Hakata Tonkotsu Ramens Volume 8 Chapter 1

Balancing studies and club activities at a preparatory school was quite tough. His supplementary cla.s.ses began at 7:30 in the morning, but his club's morning practice sessions began at 6. If he did not leave the house by 5:30, he would not make it in time.
He could not help getting drowsy during lectures. He always ended up taking naps. His notes would trail off unfinished, and he would have to copy the notes from his friends every time.
He would have school cafeteria food for lunch, and once the afternoon cla.s.ses were finished his club activities he antic.i.p.ated for were next. The baseball club practice sessions lasted until 8 o'clock at night. And then he would have morning warm-ups at 6 again the following day. He did not have the time to prepare or review for lessons. His grades on the tests each term kept going down, and his rank in his grade was the lowest of the low. Even though a half-year had pa.s.sed since he had entered high school, he still was not accustomed to the hectic highschool life.
Nonetheless, the time he spent during his club was not trifle. He would run after the ball everyday and practice until his clothes turned dirty black. The moments where he got to play baseball were the most enjoyable time for him.
The school he attended was not a baseball veteran one, so it was difficult for his team to go to Kos.h.i.+en. Even so, if he kept trying and not get spoiled by the corporate sponsors and baseball universities, he may be able to catch the eye of a scout. Even now, he was still spurred on by the desire to become a professional baseball player someday. He could not deny that he was fully immersed in baseball and had neglected all other responsibilities in doing so. Nonetheless, his mind was always on baseball on a daily basis.
He was able to have this life thanks to his father. Even though he only had a single parent, he was grateful that his father supported him to pursue his dreams and let him play the one sport he loved. His father would always rearrange his schedule whenever he had a game, regardless of how busy he may be, to come and support him. He would watch his performance fondly as he cheered for him. His father was the person who understood him the most and was also his biggest fan.
He decided he would repay the favor when he began a professional player someday.

The practice session for the day had been tough. Once the session was over, he walked home with his fellow teammates. They all had a buzz-cut like he did and had a their baseball gear bag slung over their shoulders. He always enjoyed the time he spent chatting with his friends as they walked to and from school.
Zenji Banba split up from his teammates partway and headed to his house. He lived in an old, two-story apartment building that was just a ten-minute walk from the nearest train station. He lived with his father in a 2LDK room.
The door was unlocked. He opened the door and took off his shoes in the doorway.
“I'm home.”
He announced, but his father did not reply.
“...Dad?
Banba tilted his head, finding the lack of response odd. He walked down the hallway and opened the door leading into the living room.
The TV was on. A baseball game was playing. His father was always watching a baseball match at this hour. The local baseball team players in red jerseys were running across the screen, and Banba could hear the announcer's voice.
“D”
The moment Banba stepped into the room, his breath caught in his throat. He lost his words when he saw the sight before him.
A man was there. A man he had never seen before was standing in the center of the living room. And the man had both his hands wrapped around his father's throat.
His father looked over to him with hollow eyes. Upon realizing his son's return, he mouthed: ‘Zenji, run.'
His father's face was covered in blood. Bruises were littered all across his face and were swelling up as though he had been struck multiple times.
The moment Banba saw the state his father was in, burning rage seethed within him. For a moment, his whole body grew hot. Yet at the same time, a freezing chill overtook him. An unknown fear arose within him, causing his limbs to tremble.
What is this?
His mind was addled. He could not think properly. He could not process the situation. What is this? What is going on?
But at the same time, he knew he had to do something. His father was being attacked. Banba did not know who the man was, but he had to save his father right now.
Before he realized what he was doing, Banba had grabbed the bag that had his baseball gear in it. He took out a metal bat and brandished it.
I have to do it. Banba lunged towards the man and swung the bat.
The man let go of his father. He turned around, dodging the attack, and grabbed Banba's hand that held the bat to twist his arm behind his back, causing Banba to unintentionally lose his grip on the weapon.
“...I take it you're his son?” The man smirked. It was a detestable smile, as though it was mocking the weak.
The man easily took the bat from Banba and used it to strike him. The metal pole sunk into his side, causing him to choke. Banba crouched over, unable to stand from the sharp pain.
“Stop!” He heard his father's shout.
But the man did not stop. Over and over, he relentlessly smashed the bat against him.
Banba curled up into a ball to defend himself from the onslaught of attacks, screaming all the while, “stop! It hurts!” And yet the violence did not cease, and he kept being struck by pain anew. Unknown to him, he had been crying.
“Stop! He has nothing to do with this!”
His father shouted from behind the man.
The man ignored him and swung down the bat once more. In that instant, Banba felt a sharp pain spike in his head as though it had split open.
His vision spun, and he began to feel lightheaded.
His strength evaporated from his body, and awareness left him.

Banba had been out for a period of time. He had no idea how long for. But when he regained consciousness, the h.e.l.l was still going on.
Banba was still in his home, lying on the ground. As soon as he awoke, he grimaced and let out a painful whimper. His whole body throbbed. It hurt just to move even an inch.
A lukewarm liquid was dripping down his head - blood.
Where's dad? Where's that man? Banba looked around his surroundings in a daze.
The man was still there. He held a black knife in his hand. At his feet was his father. A red splotch was covered over his stomach.
No. He can't be dead.
Banba was in disbelief. With bloodshot eyes, he attempted to scream his father's name. But he could not speak. He was only able to make a hoa.r.s.e breath, which could not reach his father.
The man turned around to face him, however. He glared down at Banba as though he was looking at a worm and laughed. “You're still alive?”
The man walked over to him. The blood-stained knife was still in his grip. Banba knew he was going to kill him. He could clearly tell he had intended to. The man gazed down at him with cold eyes. Those eyes gave the impression that he did not value a human's life.
His body began to shake. He knew he had to get away. But he could not. He was unable to move as he wanted from the fear and pain.
The tears came.
He could not understand. His mind rejected the situation happening before him. The only word he could think of was ‘why.' Why was this happening? He had just been living an ordinary life. He should not be experiencing this act of violence; he was innocent.
So why? Why did this man have to take his life away from him? Banba could not let him destroy his dreams.
He resented how he would be killed without any form of resistance, unable to put up a fight. The idea hurt so much he could not stop crying.
“I'll put you out of your misery soon.”
The man reached out towards him. He grabbed Banba by his hair and lifted him up. The knife pressed against his neck. Banba shook at its cool tip.
The man was going to slit his throat. Despair and powerlessness clouded his thoughts.
Banba gave up, believing it was the end, when it happened.
Abruptly, the man gave a groan.
An unexpected development had occurred. The man disappeared from Banba's field of vision. Someone had grabbed the man's head and smashed it against the wall. The man pa.s.sed out from the impact and collapsed onto the ground.
Who-?
Banba's eyes widened in shock.
“I made it on time.”
He heard a new voice.
A man, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, wore an extraordinary outfit. He was dressed in black, casual clothes and had a j.a.panese sword hanging from his waist. The man was anachronistic, as though he was a samurai from some historical play. And for some reason, he hid his face behind a red Niwaka mask.
“...No.” The man wearing the Niwaka mask muttered after glancing at Banba's father. “I was too late.”
Banba looked up at him dumbfounded. He had no idea what had just transpired. He did not know who this man was or why he was dressed the way he was. The one thing he did understand was that he had saved his life.
Is he a friend?
Banba gazed at the Niwaka mask, forgetting the pain wrecking his body.
“Hey, are you alright?”
The man addressed him.
Banba returned to himself and nodded wordlessly. He managed to rise up from his position on the floor, grinding his teeth in pain in the process.
The Niwaka masked man unsheathed his j.a.panese sword. He went to finish the unconscious man off but stopped partway. “I can't kill someone in front of a child.”
He put the blade back into its scabbard and tossed the household phone to Banba.
“Call for an ambulance.”
Banba nodded at the order. He tried to call for the ambulance as requested. But his hands shook too much to press the b.u.t.tons.
The man watched, and unable to let him be he took the device from Banba. “Alright, give it here. I'll call it in.”
In that moment-
“...Zen, ji.”
Banba heard a tiny voice calling his name - it was his father.
He was glad to hear that he was alive. Tears welled up in his eyes. Banba crawled over to his father.
“D-dad…”
His voice cracked.
“Ze, -nji.”
His father replied weakly when his son called for him. He spat up blood, and his red stained lips moved slightly.
“...Sorry I couldn't protect ya.”
He wrung out.
Banba shook his head internally. I also was unable to protect anyone. I couldn't save my own father because I was weak.
His father was crying. Whenever he blinked, a few tears cascaded down his face. His eyes slowly closed.
“Dad! Dad-”
Banba continuously called his name, desperate to have his eyes open again, to hear his voice once more.
“Hey, don't move him.”
The Niwaka masked man said sternly when Banba shook his father's shoulders.
“Put pressure on the wound with this until the ambulance gets here.” The man handed Banba a piece of cloth. He then glanced over to the man who stabbed his father and stated. “He won't wake up for some time. The police will be here soon, so hand him over to them.”
The Niwaka masked man turned away immediately after.
“W-wait!”
Banba yelled, ignoring the pain in his side. He had a lot of questions for him.
The man stilled and turned around. “What?”
“Who are-”
Just who are you?
However, the man shook his head before Banba could finish his question.
“It'd be better not to know.” He expressed firmly. “Listen. Forget everything that happened today. ...Though I guess that'd be impossible.”
The man turned on his heel once more.
“Don't step over into this side.”
He left with those final words.
This side? What did he mean?
Banba frowned as he watched the man leave. He heard the sirens of the ambulance immediately after that.
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Translation: Kaede726
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Editor: Voissane
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