I Became A Bum In This Cruel World

It was raining when Aunt Chieko threw him out.

She hadn't even waited for him to come home.

Rei found his things outside the house after school, stacked beside the front door in two cardboard boxes and a few garbage bags. His suitcase was wedged underneath them. Rain had already soaked through one corner of the nearest box.

A sheet of plastic covered most of the pile.

At least she'd done that much.

Rei walked past his belongings and stopped in front of the door.

He wanted to knock.

Ask for food. Maybe a little money to get started. Anything that might keep him indoors for another night.

His father had died that morning. That should have counted for something.

His hand never reached the door.

Kuzunoha Masato was dead, which meant the money he sent Chieko every month was gone with him.

Rei stood there a little longer, then went back to his things. He pulled the plastic tighter over the boxes and suitcase, gathered what he could carry, and left.

Three days later, he was sleeping in a park.

A small tree near the back fence had grown sideways before bending up again. Rei had tied the plastic sheet between its lower branches and weighed down the edges with cardboard and whatever else he could find. One of his jackets covered a gap near the trunk, while his suitcase stood at the opening like a door. Some of his clothes were stuffed beneath the plastic where rain kept getting through.

The cardboard under him was damp.

The police had already chased him away several times.

The first officer told him he couldn't sleep in the park.

Rei asked where he was supposed to sleep.

The officer told him to move along.

So Rei did.

He came back later.

Tonight, rain covered the paths in shallow puddles and blurred the lamps beyond the trees. With weather like this, he doubted anyone would bother checking the back of the park before morning.

He sat with his knees up and searched through his school bag.

His fingers touched a cold can.

Rei pulled it out.

Coffee.

He'd forgotten about it.

Three days ago, the vending machine near the gym had swallowed his money without dropping the drink. Rei kicked the machine once, got nowhere, then found a metal ruler and opened the lower panel himself.

A teacher caught him halfway through.

The principal called him a troublemaker and spent fifteen minutes explaining the difference between a broken vending machine and vandalism.

Rei spent most of the lecture staring at the confiscated coffee on the desk.

They gave it back afterward.

Now it was in his hand again.

He hooked a finger under the tab, then stopped.

His stomach had been empty since morning. Coffee wasn't going to help.

Rei set the can beside his bag and reached behind one of the boxes for an apple.

There was a bruise near the top.

The fruit seller near the station had been arguing with a delivery driver when Rei walked past earlier. When he passed the cart a second time, the argument was still going.

The apple went into his pocket.

He wiped it on his shirt and took a bite.

It was sour, but he ate it anyway.

If Masato hadn't died, Rei wouldn't be here.

His father had spent most of Rei's life somewhere else. Work, apparently. Masato never explained much, and Rei stopped asking years ago.

He sent good money every month.

Enough that Chieko fed Rei, let him use the spare room, and tolerated having him around.

Rei hadn't thought much about the arrangement before.

Now that his belongings were sitting in garbage bags, it was hard not to.

He took another bite of the apple.

There were classmates he could have stayed with. He had tried that on the first day.

One of the guys Rei regularly bought lunch for came to the front gate and apologized because his parents didn't allow anyone to sleep over.

Rei knew both of the guy's parents were overseas.

He said it was fine and left.

After that, he stopped asking people.

His phone dying the next day made it easier.

Footsteps splashed along the park path.

Rei looked toward the opening in the plastic.

An old man in a transparent poncho was making his way through the rain.

Rei recognized him and looked back at his apple.

The man stopped outside the shelter.

"Move."

Rei glanced up. "Where?"

"Over."

Rei shifted enough to make room.

The old man crouched beside him with a grunt. He was one of the regulars around the park. Gray stubble, cheap sandals, several layers of clothing that never looked completely dry. The shoulder of his poncho had been patched with silver tape.

Rei didn't know his name.

The old man had never asked for his either.

"You eat?"

Rei lifted the apple.

The man looked at it, then at him.

"That's it?"

"It's an apple."

"I can see that."

Rei took another bite.

The old man's eyes narrowed.

"Where'd you get it?"

Rei kept chewing.

"You stole it."

Rei looked away.

"Idiot."

The old man jerked his thumb toward the road.

"Saionji food caravan's back."

Rei looked at him.

"The white vans. Soup and rice. They're handing it out near the station."

"Maybe tomorrow."

"They might not be there tomorrow."

"I'll find something."

The old man looked around the shelter, then at the apple in Rei's hand.

"Sure."

Rei leaned his head against the tree.

"I don't feel like walking."

"You're gonna get sick."

"Probably."

"And then?"

Rei shrugged.

"I'll deal with it."

"How?"

Rei looked at the apple.

"I haven't planned that far."

The old man grunted.

For a while, neither of them said anything.

Then something scraped against the cardboard beside Rei's leg.

He looked down.

The old man had picked up the canned coffee.

"Hey."

The man turned it over in his hand.

"Still sealed."

"Put it back."

Instead, he tucked it under his poncho.

Rei stared at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting you food."

"I said I'd go tomorrow."

"Yeah."

"That's mine."

The old man started to stand.

Rei reached for the can. The man knocked his hand aside.

"Quit it."

"You're stealing from a homeless teenager."

The old man looked at him, then down at his own soaked clothes.

"Look at me."

Rei let that one go.

"I'll bring something back," the old man said.

"You don't need my coffee for that."

"Maybe I want coffee."

"So you are stealing it."

The old man ignored him and pulled the poncho tighter around himself.

"Stay here."

Rei looked at the rain.

"I wasn't planning a trip."

The old man stepped out from under the plastic.

"Don't disappear."

"No one's going anywhere."

The man lifted one hand behind him and raised his middle finger.

Rei watched him walk toward the public restroom until the rain swallowed him.

Three days ago, Rei had been dragged into the principal's office over that can.

Now an old homeless man had taken it to get him dinner. Rei just hoped he actually came back with it.

Rei finished the apple.

He put the core inside an empty plastic bag and tied it shut. Rats already wandered around the bins after dark. He didn't need one crawling into the shelter because he'd been too lazy to deal with an apple core.

Water had started creeping under the cardboard near his foot.

He pulled his school bag away from it.

One sock had been wet since yesterday. His trousers were damp around the knees, and his shirt smelled faintly of the cheap hand soap from the public restroom.

He needed a proper wash and something more filling than an apple.

A place to charge his phone would be nice too.

School was tomorrow.

Rei stared out at the rain.

He still had his uniform. His books were dry enough. Getting there was technically possible.

Whether he wanted to show up smelling like a public restroom was another matter.

His father was dead.

He should probably be thinking about that instead.

Rei tried.

Masato rarely visited. When he called, he usually asked the same questions.

School okay?

Need money?

Giving your aunt trouble?

Rei usually told him school was fine, he didn't need anything, and Aunt Chieko was the one causing trouble.

Sometimes Masato laughed.

There had been birthday calls, a few meals, and one trip to an aquarium when Rei was younger. Most of what he remembered from that day was Masato checking his phone near the jellyfish tanks.

Rei wanted to mourn him.

He just didn't know what part of his father he was supposed to miss.

"Useless."

He reached into one of the boxes and searched for something dry enough to put under his head.

The first sweater he found was damp. His other jacket was holding up part of the shelter.

He dug deeper until his fingers caught on a piece of cloth that felt different from the rest.

Rei pulled out a small cotton bag.

It was plain black, with a thin drawstring at the top, small enough to fit in his palm.

He frowned.

He didn't remember packing it.

Then again, he hadn't packed most of this. Chieko had.

Maybe it belonged to Masato. She could have thrown some of his father's things in with Rei's without checking.

Rei squeezed the bag.

Something flat and stiff pressed against his fingers.

He loosened the drawstring and tipped the contents into his palm.

A card slid out.

Rei stopped digging through the box.

The card was black from edge to edge. No picture, no writing, nothing printed on either side.

He rubbed his thumb across the surface.

It was smooth. Too smooth for paper.

He checked the cotton bag again, but there was nothing else inside.

Rei turned the card over once more.

"Dad."

He held it between two fingers and angled it toward the nearest park lamp.

"I don't believe in miracles."

He studied the black surface for another second.

"But if this turns my life around, I'll forgive you."