Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Neon Genesis Evangelion (NGE) and am most likely in violation of creating a derivative work by simply writing this piece; however, I am not, nor do I ever intend to make any money from this. I relinquish my rights, if any whatsoever, to said piece to those in possession of intellectual property rights to NGE, including but not limited to: Gainax, Project EVA, TV Tokyo, NAS, and Hideaki Anno. I will comply with the removal of this work at official request of any said holders of rights to NGE.
A/N: …as if anyone cares. I decided to make this a couple days ago and finally had time to write a bit out a few hours ago; I haven't decided a definite plot as of yet, but I have an original premise in mind. Bear with me as this is my first fiction, please; constructive criticism is appreciated.
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Shinji Ikari began to stir, laying to the right of one Asuka Langley Sohryu on a beach of white sand, crimson red waves gently lapping upon the shoreline in front of them with an audible swish; Asuka's right arm, head and left eye were still bandaged from her ordeal before third impact in which she fought nine Mass Production Evangelion units, but was caught off guard, not aware that the units couldn't be destroyed by conventional means. Unit-02's left eye was pierced through with a Lance of Longinus replica, pinning her completely. The enemy units revived completely, still all bloodied and mutilated but in working order; they tore her unit asunder in an unparalleled display of inhuman carnage, ripping into her unit and gorging themselves on the raw, bloodied jumble of muscle, sinew and entrails. As if this was not enough, Asuka was still fighting them off past human abilities, blood oozing from her left eye into the cloudy LCL in which she was submerged; she was berserk and moving beyond the realms of life, unrelenting in her death throes and in writhing pain. The Units flew off like black-winged scavengers fleeing from a predator claiming its kill and buried their spears first into her outstretched arm, splitting it in twain like a knife does paper, then pierced her midsection with spear after spear with such power to raise Unit-02 a hundred feet off the ground, suspended in the air, impaled on the shafts. She had apparently died and suffered more than any could perhaps imagine in the process, yet here she was.
The boy laying to her right, Shinji Ikari, still somehow dressed in his untainted school uniform of black slacks and a white short sleeve dress shirt over a dark blue undershirt, had just witnessed and partook firsthand in the annihilation of the world and the physical death of all human life thusly. He had been a tool of untold, horrible destruction, equivalent to a god of death; he had been through Hell and back, and in his wake utter annihilation had followed, as was his father's chosen scenario. He stopped too late, realizing his mistake when Humanity had already vanished and was of one conscience, but was reassured that he and everyone who chose to would be returned to reality should he choose so, and he did.
He stirred awake, first seeing a bloody red streak in the sky crossing the pale blue light of the full moon and then turned to his left. He focused on none other than Rei Ayanami, his guide through that importunately frustrating hell called Instrumentality and maybe even guardian angel, hovering above the blood red sea clothed in her usual school uniform; a figure in a red plug suit sprawled on its back in his foresight lye at his side. In an instant Rei was gone, as if she was never there. His vision focused back to his foresight. They were alone; that figure lying next to him in shambles, and himself.
Shinji looked forward and sat up slowly, turning his attention on the fiery redhead next to him, still in her red plug suit, looking paler and more fragile than ever in the gentle wash of moonlight. He paused to think for a few moments, the only sound the lapping of waves upon the shore of the crimson lake. His eyes narrowed upon Asuka as he moved to straddle her and started strangling away her precious life; he was shaking with fear and uncertainty in his eyes as his hands clenched around her throat. Asuka's body flinched as he tightened his grip, her exposed right eye unmoving, opened suddenly focusing on his face. She slowly, weakly reached up with her right hand and caressed his face gently, sliding her slender fingers down his face ever so gently, much as his mother had right before their parting; Shinji's mind went blank and fear turned to shock as he suddenly realized what he was doing, and he lost the strength in his arms, slumping forward and releasing her from looming death. He realized his mistake. This was reality, no matter how it looked; it was something like what he wanted, after all. Tears landed on her cheek one after the other as she withdrew her hand and let her arm fall to her side once more, completely unmoving. His body was limp; he was sobbing now above her chest and gasping for air in between the sobs; she looked down at the familiar boy with her eye filled with more than a little disgust, softly saying one simple phrase with a rather ambiguous meaning for the situation, "kimochi warui." Asuka's eye closed again as she slipped from consciousness, her eyelid fluttering as it shut, leaving Shinji sobbing above her.
After what seemed like hours Shinji simply had no more tears to shed. The rise and fall of Asuka's chest had diminished to almost unperceivable levels and he suddenly took notice of the fading life before him. He desperately tried to rouse her from her unconscious state, shaking her by her shoulders, still straddling her as he spoke, "W-wake up Asuka – help me! Hey, wake up! Hey! Hey Asuka! Asuka!" he continued softly, "Help me… I… I need…," he trailed off, obviously unsuccessful at his attempt, his throat swollen and sore, and his eyes puffy and burning. Her signs of life were illusive, his one and only precious person left on Earth; she was his first true and maybe last love. A familiar feeling started eating away at his heart yet again; a deep-seeded loneliness and emptiness started devouring him from the inside. The only person that he had left to care for was visually drifting into the realm of death and there was nothing he could do.
He weakly stood up, still trembling and bent, looking around in a panic at the ruins of Tokyo-3. The craters left from Rei's battle with the sixteenth Angel were completely submerged under a bloody red primordial lake of LCL, angelic life-blood as it were; the remnants of Humanity. He looked around with increasingly faster movements, staggering away from Asuka weakly, like a drunkard, towards the ruined buildings around the frayed edges of Tokyo-3; he spun around and took in the sights of the crucified, broken figures of the mass production Evangelion units scattered over the red lake before him. The overpowering scent of blood rushed into his nostrils; the decaying body of a colossal white angelic Rei was stretched out for miles, visibly decaying with an eerily happy expression etched onto her colossal features, her face split in two. Shinji's stomach in knots, churning from the disgust within him, he cradles his stomach, breathing heavier and heavier in long, drawn-out breaths now, he gasps for air and swallows it down his swollen throat, nauseated now at the feeling in the pit of his stomach; he bends over and upchucks the burning acidic, reddish contents of his stomach until nothing is left, heaving a couple times for good measure with a raspy, wet sound, but nothing coming out save the stringy drippings of clear saliva from his mouth. He observes the familiar taste in his mouth; that of LCL. He turns back to the expanse of buildings, surprisingly untouched yet in ruins; not a soul was in sight. It looked as if it could have been this way for years, everything dormant, undisturbed and peaceful in a sense; like a graveyard, the drab buildings stood pale and grey, almost as if marking the death of Mankind. He noticed a white cross and tether nailed to a weathered post, the nail rusty and bent over, nearly falling out of the wood by itself. He stumbled over to it, still cradling his stomach, easily pulling it from the rotting wood, cupping the symbol in both hands as he staggered back towards Asuka. "Misato's cross; the last thing she gave me. I wonder how it got here... I guess I won't be returning it to her after all," he chuckles grimly at the thought; "…I guess it doesn't matter anymore."
Suddenly realizing that he may be alone in the world for the rest of his life, a kind of thoughtful regret settles over his features. He stumbled over to Asuka's body, still imperceptibly alive in her stock-still slumber, "She's probably dead." Shinji brought a hand up to his face and rubbed his puffy, weary eyes with his thumb and forefinger, wishing for tears to come so badly. He sighs in thought, "I guess in the end I'm the only one to blame for this." This mere child was indeed the means of destruction of nearly everything great the world once was and once had; humanity, and all the wonderful, yet terrible things in the world that it brought – they were gone, and he was the cause; maybe he truly was the God of Death, if but only for a time.
He nudged Asuka's seemingly lifeless body with his foot in one last attempt to rouse her, kicking a bit of chaste white sand over her abdomen; her body settled back into the sand with no reaction. He chuckles again, "Just another life I've taken, I guess," his lip quivering at the thought, "I guess crying doesn't help with anything after all, right Misato-san?"
Everything was gone to him; absolutely everything. He was disgusted at his train of thought, his exhausted state finally getting the better of him, "I'm tired; tired of thinking, tired of being able to do nothing. I'm tired of all this shit. Nothing goes the way I want. I really hate the way I am; just a disgusting, perverted, immature shell of a human. I'm the worst, not even human; after all I've done to Asuka and what I did to humanity, no one could ever love me. …I wouldn't deserve it anyway." Shinji kneeled down, reaching behind Asuka's shoulders to tilt her up, he clumsily draped the white cross around her neck with his free hand and swept her silky, flowing caramel-auburn hair behind her over the necklace, laying her gently back onto the sand and straightening the cross on her, brushing a few errant strands from her peaceful face with his now cold hands. "She's still warm," he mused, "This must be one more of God's cruel jokes," shaking at this point, almost brushing the idea off. He reached out and grabbed her by the wrist, checking for any sign of a pulse from the girl through her thick, leathery plug suit, yet finding none. He moved over her, his head approximately a foot away from hers and contemplates kissing her one last time, "I guess she wouldn't have wanted it this way… I better not," he withdrew and got to his feet. He spoke, "Asuka, you really did deserve so much better," his throat swollen so much so the words stick in his throat, his voice becoming hoarse and soft on the cool night air, "I'm… sorry. I can't do anything more for you."
Shinji slowly made his way to the waters edge on his trembling legs and stared out onto the vast body of what was left of Mankind, his mind empty and his body fatigued, he closed his eyes. He stood absolutely still; tranquil, bathed in the scent of blood and the serene hues of moonlight. Shinji's eyes snapped open wide, his dilated pupils quickly constricting almost impossibly small in the dim-lit night. He reached up to his throat with both hands as if possessed and clamped down, his thumbs over his major arteries and his fingers laced around his windpipe; he could feel the pressure building in his ears, his body begging for breath and his head throbbing from the pressure. His lungs burnt from lack of oxygen and his muscles starting to become weak and sore; saying his head was fuzzy was an understatement; his pupils dilated as his vision started to black, his heart pounding fast from adrenaline now and his head throbbing in time. Shinji started to lose conscious feeling, his body fighting his actions; he stumbled forward a few steps on weak legs into the blood-red sea, staining his pants red as it washed over his ankles. He crashed face-down into the waves lapping against the cool, wet sand of the shoreline. His body was freed from the bed of sand with each gentle wave, drawing him out into the expanse of red liquid. His unconscious body drew in shallow breaths full of water working with what little time and oxygen it had left to function on; he slowly sank deeper into the darkness; it ate at the edges of his image, darkening the body until nothing remained but pitch black; the absence of light.
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Next Chapter: Inception
