Kimura

  KIMURA

  A TALE OF A JAPANESE MURDERESS

  R.G. HONDA

  Copyright © 2021 by Red Eclipse Publications

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

  FIRST EDITION

  Table of Contents

  Prologue – Widow

  Part 1 – A New Trail

  Chapter 1 – The Festival

  Chapter 2 – Black Van

  Chapter 3 – Beach

  Chapter 4 – Mr Takamoto

  Chapter 5 – Outcome

  Chapter 6 – Decision

  Chapter 7 – Cats and Seagulls

  Chapter 8 – Crossing the Line

  Part 2 – The Restaurant

  Chapter 9 – Rain

  Chapter 10 – Inside the Restaurant

  Chapter 11 – Time to Move

  Part 3 – Out of Kobe

  Chapter 12 – Rainy streets

  Chapter 13 – Search in the multi-storey car park

  Chapter 14 – Warden

  Chapter 15 – Neon

  Chapter 16 – Burning Rubber

  Chapter 17 – The Cove

  Chapter 18 – The Drive

  Part 4 – Yamagata

  Chapter 19 – Sakata

  Chapter 20 – Into the Warehouse

  Chapter 21 – Down

  Chapter 22 – Incense

  Part 5 – Takamoto

  Chapter 23 – Basashi and Mirrors

  Chapter 24 – Old Friend

  Chapter 25 – Heroic Thoughts

  Part 6 – Yuki

  Chapter 26 – Unconscious

  Chapter 27 – Matsuda

  Chapter 28 – The Inn

  Part 7 – Reunion

  Chapter 29 – The Fish Bowl

  Chapter 30 – Sister

  Chapter 31 – The Abused and the Abuser

  Chapter 32 – The Document

  Chapter 33 – Empathy

  Chapter 34 – Pain

  Chapter 35 – Hope and No Hope

  Chapter 36 – Vain Rectangle of Light

  Chapter 37 – The Physician

  Chapter 38 – Bait

  Chapter 39 – A Rifle and a Pistol

  Chapter 40 – Monster

  Chapter 41 – Erase

  Prologue

  Widow

  Naoko looked down at the hands that she had just used to push her husband to his death. She noticed that this autumn evening, she had neglected to paint her nails.

  She stared down her marble staircase at the spot where her husband’s life had just been extinguished. She thought it strange that two, maybe even only one minute before, the warm lump below her had been animated, swinging its fists in foolish rage, rather than limp and seeping fresh blood from the wound where the left side of a face should have been.

  She tried to make sense of the image, but couldn’t. Confused, she glanced across the body again, noting the pool of blood that was gradually expanding from beneath seven years of marriage. The dying sun outside illuminated the puddle, the rays exposing a shy metal object peeking from the mass. Naoko descended the stairs.

  A few feet in front of the body, she slowed, coming to a stop by the rim of the pool. She reached down and plucked the silver object from her husband’s blood: it was his lighter. The trinket appeared beautiful with its right edge illuminated by the expiring light. She rotated the cool metal, barely noticing the first tremor of her fingers and the way her dead husband’s blood burrowed into the crevices of the single character etched into the case’s surface.

  Fire. The single kanji character glowered back at Naoko. She caught sight of her mirrored image in the lighter’s reflective surface. She blinked and turned away from her reflection, finally registering the full tremor of her fingers. All feeling of detachment deserted her. Suddenly she was back in the room. She looked down to regard her husband’s deformed spine and disfigured face. Her first words took the form of a hoarse whisper, incoherent. But it didn’t matter. She was the only one left listening.

  She had struck him. He had been shouting, his saliva spraying her face, and she had gouged a chunk from his face with his own lighter. She rolled her lip, stared, and then creased her brow as though she had just missed a vital snippet of conversation. He had slipped on the stairs in surprise, and then in panic she’d pushed him the rest of the way. He was dead. She felt light headed.

  The contents of her stomach sloshed through her parted lips before she could consider whether she should stop herself. Vomit blended with the blood still escaping Takanawa’s body in a muddy stream. Here it spurted again. And again. Once done, Naoko fell to her knees.

  It had been a stupid argument. She had wanted to hit him. And she had.

  Her palm slipped. It made a polite ‘splish’ as it and her forearm rowed through the mingling body fluids creeping across the polished floor. She had gone too far this time. She had actually killed him.

  Naoko screamed, even though no sound seemed to reach her ears, finally grasping what she had done. She wrenched her buckling legs upright, staining her exposed knees and skirt with an extra garnish of blood. Her second cry was audible, the regret flooding in.

  She knew she had a propensity for violence, but never had she intended to strike fatally.

  Her brain, engulfed by adrenaline, squeezed out an expletive: before all this, she had plans. She was going to meet Akari the next day at Kobe’s Matsuyama tribute festival. She had a train to catch that evening.

  Ten minutes later, Naoko flung open the front door of the home she had shared with her husband for the last seven years and stumbled out onto the peaceful suburban street. She registered the sweet-smelling curry carried over by the breeze from Mrs Ohba’s house and then the static buzz of a nearby radio.

  She lifted the rucksack clutched in her relentlessly shaking hand onto her shoulder. It contained only the bare essentials: a change of clothes, fifty thousand yen from the house, and her phone.

  She glanced down, her head still spinning, amazed to find the lighter still gripped in her left hand.

  Unwilling to step back into that house, she dropped it silently into the warm pocket of her travel coat. It wouldn’t enter her mind again for the next eighteen hours. She looked down the length of the street. The sun plunged toward the horizon. Leaving her front door ajar, with blood still smothering her bare knees, she forced her legs to begin the walk to the train station.

  A crow shrieked from a high branch above. She didn’t register it.

  Part 1

  A New Trail

  Chapter 1

  The Festival

  The sweltering heat and exuberant chatter that rose from the stalls filled the scenic port street with an uncommon liveliness. Hints of citrus wafted along the cool night breeze, the vibrant stalls lining the narrow path offered a seemingly endless array of orange-flavoured desserts and beverages.

  Naoko gazed about herself, mesmerised. Colourful lanterns hung from the roofs of the stalls, throwing pools of amber light onto the paths which snaked through the bustling festival. The lanterns also cast long, flickering shadows on the ground, silhouetting the shapes of magnificently dressed townspeople, both young and old, who had flocked to join the local celebrations.

  After stepping off the train earlier that afternoon, a visit to the small Matsuyama tribute event was the last thing on her mind. But now, surrounded by the colourful lights and traditional outfits, she was glad she had an excuse to immerse herself in the festivities.

  Scouting around a tall man in a fabulous blue yukata, Naoko glimpsed into the sea of heads before her. She spotted a lone stall at the far end of the sea, a path temporarily cleared between the swarms of festival-goers in its direction. She kept a firm hold on the rucksack squeezed over her shoulder, not willing to lose it over mere carelessness. Inhaling the young evening air, she dove into the thick of the crowd.

  She quickly found sheer animosity was next to useless in the herd. Hauled along with the other bodies, she was forced to keep moving with the strong current. She walked unsteadily, reaching out for some non-existent leverage as she was led deeper into the dizzying labyrinth. The hectic market lights flashed by. The numerous scents that had initially allured her seemed sickening now in the crush of bodies.

  Giving in to the urge to just find a seat, Naoko side-stepped into a gap that had briefly manifested on her right. She burst from the edge of the crowd and stumbled towards the first wooden stool she spotted, uncaring of whether the stall sold food or costume jewellery.

  The owner of the lonesome stall welcomed her enthusiastically, ushering her into the third of the three chairs set closest to the bar.

  Collapsing into the seat, she doubled over onto the counter and exhaled a sigh of relief. She gave herself five seconds of this bliss and then raised her head to regard the sign situated above the stall. She sighed again and furrowed her eyebrows.

  A liquor stall.

  Any other time she would have been overjoyed at the prospect, but right now her mind was already spinning enough with the maelstrom of the past twenty- four hours. Taking another composing breath, she drew her eyes over the simplistic plaque on the stall’s reed wall before turning back to the expectant man, glad he at least sold snacks.

  ‘Some yakitori skewers and an Iyokan Highball, if you would?’

  The cheery stall owner nodded profusely, rabbiting about the quality of the orchard he’d sou
rced the oranges from, before ambling to the back of the sizeable stall to collect a bottle containing the famous Matsuyama beverage.

  ‘Never thought I’d see you drinking Highballs again— - sure takes me back.’

  Startled, Naoko snapped to her left to find the stool next but one occupied. She watched the brown-haired woman cock an eyebrow at her stunned expression, the beginnings of a smile already playing at her softening eyes. ‘I didn’t think I’d find you so quickly, though when you said we’d find something to eat at the festival, I didn’t realise this was what you had in mind,’ she added.

  Naoko glanced down at the empty cup Akari had crushed flat and back up at her condescending expression. ‘Am I being chided by someone who spends the last of their worldly fortune on a drink?’

  ‘No. Just complimented.’ Akari replied, her cheeks quivering as she fought to not break character.

  Naoko sucked at her front teeth in an attempt to curb her own inflating smile. ‘Typical bar owner.’

  ‘One complaint, though.’

  Naoko’s unfocused gaze skittered between the empty cup and the grinning face of the woman she called her closest friend. She turned to face the stall owner’s back from where he was bustling about searching for a paper tray.

  ‘Make that two.’

  Chapter 2

  Black Van

  Naoko turned her attention away from a particularly beautiful leaf-printed kimono and back to her fingers where they lay fiddling on the bamboo reed countertop. She folded the paper tray, still smeared with tare sauce, in half for the seventh time. Lightly trailing the spine of the paper wad, she slid her fingertips back across the section she’d just folded in a single sharp movement. Midway through considering her next move, the voice to her left perked up.

  ‘Another round of yakitori skewers and two more Highballs, if you would?’

  Naoko glanced to her left, unable to prevent the condescending look that flickered across her features.

  Akari shot an equally severe look back, sitting back down in her seat from where she’d leant over the bar to call the stall owner.

  Naoko increased her pressure on the paper’s spine. ‘I wasn’t judging,’ she lied, ‘just making sure you were aware that that 500 yen in your pocket won’t quite cover the bill.’

  ‘That’s what you’re here for,’ Akari said cheerily.

  ‘I suspected as much,’ Naoko said, a hint of a smile creeping into her voice as she returned her gaze to the paper tray. She knew she wouldn’t be able to fold the sheet any further. Nonetheless, she tried and willingly failed for the fifth time. Without even so much as an eyebrow twitch, she unfolded the tray again, careful not to add any unnecessary crease as she admitted defeat once more. She sighed and threw the tray on the countertop, tilting her head to the heavens.

  The fog had mostly cleared, the stars already dotting the evening sky making a gorgeous accompaniment to the rind of moon that languished just above Kobe’s wide port.

  ‘Do you mind?’

  Naoko turned her head and regarded the fresh Marlboro Red sitting between the middle and forefinger of Akari’s left hand. She swept her gaze over the woman’s familiar alcohol-reddened face. Her eyes held a similar shade of near-black as her own. However, their curve was more Korean in appearance. Akari raised a questioning brow, to which Naoko shook her head, winning an earnest smile from the woman as she immediately began to rummage inside her leather jacket to produce a Tokai lighter.

  Despite her usual disdain for Akari’s smoking, Naoko considered that as there was already so much smoke rising from the yakitori grill, and if they were going to stay for another drink, a little more couldn’t do more harm to her already reddened eyes. She turned from the grill and noticed Akari’s initial smile slipping to a look of puzzlement.

  ‘Seriously?’ she exclaimed, her annoyance quickly growing as she rose to pat the pockets of her black jeans.

  ‘Did you lose something?’ Naoko asked, aware of what the problem was and silently grateful. A glance through her peripheral revealed the stall’s grill spuming out far greater plumes of smoke than it had on the first round of skewers.

  ‘Yeah. It’s my lighter,’ she said, scowling in eventual defeat and falling heavily back onto her stool. ‘I left it on that thieving twat Takagi’s boat. There’s no getting it back now.’

  Akari sighed dispiritedly, the unlit cigarette hanging limply from her mouth.

  Despite her disapproval of the practice, Naoko did sympathise with the disappointment furrowed across Akari’s features. She was reminded of the dejected look on her neighbour’s dog’s face when he was confined to their back garden for the night as punishment. She tightly squeezed the lighter she’d been steadily gripping, unseen, inside the pocket of her travel coat.

  Coming to the inevitable decision, she clasped her fingers around it and pulled it from her pocket. She could feel Akari’s eyes on her again as she cast the metal into the light, studying the way her husband’s lighter looked in her pale hand. The kanji etched on its surface glowed red in the projected flames of the grill. She could still see his blood caked in the indentations.

  She thumbed the flint wheel, a stab of surprise hitting her when a deep orange flame flickered to life. Naoko curiously watched the way the cerulean blue at the base of the flame merged seamlessly with the deeper orange throughout. Perhaps she had expected the object to cease in function the same night its owner did. Funny.

  Silently, she leant towards Akari and brought the dancing flame towards the cigarette tip that protruded from her mouth. Akari leaned forward and gratefully accepted the unexpected light, closely watching Naoko’s oddly ritualistic movements. The tip remained cold for a moment before the naked flame ignited the grey paper.

  Akari leaned back on the small wooden stool and closed her eyes, inhaling the smoke deeply. Naoko watched her as she exhaled with satisfaction, thin wisps of smoke rising from her parted lips.

  ‘Thanks, I needed that.’

  Naoko upturned the corners of her mouth in acknowledgement. It wasn’t a smile. ‘It’s fine. My husband probably still hasn’t noticed it’s missing yet anyway.’

  She turned from Akari before the woman had a chance to cast her a glare of judgement. Instead, she shifted her attention to the untouched whiskey on the countertop before her.

  ‘I’m sorry about what happened,’ Akari said, ‘but perhaps, divorce is the best thing for you both.’

  ‘It’s fine. In some ways, now I have an excuse to be out of that house for once, I feel better. Forget him. I’m sure right now he’s going over the tax returns not thinking about me or last night’s row at all. Besides, that’s not what we’re here to discuss.’

  The grill sizzled higher, causing the amicable man to quickly plop their drinks down on the counter and rush to lower its heat. Naoko watched the slight undulations in her cup, the guilt inside her building as softly as the scent of citrus rising from the golden liquor.

  ‘Do you really think it’s Yuki this time?’ she finally asked.

  Akari nodded. ‘Positive.’

  The man set a fresh tray of skewers down between their two cups. The aroma of the freshly grilled meat attracted a nervous young couple over to the solitary stand. Naoko opted to pay him his cut of the mere 1700 yen remaining in her coat pocket later as he darted off to greet them. She regretted not picking up more before she left the house last night. But at the time, she just couldn’t go back inside that house. It wasn’t the first time she’d hurt him. In the heat of an argument, she couldn’t help the violence when it came.

  ‘Did he call the police this time?’ Akari asked, ignoring the tray and taking a sip from her fresh cup.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Naoko replied, returning her attention to Akari, ‘There was an officer conducting routine checks when I switched trains in Fukuoka, but he didn’t give me any trouble.’

  Akari set her cup on the counter and locked her fingers around it. ‘You know you can’t keep doing this, Nao. First with Yuki, and then him. You need to get help.’

  Naoko looked up from where she had picked a hole through the reeds of the countertop. ‘Do you really think it’s that simple?’’