Shinji's Panache
Chapter 01

A/N: Just an odd little fic adapting the Cyrano de Bergerac story to Evangelion. I will be changing the plot significantly, so don't worry if you've already read the book. If you haven't, I certainly suggest it. It's best in the original french, if you can read it. Also, there's an excellent film adaptation starring Gerard DePardieu.

Disclaimer: I do not own Eva. Cyrano, however, is public domain. Oh frabjous day XD.

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Shinji sat in the sideline, the margin on the edge of the basketball court, a place with a surpreme view. The view in question was that of the girl's swimming area, on a raised platform above his vantage point. If one looked to said area at this time of day, one could see a swarm of cute, giggling girls in tight school swim suits -- a prime sight for any male eyes, sore or otherwise. Shinji's eyes, needless to say, were very sore. Damn sun. Damn Asuka. Damn father. Damn stray basketballs. The boy in question, however, did not take in the whole of this beautiful (one might even say Viewtiful) sight. On the contrary; one face, one figure for him stood out of the crowd.

"Whatcha looking at, sensei?" The face was burning with more than a teasing intent -- the hot sun was burning the pigment in the boy's fair pinky skin, birthing the seeds of new additions to his already numerous freckles. "Ayanami?"

Shinji said nothing, putting on his mask of most indifference, vainly hoping that the heat of his persistent blush would not burn bleeding through.

It failed. "Cmon Shin-man, we know ya gotta thing for her." This face was more accustomed to the sun, as was the body, which sweltered under black fabric. "What part of her are you staring at?"

This egged the other boy on. "Ayanami's bust?"

"Ayanami's thighs?"

The two boys looked at each other, grinning, and spoke in unison. "Ayanami's ca--" They were interrupted by the boy's soft, firm speech.

"Although she may be attractive, it is useless to fantasize about her. She is out of my league -- yours too." The two boys looked away, downtrodden. "I'm sure that if she really was interested in guys, she would have had them beating down the door. Am I right?"

Touji glanced at the basketball game idly. The guy's got a point.

Shinji continued, in a near-inaudible mutter. "Not that that changes how I feel..."

-

Shinji glanced again at Rei's desk. Ayanami... She was looking idly out the window, as usual, while the professor droned on about totally fabricated elements of popular history and mixtures of sentiment and propaganda. He turned back to his laptop, saving and closing his current document. It was a poem.

Shinji had been writing poetry ever since he was young. When he was just old enough to articulate his feelings on paper, it had given him an outlet for his feelings of regret and abandonment. He had stopped for some years while with his uncle, content with the life he had built, everything where it belongs.

When he started working for Nerv, he had started writing again. Composing, more like. There was always an element of getting out emotions in his poetry, but although the feelings of regret, abandonment, and sadness were ever more open and raw in this new occupation, these emotions were not what dominated his thoughts. Instead, his poetry reflected his pathos at the moments wherein he was calm enough to form these words -- beautiful, flowing verse that reflected the amorous musings of an engrossed heart. He knew that soon, for better or for worse, he had to expose this heart. He knew that, more likely than not, it would be stabbed through with poison needles, cold as ice. Such is the subject of his affections. However, he knew that if he did not let these feelings be known, he would soon overflow, his engrossed nature becoming an obsession to overtake all other things in his life. Just as his mother's absense did, so long ago.

In poetry, he could be free. Why can't I be like this on the spot? He mused while other parts of his mind were buzzing with information -- wording, syllable schemes, bits of allegory and figures of speech drawn from the Jungian collective subconcious. He could write beautiful words, make beautiful speech. But when the time came to speak, he never had the confidence to live up to his inner self, afraid of some abstract spectre in the Shinji Ikari in the minds of others. If only he could express the things to her, his love, that were so obvious to his mind but could not be communicated through his voice. That's it!

Shinji opened another tab in his text editor window, and named it 'letter.txt'. A simple name, but so was the raw emotion he was feeling, despite the fleur-de-lis of complexities that its communication vowed to draw upon him. He began his letter simply, as one would if one had utmost confidence in secrecy:

To my dearest beloved,
I have something to confess to you. I have fallen in love with you.
Your hair of lapis, your skin of porcelin, your eyes of crimson -- a perfect image of frail beauty. But it is not your looks that drive me to the edge of sanity.
Your intellect is unsurpassed by your peers, yet dispite this, neither that nor your amazing beauty gives you airs. Your grandiloquence is simple, your wording curt and eloquent. Your soft voice is the ocean, lulling me to slumber with a lulluby of melody and blankets of cool, crisp evening air. Your voice works on me like an incantation, drawing my heart out to you unknowing. It is lucky that you use it sparingly.
Your sole sparse glance at me is enchanting, your eyes of cold scarlet flame setting my soul afire. My love, if only you knew what you did to my heart.
Please, accept my feelings.

Sincerely,

Bring!
The bell chimed, signaling the end of school. Other students arose from their seats, and Shinji saved and closed his document, knowing that if another student saw it he would have a load of trouble. Slinging his pack over his shoulder, he stood up, aiming to get back to the apartment in time to start dinner. However, he was stopped by a call from behind him.

"Yo, Shinji!" It was an aquaintence, a handsome young man named Nagisa. "Got a minute?"

Shinji sighed. "Sure. What is it?"

The boy watched the room and waited until everyone else was gone. Then he spoke. "You're a pilot, right?"

Shinji sighed again. I don't have time for this... "Yes."

"So you and Ayanami must be pretty close."

Shinji's eyes widened a bit at the name, but then he put on a mask of disallusionment and replied. "Not especially."

The boy's heart sank with his lowered eyes. Shinji, seeing this, decided to make a positive note. "I know her better than you though, probably, so maybe I can help. What is it?"

The boy looked up and made a weak smile. Shinji knew that this was odd behavior for him, as he was usually the confident, friendly one in the class. "Do you think I might have a chance with her?"

Shinji faltered.


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Ok, this chapter done. For all of you concerned about Omega, et cetera... Well, Omega is in a dull point, which I need to work out of -- writing this fic will help, and once I'm done with a few chapters, I can probably go back to it. If you're still waiting on This Object, well, it's gonna take a very long time for me to get back into that I think.

You may notice that I introduced Kaworu in a different place, and made his personality a little different. This is because I was using him as a specific character type in lieu of bringing in an OC or SI. For all you Kaworu fans out there, he'll probably be in character in certain circumstances, but when he's his natural self, probably not. That's all I can say without giving away major plot points.

I also tried to get this done quickly, since I started in the evening on Valentine's Day and wanted a chapter to be finished by the time V-Day ended.

Happy Valentine's Day, and please review!