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One of the perks of the way he used to live as a hitman— without a home, without distractions, without friends— was that no one ever questioned how Lin did things. All that mattered was that he eliminate his target— his boss couldn’t care less if he wore a skirt while he did it. Personal investments were irrelevant unless they interfered with the job.
“Lin-kun, could you repeat that? You want me to do what for you?”
Lin closes his eyes and inhales slowly— in through the nose and out the mouth, repeat three times, just like Saito had taught him. It does nothing to help how hot his face feels, but when he opens his eyes again, he feels a little less like punching Enokida’s snickering face.
“Like I said, I’ll pay you,” Lin says stiffly. Nevermind that he’d already handed Enokida the envelope of cash as soon as he’d found him, tucked away in the darkest, dampest corner of the internet cafe. The place smells like stale oil, which will probably stick to Lin’s clothes after he leaves. Enokida had appeared uninterested in the payment as he listened to Lin’s request, amusement on his face growing with each word.
It’s a bad idea to come to Enokida for help with personal matters, Lin knows. But, as with most of the decisions he’s made since the night he met Banba Zenji, Lin finds himself doing it anyway.
“You poor thing,” there’s a playful lilt to Enokida’s voice as he leans forward in his seat. “You know, if you really wanted to find out what Banba-san—”
“I’ll pay you extra not to talk,” Lin growls. “I don’t want your commentary.” He’d been prepared for Enokida to ask what he wanted the information for. The fact that he hasn’t means he already knows. Lin isn’t sure what’s worse— having his motives questioned or being read like an open book. Neither should be problems, but everyone in Hakata happens to be so goddamned nosy.
Enokida looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “There are some things money can’t buy, Lin-kun. Of course, I’ll get the job done proper as long as you pay me, but there’s a much easier way to find out—”
“Forget it,” Lin snaps. “If you’re not going to shut it, I’ll ask someone else.” This conversation needs to end now, before Lin does something he regrets. Enokida doesn’t resist as Lin snatches the envelope from his hands and turns, storming out of the cafe and onto the street. He needs a milkshake. And to go back to the apartment and throw these clothes in the wash before Banba gets back. And to find someone else for the job.
Except that Enokida is the best hacker in Hakata, and the only one he knows. Lin frowns, tucking stray strands of hair behind his ear as he considers his options moodily. He’s weighing the merits of paying Jiro a visit when his phone rings in his bag. A glance at the caller ID tells him it’s Banba.
Lin takes a moment to clear his head, pretend he hadn’t just five minutes ago attempted to commission Enokida to help him snoop into Banba’s personal affairs. He raises the phone to his ear. “What?”
“What?” Banba sounds affronted. “Here I am, taking the trouble to check up on you… cold as ever, Lin-chan. Aren’t you going to ask how my day went?”
Lin snorts. “It’s three in the afternoon. I’m going to hang up on you.” He isn’t, but threats tend to move a conversation with Banba along more effectively.
Banba takes the bait. “Practice is cancelled tomorrow,” he informs Lin breezily. “Don’t be too disappointed, because we’ll be meeting for dinner instead. It’s Saeki sensei’s birthday, so we’re going for barbeque. Make sure your evening is free.”
“Why would I be—” Lin cuts himself off with a sigh. “Sure, got it. You didn’t have to call me, you know. You could have texted. Or told me later.”
“But then I wouldn’t get to hear your voice,” Banba says, which is probably code for I prefer to tell you things so that you can’t ignore me, but also can’t hit me. Or something. “Oh, and we’re out of milk,” Banba adds. “Drinking it by the carton won’t make you grow taller, you know. Could you get some on your way back?”
“Get it yourself,” Lin scowls. “I know you’re not at the apartment. I can hear the cages.”
“You don’t need to grow taller, anyway,” Banba continues, as if Lin hadn’t said anything. “You’re a good height now. Perfect for resting your head on my shoulder after drinking too much. Hey, will I be getting a repeat performance of that tomo—”
Lin ends the call abruptly, face burning. Fuck. As if Banba’s teasing isn’t bad enough, he says everything with a straight face, voice devoid of any unusual inflection, so Lin can never tell what he’s thinking. It had only been once that Lin had gotten drunk, at a celebratory dinner after winning a neighbourhood match. The whole team had been there. Lin remembers very little about that night besides how good Banba had smelled, how comfortable he had been pressed up against his side—
Get a grip, Lin thinks, seriously.
If Enokida isn’t going to help him, he might be better off giving up and never knowing what Banba wants from him. Or he could try talking to Banba, and if the outcome is unfavourable, change his name again and leave town. Or he could take an aggressive approach like in dramas, shoving Banba up against the nearest wall and—
With a noise of frustration, Lin tosses his phone back into his bag, thinking resolutely of nothing as he makes a detour to the convenience store to get milk.
The first time Lin notices, really notices, is in the changing room after baseball practice. It’s the hottest week of the year and his hair is plastered to his face with sweat; it feels gross, but at least he’d played decently enough not to get yelled at today. Lin turns around to inform Banba that he’ll be using the bath first when they get back to the apartment, at the very same moment that Banba decides to pull off his shirt.
He doesn’t know why he’s taken aback by the sight of Banba’s bare chest. Banba walks around without a shirt on in the apartment after he showers every night, but it’s not as if Lin makes a point of staring. Maybe it’s the weather, sweat dripping down Banba’s lean form and accentuating the curves of his muscles. Maybe the humidity is messing with Lin’s brain.
He swallows hard. You don’t earn the title of Niwaka Samurai by sitting around all day eating mentaiko and not working out obsessively, which happens to be exactly what Banba seems to do. It doesn’t help that he dresses like a hobo most days, his favourite baggy sweater concealing how nicely built he is. Lin makes a mental note to dispose of the sweater, then abruptly backtracks, because— what the fuck?
Banba’s eyebrow is raised. “Something I can help you with, Lin-chan?”
Lin whips back around, hoping nothing in his expression gives him away. “Nothing,” he manages. “Just... wanted you to know the bath is mine when we get back.”
“Oh?” Banba hums. Lin can’t tell if it’s an amused sound or disappointed one. After a moment, Banba says, “Why not share?”
Lin blanches at the thought of sharing a bath with Banba. Aside from being embarrassing as hell, it would mean Banba naked, in close proximity, with his well-defined pectorals at arm’s length. And that in itself isn’t as terrifying as the knowledge that Lin might do something stupid like try to touch, and then he’d have to drown himself.
“Yeah right,” Lin snaps once he’s recovered from the shock, turning to level a glare at him. Banba offers a wordless smile and shrug. He’s messing with you, Lin reminds himself darkly, he doesn’t mean any of it.
He still can’t read Banba after months of knowing him, which pisses him off. Lin manages to shake that thought in the days that follow, but the image of Banba’s shirtless body sits uncomfortably at the back of his mind, surfacing in his dreams. At first, they’re just of Banba walking around the apartment in various states of undress— his boxers, a towel, or even his Yamakasa getup. Then they get bolder, involving Lin having to work with an unusually indecent Niwaka Samurai to make a kill, or trying to throw to first base with his already-poor aim without getting distracted.
A month after the changing room incident, Lin is taking a shower when he hears the shower door open behind him, and someone steps in.
It’s Banba, obviously. There’s no else in the apartment for it to be. But knowing that doesn’t prepare Lin for the feeling of bare skin against his back, warm from the steady spray of hot water from above. Lin finds himself frozen in place, thick steam choking him. Any words he might have had die in his throat as Banba reaches forward and rests his hands on Lin’s hips. Slowly, the hands travel lower, lower, dangerously low. Banba angles his head, lips hovering millimeters from Lin’s ear.
“Need a hand, Lin-chan?” he whispers, and Lin jolts awake on the couch with a shout, drenched in sweat and shaking hard. It’s a problem in more ways than one, the more pressing of which comes in the form of heat pooled between his legs, and Lin realises at last how thoroughly screwed he is.
Lin figures that if he doesn’t sit next to Banba at dinner, he can’t do anything to embarrass himself, even if he ends up getting tipsy. They’re greeted by the sound of loud voices and raucous laughter at the door of the restaurant, Misaki waving them over to the table as Jiro and Maru pore over a menu together. Next to them, Saito is already red in the face.
Lin makes for the empty seat next to Yamato, but somehow ends up getting jostled into the seat next to Banba anyway.
“Sensei,” Banba calls, waving across the table at Saeki, who’s wedged comfortably between Jiro and Shigematsu, sake glass in hand. “How does it feel to be old?”
Lin tunes out their conversation in favour of studying the dessert menu. Eventually, the meat arrives and drinks are passed around, celebration in full swing. Most of the conversation over dinner, predictably, revolves around baseball. Lin tries to listen in on Jiro asking Saeki for tips on how to look young, jumping slightly when he feels the sudden weight of Banba’s arm around his shoulder.
“Oi,” Lin attempts to shrug him off. “You’re drunk. Don’t get too comfortable.”
“I’m not drunk,” Banba protests. “I only had a few—” he stops mid-sentence, distracted by Maru and Saito’s discussion on the upcoming nationals and just as quickly drawn into an argument over which teams will make it past qualifiers. Lin rolls his eyes.
“They’re really into it, huh?” Enokida says from directly across the table, lazily flipping meat on the grill. He raises his eyes to look at Lin, then lowers his voice, as if anyone will be able to hear them over the noise. “How’s it going? You know. With Banba-san.”
Lin glowers at him, reaching for the sake.
“Going to drink away your sorrows?” Enokida asks, raising his glass, as if in a mock toast. “Pity you can’t drink too much. How many shots did it take last time, three?”
Lin scowls. “You’re one to talk. You’ve had two drinks today.”
“Better than your one.”
“I can drink if I want to,” Lin says. “More than you, at least.”
Enokida grins. “Want to test that theory?”
An unascertained number of shots later, the room tilts precariously as Lin reaches for his next glass. He misses, fingers closing over the air just beside it, but at least he’s doing better than Enokida, who appears to be face down on the wooden tabletop. At least, Lin thinks it’s Enokida. He doesn’t remember Enokida’s hair being so… wavy.
“Lin-chan,” comes Banba’s voice from somewhere. It’s a nice voice, deep and calming. A good voice. The kind of voice that makes people want to listen to you. Forever.
“Lin-chan,” Banba repeats. “You’ve had way too much to drink.”
“Banba,” Lin says seriously. “Give me your voice.”
He doesn’t remember what else he says. He vaguely recalls trying to climb into Banba’s lap, giving up when coordinating his limbs proves too difficult and settling instead for leaning against him. Lin rests his head on Banba’s shoulder, content to just enjoy the warmth of his body, and closes his eyes.
He opens his eyes to the sight of Banba’s apartment ceiling, and a hangover that makes him regret waking up at all. It feels like the inside of his head is a batting cage, every movement sending loud clanging through his skull. Slowly, Lin reaches for his phone on the table.
“What did I do last night?” Lin croaks as soon as Enokida picks up.
“Hell if I know,” Enokida croaks back, sounding as terrible as Lin feels. It’s enough to lift Lin’s spirits, if only temporarily. “I wasn’t exactly conscious. Yamato filled me in, though.” There’s a pause, as if Enokida is thinking about how best to word his next statement. “I’ll give it to you straight,” he mumbles. “Apparently, you told Banba you think he’s the sexiest man alive and want him to bend you over the table and— ow,” he stops abruptly, and Lin can practically hear him wince. “Right. No long sentences. This headache blows.”
Lin barely hears the last part, too caught up with what had come before. His head is still pounding, but now dread spreads through him as well, heavy and cold. Too late, Lin remembers exactly why he had promised himself not to get inebriated in Banba’s presence a second time.
This is something retail therapy won’t fix. Lin has no choice. His only option now is to assassinate Banba.
“Oh, geez,” Enokida mutters after a moment, breaking the silence. “You were supposed to deny that. Then I would tell you it was a lie. You didn’t actually say any of that. But evidently— ah, well. Awkward.”
Lin’s heart races as he processes Enokida’s words. “I’m going to kill you,” he spits into the phone, but the effect is dampened by the shared knowledge that Lin probably wouldn’t be able to rise and walk to the door if he tried.
“Please do,” Enokida says. “I’m never drinking again.”
Lin takes a deep breath to calm himself down, wondering why he ever considered getting rid of Banba when the true enemy is Enokida. He hopes Enokida’s headache persists to torment him, and tells him as much before hanging up. Putting his phone aside, Lin closes his eyes and resigns himself to a day of lying motionless on the couch. Maybe if he emulates a corpse well enough, the pain will leave him alone.
Sometime later, he hears the click of the front door opening.
“You’re awake,” Banba says brightly. “Are you hungry?”
“No,” Lin answers. Not a lie, since he can’t feel his stomach.
“Really?” he hears the sound of Banba taking off his shoes, laying his bat case by the door. “Well, I’m starving, so two tonkotsu ramen it is.”
They eat in silence, side by side on the couch. It’s a struggle just to sit upright without feeling like he’ll be sick, or like his head will crack in two, or both; when Lin is done with his food, he lets his head loll forward, hair falling over his face.
As expected, Banba gives no indication that he expects an explanation for whatever it was Lin did last night, nor that last night had happened at all. What he does do is scoot right up to where Lin is feeling miserable, hair a mess and blanket wrapped loosely around his waist, and glance pointedly down at his own shoulder.
Lin only hesitates a moment before leaning his head gingerly on Banba’s shoulder. It’s not something he’s ever done while sober, and it feels weirdly intimate. Banba is as warm as he remembers, and lying here against him feels like he’s anchoring himself. To what exactly, Lin isn’t sure. He exhales, letting his eyes fall shut. “Don’t get the wrong idea,” he finds himself mumbling, “I just—”
Just what? Can’t find the energy to move? Wish it were always this easy?
“Want my voice,” Banba finishes for him. Lin snorts, then winces as the movement sends a fresh jolt of pain through his skull. He glares up at Banba through his hair.
“I hate you,” he says, but it sounds half-hearted even to his own ears.
“You love me,” Banba says, and the scary thing is that he’s not entirely wrong.
There are pros and cons to playing the role of ‘Noriko-san’, the supposed secretary Lin had once impersonated to meet a Kakyuu associate, and whose name had stuck. Lin recalls that first operation as he clutches Banba’s arm, trying to walk in his extra high heels without tripping over the hem of his long red evening gown.
The man at the door nods at them, gesturing towards the VIP entrance behind him.
On one hand, being disguised grants Lin access to places he would never be able to go ordinarily, letting him in on the action and allowing him to watch Banba’s back. Depending on their plan, Banba sometimes buys him nice clothes for the role, which is always a plus.
“I’m going to talk to the target,” Banba says in a low voice. “Just wait for me here.”
On the other hand, the skirts are usually tighter than Lin is used to, restricting his movement. He also has to play the part convincingly— reserved and obedient work best to minimise speaking and eye contact, and then it’s just a matter of doing whatever Banba asks. No glaring, no talking back, no stabbing any men whose eyes linger too long on his ass. At least not until he receives the signal.
“Hey,” a man in a well-tailored suit with an emerald tie sidles up to where Lin is standing, glass of wine in hand. It had taken only two minutes, less than half the time Lin had hoped to remain undisturbed. “Who did you come with?”
The VIP party is full of guests mingling, the area crowded with over twenty people. Lin glances over to the far end of the room, where Banba is engaged in conversation with a distinguished-looking man with a moustache.
“Shinohara Shunichi,” Lin answers in Noriko’s voice, pitched higher than his usual. He smiles as demurely as he can manage, fingers twitching only slightly behind his back. “Head financial consultant from JTL. And you are?”
Tonight’s operation is going well, all things considered. Thanks to the information provided by Enokida, Banba has successfully impersonated a business associate of the man they’re after. Jiro had called in a favour, requesting that Banba get some information from him. Blackmail, extortion, and corrupt business practices are among the list of crimes committed by practically every person in the room, so even if things turn ugly, it’ll be no loss.
The man Lin is talking to has been lowering his gaze gradually; it now rests hungrily on Lin’s chest. Idiot, Lin thinks. There’s nothing there to look at.
“Mitsunaga Takashi,” the man answers finally. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”
Lin hasn’t. He almost tells him this, but their conversation is cut short by a piercing shriek and the sound of gunshots across the room. Around them, the party descends into chaos, people screaming and stumbling for the exit. Amidst the commotion, Lin takes a step towards Mitsunaga Takashi and feels a hand on him where it definitely shouldn’t be.
“Motherfucker,” Lin mutters, reaching for his knife.
Two minutes is all it takes for the room to more or less empty out. Lin and Banba are the only ones left standing in the aftermath, several bodies littered around them. “Time to go,” Banba calls from the other end of the room.
“Did you get what you needed?” Lin calls back, wiping his knife off on a nearby tablecloth and resheathing it. He doesn’t know what went down with Banba and the target, but he does know that the man who had groped him won’t be groping anything anytime soon.
“Sure did,” Banba makes his way over, pulling on his tie to loosen it. “I didn’t expect that many of them to be armed. You alright?”
“Could be worse,” Lin answers, taking a step forward and tripping on the hem of his dress.
It feels like he falls in slow motion. His ridiculously high heels wobble for a moment before he tips over, arms coming up to brace himself for the impact. Banba must move at the speed of light, because instead of hitting the ground, Lin finds himself caught safely in his arms, staring up at Banba’s face and thinking, this is just like that episode of the drama I watched last week.
“Noriko-san,” Banba says softly. “You look exceptionally beautiful tonight.”
Lin swallows. Banba has him in a dip, neither of them making the move to right themselves. His face is close, close enough for Lin to see how brown his eyes are, and Lin averts his gaze, eyes settling instead on Banba’s tie.
If he were to reach out, just like in the drama, and pull Banba downwards—
Noriko-san, Banba had said.
Something in Lin’s chest tightens, and he pulls himself together. Banba starts as Lin pushes him off, releasing his grip on Banba’s arm only once he’s regained his balance and is sure he’s not going to fall again. He avoids looking at Banba the entire time.
“What, don’t I at least get a thank you?”
This is the problem, and always had been. Whatever Lin feels for Banba doesn’t matter, because Banba can save him and support him and tease him, and that’s just the way he is. Lin doesn’t know what Banba really wants, and he’s not sure he ever will.
“Noriko is supposed to be a secretary,” Lin mutters. “Not an escort.”
“Lin-chan?”
“Forget it,” Lin snaps, suddenly feeling very tired. “I’m not your— I’m not a girl.”
Banba’s eyes widen at the outburst, but that’s all Lin sees before turning on his heel and heading for the back exit. He almost trips as he goes, stopping to kick off his heels and instead carry them with him. The gentle night breeze is cool and soothing against his face. Banba doesn’t come after him.
It isn’t difficult to find somewhere quiet, a deserted spot under the awning of a nearby building. Lin crouches there and wills the ache in his chest to go away, sick of doubting himself and sick of having feelings.
Lin never tells anyone, but the night Harada Yusuke had pointed a gun at him in his high-rise apartment in Momochihama, Lin had hoped he would pull the trigger. He had wanted to die. Learning that he would never see Qiaomei again after going through hell to stay alive for her had destroyed whatever was left of him. The flame of hope giving him a reason to live had been extinguished.
But here he is now, with a five year mentaiko debt. Banba had given him a single reason to live, and over time the reignited flame burned brighter, fueled by more than just a flimsy obligation. In Hakata, Lin had found a home. A family.
A family that was obsessed with baseball, but a family nonetheless.
It’s Saturday and they’re running drills, gearing up for the match lined up for the following weekend. Lin raises his gloved hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he stands wait near the second base line, some hold-up occuring at home plate while Saito and Shigematsu discuss strategy. Somewhere to the vicinity of his right, Saeki yawns.
People like us don’t get to die pleasant deaths, Enokida had said. It’s fine to enjoy being pampered while you can.
Lin glances over to the area between first and second, where Banba is surveying the field, hands on his hips. Since the night Lin had snapped at him, conversations with him had been few and far in between. He hasn’t been avoiding Banba, not exactly, but there’s a tension between them that hadn’t been there before, and they both know it.
Lin lowers his gaze. What is he so afraid of? That he’ll lose Banba like he did Qiaomei, Feilan, everyone he ever cared about? Needing people makes him feel vulnerable, but the reality is that Lin had always been strongest with someone to fight for, or with. Banba had proven time and time again that he wasn’t going anywhere. Lin is strong now, too.
“Lin-chan, look out!”
Lin raises his head, questioning, and sees the ball too late, heading right for him in a high arc. He feels it connect with his face— hard, but not hard enough to cause permanent damage— and a burst of pain explodes behind his eyes. The next thing he knows, he’s looking at a seemingly endless expanse of blue sky.
“Lin!” Yamato’s voice. Lin hadn’t heard the hit, hadn’t realised the play had started. His head doesn’t hurt too much, but his thoughts are jumbled.
“He’ll be fine,” Saeki calls, sounding nonetheless alarmed. “It wasn’t a fast one, he’s probably just dazed.”
“Did you see him staring at Banba-san?” Enokida’s voice. “Talk about distracted.”
“Banba-san?” A confused voice. Saito’s. “What about him?”
“Nevermind. This is the second time you almost killed someone with your pitch, by the way.”
Another set of voices becomes audible over the sound of Saito’s frantic protests.
“Banba-chan,” Jiro sounds worried. “You’ll have to carry him, you’re strong enough.” Even through his hazy consciousness, Lin knows Jiro is strong enough to carry him. Jiro possesses enough strength in his fist to knock a grown man out cold.
“Time out,” Maru suggests. “Let’s get him to the shade.”
“Lin-chan.” At last, Banba appears in Lin’s field of vision. Lin blinks at him. “You really need to be more careful.” He sounds both exasperated and fond. Carefully, Banba scoops him up in his arms and carries him towards the sidelines.
What does a hitman need? You need it in baseball, too.
The answer is simple: someone to place your trust in. He might not have realised it before, but what Lin once thought was a pipe dream is well within reach now.
“You feeling alright?” Banba asks, and Lin has a strange feeling that it’s not the first time he’s hearing the question. He nods anyway, and it’s the truth, because lying there, face up on the baseball field, Lin had come to a decision.
On Monday, Lin pays a visit to the internet cafe.
“I’ve been expecting you,” Enokida says, swivelling around in his chair to face Lin. He pauses. “Wait, you’re not Banba-san. What are you doing here?”
“The job I asked you about last time,” Lin says. “Could you do it?”
“The one where you wanted a list of every video Banba-san has streamed in the last few months?” Enokida looks thoughtful. “You’ll get a whole load of baseball reruns, but let me guess. You’re more interested in the videos that will tell you— ah, how should I put it. Which way Banba-san swings.”
Lin feels the flush rise on his cheeks, but there’s no point in denying it. His pride is unlikely to escape this trip unscathed— he’d come prepared to accept the consequences. He nods.
“Well,” Enokida says. “I happened to look into it after you left that day. Just out of curiosity, and all. And you know what I found?”
Lin shakes his head, breath caught in his throat.
“Bunnies,” Enokida says, an almost maniacal glint in his eye. “Sexy bunny girl gets a treat. Playboy bunny orgy. Best adult bunny cosplay: a compilation. Lin-kun, you know what to do.”
Lin stares at him. “You’re fucking with me,” he says weakly. “Right?”
Enokida grins, leaning back in his chair. “Of course. Were you really prepared to— okay, okay,” he raises his hands in a gesture of surrender as Lin reaches for the knife concealed under his skirt, the grin never leaving his face. “Like I was trying to tell you the last time, there’s an easier way than looking through videos. Want to know if you have a chance with Banba-san? Why not ask someone who knows?” At this, he looks up at Lin expectantly.
This conversation is moving too fast for Lin to keep up. The stress is really doing a number on him. “You… know?”
Enokida scoffs. “Everyone knows. Except you and Banba-san, evidently.”
“You… what?” Lin blinks, not comprehending. “Since when?”
“Since the day Banba-san came in here and asked me for a list of every drama you’ve watched in the last few months. Don’t look so surprised, he didn’t even pay me to keep my mouth shut.” Enokida leans in, lowering his voice as if divulging a secret. “But if I were to be truthful… since forever. Banba-san is so in love with you, Lin-kun, it’s actually kind of gross to watch.”
Lin tries to make sense of this information as Enokida sits back and waits patiently, seemingly content to observe. “Funny that a detective wasn’t able to figure it out, huh? He seems to have a pretty hard time when it comes to… matters of the heart.” Enokida jerks a thumb towards his chest, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth.
Lin opens his mouth to respond, then closes it again.
“It’s a lot to take in,” Enokida reassures him. “Take your time.”
Lin tries again. “Uh… thanks,” he says, simply because Enokida appears to have just handed him information that would have, under normal circumstances, relieved Lin’s bank account of several hundred thousand yen.
Enokida shrugs. “You’re both idiots. But hey, Banba-san’s was an easy job, so I’m not complaining. Plus, I got to watch all this unfold from the very front row.”
Lin frowns at that, but quickly catches on to why Enokida might have been willing to help him without charge. There’s only one thing Enokida values more than money— entertainment.
“Banba doesn’t know, does he?”
The look on Enokida’s face is one of satisfaction. “You bet he doesn’t. I did his job for him, but that’s all I did. Didn’t tell him about your request, or anything like that. So he’s probably out there wondering why you haven’t yet succumbed to his charms.”
Lin nods, fingers moving thoughtlessly down to smoothen his skirt. It’s been a long few weeks to get here, but he thinks he’s finally ready to put an end to this game of tag. Straightening, Lin steels his resolve.
“Then I guess I’ll have to tell him.”
For as long as he’d cast aside his humanity and started killing people for a living, subtlety had never been one of Lin’s strong suits. He’s much better at confrontation.
“Banba,” Lin yells the second he gets back to the apartment. “I heard you paid Enokida to spy on me.”
It’s the exact same thing Lin had tried to pay Enokita to do to Banba as well, arguably on a more invasive level, but Banba doesn’t know that yet.
“Ah,” comes Banba’s voice from the direction of the bedroom. He emerges seconds later in his usual baggy sweater and black pants. “I forgot to pay him extra to keep his mouth shut.”
Lin crosses his arms and waits for an explanation.
Silence. Banba’s expression, to Lin’s annoyance, remains unreadable. Lin is beginning to think Banba is going to ignore him altogether and retreat back into his room when Banba lets out a sigh, shoulders slumping a little.
“I’ve known Enokida-kun longer than you have,” he laments. “Why is he siding with you over me?”
Lin has no response to that. Enokida, Lin is sure, harbours no special affection for him, apart from Lin being probably the easiest person on their team to rile up.
“It’s because you’re cute,” Banba continues, as if to console himself. “No one can resist.”
Lin frowns. Banba has told him specifically, on multiple occasions, that he’s not cute. As always, Lin isn’t sure how much of what comes out of Banba’s mouth he can believe.
“What,” Banba says, seeming to notice the expression on Lin’s face. “You didn’t know I think you’re cute?”
“Shut up,” Lin mutters, vexed by how casual Banba is being about this whole thing. “I… I can’t tell when you’re being serious.”
“I’m always being serious.” Banba spreads his arms. “Well, except for when I tell you you’re not cute. And when I tell Saito he’ll succeed in life as long as he puts his mind to it. I’m really not sure about that one.”
“I don’t get you,” Lin huffs. His face feels warm. He hopes it isn’t red.
Banba offers a smile. “Five years is plenty of time to learn, wouldn’t you say?”
Something about the way he says it leaves Lin breathless. It sounds like a promise. If this were a drama, it wouldn’t matter that Lin is at a loss for words, because he would march right up to Banba and kiss him. Now that Banba is familiar with what Lin watches, it would work even better— Banba would know exactly how to interpret it. No explanation needed.
The problem is that Lin doesn’t have the guts, let alone any idea how to kiss someone. He looks at the floor, deciding to go the honest route and say what he had come here to say.
“So,” Lin begins carefully. “It turns out I tried to ask Enokida to do the same to you.”
Banba looks surprised. “You asked him to find out what I watch? I don’t watch any dramas, though.”
“Not those,” Lin closes his eyes. “Other kinds of videos.”
This time, there’s an extended silence. Lin keeps his eyes shut, trying to convince himself that it’s not that embarrassing a confession. The next thing he knows, Banba is grabbing his hands, and Lin opens his eyes, startled by the proximity.
“Lin-chan,” Banba’s eyes are bright. “You watched all those matches? If you were trying to learn how to field an unassisted triple play, I’m all yours—”
“No!” Lin’s face is definitely red now, but not from embarrassment. “You moron, that’s not what I was talking about.”
Banba releases Lin’s hands with a laugh. “Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t help it.” His expression sobers as Lin bristles, filing the term unassisted triple play away in his mind for future reference and hating himself for it. “I didn’t know,” Banba says.
“Now you know,” Lin grumbles. He hesitates before adding, “Listen, Banba, if you want me to spell it out for you…”
“I’m a detective,” Banba lays a hand on his shoulder. “I think I can fill in the blanks.”
Lin allows himself to breathe for what feels like the first time since this conversation had started. In front of him, Banba’s usually laid-back demeanor has been taken over by a look of curiosity.
“You said you tried to ask Enokida-kun for the favour? You didn’t succeed?”
“I gave up part-way,” Lin sighs. “He was making fun of me.”
Banba nods in agreement. “He’s been enjoying himself way too much. Still, if you went as far as to ask him…” Banba grins. “You must like me a lot, Lin-chan.”
“I don’t,” Lin says automatically, as Banba takes a step closer. “I mean, I might. A little.”
“A little? Well, if that’s the case—”
Banba leans in, and Lin makes an embarrassing noise as Banba kisses him. His lips are warm, body maneuvering them so that Lin’s back is pressed up against the wall next to Banba’s door. Lin panics. Watching people kiss on a screen doesn’t prepare you for doing it in real life— he parts his lips unintentionally, and Banba’s tongue— oh. Lin has no idea what he’s supposed to do. It’s wet, and he doesn’t know where his tongue should go, and—
Banba pulls back. “That,” he says, aghast, “is not how you kiss.”
Lin feels his face heat up. “Do you think they taught us how to kiss at killer school?” he snaps, not liking how defensive it comes out. It isn’t helped by the fact that he’s clutching Banba’s arm hard enough to bruise, just in case his legs decide to give out. “They did teach us how to disembowel a man six different ways, which I can demonstrate right now if you—”
“Relax,” Banba says, sliding a hand up Lin’s thigh, and that shuts Lin up pretty quickly. The material of his skirt bunches as Banba runs a thumb over the edge of Lin’s boxers, and Banba leans in close.
“Just like baseball, right?” he says. “Practice makes perfect.”
“Again with the baseball,” Lin groans, but at least when Banba kisses him a second time, he can’t see Lin’s smile.