The Night of Baba Yaga (eBook)

Kill Bill meets Thelma and Louise in this gripping Japanese cult thriller

Akira Otani (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2024 | 1. Auflage
208 Seiten
Faber & Faber (Verlag)
978-0-571-39108-0 (ISBN)

Infos

*A Telegraph Thriller of the Year* 'The epitome of the female-led revenge thriller.' CRIME FICTION LOVER 'Enraging, funny and exciting.' THE TIMES 'A fantastically brutal gore fest, this was WILD! If you're looking for a book with Kill Bill and John Wick vibes then look no further, this was a short read but hell, it packed a PUNCH.' @thespookybookclub Fierce, mixed-race fighter Shindo has been kidnapped by the yakuza. After brutally beating most of them in an attempt to escape, she is forced to work as a bodyguard to protect the gang boss's sheltered daughter Shoko, a strange, friendless eighteen-year-old who could order Shindo's death in a moment. At first Shindo derides Shoko's naïvete, but as the men around them grow ever more bloodthirsty and controlling, she becomes ferociously devoted to her charge. However, she knows that if things continue as they are, neither woman can expect to survive much longer. But could there ever be a different life for two people like them? READERS LOVE THE NIGHT OF BABA YAGA: 'So, so immersive with moments of real tenderness in amidst all the violence and gore. [...] Highly recommend.' @manareadsbooks 'There are some books that as you're reading you can totally see as a great movie, this was one of those for me.' @katandthebookshelf 'Every page is bursting with action [...] If you're looking for a read that'll get your heart racing and keep you guessing, this is it. It's the kind of book you'll probably devour in one sitting because you can't put it down. Seriously, I can't recommend this enough.' @bookish_mum_insta 'Searingly violent and wonderfully tender by turns.' GUARDIAN 'Slick and brutal.' LUCIE MCKNIGHT HARDY 'A lean and mean tale of female empowerment.' LA TIMES 'A violent and transgressive marvel.' JOHN COPENHAVER 'A breezy, sleazy piece of revisionist pulp.' TOM BENN 'A gripping, unbreakable thriller.' TOKYO WEEKENDER 'This tender yet furious crime saga will leave readers hungry for more from Otani soon.' PUBLISHERS WEEKLY, starred review

Akira Otani was born in Tokyo in 1981. Beginning her career writing for video games, she made her literary debut with the short story collection Nobody Said We're Perfect, an exploration of relationships between women. An out lesbian, she is the author of the essay collection Since You're So Curious About My Body and the forthcoming novel Rurika, Born 2019, Turns 50. The Night of Baba Yaga is her first book to be translated into English.

Textauszug

Hearing the rain through the open windows, Yoshiko stepped into her sandals and hopped off of the back deck into the yard, where she pulled tenugui and underwear off of the laundry line and threw the basket back into the house. The sky went dark. In the distance, you could hear the growl of thunder. It was only May, too early for the rainy season to begin.

Luckily, the laundry didn’t get that wet. They could hang it in the living room. Taking a breath, she stepped inside and closed the doors onto the deck. The gust of air that followed her kicked at her floppy ponytail. All those gray hairs made her appear a little older than she was, but she let it go, no interest in dyeing it or cutting it short. She had almost no wrinkles and her posture was superb. She was used to hearing she could look ten years younger, easily, if she only dyed her hair, but at this point, what was looking any younger going to do for her?

“Masa, come on, help with the laundry. Can’t you hear the rain?”

Masaoka was sitting in the next room at a beat-up tea table, reading the newspaper, chin propped in his palm. His salt-and-pepper hair was cut into a squarish flattop, something you don’t see much anymore. With that tenugui tied around his neck, he struck the figure of a working man from way back when. He had put on a little weight, mostly around the belly. Hunched over like that, he looked almost like a Shiba Inu, sitting like a good boy.

“Sorry. Blame my granny ears.”

Always ready with a comeback. In a soft voice at odds with his appearance, Masa pushed his black-rimmed glasses down onto his nose and looked at Yoshiko.

“You’re a lost cause,” said Yoshiko.

Masa had grown softer all around over the years; his voice and body, but most of all his personality, had gone through an incredible transformation. Barely any trace remained of what had been a prickly demeanor, so high-strung as to make him unapproachable. Things had changed. In the old days he had never joked around, but lately it had gotten to the point where he was making lame puns all the time and even humming to himself. If anyone from their past could see Masa now, their jaw would drop.

Masa wasn’t the only one who’d changed. Yoshiko was like a completely different person. Her eyes fell on the garish cat print apron and the mustard-yellow sweater, things she never would have worn back in the day. For a while, they had made an effort not to wear clothes that stood out, but now that they were older, an understated outfit would be dangerously conspicuous. A matter of changing trends. The last few times she took the bus out to the shopping center in the next town to buy clothes, the section for younger women was all about minimalism, while the racks for the old ladies screamed with color.

Masa’s tastes had gone the other way. He used to have exacting style. Then after they went off together, he started wearing leisurewear exclusively. These days, he saw no issue stepping out dressed in a tracksuit blown out at the elbows and the knees.

We’re old, thought Yoshiko. When did that happen? Her eyes traced the lines of Masa’s back. Who could believe that the night they ran away, hand in hand, running through the driving rain, had slipped so deep into the past? She never had imagined they would make it long enough to see each other’s hair turn gray.

Transferring the laundry onto hangers that she hung over the lintels of the sliding paper doors, Yoshiko realized that she still had to go buy groceries for dinner. She sighed and grabbed a cardigan and slung a tote over her shoulder.

“Be right back. Running to the store.”

“Now? Look, the sky’s about to fall.”

“If you’re fine with having plain white rice and umeboshi for supper, I’ll stay home.”

Masa scratched his chin and folded up the newspaper. Took him a second to get up.

“All right. I guess I’ll join you.”

“What? That’s a first.”

“Let’s make a date of it. It’s been too long.”

“Date? Psssh …”

Too late. Masa grabbed his navy zip-up and headed for the door. Yoshiko hurried to catch up with him.

The rain wasn’t so heavy after all. The nearest supermarket was three hundred meters down the street. Good exercise for their achy legs. Besides, they weren’t about to share an umbrella in public. Two cheap plastic ones from the convenience store did just fine.

“Looks like the rainy season’s starting early.”

“Spring skipped us again this year.”

They made small talk, chatting about nothing. This was a good town. Not too built up or spread out. Most people ran their errands in their cars, but the two of them didn’t even have bicycles. They took care of their daily business at the stores within walking distance from the house. For anything they couldn’t live without, they rode one of the ten (or fewer) buses per day to the next town. It was a frugal life, but peaceful. They lived within their means.

The town was in a valley surrounded by low hills that stood between them and the sea. The seafood was as tasty as the produce. They lived in public housing, a development. Since the rent was cheap, they were able to eke out a comfortable existence so long as they made no indulgences. Best of all, the town was full of young people who had jobs at the factory, which meant little of the nosey meddling often found in country towns this size. The last place they lived had way too many gossipy and prying types. As new arrivals, Yoshiko and Masa were a favorite topic of conversation. It was hard to take. This place was great. As much peace and quiet as anyone could ask for.

This was not the future Yoshiko had envisioned for herself, however vaguely, in her younger years. She set her eyes on Masa, on his salt-and-pepper hair, a few steps ahead of her. The fact that she was older by a few years made no difference anymore.

“Masa, wait a sec.”

No sooner had she spoken than a huge sound slashed the air in front of them.

They stopped short. Just up the road, a zigzagging white minivan lost control and hopped the curb, plowing into the sign of a funeral home. Airbags puffed across the windshield; smoke billowed from beneath the vehicle.

“Shit, a car crash.”

Masa lost it. People were stuck inside the car. Yoshiko looked around. There was usually a fair amount of traffic on this street. For once, though, it was empty.

“Shit, we gotta call an ambulance.”

“Masa, we …”

Neither of them had a phone. To call an ambulance, they would either have to rush home or run down to the supermarket and use the payphone.

“Hey!” Masa screamed. “There’s a kid in there.”

Squinting, they could see a child seated in the car. The smoke was getting darker by the second, as a vile stench of chemicals and burning plastic filled the air. Any moment now, it might burst into flames and explode.

“Fuck, we can’t just leave. We gotta help them!”

Masa tossed his umbrella and sprinted in his sandals toward the car, Yoshiko following close behind.

“Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

Masa banged on the window. A man in his mid-thirties was pinned between the airbag and the front seat, unconscious. In the seat beside him was a young girl with her eyes open wide, in such an advanced state of shock her only movement was the heaving of her shoulders as she breathed.

“Masa, move!”

Yoshiko hit the window with a broken hunk of concrete from the curb; it cracked but didn’t shatter. On the far side of the car, Masa reached through the girl’s window, which had broken in the crash, and unlocked the door with shaky fingers.

“Are you okay? You hurt? Come on, get out!”

The girl was silent. Petrified. Masa unbuckled her seatbelt and pulled her from the van, just as a tongue of flame leapt from the trunk.

“Fire, run!” he yelled.

“Just a second!” said Yoshiko, swinging the hunk of concrete. “Almost there!”

She finally broke through the glass and reached through it to open the door. Now that she could reach him, she undid the unconscious man’s safety belt.

“Yoshiko! Run!”

Masa fled, carrying the girl, who was paralyzed with fear. Yoshiko pulled the man from the wreck and dragged him away by the armpits. Seconds later, there was a dizzying boom, and the car was engulfed in flames. Hot wind blew across their cheeks.

They were a second shy of being torched. Red flames and black ribbons of smoke wove through the rainy sky.

Yoshiko was spent. Hugging the man to her chest, she sat down where she was, right on the pavement. Over her shoulder, she saw Masa standing with the girl, holding her hand tight. The girl was small, fair-skinned and slight, two...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 2.7.2024
• Übersetzer: Sam Bett
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Krimi / Thriller / Horror ► Krimi / Thriller
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-10: 0-571-39108-7 / 0571391087
• ISBN-13: 978-0-571-39108-0 / 9780571391080