Chapter 2 - Spilled Ink

 It was an incredible thing, how only a few words and images could taint everything. Like people that spent their whole lives guided by a few lines from sacred texts that they knew by heart, so Eiji constantly thought back to Aimi getting felt up by Saburo and begging for his silence. Had she even begged? The scene looped in Eiji’s mental theatre nonstop, but at times it felt like it shifted depending on mood, with Aimi going pained and desperate if he felt sad and hopeless, to her seeming rough and dismissive in the moments he wanted to think it was all nothing and that she just didn’t want to give Saburo the pleasure of messing around. 
 One thing that stood out was just how sweet she acted towards him since it happened. Aimi never acted out with him, but now she played up her cuteness and affection to such a degree that it became entirely disarming. She wanted to hold his hand as they walked at all times, leaned into him when they waited for the bus or went up the elevator, and slept against his shoulder as they commuted. And most importantly, she stopped drinking and smoking, at least when Eiji was present. 
 The crashing waves sprayed up their faces as they walked along the waterfront at the edge of town, dark clouds gathering past the shores. Aimi was zipped all the way up and had the hood drawn tightly over her head so that only her nose and eyes showed through the opening. “They say tomorrow it’s going to start getting warm again.”
 Eiji shivered. White froth dripped off the jagged stones below. I should ask her about Saburo, he thought again, and wondered how to go about it. But what if she reacted badly? What if she got sad or angry… What if she just left him altogether for thinking him too nosy?
“Hey!” Eiji glanced over and felt her arms wrapping around his neck. She got up on her toes to reach up to him, bringing the tip of her nose against his. “We should go somewhere nice this week. A trip. How about it?” 
 Eiji imagined all the different ways this could have gone. He thought of American music videos and how he could have grabbed her right now and lifted her up, pressing her against his chest as they made out against the cold metal of the railing. Instead, he only felt an icy, numbing chill going up his spine as a realization took shape: Somebody has already done that with her, and probably much more.  
 Her mouth opened in a gush of emotion and her breath smoked between them. Then she smiled, a smile that would have been too much even on a lottery winner, the kind of smile that let him know she was standing on thin ice and about to go under at the slightest touch, a smile that was really the lowest form of begging. Don’t bring up anything, it begged. Don’t break the spell. Just let me enjoy this while I can.  
 They walked back together arm in arm, Eiji listening quietly to Aimi as she told him all the places they would go on their trip. Apparently she knew all the sights and attractions in the nearby towns. “I can’t wait to show you, it’s going to be so fun!” How did a high school girl know so much about areas in places more than two hours away? Who did she go there with, and why?
 Just as they were about to leave the waterfront completely, a tattooed guy swaggered into view, wearing a sleeveless shirt and sunglasses despite the bad weather. “Oh, God…” Aimi whispered, and she buried her face in Eiji’s neck. What? Was this another person she knew? 
 He looked like he was about to pass them by without a word when he stopped short and grinned. “Aimi?” He lifted the sunglasses and narrowed his eyes. “Is that you, Aimi-chan?” 
 She reluctantly looked over. “H-Hello…” 
 The thug seemed on edge even as he made casual conversation, his forearms bulging with thick veins that distorted his colorful tattoos. He reached and pulled her hood back unceremoniously. “I’ve got the eyes of a fucking eagle, man. An eagle. I’d tattoo an eagle if I still had room for it.” The tattoos even came up past his neck and ran down to his fingernails. 
 Aimi smiled awkwardly and tried not to make eye contact. The thug finally acknowledged Eiji and shook his hand. “I’m Jonu. You know, like John in America?” 
“I got it,” said Eiji politely. The thug seemed proud of his moniker.  
“So what are you guys doing? You want to hang out or something?” He took Aimi by the hand and got closer to her. “We haven’t seen each other in ages,” he whispered suggestively, twining her small and pale fingers around his dark tattooed ones. “What do you say?” 
“I can’t, sorry… We have to get home.” 
 He took his hand away, all offended. “I see. You got a real boyfriend now, huh? You must be a real humanitarian.” He chuckled at Eiji. “Dating used trash like this.” 
 Eiji could feel his heart fire up again. Aimi was pulling him away, whispering for them to go, but he just couldn’t let it go this time. What kind of man would? I’m not spineless… I can’t be. “You’re the real trash. Just look at you,” he said. “You look like shit.”
“What did you say to me, you little shit?” Jonu shoved Aimi aside and went straight for him, lifting him up by the front of his jacket. The power in his arms was no joke - he probably could’ve hurled Eiji away with the ease with which kids threw stones. “You think it’s worth getting the shit kicked out of you for this slut?”
 Aimi raised her hands to her face in shock. “Let him go! Please! Jonu, I’ll go with you, just let him go!” 
“You hear that? What loyalty.” 
 Eiji could feel his heart break from her quick change in attitude but the adrenaline still rushed through his system. “You’re still trash, man.” 
 Jonu grinned in total disbelief. “Dumb kid.” He slammed his fist into Eiji’s stomach hard enough that it made him reel and puke his guts out. He tottered unsteadily, reaching out for something to hold onto, until he folded and collapsed to the ground. The pain spiked through his whole body without any real source, the world spinning around with a bright light at the center. How could a single punch do this?... 
“And you,” Eiji could hear Jonu say. “You fucking bitch. How many times have you come begging to me for cash? And what, now you’re too good for me or something? Don’t let me catch you here again. I see either one of you in my territory and I’ll send you into the fucking depths.” 
 By the time he regained enough composure to see straight, Jonu had walked off into the darkening horizon. Aimi crouched next to him, running her hands over his torso in a desperate attempt to get him to feel better, as if she were some sort of MMO healer. “Fuck! I’m so sorry about that.” There was a real panic in her voice, an ugly terror like that of a witch whose bewitching disguise failed, as if she thought this chance she would get to defend herself. 
 Eiji wasn’t sure what to say, so he said nothing. He put a hand over the part of his belly where he had been hit and rose slowly, drawing in his breath sharply and yelping as the pain arched through him whenever he moved too fast. 
 By the time he was up, Aimi was crying. “Fuck, I’m so sorry… I’m so bad for you. Oh my God. I’m such a fucking piece of shit. How could I let him do that to you? I’m going to fucking kill him. I’m going to…” By now she was speaking to herself deliriously, her gaping eyes wandering all over as if scanning for a nearby weapon. 
 Eiji was just disappointed. Even when he stood for her she still… she still wanted to go with that guy. That was where her instincts took her. She would be there with him right now if he wanted her there, he thought glumly. And yet her affection for him was written in the intensity of her tears and frustration, and that, too, was undeniable. She was just trying to help. Unfortunately her ideas all lead in the wrong direction.
 Eiji tried to smile and suppressed a groan of pain as he lifted his hand to her shoulder. “I’m okay. I feel better already. Let’s just forget about this.” 
 As soon as the word forget connected with her brain, it worked as a kind of stabilizer and sedative. Forgetting. It was all she wanted to do. But I can’t forget, thought Eiji, knowing he would have to add this thug next to Saburo in a series of mysteries. She bobbed her head and wiped the tears and mucus with her sleeve. “I’m so gross.” She laughed darkly. “God.” 
 It took everything in him to walk the rest of the way to the bus station without tearing up from the pain. It was so bad. Every pharmacy he saw that promised the potential of a painkiller seemed like the most beautiful thing in the world, but he wouldn’t get one until they went their separate ways.
“I promise, I’ll make this up to you” Aimi insisted. “No matter what. You’ll see… It will be worth it.” 
 She gave him a kiss on the cheek as he turned to climb into the bus, and that, too, annoyed him. How many guys has she fucked? And all I get is a kiss on the cheek… It was humiliating. Aimi waved to him energetically as the bus took off, and he pressed his palm against the window in turn. Why am I doing this? It would have been so much easier to jump down to those cliffs. That cunt should have thrown me.
 By nightfall, the painkillers took their effect and Eiji felt okay again. He was too embarrassed to tell his mother about what happened, and as they had dinner they talked about their show and how the character arcs had been going instead. 
 Eiji even ignored his phone as it buzzed, thinking he was getting spammed by his friends. As a rule, Aimi called, but she almost never texted. So when he lifted it up to see that he had not only several messages from her but an image as well, he frowned. What was it this time? 
 He opened the chat to read an apology that must have been at least a thousand words in which she said how she wished she could erase her past and how sorry she was that it kept coming up. [No one should have made this many mistakes this early, but at least now I can be the best I can without any :).] He could almost see that smile of hers for real, and it made him tremble with dread. 
“What are you reading so intently, hmm?” his mom asked, wrapping more noodles around her chopsticks. “Do your friends need you to help them in your game again?” 
“No… It’s Aimi.”
“Oh! How nice, tell her I said hello!” 
 The image loaded and his hand nearly dropped the phone when it finished. It was a picture of her butt taken in the bathroom, completely naked, turned halfway to the camera. It curved away beautifully from the arch of her lower back, the shadowy dimples above it decorating it like some high work of art, each group of muscle and plane inked out by the dim bathroom lighting.
 Eiji gulped emptily and tried to show no arousal despite getting fired it up immediately. [I hope you like it…] the caption said. He certainly did. In fact, he could barely talk or breathe from how much he liked it. 
“Give me a second,” he told his mom abruptly, then got up and went straight to his room. 
 He got in bed and held the phone in front of him, zooming in and caressing the Aimi on screen as if it were the real thing. He wanted to run his fingers down her warm skin and feel the curve of her ass filling out his palm. Just like others have, his mind shot back immediately. 
 His eyes closed and tried to bring the sight to life, but instead of him touching Aimi it was the thug they bumped into today. Jonu. The tattooed hands handling her caressly as she cooed, as helpless as a slave. As he touched himself Eiji could actually feel the pained area of his stomach spreading out, bringing back the realness of it all. That he jerked off to Aimi getting used by the guy that humiliated him. That the same guy must have had his way with his girlfriend countless times. That the hand that knocked him out must have explored every inch of Aimi’s tight and sporty body. After all, wasn’t she willing to give herself to him again today? 
 As the image of her brutalized ass crystallized in his head, he came incredibly hard, moaning weakly as the hot jizz overflowed and came down his fingers and pooled over his stomach.
 Fuck, he finally thought, quickly bringing his pants back up and staring at the ceiling. All of a sudden he felt incredibly depressed and disgusted with himself. With what he came to. He wasn’t even able to help it… It just took hold of him and wouldn’t let go. 
 As for Aimi… he wasn’t even sure what to say anymore. The picture excited him when he first saw it but now it felt dirty and wrong. Their relationship had never been like this, yet now she was doing stuff to try and compensate for all the misery. Offering her body must have seemed like the only real tangible thing she had to trade, and so that’s what she put up to try and earn his forgiveness. 
 That’s just how a slut thinks, he thought, and the first real tears of sadness formed in his eyes. It would’ve been easier if she didn’t love him, but that’s precisely what made it all so difficult. She did love him. He did love her. But Saburo was right As was Jonu. She was used goods. Beyond helping...
 No! I just need to talk to her, he told himself a second later, trying to stay hopeful, grasping at anything that he could. Burying the past is never going to help her get over it. It needed to be unburied, exhumed, and set alight. Then we can move on...