Shinji
It's amazing, how long time can seem at times. What is only one second to one person can seem like a million eternities to another. You can sit there for the shortest amount of time, and all the difference it makes is like a tidal wave of suspense, washing over you with a rush of rapid white capped possibilities. What should I do? Would it really make any difference? I'm sure to get killed. Does that matter at all really? Is it worth doing? Does she really mean that much to me? For that long, agonizing moment I was smothered, between the bedclothes of my terror, my anger, my failures, my worthlessness. I really can't make a difference, can I? I've never made enough of one before. I was always just a tool, a weapon. I had no soul, no choices of my own. It was the only choice I had. To take that path, to strike at those named The Enemy, that was really my only choice. It would make no difference. No difference at all. Why would things be different now? I hated that thing. I hated those who used me for it. I hated myself and I hated the world and I hated her for not listening, for not understanding. Why should I bother? Why? What's the point of it all? Everything's so far gone and so hopeless that I could never make a difference no matter how hard I tried. I knew it was hopeless, and I didn't even have the slightest idea of what was going on. I was too far gone in my depression to even notice what was going on before me until it was too late. Then it was like a dull rush of horror. The loud noises and angry voices and the smell of blood only barely penetrated my senses. All I knew was that I felt like shit, lower than shit, and I was being dragged around while people were being killed left and right. It didn't faze me. Not one bit. I've seen it before; hell, I've done enough killing myself, sometimes even unwillingly. Why should this be any different?
But when Misato died, now that got through. For a little while at least. Come to think of it though, I didn't care as much as I probably should have. She was an important person in my life after all. But everything just happened so fast; it seemed like it was just any other thing that had gone wrong in the past several months. Why should her death be any different from the death of Kaworu, or Rei, or my own wretched self when it happens? And Rei didn't even die, really. Just goes to show how insignificant death really is. Why does it matter if anyone dies? All you need is a few dozen spare bodies and you'll be fine. Yeah, I got nailed by that truck pretty good the other day, it's a good thing I had a backup me around huh? It's insane. It's all too much to comprehend. It's just too much to handle. For Christ's sake, I'm only a kid. I don't know how to handle all of this. How can you expect me to want to do anything anymore after all I've been through? How can you expect me, after all the grief and suffering it's caused me, to get back inside that monster again? It's not fair, not fair at all. I've been through too much. I just can't handle it. I thought these things over and over in the blink of an eye, and they all made perfect sense to me. I was sure to die soon anyway, either the soldiers would find me and blow my brains out in a nice red mess all over the containment cage, the building would collapse from all the attacks and I would die in a big avalanche of steel and stone, or I maybe the world would just end and I'd be reduced to dust along with the rest of this God-forsaken planet. For the record, I didn't care what happened, just as long as I didn't have to suffer any more pain before it was all over. I would have been perfectly content to sit and wait for the end to come. To just die and fade and disappear like everything else when it's gone. I could have died that way. I know I could have. I was quite positive that that was what I would do. Just sit here, and wallow, in my own little world as the real one shatters like glass around me. I'm sick of it, I'm sick of it all; there is no reason at all to do anything anymore. I have no reason.
But if I was so sure that I had to reason, then why did I have to keep convincing myself of it? Was there a doubt? Was that tiny little nagging thing deep down inside of me a hope, perhaps? I couldn't really be sure, I don't think I ever really knew what a hope was before. She was still screaming. Her screams were different from the all the others I'd heard during the course of the day. Sure there was fear, there was a lot of fear in her screams. But there was something else as well. Something I never did understand in her. How could she still have it? After all she's been through. I never did know exactly what happened to her, but I did know it was really bad. Maybe even worse than what I had gone through. I couldn't be sure. But I thought that would at least make her understand me. I thought that maybe we could finally connect, after that. But she still ignored me. She still rejected me. I hated her more than ever then. Because she had the nerve to ignore me, to think that my problems were so insignificant compared to hers that she need pay no heed to them, and then go and do this. To scream. Oh how I hated her for what she was doing! For what she had done and was doing to me still. How could she do it? How? I never understood her! Never! Why was she doing it? Why did she still choose to fight? Why did she remain a tool?
Her screams resonated throughout every pore in my body. They rattled my thoughts violently, shattering them in a display of flying shards of emotion. Because they were powerful screams, screams that spoke volumes to me. Much more than those screams that said 'don't kill me. I'm afraid of dying.' These screams, they, they said so much more. They said 'yes, I'm scared, and I'm hopeless. I'm alone, and I don't stand a chance, and I'm going through unnecessary pain, but I can do it. I will die with dignity. I will die giving everything I have to take you with me! I am doing this because I have a place, no matter how insignificant it may seem. I will fight for this tiny glimmer of hope inside me. I will fight!'
How did she do it? What gave her such strength? Stripped bare of my comforting aura of the feeling that what I was doing was really the only thing I could be doing, I felt naked. Without that happy little aura, I was brutally open to all the harsh cracks of Reality's whip. That was why I hated her. Because she was showing me how wrong I was. How wrong I was to just sit here and act as if nothing matters, as if anything I do would be pointless, because though I was probably right about that, I was so very wrong at the same time. Perhaps in the big picture, yes, anything I did would be pointless, but it was possible that I could at least redeem myself in my own eyes. She was fighting, because she had a spark of life and fury in her that she would keep aflame until the bitter end. At least then she would know that she wasted no opportunity, that she did everything she could to change the situation. Shame would be the last thing she died in. Her end would be glorious and powerful. Mine would be pitiful, and insignificant. That horrible, naked shame I felt hurt worse than anything. How could I have done what I had done? Are things really so hopeless? Are they really? Was it because I can't make a difference that things turned out this way? Was it really? Maybe I had made a huge mistake. Maybe I could have saved Misato's life. Maybe, maybe, maybe. What was the point in saying maybe about things that had already happened? Would she become another maybe? Would Asuka die in vain because I was positive I wouldn't be able to do anything to save her? No, she would not die in vain, but I would. I most certainly would. Wouldn't I?
It isn't too late, is it?
Asuka
The pain was God-awful. I never knew that having a spear shoved through your eye could hurt so much. It just goes to show how naive you really are in life. No matter how much you know it will hurt, no matter how much you think it will, no matter how prepared you are for it, you are always surprised at how painful pain really is. I heard screaming. It was desperate screaming, horrified screaming. If I didn't know better I'd tell that person who was screaming so horribly to toughen up, to take their licks and get over it. So you got hurt, big deal. The pain's all a part of the job. If you can't take it then what the hell are you doing here in the first place? Unfortunately the screams were coming from my own mouth. I really hate finding out what I hypocrite I am sometimes.
Fuck, it did hurt a lot though.
It's not even my eye! It's the goddamn robot's eye! Why did they make these things so that you have to feel all the damage inflicted on the metal body outside of you? I found myself fuming at how I would chew out the idiots who designed this thing as soon as I got back to base.
Of course, I knew I wouldn't be returning to the base. This was the end. I was about to die. Time to die together Mama, just like you said. We'll fight and we'll cry and we'll bleed and we'll die. I was hoping that dying a glorious death wouldn't be as painful though. This hurt too much. Way too much. Doubling over, I saw blood flowing into my lap. My red plug- suit made the blood all the brighter. What a beautiful shade. I would die bathed in a wonderful bath of gruesome beauty. It was dripping out of my eye. That I just couldn't comprehend. The robot's eye gets gouged out and mine starts spurting blood all over the place. I think that was when I lost it. When you're inside a 300 foot tall cyborg with about nine other big white lizard-looking things surrounding you, ready to tear you to shreds, and you're eye's been gouged out without really being gouged out causing you to scream your brains out like a scared little girl, keeping your sanity really seems quite unimportant. I snapped. It was time to just go fucking psycho on them.
But then the goddamn battery had to die. Ha, isn't that just the dandiest thing ever? The whole machine just went limp, bent-over backwards with a big huge spear driven right through it's forehead. Well doesn't this just suck? I knew they should have used Energizer. I could do nothing now but watch those stupid lizard things fly overhead like vultures. They were laughing at me. I knew they were. I could hear them in my head. Their idiotic lizard-cackles buzzed in my ears as I screamed and cursed and beat the controls of that piece-of-crap robot while choking on the blood gushing out of my eye. I was so pissed. Life really sucked then. It really did. Those big, ugly grins leered down at me, their defeated opponent, reduced to nothing but a helpless prize for them to rape. I hated those ugly faces. Who would make a bunch of robots so ugly? I wanted them all to die! Why weren't they dead? I killed them all only minutes ago, and they have the nerve to come back to life? Now that's just not fair at all. Resurrection has got to break some kind of rule. There must be a book somewhere, entitled Rules of Giant Robot Combat, and in there it's gotta say that coming back to life after your opponent has killed you is against the rules. I was really delirious. I felt light-headed. Why shouldn't I feel light-headed? I was losing an awful lot of blood. I covered my eye with my hand out of common sense. If you're bleeding you should try to stop it, even if you are about to die, that's just how the world works. Everything in the world seemed really stupid then.
What was I doing? Why was I trying anymore? It's over, the fat lady has sung, the ball is out of the park. Endgame. I was dead meat. But I kept thinking this one thought over and over again. Kill you... I want... to kill you... kill you... kill you...
Over and over again that thought repeated itself in my head.
Kill you... kill you... kill you... kill you... kill you... kill you... kill you... kill you... kill you
I started saying it out loud too.
"Kill you... kill you... kill you... I'm going... to... kill you... kill you... kill you... kill you..."
Don't ask me how, but I got that stupid robot to lift its arm again. It took every minuscule ounce of strength left in my body to hold it up in the air. If I could have stopped my own heart in order to direct that strength towards my arm instead, I would have. I reached up towards those stupid lizard things and dared them to try and kill me. They'd pay then. They'd come down to finish me off, and I'd get them, I could kill them all with just that one arm. I could at least take one of the bastards with me. Come on, I dare you to come down here, I dare you!
Kill... you... kill... you... kill... you... kill... you... kill... you... kill... you...
My vision was getting blurry. I felt sick. There was an awful, nauseating churning in my belly. I knew that if I hadn't devoted all my strength to holding that one arm in the air that I would vomit up a lot of blood. But there was nothing left in my stomach muscles to heave it upward in all its red, cleansing beauty. I pictured myself as a fountain spewing blood, and would have laughed had I not still been telling the lizard- things that I would kill them. I should really have been devoting that energy from my mouth to my arm. The arm was the last thing I had. My final lifeline. I clung to with such fierce, passionate desperation that I really scared myself. It was like watching myself from the outside, and what I saw was an insane girl, with nothing left but her miserable, cut-up arm reaching out in a final attempt to destroy the beasts that destroyed her. I wanted them to come. I wanted them to finish me off so I could get them too. Come on you freaks! Are you afraid of me? Afraid of the poor little girl impaled on the spike? Don't you want to rip her to shreds and taste her beautiful blood?
Then they raised up their spears. Their Spears of Longinus. Oh God. Time froze. It's amazing how long a short moment in time can seem sometimes. This was the end. They weren't going to come in close for the kill; they would finish me from afar, the worthless chicken-shits. I stared defiantly up at them with my one good eye as they hurled the long, sharp lances toward me. That infinite moment in time dragged on endlessly. Every thump of my racing heart pulsed angrily in my head. A final scream quivered in the back of my throat. I faintly heard Maya crying out in horror over the intercom. The end. The end had finally come. I gasped.
If you thought you understood the world, you realize that you never did until you die. If you thought you knew what would happen at any given time and how people would react to things, you are wrong, because the world just throws surprises at you left and right. You don't understand the world until you die, that's just the way it was made. An enigma 'till the end, this life. I thought I understood at the moment of my death. Final understanding, brought upon me into my final breath as the spears pierced my body and ripped my desperate soul away forever.
It was then that Shinji charged out of nowhere, the air rippling around him. Unit-01 roaring ferociously as he cast the most powerful AT field I've ever seen before him, stopping the spears in midair. He saved my life.
The world suddenly made a lot less sense.
It's amazing, how long time can seem at times. What is only one second to one person can seem like a million eternities to another. You can sit there for the shortest amount of time, and all the difference it makes is like a tidal wave of suspense, washing over you with a rush of rapid white capped possibilities. What should I do? Would it really make any difference? I'm sure to get killed. Does that matter at all really? Is it worth doing? Does she really mean that much to me? For that long, agonizing moment I was smothered, between the bedclothes of my terror, my anger, my failures, my worthlessness. I really can't make a difference, can I? I've never made enough of one before. I was always just a tool, a weapon. I had no soul, no choices of my own. It was the only choice I had. To take that path, to strike at those named The Enemy, that was really my only choice. It would make no difference. No difference at all. Why would things be different now? I hated that thing. I hated those who used me for it. I hated myself and I hated the world and I hated her for not listening, for not understanding. Why should I bother? Why? What's the point of it all? Everything's so far gone and so hopeless that I could never make a difference no matter how hard I tried. I knew it was hopeless, and I didn't even have the slightest idea of what was going on. I was too far gone in my depression to even notice what was going on before me until it was too late. Then it was like a dull rush of horror. The loud noises and angry voices and the smell of blood only barely penetrated my senses. All I knew was that I felt like shit, lower than shit, and I was being dragged around while people were being killed left and right. It didn't faze me. Not one bit. I've seen it before; hell, I've done enough killing myself, sometimes even unwillingly. Why should this be any different?
But when Misato died, now that got through. For a little while at least. Come to think of it though, I didn't care as much as I probably should have. She was an important person in my life after all. But everything just happened so fast; it seemed like it was just any other thing that had gone wrong in the past several months. Why should her death be any different from the death of Kaworu, or Rei, or my own wretched self when it happens? And Rei didn't even die, really. Just goes to show how insignificant death really is. Why does it matter if anyone dies? All you need is a few dozen spare bodies and you'll be fine. Yeah, I got nailed by that truck pretty good the other day, it's a good thing I had a backup me around huh? It's insane. It's all too much to comprehend. It's just too much to handle. For Christ's sake, I'm only a kid. I don't know how to handle all of this. How can you expect me to want to do anything anymore after all I've been through? How can you expect me, after all the grief and suffering it's caused me, to get back inside that monster again? It's not fair, not fair at all. I've been through too much. I just can't handle it. I thought these things over and over in the blink of an eye, and they all made perfect sense to me. I was sure to die soon anyway, either the soldiers would find me and blow my brains out in a nice red mess all over the containment cage, the building would collapse from all the attacks and I would die in a big avalanche of steel and stone, or I maybe the world would just end and I'd be reduced to dust along with the rest of this God-forsaken planet. For the record, I didn't care what happened, just as long as I didn't have to suffer any more pain before it was all over. I would have been perfectly content to sit and wait for the end to come. To just die and fade and disappear like everything else when it's gone. I could have died that way. I know I could have. I was quite positive that that was what I would do. Just sit here, and wallow, in my own little world as the real one shatters like glass around me. I'm sick of it, I'm sick of it all; there is no reason at all to do anything anymore. I have no reason.
But if I was so sure that I had to reason, then why did I have to keep convincing myself of it? Was there a doubt? Was that tiny little nagging thing deep down inside of me a hope, perhaps? I couldn't really be sure, I don't think I ever really knew what a hope was before. She was still screaming. Her screams were different from the all the others I'd heard during the course of the day. Sure there was fear, there was a lot of fear in her screams. But there was something else as well. Something I never did understand in her. How could she still have it? After all she's been through. I never did know exactly what happened to her, but I did know it was really bad. Maybe even worse than what I had gone through. I couldn't be sure. But I thought that would at least make her understand me. I thought that maybe we could finally connect, after that. But she still ignored me. She still rejected me. I hated her more than ever then. Because she had the nerve to ignore me, to think that my problems were so insignificant compared to hers that she need pay no heed to them, and then go and do this. To scream. Oh how I hated her for what she was doing! For what she had done and was doing to me still. How could she do it? How? I never understood her! Never! Why was she doing it? Why did she still choose to fight? Why did she remain a tool?
Her screams resonated throughout every pore in my body. They rattled my thoughts violently, shattering them in a display of flying shards of emotion. Because they were powerful screams, screams that spoke volumes to me. Much more than those screams that said 'don't kill me. I'm afraid of dying.' These screams, they, they said so much more. They said 'yes, I'm scared, and I'm hopeless. I'm alone, and I don't stand a chance, and I'm going through unnecessary pain, but I can do it. I will die with dignity. I will die giving everything I have to take you with me! I am doing this because I have a place, no matter how insignificant it may seem. I will fight for this tiny glimmer of hope inside me. I will fight!'
How did she do it? What gave her such strength? Stripped bare of my comforting aura of the feeling that what I was doing was really the only thing I could be doing, I felt naked. Without that happy little aura, I was brutally open to all the harsh cracks of Reality's whip. That was why I hated her. Because she was showing me how wrong I was. How wrong I was to just sit here and act as if nothing matters, as if anything I do would be pointless, because though I was probably right about that, I was so very wrong at the same time. Perhaps in the big picture, yes, anything I did would be pointless, but it was possible that I could at least redeem myself in my own eyes. She was fighting, because she had a spark of life and fury in her that she would keep aflame until the bitter end. At least then she would know that she wasted no opportunity, that she did everything she could to change the situation. Shame would be the last thing she died in. Her end would be glorious and powerful. Mine would be pitiful, and insignificant. That horrible, naked shame I felt hurt worse than anything. How could I have done what I had done? Are things really so hopeless? Are they really? Was it because I can't make a difference that things turned out this way? Was it really? Maybe I had made a huge mistake. Maybe I could have saved Misato's life. Maybe, maybe, maybe. What was the point in saying maybe about things that had already happened? Would she become another maybe? Would Asuka die in vain because I was positive I wouldn't be able to do anything to save her? No, she would not die in vain, but I would. I most certainly would. Wouldn't I?
It isn't too late, is it?
Asuka
The pain was God-awful. I never knew that having a spear shoved through your eye could hurt so much. It just goes to show how naive you really are in life. No matter how much you know it will hurt, no matter how much you think it will, no matter how prepared you are for it, you are always surprised at how painful pain really is. I heard screaming. It was desperate screaming, horrified screaming. If I didn't know better I'd tell that person who was screaming so horribly to toughen up, to take their licks and get over it. So you got hurt, big deal. The pain's all a part of the job. If you can't take it then what the hell are you doing here in the first place? Unfortunately the screams were coming from my own mouth. I really hate finding out what I hypocrite I am sometimes.
Fuck, it did hurt a lot though.
It's not even my eye! It's the goddamn robot's eye! Why did they make these things so that you have to feel all the damage inflicted on the metal body outside of you? I found myself fuming at how I would chew out the idiots who designed this thing as soon as I got back to base.
Of course, I knew I wouldn't be returning to the base. This was the end. I was about to die. Time to die together Mama, just like you said. We'll fight and we'll cry and we'll bleed and we'll die. I was hoping that dying a glorious death wouldn't be as painful though. This hurt too much. Way too much. Doubling over, I saw blood flowing into my lap. My red plug- suit made the blood all the brighter. What a beautiful shade. I would die bathed in a wonderful bath of gruesome beauty. It was dripping out of my eye. That I just couldn't comprehend. The robot's eye gets gouged out and mine starts spurting blood all over the place. I think that was when I lost it. When you're inside a 300 foot tall cyborg with about nine other big white lizard-looking things surrounding you, ready to tear you to shreds, and you're eye's been gouged out without really being gouged out causing you to scream your brains out like a scared little girl, keeping your sanity really seems quite unimportant. I snapped. It was time to just go fucking psycho on them.
But then the goddamn battery had to die. Ha, isn't that just the dandiest thing ever? The whole machine just went limp, bent-over backwards with a big huge spear driven right through it's forehead. Well doesn't this just suck? I knew they should have used Energizer. I could do nothing now but watch those stupid lizard things fly overhead like vultures. They were laughing at me. I knew they were. I could hear them in my head. Their idiotic lizard-cackles buzzed in my ears as I screamed and cursed and beat the controls of that piece-of-crap robot while choking on the blood gushing out of my eye. I was so pissed. Life really sucked then. It really did. Those big, ugly grins leered down at me, their defeated opponent, reduced to nothing but a helpless prize for them to rape. I hated those ugly faces. Who would make a bunch of robots so ugly? I wanted them all to die! Why weren't they dead? I killed them all only minutes ago, and they have the nerve to come back to life? Now that's just not fair at all. Resurrection has got to break some kind of rule. There must be a book somewhere, entitled Rules of Giant Robot Combat, and in there it's gotta say that coming back to life after your opponent has killed you is against the rules. I was really delirious. I felt light-headed. Why shouldn't I feel light-headed? I was losing an awful lot of blood. I covered my eye with my hand out of common sense. If you're bleeding you should try to stop it, even if you are about to die, that's just how the world works. Everything in the world seemed really stupid then.
What was I doing? Why was I trying anymore? It's over, the fat lady has sung, the ball is out of the park. Endgame. I was dead meat. But I kept thinking this one thought over and over again. Kill you... I want... to kill you... kill you... kill you...
Over and over again that thought repeated itself in my head.
Kill you... kill you... kill you... kill you... kill you... kill you... kill you... kill you... kill you
I started saying it out loud too.
"Kill you... kill you... kill you... I'm going... to... kill you... kill you... kill you... kill you..."
Don't ask me how, but I got that stupid robot to lift its arm again. It took every minuscule ounce of strength left in my body to hold it up in the air. If I could have stopped my own heart in order to direct that strength towards my arm instead, I would have. I reached up towards those stupid lizard things and dared them to try and kill me. They'd pay then. They'd come down to finish me off, and I'd get them, I could kill them all with just that one arm. I could at least take one of the bastards with me. Come on, I dare you to come down here, I dare you!
Kill... you... kill... you... kill... you... kill... you... kill... you... kill... you...
My vision was getting blurry. I felt sick. There was an awful, nauseating churning in my belly. I knew that if I hadn't devoted all my strength to holding that one arm in the air that I would vomit up a lot of blood. But there was nothing left in my stomach muscles to heave it upward in all its red, cleansing beauty. I pictured myself as a fountain spewing blood, and would have laughed had I not still been telling the lizard- things that I would kill them. I should really have been devoting that energy from my mouth to my arm. The arm was the last thing I had. My final lifeline. I clung to with such fierce, passionate desperation that I really scared myself. It was like watching myself from the outside, and what I saw was an insane girl, with nothing left but her miserable, cut-up arm reaching out in a final attempt to destroy the beasts that destroyed her. I wanted them to come. I wanted them to finish me off so I could get them too. Come on you freaks! Are you afraid of me? Afraid of the poor little girl impaled on the spike? Don't you want to rip her to shreds and taste her beautiful blood?
Then they raised up their spears. Their Spears of Longinus. Oh God. Time froze. It's amazing how long a short moment in time can seem sometimes. This was the end. They weren't going to come in close for the kill; they would finish me from afar, the worthless chicken-shits. I stared defiantly up at them with my one good eye as they hurled the long, sharp lances toward me. That infinite moment in time dragged on endlessly. Every thump of my racing heart pulsed angrily in my head. A final scream quivered in the back of my throat. I faintly heard Maya crying out in horror over the intercom. The end. The end had finally come. I gasped.
If you thought you understood the world, you realize that you never did until you die. If you thought you knew what would happen at any given time and how people would react to things, you are wrong, because the world just throws surprises at you left and right. You don't understand the world until you die, that's just the way it was made. An enigma 'till the end, this life. I thought I understood at the moment of my death. Final understanding, brought upon me into my final breath as the spears pierced my body and ripped my desperate soul away forever.
It was then that Shinji charged out of nowhere, the air rippling around him. Unit-01 roaring ferociously as he cast the most powerful AT field I've ever seen before him, stopping the spears in midair. He saved my life.
The world suddenly made a lot less sense.