Lunch..

Lee Sensei took Itsuo and me to a small restaurant a few blocks away from the academy.
It wasn’t fancy, just a narrow place wedged between larger buildings. The smell of oil and grilled meat lingered everywhere. It clung to the walls and soaked into the wooden tables, settling into the place as if it had been there for years.

Workers filled most of the tables, uniforms loosened or half-removed, who had come straight from their shifts.

The prices were cheap, the servings were large, and no one stayed longer than necessary once they were done eating. 

We sat down.

“Let’s eat," Lee sensei said and ordered a bit of everything on the menu. “Don’t be shy, eat all you want”.

“Thank you, sensei.”

“Alright, Let’s eat!!” Itsuo yelled out.

“Have some manners..” I said and took my bowl of rice.

We ate, kept eating, and didn’t slow down even after the table started to pile up with empty plates.

Lee Sensei ordered without hesitation. He didn’t check the menu again after the first few dishes, only raised his hand whenever the waitress passed. Plates arrived one after another, bowls stacking near the edge of the table. Empty dishes were cleared and replaced without pause.
The waitress tried to say something once the table started looking a bit.. excessive.

But Lee sensei waved her off without lifting his eyes. She hesitated for a moment, then stepped away.

Itsuo dug in like he hadn’t eaten in days, shoveling food into his mouth with reckless speed. Rice spilled onto the table. Sauce stained the corner of his mouth. He barely slowed down.

“This is unfair,” he said, chewing loudly. “Cleaning that whole area before lunch is straight-up abuse.”

“It’s a punishment, and you deserved it.” Lee Sensei replied.

“That doesn’t make it reasonable!”

I ate too, though at a slower pace. The taste barely registered. I chewed and swallowed out of habit.

My eyes drifted across the room without settling on anything in particular.

I was noticing everything and nothing at the same time. Conversations overlapped. Cutlery clinked against plates. Someone laughed near the entrance, loud enough to draw a few glances.

My legs were stretched farther than they should have been beneath the table. The muscles still felt tight from training and repeated battles, the joints carrying the dull reminder of overuse.

But that’s not what I'm worried about. My mind kept moving back and forth, my thoughts spiraled into-

“Ah!”

Someone tripped.

“Whoa!”

Chairs scraped loudly across the floor.

I flinched and looked up.

Someone had been walking past our table toward the exit, a drink in one hand, his attention fixed on his phone had tripped over my leg. My legs, stretched too far out, were directly in his path.
He stumbled but didn’t fall.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry.” I spoke out.

His beer can tilted, liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim.

For a moment, a name almost slipped out of my mouth. I swallowed it.
He caught himself, regaining balance before his beer spilled, then turned toward me.

His brows drew together, irritation flashing briefly before easing.
“…Sorry?” he said, then hesitated. “You should watch where you’re stretching your legs. That could’ve ended badly!”

“Yeah..” I replied. “My bad. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t leave right away. His gaze lingered, moving over my face as if he was trying to remember something.

“Hey, have we met before?” 

“Uh.. I don’t think so. No.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying me in silence. People brushed past behind him, the flow of the restaurant continuing around us.

“Huh,” he muttered. “I feel like I've seen you before. somewhere..”

The thought seemed to bother him. He finally shook his head, waved it off, and turned towards the door.

“Be careful next time!”

Then he left. I stayed where I was, chopsticks still in my hand.

Across the table, Lee sensei glanced at me, then toward the exit.

“Someone you know?”

“No.” I replied and sat down.

Itsuo didn’t comment. He watched me over the rim of his cup for a brief moment, then returned his attention to the table.

I looked outside through the restaurant window, a familiar car was parked along the curb, half too close to the sidewalk. It wasn’t properly parked.

And, to be honest, he isn’t the type of person to sweat over something trivial like parking cars properly. If the police put a fine on his vehicle, He is the type of person who would tear the fine ticket to shreds and ride away.

Outside in the car, I saw Hammer Head Ojisan.

He sat behind the wheel, chewing on a donut. His strange, hammer head shark helmet rested on the passenger seat beside him. Crumbs dotted his shirt. Another donut sat on his lap, untouched for now.

He looked the same as he did in my previous life.

After my parents died, a few of their friends offered me places to stay. Spare rooms cleared out on short notice. Futons laid down quietly. They spoke carefully, choosing their words.
I couldn’t accept it. Living comfortably while relying on others never sat right with me.

So I slept in a public park among the homeless.

The cardboard flattened beneath me. A thin blanket when I could get one. The city never truly slept. Sirens passed in the distance. Footsteps echoed at odd hours. I learned which corners were safer, which people to avoid, and which hours passed with the least trouble.

That’s where Hammer Head Ojisan found me.

He didn’t listen when I tried to explain, he yelled out at me, grabbed me by the collar and dragged me to his house without warning, ignoring every excuse I gave along the way.

My pride didn’t matter.

My reasons didn’t matter.

His wife took one look at me when we arrived and made a decision immediately.

She didn’t hesitate or ask questions.

She fed me until I was full. She scolded me when I tried to sneak outside. She worried over me and told me things as if I’m just as much of a ‘son’ to her as Roshan.

I couldn’t refuse.

Roshan and Hammer Head Ojisan treated me like family, in their own loud and awkward way. They didn’t soften their edges or change how they spoke. They simply pulled me in and expected me to stay.

Outside the restaurant, Roshan stood near the curb, holding his beer while arguing with his dad. His hands moved as he spoke, voice carrying faintly through the glass. Hammer Head Ojisan leaned out of the car window, shouting back without concern.

They were both still there.

I’m glad they’re doing well in this life..