Neighborly Affliction

1

Shit.

In a small 'burb of Tokyo, well after night had fallen over the city, an unusual scene was playing out in a dusty alleyway. Senji Kumori, college exchange student and victim of frequent gender confusion, was pinned against the wall by some greasy punk who stood a good head shorter than her. 

"Money, now."

"Mugging? Really?," Senji sighed as she dug through her pockets. Her japanese was still not perfect, but this guy was easy enough to understand. At least, now he was. His first few demands were in some other language, and one attempt at very bad english. 

"Speed this along, you little weasel!," a much older man hissed from the shadows, in that unfamiliar language. Based on the tone, he was getting impatient. The younger one whined back at him, sounding bored by all this.

"You and me both," Senji grumbled. She pulled her hands out from her pockets, holding them palm out. One hand was empty, the other held her beat-up wallet. Her attacker swiped at it, too focused on the cash to notice her free hand swinging forward. Or the electrical noise from her compact taser as it connected with his side.

"Hah! Fuck, that hurt!"

He yelped from the shock, stumbling backward. Senji stuffed her wallet into her jacket pocket before taking a fighting stance. She glared down at the young man, noting his expression as it changed from one of boredom to eerie excitement.

"Fighting, huh? This is different," he regained his posture and grinned maliciously. He took no stance, hanging as casually as he had before. Senji lurched forward, throwing her fist up toward his jaw, but it never connected. She stumbled a few steps, turning toward the empty space where a lazy criminal had just been. 

"Haha! Sooo close! Too bad for you, I got a cheat code!," the boy cackled from above. 

Wait, above? Senji's gaze whipped upward toward the voice, her eyes widening in surprise for just a moment. He had sprouted black wings, and hovered just above her head. Her face reverted back to that snarly grin she wore before, and she jumped forward again, grabbing his thin leg and yanking him down. He slammed into a pile of trash bags, looking a bit surprised himself. 

Before either combatant could blink, a loud, echoing sound rang out. The two stared at each other, momentarily stunned. The old man and the boy shouted at each other, but Senji couldn't make anything out. It could have been a different language, but her ears were ringing too much to even tell that much. Her vision started to fade, and she felt something wet run down her side. She touched the area under her breast, feeling torn cloth and something warm. She inspected her hand, blinking in the dim light. Red, blood? Her mind failed to process it as her consciousness faded. Her body crumpled onto the ground, and her two attackers fled the scene. 

…

"My leige! You cannot-!"

Senji sighed heavily. She lived alone in a small apartment building. Her room was the third door on the first floor, 103. It wasn't much to look at, and she only had one room to work with, but the price was better than most and she enjoyed the quiet atmosphere. She did, that is, until the new neighbors moved in upstairs. They appeared harmless enough, but they could get quite loud. They first spoke very broken japanese, but quickly picked up the language. One of them had finally landed a more stable job, and the other tended to house-hold duties. They also had a rather extreme fear of the landlady, Ms. Shiba. She was definitely eccentric, Senji had to admit, but not much worse than those two with their goofy "my leige" this "demon general" that talk. 

"I know I'm not here much, but at least try to be considerate," she grumbled under her breath before turning back to her mountain of school work. Between school and her call center job, she spent very little time actually in her apartment. And when she was home, she was either sleeping or trying to cram in a little more studying. The loyal house-husband upstairs was in a big fit tonight though, and it was very distracting.

Sighing loudly again, Senji slipped on her shoes and a light jacket. She stepped outside, instantly drained from the wall of humidity that greeted her. Zipping her jacket up, she headed for the rickety metal stairs. She climbed them carefully, making her way to the sort of hallway area that led to the top rooms. Stopping in front of the door to 201, she hesitated for a moment before knocking. 

"Shit! See what you did, Ashiya! Someone's prob'ly called in a noise complai-"

A young man, looking about Senji's age, opened the door. He wore only a t-shirt and his boxers, a detail that made Senji slightly uncomfortable. This one went by Maou, if she remembered right.

"Ah, Senji, right? From downstairs?," he looked tense before, but eased up upon recognizing her.

"Um, yeah. I was just wondering if, you guys could be a bit quieter," Senji glanced behind Maou, spotting his roommate Ashiya glowering at a red-haired woman.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, Ashiya's a bit upset about dinner plans changing on 'im. We'll quiet down, though. Didn't know you were home yet," Maou rambled out an apology, and loosely agreed to be quieter. Senji looked blankly at him, not really expecting much from that response.

"Okay, thanks. If it gets too loud again I'll have to call the landlady, though. See you," she threw in that minor threat just in case, then waved lazily and took her leave. 

"Who's that?"

"Senji, he lives in an apartment downstairs. Guess we were too lou-"

Senji winced a little at the conversation she overheard as she left, noting the pronoun usage by Maou. Whatever. She stepped back into her room, and quickly tore off her jacket. Her attire wasn't the most feminine, with loose men's shorts and an equally loose tank-top, but she still had a woman's body. 

"Oh well. Keeps things simple, I guess."

She eyed the pile of papers scattered across her desk, then shrugged and pulled a futon mattress out of the closet. There was no way she was finishing that homework tonight, so she flopped onto the futon and waited for sleep to set in.

"Too bad I lost my Vita," she whined to the ceiling. Her beloved handheld console was lost after she got shot a month ago. The bullet had only grazed her ribs, so it was healing without much issue.It happened around the same time her noisy neighbors moved in. There had been a number of reported muggings since then, along with a few small earthquakes. Her memory of the incident was hazy, and what was clear was just too crazy to believe. The only evidence was a single black feather that rested on her desk.