Winter.
Snow always seems to draw itself toward Shinji. This never bothers him, however. The snow's embrace is comforting, familiar even. Paradoxically enough, it even provides him a sort of… warmth.
As always, time comes to return inside. Sparing a final glance to the wintery landscape, a lone snowflake, carried by the breeze, brushes against his lips.
His ears twitch at the sound of a nearly imperceptible whisper, feminine and ethereal.
"Until next time."
For a moment, a feeling of recognition sparks – passing nearly as soon as it came.
"It's only the wind," he murmurs to himself.
"Only the wind…"