Note: This gaiden story does mention some volume 6 material, but it is not too much or too little where you have to read the sixth volume beforehand.
"A torturer has to be a gentleman."
Those were the words the boss told me back when I was still in Mexico.
There was no one in the city of Veracruz in Mexico who did not know the extent of how evil that man – Ramiro Sanchez – was. Even so, he was the one who took me in after I ended up quitting my dream of playing for the major league, falling into despair, and becoming just a mere street thug. For some reason he had hired me. I was just a damn kid in my late teens and hadn't even been part of the drug cartel world for even a year when the drug lord Don Ramiro ordered me out of the blue one day to try the role of a torturer.
I guess there was a dispute with the torturer who was in the cartel and had just lost his life, and he was looking for someone to replace him. But from my perspective, I was not expecting that order at all. It could be seen as obscure, but I've always imagined I'd be destined to live my days in this anti-social organization and get arrested and released from prison frequently until I got shot down by an enemy group or police. So the boss's words greatly surprised me.
A torturer was a vital role in which they had to get a hand on various information on organizations. Naturally, the person who had to do this had to be extremely loyal and trustworthy. And that huge position was given to the likes of me? I was still a young newcomer in this industry. That was too much responsibility for me.
"…..Can I do it?"
I realized I said it like the coward I was, and to the drug lord of Veracruz no less.
Why did I say something so weak? I could have gotten scolded at or even been given a few punches for that, but the boss was more broad-minded.
"You're sharp. You got brains unlike everyone else here, so you wouldn't use force."
The boss smiled, making wrinkles form around his eyes.
"That's why you'd be well suited for this job."
Torture was not violence.
That was what the drug lord had told me.
A torturer couldn't be some sadistic. It was a refined, artistic and delicate job.
"Listen, alright? Don't kill them."
He had told me.
"Absolutely do not finish them off."
The greatest taboo a torturer could commit was to easily kill their victim.
In the beginning, my young self had thought I could just hurt them when it came to torture. As long as I kept hitting them and cutting them up, their heart would break. But the drug lord taught me that was not the case. He told me you had to hurt them while touching their body sweetly, just like when you love a woman – although I've never loved women. That was what torture was.
The job for a torturer could be broken into two parts. One was to make the person talk. The other was to punish them as they would expect.
The objective either way was to use the same method. I had to make them live longer and have them feel fear and pain. With love. A torturer's essence was to damage their victim psychologically; not physically damage them.
In other words, torture was the means to make someone live. To extend their lives as much as possible. It was necessary to consider the state of their body so that way a torturer doesn't kill them or make them lose consciousness. And that was why a torturer had to be kind-hearted, loving, and gentleman-like.
I strangely got the various things the boss told me. I didn't like to hurt people or kill anyone, but I thought to myself that maybe if being a torturer was like how the boss told me then perhaps I could do it after all. I ended up convincing myself that I could do it and took the role.
Looking back on it, that job was my calling. Because of it, I was looked after by Don Ramiro. And with time, I had left that world behind and strengthened my position as the boss's right-hand man in the cartel, but that is another story.
Since I'm no longer part of the cartel.
Don Ramiro's teachings had helped me get far in life even now, as well as having changed my name from Alex to Martinez.
As I looked back on those nostalgic memories, I stuck a scalpel into the man sitting in front of me. I cut into his skin, making blood pour out of his wound.
"I'm begging you, stop. Please……!"
'Stop, please.' The man begged with ragged breath. His limbs were bound, making him immobile. He looked pathetic.
But regardless, I continued my work. I easily carved into his unresilient skin. The man – in his mid-twenties – twisted around in an attempt of resistance.
"I don't know anything. I mean it. I don't know."
'Please, you gotta believe me. I'm begging you.' The man repeated those words over and over again, his face contorting in pain all the while.
Unfortunately for him, I was not so softhearted to believe the nonsense this stranger was sputtering out.
I came over to Japan from Mexico for certain reasons in my twenties. But even after coming here, I had ended up living the same lifestyle. I caught the attention of a criminal group based in Fukuoka like the rootless man I was and became their torturer. Nothing had changed much by moving from Veracruz to Fukuoka. In the end, I turned to crime. I tortured people for money, and I broke the law in this city. I get tasked to torture anyone who opposes the organization and made anyone who may know some intel talk.
My job this time was doing both. According to my client, this man had ran off with the organization's money and hid it somewhere. All the members searched every nook and cranny in the apartment the man lived in, but they did not find the money. I was tasked to make him tell us where it was. It was the frequent and usual request.
"Come on now. You have no tolerance level, don't you?"
I continued my ministrations while cracking a cliched joke.
Make him live longer and longer. Without killing him.
Blood was pouring out from the man's many wounds all over his body. But his breathing was still strong. I made sure how deep to make the wounds to control the amount of blood loss after all. I did it so he could not easily die.
"The fun is just getting started."
I took out one of my large tools for show as I said that to him. When the man saw it, he shrieked in alarm and turned pale. I was able to tell from the man's eyes that he was questioning what I planned to use this tool for.
Fear was the greatest spice for torture. It was the most efficient way to damage them mentally. That was why it was important to show him it.
From that perspective, perhaps I was well suited for this work. I had an aggressive-looking visage and a well-built body. That and I was more than two meters tall. My arms and muscles had grown so much I look like I could tear apart a human being with my bare hands. I had the features to strike fear into people.
So when someone looking like me began to torture someone, most were afraid. It didn't matter how kind I was. I was gay and a sexual minority, and my sex drive was rather normal. But I didn't get off by hurting someone or had never felt any pleasure in doing so. I always prayed for these sessions to end as soon as possible. I would get the desire to cut off their head or stab them through the heart in order to release them from their pain.
I guess looking at it this way, I was a gentleman-like torturer. As such, I had never yelled at anyone to hurry up and just tell me. I whispered to them sweetly instead.
"……Hey, how about I let you go?"
The man suddenly raised his head when I told him that with a change in tone and a serious expression. He looked at me with desperate eyes. "Wh what did you say?"
"I'll try to help you out since you talked to me in full honesty."
"You'll try?"
"I decided to kill you off. If I tell the guys over at the organization that I took care of the body, they won't look deeply into it. So then you just have to pretend to be dead."
One method to loosen the tongue was to establish a relationship of trust.
"Truth is, I don't want to do this either, okay?" I said seriously.
Well, I really was being honest there.
"There is no merit in killing you. I will reward you if you tell me where you put the money. You treasure your life more than money, right?"
"……You really will let me go?"
A light flickered in the man's eyes. I had firmly planted a seed of hope within him. "Yeah, I will. I'll let you go."
"I hope you're not just saying that to decei-"
"My objective is my reward for the job. I don't need anything more than the information you have. I don't want another crime under the all the things I did by killing you."
I looked the man in the eye and asked him, "so what will you do?" One of the ways to establish trust was to grant the other the right of choice.
After a few moments of silence, the man questioned in a voice almost like a whisper, "……You're sure you can do it?"
"There's nothing to worry about. This isn't the first time I did it."
I said that to reassure him, but I did not necessarily lie. There was only one time I let someone I tortured go in the past.
"It's alright. I can do it."
I then doubled down.
"In exchange though," I gave him a smirk and made a pleasant expression. "I'll charge you for it."
The man frowned in confusion for a moment but then immediately nodded. "……Yeah, okay. How much do you want?"
"Don't worry, I just want a tip. You can give me as much as your willing to. How much do you have on you right now?"
"I have 100,000 in my wallet."
"Alright, then give me half."
"……Okay."
Getting 50,000 was a huge help. It was a good trade. The man accepted the deal earnestly.
I gave a smile and pointed at the man with my chin. "Come on now; it's your turn to talk."
The man began speaking as I had prompted him to.
"I couldn't help it……I had debt……"
He slumped forward and explained in a defensive tone.
"I lost to a gamble, so I borrowed money. I got an illegal loan through Genkai Financing. I was threatened by the guys there that if I didn't pay them back right away, they'd kill me……That's why I didn't have a……"
I sighed. "I don't care about that. So? Where is the money you stole?"
"The money is hidden in a rental space. It's along route 3 in Hakozaki."
Route 3. So it would be there. I had the general idea of where it was at. I had seen that place before.
However, to open the door, I would need a key.
"Where's the key?"
"It's in my room. It's in the shampoo container in the bathroom."
"Alright. Wait a moment. I'm going to get you out of here soon."
Having gotten the information I needed to hear from him, I made a call with a smirk.
"Hello? It's me."
'Did you get him to tell you?'
A hoarse voice replied back. The man who answered the call was my current boss.
"Yeah," I affirmed and told him. "He said the money was in a rental space. And the key to the door was in the shampoo bottle in the bathroom at his house."
'He hid that there? No wonder we couldn't find it.'
"I left him alive just in case we still need him."
'I'll contact you later,' the boss said to me. 'If we find the money, we'll no longer need him. Torture him and kill him then.'
"Okay. I'll take care of the body." I dropped the call. I then addressed the other man. "I was told to kill you once they found the money."
"……Can you really do it?" The man was uncertain.
"You can count on me."
I then began attending to the man's wounds. I wrapped bandages around his injuries to stop the bleeding.
"Here, drink this."
The man grimaced when I put a white pill in his mouth. He must be assuming it was poison.
"Relax, it's just a sleeping pill. You need to rest a little and recover your strength. You're being affected by blood loss too."
I tilted the plastic bottle upward and let the liquid pour down the man's throat. After the man had swallowed the drug, he told me, "thank you. You're a rather nice guy."
"Don't mention it. More importantly, you need to think about what you should do after this."
After this, the man muttered. He seemed to have recalled something as he made a wry smile. "……I have to apologize to her."
"Her?" I asked him in a friendly manner suitable for small talk. "So you got a girlfriend or something?"
"Yeah, something like that."
The man smiled. He seemed to have completely forgiven me for what I had done to him. Though that was to be expected, as from his perspective I was his accomplice.
"I had plans to go see a baseball game with her next weekend. I got tickets for an interleague game."
"……Baseball, huh."
"But I never imagined I'd get into this mess……I guess I won't be able to go after this."
'I have to get away. From them. I need to get out of this city as fast as possible.' The man muttered those to himself deliriously. It seemed the drug had taken effect.
"……Ah damn, I'm tired."
"Good night," I told him in a gentle voice like laying a child down to sleep. "When you wake up, you'll be free."
'Yeah,' the man whispered. He had a relieved expression. I told myself in my mind that this would do as the man shut his eyes.
The man had slipped away into a deep sleep.
I received a call from my boss thirty minutes later.
'We found the money.'
They seemed to have recovered their stolen money without a hitch. That meant the information the man gave me was correct.
The boss then said in a low voice. 'Kill him.'
Hurt him, make him suffer, and make him regret what he did. That was the anger I perceived from his tone.
"Okay." After I replied with that in a small voice, I dropped the call.
Making the man take a sleeping drug was a kindness on my part. It was so that he wouldn't suffer or have any fear and just pass on peacefully.
I stood in front of the slumbering man and pulled out a handgun from my pocket. I then pointed it at the man's lopsided head.
Have good dreams, I whispered and pulled the trigger, sending the man into an eternal slumber.
I didn't lie to you.
You're free now.
The boss seemed pleased with my work. He gave me 5% from the money they recovered as payment for a good job done. I used that money to leisurely hang out in shot bars or British pubs every evening until my next job. I didn't get anyone who wanted someone tortured frequently. I would always get a job about once a month or so. As such, I just laid back and waited until I got a call from the boss.
However, I unexpectedly got a call without much downtime from the last job.
'I have another job for you.'
The boss's voice from the other end of the call sounded troubled. He should've been satisfied for now after recovering the money, but apparently another issue arose.
I've never gotten two jobs in a week before. I felt an odd uneasiness at the unusual situation. But I could not give a 'no' to the boss's orders.
"Who is it this time?"
'I don't really know.'
The boss was vague.
"……Ha?"
'He's apparently some hacker, but we don't know who he is.'
"A hacker?"
That was an alien being. I had no idea what kind of person that was.
'He was looking into us.' The boss said in annoyance. 'Make him say what his objective was, who tasked him to do this, and how much he knows. Everything.'
I followed the boss's orders and headed to the usual work area. It was a room in the basement of an apartment building in Haruyoshi. This small floor which looked like an empty tennant was used for the organization's warehouse as well as my work area.
He was there.
The hacker in question was bound to a chair on one side of the dimly lit room, his head hung listlessly.
I grabbed his hair and pulled his head up.
"……You're kidding me. You're just a kid," I unintentionally muttered.
The captive was a child. The boy had black mushroom styled bob, pale skin, and a frail and glum looking slim figure. He must have been beaten up by the others in the organization when he was captured as I could see bruises and cuts all over his body. There was a cut at the edge of his mouth and blood covered his lips.
His sanpaku eyes were closely examining me from under his long bangs. He had a menacing and unendearing expression.
"How old are you?"
I asked. It was not an inquisition, just a regular question.
I wanted to confirm it for the record. People of Japanese descent tend to look younger than their actual age. I thought maybe he just looked like a child while he was actually an adult. However –
"Sixteen."
I held my head hearing his response. So he was a kid. This was going to be tough.
Besides that, why would a sixteen year-old kid be digging into the organization? Why did some secluded kid who does nothing but play on his computer get captured? What kind of fire was he playing with to end up like this? Countless questions came to mind.
"You sure are stupid. You poked your nose into matters that don't involve you, so now you're here." I shrugged as I said that.
I was paid beforehand this time, unlike the other times. A briefcase was left in a corner of the room. I checked the number of bills inside the case. It was an excessive amount.
I then brought it over to a pipe chair set up against the wall and sat down, facing the boy's side.
"What's your name?"
"Don't know."
The boy gave a smile and cocked his head at my question.
……What does he mean by 'I don't know?' What a cocky punk.
"Then what should I call you? I don't even care if it's a fake name."
"Does it really matter whether you know the name of the person you're going to torture or not?" The kid smiled. He said it in an ironic manner.
"That's just how I do things."
"Uh-huh. It's like you're playing the negotiator."
Internally, I was stunned at his mature response.
What's up with this kid? How could he remain so calm despite being a child? There's no way he was an idiot who didn't know what was going to happen to him.
Is he not afraid of me? Afraid of torture?
"Isn't it just an ulterior motive of yours? You can get close to me by calling me by my name in an attempt for me to open up, right? That's a common trick."
I clicked my tongue.
"……You're not a cute kid."
He was half-right. As he said, I did have that intention. But that was not my only reason either. By getting to know someone and calling them by their name, I can become nicer. I could torture him with love.
"Okay, I got it. I'm fine with it if you don't want to tell me."
When I said that, the boy stated something strange.
"It's not like I don't want to tell you my name. I'd like to give you my name, but I can't. I don't have a name. I lost it."
I saw it as he was either telling the truth or saying something odd to dodge the topic. "Is that so?" That was all I said in reply.
He grinned. "So how about you give me one?"
"Wh?"
"A nickname for me. Whatever comes to mind."
What in the world is he suddenly saying?
My eyes widened in surprise. What a strange kid. ……Well, he wouldn't have been caught if he wasn't.
I felt a bit peeved to do as he asked, but I decided to indulge in this children's game.
"A nickname, huh……"
What would be good for him?
I crossed my arms and titled my head in thought.
After a few seconds,
"……Mushroom."
I looked at his black hair and said that in a murmur.
"Since your hair looks like a mushroom."
When I supplied him my reason why, he laughed, "that's so simplistic. You have a mediocre naming sense."
"Shut it," I said, sullen. "It's just a nickname. It doesn't matter what it is."
"Then I'll call you baldy."
"Hey, cut it out."
I yelled.
I couldn't let that go. I pointed to my shaved head and rebuked. "I'm not bald; it's shaved."
"Come on now," he smirked. "It's just a nickname. It doesn't matter what it is."
"Don't call me that again."
"So? What will you start off with?" He ignored what I said and changed the topic. "Will you pull out my nails? Or cut off my ears?"
Just who is this kid?
He kept surprising me, one thing after the other. He was a peculiar kid. I couldn't predict what he would retort with or what he was planning. He was calm and collected, and he looked like he was enjoying this situation.
Is he not afraid of torture?
"I won't do any of those. I'm nice."
"You're strange. How interesting."
I don't want to be called that by you, I held back from saying that.
"You must be fed up with being beaten up already, right?"
Looking at this kid's battered up state, I knew he had been repeatedly beaten by the others in the organization. And with me being so kind, I couldn't bring myself to torture this child, who was just messing around.
So I decided to use drugs. I put the syringe into his arm and injected the truth serum into his vein. This would help loosen his tongue.
"I won't use any rough methods, but I won't hold back. This is a strong drug, so prepare yourself."
I told him as I stuck the syringe in his thin arm.
After waiting for a bit, I could see a change in his expression. His eyes took a hazy and hollow look. The drug had taken effect.
I decided to start the interrogation.
"You don't go to school?"
"If I did, I wouldn't be here tied up, right?"
I guess that's true.
"And got any parents around?"
I was curious what his parents' reactions would be for letting a child like this loose.
The boy was silent for a moment.
"Who knows," he said and pouted. "I don't know what they're up to."
It looked like he had a problem with his family. He probably turned to crime because of it.
"Are you on bad terms with your family?"
"Bad terms?"
He laughed at my words.
"It isn't so cute as that. ……He tried to kill me. So I fled to this city."
Someone tried to kill him?
I frowned at the insane comment he made. "What do you mean?"
"My dad is someone in an important position. He was this big shot."
He snickered.
"So he put me through education to become his heir."
"Oh? You were a rich person's kid?"
"More or less," he nodded. "He hired a bunch of tutors and forced me through studies. I had to learn a lot of things. Saturdays I would have language, manners, and piano lessons. I never had time to play with other kids my age."
He started to talk more, probably due to the drugs.
"……What I really wanted to do was not piano or studies. I wanted to play baseball."
Baseball.
I unintentionally grimaced when he mentioned that term.
The boy in front of me kept talking with a blank expression. "I was jealous. Of the other kids playing in the park after class with the ball and bats they had and all. I really wanted to play baseball. But I wasn't allowed to. I never played catch with my father or even gone to see a game."
"……It's not that special to have played baseball." I said in self-ridicule.
At that moment –
"Huh."
A dubious shine lit in his hollow eyes.
"Is that so?"
Feeling his gaze look towards me as though searching for something, I tutted. I ended up saying something unnecessary. I realized what his aim was, regretting it.
"……You're chatting away on purpose, aren't you?"
I was convinced in the effectiveness of the drug when he answered my questions on his personal history. But that was likely his objective. He made me loosen up by intentionally talking about himself at length. He made me think the truth serum was working on him and gain the advantage over me.
That was not his only objective. The truth serum was actually affecting him, so what he did was talk about anything that he did not mind me knowing to avoid talking about the information he didn't want me to know, gaining control of the flow of information he was providing me. He didn't fight against the effects of the drugs; instead he used the effects to his advantage. It was a physical feat that the average mental prowess couldn't handle.
……This kid isn't any ordinary person.
I couldn't let him buy more time. The longer he talked, the effects of the truth serum would lessen. I asked the pressing question. "Who were you hired by?"
"How about you listen to what I have to say before that?"
I stated in a low voice when the kid tried to dodge the question. "As if. I'm not wasting more time on this. Hurry up and answer my question."
"That's why I'm asking you to hear me out. You want to know what kind of information I possess, right?"
"……What?"
I was shocked. That was what the boss had told me for sure. However-
"Then I'll tell you it."
He intends to carry on the conversation on his own? What is he planning?
I frowned in confusion.
"Let's talk about a certain group," he initiated the topic again.
"They are a foreign group of thieves operating in Fukuoka. They primarily do cat burglaries in general residential homes, offices, or store fronts. There are six members, most of which are Asian. They don't just steal for the money. They also steal works of art, antiques and gold bars. Two of the members are Chinese. For the others, there is a Korean, Vietnamese, and black person each. One was just killed the other day. I assume he had a dispute over payment. The group's boss is Japanese and his name is Suetsugu."
Wait. You're kidding me.
I swallowed.
The information he spoke of was the very organization I belonged to.
"Their methods to carry out tasks became more extreme. They were no longer weary when it came to killing people, and they decided to target other guys in the same underground business as them, aiming for their money."
Even though he was supposed to be under the influence of the drug, the tone of his voice was steady. Before I had realized it, I was invested in what he had to say.
"But the people in the underground were cautious. They hid their fortunes in a safe location. No one would confess on its location no matter how much they were threatened to do so. It was a difficult task to get the password for the safe, the credit card PIN, and the location of the key to the warehouse."
What he said next made my eyes widen in shock.
"So Suetsugu hired a professional. A skilled torturer. His name was Jose Martinez. No. His name was Alejandro Rodrigez."
Me.
"……Why do you know my name?"
I couldn't believe it. No one in this country should know my real name.
"I looked into your history before you came to this country. When I did, I saw you listed in the Dominican baseball academy's records. You were trying to get into the major league, right? Then if you don't mind, teach me how to play baseball sometime."
I tutted, feeling a foreign impatience well up within me. "Shut up."
"I won't. I'm just getting started."
He proudly went on.
"Suetsugu is a coward through and through. And that's why he's overly precautious. He doesn't want to endanger his position if any information on him is leaked out, so he doesn't trust anyone but his own people. That's the kind of man he is. On that note, the torturer he hired before you had disappeared half a year ago. He was killed. You know the reason right? It was because he knew too much of Suetsugu and his team's secrets. He had gotten too much information on him."
And then his sanpaku eyes narrowed.
"So in your near future, you have the high possibility of meeting the same fate."
It was an unbelievable revelation.
"……Ha, you're impressive." I forcibly smiled. "You're quite a terrific guy despite being a mere kid. You can prattle on so well regardless of your current situation."
I didn't want to admit that he had turned the tables on me. Why was I having such a hard time with a kid like him? Just hurry up and finish the job. That was what I kept telling myself.
"That's a good story you made up on the spot in your desperate state."
"My information isn't wrong. Shouldn't you hurry up and get away? Just like Suetsugu and his gang."
Like Suetsugu and his gang?
"……What do you mean?"
He made another peculiar proclamation. "If you don't, then they'll be here soon."
"They?"
"The police. Pah-leece."
And now the mention of a dangerous group appeared in the conversation. My eyes widened. "What are you trying to get out of this?"
"I'm telling the truth."
"Cut it with the bluffs."
"You don't believe in the effect of the truth serum you used on me?"
I held my tongue as he grinned up at me.
"The police already have their sights on the band of thieves. Do you know of that incident that happened in Ropponmatsu not too long ago? A man forced his way into a bar, stabbed the employees, stole from them and took off with the money. That was a job Suetsugu had his subordinate do. There was one person who survived the ordeal. He gave in his testimony that the culprit was a foreigner. And Suetsugu and his men are aware of that. So they've prepared a scapegoat."
"……What are you getting at?"
"You haven't realized it yet? You look like a foreigner." He smirked.
"And the stolen goods Suetsugu and his gang took left them in this warehouse. Furthermore, the money they stole from the bar in Ropponmatsu is in that attache case over there."
……Ahh, that's what this is about?
"Dammit!" I yelled. "That shitty bastard!"
So in short, I was set up.
Suetsugu's face came to my mind. He was trying to frame me for a false crime? He must be planning on fleeing to another country while the police chase after me.
As if I will allow myself to get caught. I'm a kind-hearted torturer. I'd rather not be arrested in place of a cowardly group of thieves.
I need to get out of here immediately.
"Ah, hey, wait a sec." When I went to put away the torturing tools into my bag and gather my belongings, I heard his dull voice from behind me. "If you can, I'd like to be released from these ropes. And I want to go to the hospital."
The kid was still bound.
I had no further business with him, and it would be a problem just having him remain here. He saw my face after all. It was out of my way, but I cut the rope with a butterfly knife and let him go.
The kid got up from the chair languidly. I warned him, "you should give up being a hacker."
"Why?"
"No matter how many lives you got, you'll run out of them eventually."
"I suppose so."
"You should learn a bit from this experience."
I turned away from him and lifted a hand up in gesture.
"See you."
I would likely never see him again. I picked up my bags and rushed out of the room.
In the morning, it was reported on the local news program that the band of thieves were all arrested. The police were on the lookout for any foreigners trying to leave the country, stationing personnel at airports and harbors. They seized all the evidence on them; the stolen goods and large sum of money unmoved in their hideout. It's their fault they tried to use someone else as a decoy. Serves them right. Their arrests made me feel great.
That day, I wandered around the city of Fukuoka aimlessly as per usual. I felt good that Suetsugu and his men were arrested, but I lost my employers, making me unemployed again. I seemed to be repeating the same things over again, even in Japan.
All I had left was the wallet I stole from the man I tortured and killed. I had about ten 10,000 yen bills and the pair of baseball tickets he had planned to use to go see a game with his lover. It was an NPB night game for today, but it wasn't like I had wanted to go. I've stayed away from baseball for quite some time now. Although I had spent my childhood invested in baseball, aiming to get into the major league, now I couldn't bring myself to play the sport or even watch the broadcasts on TV.
I would never be invested in baseball again. At least, that's what I thought.
After I couldn't stay in Mexico, I chose to flee to this land because I dabbled learning a little bit of Japanese in the past.
When I was in the major baseball team academy, I saw countless of monsters. They were all part of the same generation as me, but I fell short to them in both physical ability and perception. I couldn't keep up with them no matter how hard I tried; they were a league of their own, having been gifted with talents from the beginning of their lives.
It was a common aspiration for a baseball-loving boy in the Dominican Republic to want to get rich quick by joining the major league team in order to support his poor family. And when I got into the academy with my own ability, I devoted myself to baseball to fulfill that common dream. However, put against the monsters in the academy, my American dream was shattered to pieces. The academy had boys left and right who were able to throw more impressive balls than me, run faster than me, and hit a ball farther than me. I couldn't compete with them on equal footing. I would never have gotten anyone to call me to join their baseball team or even 3A, let alone the major league. That realization hit me hard.
So I decided to try and aim for the Japanese professional league instead of America's. While everyone else in the academy was studying English, I tackled writing hiragana and katakana. But my goal veered off, and my ambitions for baseball diminished day by day. And when I began to learn illegal means to save money instead of baseball, I dropped out of the academy and before I knew it I was knee deep into the underground as part of the Mexican drug cartel. And after I left that organization, I had fled to Japan.
'You should learn a bit from this experience.'
I recalled what I told the mushroom-haired kid from the other day. Although I assume he had taken a lesson that day, I did too.
It was similar to baseball. A foreign helper was bound to be used as a discardable pawn to an organization. I was partially tired of constantly living in this underground world all alone in a far off, foreign country, unable to trust anyone or open myself up to anyone. This could be my tidal hour. That thought passed through my mind.
Ironically enough, the Japanese I committed myself to studying back then was now being put to use. Maybe I could try interpretation work? Or maybe be a Spanish teacher? Actually, relearning the structure of the body to become a chiropractor wasn't a bad idea. I slipped out a smile while imagining myself doing an upstanding job.
I walked around the city whilst thinking over the question without an answer. I had unlimited time to think about it since I was unemployed. I had no money or job. I only had time. What should I do to kill time today? I only had that thought on my mind. If I played baseball like I did back then, the time would fly in no time at all.
At some point, I had arrived at Kego Park. When I sat down at the corner and was watching the passerby absentmindedly, I spotted a familiar face among the crowd.
It was that kid hacker from then.
"Ah, hey, you!"
I unintentionally yelled in a loud voice. The people around the area turned around to look at me, wondering what had happened.
The kid in question stopped walking and saw me.
"……Hm?" He seemed to have recognized me as he pointed at me and stated, "ah, baldy."
"Stop calling me that."
I glared as I approached him.
Nonetheless, I did not expect to ever see him again. It was a surprise.
But that was not the only thing I was surprised to see.
"And actually……what's with that getup?"
I was shocked to see what he looked like now.
The kid changed into someone completely new. His hair style was the same, but the original color to the hair was gone; it was now blond, closer to white more than anything. The hue of his pure yellow parka and bright red pants were more venomous looking than last time.
"What do you think? Does it look good on me?" He smiled cheerfully. "Isn't it cool?"
He wore gaudy clothes and had gaudy hair. All of it was shocking. I thought the kid would try to live a modest and quiet life after the event, but I didn't expect him to waltz around the heart of Fukuoka in an even more outlandish outfit.
He clearly did not learn anything out of his experience. I was exasperated.
"Come on now," I sighed. "Can't you be even a little bit more careful? You have no idea who would be after you."
And now he's got a head that looks like an enoki mushroom. I shrugged.
"Ah, that sounds good." I said and smirked. "From now on, I'm going to call you that."
"Wh?"
"From today onward I'm going to call you enoki mushroom."
"Wha? What the heck's that?"
Enoki mushroom, he whispered and frowned. "……It's too long. Besides, it's hard to say."
"Then Enokida will have to do."
It doesn't really matter how you're called. I ignored him and changed the topic.
"So hey, who were you hired by in the end?"
I still never knew that one essential point.
"You're still curious about that?"
"Of course I would be. ……It wasn't the police, was it?"
The simple answer I could think of was that. This kid was put to the task to find the band of thieves. And the police had captured them not long after.
So was it the police that had hired him? Or did he just leak the information on the thieves to the police? Either way would explain how he would know the police's activities.
I didn't expect this kid to be working with the police, but I couldn't cross off a hacker doing so.
"Who knows," he smiled ambiguously.
No, then perhaps-
I then recorrected my train of thought.
What if there was never a client to begin with?
That was how I felt about the situation. It all could have been for his own entertainment. He could have just as must been invested in a game of taking down a criminal organization with the information he had on them.
This was mere speculation on my part, but this kid had to have manipulated everything from behind the scenes.
He first dug into the band of thieves out of pure curiosity and purposefully got captured. He then let Suetsugu and his men know the police was onto them to intimidate them, allowing me to escape the ordeal alive. He must have leaked the information to the police already by that time. Then it was just a matter of time before they were arrested.
And he used a bluff to get out of my hold. I instantly believed the lie that the police were already going to infiltrate, despite the fact they were chasing down Suetsugu. It was probably due to the belief I would be betrayed by him someday that I let that lie get to me.
Everything happened according to this kid's plan.
And why he would do something so out of the way for him was beyond me. It could be he was simply at the age where he wanted the taste of a thrill, or it was because of his reckless personality that just had him want to test out his abilities. Even if I asked him, I probably wouldn't understand. This kid was crazy.
But what was more troubling than that was that I was saved by this crazed kid.
The news reported that all the thieves were captured. In other words, I wasn't included as part of their group.
"You didn't sell me out."
He knew everything: that I was correlated with the band of thieves and worked as a torturer. And yet he did not leak the information on me to the police.
"Why?"
When I asked him for the reason, he smirked and answered with, "who knows. I wonder why. Maybe I wanted to make you owe me something."
"Owe you? Why?"
"I told you back then to teach me how to play baseball, remember?"
Baseball.
That reminded me. He had stated during his interrogation:
'You were trying to get into the major league, right? Then if you don't mind, teach me how to play baseball sometime.'
I thought it was just him making a dumb joke, but he was serious?
"I wanted to try playing baseball someday, but it's hard for an inexperienced amateur to get into a team, right? So I figured I could have someone teach me how to play. I'm glad a helper came by."
He had mentioned that he really wanted to play baseball. He was envious of the other students his age who played at the park with a ball and bats after lecture. He had never even played catch with his father or had seen a game. He had spoke of that earlier.
The various details he had prattled on about with a brazen smile were probably sincere, spurred on by the influence of the truth serum.
He really likes baseball this much?
"……Are you serious right now?" My eyes widened. "You seriously want me to teach you?"
"If you don't want to, you can. But I don't know what will happen to you if you do."
"Come on now, don't threaten me."
I smiled bitterly in exasperation. This kid is a weasel.
But he was right. I had a debt to pay him. I couldn't turn him down. ……Well, if he wanted my abilities, then I don't feel too bad about it.
I was suddenly struck with an idea. Perhaps everything that happened went according to this hacker's plan. Maybe he had set up the sequence of events in order for me to become his baseball instructor.
Imagining the possibilities to myself, I laughed. If by chance that was true, then this kid was both simultaneously a genius and a huge idiot.
"Then you better say, 'please teach me, coach.'"
"I'm not good at bowing my head to people."
"Can someone like you even play baseball then? Don't overlook team play."
That said, I didn't expect I would be dragged back into baseball like this. Is God all-seeing? Aware of what I truly desire? It was laughable.
"Hey, Enokida."
"What?"
He cocked his head at me.
"Are you free now?"
I asked him.
"I am. Why?"
"Let's go see a game."
First I should have him watch a professional game for study, so that way he wouldn't make light of the sport.
"I have two tickets. It's a night game for today. It's a match with the Dragons."
"I'll go," Enokida immediately replied, smiling.
That was the one moment when he made a truly innocent, child-like face as expected for his age.
Translation Notes:Sanpaku eyes refer to eyes where the white space (the sclera) is visible below the iris.
Enoki Mushroom is called enokidake (榎茸) in Japanese. So Martinez just dropped the last syllable to make Enokida (榎田).