This was originally written in 2007 for that year's WAFFathon. However, due to finishing in last place and not being very WAFFY, I never got around to uploading it. I want this in my account's tomb, so I'm putting it up.
If you read it, I hope you enjoy. Everything is the same as when I uploaded it to the contest in 2007. -Himonky
RISK
An Evangelion WAFFathon 2007 Entry
Disclaimer: I never will, nor have, owned Evangelion. That exclusive right belongs to Hideaki Anno and Gainax.
Author's Disclaimer/Note: Hopefully, it'll make you think. I'll be upfront about this right now; this is not your typical WAFF fic. However, if you can get over this aspect of it, I think it does have something special to offer. Enjoy.
"You know, I can feel it."
"It?"
"All," I say as I gaze down on an Earth emptied by Third Impact, "Everything. Everyone. All, all at once."
I can feel her eyes pricking me in the back, dissecting me for the meaning of my words. I smile weakly at the thought, since she already has whatever meaning they have. I mean what I say in this case. She asks, "Are you sure you're alright?"
"Who said I was sure . . ? Who thought I was alright?" I whisper to myself, "Because, I'd have known if someone else did . . . unless it was you."
"Shinji?" she asks apprehensively.
I turn and face her, keeping my weak smile alive. She looks exactly as I remember her, complete with lab coat and perfect brown hair. It's almost as if she hasn't changed at all . . . which is of course true. My father's memories proved that to me. "It's been a long time . . . mother."
With just that one word all of the weight on her shoulders seems to vanish. Her concerned frown is exchanged for a beaming, radiant smile. "Not as long as you think it's been Shinji. I've been watching you," she seems to expect me to be shocked at this, "from inside of the eva." Saw that coming.
"No . . . it's been longer than you can imagine."
It's sobering to realize that I can't keep this to myself, but she really has to know. According to what father and Keel think she doesn't know all that's happened to us. Breaking it to her will not be the nicest thing I've ever done, but then it's not like she's had to put up with nearly as much as the rest of us have today.
"Since this morning I've lived over a billion lifetimes. One for every man, women and child who formerly lived on Earth. Each one ending the same way, with Third Impact."
"Lived their lifetimes . . ." she whispers intently, her voice just loud enough for me to hear, "You mean you've seen everything that they've done? Everyone?"
"Everyone," I whisper grittily, "Rei, Misato, Asuka . . . father." I shiver uncomfortably and close my eyes, turning my face off to the left, as certain memories involving my father's more . . . intimate moments with my mother come to mind. "And not just seen their lives, but lived them. I've been privy to their darkest moments and feelings, and they've seen mine as well. Everyone . . . except for you.
"It feels wrong, mother. I'm talking to you now, for what's practically the first time in my living memory, but . . . well, between father, Professor Fuyutsuki, Keel, grandma and everyone else who knew you, I know just what to say to you. I know how to make you happy . . . and sad too. I feel like I'm cheating, since you can't do that to me. Even all of your insight into my mind from Eva can't possibly compete with what I've seen today.
"I gave birth and raised you as Grandma Ikari, sheltering and watering the seeds of your great gifts, doing my part to help you grow. When you went off to college, it became my job as Professor Fuyutsuki to give you all the tools necessary for you to flourish and reach for the sun, while never allowing you to overreach quite yet. As your lover Gendo Rokobungi and husband Gendo Ikari, it was a mutual relationship where our love was all that was necessary to keep the world existing, even against the impossible odds we knew we'd have to face. Then, it memories that were once lost even to me, I saw how you nurtured and cared for a new life in me, Shinji.
"Yes, mother, I saw all of this . . . and understood what they all understood. Through their interactions with you I have gained a near complete understanding of you. An understanding that, despite all of its vastness, still pales in comparison to what I've seen of others . . . and others have seen of me.
"I can't help but feel violated. Everyone has their own little secrets. Lying to someone else would be a large one, but . . . well, let me tell you, everyone, and I mean everyone, picks there nose when they think no one is looking. It's not a big deal; it's just sort of embarrassing for anyone else to see that. We never expect anyone else—let alone everyone else—to find out these sorts of things about us.
"And I can only feel worse for certain other people . . . every little white lie has been thrown into the open. Every bigger lie as well, which I suppose is a good thing in certain situations, but the magnitude . . . People have had their whole lives destroyed today, in more ways than one.
"Worst of all is the emotion. When you look from someone else's eyes and see what they think about you, what they expect of you, how they feel about you . . . it's just something that was never meant to be seen. I'd always wanted to know what everyone else thought about me, to see the me that exists in their minds, but now I wish I'd never asked . . .
"I was a fool to have asked . . . these things that I've seen have ripped away all the little blankets of protection on all of us. It's a very cold world, and people are very mean, once you see the naked truth of it all."
I can't help but let a few tears form in my eyes. Staunchly stating the facts has never been the thing for me, especially when they are as bleak as these. I've had billions of lifetimes to get over these things, but saying it straight out like this . . . I just can't control myself.
A trillion lifetimes could've passed, and I know I would still be crying right now. Probably harder, if anything.
But apparently I'm not the only one. As I look up, I see my mother quivering, her face coated in the glaze of tears. Her mouth is ajar, but only by a few small centimeters. I've only seen this sort of expression in a few lifetimes, and it has never been followed by less than a complete breakdown.
I take a hesitant step forward and reach my left arm out uncertainly, my own tears forgotten in the face of her imminent collapse. My life will be over relatively soon in the grand scheme of things, but she is destined to live forever within the Eva. To see my mother go mad before such a sentence has even begun would be unbearable for more than just me.
When she speaks, I stop all my motion towards her, as her voice is so gasping and unstable that I fear it will shatter if I make a pin drop of noise.
"I only ever wanted the best for you Shinji . . ." she stops to sob softly, though in such a way that I never doubt that she will continue, "To give you a world where you could live, after all of this has been finished with. That was always the goal . . . my goal . . . just to fight my way through the angels and this, and then to finally have a place for you to just be happy . . . But now look at what I've done! The very goal we set out to achieve has been a lie . . ."
She's not finished, but it's enough. I can't stand another moment of her destroying herself because of the things I had to say to her. I can't stand another moment of her destroying me even more than I already have been.
I dart forward and grab her at her shoulders. Startled, she looks at me with a mix of shock and continued misery. Our eyes meet, and I dive into what I have to say to finish this.
"No mother!" I cry passionately, "It's not your fault. It's ours, but not yours . . . it's all ours."
And I pull her tight to me, hugging her with all of my might, never wanting to let my one last lifeline go. Maybe it's instinct, maybe it's because she's my mother, but thankfully she returns my embrace with all the love and feeling that I know I'm giving to her.
"It's all been our fault."
I'm awoken by the sound of lapping waves on sand and the strangest site I've ever seen. Rei's bloated, fractured head is slowly sinking towards the horizon, a hazy halo of blood encircles the globe and the sea at which my legs are pointed towards is the unmistakable red of LCL. And, an almost natural occurrence at this point in my life, Rei is floating over the red ocean. The only surprising part is that rather than be naked, she's in her school uniform.
My two options are to break into idiotic laughter, or fight valiantly and manage to keep my face like a brick wall. With an effort, I manage to do the latter, though I take note that my eyes are the size of saucers.
I blink and Rei is gone. Once upon a time I would have assumed I had imagined seeing her, but after living her life . . . well, now I know how she got on and off of that bridge.
Sitting up, I feel some lingering bruises from my flight of the JSSDF with Misato. My stomach is unusually tightened, and my right arm is sore, but overall I really don't feel that bad. Considering all that's happened that is.
It's when I glance back where Rei was that I see the outline. I freeze, fear clenching my body uncontrollably. Even before turning to look at her, I already know what to expect. Asuka is here, and judging by the steady rise and fall of her chest she's alive.
How and why aren't important right now . . . the only question that matters is what. What would she want?
I've lived everything she's been through. I emotionally felt, at least as much as I saw, my mother's suicide. I swore never to cry again. I grew attached to the romantic hero I saw within Kaji, only to have him treat me like the child I had promised myself I would never be. I fought from within Unit 02, my loyal and faithful war machine, against the angels and all odds. I broke the promise that had guided all of my actions since I was four years old. I heard that idiot say that Kaji was gone. I held a long, sharp shard of glass . . .
I am Asuka Langley Soryu at least as much as the girl lying next to me is. Or at least, I was at one time. My mind focuses on every aspect of her life as I ask myself one all essential question. I need to know if she can stand to be near me, Shinji Ikari.
The more I think, the more it seems to be towards the negative. While at first she may have been nice to me, in her own little way, and she had eventually adapted to making me . . . something, by the end all she had truly felt was complete loathing for me.
Yeah, she definitely doesn't want to be by me. All she would want right now is a quick, simple way to finish it all off.
No glass is to be found. Just my hands upon her slender neck.
She's awake now, and we've locked our eyes. I can feel myself, with the very clarity I know I should have felt before I began this, drawing understanding from her eyes, even relief that I'm doing this for her. She's accepting death with the same deep embrace I gave to my mother.
At least, that's what I see at first. Only a few seconds later I can already begin to see doubt through her soul's windows. But is it the fog of death, some sort of primal instinct to fight for life, or . . . an actual will to live?
I've come too far to stop now, but . . . even if there's only a small chance of her wanting to live, shouldn't I let her decide? Better safe . . . no. Too far now. I tear my eyes off of her eyes and star off into the destroyed landscape before me.
Doubt continues to gnaw at me, but I can fight if off now. As long as I don't have to look at her as I do it, I'll manage to finish this.
If she wants to die, why is she touching me? Why is she touching my cheek with that frail, beautiful hand of hers?
I can't be wrong . . . I just can't be. It'd be the worst screw up I've made yet.
I have to be wrong. Oh, how many things have I forgotten to think about? How bad was dying, but how good was realizing that my mother was still alive within my Unit 02? How much had I hated Shinji Ikari, but how badly had I needed him to be there for me at the same time? How had it felt to hear Kaji was dead, but how had it felt to really feel like I was in love with him? How bad was yesterday . . . but how good could today be?
And . . . she's more than just her memories now, I realize. I'm not the only one who lived everyone's lives, everyone did. Including Asuka. She lived Misato's life, Rei's, her father's . . . mine.
She's seen my side of how she has treated me now, and I know that she would feel bad about some of the things she's done to me when confronted with them. Perhaps she will be angry in classical Asuka style. Perhaps she'll be unhappy with having to continue living with me. But, from living her life and just having known her for the last year, I know that she'll want to make amends for what's been done.
Besides, there are alternatives to the two of us staying glued to one another.
It's funny to think that just minutes ago, or what seems like just minutes ago, I was bemoaning how I felt like a spy, able to see everyone's lives in perfect detail. Now that I can't see what they're thinking or feeling, I already miss it. I miss the power to see how she felt. It would've made things much easier when deciding whether or not to kill her.
I'd like to think that after living her life I'd have learned this lesson already, but I guess I haven't. Asuka's not one to let someone else make decisions for her. She's supported herself emotionally since she was five, never liking it when someone else made a decision for her. And yet, here I was, trying to do just that. I convinced myself that I understood how she felt, but even in that I was wrong. I still don't understand her . . .
Thinking ending her life is my decision . . . How disgusting.
The two of us are seated across from one another, about ten feet apart. Our eyes have not met since that first time early this morning. I stare at the ground a few feet in front of me, lost in thought.
It's been like this all day. We won't look at or even talk to one another. I guess the experience of Third Impact changed things, just not enough for things to be okay.
I know her life, and she knows mine. We have literally nothing to talk about now. Having lived her life, I know her reasoning behind every action. There's no ambiguity for me to question her about. I literally can't pry into her life, even if I wanted to. The only consolation is that she's in the same position as I am.
Having lived her life makes things awkward as well. That same cheating feeling is present, though I know her thought process is different than it was in her first life. I know I've changed as well, at least in some ways. Third Impact changed us and yet we're still the same.
We could strike up a wonderful conversation right now. It could be about meta-physics, gardening or psychology. From Third Impact, we've learned everything known about all of these. But what's the point? Any conversation will just be a cruel substitute. We'd both say exactly what the other would want us to say, but neither of us would benefit from it in the least.
If I wanted to hurt her, I could bring up her mother, father, Kaji or her failure at piloting. If I wanted her to smile, I could make a joke about how I, or both of us, were both idiots before. If I wanted to help her . . .
I've been trying to think of a solution, but only one option comes to mind. And this doesn't sound like much of an option at all . . . but maybe it would be for the best. For both of us.
Without much trouble, surprisingly, I manage to turn my head up to look at Asuka. She must see my head move, because her head comes up at the exact same time.
I'm not looking her directly in the eye, or even directly at one part of her. It doesn't feel like her eyes are boring into any specific part of me either. As I sit here, I see all of her. I'm taking her in; bandages, red hair, blue eyes and all. I want the memory to last, because this instant is special.
Unsteadily, we both stand up. Now our eyes do meet, her's almost seeming to ask for my acceptance. I suppose my own must be asking the exact same question, because I can see that she's come to the same conclusion as I have. I wish there was another way . . . but I know this is it.
And as we walk away from one another, I think we both can't help but smile a smile of understanding. This is the only way it can be, the option that everyone else will chose when they come back. Now that the blankets of protection have been ripped away, it's impossible for humans to live together anymore.
It doesn't make me happy by any means, but what has to be done has to be done. Things will be better this way, I just know it.
I wake up when the sun comes up. I rise from my bed, walk over to one of the walls of my cave and pick a spot away from the rest of the marks. Here, I draw a tally mark using some berries.
My day keeping duties done, I leave the cave. My destination is not far and I have no reason to hurry.
After a little bit of searching I find a flock of pheasants standing in the open and a rock. With barely any aim, I hurl the rock into the pack. They are always so thick that only a little luck is needed to hit one of them.
The flock usually lands a few yards away from the downed pheasant. It is a simple matter to take two more of them down, completing my hunting for the day.
I return to my cave with the dead pheasants. I leave them there while I go get firewood. Upon my return I skin and roast the meat. I drop the entrails, feathers and burned wood in the same location.
Not too much later I leave the cave again, this time for a much longer journey. In order to survive when the birds migrate I have to depend upon the wheat that now grows naturally here. The rest of my time for the day will be spent walking around the area I have planted in.
Fear does not drive me, nor any special insecurity. This is simply what must be done to survive. Thinking about it is not necessary, only making sure that everything gets done.
At twilight I return to my cave and eat what remains of the morning's pheasants. At nightfall I sleep. My last and first acknowledgement of the day is always that everything went exactly as I had planned it. Exactly as it has gone for the last several years.
I wake up when the sun comes up. I rise from my bed, walk over to one of the walls of my cave and pick a spot away from the rest of the marks. Here, I draw a tally . . .
"During those years, my mind became more and more numb and repressed. Persistent time did what I had always thought to be impossible; ease the memories of my, now previous, life.
In China, where I had traveled to after I left Asuka, I found solitude. At least, at first it was solitude. Eventually it became a state of simply existing again, like I had once done at my teachers. It got to the point where I didn't even feel or think about anything, I just did it. I think, perhaps, that I was too scared to think about what had happened during Instrumentality. So, I ran away again, into nothingness this time.
I could write of this time in my life, but to be honest I don't remember much of it. Let me just stress this; every day was the exact same. I did nothing one day that I had not done the day before. In this way I was able to exist without thinking, without feeling and without waking. Looking back, every day was like a dream I had already had.
Though I won't admit to hating it, it should also be said that I didn't love it. I just was."
-Excerpt.
—-
At first, nothing registers because I cannot possibly be awake. The sun hasn't risen yet. I've never been awake during the night that I can remember.
Nevertheless, my wakefulness persists despite the proof that I am asleep. I shiver and crawl deeper into my cave as the sound repeats itself.
Having adapted to the sounds of the plain long ago, I now tune out most sounds. But this sound triggers something, since it's different from anything I've heard since . . .
It's human, in the Chinese language and it sounds like a girl. This realization alone startles me to a higher state of awareness then I've felt in quite some time. Lately, only the rare major emergency for my welfare had brought me to this point.
I've seen dead pheasants that I hadn't killed around my border, and once or twice I had thought I'd seen human like shapes far off in the distance, but to hear human speech again . . . It's been a long time.
Hearing a human voice after all this time is surprising and somewhat scary . . . hearing another, this time male, peaks my interest. Two people, together, carrying on a conversation. I don't believe my ears.
But it's there, it really is. It's muted and distant somehow, but it's definitely there. I stand up and hesitantly take a step out of my cave, the sound pulling me onwards. How can I have never missed this sound?
Time seems to lose its meaning as I struggle towards the speaker's location. They can't be that far away, it can't be that much farther until I will be able to specifically make out what they're saying.
Finally, a building made of a dark, aged wood, in which there seem to be numerous holes, comes into view. Coming through said holes, and a few windows, is a penetrating light that can only come from an electric light bulb.
Despite how close I am, I can't quite hear what it is the speakers are saying. One thing is for sure though; I have finally reached my location. Whoever is speaking is inside.
I cautiously approach, attempting to look in one of the windows. Unfortunately, they have pulled the blinds. The small holes in the side of the building quickly prove to be too small to see into, which leaves me with only one option: the front door.
The pre-Impact Shinji Ikari buried deep within me screams at me to run away. I don't know who these people are, and they may mean to hurt me.
The post-Impact instinct tells me to turn around and go back to the cave. It says to ignore the voices and feelings I feel regarding them, that they're unnecessary and will only get in the way of my survival.
My natural born curiosity tells me to push open the door and find out what I've been missing out on for so long. I want to know how they can stand to be in the same room together after what they must've seen during the Impact. How two people can have anything to talk about. How they can trust the other not to make the same mistakes they made in their past life.
All things I had once written off as impossible. But now . . . if two people can talk, then anything may be possible.
So I find myself about to throw the door thrown open, but pausing. There, after the intense moment of Shinji vs. self that had occurred within me, is a hole just big enough that I can see through clearly. I press my eye against it, sweeping my vision across the room.
There is a wooden table on one side of the room, with four antique looking chairs around it. Sitting in one of them, a smile spread wide across his face, is Jeremy Bith.
Jeremy is from Iowa, though how he got to China is beyond me. Throughout his whole entire pre-Impact life he advocated patriotism and isolation for the United States, for it to not give up any of its power to the UN or any other foreign power. He'd been a staunch opponent of NERV from the start, claiming that America should be spending the billions given to NERV on maintaining its own defense, not Japan's.
He'd have hated to come to China for any reason. But the smile on his face says that he has no qualms with being here. If anything he seems delighted at . . . something. His eyes and smile are both leveled at about stomach level, at something in the left corner where I cannot see.
Every second I look at Jeremy makes me think more, but with my eye blocking the hole I still can't hear what he or the woman he must be looking at are saying. I have to press my ear drum against the hole, closing my eyes to better identify what they're saying.
"You found a lot today."
It's Chinese spoken like only a true Chinese can speak it. Judging by the tone and voice, I can narrow who it is speaking down to a few hundred people. Not very helpful, but at least now I know a lot of people who it isn't.
Jeremy responds back in his native English. "Yeah, the pheasants are really easy to catch. Ever since the number of humans decreased their habitat has been flourishing, so I guess they've all gotten fat and lazy. They don't even try to run when you kill the one right next to them."
"I see. Well, that'll be good for all three of us then. It's been a while since either of us was able to eat very well."
Jeremy smiles a different smile, his mischievous smile which he had always saved for his wife Patricia. "Oh, come on. You're not going to put on weight again, are you?"
The woman laughs merrily, "I hope not. It took me so long to lose it the last time, I'll never get rid of it again if I put it back on!"
I sit back and replay their conversation in my mind. It all seems like everyday stuff, things that Jeremy and Patricia might have talked about in their home in Des Moines. At least, until Jeremy found out during Third Impact that Patricia had been sleeping with his next door neighbor. After Jeremy found that out, I can't see the two of them talking like this . . .
This isn't Patricia, that's for sure. And who's the third person they're talking about? I glance around me in a paranoid fashion, as if I'm expecting said person to come out of nowhere at my mere thought, but all I can see is snow as far as I can see.
Wait a second, when did it start snowing? I've got to get out of here, or else I'll be buried . . . but I can still hear the two of them talking inside of the house. I press my ear back to the whole and listen for more.
"How long's it been? Should be just a few weeks short of nine months, right?" Jeremy asks, still smiling.
"Around that long, I think," the woman responds, followed by a brief patting noise and something that sounds like rubbing. "Soon."
"And then, off to the city, right?"
"Yeah, though I still think Beijing would be the best choice . . ."
"Nah," I can tell Jeremy is shaking his head because he would always do that after saying 'nah', "Tokyo-3 is the best option, for sure."
City? Tokyo-3? Impossible . . .
My mind drifts for only a second, but when I start listening again it's to head Jeremy say, "I can feel its heart beat."
The woman laughs, and I can tell she's standing right next to Jeremy now. I switch my eye in for my ear, hoping to figure out who the mystery woman is.
Her name is Sun Sabina, and she's from Western Tibet. Her family was devout Christians, her father and mother both attempted to get involved in the Tienanmen Square protests, and she had always loved cheeseburgers and chocolate. Very similar to Patricia, except that Sun had always been much more . . . loyal than Patricia.
This runs through my mind in one instant, and in the next I take in the marvelous bulge in Sun's stomach. Sun had in fact been rather fat at one time, and been teased for it by nearly everyone outside of her family, but this is a much leaner fat than before. This is fat as in pregnant.
Old/Newest Shinji finally wins out. Even just a glimpse of that is enough to get me out of here.
When I awake back in my cave the next day, I rise and prepare to repeat the same actions that I have always done. But, right before I draw a new tally mark on my wall, I hesitate. The part of me that drove me to listen at the door last night is now forcing me to stop and think about what happened.
I don't remember how I made it back to my bed, but I know I must have at some point. Once I saw that Sun was pregnant my mind went onto autopilot.
Sun was pregnant . . . and, if what they were saying could be trusted, she was already close to giving birth. But how could that be? There was no way that they could stand each other for that long . . .
When I had left Asuka, we had both agreed in silence that there was no way for anyone to live together. The strain of having seen the Impact drove us to be unable to interact with others. I had felt sure that there was no way for anyone who had seen the other person's life to be able to stay with them. Seeing Sun pregnant like that had proven us both wrong, and caused me to run as fast as I could.
But maybe Jeremy and Sun has just been an exception. After all, Jeremy had been in a disastrous relationship that would've ended with Third Impact. Maybe, after being hurt by Patricia and a period of being alone and healing, he had needed someone to reach out to. For him, that made a certain amount of sense.
But then, why Sun? She wasn't particularly needy or emotionally harmed. She'd been teased a little for being fat and her parents had been roughed up by some Chinese government goons once or twice, but nothing that convinced me that she wouldn't be able to live without someone else.
Rather than create a new tally mark, I break my routine. I draw a circle around yesterday's tally, because I want to remember it. Last night was an important night. A different night.
I walk a well worn path searching for pheasant. It surprises me how deep a basin I've created just from walking this every day for so long.
That last thought makes me walk slower, with an important question. What year is it? How old am I? I've kept careful track of the days since I arrived here, but I've never cared to actually find out how many marks I've made. Projecting a mental map of my cave in my head, it surprises me how many marks I remember. Just one, the same one I just circled.
I wish I had a mirror. I'm suddenly afraid my hair may have turned white. Or perhaps it's not been nearly as long as I thought it was . . . It's impossible to tell. I could feel around my body and find out, or count the tallies on the cave wall . . . but it's better not to know.
I look down at my hands. Are these the same ones I used to squeeze in my plug suit? They're covered in scars, blisters and calluses from hunting pheasants and harvesting wheat. But that's not the worst. The worst is that I can't remember how I got a single one of them.
What can I remember about my life here? Before last night, what was my last memory? I speed up my walk towards the hunting grounds, afraid of the answer I already know. My last memory is the first day I lived here, when I put my routine into effect.
When I arrive at the hunting grounds, I'm amazed by the number of pheasants. This must be prime breeding ground, because there are practically a thousand of them. Jeremy must be right; with decreased hunting by humans they've been able to flourish.
There are also a whole lot of rocks. Picking several up and taking a few pheasants down is not difficult. I've had a lot of practice, even if I have never thought about it.
Returning to the cave and then finding wood nearby is also simple. Cooking and eating the pheasants doesn't take long.
Now it's time for my long walk around the wheat fields. The path here is, if anything, better worn than the path to the hunting grounds. I can envision my feet tramping through it relentlessly.
Not long into the walk I come to a startling decision. This is boring. And I still have most of the day left, with only this same walking to look forward to. How did I do this? It's almost sick to think about it.
After much longer, I have to stop. I turn off of the worn path and head back in the direction of my cave. Blazing a new trail is hardly easy, but it's better than retracing the steps I've made for the last X days.
I return to the cave, and am now presented with another question. What am I going to do here? Glancing around my barren sleeping area, I see only the pile of leaves I use as a bed, a pile of crushed berries, my fire pit and the tally marks on the wall.
Sitting here, thinking about all that has been, will be unbearable. But where can I go? Who can I go to?
With a flash of insight, I turn and look West, in the direction that I am certain Sun and Jeremy's cabin is. I could go find them. They are out there, waiting for their baby to be born. And then, Jeremy said that they will travel to Tokyo-3.
Tokyo-3 . . . people living together, in a city. The very idea of such a thing existing again shocked me last night, but sounds vaguely promising right now. That people can live together after so long . . .
I turn towards the East. If I am to leave this plot of land that has been my security for so long, this is the way I should go. While the temptation to go meet Sun and Jeremy is strong, my urge to return to my onetime home is even stronger. If this city exists again, then someone from my old life has got to be there . . . maybe more than one person. I want to see them again, to talk to them and find out how they are.
But can I live with people again? After all this time, might I have forgotten how much of a pain dealing with others can be? After being alone for so long, is my urge to talk to someone—anyone—overcoming my rational side?
The answer to any of these questions could be no, yes, and yes, but thinking for even just a few minutes makes me realize that these aren't the questions I should be asking. Sure, I've managed to survive here for a long time, but what have I been surviving for?
My purpose here . . . has been to exist. Until now. I've existed to make it to today, when I feel like I'm ready to leave again. It seems so true . . .
I sink onto my bed and bury my head into my arms. It's thinking like this that made me quit doing so for so long. But it still needs . . . No, has to be done. Now that I'm awake like this, I can't go back to the way I was before.
If Sun and Jeremy can get along, is it possible that I can too?
Everyone needs something to live for. A reason to wake up in the morning. Or, in certain cases, someone.
I'm sick of not living. After what I saw between Sun and Jeremy, I need something more than what I've had. The way they acted towards one another reminded me of the thousands of people who lived happy lives. Who probably live happy lives now.
One name that comes to mind when I think about happy lives is Ellas Dranborn. While little Ellas was only five at the time of Third Impact, he had already lived a busy and productive life. As well as attending kindergarten, every week Ellas had gone with his mother to volunteer at the local retirement home, spending time with a different senior citizen each visit.
Sometimes all Ellas had to do to make someone's day better was to go in and hug them. Old women would have the time of their lives fawning over him for an hour, missing or wishing they had grandchildren of their own to do so with. Ancient seeming memories, of having children of their own, were often awakened by such a cute little boy rocking in their arms.
The men were usually a little less sensitive to Ellas, at least on the outside. One former GI had found Ellas to be a very attentive listener for his war stories, and attempted to pull him aside to listen whenever he could get a chance. For his part, Ellas would do his best to look attentive while he was talked to, but found more interest in examining the man's shiny medals than the barely remembered and often randomly added to tales of heroism.
But, watching Ellas' life during Third Impact, nothing was more heart-warming than the time he had spent with the Andersons. Bob and Mimi were both well into their eighties, and fading quickly. Bob was on an air supply tank, and Mimi had contracted Alzheimer's Disease. Late one night, Bob had suffered a stroke and been put into intensive care. He was not expected to make it through the night, and Mimi was literally falling apart at his side in grief.
The retirement home had contacted the Dranborn family and explained to them that Mrs. Anderson had been sterile from birth. While both of the Anderson's had always wanted to have children, they had never been able to. Now, on his death bed, Bob was calling out for his non-existent son, his mind apparently unraveling along with his body.
Ellas had accepted the challenge with a strength and determination beyond his age. He had been immediately been taken to the hospital and led to Mr. Anderson's room. With Mimi playing along for her dying husband, Ellas had pretended to be Bob's non-existent son. While Bob had passed away at 2:15 in the morning, he had done so with an uncharacteristically happy smile on his face and a much more relaxed appearance than he usually had. He had finally gotten the one thing he had never had.
Ellas had felt sad that Bob had to go, and that Mimi had to cry. He had hugged her, patted her on the back and told her that Bob was in a better place now. Ellas' childlike innocence instilling into Mimi a real feeling of belief. It had been exactly what she needed to hear.
I'd learned from Ellas that it's easy to be nice, even when there's nothing coming for you in return. I'd learned from Mimi Anderson that, even when someone doesn't ask for anything, you can reward their good deeds. When she passed away, she left her whole inheritance to the Dranborn family. Ellas hadn't even come to know it yet, but his noble actions had paid for his college education before he was even going to school for more than just a morning.
And now, with lessons like these in mind, I'm finally ready to go look for people again.
I know that people can live together now, even after all that happened during Third Impact. Jeremy and Sun spoke of a city, and it's time I left for it. It won't be easy, and I don't even have a guarantee of things being better there, but any chance is worth it.
Tokyo-3. It seems strange that I'd ever go back there, but I need to do it. I want to know what happened to Misato, Asuka, Rei, Touji, Kensuke and my father. I need to know if they've found what Sun and Jeremy found. I hope they're happy. Maybe, if I'm lucky, they will be. Hopefully, they'll be glad to see me. I know that I'll be glad to see them.
Once I get there I'll be able to find what's been missing. I'll start to live again, I just know it. But for now, all that matters is the journey.
When I came to my cave in China in the first place, the journey from Tokyo-3 had taken me a month. Much of this journey had been simply wandering Westward, looking for a location I could try to make my new home. The weather had been fairly good, since spring lasted year round, and food was plentiful since the pheasant were just returning from their migrations. One night I had slept in a cave, and then on a whim I decided to stay there because it had everything I needed.
There had been no reason to stop, at least right at first. My thoughts had still been active for a while, and I had continuously dwelt on who would return and what would happen. I had felt that Misato, Touji, Kensuke and my father would all return. I had not known if Rei or Kowaru could, but I had hoped they would, even if I were to never see them again.
One night, looking up at the stars before I went to sleep, I had gone so far as to secretly hoped that my mother would be able to return. Even knowing that thinking this was foolish, I had still wanted it to be true. This hope had stayed with me until I reached the cave and stopped worrying about such things. On my journey now, I start to hope for her return again.
At the time, I was convinced that anyone who returned would not be able to live with others. The farther away I kept going from Tokyo-3, and my old life; the ground zero for Third Impact, the more accepting of this truth I became. Doubts that had once resembled a flickering candle surrounded by a typhoon of certainty had been completely put out.
The down pour has lifted with my period of blankness. Jeremy, Sun and their unborn child had relit the candle, changing what was once a doubt into a hope. The next day, in and out of my cave, I had safeguarded the tiny ball of flame from the coldness of the world with thoughts of happy lives, like Ellas'. With every passing mile, with every hour of travel, with Tokyo-3 coming closer every day, I am now feeding this candle's flame.
But, like Rei said after the ninth angel event, humans fear darkness almost naturally. Inevitably I had to create some sort of light to protect myself from this fear.
At the beginning of my trip I had kept my hope alive with whatever small kindling I had at hand, but now I have an increasing stockpile of wishes and desires with which to stock my fire. While I had once thought that such emotions were impossible for me to find, there seems to be no limit to the number of them I can now feel. With these, a constant deluge of fuel upon the one time candle, I now have a roaring inferno to heat my soul.
I want to see the expressions on my friends' faces when they see that I'm okay. I want to feel them grabbing and hugging me tightly, having missed me for all these years. I want to cry with joy when I know they're alright themselves. I want to hear their stories, and how they came to this same conclusion as I have. I want to be happy.
I have a reason to live again, I'm on my way home, and I couldn't be happier.
All of these wishes, desires and hopes are true in the truest sense. To prove this to myself, all I have to do is count the days that I've been traveling and then look out at the East China Sea before me/around me/behind me. In ten days, I've traveled a distance that once took me four weeks. It feels like I'm flying. There's a spring in my step that was never there before, and a smile on my face that was once as rare as snow.
Every night, when I reluctantly stop, I dream as I sleep. It was strange at first, because I hadn't dreamt in such a long time, but the more I think about it . . . Looking back on my time in the cave, every day was just a continuation of my sleep. Awake or asleep—it was all the same. I didn't dream while I slept and I didn't live while I was awake.
But the closer I get to Tokyo-3, the more every night feels like the opposite. Like my dreams are continuations of my life. Of what I want to happen.
Every night, I dream of returning to Tokyo-3. Everyone is out to welcome me back, smiling and cheering another person's return to the streets of Tokyo-3. There are crowds, but I only have eyes for the people who I miss the most. And, oh, how I have missed them . . .
Misato grabs me, embarrassing and teasing me like she used to. She's still wearing her flight jacket, the bullet holes sewn up messily by what's obviously her own hand. She pretends to yell at me for having lost her cross pendant during the Impact, but I know it's just a joke. This time, when she teases me, I can understand it for what it really is, and even play along with her.
A playful hit on my arm announces Asuka has made it over to me. I laugh with joy, seeing that she's recovered from the injuries she returned from the Impact with. She scowls at me, almost like I'm laughing right at her, but when I let my worry show she laughs and starts bragging about how she knew I would be the last one back. Catching her by surprise, I show her why she should wish I was the first.
Rei gives one of her small, rare smiles and says that she is glad to see "Shinji" has come back. Then, in an even rarer moment, she pulls me into a short hug and whispers that she always knew I would return. I'm so surprised that when she darts off red-faced a moment later I am left blinking wildly with my mouth open in astonishment. This isn't my Rei . . .
First and foremost, Touji and Kensuke both give me hell about how close to Misato I got. They sigh heavily and say that they can't believe I'm still such a coward. However, I surprise them by saying I grabbed "just a little bit" more than I used to. At first, they look like they won't believe me, but then they're off on a rant about how lucky I am. Touji and Kensuke: So predictable, and so easy to mess with now.
I see my father in the distance, and can tell he's both smiling and clapping. We give each other nod, and I think we both understand that nothing more is needed between the two of us. We may never like one another for what's been done in the past, but we can at least be cordial.
While he is not there at first, as I get closer to Tokyo-3 Kowaru appears in the dreams more and more often. He approaches me, puts his arm over my shoulder and whispers a quiet but earnest sounding, "I still love you," before quietly vanishing back into the crowd.
At the end of the dream, a giant "Congratulations!" always comes up from the crowd, beginning my awakening process.
The closer to Tokyo-3 I get, the stronger the dreams seem to become. By the time I arrive in Japan, the dreams are so powerful that when I awake from them I am literally sprinting towards the city. I'm so close by now that from any high rise I expect to see the skyscrapers. Tonight, at nightfall, I do.
With a heroic amount of self control, I manage to stop myself from going the last few miles tonight. The dreams always show me arriving in the morning and my hopes hold me in place. I want things to be exactly as they are in the dream, down to the letter.
Tonight's dream is even more realistic and heart-pumping than the previous ones. This time there are even more people in the city, but I can still hear those I know above all else.
No one's missing. No one is unhappy to see me. I could die right now, during this dream, and still be happy forever. To think that I ever had doubts about living with these people . . . I see how stupid I was. But that's okay now, because all that matters is that I came back.
When I wake at dawn, my body feels like a coiled spring, ready to flash to Tokyo-3 in an instant. The impulse is too much to resist, and I head off towards the city at once. Oh yes, I've found my reason to live now. Eternal happiness is just another step away.
I'm fulfilled.
I'm in shock. How can this be happening? No . . . no . . . no!
I put all my hope into this trip, just knowing that when I arrived here I would find the feelings I've been craving. Somehow, doubt managed to escape my mind . . . My friends were going to be here, waiting for me. They were supposed to be waiting . . .
So similar to what always used to happen to me before the Impact . . . how could I have let this happen? Millions of lifetimes lived, and I couldn't realize that I was tricking myself into thinking there would be people here? Putting all my eggs into one basket as if I've never been in this sort of situation before . . . That's just me.
I'm on my knees, my tears sliding down my cheeks and then onto the broken cement around me. Around me is a city that has not been inhabited since before the Impact. A city still destroyed by Angels, Evas and cruel human lies. A city without any of the signs of jubilance or fulfillment that I had expected and dreamed of for so many nights.
Here, my sins were to have been absolved. With this place in mind, I had broken the chains of my self-imposed prison of nothingness. There had been a clear answer in my mind—get to Tokyo-3—with which to combat the problem of loneliness.
Here, my grave will be. There is no one here, and I have no will left with which to stand once more. Everything that I had hoped, everything that I had needed, was supposed to be here. Now, truly, I have nothing left to live for.
Come sweet death. Come, come and take me away. This earth has nothing left for me now that all the fires of my hopes have been crushed by the thousand pound weight of reality. And now this weight drags me down into death.
I have been denied.
My eyes are pried open in such a way that I know this is a dream before I have even taken in what I see.
I want this to end . . . I want it to all fade away, so that I don't have to feel this hurt anymore. Closing my eyes, burying my head in the cave and stopping thinking were the best things I ever did. Why, oh why, did I have to leave the cave? It was such a mistake. Everything has been a mistake.
Compelled by the dream, I become aware of my surroundings. It's as if the dream knows how I'm feeling, but won't let me sink back into my funk. I don't want to see or think about what's going on, but I'm pulled into doing so despite my will against it.
Before me is the exact spot where I know I am fast asleep in the waking world. Pieces of concrete, formerly parts of buildings and the highway, are littered around the area. Further away, pieces of skyscrapers are mixed with destroyed tanks and planes' remains.
An utterly wasted, blasted landscape. In shocked disbelief, I had silently walked a street before I had stopped. Dust had accumulated, and in certain places wild life and natural growth had overwhelmed what little remained of man's onetime fortress. No man, women or child had been here since the fateful day we were all drug from our homes by the impact.
A feeling grabs me. A feeling I don't want to feel. After the let down, the lie, the pain of failure, I don't want to feel anymore.
A shadow moves in front of me, and I freeze. Behind me lays a large hill, which I had practically fallen down in my despair. The sun, or what passes for the sun in this world, is behind this hill, slowly sinking with the night. Whatever moved is up on this hill.
The shadow pauses just after the recognizable shape of a human head forms. If I could, I would close my eyes. Why must I be taunted like this? I don't want to dare to trust again, especially knowing that this is just a dream.
But then . . . how can it hurt? I've already come to realize the difference between reality and dream. Whatever happens here cannot hurt me physically, mentally or emotionally.
Held by the dream, and perhaps a little bit not, I turn and look at the hill and whoever, or whatever, stands upon it. Immediately, I am blinded by the driving rays of this dream's sun, which is much closer and more powerful than it would be in the waking world. My eyes snap shut and flood as I bury them beneath my arms.
I'm still seeing bright spots, despite all of the protection I've put over my eyes. I try to close them tighter and pull my arms tighter seeking some respite from this pain, but nothing seems to help. Now, with my eyes burning, I hear it.
The person is walking down the hill, towards me. They wear no shoes to make very loud sounds. Their pace is not hurried, but not specifically slow either. They're just taking a stroll down the hill to me.
I scrub my eyes furiously with my fingers, trying to make it so I can see. Nothing seems to be happening. If they want to hurt me, I won't be able to do anything!
Sinking to the ground, I arch my back so that as much of my body as possible is blocking the light. My hands are on my temples and my elbows are supported on by quads, helping form the shield. Slowly, still unsteadily, I can feel the pain on my eyes beginning to lift.
Whoever it is stops a few feet in front of me, judging by the sound of their last steps. They have yet to say or do anything to tell me who they are—no, who they are supposed to be—except for the completely useless shadow of their head in front of me what seems like an hour ago.
Finally, I can open my eyes again. For a long moment all I do is look at my hands, which have slid down to form a cup underneath me. My mind's guest is forgotten for the moment, as I simply relax and revel in my returned sight.
One last droplet of tear slides off of my face and plummets into my hands. Just before it shatters into a million pieces, I see reflected images within it.
They're all there. All, all in one place.
Each angle shows a different person. Every person I've ever met or seen, the entire population of Earth before and during Third Impact, standing there looking back at me. All of them are smiling at me, and while I can only see them move in the tear for an instant, they reach a hand forward, as if to help me back up.
Wait . . . there is one person who I don't recognize. One who I have a sinking feeling I should know, but can't quite put my finger on. He looks just like a mixture of . . .
I jerk my head up quickly only to find that no one is there. I open and close my mouth silently in shock. It had felt so real, like they were all right there, within arm's distance.
That's twice in one day I've let myself get disappointed now.
Pulling myself back to a stand, I glance around. Nope, no one here. The streets lay as barren as they were before I turned around and blinded myself. With a sheepish grin, I have to admit that for once I'm glad no one is around. This way I'm much less embarrassed.
Sticking one foot out, I prepare to blindly wander the city until I awake, when out of the corner of my eye I see something. Whirling, I am left with only an afterimage. I could have sworn I saw a child's foot behind that destroyed building . . .
Slowly, I approach the site. Am I seeing things or was there really something there? This dream needs to realize that I don't care. Seriously, it's getting annoying—what was that? Over there!
I take off, chasing the sound of light footsteps almost blindly. Whoever I am chasing is fast. Fast enough that I can never see more than a moving blur before they disappear around another corner or behind something. However, somehow, I can tell that I've gaining on him. Just very, very slowly . . .
Suddenly, the kid skids to a stop and turns to look at me. I slow and then stop my run about fifteen feet from his position, wondering why someone would make me chase them like this just to stop on their own will.
Maybe he stopped here for a reason. The street we're on is especially dark, to the point where despite our proximity I can't recognize the child. If he wanted to stop someplace where I wouldn't be able to recognize him, then this would be the perfect spot. Then again, maybe he just realized that his struggle was doomed to fail from the start.
I cautiously take a step forward, then another when he doesn't move at all. When he still doesn't react I gain a little bit more confidence and believe that he won't run, but still approach slowly. There's no point in scaring him away now.
Finally, I am close enough to him that I can tell who he is. Just as I had thought, this is the same little boy who I had not recognized in the tear droplet just a few minutes ago. The same person who I had not known. Brown hair, blue eyes, a slightly hopeful smile that seems like it could fade to sadness in an instant, looks like he misses his mother . . . the only time I have ever seen this boy was when I was younger and looked in a mirror.
I reach my hand out, and he dissolves into the air around me. For some reason, this doesn't surprise me at all. It's like I should have known that he—I—was going to disappear.
With the boy gone, I take a look around me. Without noticing I had chased him to an entirely different part of the city. Here, the skyscrapers and buildings have not been destroyed. One last outpost of humanities former fortress remains, it seems.
From far ahead of me, I head a clapping noise begin. Then another, off to my left. More and more clapping begins around me, until I can tell that there are as many people in this dream as I saw in the one last night.
People, within a still standing part of Tokyo-3 . . . but what does it mean?
I'm awake again, whatever that means.
Nothing has changed here, despite all that happened in my dream. The city around me is still destroyed, and there is no one here. However, the dream has done one thing.
It planted in me an idea. What if, instead of no one being here, I had just not looked hard enough? Tokyo-3 had been huge at the height of its power. I have only, maybe, looked at one percent of its former total size. Despite all that happened at the end—Unit 00's explosion, the JSSDF attack, Asuka's fury, the Mass-Production Evangelions, and the destruction caused by Unit 01's rise—there has to be some buildings standing somewhere.
And, if I were a population of post-Apocalyptic survivors, the part of the city that keeps standing would be where I live. So maybe things won't end up exactly like they did in my dream . . . oh well. Frankly, looking back at my expectations, it was only naturally that they be smashed. I had expected a lot of things that were impossible.
So maybe there are people here after all, but the question remains of where. Looking over the whole of Tokyo-3 could take weeks I don't want to spend. Maybe I could start in specific places . . .
That makes some sense. After all, if anyone I know is here, they would probably have checked those places as well. It's not much, but it's a start.
I don't dare to hope again. Not yet, at least. Despite this, I stand and set off. It's time to finish this journey for good or bad.
—-
While Misato's apartment, the first and last place that I had really been able to call my home, still stood, it held no signs of life. I had never thought that Misato's room could get any messier than when she lived in it, but somehow it has.
My room was the same as I remembered it being when I was last there. There had been nothing that could fall apart or break, to the point that it looks literally untouched today. Maybe all those jokes about my room looking like I was expecting a bombing had had a point after all . . .
Despite the failure of my main hope, some good had come of the visit. I'd rather have found people than my S-DAT, but one was better than neither.
Rei's apartment has been deserted as well. Fortunately for the smell she had not left any new bandages in her room.
On down the line of important places and houses I travel, until I can no longer think of anywhere to check. Most are destroyed, though a few at least still exist. Unfortunately, none hold the things that are really important to me.
I had contemplated going down to the geofront at one point, but after examining the glassed remains of the once pristine forest from the edge of the crater, I realize that no one could live down there. The JSSDF scorched the Earth with the expectation that no one would ever live there again, and they did a dam fine job of it, apparently.
After visiting the location of the ramen shop that Misato treated Asuka, Rei, and myself to after the tenth angel—which has been thoroughly destroyed—I believe that I am out of options. That is, until one final idea hits me.
Life changed after Third Impact, undeniably. To some people, Jeremy Bith being a perfect example, I'm sure that going back to their old life would be impossible. So, I think it's only natural that the place where they would congregate at would be someplace important to the post-Third Impact world.
At least, I rationalize this to myself as I pass the spot where I last saw Asuka. Her long missed image seems to be sitting the same place I last looked at her, for an instant. I slacken my pace slightly. Diving headfirst, depending on and expecting people to be here could lead to a repeat of when I entered Tokyo-3 for the first time.
Then, only once, comes a noise and I freeze. Pinching myself to make sure that I really am awake, I take a hesitant step towards where the yell came from. For a long moment, nothing more happens. I strain my ears, hoping against hope that they have not betrayed me.
After what feels like an hour, another sound comes, this time apparently in response to the other. Two people. Yelling to each other. It feels so marvelous to hear this again.
I take a few more steps in the direction of the speakers, and then pause again. The voices are continuing and now I can tell what it is they are saying.
It's a conversation that only two people could talk about in this tone of voice. Two people who I know very, very well. Two people that I have missed very, very much.
Unable to control myself a second longer, and now assured that what I am hearing is not a figment of my imagination, I tear off in the direction of the two of them. With every foot step I draw closer to what I've wanted since I saw Sun and Jeremy. I push myself to my physical limit, blindly rushing to get to my final location as quickly as I can.
Eventually I enter a small city and start passing living, breathing people. Some are standing in front or inside of wooden huts. Others are chopping wood or going about daily chores. I see one couple, who I think may be Touji and Hikari, though with the distance I can't tell, paying all of the attention in the world to a baby, held by the man. At one point I have to jump over a child who, playing with many of his friends, has not noticed me until it was almost to late to prevent a collision. Then I'm out of the city, back into the forest, still sprinting for my life towards my destination.
Seeing people, assuring myself that I have found where I belong, is fantastic. The last worry of having false hope is destroyed at last. No matter what happens now, I will be happy. However, for now all my mind and body are intent on getting to the two speakers I heard from so far away.
By now, after at least a mile or two, my legs are heavy from fatigue and my chest is no longer sucking in air as fast as I need it. But this doesn't matter. I can hear the two of them just in the next grove.
Finally, I break through the trees and skid to a stop. Breathing hard, I look around franticly. There, at the bottom of the hill, stand the two of them. At first, all I can do is stare at them.
Hearing my own troubled breathing, they pause in their conversation and look up at me. At first they don't seem to understand what I'm doing here, why I'm out of breath or why I'm smiling like some sort of idiot. Then they recognize me.
As who I am dawns on them, I look into their eyes and feel ecstatic. I laugh—a real laugh that I haven't used in ages—and cry tears of happiness as I run down the hill into the arms of those I've missed for so long.
As we embrace, I feel love. Good god I've finally made it to the end of all this. Loneliness doesn't have to plague me every night now because I won't be alone any more. I can sleep again without having to worry about anything. I'm with them and nothing can go wrong. I'm with them now, and I won't ever let go of them again.
The dreams I dreamt on the way to the city have nothing on this. Seeing and talking to those I care about is one thing, but holding them, loving them and knowing they love me back is indescribable.
This is happiness. This is the actualization of everything I've ever wanted. This is fulfillment. This is coming home, back to the ones I love.
"My life alone would not last forever. I'd already experienced too much for it to. There were too many happy memories and lives recorded in the recesses of my brain for me to ignore them forever. I'd tasted real life before and during Third Impact.
Living alone had its benefits, but also many problems as well. Becoming lonely was an inherent part of this life that I could not avoid. By not thinking or feeling I managed to shut loneliness out, but when exposed to Sun and Jeremy I remembered what it is to do both of these things. Then things became only a question of when. When I would go home.
If I had never been touched by anyone—not Misato, not Rei, not Asuka, not Touji, not Kensuke and not Kowaru—I might have continued to exist as I did in China for what was left of my natural life, even after seeing Sun and Jeremy again. But with Instrumentality and the lives of every person on Earth behind me, this was never possible.
Just like you can't appreciate a sunny day without a rainy one, you can't truly appreciate the people you love until they've been taken away from you. This part of my life gave me a lot of pain, but also taught me to truly appreciate what I have. Now that I have my friends and family back, I'll never let them go again.
And I'm glad about that. Just being alive has no merits alone. It's only through living with others that we can learn about ourselves and really be happy. And, isn't that what it's all about?"
Excerpt from: Shinji Ikari- Memoirs of an Evangelion Pilot, For the Next Generation
And that's the end.
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