestly, no one even cares. Everyone's too busy with their own crap."
Ryuga searched his face, then nodded reluctantly. "Alright. But if that ever changes-"
"I'll tell you," Ren finished.
They went back to cleaning. The sky was quiet.
For the first time that day, Ren exhaled slowly.
The thoughts hadn't vanished, but the weight in his chest had loosened.
This warmth-loud, messy, real-wasn't something he deserved.
But it was here.
And for now, he would hold onto it.
.
.
.
.
.
The night air was still. The only sound was the distant murmur of waves beyond the hill.
Ryo tossed and turned in her sleep, sweat beading on her forehead.
—
She stood on a weathered pier. A cold mist clung to her skin. Ahead, Ren stood at the very edge, his back turned to her, his dark hair fluttering against the silver-blue sea.
"Ren!" she yelled, voice echoing.
He didn't turn.
"REN!"
The wooden planks groaned beneath her feet as she ran.
The sea below boiled-not with water, but with junk, twisted metal, blood, broken pieces of something she couldn't name.
"Don't you dare!" she screamed. "Don't you dare walk away like that again!"
But Ren didn't move. He simply stepped forward and fell, vanishing into the crimson surge.
The sea rose like a living thing, waves crashing over the pier. Ryo barely had time to gasp before the blood-soaked tide slammed into her-cold, heavy, suffocating.
She woke with a strangled gasp, hands clutching the bedsheet. Her chest heaved. The faint smell of salt was still in her nose.
—
"REN!"
Ryuga sat up beside her, hair messy, eyes narrowing in worry. "What the hell happened?!"
She couldn't answer. Tears spilled before words did. "He-he fell," she whispered, trembling. "I couldn't reach him..."
Ryuga immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Hey, hey... breathe. You're awake now."
She buried her face against him, shaking.
A while later, with a steaming cup of water between her palms, Ryo finally managed to talk.
"He's changing," she whispered. "Ryuga... he's changing so fast, I don't even recognize him sometimes. The things he's doing... why would he even-why-" Her voice cracked, raw. "Why would Ren do this to himself?"
Ryuga leaned back on the chair opposite her, arms folded, his usual relaxed air tempered with seriousness. "I've noticed it too. But panicking won't help. He's walking a line that only he sees... all we can do is be there when he reaches back."
"But what if he doesn't?" she snapped, surprising even herself.
Ryuga didn't flinch. He met her gaze head-on. "Then we drag him back. Like hell we're letting him drown alone."
For the first time that night, Ryo laughed a small, broken sound. "You always make it sound so simple."
He shrugged. "Because sometimes, it is."
She exhaled, the tension loosening. "It's nice... having you beside me, Ryuga."
That's when he moved-instinctively.
A faint whistle cut through the room. Ryuga's hand shot up and caught a small blade just before it grazed Ryo's cheek.
Metal rang against his fingers.
"-What the hell?!" he barked, scanning the shadows.
A slow, gravelly chuckle rolled out from the far corner.
An old man stepped into the light. His hair was white, streaked with thin veins of gold, glinting faintly like threads of sunlight caught in snow. His cloak hung loosely, but his presence was anything but frail.
Ryo's eyes widened. "...Luther."
"Well, look at that," Luther said, his voice deep and worn with a teasing edge. "Still sharp as ever, Ryuga. Though a bit slower than when you were younger, hm?"
Ryuga deadpanned, still holding the blade. "What the hell are you doing here, old man. Last I remember, you and your little fan club stopped stalking her years ago."
"Stalking? Rude." Luther held up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm not here under anyone's orders this time. In fact, my master doesn't even know I'm here."
"Then why?" Ryo's voice was cold, controlled now. "Why now, Luther?"
The old man tilted his head, golden strands shifting with the movement. "Because, my dear Ryo, Ren-kun's got his hands in places he shouldn't. Namely..." He raised a bony finger, "... your father. And by extension, the Gathering."
The air in the room changed instantly.
Ryo's fingers tightened around her cup. "What... did you just say?"
"He wants to use him," Luther said simply. "Don't ask me why -I don't know. But the information's clean. Full proof."
Ryuga narrowed his eyes. "Where'd you get this from?"
Luther smirked. "From a fuck who's half dead and half alive. Wonderful informant, though he smells like mold."
"...You haven't changed," Ryuga muttered.
"Of course not. I'm old, not boring." Luther spread his arms dramatically, then leaned in just enough for his smile to sharpen. "And honestly... if the whole Default Class is going to the Gathering, why should Ren be left behind?"
The silence that followed was heavy.
Ryo's heart pounded. The image of Ren disappearing beneath that bloody sea came back in flashes.
Ryuga exhaled slowly. "This just got messy."
Luther chuckled again, stepping back toward the shadows. "Oh, it was always messy. You two were just pretending it wasn't."
And with that, he vanished as quietly as he'd appeared—leaving the scent of salt and metal lingering in the air.