Chapter 1 - Victory

 From the first row of benches in the hall, Eiji got a perfect view of Aimi and the rest of the team fighting for their spot at the championship. Their tight-fitting volleyball uniforms were black streaked with red, with some brutal white stating their names at the back, giving them a rather militaristic, almost fascistic appearance. As they played, Aimi would scream harshly at her other teammates as a commander, stomping her strong legs to the ground. But as soon as she turned back towards him her eyes widened as if she stepped out of a trance, and she would either grin or wink at him disarmingly, occasionally reaching down to pull on the tight legs of the shorts that went further and further up her toned thighs until they had the appearance of boyshorts. 
 During the break, she came over, sweat dripping from her boyish face. “We’re not going to win this one.” She unscrewed the cap from the water bottle and sloshed some water around her mouth before gulping it down audibly. “I hate my team.” 
 Eiji knew so little about volleyball that he couldn’t even tell who was doing what wrong. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed.” 
“You do that.” Aimi reached down and ran her fingers through his hair, and a pregnant silence settled in. Though they both knew they were together, the relationship itself had never been discussed out loud, and the few moments that turned physical were rare and far between. In truth, it was always Aimi who touched him out of the blue, as if she were standing at the edge of an abyss and contact with his body was one thing that could bring her back to reality.
“Well.” She smiled again. “I better go try and save this mess.” 
 The brunette passed the water bottle to him and ran back on the court, the soles of her sneakers squeaking over the polished floor. Eiji held the water between his hands reverentially, feeling the lingering warmth of her spindly fingers, then took the cap off and ran his fingers along the rim where her full lips had been, bringing it up his own lips to connect them for a moment, and the thought of their two warmths meeting was enough to make him shiver. 
 Eiji grew up being told that he had the sentimentality of a poet, but in truth he rarely felt much of anything at all. He was not a brooding type that struggled to make sense of his feelings, he was simply a confused soul that was honest enough to admit that he knew nothing about anything. To him, life was a mystery, but a boring one that could never be solved, like an unfinished manga with an author turned lazy otaku. He did things that needed doing, but very rarely did it occur to him to try harder than that. 
 It was only when Aimi came screeching into his life like an out of control train that he could say that he got a real interest in something for the first time. He had seen her in class plenty of times, but then she was only the tomboy that came in late so that the teacher to point out the scent of booze that hung around her. Under pressure she would always crack jokes, very bad ones that made the whole class laugh at her rather than with her, a pitiless cackle that made him cringe even before he knew her by name. 
 One day Eiji was coming home from a short shift at the convenience store and went to the bus stop when he saw a shadowy, solitary figure sitting on the bench, a beer warming up between her thighs, while a cigarette was placed on the other side of the bench, almost like a companion, smoke curling from its tip into the wintry night. He had looked away then as he always did from any potential conflict, though she soon stood up and came to stand next to the edge of the platform. “You’re from my class,” she stated, taking a drag from her cigarette. 
“That’s true. Eiji.” 
 She bobbed her head. “I remember. Do you remember my name?” 
 He blushed and tried to shake off the embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I’m very bad with names.” 
“Not like it matters.” She let the smoke drift from her open mouth as she looked up expressionless at the powerlines. “I’m drunk.” 
“Well, you should probably go home…” 
 Aimi snorted. “I would.” A sad smile followed. “Only problem is, I don’t have one. A home, I mean.” 
“Well, you can always share mine,” he offered instinctively. It was almost a thoughtless comment, but one that made her give him a look as if she had seen a ghost. 
“Do you mean that?” 
 Did he? Probably not. At least not at that time. Now, though, Aimi was his home, and he was hers. As he sat by and watched her play with the other girls, he couldn’t help but feel that one day soon they would be far away from all this, in a nice house in the middle of nowhere.
 One of the girls on her team struck the ball and sent it flying over the net, though the referee whistled and called it out. A conflict erupted, but the few people in the stands, mostly friends and relatives, looked relieved to get a break from a game they neither knew or cared about. Their coach Saburo went up to the referee, trying to smooth things over.  
 Eiji put little energy into disliking anyone, but he deeply disliked that fat man old man. There was a spiritual grease that dripped from him at all times, and his slimy appearance with the slicked-back strands of hair on his head and the sweaty shirts truly brought it home. To make it worse, Aimi told him that rather bluntly that the creep loved to come in accidentally when the girls were changing and offer massages to them. Even as the game unfolded tonight, Eiji would see him staring at the girls as they bent over, shamelessly ogling the the stretched shorts. 
 Just the thought of those dark eyes lingering on Aimi’s behind made Eiji feel murderous. That people like this guy could be in a position like this around school girls was an offense to society itself. To kill him in the most brutal manner would have been an honorable act. 
 The matter with the referee got settled and the game went on, and the tide was switching to their side. He could see the glimmering beads of sweat flying off of Aimi’s body as she sprinted all over, jumping high up in the air to hit the ball in a fierce manner that left the other team stunned. They were so amazed by her performance that it left them dispirited, and after Aimi had helped her team catch up, they all grew in confidence and played well enough to end the game with a considerable lead. 
 A few of the parents in the crowd got up to clap at the amazing deed once the game ended, as did Eiji. She did it. She did it!! I’m so proud of her… Aimi hugged with the other girls and laughed, but waved over to him happily. She doesn’t have a reason to drink tonight, he thought innocently. Today is a happy day. 
 The girls went back to their lockers to change. Eiji waited outside by the door, scrolling through Twitter on his phone and liking pictures retweeted by his favorite mangakas as the players left. Many of them knew him from school, but especially now that he was with Aimi, and greeted him with a solemn nod before they went on their way. 
 When they were all gone, Aimi opened the door and popped her head out. “Hey, don’t stand there, come in!” She left the door ajar and Eiji followed her inside.
“Well…” she said impatiently. “What did you think?”
“It was an amazing performance.” 
“Hell yes. I won that shit,” she said, beyond satisfied with herself, the happiness practically oozing off of her. “I did it.” 
“You did. Maybe we should celebrate.” 
 Her eyebrow rose. “Celebrate? And how do we do that?” 
“I don’t know… Go somewhere nice, maybe.” 
“I’d like that.” 
 Her fingers worked the laces of the sneakers, and Eiji stared for a moment at the chipped black paint of her nails and the bitten ends. “So.” She glanced up to smile through the dark hair that draped over her face. “Where are you taking me?” 
 The door creaked open and heavy footfalls echoed through the windowless room. “There’s my superstar,” said Saburo. He came and put his arm around her shoulder and brought her close to his chest sweaty. It was a boyish gesture that could’ve been taken as cute and funny, but the clear discomfort on her face took away any possibility of that. “You destroyed them. You crucified them,” he said in a bad English accent, and felt happy he had somehow remembered that from somewhere. 
 Aimi kept her eyes and voice low. “Thanks…” 
“How about I take you out for a drink, huh? You’ve earned it.” 
 Though he stood right next to them, Eiji was being completely ignored. The question made his blood boil, as did the sight of this human toad having his arm around his sweetheart. And even then, the idea that a coach would suggest to a school girl to go out for a drink with him went beyond the pale. 
“Sorry, I can’t. I have plans.” 
“Oh? What plans?” 
 Aimi jerked her head in Eiji’s direction. “He’s taking me somewhere.” 
 Saburo’s eyes fell on him as if he were spotting Eiji for the first time. “Is that so?” He smirked and bobbed his jowled head. “So you’re the boyfriend, then?” A pause came but neither Aimi nor Eiji said a word. “Isn’t that something? I suppose even girls like her can find people willing to date them.” 
 Girls like what? What was he trying to say? “She’s the best girl.” Eiji wanted to say that as a gotcha, but it came out half-hearted and edged with a prepubescent crack in his voice.
 Saburo laughed darkly and glanced at Aimi. “Is this true? What did you tell this poor kid, huh? Can’t you see how dense he is?” 
 She sniffed weakly. “Leave him alone…”
“I think you should be fucking saying that to yourself,” he barked harshly. “Does he even know?” 
 Do I know what? thought Eiji, suddenly paralyzed in the space of pure possibility. Did he mean about the smoking and drinking? Of course he knew about that… 
 Aimi closed her eyes and a pained look came over her. “Sabu, please…” 
 Saburo laughed a little more and licked his fat lips. “Right. Right.” He went on holding her against his chest, though by now his palm had come down to the small of her back, the fingertips resting just over the waistband of the shorts.
“Well, either way, you played great tonight.” The old hand suddenly smacked her ass. Aimi yelped and buried her head in his chest in shame. “Was that too hard? Sorry. My lil’ bro always said I can’t control my strength.” His fingers came down and kneaded her tortured cheeks, passing the young flesh between them with what looked like years of experience.
 Eiji watched in total horror, unsure of what to say or do. He’s… He’s touching her ass… Why was Aimi not doing anything? And how could a coach do this? He must have been thirty years older than her. This wasn’t acceptable! STOP! He wished he could scream. STOP TOUCHING HER!! Instead, he only watched helplessly as the old man played with his girlfriend’s shapely and toned volleyball butt, caressing it like a peach on display at the market. 
 Aimi began to shake and cooed softly against him, one leg lifting up in a feminine fashion behind. Saburo winked at Eiji confidently and lowered the other hand down to grip the second cheek. “I can tell your ass has missed me.” His shameless gaze stayed with Eiji, challenging him. “Did you know the most important part of any volleyball player is the ass?” He tittered by himself as his calloused and hairy fingers played with her worked-out glutes. “It’s true. It’s why Aimi over here is such a great player - it’s all in her ass.” 
 He gave it another bitter smack and stepped away, leaving Aimi shaken and motionless. It took a few seconds for her to snap out of it and lower her arms from the guarded position that she took, though she continued to look down and avoid eye contact with Eiji. 
 Aimi… He stared at her, unsure of what to do. His instincts said to protect her, but how could she allow this pig to touch her in that way? And with me standing right beside them. Not to mention the part where she begged Saburo not to tell him. Tell me what? 
 The fat man headed out but grabbed Eiji by the wrist and dragged him along. “Come with me, kid.” 
 Once they were out, Saburo let go. He took out a cigarette and lit it, then stared at a nearby vending machine thoughtfully. “What’s the last grade you got in math?” 
 Eiji swallowed hard and shifted the balance of his feet. He couldn’t even stand properly anymore. Just what was going on? “W-What?” The simple reply came out as a painful stammer. 
“Math. Your last score. What was it?” 
“Uhm… A 9, I think.” 
“A 9. Not bad. You know, I was a lot like you when I was little. Scared and sheltered, but a good student and above all, a good kid. Unloved and miserable, but still. And just like you I met a broken girl that I thought would make all my dreams come true. She came over to my house every day, we watched movies, we cuddled, we fucked, and life seemed perfect. My grades were falling apart, but what did that matter? I did everything for her. I even sold this gold watch my father had inherited from my grandfather because her dirtbag of a father couldn’t make rent and they were about to be evicted.”
 Saburo took a long drag on the smoke and the cigarette flared in the cool neon lights of the school hallway. “Point being, you do a lot of stupid shit when you’re in love. Especially when it’s the first time. I did everything for that girl, and you know what it got me? A failed school year and a job working as a fucking garbage man. All while she whored around, always telling me it wasn’t true, always apologizing and telling me it would change. People don’t change, kid. And as harsh as it may sound, some people aren’t real people. They’re kinda just there. To be fucked and used and let go of once they’re done - and they will be. Because there’s nothing under the skin. Just like disposable plates, you got disposable people. You use them more than once and they start to break and leave you fucked. Disposable people. Do you feel me?
“Aimi’s got a nice body and a great ass. Have your fun. But watch your grades and keep your eyes out for a good girl to start a family with. Don’t be like me, kid. Because one day” - he put out the half-smoked cigarette against the cartoon bear of the vending machine - “you’ll wake up a disposable person yourself.” 
 Saburo took off without another word, his heavy feet thundering down the hallway as he waddled into the distance. Disposable people? What the hell was that? And why was Aimi so bad? Eiji suddenly realized he hadn’t asked about what she didn’t want him to know, and it was a little too late to run after the old man. His hairs were standing on their ends, and he struggled to breathe normally. 
 I’m scared, he realized dispassionately.  
 The door opened behind him and Aimi stepped out, dressed to go, the checkered-coat buttoned up to her chin. “Is he gone?” 
“Yeah.” His heart thrummed hard in his chest. “He’s gone.” 
 Visible relief washed over her. A breath that looked like it had been held forever came out of her. “Thank god.” 
“Aimi…” He wondered how to phrase it. “Do you want to tell me something?” 
 Her eyes held him and she smiled broadly, almost comically forced. “Not really? He’s a creep. What more is there to say?” 
 What could he possibly reply to that? “All right.” 
 She stepped forward and took him by the arm arm. “Come on, let’s go have some bubble tea and hamburgers. Let’s celebrate!” 