Reborn in Tokyo: From Heiress to Global Tycoon

Chapter 251 Micro Avalanche

pat, pat.

Raindrops pelted heavily on the blue and white tarpaulin.

At the edge of the plaza in Ueno Park, several rusty metal supports form a long stretch of sheltered area.

The incessant rains of late May made the air hot and humid. The stench emanating from the sewers mingled with the sour smell of people who hadn't bathed in a long time, fermenting in this cramped space.

The bricklayer, Nakamura, was wrapped in a thin, moldy blanket and huddled in a corner of the cement steps.

His body was trembling uncontrollably.

Two weeks ago, Songpu Construction officially entered bankruptcy liquidation. All seven of its port area construction sites were seized by the court.

The news reported that the arrogant president of the company, Matsuura, jumped from the top floor of the Keio Plaza Hotel and was smashed to pieces.

The contractor absconded overnight with the remaining tens of thousands of yen, leaving behind hundreds of low-level construction workers who would not receive a single penny of their wages.

Matsuura is dead. Meanwhile, bureaucrats in the Ministry of Finance are still proclaiming on television that the fundamentals are healthy.

All that was left for Nakamura and other lowly workers was prolonged hunger and despair.

The economic prosperity did not benefit them; instead, the economic crisis struck them first.

Nakamura's stomach was cramping from extreme hunger. Acid gushed into his throat, burning his esophagus. Between his toes, the skin on his feet, soaked in rainwater, had begun to fester and turn white, emitting a foul odor.

He was surrounded by low-income laborers who, like him, had lost their livelihoods.

Some people leaned blankly against rusty iron pillars, their eyes staring vacantly at the muddy water at their feet. Others had even exhausted the strength to tremble, like sour, rotten shells waiting for their bodies to come to a standstill under this cramped rain shelter.

The rain is getting heavier.

A deathly silence of despair completely enveloped everyone's mouth and nose.

Sudden.

A low, physical vibration spread along the waterlogged asphalt road.

The ripples on the surface of the puddle began to tremble slightly.

Nakamura slowly raised his head, his bloodshot eyes turning slightly as he looked into the depths of the rain.

"Boom—"

The low-frequency roar of the heavy-duty diesel engine pierced through the dense rain, approaching from afar.

next second.

Several blinding beams of headlights tore through the gray rain and mist.

Three pure white, ten-ton refrigerated trucks with huge black "SA Logistics" letters printed on their sides drove through the water in the square and came to a smooth stop in front of the rain shelter.

The car door opened.

More than a dozen staff members wearing matching black rainproof uniforms jumped off the vehicle.

Under the rain shelter, the homeless people, who had been waiting to die, shrank back in fear. Some even tried to hide in the deeper shadows. In this harsh winter abandoned by the government (an economic winter), the sudden appearance of large convoys and uniforms often meant violent dispersal by the Metropolitan Police Department or the City Hall.

"Hurry up. The rain is too heavy. Put the rain shelter up first."

A lead worker, holding an explosion-proof flashlight, gave instructions at a rapid pace.

"You, and you, go and lift the insulated box from vehicle number two. Be careful with the temperature; don't let rainwater get in."

"yes!"

Two workers quickly went to the back of the truck and pulled the metal handle.

"Splash!"

The roller shutter door was pushed upwards forcefully.

The heavy metal supports were quickly stretched and secured in the muddy water. Several people worked together to lift down several huge industrial-grade insulated boxes and quickly set up two makeshift tents in the rain. The heavy boxes landed on the folding table with a dull thud.

The refugees under the rain shelter still trembled as they stared at the uninvited guests, their cloudy eyes filled with wariness and suspicion.

"Click".

The metal latches on the huge insulated box at the very front were undone. The heavy insulated lid was then lifted off.

An extremely rich, scalding hot steam, a mixture of beef fat and the sweetness of onions, instantly pierced through the cold rain and the surrounding sour smell, spreading wildly in all directions.

The deathly silence under the rain shelter was shattered in that instant.

In the darkness, someone swallowed a large mouthful of saliva very loudly.

"Is it... food?" A hoarse voice rang out from the crowd, trembling with disbelief. "Meat... I smell meat..."

The refugees stared wide-eyed at the insulated box emitting white steam, their eyes bloodshot and filled with glare.

But no one dared to take the first step.

Hundreds of construction workers and bankrupts, who had lost their livelihoods, instinctively clutched their empty pockets. In their minds, a hot bento box sold from a refrigerated truck would cost at least a thousand yen. They couldn't even afford a hundred-yen coin. If they were to rob them, the transparent riot shields and batons held by the security personnel would be far from ineffective.

The agony of hunger and the fear of violence clashed in the rain.

It wasn't until the lead staff member raised the megaphone in his hand that the situation changed.

"SA Group Emergency Assistance! Free hot meals! Free clothing distribution!"

The metallic electronic loudspeaker pierced through the rain and boomed across the square.

"Line up! Everyone gets a turn! Don't push!"

"Free...free?"

Nakamura's chapped lips trembled slightly, and his mind went blank for a moment.

This word is like a spell to break a seal.

The stalemate was shattered in that instant.

"Give it to me! Please, please give me one!"

The crowd erupted in a frenzied roar, surging forward. Hundreds of bodies, reeking of sour stench, were pushed and trampled in the muddy water. Some people tripped and fell into puddles, but immediately scrambled to their feet, afraid of falling behind even a step.

The aroma of meat sent a violent spasm through Nakamura's stomach, unlike anything he had ever experienced before. His previously weak legs suddenly found a surge of violent strength. He ripped off the moldy thin blanket covering him, staggered into the cold rain, and frantically shoved his way through the crowd, desperately trying to squeeze into the rapidly gathering wave of people.

"Keep order! Line up! No one will be allowed to skip the line!"

Several burly security personnel immediately stepped forward and used transparent riot shields to forcefully hold back the pressure in the chaotic crowd, creating a passage.

Oh... oh right, there's a queue.

Driven by hunger, the people, seeing the security personnel's riot shields and bound by long-standing habits, quickly formed a queue.

"Take this. Move forward. Don't block the way behind you."

The staff distributing the supplies moved extremely quickly, like a precise assembly line.

Steaming bowls of Hokkaido F1 beef rice bowls, along with a pair of disposable wooden chopsticks, were handed to each person in line.

Unlike government-sponsored administrative aid, there is no unnecessary small talk here. There is no need for those who are starving to be led by the hand by government officials and to say a lot of words of thanks in front of the camera. There is also no bureaucratic fake smiles and condolences. They do not need to listen to government officials talk for half an hour about how much importance the higher-ups attach to them.

The cargo bed of another truck next to it was also open.

"Please collect your clothes here! Once you've collected them, leave the passage immediately!"

One by one, dry, basic clothing items packed in transparent moisture-proof bags were quickly tossed out and landed in the hands of those whose skin was turning purple from the cold.

Nakamura was pushed and shoved by the crowd behind him to the table.

"Next."

A heavy lunchbox was stuffed into his hands.

Nakamura clutched the piping hot beef rice bowl tightly in both hands, his fingers almost digging into the plastic casing. Through the thin plastic container, the intense heat instantly penetrated his skin and traveled into his cold, stiff palms.

He retreated under the rain shelter and shakily tore open the packaging of the disposable chopsticks.

"Smack."

The wooden chopsticks were broken apart.

Ignoring the fact that it was too hot to eat, he picked up a large clump of rice mixed with rich meat juice and soft, sticky onions and wolfed it into his mouth.

Fat and carbohydrates exploded in his mouth. The scalding hot food slid down his esophagus into his stomach, instantly relieving the spasms and acid reflux that had tormented him for two days. The heat traveled through his veins, quickly spreading throughout his frozen limbs and bones.

Nakamura chewed his food in large bites. Tears mingled with the raindrops on his face, dripping onto the edge of the lunchbox.

He raised his head.

The pure white trucks remained parked quietly in the rain. The huge black "SA" logo on the side of the truck stood out clearly in the dim light.

The government and banks abandoned them, treating them as scrap materials to fill bad debts.

And this black letter, on this damp, rainy night, gave them a second life.