Hakata Tonkotsu Ramens Volume 6 Chapter 4

Top of the Fourth Inning “Listen up you guys.” Lin questioned the Chinese men to reaffirm once more. “You got the plan memorized?”
The four men present nodded simultaneously.
Including Lin, all together they were a group of five and wore pitch black leather suits to blend into the darkness. They were going to carry out the kidnapping of Kishihara, the young leader of the Noma Group.
The plan went as followed. They knew Kishihara's home was in Akasaka thanks to Enokida's research. And Kishihara would work out at a sports gym on a daily basis late into the night. They decided to wait for the moment Kishihara left the twenty-four hour gym.
They brought two motorcycles and an eight-pa.s.senger van. Four of them, including Lin, would ride the motorcycles and the last person would drive the van.
First, one of the motorcycles would pull out in front of the vehicle Kishihara would be in to slow them down. If they could shoot the driver dead, that would be even better. The other motorcycle would approach the vehicle in the darkness. Lin would ride on the backseat. They would block the vehicle's path of escape from behind if they try to reverse. They would use a crowbar to break the windows and pull out guns on Kishihara and his men to threaten them to comply. Lin would get off the motorcycle and cut the tires so they could not move. It was also Lin's job to finish the men accompanying Kishihara.
The van would be waiting nearby. They would all quickly flee the scene once they capture Kishihara and put him in the van. And then the plan would be finished.
At two am there was a black, high-cla.s.s car parked in front of Kishihara's home. The windows were tinted, so it was impossible to see anything inside. From the size of the vehicle, it looks like it could allow no more than five pa.s.sengers.
A few minutes later, Kishihara appeared wearing a sports outfit and got into the backseat.
“Commence the battle plan. Let's go.”
Lin ordered, putting a full-face helmet on his head as the car took off.
The members took action at Lin's signal. The second motorcycle pursued after the car Kishihara was in. The first motorcycle pa.s.sed by the car in a narrow alleyway and stopped to block their path. The car horn blared a few times. The man on the motorcycle took out a gun and fired into the windshield, stopping the driver. Kishihara's lackeys rushed out of the car hastily, and before they could counter attack they got shot, causing them to bend over and hold their stomachs.
The motorcycle Lin was on parked instantly behind the car. Once Lin got off the motorcycle, he swiftly cut the tires using a knife with impossible speed.
Everything so far was going according to plan. But then, in the next second-
“Uwaagh, argh-”
He abruptly heard the scream of one of the Chinese men. It was the voice of the man driving the motorcycle Lin was on. When Lin spun around, he saw a silhouette into his field of vision. A man in black clothes shifted in the dim lighting. He was tall and held a long weapon: a j.a.panese sword.
The man had first stabbed the Chinese man in the arm and knocked his handgun out of his hand with a scabbard. He then went after the other two on the first motorcycle. The Chinese men hastily fired at the black figure rushing up to them, but the man had dodged all the bullets. As soon as he was close enough, the man swung his j.a.panese sword, cutting the two down. The Chinese men all fell on the spot. Lin was the only one who remained. Lin swiftly brandished his Chinese knife-pistol and looked over the unknown man.
The other had took notice of him and made bold steps towards him. Lin immediately blocked his attacks with the blade of his knife. The blades clashed with a high pitched sound.
It was when they got so close they could hear each other's breathing that Lin finally saw his opponent's face.
Lin was startled, peering at the man from the helmet visor.
The man wore a mask.
A red, Niwaka mask.
“...BBanba?”
The man instantly stilled at Lin's voice.
Why is Banba here? Did he get a job from the Noma Group?
Too many questions arose to his mind. Because he was so distraught, he was unprepared for the other's attack. Banba kicked him. Dealing a blow to the stomach, Lin was flown back with great force. He knocked into the concrete wall behind him and collapsed to the ground. During that time, Banba stole one of the motorcycles and gallantly drove off with Kishihara on the back.
Still taken aback, Lin watched him retreat.
“...He can ride a motorcycle?”
Even though he lived with him, he hardly knew anything about him.
But this was not the time to focus on trivial matters. Lin looked around the area. He clicked his tongue upon seeing the state the Chinese men were in.
The plan failed.

Banba accepted to take Sayuri's place for a certain job when she asked him in the Nakasu nightclub 10thousand. A gang called the Noma Group was in search of a skilled hitman and the job offer was brought to Sayuri, but unfortunately the requirements of the job was not her specialty. Sayuri then pushed the job onto Banba, who happened to be available. Banba was in debt to her for a lot of things. He could not turn her down.
Banba met with the young leader of the Noma Group, Kishihara, in Sayuri's place and was asked to be his bodyguard. He was ordered to beat the men after his life. A hitman's work was not just limited to killing people when working for underground organizations. It was commonplace to do mercenary-like work as well.
That night when Banba accompanied Kishihara, an ambush occurred. A few men on motorcycles were after Kishihara. Banba never expected someone he knew well to be involved in the attack though.
After he had escaped with the stolen motorcycle, Kishihara on back, Banba brought his client to the Noma Group's headquarters. Kishihara had lost interest in going to the sports gym.
“You worked well today.”
Kishihara thanked Banba in a private room where several of his henchmen were stationed and gave him his payment. He was told  it was his bonus.
“I was saved because of you. That should have taught those Chinese men a lesson.”
After Banba took the additional payment, he put it in his pocket.
“Until next time.”
Banba nodded wordlessly at his client's farewell and left their headquarters.

“Dammit!”
Lin shouted and kicked over a nearby chair once he had returned to the Chinese men's hideout.
“Hey, what's wrong?”
“Where's Kishihara?”
The Chinese men leaned over and questioned Lin. Lin answered them, irritated. “Does it look like the plan went well?”
The plan had failed. Not only did they not succeed in kidnapping Kishihara, but three men came out as casualties. The men on the motorcycles besides Lin were sent to an underground doctor the group was affiliated with.
“What happened?”
The man with the qualities of a leader asked him. Lin then explained the details of what transpired from beginning to end.
“The Noma Group also hired a hitman...Have you heard of the Niwaka Samurai before? He's the stupid-looking killer who wears a mask.”
The moment they heard what Lin said, they all turned pale. “What did you say?” “The Niwaka Samurai?” “It can't be, that big shot…!” They all murmured to themselves and exchanged glances.
“Hey, what's wrong?” Lin grew sullen, seeing the Chinese men cower in fear. “Why are you looking like that? You don't plan to pull out of this are you? Are you alright with them getting away with it?”
“But the opponent is the Niwaka Samurai.” One of the members refuted. “I've heard rumors about him. He's the killer of killers, the strongest in f.u.kuok”
“And so what?”
Lin cut off the man and yelled.
“They were the ones who started all of this in the first place.”
This Chinese group was only doing business. And then the Noma Group b.u.t.ted in. They got offended, hurt one of their comrades and then finished him off.
The moment the men heard the name of the Niwaka Samurai they became uncertain, so Lin added to stir them up. “You were just doing work. And yet they blew it out of proportion. Don't you think that's unforgivable?”
Banba's face suddenly came to his mind. Lin was just cleaning, but the selfish man had one-sidedly raged at him and left the house. It was because of him that the plan failed. Lin grew more frustrated.
“Are you just going to sit idly on this?”
He clenched his fists tightly. I'm going to give Banba a lesson, Lin decided internally and then instigated the men.
“If you're just going to call it quits, your friend in heaven will grieve.”
The Chinese men's expressions changed when he uttered the word ‘friend.'
“Yeah, he's right.”
“At this rate, Zhou won't be put to rest.”
“Let's do it.”
“Let's get back at them.”
The Chinese men congregated around the Mahjong table. They began to discuss how to get revenge.
After a while, they came to a decision.
“If the Niwaka Samurai is going to accompany Kishihara, then we can just go after his subordinates. They interfered with our deals too many times. So we'll interfere with theirs.”
“That sounds good.”
“Let's do that.”
They seemed to have devised a plan to attack them during a drug trade deal and steal their money and products.
Lin made a call as soon as the Chinese men made their resolve. Enokida picked up immediately. ‘h.e.l.lo?'
“Hey, mushroom.”
‘Ah, it's you again. Did you make up with Banbsan by now?'
Lin scowled when Enokida mentioned his name. “Nope. I'm about to go into an all-out-war with him.”
‘...What?'
Enokida replied back, astonished.
Lin paid him no mind and stated his business. “I want information on the Noma Group's business deals. Find them as fast as you can.”
Bottom of the Fourth Inning “Looks like you know something, don't you?”
Ricardo reacted slightly when Martinez mentioned the Chinese group. He was a DEA agent. He must be well informed with anything pertaining to those occupations.
“Hey, Rico. What are you looking for this time?”
“Next question.” Ricardo continued with the interrogation without answering Martinez's question. “Do you know the guy who sold me out nine years ago?”
Martinez thought back when asked. That was back when he was still part of the cartel. Don Ramiro had a secret meeting with an agent. Martinez, as his second-hand man, accompanied him. It took place at a bar Ramiro frequented in Veracruz. There, Ramiro had bribed the investigator in person for information. The man told him, ‘Richard Louis who was working as a courier for the Veracruz cartel is a spy.'
Martinez had also known Louis. The man had joined the cartel a few years prior. There was nothing unsatisfactory with his work. So he did not expect his real ident.i.ty to be Ricardo Seiya Ortega, the name of a DEA agent and their traitor. All the drugs he had smuggled were confiscated by the investigator agency. Naturally Don Ramiro was furious to learn this revelation. He ordered his men to have Louis captured at once. And Martinez was ordered to torture him.
Martinez thought back on the man who had met with Ramiro in that Mexican bar, recalling the tattletale's face who sold Ricardo out to the cartel, and answered. “He said he was someone who had power in the police, but I don't know his name. However, I did see his face. He was Latino.”
“Was he a Mexican police officer?”
“Maybe. It's a den of corrupt officers over there.”
Because of the drug war, the members in the cartel naturally had shootouts with the police on a daily basis. And police officers made meager salary despite it being a life-risking job. There were people who would sell out their comrades for extra coin or let drug dealers go for a bride. There was even in instance in the past where a writer that inconvenienced the cartel was erased and a Mexican police officer covered up the murder. The police were not the only ones corrupted; the politicians were too. Even high officials who insisted on exterminating drugs had deep connections to the cartel.
“I'll give you the man's features, so bring in a portrait artist next time.” Martinez suggested.
Nine years have pa.s.sed since then. The man could have already quit the police. It was also not a rare occurrence for police officers to become a narco in Mexico.
“Was that the last of what you wanted to ask me?”
Ricardo fell silent at Martinez's question.
Martinez thought the interrogation was over, but he still had something to ask.
After a few moments, he spoke. “...Why did you save me back then?”

Back then, that one instance that took place in a hotel nine years ago.
“Adios, investigator.”
The moment the Veracruz executioner raised his knife, Ricardo antic.i.p.ated his death. He gave up on surviving and closed his eyes, relaxing his whole body and awaited for Alex's blow.
But the blade Alex swung down did not touch Ricardo's body. Instead, it had cut the rope binding Ricardo. After he untied his hands, he then cut the rope tying Ricardo's legs.
“...Hey, what's the meaning of this?”
Ricardo's eyes widened, stunned to suddenly be released.
Alex did not answer his question. He just ordered him to stay still and neatly wiped off the blood from Ricardo's body with a towel.
Ricardo was bewildered, wondering what his intentions were.
“To stop the bleeding.” Alex replied in answer and began to wrap bandages around his body. “I didn't cut you deeply. They're just incisions.”
Ricardo watched the killer proceed with attending to his wounds skillfully, dumbfounded.
What is this? What is this man planning? Don Ramiro had ordered him to kill me. And yet, why is he…?
“...You won't kill me?”
Ricardo asked softly.
“No, I won't.”
Alex replied immediately. “I'm going to let you go.”
Ricardo questioned what he heard when those unbelievable words fell from the killer's lips. “What did you say?”
“Stay quiet. Or else the people on watch will hear.”
He was right; Ramiro's henchmen were stationed outside the room. Ricardo bit his tongue.
“Here, it's water.” Alex took out a plastic water bottle from the refrigerator and handed it over to Ricardo. “Drink all of it and go take a p.i.s.s. It'll help get the drug out of your system.”
Ricardo did as instructed and drank all the mineral water before using the restroom. When he returned, Alex asked him. “Can you walk?”
“Yeah, I can manage.”
He was still shaky, but he should be fine with short breaks.
“There are two men on watch in front of the door.”
“...What do you plan on doing?” Ricardo frowned. What does he plan to do to get me out of here?
Alex then picked up the hotel's telephone and made a call somewhere.
“...Ah, h.e.l.lo? Is this the front desk? I want room service. Yes, please. I'd like the breakfast set.”
Room service?
Once Alex hung up, Ricardo questioned him in a small voice. “Hey, this isn't the time or place to have a meal.”
“I'm very much aware.” Alex scowled at him. “A boy from the hotel will come here soon. We're going to knock him out and steal his clothes.”
So he intended to have him pretend to be the service boy and sneak out of the hotel. Ricardo followed his plan now. However, he did not understand the crucial details. Ricardo asked. “...Why are you helping me?”
Alex made a mischievous smile and winked at him.
“Your face is my type, so I think it would be a shame to kill you.”

Afterwards, Ricardo changed into the service boy's clothes to pretend to be a hotel employee and escape, allowing him to return to his comrades at the DEA safely. He had been saved by the hitman of the drug cartel, the Veracruz executioner.
“...Why did you save me back then?”
The issue had kept tugging at his mind for the past nine years, unaware of the reason. Ricardo did not believe the hitman saved him just because he felt like it.
“I told you, right?” In front of him, Alex - José Martinez smirked. “That your face is my type.”
Frustrated that the man did not answer him seriously, Ricardo punched him in the stomach. Martinez groaned and glared back, “that hurt. Don't punch me.”
“You make me sick,” Ricardo returned the glare and cursed him. “You d.a.m.n h.o.m.o.”
Martinez smiled wryly. “Seriously, h.o.m.ophobes can't take a joke.”
“The next time you pull that, I'll strike you against your bald head.”
Ricardo threatened in a low growl.
“Okay. I'll talk.”
Martinez shrugged in resignation.
“I saved you because I came to despise drugs.”
Ricardo c.o.c.ked his head, taken aback when the unthinkable statement came from the former hitman of a drug cartel. “What do you mean?”
“I was considering to leave the organization back then.”
Martinez began to languidly explain what had happened at the time in a calm manner.
“A certain politician was connected with Ramiro Sanchez. But that wasn't anything unusual in Mexico. The police and the politicians were all after extra cash from the cartels. And that politician was no different.”
As he stated, the country was corrupt. Politicians had a give-and-take relationship with drug cartels.
“However, one journalist was sticking his nose in that politician's corruption. He was attempting to expose the connection between the politician and the cartel to correct this mad world.”
“A model journalist.”
However, a brave reporter doing righteous acts was seen as a reckless fool to the drug cartels. It was said more than one hundred journalists were killed in Mexico since 2007.
“And the politician consulted Don Ramiro on his problem. He told him he needed him to do something as the elections were going on. So Ramiro ordered me to do it.”
“To kill the journalist?”
“No.” Martinez shook his head. “His family.”
He sighed slightly before continuing on.
“‘Kill that man's relatives one by one in the most cruel way possible so he won't feel like sniffing around again and so he could quit his journalist job.' That was my order. I would receive 1000 peso for each person. Pretty extraordinary, right?.”
One peso was roughly worth five to six yen. The price was far too low for the worth of a human life.
“So, what did you do?”
“I first went to his home to check it out. I wouldn't say the journalist had a luxurious life. He had a ton of siblings. Lots of young little brothers and sisters...just like I had.”
His tone sounded somewhat self-ridiculing. Ricardo did not say anything and kept listening to Martinez's tale.
“I was reminded of my family in that moment. My brothers I had living in the Dominican Republic. And that was when I had the thought: what if someone was after my own family exactly like this. I couldn't handle it...thinking each of my siblings to be taken from me for no more than 1000 pesos.”
Martinez kept going.
“That was when I realized. I was doing exactly that. I suddenly came to despise everything I took part in. The drugs, Don Ramiro, the cartel, and even myself who was a part of that. And then I began to think of getting out of the organization. I loathed the current, rotten state Mexico was in which would take the general, innocent citizens' lives because of drugs. ...And that was when you were caught.”
The h.e.l.l Ricardo did not want to remember followed after.
“Ramiro ordered me to torture you.”
And this man had hurt him.
“Yeah, you did.” Ricardo surly bit back. “That hurt like h.e.l.l. I thought I was going to die.”
“I didn't want to kill people anymore. I wanted to save you. Ramiro had told me he would drop by to see how it was going later, so I had to cut you up a bit for show.”
“Yeah, a little bit. Just in thirty places.”
“I avoided your vitals.”
“Why thank you.”
Martinez smiled bitterly at Ricardo's sarcastic retort.
Ricardo could tell this man was not lying. He now knew the reason why he had saved him, so he moved onto the next question. “You vanished after you saved me. What kind of magic did you use to accomplish that feat?”
By the time Ricardo returned to work after being saved by Alex, having taken time off to recuperate, Don Ramiro had been arrested and the Veracruz cartel had been dismantled. Ricardo was stunned when he heard that neither the DEA or Mexican police were responsible for their demise; it was the work of the hitman from that very cartel. And immediately afterwards, the hitman had completely vanished.
“Ramiro traded drugs and weapons to terrorist organizations in the middle east. As such, the CIA were involved. I sold information to the CIA on Ramiro and the cartel in exchange to escape overseas through the WITSEC program.”
From drug cartels and terrorist groups to even the American secret services.
Ricardo snorted. “That sounds like a scenario in a movie.”
“I got the Ariel award.”
Ricardo ignored Martinez's joke and continued onto the next question.
“So then you came to j.a.pan?”
“Yeah, I came to f.u.kuoka under a new ident.i.ty and started out living in a cheap apartment where illegal immigrants resided. After some time had pa.s.sed, I picked up torture work. Which brings us to the present.”
Don Ramiro and several executives were arrested due to the information the hitman Alex leaked, and the Veracruz cartel fell apart. Ricardo had heard rumor that a surviving faction of the group started a new clique, but the CIA had considered Alex's accomplishments to be impactful for cutting off the terrorists group's major source of income. So much so they allowed the hitman to escape overseas.
“Sorry about what happened back then, Rico.”
Martinez offered a sudden apology. “You can hurt me as much as you want until you're satisfied. I'm ready.”
The former killer expressed modestly. Ricardo sneered. “I have no intention of getting rid of my grudge against you nor do I plan on forgiving you.”
“Then what do you want me to do?”
There was a reason Ricardo had captured this man. Ricardo did not want to run into him originally, but he had value. He could possibly use this man.
Ricardo stated in a low voice. “Infiltrate the Noma Group.”
“...What did you say?”
Martinez was taken aback.
“I'm currently in the Noma Group as a dealer, but they've become aware of the presence of a spy. I was just considering to pull out. But you can sneak in for me.”
Martinez made a dry laugh. “Come on, are you telling me to pretend to be one of those narco b.a.s.t.a.r.ds?”
“I am. Approach them as a dealer and get information from them.”
“I'm not kidding. I can't do that.”
“It should be easy for you as you used to be a narco.”
“And what will happen if I get caught? I'll be killed.”
“Then try not to be found out. You're a criminal, so they'll trust you.”
“On that note,” Martinez could not easily agree to the conditions. “Why do I have to do something so dangerous?”
“Do you think you're in a position to refuse?”
Ricardo then made another threat. “If you won't do as I say, I'll toss you to the ICPO.”
Martinez's complexion changed when he heard the term. “...So it's come to using Interpol.” He seemed familiar with them.
“Under the Mexican police's request, the ICPO has put out a bounty for Alejandro Rodrigez internationally. Your charges are fifty-six murders, seventy-two a.s.saults-”
“Hey, hold on.” Martinez cut Ricardo off and frowned. “I only killed about thirty people.”
“It is from Ramiro Sanchez's statement. He's blaming you for crimes which got exaggerated during investigation.”
Martinez tutted. “...That d.a.m.n old man.”
“There's still other charges. Twenty-four robberies, and one rape.”
Martinez's eye widened. “Wh? Rape?”
“You took advantage of a police officer, didn't you? He was a young, Mexican man.”
He scowled, recalling the past. “Absolutely not. That was consensual.”
“I don't care about your s.e.x life. No matter how many people you've killed, or if you've violated someone or not, it does not change the fact that you're a criminal. If you don't listen to me, I'll hand you over to the ICPO.”
After he stated that, Ricardo smirked.
“Or should I let Don Ramiro know where you are? That old man would love to meet a traitor like you. When I saw him in prison, he entrusted me with a message: ‘You must miss your hometown, right? I'll place your head in front of the statue of Columbus.'”
Martinez grimaced, probably thinking of the face of his former boss.
“...What a terrifying old man.”
“If you don't want that, then follow my orders.”
Ricardo thought he would have relented by now, but Martinez was still reluctant.
“Hold on. That isn't sufficient. There are not enough merits. I want some benefits out of this too.”
So he won't do it for free? What a persistent guy. Ricardo sighed. “What do you want? A new ident.i.ty? If you succeed in sneaking and investigating, I could get you another person's ID through the DEA protection program and let you flee to another country.”
“I'd rather have my bounty taken down. I want to live peacefully in this city. You have connections in Interpol, right?”
He did. Ricardo nodded. “I'll think about it.”
“...You're a terrible liar.” Martinez glared at him dubiously, but he seemed to prepare himself for the worst. “Anyway, I suppose I don't have the right to refuse in the end. I'll help you, Rico.”
Negotiations were complete.
Ricardo uncuffed Martinez. Once he untied his limbs, he handed Martinez a plastic leg brace as he rubbed his wrists. “Put this on.”
“What is it?”
“A GPS device. This way I know where you are. If you try to escape to another prefecture or try to take it off, an alarm will go off on my device to notify me.”
Martinez made an openly annoyed expression. “Isn't this something American criminals usually wear?”
It was. It was a device for criminal investigators, information providers, and undercover operatives to keep track of villains released out into the world, starting from s.e.xual predators who had a high chance of getting a second offense.
“Come on, you're telling me to wear the same time as criminals?”
“Do you have a problem with it? You're a criminal yourself.”
“...Okay.”
After he cursed, Martinez unwilling obeyed. “I won't run even without wearing this.” He muttered complaints.
“That reminds me,” Martinez changed the topic once he put the GPS on his right leg. “How come DEA agents are looking into the Noma Group?”
“It's not just the Noma Group.”
Ever since Operation Condor took place in the 1970s when herbicides were sprayed onto opium fields in the mountain districts, the American Drug Enforcement a.s.sociation partook in eliminating drug cartels in Mexico and anyone a.s.sociated with them. The reason Ricardo, an agent for the DEA, was deployed to the f.u.kuoka area was related to cartel activity.
“In the past couple of years, the cartels have started to move their operations to Asia. Out of the forty dealers who were arrested in China, one was Mexican. And in the Philippines, three people affiliated to the Sinaloa cartel were arrested.”
The Mexican drug cartels were currently looking for another place to carry out business. Asia was the number one option.
“They may arrive in j.a.pan soon. And f.u.kuoka has many foreigners coming in and out and can act as a central route out of the other cities.”
“I see,” Martinez nodded. The former hitman was smarter than he looked, grasping the general outline. “The drug cartels and the Noma Group may have a connection, so you're on the lookout for any activity from them in the city?”
“Exactly.”
The DEA sent their agents undercover over to Asian countries, keeping watch on the flying sparks
“d.a.m.n...cartels are such a pain in the a.s.s.”
Martinez forcibly sighed.
from the sudden outburst of the drug war that took off in Mexico spreading to other countries.
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Translation: Kaede726
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Editor: Voissane
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