Chapter 1: NAOKI

My heart jumpstarted at the blaring of a horn in the middle of the night. My apartment was already dirt cheap and undermaintained, so of course the walls were shit and did nothing to block out intrusive sounds. My eyes—dry, angry, and tired—darted around the darkness of my room, trying to make sense of the sound that had jolted me awake.

On my right, a bright white light shone through the window, putting my curtains to shame and drawing a deep grumble from the very depths of my soul.

Useless see-through bastards, I thought and rolled, body heavy, out of bed so I could tap twice on the black screen of my cellphone from where it lay on the nightstand. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

3:07 in the morning.

What. The hell.

And there was the horn, a car’s horn, still going nonstop like no one had the sense to tell whatever idiot was downstairs to shut the hell up if they valued their life. And then I realized, Oh. That would be me. I’m the idiot landlord of this embarrassing, steaming pile of sh—

Banging on my front door interrupted my thoughts. “Naoki-san! Naoki-san, open up!” I heard, and a heartfelt “Oh, yay” escaped my lips as I crossed over to wrench the door open. The whole damn apartment building of residents was outside my room, a group of gophers peering into my door. I was shirtless, in only a pair of plaid pajama bottoms, but they all seemed too riled up to care.

I addressed whoever was nearest. “Ms. Goda—”

“Naoki-san, are you deaf?! Do something about that horn!” It was Mr. Sano, three people behind Ms. Goda.

“Don’t worry. I was just going to—”

“It’s three in the morning, man!” Someone else from the back of the group.

“Yes, I am aware—”

“Well, hurry the hell up! This is ridiculous! Can’t you do anything right?! Why are we waking you up? Do your job! Get a move on!” The chorus of screams and demands sent blood rushing to my head and discomfort settled in my chest. I held my hands up in protest.

“You people,” make me want to jump off the damn balcony, I thought, but I swallowed it. Raising my voice to yell over them and the sound of the horn, I said, “I’ll handle it. You all head back to your rooms. Sorry about this.”

I apologized like any of this was my fault. Customer service and stuff.

“Goodness… Got work in three hours and shit.” Now Ms. Goda, her withered and old, blessed heart, was mumbling as she walked away. I made a face at everyone’s backs, snatched a light sweater off my coat rack, and hurried along the length of the balcony and down the stairs of the two-story apartment building.

By the time I reached the ground floor, I had some thoughts bobbing around in my head. Most popular on the list was, Bastard must be dead, laying on the horn like that. Second most popular was how I would help the unfortunate soul who must’ve been dead in the car, and if they weren’t dead, what I would do to that unfortunate soul now that I’d gotten dragged out of my sleep and pestered by the friendly residents.

At the driver’s side of the car now, I peered inside by smooshing my forehead against the window. There appeared to be a man inside at the driver’s seat. He had his forehead pressed against the car’s horn, his arms hanging down limply at his sides. My pessimism sprang forward like a dog went for a bone.

Yup, I thought. Dead as a doornail. I was busy shaking my head in “that’s a shame” fashion when I noticed two empty bottles of liquor on the seat next to him.

Wait… This guy’s… drunk? A drunk driver. On my turf??

I felt my ears grow hot with a sudden impatience and I rapped my knuckles hard against the window in an attempt to wake him. The driver didn’t budge, my impatience grew, and my knuckles method quickly turned into closed-fisted pounding and shouting until the man was roused.

When he lifted his head and the incessant blaring of the car horn stopped, I nearly forgot my anger in place of the instant relief that blessed my ears! But I gathered myself quickly.

“Hey, you! Open the door.”

The man wobbled in his seat like his head was too big for his body, and he looked at me through the window. His eyes were half-shut and unsteady. I knocked again on the window before he could pass out again and he jolted to open the door, much to my satisfaction.

“H-Heyyy,” he started to say with his stupid, drunken mouth the moment his clouded eyes were on me, “are youuu—” but my hand went slicing through the air toward his cheek before he could say anything more.

My luck meant that, of course, he landed back on the car’s horn. The renewed sound had doors from all sorts of residents flying open, curses and everything short of children and animals being hurtled at me, and a searing headache that beat me up from within.

How? Why is this my life? I asked myself, groaning with the effort it took to drag the man away from the horn and his car. I had to kneel down and let this smelly stranger fall heavy onto my back. My pettiness had me questioning whether I should close his car door or leave it open for the thieves and the wolves, but my few nicer impulses won over and I kicked the door closed before trudging toward the stairs.

I damned the apartment building for not having an elevator. I damned the residents for not helping me with this strange man who was a lot heavier than he looked. I damned the stranger for ruining the rest of my day though it wasn’t even 4 a.m., and I damned him again for making me damn so many things this early in the morning.

“Let’s hope you’re not an ax murderer,” I mumbled as I dropped the guy onto my unmade bed. I huffed, wiping a hand over the sweat that had collected over my brows. As I yanked his shoes off and chucked them toward the front door, I couldn’t help thinking, I wonder what this loser’s story is.

I dragged myself toward the tiny linen closet for a futon which I rolled out for myself. The last thought I had before lying down for what little rest I could get was about that stranger. He looked miserable, but…

He’s probably no worse off than me.

Only, I couldn’t f**king sleep.

There was a bear hibernating in my room and it jerked around in the shape of a human. The stranger was diabolical, trying to shake the walls down with his snores. I had my pillow over my head and my comforter over the pillow and still couldn’t drown out the noise. It was so loud it rattled my bones.

It stripped the reason right out of my brain.

It had me thinking, Maybe this guy will stop if I CHOKE the snore out of him. A thought so tempting I actually had to hold my breath to force it from my mind. I shook my head. I need a distraction.

So, while the sun’s intensifying rays streaked through the useless blinds and the drunkard slept off the alcohol in my bed, I busied myself for the next several hours with my usual Monday morning routine. I swept and dusted my humble abode, lined up my prized kitchenware to polish and shine, and packed it all up into my oversized carrier for later today.

By the time I finished, it was after 10 a.m. and the sun was high in the sky. “Finished.” I grunted out mid-stretch and left briefly to go to the bathroom.

The keyword here is ‘briefly.’

When I returned, Mr. Drunkard had somehow floated his ass to the booze I had stashed in the low cabinet beside the refrigerator. He was drinking straight. From. The. Bottle.

“You dirty bastard! What the hell do you think you’re doing with my booze!?”

My booming voice apparently startled him to pieces because he dropped the bottle, which sent him into a frenzy trying to catch it before it smashed to bits on the kitchen floor. I was too dumbstruck to move and simply watched the event unfold.

At the last second, he managed to keep hold of it and wasted no time putting the bottle back up to his lips. Sitting on the floor, his legs outstretched like an oversized child, he took a long swig of liquor and looked at me with those unsteady eyes from earlier. “Who-Who’auhrr youuu?” He said, and my hand twitched involuntarily.

I’m not violent I’m not violent I’m not violent I’m not violent—

“Okay, my guy, you need to go.” I told him, “Give me your phone so I can call someone to come get you. Time for you to go home.”

“Eh?? Guaaaahhhh!! Uaaghhh… Ahhhhhhrrrg *hic* *hic* Aaaaahg haaaaa haaaak *hic* Rose!! My lovely Rose! Whyyyyy did you lea’me?? *hic* I *hic* have no *hic* ho- *hic* hoooooome *hic* *hic* *hic* Uaaagghhh… Aaahhhgraaah—”

I chose violence and slapped him for the second time in twenty-four hours.