Late-Night Foodie (2)

Sato Arata tugged at the collar of his shirt, still not used to how loose it felt.

It was an old thing he found in the back of his makeshift closet. Plain, faded around the seams, the kind of casual clothes he only kept because throwing them away felt wasteful

He rushed up to the attic of the elderly facility where he secretly lived. His heart dropping as he checked the time and remembered the bus delay from earlier, he hadn’t exactly had the luxury to be picky.

Now, standing at the edge of the sidewalk, he glanced up from his thoughts and felt his mind go momentarily blank.

The city at night was… louder than he remembered.

LED signboards flashed discounts and limited-time offers. Streetlights pooled golden circles along the road, each one claimed by people standing, waiting, moving.

Oil crackling over grills. Soy sauce thickens in the air.

Takoyaki sizzling in round molds, yakisoba tossed high in shining arcs, skewers lined up in neat rows, glistening under the lamps.

Arata’s eyes widened in awe.

“Since when was this street so busy?” he murmured.

He thought his empty stomach was making him appreciate the wide variety of street food he saw.

A sudden high-pitched whine cut through the murmur of the crowd.

“Eeeeh? But I want it! I want the caramel apple!”

Arata blinked and turned.

Near a stall where bright red candy apples shone under a heat lamp, a little girl clung to her mother’s sleeve.

Her cheeks were puffed out, eyes watery but stubborn, the picture of small-scale tragedy.

“Sweetie, it’s too expensive,” her mother said, voice tight but gentle.

Her father shifted awkwardly beside them, glancing at the sign and then at his wallet. “We already bought taiyaki, remember? And we still need to get groceries on the way back.”

“But I finished it already!” the small girl insisted, stamping her foot.

“Just one more! Please?” she whined again.

Arata’s gaze followed the father’s, landing on the small plastic board clipped to the stall.

[ Caramel Apples - 500 yen. ]

Arata instinctively took a step back.

Five hundred yen for something that would be gone in five minutes.

For a kid, it was magic on a stick. For parents doing mental math on dinner, bills, and commute… it was a luxury.

“Can’t blame them,” he thought.

“That’s… more than a cheap bento,” he murmured to himself.

He stepped closer to the stall.

The vendor, a middle-aged man with a white towel wrapped around his head, called out cheerfully, “Welcome, welcome! Caramel apples, candied grapes, chocolate bananas! Everything’s fresh!”

The little girl’s whining dropped to a sulky sniffle.

Her mother crouched to her height, whispering something about a treat next time. The father kept his eyes on the menu, jaw tight.

Arata-kun’s gaze flicked over the handwritten list.

“The prices are normal for the snacks,” he thought, feeling the corner of his mouth lift faintly.

He remembered the time when he would intentionally be silent whilst walking down this street a year ago with his parents.

Even from a young age, Arata was painfully aware of his parents’ financial situation.

Yet his mom would ask him if he wanted anything with a soft smile.

Arata-kun would always decline politely.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted again by the loud chants of a nearby street vendor.

“I’m just overthinking today. What is wrong with me?” he muttered to himself lowly.

Arata’s stomach grumbled.

He glanced over to the other vendor, shouting at the line of customers he had.

“Welcome, welcome! Caramel apples, candied grapes, chocolate bananas! We have it all!”

Arata-kun blinked in confusion, comparing the two street vendors.

“Aren’t they basically selling the same stuff?” he said.

Then it hit him.

“Wait. Why is the other vendor shouting at the customers in HIS line?. Aren’t they already waiting to buy from him?”

Arata looked around.

People weren’t just crowding and forming lines to buy. Few were switching between shops, and most just gave up trying to buy the same thing and left.

“Fascinating,” he murmured to himself.

The street vendor in front of him snapped.

“Are you here to buy something or not?” he asked Arata in a stern voice.

Sato Arata turned back to face the vendor and glanced at the girl, who was still stubbornly asking her parents for a caramel apple.

His gaze darkened as he saw so many caramel apples before him. Still not sold despite being so popular.

Arata looked at the street vendor in the eye and said.

“I can help you sell all of this today, Sir.”

The street vendor gave him a puzzled look and then sighed.

“You can try all you want. I’ve been having barely a single sale for days,” he said.

“I’m not joking here. Suppose I am unable to help you sell everything here. I’ll pay for it all,” said Arata-kun, his lips already curling back into a vile smile.