A heavy silence fell over the ramen shop.
Finally, it was Fujiwara Chika who broke the quiet. "Masao-kouhai...you're a bully."
Her usual vibrant energy was gone, replaced by a tone full of grievance and a slight tremble that hinted at incoming tears. Her large eyes, glistening with unshed moisture, were fixed on Masao, looking ready to spill over at any moment.
Seeing her like this, Masao knew he had taken the joke too far. If Chika was angry with thunder and fury, it was probably an act. But this quiet, wounded silence? This was real.
"Sorry, I was just joking. Here, have them back," he said, using his quick reflexes to return both the chashu and the egg to her bowl before the first tear could fall. "We're good now, right?"
"Hmph. Not that easily." Chika turned her head away. Though she saw the stolen treasures safely returned, she wasn't about to forgive him so readily.
Not after he'd made such a fool of her.
Hearing the shift in her tone, Masao breathed an internal sigh of relief. The crisis was mostly averted; he just needed to stick the landing.
"Here, this is for you, Fujiwara-senpai. Please accept it as my apology."
With that, he picked up his own marinated egg and placed it in her bowl.
Chika, who had her arms crossed and her head turned away in a show of anger, cracked open one eye to assess the new situation.
The combination of "senpai" and half an egg finally dissolved her remaining anger. Still, she put on a show of being mildly displeased.
"Fine. I suppose this is what a senior must do. I'll forgive you this time."
With the little drama concluded, not only did the atmosphere around Masao and Chika lighten, but Saburo Kojima and the shop master also sighed in unison.
Saburo Kojima thought to himself, 'Using his own egg to appease her? You've got spirit, kid. But now you won't be able to experience the ramen in its perfect, complete form.'
He shook his head feeling a pang of loss.
Just as he had this thought, the ramen master placed a small plate in front of Masao. On it sat half a marinated egg.
"On the house," the master said simply. He gave a single, silent nod to Masao before retreating back into his stoic silence.
Witnessing this, Saburo Kojima nodded in understanding.
'I see. A complimentary egg to restore balance. The ramen returns to its ideal state. As expected of the master; he understands the true way.'
—
Masao wasn't privy to these intricate philosophies. To him, half an egg was no great loss. But since it was offered, he accepted it gladly.
"Oh, thank you, Master," he said, depositing the egg into his broth so it could soak up the flavors—his preferred method.
Just then, Chika called for his attention.
"Masao-kouhai, look, look!"
She held her chopsticks in one hand and a spoon in the other. The spoon was filled with a few noodles, a bit of broth, and some toppings.
"It's mini-ramen! Isn't it cute?"
Masao shook his head with a wry smile.
"It is cute. I used to eat like that when I was a kid."
"What? Are you saying I'm a child?" Chika retorted indignantly. "Masao-kouhai, you just don't get it. This 'mini-ramen' that contains a bit of everything in one bite—it's the one and the all! It's a state of ramen enlightenment!"
Her proclamation earned silent nods of agreement from the other two men in the shop, as if she'd said a profound truth of the world.
As if to prove her point, Chika opened her mouth wide and ate the entire spoonful in one go.
"So delicious!" she hummed, her eyes closing in bliss.
Watching this, Masao found himself swallowing a mouthful of saliva. For some reason, his own desire to eat his ramen suddenly intensified.
"Really? Let me try it too."
Imitating her, he assembled his own "mini-ramen" in his spoon and ate it.
Chika, already preparing her next spoonful, watched him expectantly. "Well? Isn't it delicious?"
Masao nodded.
"The flavors are complex. But it's a bit too fussy and time-consuming. The noodles might get soft and lose their texture."
To this, Chika revealed a confident grin. "Fuhuhu~ I came prepared! I ordered the firmest noodles. That won't be a problem."
"Fujiwara-senpai, you're an expert," Masao praised her.
"But... I still prefer to eat it like this—" With that, Masao used his chopsticks to grab a large clump of noodles and slurped them up with immense satisfaction. After a few quick chews, he swallowed. "Now this is how you truly enjoy ramen!"
To emphasize his point, he then ate half a slice of chashu in one bite, his face radiating deep fulfillment for both his palate and his stomach.
As if infected by his enthusiasm, Chika, not to be outdone, put down her spoon and also picked up her chopsticks, slurping up her noodles with gusto.
A sudden, competitive energy filled the air as the two of them began eating their ramen and toppings with renewed speed and vigor, occasionally lifting their bowls to take hearty gulps of soup.
The scene had somehow turned intensely spirited.
Hearing the vigorous slurping, Saburo Kojima paused, his own chopsticks hovering in mid-air.
He considered himself a ramen connoisseur, one who pursued perfection in every step of the process. Watching the two enjoy their meal with such abandon, his eyes grew distant, the sounds pulling him into a memory.
'This way of eating... It completely defies the aesthetics of ramen. And yet... I, too, had an era like that.'
He remembered his school days, using his limited allowance to occasionally visit a ramen shop with friends, enjoying the noodles without a care in the world.
A single tear traced a path down his cheek.
'When... did I become this kind of adult? The shackles of work and life have bound me, making me unconsciously follow rigid rules, even in how I eat a bowl of ramen. But ramen is meant to be enjoyed! What's the point of all these constraints? Anyone who can sincerely enjoy ramen is a ramen connoisseur!'
As if he had grasped a fundamental truth, Saburo Kojima took off his suit jacket. He, too, began to slurp his noodles loudly, emulating the two young people.
'Run wild, this youth! This is the brilliance I have lost.'
—
Meanwhile, having eaten a lot of noodles and drunk a fair amount of broth, Masao started to feel a bit heavy.
He reached for the container of garlic to refresh his palate.
Suddenly, he felt his hand brush against something.
Looking up, he saw it was Fujiwara Chika. She had reached for the garlic at the exact same time.
Through the steam rising from their bowls, Masao could see that from eating quickly, a fine sheen of sweat had formed on Chika's forehead, and her cheeks were flushed a delicate pink.
She happened to look up at that very moment, her blue eyes meeting his, filled with a questioning confusion.
When cuteness and a hint of allure appear simultaneously on a young girl's face, the lethality to a man's heart is undeniable.
Masao felt his heart give a sudden, hard thump. His outstretched hand retracted as if shocked, a blush creeping onto his own face.
"Fujiwara-senpai," he said, "you go first."
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