“Steam and Silence”

(Setting: a ramen shop, late night — moments after Samuel’s underground fight)

The rain hasn’t stopped since the bell rang. It drips down from Samuel’s hoodie as he pushes through the door of a tiny ramen spot tucked between a pawn shop and a flickering neon motel sign. The bell above the door jingles softly, too gentle for the chaos still ringing in his skull.

He sits at the counter, blood drying on his knuckles, the faint tremor of adrenaline still in his hands. The chef eyes him warily — he’s seen Samuel before, though never long enough to ask questions.

Steam rises from a bowl placed in front of him. Miso, extra broth. The kind he always orders after a fight.

The TV in the corner hums with static before settling on a late-night news anchor. Something about “another illegal fight raid” plays in the background, but Samuel tunes it out. He stares into the ramen, watching the reflection of the flickering lights tremble on the surface.

Then he hears a familiar sound — a door creaking open. Footsteps. He doesn’t need to look up to know who it is. His voice comes low, roughened by exhaustion and something heavier beneath it.

Samuel: “You shouldn’t be out this late. Not after what you just saw.”

He doesn’t turn right away. Just lets the steam cloud his face, hiding the flicker of emotion he refuses to show.

Samuel: “I didn’t want you to see me like that… but I guess it’s too late now.”

The rain hammers harder against the window. Inside, the silence between words feels louder than the storm.