Notice: This short story takes place after the events of the 8th volume. Spoilers ahead.

‘Life is a series of choices,' someone had once said.
I feel like those are the last words of some famous guy, but regardless I do find it rings true.
Life moves forward every time you make a decision on something. Where you could live, what kind of job you should go for, what you should eat everyday, where you should go - these are decisions we all make everyday. Should you have ramen for dinner? Should you go mild or regular on the Fukuya mentaiko? Those are another couple of examples for choices you have to make.
I found myself picking up baseball because of the choice I made. That said, someone pressured me to make the choice, and while I don't know if it was the right one, nevertheless it has been a year since I joined the Hakata Tonkotsu Ramens grass-lot baseball team. It was back in the fall of last year. And I - Xianming Lin - am the shortstop and the eighth in the batting order, and it has continued to be this way.

That's when I had a sudden thought. The series of choices could apply to the baseball sport too. Should you throw a straight or a slider? Should you swing the bat, or should you not swing and let the ball fly by? Everyday is full of choices. Though I wouldn't say, ‘baseball = life.'

Anyway, let's put that aside; right now I'm in the middle of playing a practice match with our grass-lot team.

We're at the baseball field in Fukuoka City. Our opponent is a team called the Dazaifu Sliders based in Dazaifu City. My teammate Saitou - the pitcher for our team - is standing on the mound. The Tonkotsu Nine is on defense. As the shortstop, I am positioned between second and third base.

It's the bottom of the ninth inning with one out. The score is three-to-three with runners on first and third base. Saitou had made the choice to shake his head to the catcher's sign and throw a slider instead, dealing us a severe blow and putting us in between a rock and a hard place.

The next batter stepped into the right side of the batter's box. It was a large man who seemed capable of sending the ball flying.

“Hey! Saitou!”

I shouted at his hunched back.

“Stop being a pussy! Throw it with all you got!”

After Saitou nodded in acknowledgement, he looked over to the catcher's mitt and made the first pitch. His pitch was another slider. There was a sound of impact, and the ball was coming towards the outfield in my direction. I heard my teammates shouting, “shortstop! Shortstop!”

It had not been too powerful of a hit, but the ball landed in a bad spot. It went towards the hole, just barely within my area of defense. I slid down to the ground and managed to catch the ball in my glove.

I had to quickly get up and get the runner out - but then I wavered for a moment.

Where should I throw it? To home plate or second base?

I hesitated for one, single moment. If I threw the ball towards second base, I could earn us two outs.

I got up and immediately threw it to second. However, our second baseman standing on the base caught the ball only after the runner had touched home plate.

“Safe!” The umpire spread out his arms wide.

My pitch didn't make it in time.

It was safe for first and second base too. And obviously the runner on third had made it home on time. On top of not getting anyone out, the other team had earned one point.

The score was now three to four.

In short, it was the Ramens' crushing defeat.

No one blamed me for the choice I made. The pitcher, Saitou, hunched in on himself on the mound and apologized, “it was my fault that I got us in that situation.” I expected our team captain to give me an earful for my error, but he surprisingly didn't. All he said was, “you got another chance next game.” Our coach Genzou Gouda had also pitched in with, “it was outta your control. You held it out and played your best.”

It was, ‘outta my control?' Was it though?

I was unable to see how it wasn't. I knew my play just now wasn't the best I could've done.

If I had chosen to throw directly to home instead of trying to fulfill my wish in getting two outs, the end of the match could've been different. If I threw the ball on time, we could've gotten the team out. Then the game would've prolonged, giving us a chance to land some points on offense. And if all went well, the Ramens could've won.

Everything was because of my error in judgement. I hesitated for a moment and made the wrong choice, so we were met with defeat.

My depressing mood didn't lighten up afterwards either. I may be the only one blaming my play last game. But even if it had been just a practice match, a mistake is a mistake. I'm angry at myself for it and even regret my actions. That said, my feelings won't change the outcome.

I couldn't stop myself from thinking about it. Genzou had often told me that the most important factor in baseball was the ‘switchover.' So I plan on doing that. I'm going to completely clear this past match from my brain and go about my day as I normally would. A couple days after the Ramens massive defeat, I decided to focus on jobs for my main occupation. I figured killing two or three bad guys could possibly lighten my mood.

I was called up for business matters and headed out towards Nakasu to make the appointment. I went to a bar located among the rivaling buildings in downtown. The characters ‘Babylon' were carved onto the bar's door.

The owner of the bar Babylon was a former beauty artist known as Jiro. He's the Ramens' left-fielder, and one of my teammates.

“Oh? Lin-chan. Come on in,” the tall male opened the door to let me inside.

“I'm sorry for coming here on such short notice.”

“Oh, I don't mind.”

Even though Jiro is a man, he always speaks femininely. I don't know why. Then again, I'm also a man, and yet I always dress like a woman.

Jiro was wiping down the glasses behind the counter. He must be in the middle of setting up for business as there were no customers inside. There was only the elementary school brat who didn't belong here working on her homework in one of the booths. 

Her name is Misaki. She is Jiro's daughter. Their family relationship is rather complicated though, as she is not blood related to Jiro.

I took a seat at the other side of the counter, facing Jiro, “I'm looking for work. I've been off for quite some time.” I then asked, “so? Who do I need to kill?”

The bar owner was just this man's outward appearance. In truth, he was an avenger.

I figured as I was a hitman he would hire me for a job relating to it, but that was apparently not the case.

“That's not it this time,” Jiro smiled wryly. “I have a job for you as a detective - not a hitman.”

A detective was my outward appearance. Whenever I don't have targets to kill, I help out with work at a detective office.

“That's fine with me, but what do you want me to do?”

“Find someone.”

Searching for people, huh. That aligned with detective work alright. I marveled how rare it was for me to get an honest job for once, only to be proven wrong immediately after the fact.

“I want you to find and capture a murderer.”

“A murderer?” I frowned. “Isn't that something the police are responsible for?”

This didn't seem suited for me to take part in.

“There's a reason the police can't handle the matter.” Jiro began to explain the whole story and details. “There is someone running an illegal casino here in Nakasu, and they asked for this-”

According to Jiro, the client was a man named Fukumoto. He was the advisor to the leader of the Izuka Group - a local gang in Fukuoka City - and he was also the owner of an underground casino. He was a stereotypical yakuza member through-and-through.

The incident happened before dawn earlier today. The manager had been doing the math on sales for the day by himself after the casino closed when someone had attacked him. The victim had been struck in the chest with an ice pick, which had come from the casino itself.

“The proceeds had been taken.”

“Then this was the work of a robber?”

There was a good chance they were going for the money. This may have been planned ahead of time, considering they had waited after the casino's business hours when less security would be on duty.

“So wouldn't there have been a snitch in the casino? One of the employees must have leaked information to the robber and get a share out of it, right?”

If they interrogate any person in connection with the casino and found the traitor, they could easily find out who the culprit was.

However -

“About that,” Jiro frowned. “We don't even have to worry about who leaked the information. One of the employees was the culprit.”

“Seriously?” I was stunned. “They already know who did it?”

“Yes. There had been a witness.”

The client said it happened around two in the morning after the casino had closed last night. All the employees had gone home, leaving only the manager inside.

There was maintenance being done on the security cameras that day in two areas: the front of the casino and the back exit. As such, there was no footage for when the crime took place. However, a man working at a sex club nearby claimed to have seen someone rush out of the casino's entrance around three am. They were in a panic as they fled the scene, and they looked like one of the employees.

“So he killed the manager?”

“From the Izuka Group's perspective, it seems to be the case. The employee who fled from there was this man,” Jiro said as he placed a photo onto the counter. “His name is Ikuto Kojima.”

I inspected the photo closely. The man looked to be in his mid twenties. The photo shown him standing in front of the casino, his left hand deep in his jeans pockets while his right hand held a smartphone. This photo seemed to have been taken before his shift started earlier that day, but they probably had to look through older footage from the security cameras to find the man's identity.

“According to the owner of the casino, Kojima would pilfer every now and then. They noticed their math wasn't adding up on days Kojima had been working. And now this happened too.”

“So the manager figured out he was embezzling money, so he took an ice pick from there and killed him?”

“And then he took the casino's money to top it off.”

What a scumbag, I scowled.

“The Izuka Group has a reputation to keep, so they won't be satisfied until they get their money back. However, Kojima has been missing since that night…They've been having trouble finding him,” Jiro sighed.

The man must have run knowing his life was in danger. It was the yakuza after him. If they caught him, he would be killed.

“And since this took place at an underground casino, they couldn't just report it to the officials.”

Indeed. I nodded, “guys like us would be arrested first before the actual culprit.”

“I was asked to avenge the manager as well as find the culprit behind the murder. However…” Jiro whispered into my ear softly, “I don't want Misaki to get caught up in the mob's affairs.”

I see. So that was why he chose me to fill in for him.

“I get it. So I can just find this Kojima guy and hand him over to the client, right?”

“Exactly that.”

“Sounds like a piece of cake.”

I accepted Jiro's task and left the bar.

It was easy enough to find one person's whereabouts.

Well, it'd be hard for me to do, but for him this was a cinch to do. He should be able to find him almost immediately - as long as you have the money to pay him, that is.

I headed over to my next destination: a cafe located in the Gates Building in Nakasu. A man with mushroom-like hair was sitting in the corner of the cafe. His hair was blond, almost nearing white, and he wore a vivid yellow parka and bright red skinny jeans, naturally drawing attention to himself.

His head tilted upwards when I drew close. The typing of keys stilled as he gazed up at me with a grin, “hey there, mister good-for-nothing.”

This is Enokida. Like Jiro, he's one of my teammates on the Ramens. His position is center field. He's a fast runner and covers a wide area when on defense. He is the first batter in the running up. He's also the fixed lead-off man for our team.

With Enokida's comment, I was reminded of my blunder in the last match. This man has the tendency to readily rub salt into others' wounds. He's got a knack for getting under people's skin. He has a good background, growing up as a spoiled rich kid, yet his personality is repulsive.

I clicked my tongue, “...shut up.”

“Kidding. I kid,” the mushroom-head smiled, pleased. “Baseball is a nine-person sport. It's pointless to find one person to shift the blame to. The pitcher had a poor play, and others weren't successful in earning us points either. No one could possibly say one single player was directly responsible for the loss in points, yet people sure like to try and single out one person. We're all foolish creatures.”

“...Where's this suddenly coming from?”

“In the Hawks' game yesterday, an outfielder missed the ball, and the team had a crushing defeat.” Enokida shrugged. “People were making slandering comments in masse on the player's social media account. ‘Go to the second string of players,' ‘quit the professional field,' and the like. There were a bunch of messages telling him to just up and die. Isn't that horrible?”

It was absolutely horrific. It was pathetic how there were people out there who would go out of their way to do that. 

“People like that sure have a lot of free time.”

“I used hacking to figure out the commenters' information and was just about to send them all a virus for slandering the player.”

“...You're not any better.”

He is a skilled hacker who always loves to use his laptop to pull pranks on people for his own entertainment. He's obscene but also one of a kind in his line of work. He is a reliable informant; there is nothing he couldn't figure out about this man.

“Can you put aside the cyber bullying for now and help me with this little job?” I asked as I took a seat across from Enokida. “I need you to find a certain man's whereabouts.”

“Sounds good to me. Who is it?”

“Him.” I took out the man's photo Jiro gave me and handed it to Enokida. “His name is Ikuto Kojima. He's an employee for an underground casino run by the Izuka Group.”

“An underground casino, huh?” Enokida gazed at the photo with a wide grin. “Did he steal their profits? Or did he commit fraud and incur a customer's fury?”

“He murdered the manager and stole the casino's money.”

“And he's currently on the run?”

“Yep.”

“What a terrible person. Don't give him a swift death.”

I shook my head, “I'm not the one to end his life. The Izuka Group is going to. I'm merely going to hand him over to them.”

“You weren't tasked to kill him?”

“I'm just helping out this time. Jiro asked me to.”

“Ohh, I see.”

A moment later, Enokida's moving fingers abruptly stilled.

“...Oh,” Enokida muttered, staring at his screen. There seems to have been a problem.

“What's wrong?”

“I traced the man's location from his cell phone's GPS...but it's pointing to the Izuka Group's illegal casino.”

“Why would Kojima's cell phone be there?” I frowned, confused. “Does this mean he went back to the scene of the crime for something?”

“It hasn't been moving at all since last night, so maybe he just forgot his cell phone in the casino?”

“That or he dropped it on accident when he fled the scene…”

Either way, this meant he couldn't locate Kojima via his cell phone's GPS.

“Are there other methods you could try?”

Even if tracing his cellular device wasn't possible, it doesn't mean that was the only viable option. “Of course,” Enokida replied proudly. “Let's take a look into his card's transaction history.”

His thin and long fingers set into motion once again, beginning to type away on the keyboard. Enokida's expression was of pure delight. The face he made when hacking had the same ecstatic energy to the one he would make when he practiced safety bunts in the batter's box.

“Looks like Kojima got a rental car at a place in front of Hakata Station this morning,” Enokida said as he looked into the credit card company's client information. “It's a black, automatic vehicle.”

“Alright, a car...then this makes sense as to why the Izuka Group haven't been able to find him.”

Kojima has been regularly on the move in order to throw off his pursuers.

“This rental company has GPS installed in all their vehicles to prevent auto theft. If I sneak into the company's system and look for the car's current location-”

A few minutes of typing passed-

“I got it. The car Kojima rented is currently here.”

Enokida turned his laptop towards me and pointed at the screen. There was a red dot blinking on the map.

The place was a multi-story parking garage in Keiko.

As good as always. He's fast and efficient with his work. “Thanks. You were a huge help.”

I stood up from my seat after handing the informant a few ten thousand yen bills.

The mushroom informant was always right. When I went to the site he pointed out, there was a black, automatic car parked in a corner of the parking garage just as he had said. The information on the number plate was accurate too.

I looked inside the vehicle and saw a man. He was slumped over the seat belt on the driver's side, resting with a New York Yankee's hat on. His face was the same as the man's in the photo. He was definitely Kojima.

I knocked on the window of the car. Kojima was passed out, and he only awoke on the twelfth knock. He looked at me through the window and gave me a suspicious look, weary of who I was.

Kojima reluctantly lowered the window after my insistent knocking.

“...What do you want?” He asked, his voice still containing hints of drowsiness.

I grabbed Kojima by his hair with my right hand and pulled him towards me, bashing his head against the window frame. Naturally I held back, but the man still made a loud yelp.

“Ow!” Kojima's eyes shot wide open after the sudden attack. “Wh-...what the hell man!”

I pulled Kojima out of the driver's seat after unlocking the car door from the inside. I then delivered a punch into his solar plexus. Once Kojima fell to the ground, trying to catch his breath, I took out my pistol knife and placed it against his head, “don't move.” I planned to hit his legs if he attempts to run. Anything will do as long as I don't kill him.

“You're Ikuto Kojima, right?”

I asked just in case, but Kojima did not deny it. He glared back at me, cautious. “Wh-who are you!?”

“A hit-” I cut off before I said ‘man,' and corrected myself. “A detective.”

“...What? A detective?”

“Yep. I was tasked to find you.”

“Who would-?”

“Your employer. You should have been able to guess it.” I kindly explained everything to this poor, pitiful man. “I heard you murdered the casino manager and stole the money the casino made that day. Your superior and the guys in the Izuka Group are dying to see you. And they hired me to settle things. Well, you reaped what you sowed.”

“W-wait a sec!”

Kojima shouted, raising his palms open towards me.

“Please, hear me out!”

“I have nothing to discuss with you. If you want to give an apology, tell it to your boss in person.”

“I didn't do it!”

“......What?”

What is this guy trying to get at?

“What's that?”

I shrugged, exasperated.

“It wasn't me. I didn't kill him.” Kojima's expression was serious. “I just went back to the casino when I noticed I had forgot my cell phone in the changing room. When I got there, I found the manager dead on the floor…”

Kojima began to insist that he did not kill the manager. That the man was already dead when he found him.

“Then why did you run?” I heaved a sigh.

“...I got scared. I thought everyone would suspect I did it.”

Running would make you more suspicious. It wasn't very convincing for someone to claim they're innocent after getting a rental car and driving around sporadically to avoid detection.

“Look, I admit to taking a couple bills out of wallets from some of our drunk customers before...But I've never once touched the casino's money!”

Regardless, this person wasn't exactly a good person anyway.

“I beg you. Please believe me!” Kojima bowed to me.

Even if he had killed him, there wasn't a single person who would admit to the crime. There were nothing but vile people and liars in this industry. If you let yourself believe anyone without caution, you'll regret it.

“You're telling me I should take the word of a man I only knew for five minutes?” I scoffed, refusing to put down my knife, “that's out of the question.”

“Please, let me go.”

“You sure don't know when to give up. Acknowledge your wrongdoings,” I refuted the man's plea. “Look, it's already too late anyway. I already called my client and told him that you were here in this parking spot. They should be here soon.”

“No!” Kojima muttered in dismay, teary-eyed.

Shortly after that, a black colored car rolled into the parking area and stopped right next to us. A middle-aged man came out from inside. The man was most likely the client, Fukumoto. There were also a few hoodlums reminiscent of yakuza underlings who followed after.

“You're Fukumoto I take it? I found him as per your request,” I spoke to the man.

“You did well.” Fukumoto acknowledged before ordering his men, “take him.” The thugs grabbed Kojima's arms and tried to take him away. Kojima twisted in their grip, trying to resist, but his efforts were left in vain.

Fukuomoto took a stack of bills out of his pocket. He thumbed through them with his left hand and began counting the ten thousand yen bills.

“Here's your payment,” he handed over ten bills to me.

It may be dirty money as the Izuka Group earned their profits from an underground casino ring, but I decided to take it in earnest. I casually stuffed the ten thousand yen bills in my pocket, “thanks.”

With this, my job was finished.

“Please believe me, sir!” Kojima was being put into the trunk of the car. His shrill voice echoed through the parking lot. “I didn't do it!”

Where he would be headed next was hell. He would be tortured and then ruthlessly killed.

However, that had nothing to do with me. I turned on my heel and walked out of the parking lot.

At some point it had turned to dusk. I suddenly realized as I walked down Shouwa Street towards Hakata...I was hungry.

Now thinking about it, I hadn't eaten anything since noon. Guess I should have an early dinner. After pondering over what to have, I decided to go get tonkotsu ramen and headed back to Nakasu.

There was a shop someone I know ran in the food stall area near Naga River. It was an old food stall with red curtains. The shop's name was Gen-chan. The owner Genzou Gouda was an old timer around seventy, and he was also the coach for the Ramens.

“Hey, Lin. Welcome,” Genzo smiled when he noticed my arrival.

There were no other customers there. I asked for one bowl of ramen as I took a seat in the center.

“You're fine with just ramen? How about work?” Genzou asked.

This food stall served as a teller window. The geezer here was actually a mediator for hitmen. Freelance hitmen often come here looking for work. I was also one of them. But my purpose wasn't work related this time.

“Don't need any,” I shook my head. “I just came to have a meal today.”

“That so? Then take your time and enjoy.”

Just as I took the chopsticks for the ramen another customer showed up, “Gen-san. What's up?”

It was a young man in a suit with a gaudy hairstyle. He looked like he just got off of work. He took a seat beside me.

He made a double-take when he saw my face and pouted disappointingly, “tch, damn. Just Lin, huh.”

I knew him. His name was Yamato. And just as one would expect, he worked at a host club in Nakasu.

“I thought I saw a total babe sitting there who I could chat up with,” Yamato sulked. “You're so misleading.”

I see. So that's why he sat next to me so boldly. He's a hardcore ladies' man.

“You should have known it was me even from behind.” His complaints bothered me. I shrugged, “you're always at practice with me after all.”

“As if I could tell. I can't see your back from my position.”

Yamato was also a regular player for the Ramens. He was our second batter who was great at playing small ball and protected the right field. He was right; from his position in the right field, he would not be able to see my back.

“That reminds me, Lin,” Genzo changed the topic. “You ain't with him today?”

By ‘him' he must be referring to my roommate.

“Does it matter?” I responded with a sigh, “I can go out to eat by myself, you know.”

Besides, he hasn't fully recovered from his injuries. I ordered him to stay at home and behave himself. I couldn't let him wander around with me.

“What happened?” Genzo cocked his head. “You seem upset.”

“Did you screw up on the job or something?” Yamato butt in.

“Hell no. It was a piece of cake,” I snorted. “I got 100,000 yen for catching one guy. The client was quite generous.”

“...Hey, Lin,” Yamato put down his chopsticks and looked over to me. “Was this the guy you were referring to?”

Yamato held up a piece of paper. It was a photo of Kojima's face - the very photo Jiro had given me.

The photo was supposed to be in my pocket, but it was now somehow in Yamato's hands. My eyes widened in shock, “when did you-...?”

Right. He's a pickpocket. He works as a host as a side job; he normally makes a living by pick-pocketing people's wallets. And he's not too shabby at it either. He's got to be pretty skilled to be able to take a photo from my pocket without my knowing.

“...Your kleptomaniac behavior is still as strong as ever.”

“It's the curse of the job,” Yamato smirked.

He then closely examined the photo and whispered, “ah, this is Kojima.”

“How do you know him?”

I was surprised. I didn't expect to hear him ever say Kojima's name.

Genzo was also curious. “Huh. Is he an acquaintance of yours?”

“I wouldn't say that. He was formerly in the same trade as I was. He used to pickpocket in this area too a while back. I guess you could say he was like my rival.”

Who knew my target was someone Yamato had known. The world sure was small.

“I heard he quit a few years ago and started working for a Baccarat gambling place the Izuka Group ran. He was making a bit of extra cash by pick-pocketing the customers' wallets and taking ten thousand yen from them before returning their wallets conspicuously.”

What he heard was true. Kojima admitted he took money from the casino's customers to me himself.

“So I take it he wasn't satisfied with just doing that then?”

Yamato cocked his head when he heard my comment, “What? What are you talking about?”

“He apparently stole from the casino too.”

“What?” Yamato was taken aback. “That Kojima swiped the Izuka Group's money?”

“That's not all. The casino manager found out what he was doing, and he killed him,” I explained all the details of the case.

However-

“Yeah, no. He wouldn't do that,” Yamato laughed. “Kojima quit pick-pocketing normal bystanders because he didn't want to be sent to prison. If he took from casino customers, he wouldn't have to be worried about being reported.”

Yamato continued as he slurped his noodles, “among pickpockets, he's nothing big. He's not the type of guy to have the guts to steal the yakuza's money.”

Frowning, I looked at Yamato. “...Are you telling the truth?”

“What would be the point in me lying?”

I suppose that's true.

After finishing my meal, I took the subway at Nakasu-Kawabata Station and got off at JR Hakata Station, taking the Chikushi Exit and walking the rest of the way home from there. The Banba Detective Office was located on the third floor of an old tenant building, located about ten minutes away from the station. That was where I was living right now.

I walked up the stairs to the third floor and opened the door to the office and household.

“Ah, Lin-chan! Welcome back!”

I heard my roommate call to me.

His name is Zenji Banba. He runs this office for outward appearances, but he secretly does the same work as I do - in other words, a fellow hitman.

Banba was sitting on the sofa, watching television. Just as I answered back with, “I'm home,” my words were drowned out by an uproar from the live broadcasters.

‘Both the forerunners have been making nice pitches, leaving the score tied zero to zero. There is one runner out in the field, and no outs yet. The team won't make it easy for him to make it home-'

A baseball broadcast was on right now. Banba was a huge baseball fanatic, and he was particularly a fan of the local baseball team. He was also the captain of the Ramens. He more often than not was the third batter in our runner-up. His position was the second baseman. Together, we served as the middle-fielders.

I also decided to watch with him. I sat down next to Banba and crossed my legs, slipping out a sigh as I did so.

“Hey, what's the matter?” Banba looked over to me. “Ya seem to be a bit gloomy there.”

“...It's nothing,” so I said, but in truth I felt conflicted.

I finished the job without any incidents. And I was paid handsomely for it. And yet, for some reason, something felt off. I felt unsure about it and had been feeling down for a while now.

I knew why. It was because of what Yamato told me.

He had asserted, ‘someone like Kojima wouldn't be capable of murder or embezzlement.' Kojima had also claimed his innocence, having told me, ‘I didn't do it.' I couldn't take Kojima's word for it, but I could believe my teammate's.

Meanwhile on TV, a breathtaking pitching battle was taking place. The score was zero to zero, and they were on the top of the ninth inning. There were no outs and one runner on first. The player in the batter's box went for a bunt. The momentum of the ball had dissipated, causing it to drop down onto the ground. The third baseman dashed forward and caught the ball. He spun around and threw it. He did not throw it towards first base but rather second.

‘Aaaaand, second is safe! First is safe too!'

The player tried to get an out on second, but the runner had been faster. The player who covered the base had also thrown to first, but his pitch didn't make it on time.

Banba gripped his head in horror next to him. “Argh! Why did ya throw to second!?”

The live announcers were yelling too. ‘No outs, and runners on first and second base! With the fielder's choice on third, their team is even more of a pinch than before!'

Immediately after, the very next pitch had been hit, causing Banba to shriek. The Hawks managed to pull through with a victory, the score one to zero.

The fielder's choice. The events from our last game passed through my mind - the ones during the last inning of the practice match. Back then we lost because we were unable to get an out with my throw. Even if it had been counted as an infield safe hit, it still did not change the fact that my lapse in judgement caused us a crushing defeat.

That was when I had a thought.

And what about this past job?

Was my decision the right one?

I suddenly lost any self-confidence in myself.

“...Did I really make the right one?”

“What's wrong, Lin-chan?” Banba peered at my face when he heard me muttering to myself. “Did somethin' happen?”

The choice I made may have been the wrong one. I folded in on myself and began to summarize what happened, “so you see-”

I thought of Kojima's pitiful face as I talked with Banba. ‘I didn't kill him. Please believe me. I beg you.' I couldn't get his pleading voice out of my head. I couldn't help but feel Kojima hadn't been lying now.

If what he said was true, then I had just sent an innocent person to experience hell.

“I was thinking,” I sighed. “Maybe I had really screwed up.”

I was a hitman first before a detective. I'm not a good person under the law, and I have no intention of taking up the mantle of being a hero. Even so, I was against punishing someone who had been falsely accused.

Perhaps the course of action I should've taken was to not hand Kojima over.

But then again-

“...it's not like I can do anything about it now though.”

It was far too late now. Kojima must have already been executed by the Izuku Group, after having been submitted to extreme torture.

“Life is a series of mistakes,” Banba had spoken up unexpectedly as he watched the TV. “The important thin' is what you choose to do after the fact, ain't it?”

There was a sudden commotion on screen. The live announcers were shouting. A Hawks player had apparently hit a homerun as the replay footage was up. He had hit the slider with a full swing, sending the ball soaring straight past the left stand pole. When Lin looked closer, he realized the player had been no other than the third baseman who made the fielder's choice earlier.

With the solo home run, the team had earned a point. Now the score was even - one to one. They had caught up.

“Men gotta go out by makin' up for their mistakes themselves.” Banba glanced over to Lin and flashed him a toothy grin, “you just gotta follow your gut. And if somethin' happens, your comrades will cover for ya.”

The important thing is what you choose to do after the fact.

You have to make up for your mistakes yourself. You have to trust your instincts.

“...Follow your gut, huh?”

I think I got it.

Somehow, Banba's words had immediately calmed my thoughts. Even though he keeps a stupid grin on all the time, he's also surprisingly perceptive. There are times when I have no idea where he's coming from though.

This time, I decided to follow his advice.

Now what will I do next?

I asked the question to myself.

What choice can I make right now?

In any case, I figured I needed to look at this case again with fresh eyes.

There is someone named Shigematsu, who is another member of the Ramens. His position is the catcher, and he works as a police detective. I first called him up, hoping he would look into something for me.

Several minutes later, Shigematsu called back.

‘I looked into it as you asked, but we haven't found any body yet.'

“I guessed as much…”

It was unfortunate news. I thought I could get a clue if we could examine the manager's body the Izuka Group had taken, but the whereabouts of the body were still left unknown. If the police had nothing on it, then-

‘The casino management is overseen by the Izuka Group, correct?'

I affirmed Shigematsu's question, “yeah, he is.”

‘I asked someone overseeing criminal activity in that time frame. It looks like the Izuka Group had sent the body over to a cleaner to dispose of the body.' I heard Shigematsu heave a sigh over the phone. ‘With how things stand now, it'll be difficult to find it.'

Shigematsu was correct. There was a high possibility that there wasn't a single trace left of the manager's corpse by now. And now with an undertaker involved, it would prove to be even more difficult in finding it.

...Hold on a second.

A certain man's face came to my mind.

“Of course; a cleaner!” I shouted unannounced. 

‘What was that?'

“Thanks, Shigematsu. I might be able to find the body now with your help.”

‘Huh? Wait a moment, Lin-'

I hung up and hailed down a taxi.

My destination was towards Tenjin. There was a clinic over there that an acquaintance of mine runs. On record it poses as a cosmetic surgery clinic, but the director did not solely stick with upright, civil work.

It was eleven at night at this point. It was well past business hours, but someone was still inside the premises.

“Why, hello, Lin-kun.” When I knocked on the door, a bespectacled man in white greeted in inside. “What could you be in for today? It's not often you come here.”

This person is the director of the clinic, Saeki.  He seems like any other gentle-mannered, respectable guy, but he is actually an underground doctor in the black business, even partaking in the purchasing and disposal of corpses. He's a man of many mysteries.

I was brought inside, into a hidden room within the clinic. It was a secret work space, reminiscent of a chilling morgue. There was a table centered in the middle of the room, and underneath its blue vinyl was most likely a sleeping corpse.

“I have something I wanted to ask you about,” I cut to the chase. “Did the Izuka Group approach you for any jobs recently?”

Saeki nodded. “In fact, they did. I am good at what I do after all.”

I was right, I smirked. My hunch was right. I figured if a corpse was involved asking him could lead me somewhere.

“They also asked me to take care of this one.”

The doctor pulled back the vinyl sheets, revealing a bare, male body.

It was Ikuto Kojima. He appeared to have been beaten repeatedly, as his face was swollen up and bruises littered his whole body.

...So he had been killed after all.

I looked away from the tragic sight of his body.

It was an awful feeling. I played a part in his death. My one mistake lead a man to his death.

In that moment, I was struck with a sudden thought. What if this had been one of my comrades? If I caused them trouble for a mistake I made - or worse, something happened to them that could not be undone - then I would be beating myself over for it for the rest of my life.

“Someone from the Izuka Group brought this one in just a bit ago.”

“Did they bring any other ones earlier today? Like around dawn?”

“They did,” Saeki nodded. “There was one they brought here at dawn.”

That was likely the manager's body.

“I'm looking for that body.”

“I am sorry, Lin-kun,” Saeki expressed apologetically. “It is no longer here. They asked for it to be thoroughly disposed - not even the bones to be left behind. I sent it to a diamond funeral director.”

“Diamond funeral what?”

“You can create synthetic diamonds using the extracted carbon from the bones and ashes post cremation. All the remains could be used, so it is ideal for disposing of corpses. It is quite a popular practice within the underground.”

“So you're saying he's a gem now?”

“Yes. I imagine it is being auctioned right now.”

“Damn it,” I clicked my tongue. “Too late…”

I thought I could get a lead on the culprit from the corpse, but that is not feasible anymore if he has been turned into a diamond.

Just as I was at a loss of what to do, Saeki then told me, “however, I do have photos.”

I exclaimed, “really?”

“There is always the possibility that my life could be targeted within this line of work. As such, I secretly keep details on the bodies I dispose of for insurance, should something happen to me.”

The doctor smiled wryly before picking up a file left on a nearby desk, “here it is.” 

Inside were several photos of the body.

“I did an autopsy on it out of habit. Based off how the body was already in rigor mortis and lividity postmortem, I would say the estimated time of death was between midnight and 3 am.”

That was the time frame in which the murder was committed.

“The cause of death was shock due to blood loss. As you can see here, he was stabbed in three different areas across his chest, which appeared to be made by some sort of blunt weapon. It was likely-”

“It was an ice pick,” I confirmed.

“The possibility is high.”

“Yeah. They said the culprit used an ice pick from the facility.”  The story matched with the doctor's diagnosis.

“Based off the location of these wounds, I would say the assailant was between 170 and 180 centimeters tall. And there is a high chance they were left-handed.”

“...Left-handed?”

Saeki nodded, “please look here,” and pointed at the photo of the body where the stab wounds were. “When I examined the angle of which these wounds were made, I found that all three were made coming from the left and then diagonally across. It would be unnatural for a right-handed person to stab someone in the chest with an ice pick when swinging it at the angle they did.”

I nodded in agreement. I had tried out a few different ways of stabbing someone before, and you would handle the trajectory of the weapon differently between the left and right hand. To wield an ice pick and make the wounds they did would be beyond unnatural.

I took out a photo from my pocket. On it was Kojima, who was holding his smartphone in his right hand. “...Ikuto Kojima was right-handed.”

So this really wasn't his doing after all. Then who was the real culprit?

“The culprit is left-handed…”

If my memory serves me right, then there's a good chance that man was the true murderer. 

I took out my phone and made a call, in order to assess the truth.

“Hey, mushroom.” It was the informant. “I need you to look up someone ASAP.”

In the end, what is right? And what is the action I should take? I honestly don't know. Maybe there isn't even a right answer to begin with. Even if I take certain actions under the impression I'm in the right, from another perspective what I'm doing could be wrong.

Still, I really could care less. What's important is how I can perceive it. And to that end, I don't mind not using the best method out there. Even if it's a terrible choice that goes against the law, it is still better than letting the real culprit get away.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?” A man turned to me as soon as I stepped into the illegal casino the Izuka Group ran. The man stood, leaning against the open bar in the corner of the room. He was Fukumoto, the owner of this casino as well as my client - the very same guy who paid me for handing Kojima over to him earlier.

It was dawn now. The casino has been closed for some odd hours now, without a single customer in sight. All the staff were absent too and at home. The only people present was myself and Fukumoto. I made it this way. I called Fukumoto here and requested we talk alone.

“I did some investigating on you,” I started, facing Fukumoto. “Our informant is very skilled at what he does. We found some juicy stuff about you. You seem to be a gambling addict. There was surveillance footage of you going into another underground casino in the area. It was being run by a yakuza gang, the Matsudai Group, y'know.”

Afterwards, I had Enokida do a thorough background check on the Fukumoto. Still, I was a bit stunned when I heard he was affiliated with other yakuza gangs.

“And what of it?” Fukumoto questioned, a defiant look on his face. “It's just monitoring our enemies. And besides, what's wrong with having a bit of fun once in a while?”

“A little fun…?” I scoffed. “I wouldn't say it's just a bit of fun if you get yourself drowning in debt.”

Fukumoto finally reacted when I mentioned the word ‘debt.' His eyes widened in response. “Why do you-”

“Like I said. Our informant is good at what he does.”

There is nothing that mushroom wouldn't be able to dig up. Not only did he find out about Fukumoto's ties with the underground casino the Matsudai Group ran, but he also discovered the frequent loans he made with Genkai Financing - which was the Matsudai Group's outward business. I had also taken a few jobs from them in the past.

In any case, Fukumoto was completely under the Matsudai Group's thumb.

“When we looked into it further, we discovered that you paid off your debts on days following ones when the numbers in the casino's logbook were off. I hardly think I could pass this off as mere coincidence.”

Fukumoto's expression turned slightly grim, “...what the hell are you getting at?” There was vigilance in his tone. Looks like I got my point across.

“Kojima wasn't the one who took the casino's money. It was you, wasn't it?”

I went on, staring Fukumoto down, “you embezzled the profits to settle your debts. The owner learned of this and threatened to report you to the owner of the Izuka Group. Panicked, you killed the manager to keep this from getting out. And then you had the idea of framing Kojima to cover your tracks.”

“As if,” Fukumoto snorted, however there was no smile in his eyes.

“When we examined the manager's body, we figured out there was a high possibility the murderer was left-handed. And that's when I remembered that you were left-handed.”

I remember it clearly. He had counted the bills using his left fingers when he paid me in the garage parking.

“Kojima didn't kill him. You did it.”

“I didn't kill him,” Fukumoto immediately replied.

I expected that response. “Of course you'd be adamant to admit it.”

“Those are just speculations.” Fukumoto looked at me provocatively, “there's plenty other people in the world who are left-handed. What proof do you have that I killed him?”

“None,” I shrugged. “There was no surveillance footage, and what's left of the body is in a diamond now.”

I had no proof. I only had my own speculations.

“So I'll make proof.”

“Make proof…?”

“Yeah.” I had an idea. “If I don't have proof, then I just have to make it.”

There is proof that cannot be destroyed as long as the culprit is alive. It's called a ‘confession.'

Unlike investigators, we don't have to uphold the law. So we can easily prove they are guilty if we force them to fess up. Getting a confession out of coercion will suffice as proof.

“And to accomplish this, I called in a helper today.”

“A helper?”

“A torture I'm friends with. He should be here soon.”

I have a foreigner friend named José Martinez. He's also a teammate of mine on the Ramens, and his position is first baseman. He's the fourth batter in the run up we greatly rely on.

We don't just depend on him for baseball either. Martinez works as a torturer. He is well versed in tormenting people. He's a kind person at his core, but he's also got a knack to pressure someone mentally and get information out of them.

“I'll have him torture you to get a confession out of you. I hope you're ready.”

A moment later, the door opened. Seems like Martinez made it.

“You're late, Mar-” I caught off, at a loss of words when I turned towards the entrance.

That's not Martinez.

It was not my friend who came in through the door but men in black who look like they were part of the yakuza. There were five in total. It was likely all of them were Fukumoto's lackeys.

What is the meaning of this?

“You're not the only one with a skilled informant as a pet.” Fukumoto smirked, “I knew you were sniffing around trying to find stuff on me. So I decided to dispose of you. I sent a hitman to your residence, but I guess I sent him to the wrong place. I didn't expect you'd show up here yourself.”

My residence? Does he mean the detective office?

A sense of foreboding came over me. I clicked my tongue. 

Banba's at the office. He's probably sleeping away carefree right now. He's still on the mend from his injuries too; he's not up to shape. I hope he's not in any huge trouble…

Fukumoto sneered at me, “you should've just followed your instructions. You're really stupid to have dug around when everything was already settled. You carelessly walked right into your death.”

“Can I take that as a confession, then?”

“Does it matter? You're going to die here.”

The lackeys surrounding me held up their guns all at once.

“...I see. That's how it's going to be?”

So Fukumoto is not the only one willing to sacrifice others for their own benefit. They conspired with Fukumoto to get a bit of the sharings by helping him cover up the sales.

‘Already settled?' I couldn't overlook what Fukumoto said. This case isn't over yet.

Besides, I do plan on following through with the job in earnest.

“I was requested to catch the culprit.” Slowly, I took out the knife-pistol from my pocket. “And I plan on doing just that.”

This is my choice.

There are six people with weapons, including Fukumoto. My weapon can also serve as a gun, but I do not have enough bullets to take care of all of them. Knife-pistols are for surprise attacks. It's not suited for a shoot-out. First, I have to procure a weapon.

When Fukumoto gave the signal, the men went to pull the triggers.

In that same moment, I made my move. I rushed over to the nearest man and kicked his arm, just before he was able to pull the trigger. A gunshot went off; the barrel of the gun was pointed towards the ceiling. The bullet lodged into the ceiling, completely missing its target.

Next, I punched the man in his solar plexus. The man's strength faltered due to the extreme pain, causing the gun to slip from his grasp. I grabbed it and swung myself behind him, using his body as a shield. Even if they were yakuza, they would not be willing to gun down their friend. I placed the knife I held in my left hand against the man's throat, “do not move.”

Fukumoto yelled, “what the hell are you doing!? Hurry and kill him!”

We were at a stalemate. The men in black held their guns up but unable to make a move with their comrade as my hostage.

But I took action. I had the gun I took in my right hand. I aimed it at the four guys with their guns pointed at me and shot them. I got one in the head and the other three in the chest.

The remaining two were crouched down, running around the premises for cover. I couldn't aim well while still holding the hostage, so I slit his throat and dropped him.

An intense shootout ensued.

I knocked over a nearby Baccarat stand and hid behind it to shield myself from the oncoming bullets, taking shots at the remaining two lackeys. One got hit in the chest and collapsed. The other one I got in the thigh. I dealt the final blow as he attempted to limp away.

By the time I finished off all the lackeys, the casino was in disarray. There were bodies splayed out over the place, blood splattered on the floors and ceilings, and the chairs and Baccarat stands were riddled with bullets. The facility wouldn't be able to open for business in this condition.

During the shootout, Fukumoto kept himself held up behind the counter of the open bar, but at some point he managed to make it to the door in an attempt to escape.

“Wh, who the hell are you!?” Fukumoto shouted just as he tried to step outside.

A man stood outside the door, blocking the exit.

He was a foreigner with dark skin and a huge physique. He was my friend, Martinez.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Lin. I got a bit behind,” Martinez raised a hand to me in greeting.

“No,” I shook my head. He got here in great timing. “Perfect timing, actually. Can you catch him for me?”

“Okay.”

Martinez quickly sauntered over to the retreating Fukumoto and restrained him, pushing him to the ground and preventing him from moving. Fukumoto was at his wit's end, unable to struggle against the near two meter giant holding him down.

Now it was time for his torture session.

“Once you're done, hand him over to the Izuka Group. And make sure you give them the audio you record for his confession too.”

“Wh” Fukumoto's eyes widened in shock. “Cut the crap!”

“Still, looks like you had quite the shoot out here…” Martinez looked around and laughed. “Good thing I came late.”

“I'll leave the rest to you.”

“Okay.”

Martinez took out a syringe and inserted the needle into Fukumoto's neck. The liquid slowly was injected into his blood vessel.

Fukumoto panicked. “...Wh-what did you do?”

“I gave you a shot of thiopental.” Martinez gave a small smile, “don't worry; you're not going to die from this. It's also known as truth serum. Soon enough, you'll be willing to talk to me.”

“D-don't touch me!” Fukumoto yelled, twisting in Martinez's grip. “You fucking bastard!”

“You're the bastard, here,” I stated, staring him in the eye. “You brought this on yourself. How about you take a moment to reflect on your actions.”

Fukumoto had wailed for a while, but once the drug kicked in he began to turn docile. He had a hollow look in his eyes, seemingly in a daze. It was only a matter of time before he would start talking.

It was then that I remembered something crucial. Earlier Fukumoto had said he sent a hitman to my house.

“Shit, Banba's-”

Banba was in danger.

The assassin Fukumoto hired should already be at the office by now. Was he alright? I took out my phone as Martinez tied Fukumoto up and called Banba.

He picked up on the third ring, ‘hello?'

...So he's alive.

“Hey, are you okay?”

He replied with his usual carefree tone, ‘what's the matter, Lin-chan?'

“What's the matter? At your place there's-”

‘Oh yeah,' Banba exclaimed, as though he just recalled something. ‘Now that you mention it, we got a visitor not too long ago.'

“It's an assassin from the Izuka Group. He was coming for me.”

‘He's knocked out on the ground right now.'

Banba was safe. Thank goodness. I exhaled. Not that I believed he would be killed so easily, anyway.

“...I'm sorry. I caused you trouble.”

Even if he was alright, it was my fault for letting danger get to a weakened Banba. It was my error in not expecting Fukumoto's retaliation.

Even so-

‘It's all fine,' Banba laughed on the other side of the line. ‘I told ya your comrades will cover for ya, right?'

I guess he did. I smiled too.

I was unable to solve this case by myself. Everyone on the Ramens pitched in too.

I sure have good friends, I thought to myself.

I guess picking up baseball at that time wasn't the wrong choice after all.

After I finished the call, I turned to Martinez as he started to make preparations for recording, “hey, are you hungry? Once we're done here, let's invite the other Ramens and go out for a few drinks.”

Martinez's eyes widened when I specified I would be paying, “what's up with you all the sudden? Are you ill?”

“I can do this every now and then,” I smirked. I was going to leave my gratitude unspoken.

Martinez nodded and grinned before pressing the record button, “then let's hurry and wrap this up.”

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Translation: Kaede726
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