Mamoru (Yugo Sasa) is a dweeby Japanese office drone who keeps to himself. His shell is as tough as a clam's, a colleague observes. One day when he is punched out by a co-worker, he quits his job out of shame.
His life seems to get worse as his bicycle, his only means of conveyance, starts disappearing bit by bit. First the seat goes missing, then the wheels, until all he has left is the bell. He even writes a note to the thief, asking him to just take the whole thing and be done with it, but a reply note informs him that the taker of the parts is not a thief, but God.
The practical joker -- it is a prank, right? -- continues the ruse by sending Mamoru a list of all the places where he can find the bicycle parts. As his quest to put the bike back together progresses, he meets a street peddler, some international students, and other people who help coax him out into the world. "Sometimes you have to rely on others to find what you're looking for," an old beachcomber observes, summing up the 21-minute film's themes.
Director Dean Yamada and screenwriter Yu Shibuyu lovingly mix together a tone that's slightly mystical while remaining earthbound and tactile. I loved the score by Dana Niu, which eschews melody for musical tones and pulses that feed the film's emotional resonance.
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