Hakata Tonkotsu Ramens Volume 6 Chapter 1

Seasonal Opening Ceremony

One day in late September during the climax of the pennant race for professional baseball.

"Lin! What was ya doin'!?"

Someone shouted in Hakata dialect, his yell echoing in the baseball stadium in f.u.kuoka.

The owner of the voice was a regular player for the Hakata Tonkotsu Ramens gra.s.s-lot baseball team as the one protecting second-base – Zenji Banba.

"You got no reason to miss that!"

The person subjected to Banba's anger was his partner, Xianming Lin. "Shut up. Don't yell at me." He replied back boldly.

Today was one of their practice games. The opposing team was made of regular people, and the Tonkotsu Nine were struggling with a pitcher with an irregular form. They were unable to hit one and could not get any points. They were tantalizingly unable to make many hits.

The score was one to two once the eighth inning ended. They managed to keep the lead with Saitou's pitching strength. However, in the top of the ninth inning, they got two outs and there was trouble at third base. The batter had hit a ground ball. It was an easy catch, but the shortstop, Lin, had tried to catch it. The ball pa.s.sed between his legs. Two runners made it home. The score was now three to two. They had lost the advantage in the last moments of the game.

Saitou paled seeing Lin's fatal error. Even their coach Genzo Gouda gripped his head in shame.

Banba started yelling harsh words at him. "They came from behind because of you! How 'bout you reflect on your mistake!"

"Haa?" Lin glared back and shouted. "I'm not the only one to blame! It was the pitcher who had allowed the ball to get hit!"

"Dontcha put the blame on others!"

"Ha! Says the guy who got out with three strikes so easily."

"Whatcha say!?"

The middle-fielders began to argue between the first and second base.

"Hey, come on now," the first baseman, José Martinez, quickly ran up to them to try and pacify them. "Calm down, you two."

It was always his job to stand between them and break up the fight when they were worked up like this. Whenever a fight broke out, Martinez was the first to take action. He was a kind and dependable man for his friends.

"Don't nag at me for making a little error!"

"That ain't little! If we lose, it's your fault!"

"You shouldn't blame others either! You batted three times and never once got a hit!"

"Wh, why you……!"

"Hey, don't fight." Banba and Lin had grabbed one other by the collar, and Martinez pulled them apart and stated, shrugging. "I'll make up the one point difference by hitting a homerun."

The two reluctantly released their grip on each other and broke apart. After Martinez managed to calm them down, the match restarted. They were able to get an out with a fast ground ball, and the Tonkotsu Nine returned to the benches.

The Ramens would have their final turn at offence in the bottom of this inning. The batting order would start with Enokida.

"If one of you get out there, Mar's turn will come around. We gotta get the fourth batter in there."

The nine players formed a circle in front of the benches. The speaker was their coach Genzo.

"We're gonna turn this game around in this inning!"

'Yeah!" The nine of them shouted back in high spirits.

They broke up and went into positions. The first batter Enokida went into the batter's box. The second batter Yamato was getting ready in the next batter's circle. The third batter Banba began practicing his swing in front of the benches. Everyone was focused, determined to make sure the fourth batter – their slugger – would get to bat.

Lin was making a sullen face, watching them from the benches. He was the seventh to bat. His turn would not come for awhile. In fact, there was a high possibility he would not bat.

"Hey."

Lin spoke to the coach Genzo beside him.

"The fourth batter is the best in the team, isn't it?"

He had dabbled with a sudden thought that came to him.

There was a tendency for the fourth batter to be the strongest hitter in the baseball sport. In professional baseball, usually foreign players brought from the Americas were resigned to be the fourth batter. The Ramens' fourth batter was also someone from the Dominican Republic – Martinez. He had a large muscular body, over two meters tall, and had thick arms. He had the physique to easily send a ball flying afar.

"Yeah, in a way," Genzo nodded ambiguously.

"There are lots of ways to define a good batter, but the fourth batter is the one who becomes the team's pillar."

"Then why isn't the fourth batter the first to go?"

Lin did not ask this to question his coach's choice on their batting order. He was just curious.

"If you have the best batter up first, he would get more turns to bat."

Lin thought if it was arranged that way, the number of times the strongest batter would bat would increase, and they could get more points.

However, that was apparently not the case. Genzo shook his head and grinned. "The important role the fourth batter has to do is to make a chance for others and to rack up points."

Genzo explained that no matter how much endurance the fourth player had, not all of their hits were going to be home runs. And it would be difficult for him to solely score points. Baseball was a sport where nine people were needed, and not just for defense; for offense as well. For the fourth batter to get their team the most points, they needed runners preceding him. If any of the three batters before him make it to a base, the fourth batter's turn would come around, giving them a chance. The batting order was arranged so the players with the highest chances of making hits and getting to bases were first to further increase the possibility of getting more points.

Genzo pointed to Enokida over in the batter's box. "The first batter has to make it to a base."

Hence Enokida was the first to bat because of his high chance in getting on base.

"The second batter will make a bunt, and if the runner can get to the next base with a hit-and-run or with a steal that'd be even better."

The second batter, Yamato, was a skilled player who specialized in making subtle maneuvers. And then connecting with the next batter, the third one up was Banba – a mid-distance batter. He was good batting on the right side and could hit far. He was fast, so there was little risk in attempting a double play.

"Each one of them play a role."

Genzo explained to him that the three best batters in the Ramens were put first so they could have the best chance to get the fourth batter up to bat.

"So you're saying one person isn't enough for offense?"

"Correct," Genzo nodded. "That's what baseball is."

The other team's pitcher had finished practicing, and the Ramens' offense began. Enokida made it on base with a foul ball. Genzo did not make a sign, but Yamato went for a safety bunt. He ended up getting out, but Enokida made it to the next base.

"They know what their roles are." Genzo stated while watching the player standing in the batter's box. "The fourth batter's role is to save the team out of a pinch."

"Lin, don't worry about that error."

Martinez had been practicing his swings in front of the benches and turned around to face Lin and placed his large palm on Lin's head.

"Leave the rest to me."

After he gave him a smirk, he headed to the next batter's circle.

"……It's not like it was bothering me," Lin replied back, casting his gaze downward.

The third batter, Banba, had hit the ball between the first and second base, but the ball was caught. Nonetheless, Enokida made it to third base.

They had two outs and one person on third. They had the chance to level out the points with this next hit.

And finally the fourth batter Martinez's turn had come. The opponent's pitcher looked exhausted as he had been pitching all the way until the ninth inning. The pitcher must have let his guard down as he made a careless pitch to Martinez. It was a fast strike in the dead center, and Martinez would not pa.s.s that up. He made a full swing with such force they could hear the fierce rush of the wind as the bat hit the ball back.

The white ball flew high into the refres.h.i.+ng autumn sky. The Tonkotsu Nine hung out of the benches, watching the trajectory of the ball. The ball made a large arch and disappeared beyond the grounds. It was a home run hit out of the park.

The pitcher hung his head on the mound. Martinez tossed aside his bat and pointed to the benches – to Lin. "Did you see that? I did it. Like I said I would." He stated with a proud expression. He then made a fist and raised it in the air.

Martinez leisurely ran around the diamond.

Genzo smiled as he applauded his feats. "I reckon' you can say the fourth's batter's role is to also push the team through when the scores are close."

Enokida had returned home from the third base. The Tonkotsu Nine gathered around the home plate and welcomed Martinez. They finished the game with two runs and a home run. The score was three to four. The singular swing from their slugger had saved their team.

Top of the First Inning

Veracruz was the largest port city in the country facing the Gulf of Mexico and was a prominent resort spot. A five and six hour drive out from the capitol would bring you to a desert where dry cactus were growing in and a view of the southern part of the country covered with palm trees. The city, where summer was everlasting and was endowed in its unique culture, was overflowing with people all across central America and just as many tourists from other countries there. It looked like a peaceful tourist city at first glance, but underneath there were constant bloodshed from skirmishes among drug dealing organizations.

The 'Los Eses' was a rising drug cartel based in Veracruz. It was a multi-national criminal organization that was newly formed in this city, after a handful of surviving members of the Veracruz Cartel was dismantled nine years ago and had members more multiple countries than just Mexico. The drug lord Ramiro Sanchez was serving his time in jail presently, so they spent every waking moment fighting opposing organizations and the police in order to protect his turf.

The Los S's members consisted of former military personnel, former police officers, and hitmen. All of them were given code names starting from the number one, such as S-1 (Ese Uno), S-2 (Ese Dos). The S letter to their names was based off of the boss of the Veracruz Cartel: the initial for Sanchez.

S-1 – also known as Uno – headed to a warehouse which served as their hideout in Veracruz. He was one of the few members from j.a.panese descent in the organization as well as a former member of the Veracruz Cartel. After a few minutes of driving, he could see the hideout. It was a white building. And in the vacant spot of land right next to it, several members of the cartel were playing soccer. It was laughable to watch grown-up men running around innocently like a child, but upon closer examination Uno noticed they were not kicking a soccer ball; they were kicking a human's severed head. It was the head of a journalist they had killed the other day.

"Hey, Ocho."

Uno called out to the man aiming to shoot the head into the goal as he got out of the car. "Come over here for a minute." He beckoned him over.

Ocho had missed. The Mexican wore a straw fedora, an awful looking Hawaiian s.h.i.+rt and faded colored jeans. "What do you want? This is the worst timing." He strode over to Uno while muttering complaints.

This man named Ocho – S-8 – was the eighth member to join the Los Eses. He was formerly a police officer in Mexico, but he was let go for being corrupt and became a drug smuggler. Since his wife was j.a.panese, he was able to speak j.a.panese as well. He tended to careless insert himself in people's business, but he was qualified enough for their next job.

"You're going with us to j.a.pan. Orders from the boss."

Uno stated.

"Is it for that plan?" Ocho asked while stroking his beard.

The plan he was referring to was the advancement to Asia. Uno – a j.a.panese descendant – was chosen to go as a representative member to be dispatched to j.a.pan.

"Yeah, it is."

"Got it. I'll get ready."

Uno watched Ocho turn and walk away before heading inside the building. Inside, there were large crates of drugs and weapons stored in the s.p.a.cious warehouse.

Uno went up to one of the nearby members and asked. "Hey, where is Quatro?"

"Quatro went to Colombia." The man replied. "He said he went to buy a submarine for smuggling."

That was the first time Uno had heard about it. "What? When will he back?"

"Don't know. He probably won't be back for another week."

This isn't good, Uno sighed. He was planning to leave for j.a.pan right away. He could not wait a week for him.

I guess I'll just have to find someone else to come along in his place. Uno looked around the area to find a stand-in. There was a boxing match going on in an open s.p.a.ce further inside the warehouse. Other members were engaged in combat while everyone else was betting 500 pesos on who would win. They had rules set where they could use weapons if they chose to; the fighting served as combat practice, a past time, as well as entertainment, but since all the members were ruffians many were left heavily injured and teetering on life and death after the matches.

Presently, S-12 (Ese Doce) stood in the ring, proud of having the best arm strength within the organization. He was ranked as the third most popular among the Los Eses members, and everyone was betting on him, the tough guy from Honduras. His opponent was someone Uno did not recognize. The man was young, long and slender and wore a Panama hat with sungla.s.ses.

"Hey, who is that guy?"

Uno asked, pointing to the man.

"He's the newbie – Treinta." One of the men collecting the bid money replied while counting the bills. "This is his debut fight too; what terrible luck."

S-30. Uno recalled hearing that a new member whose nationality was unknown had joined their ranks recently. So that's him? According to rumors, he's a hitman who uses a blade, but just how strong is he?

Uno observed Treinta. Facing a match while wearing sungla.s.ses showed guts. Usually people would take them off. If they got hit and the lens broke, the fragments could pierce them in the eye after all. Is Treinta an idiot who doesn't think? Or does he have the confidence that he won't be hit in the face?

Uno watched the fight until the end to judge the newcomer's ability. The two men raised up their fists, facing each other. The battle began at the referee's signal.

Treinta moved the second the match started. He was swift. He remained low as he snuck under Doce and punched him in the face from below. Doce's large body staggered when Treinta's fist struck his nose.

His comrades surrounding the ring as spectators roared in encouragement. "¡Vamos!" "¡Buen hecho!" There was also foulmouthed jeering. "¡Concha tu madre!"

Although Doce had the most bets to win this fight he was entirely on the defensive. Treinta was relentless in his attacks even as his opponent was fainting in agony. He punched him in the temple, throat, and solar plexus before kicking him in the stomach and s.h.i.+n. His movements were precise and quick-witted, as though he knew a person's weak points. Was this man part of a special military force in the past?

Treinta was strong. He had power to his slim figure. His finis.h.i.+ng punch to the man's side was fierce. Doce spat up blood and collapsed onto the ground. He fell face first, fists still clenched tight. His body shook in small tremors as he tried to stand up, bearing the pain. Sweat covered his forehead.

"Give up," Treinta stated quietly in a low voice. "You probably can't move anymore from the pain."

It was exactly as he said. Doce could not move. He was unable to fight back the pain and ran out of strength.

"The victor is Treinta!" The referee shouted.

There was an uproar in the next moment. The members of Los Eses gave loud applause in celebration of the Dark Horse's arrival. The loser, Doce, was unable to stand up still. A few bones in his body had to be broken.

"Hey, take Doce to the hospital."

Uno ordered the referee before pointing to Treinta. "And you over there."

He could use a strong person like him. Uno decided he would have him join. "You'll be going to f.u.kuoka with us."

A few days later, Uno, Ocho and Treinta flew from Mexico to Australia. They then took a s.h.i.+p to smuggle their large quant.i.ties of drugs to f.u.kuoka, camouflaged as an Australian produced beef freighter.

"Ahh, we're finally here."

It was a long trip.

Once they arrived in f.u.kuoka City, Ocho got up when they landed to stretch and remarked. "I still feel like I'm on the ocean."

Uno also got off the s.h.i.+p. He then looked around the area. He did not see Treinta anywhere. "……Hey, where's Treinta?"

"He's puking his guts out over there." Ocho pointed with his thumb over to the s.h.i.+p.

Uno saw the man's trademark Panama hat beside the freighter. Treinter was keeling over. He had gotten seasick and was puking over into the ocean.

"¡Oye, Treinta!" Uno called out to him in a large voice. "Si, estoy bien." Even as Treinta replied back that he was okay, his face was completely pale. Even though this man was strong, he was useless on sea.

"Hey, Uno. Why did you bring him along? He's not much use if he can't speak j.a.panese." Ocho said, displeased. "There had to have been other guys, right? Like Quatro."

"Quatro was busy with business negotiations."

"Business negotiations?"

"He went to Colombia to purchase a narco-submarine."

"Seriously? He could just do that later."

Uno shrugged. "Don't say that. If he could get us that submarine, we could smuggle several tons of product in just one trip. There'd be less risks of us getting caught by the police, and Treinta wouldn't have to puke his guts out as much. It works in our favor."

"I think he's going to be sick on a submarine too."

They still had to use the fis.h.i.+ng boat they bought earlier to get to the warehouse they would be moving their smuggled goods to near the Hakata pier. Then they would have to wait for someone looking to distribute their drugs. They did not have the time to take extended breaks.

Once Treinta recovered from his sesickness, Uno barked, "vamos," and the three took off.

Bottom of the First Inning

Bayside Place Hakata was a shopping complex facing Hakata Bay. The s.p.a.cious plot of land naturally had shops and restaurants as well as a cylinder aquarium tank and a pa.s.senger terminal; the place was crowded with families and foreign visitors on the weekends. Right next to the building there was a park, a futsal stadium, onsen, and stone saunas.

Today was a clear, sunny day. The palm trees growing alongside the road were swaying in the ocean breeze, making their leaves rustle. The scenery reminded Martinez of the southern countries. He felt nostalgia, recalling his times he spent in his motherland the Dominican Republic and the cities he went to along the coast of Mexico during his youth.

The moment he had stepped foot in the place and saw the red conning tower directly next to the Bayside Place – the Hakata Port Tower – in his peripheral view, he sensed the faint smell of salt. There were pa.s.sengers getting on a liner to a remote island at the port right now.

Martinez walked further into the building. He pa.s.sed by the fish tank in the center of the room, which had various colored fish, stingrays, and sea turtles swimming around elegentantly in it, and entered a cafe. After he ordered plain waffles and iced coffee he looked around the interior of the shop.

He had plans to meet with Enokida in this cafe today, and the man had already gotten here before he did. Martinez spotted his platinum blond mushroom hair in a corner of the shop and walked over to him.

"Sorry for being late."

When Martinez called out to him, Enokida raised his head and looked over in his direction. He was in the middle of eating waffles topped with bananas and chocolate ice cream and had fresh whipped cream stuck to the corner of his thin lips.

"Hey," Enokida raised a hand in reply. "I went ahead and started eating without you."

"That's fine; I don't care."

Martinez pointed to the corner of his lip as he sat down across from the other. Enokida understood his gesture and wiped the cream off from his lips and licked it off his fingertips before asking. "What's been going on recently? Has there been any changes?"

He asked the usual questions.

"Nothing in particular." Martinez sighed. "I don't have anything of interest for you. I've been off lately."

"Still are, correct?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I'm really in a tight spot. If you got someone looking for a torturer, refer them to me."

Enokida was a hacker and informant, and Martinez was a torturer who made people give him information. As such, the two would occasionally meet up and have a meal to exchange information. But eighty percent of the time they ended up chatting idly.

"By the way, you were great in that last game. Nice batting you did there."

They began this day with idle talk as well. Enokida was referring to the Ramens' practice game the week before.

"We won because of you. And you saved Lin-kun as well."

"No, it was because you set it up for us to win." Martinez shook his head. He was not being modest; he was being sincere.

It was his. .h.i.t that had decided the match, however he was able to have a turn at bat and make the points because of the batters before him. It was not a singular person's victory; it was a team victory.

"Mar-san, you seem to be in good condition recently." Enokida grinned. "Are you doping?"

"h.e.l.l no."

Martinez rejected. That reminded him that a former baseball player was arrested for drug use the other day. He stuffed his mouth full of the waffles and replied back while chewing, "I hate drugs."

"Speaking of drugs."

Enokida's tone suddenly turned serious.

"What is it?"

"You're wanted internationally."

Martinez's eyes widened. He accidentally spat out the coffee he just drank.

He frowned and asked again. "Sorry, what?"

"You're wanted internationally." Enokida repeated. "You know of the ICPO, right?"

ICPO (International Criminal Police Organization) – also known as Interpol – was an international organization for investigators in every country around the world to exchange information and cooperate to find criminals that fled their country or missing people. Martinez knew that much about them at least.

"I was messing around and hacked into ICPO's database and saw your old name on there. You're wanted for your past crimes."

There were too many that would apply for his 'past crimes.'

"Mar-san, you sure were wild in your younger days."

Enokida smirked at him. "Isn't that always the case for every man?" Martinez replied with a smile.

"So what do you plan to do?"

"Nothing much."

Martinez answered, shrugging.

"Isn't Interpol just guys who exchange information? It's not like they have independent investigation teams nor do they have the power to investigate at the border. They don't have my new name or know that I live in this city, so there's nothing they can do."

As long as Martinez did not run into someone who knew his true ident.i.ty and he does not get reported to the ICPO, he should not get captured.

"That's how it was in the past, but I'm not so sure about how they are now," Enokida whispered.

Martinez stuffed the rest of his waffles into his mouth, the flavor instantly lost, and chugged down his coffee.

"Besides," Martinez added. "The police doesn't have time to bother with someone small like me."

"……I got nothing to do."

Lin muttered to himself, bored.

On the third floor of a multi-tenant building located east of Hakata Station a few minutes away from the Chikus.h.i.+ exit in the Hakata ward, Lin was watching television for the past couple of hours lying down on the sofa in the Banba Detective Office. He had no a.s.sa.s.sination jobs today and did not have anything in particular to do. He accepted to stay in the office while Banba was out, but he did not sense any clients coming by. And the dull hours seemed like it would continue to tick by still.

After Lin wasted time watching the variety program, a new corner began involving the introductory tips for cleaning for housewives.

Lin suddenly remembered as he looked away from the TV and around the room.

"……Guess I'll do some cleaning."

He muttered and stood up.

Even though Lin would periodically clean up the place, the room would always get dirty almost immediately after. It was all because of his roommate. Banba was terrible at cleaning up after himself and would leave things out everywhere.

There were cup ramen and convenience store bento boxes and utensils left out on the table, and trash littered the floor. Piles of dishes were stacked up in the kitchen sink. HIs baseball attire and gear were laying around the room, and piles of books which looked like they would fall over at any moment were on Banba's desk.

Lin took out a garbage bag and threw away anything they did not need in it. As he was going around collecting garbage, he tossed the dirty laundry into the laundry basket.

Just as he began to clean the area around Banba's desk, he noticed something.

"……What is this?"

Lin spotted a baseball on the desk that was cluttered with stacks of books. It was a hardball for practice, but it seemed fairly old.

"This ball is gross……"

The entire body was yellow and had black smudges on it left from a bat.

This baseball could not be used in practice matches. "Guess I'll throw it out." Lin aimed for the trash can in the corner of the room and threw it.

The ball made an arch in the air. However, it struck the edge of the trash can and fell between the furniture.

s.h.i.+t, Lin tutted. I guess I'll pick it up later. He sighed and went to take out the vacuum cleaner.

Ricardo waited for the dealer in a restaurant bar on the tenth floor of JR Hakata City. The restaurant had the American aesthetic, his home country. Cheerful country music played in the background, making him feel nostalgic. There were two men sitting in the booth next to his, conversing about baseball with a beer in hand. They seemed to be watching the live broadcast on the television set up in the restaurant.

After drinking his Heineken by himself for a few minutes, the person he was waiting on finally came. He was a j.a.panese man named Yakuin. He had a rare name, but he looked like any other ordinary man in his middle age.

"Sorry to make you wait. Murakami."

Yakuin called him by his name.

Ricardo was half Mexican and half j.a.panese and was going by the fake name Murakami at the moment. His official nationality was American, but he had been born and raised in j.a.pan. Ricardo prompted Yakuin to have a drink as he sat down across from him. He would be treating him today as well. He needed Yakuin to loosen his tongue by consuming alcohol. After Yakuin had drank his first beer and ordered his second, Ricardo went to discuss business. "Do you have it?"

"I have it all ready for you."

Yakuin tapped a black handbag he placed next to him. There was a see-through bag with stimulants inside. The product was from the Noma Group.

The Noma Group was a subgroup of a gang that made money off of drugs, and the organization particularly had the Nakasu neighborhood under their turf. They mainly produced and smuggled stimulants, synthesized drugs and synthetic cannabis and had them distributed throughout j.a.pan by using couriers.

Yakuin was a freelance dealer who had connections to various other organizations than just the Noma Group. He would purchase drugs from multiple people and sell them to his clients. Ricardo was one of his clients.

"I got 100 grams in here." Yakuin told him and reached for his gla.s.s. "How much do you want?"

"All of it."

Ricardo immediately answered. The other man was slightly shocked. "Are you serious?"

"I have the money for it."

Ricardo put an attache case containing 7,000,000 in it onto the table.

Yakuin glanced at the case and remarked. "……Business seems to be going well for you. Did you get new clients?"

"I got a wealthy woman hooked on this. She's been bothering me to get her more drugs as fast as possible." That was a huge lie.

"Is that so?" Yakuin grinned. "What a lady killer you are."

The deal was done. After they exchanged the bag with the drugs and the suitcase with the money inside it, they finally touched their food.

Yakuin spoke again as he stuffed his face with Asian beef. "Do you know about the dispute between the Noma Group and a Chinese dealing group?"

"I heard rumors of it." Ricardo replied. He did not know the details. His goal today was to get that information from him. "What kind of guys are they?"

Yakuin started to chatter more after his fifth drink. "They're just a rogue group consisted of Chinese people in f.u.kuoka. They seem to have connections with an organization in Hong Kong, meaning there's a possibility they have someone backing them."

China had harsh penalties for selling and purchasing drugs in its country. There were even cases people could get executed if they were caught having it. Because of that, there were people who wanted to make a market for it in other countries.

"Are they big?"

"No. They don't even have ten people. Anyway, this Chinese group has had its operations going on nearby. They were mainly distributing stimulants, but now they started giving out c.o.ke and heroin."

Ricardo c.o.c.ked his head. Another new organization had creeped up behind his back?

"Cocaine and heroin aren't even that popular in j.a.pan, right?"

"Yeah. So they've been selling it to foreigners living in f.u.kuoka. They've been handing them out in clubs in Nakasu where the foreigners go to. But that area is the Noma Group's turf. I heard someone from the Noma Group spotted them selling the drugs over there and have tortured the Chinese guy for it."

"Uh-huh."

There was no way they would stop selling the drugs just because one of their men got tortured. The dispute between the two groups will worsen, Ricardo thought.

"The Noma Group is worked up right now as well. It's been hectic over there, as they've been caught up with another issue."

"What had happened?"

"A few of their men had been killed."

"What? In a fight?"

"Maybe."

Ricardo shrugged. "How hard it is to be a yakuza."

"On top of that, one of their couriers got caught."

Ricardo knew about that already, but he purposefully made himself look shocked. "What? Are you serious?"

"Yeah, apparently they got a weasel."

A weasel – Ricardo's heart thudded when the other mentioned that term.

Ricardo reached for his food while calming himself. "That seems problematic."

"Yeah, no kidding." Yakuin nodded, looking over at him. "Say, is there anyone that comes to mind that you find suspicious?"

After pretending to ponder over it for a few moments, Ricardo shook his head. "……No, I have no idea."

"I see."

Yakuin nodded in disappointment.

"The Noma Group is desperately trying to find the traitor. The moment they do, they'll probably kill them."

"I was put into prison once." Ricardo gulped down the chilled Heineken and grimaced. "I feel like if I get caught again, I won't be out for a long time. If we don't catch the traitor soon, I can't do business feeling safe."

"Right?"

"When you get the next batch, let me know."

After he had left a tip for the drinks and took the bag, Ricardo quickly walked out of the restaurant.

Banba returned after Lin had spent four hours cleaning the place up to the point the office looked entirely new. The date had already changed by then.

Banba was in good spirits, probably due to drinking out somewhere. "I'm hooome~!" Lin made an exasperated face seeing his roommate come back in an overly good mood and replied, "welcome back. You were late. Where did you go?"

"I gone out drinkin' with s.h.i.+gematsu-san." Banba provided in answer as he began to undress in the room. Lin was annoyed when he saw him take off his top and toss it on the ground.

"d.a.m.n you……Stop tossing your clothes everywhere. I just cleaned up the place."

"Sorry~," Banba dodged the remark in an upbeat tone. Lin did not think he meant it at all.

"……Huh?"

Immediately afterwards, Banba glanced over to his desk and raised his voice.

"The ball ain't there."

He muttered and quickly looked around the room.

"Huh? What is it?"

"Lin-chan," Banba turned to face him and pointed at his desk. "Do you know what happened to the ball that was over there?"

"A ball? ……Ahh, that one?" Lin recalled tossing the practice ball that was on the desk into the trash can. "If you're talking about that disgusting ball, I threw it away."

Banba's eyes widened.

"Ha!? You threw it away!?"

Lin nodded, dumbfounded. "Y-yeah."

Banba's complexion instantly paled, and he rushed over to the trash can and looked inside it. When he saw it was empty, he hastily went to open the window and leaned outside it. He was checking the dump site. However, nothing was there. The garbage truck had already come by and collected the garbage.

"No way……"

Banba held his head, shocked. Lin c.o.c.ked his head. "What's wrong?"

What is up with him?