[Short-S] Koda

Koda

She never forgot the silence that she heard walking through the maze of alleys and streets of the slums of Rio de Janeiro. The sound of her own slow footsteps was the only thing that she could hear. The grey slum buildings were lit faintly by a few remaining street lights. Pure darkness enveloped the narrow alleys.
The tropical night was warm, so Koda opened the thin coat that she was wearing. Nevertheless she was still hot and sweaty underneath. When she was planning in her small motel room she considered not wearing it at all. But it neatly concealed the knife at her waist, and, more importantly, the gun holstered to the back of her shoulder.
Time and time again she took a small note out of her pocket and looked at it. It had an address that was hastily scribbled on by one of the locals. Koda had already memorised the note, but her nerves were jittery and she was too scared of forgetting it. She couldn’t afford to forget it.
Not now. Not when I’m so close.
Occasionally there was a noise from around her. She would tense up, poised to fight anyone that tried to attack her. But it was usually a just cat or a dog or something. Still, she never took any chances.
She would murder him. She would murder the racist that killed her husband two years ago. A wonderful holiday in the west of Ireland ended in his death. All because he was Japanese. Koda became a widow at 23 years old. The Irish fled to Brazil to escape his country’s justice. Koda returned to Japan and began to plan. She dyed and cut her hair, gave up smoking and became fitter and stronger.
Tracing the Irish was to be a tough challenge, but Koda charmed, seduced, bullied and flattered people for the information that she sought. A drug dealer gave her the address that Koda was going to now. He wanted someone clean to deliver a sample of cocaine to him. She was up for the job.
And he’s going to be there she thought to herself. I will find him and I will kill him.
She whispered the note out load to herself, and for a minute she took her mind off her treacherous surroundings.
Suddenly someone rushed out from the shadows at her. He crashed into Koda and knocked her to the ground. Before she could breathe he was on top of her, pinning her arms and puling her coat open. Koda was surprised but not weakened. She felt the guy trying to take her shirt off her body and she slammed her forehead into his face. He yelped with pain and let go of one of her arms. Koda didn’t hesitate to pull the knife out from her waist and jam it into the guy’s body.
He gasped, and choked, unable to speak. Blood ran down the handle onto Koda’s fingers but she held firm. He coughed violently and took a long, ragged draw of breath before his body gently weakened and sank down onto the ground.
Koda laid there, feeling sick at what she had done. She was prepared to avenge her husband, but this was the first time that she had to kill an innocent person. Was she really willing to do this to achieve her goal?
Yes I am.
The nausea diminished, and Koda shakily stood up, pulling the knife with a sickly slurping sound out of the corpse. Then she noticed that his blood was on her hand. It was still warm. She shuddered before wiping it and her knife clean again off the guy’s clothes.
And she replaced the knife back into its sheath at her waist and continued on.
The deeper Koda walked into the slums the darker it became. Fewer and fewer street lights were working now and she had to squint through the darkness to see ahead. Her body tensed; if she was attacked here, it would take her completely by surprise. Her hand strayed back to the grip of her knife...
And she turned a corner and then she saw a building with lights on inside. A filthy, rotten tenement building that had fallen into bad disrepair. Bricks were chipped, windows were cracked and rubbish was piled around the drains. Koda checked the tainted metal plate beside the door. It matched the address that the drug dealer gave her. Koda prayed for her heart to keep still, she could almost hear it beating.
“Shh...” she cooed as she gently pushed the door. It was unlocked. She carefully opened it fully and walked inside.
The light was dim but sufficient to light the corridor that Koda was in. Softly she walked down it, passing the numerous small flats, listening intently for anything that might be a danger to her. The floorboards creaked underneath her. The wallpaper was a stained yellow colour. The doors were made of thin dark brown wood. A fetid stench came from some of the apartments.
Koda continued on until she came to room 33.
Here.
She felt the door with her hands and gently put her ear up to it. Inside she could hear some people talking and there was music from a stereo. Koda bit her lip. She had arrived here at around 2:30 am, she simply assumed that he would have been asleep and could have just killed him with a knife in the dark. But she still had a plan and her handgun.
Koda breathed deeply and braced herself. When she used her handgun all hell would break loose throughout the building. She would have to kill him and disappear as quickly as possible.
She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Inside someone whispered, “Shh,” and the music was turned down. A man in his late twenties opened the door. He was big with muscles bulging from under his shirt. He looked like he could snap Koda in half.
Not him.
“Yeah?”
“I’m one of Ricardo’s girls,” Koda answered. Ricardo was the drug dealer that supplied them with the cocaine and Koda with the address.
“Prove it,” the man answered in his deep gruff voice. Koda reached into her pocket and produced a small bag of fine white powder. The man nodded, and he stood back to let Koda in.
Immediately Koda knew why he was there. Inside was full of boxes of all shapes and sizes, and with all different brand names on them, from alcohol to kids’ toys. There were another two men in the apartment, and they were carefully inspecting the contents of one of the boxes, filled with bags and bags of drugs.
Both of the men turned and looked at her.
Him!
Koda turned her sights to the white male sitting nearest to the door. He was the one that killed her husband two years ago. She had trained and waited and prayed for two years for this moment, and now she finally had it.
The man was eyeing her suspiciously. He knows, Koda thought. She would have to choose carefully the right moment to move.
“What’ve you got?” he asked her in his Irish drawl. Koda handed the small bag of cocaine to him, praying that his suspicions wouldn’t be aroused further. He handed the small bag to his accomplice and sat forward as the contents of the bag was being sniffed.
And suddenly-
“Naoki!” he snapped.
Koda gasped and raised a hand to her face. The name he had said was that of her dead husband.
Suddenly the Irish dashed past the muscleman and out the door. Koda tore out after him, ripping her gun out of its holster and squeezing the trigger. Shards of plaster few from the walls but Koda missed.
He ran out through the doors of the building and sprinted down a street. Koda chased after him, firing at him and screaming. Her nerves were on fire and her heart was pumping and her aim was inaccurate.
He sprinted faster and Koda was afraid that she would lose him in the maze of alleyways.
She chased him down another winding street, but he was getting further away from Koda. He was faster and stronger. Koda had no hope of catching him-
-and then he yelled with intense pain and collapsed to the ground, twitching and moaning. Koda jogged over to him, still wary of him like a hunter of a wounded animal.
He laid there gasping for breath. Koda stood over him and stared down into his pained face.
“Hiretsukan!” she swore and spat at him. “You murdered my husband two years ago in Ireland. And now I murder you.” She made sure that there were still a few bullets left in the gun before she calmly aimed it at his head.
“These bullets are for the two, long years of suffering that I’ve endured. All because of you.”
She couldn’t see properly, but his shirt at his right shoulder was glossy with liquid. The shot must have shattered the bone and come out through the other side. His right arm was limp, his left hand was still convulsing painfully. Koda paused. The night held its breath.
“Do you have any last words before I avenge Naoki?”
The Irish coughed and spluttered. Koda knew that he would die soon unless he was treated. He looked up into Koda’s unforgiving black eyes and said, “I’m sorry.”
Koda was stunned. He had murdered her husband in cold blood, but she never thought that he felt any remorse for his crime. Her black eyes softened. Did she really want to add another soul to the endless legions of the dead? Was she really able to do this?
And she caught sight of his left arm spasming and twitching. She felt the pity rise inside her, and then it disappeared again instantly. His hand was moving purposefully and intently. His fingers fell against a cracked brick that was lying on the ground. But he couldn’t get a good grip on it. His desperate fingers pulled and squeezed at it to try and hold it. If he managed to hit her with it-
“No you’re not,” Koda replied coldly as she pointed the gun over his heart and pulled the trigger. His body shook violently as she shot him again and again. The gun clicked empty and he laid lifelessly on the ground. Koda finally felt tranquil in her young, tired bones.
She threw the smoking gun down beside his body. As for the knife... she decided to keep the knife. She still might have a need for it. She glanced behind her to make sure that she wasn’t being followed, and then Koda turned and ran down a street, quickly disappearing in the engulfing darkness.

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