Author's notes: Ahoy folks. I've rewritten chapters one through seven of "Corners" to lead up to the release of its finale, because plot inconsistencies, prose, and Rei needed to be fixed. Obviously, this is the first of those revisions. As always, comments and criticism are advocated and earnestly welcomed.
Thanks to Dan Snyder, Koalakiller, and Axel Terizaki: three gentlemen who, back in 1998, took the time to offer suggestions and support to an Eva fiction newcomer.
"From All Corners They Cried"
By Dave Ziegler
Chapter One: 'Days Before - How We Were'
Sunrise greeted Tokyo-3. Fledgling fingertips of light surveyed the cityscape, leaving every discovery touched a soft orange. As nature compels, the youthful light reached farther and climbed higher, eager to attain its full height and power. Trees and gardens flowered at its touch; the blossoms welcomed the new day with an open face and puff of fresh perfume, and the sky worried over what color it would wear. The new sun traveled the exterior of Tokyo-3's many buildings, warming the stolid concrete and steel, and setting the face of every window to twinkle. While the glitter dazzled all outside early enough to bear witness, it also shone a starburst-like mirage through the glass. Some windows dared to curtail the spectacle, using draperies and blinds as shields. Many, however, favored the brilliant show and allowed it passage to the room's interior.
The east window of Misato Katsuragi's second floor apartment delighted in these early morning theatrics. It welcomed the light into the bathroom and cheered the vanity mirror's adept reflections; this morning they spattered kaleidoscope fashion about the bathtub and glinted off the cream tile and small undulations in the water. This lit the room in a warm sparkle and intertwined with the trickling faucet's steady percussive plop to fashion a gentle ambience.
Asuka Langley Sohryu lazed to the morning's soothing rhythms. She snuggled into the sponge pillow suctioned to the back of the tub, and a parade of sunspots warmed her lips into a smile. Her toes idly flicked near the head of the tub where sprigs of hot water snapped and leapt at their point of impact. The main rush continued forward, driving through the complacent surface and shedding bits of itself to constantly rejuvenate the bath's temperature.
This was reason enough for Asuka to consider closing the tap the paramount of stupidity. Why ruin a perfectly good bath by dooming yourself to ever dwindling warmth, when you could just as easily drain the cool water and refresh the hot, keeping everything pleasantly heated?
Her guardian would disagree, of course, but Asuka knew better than to heed the woman's protests. If Misato didn't constantly waste her salary on booze there would be plenty of money leftover for life's finer pleasures: like long hot baths in steamy rooms filled with the vigorous scents of fresh soap. And as Asuka's legal representative in Japan, it was Misato's inarguable responsibility to provide for all the comforts she had enjoyed in Germany. If that meant running up some debt with the local utilities, well, it wasn't her fault the woman could hold down a job as NERV's Director of Operations but fail to budget her paycheque.
Asuka deeply exhaled and sank further into the water. Small, displaced waves broke against her neck, helping her recall memories of the few, exquisite beach-outings university life had offered. Of course, the water's temperature had been significantly less hospitable then, but that hadn't mattered. The snorkeling, the swimming, and the sunbathing: those had been precious opportunities to fully and freely let loose in the midst of the demanding academic schedule. Even the other students who had often regarded her as an oddity and outsider accepted her and their shared need for release.
That was the best thing about baths: they so relaxed you that only the good memories were ever recollected. The heat and steam were like the childhood blanket you wrapped yourself in at bedtime, because you knew it would bring you happy dreams. The nightmares never touched Asuka here, and the troubles of the outside world bubbled away with the water's surface.
Much as the sun forced children from beneath their blankets at daybreak, however, time's perpetual stalk always brought the bath to an end.
WARK! WARK! WARK!
Asuka jerked up, spilling water from her shoulders and breasts as she arrived at a straight-backed sit. She cast an aggrieved stare about the room, searching for the screech's source, and noted that the mechanical noise sounded vaguely like Pen-pen when he was grumpy, hungry, or both. Oh right. The alarm clock, Asuka recalled. She sighed and watched the faucet expel its liquid charge for a handful of moments, before lashing the drain open and closing the tap.
She stepped quickly from the tub, and eyed up Misato's newest and noisiest purchase. The clock featured a square timepiece little larger than a deck of cards with a flat white face and overlarge black numerals inset beneath a model table. A portly tin penguin sat at this table, empty stein in hand. The penguin's feet wildly gesticulated, its head shook from side to side, and its wings wound up and down in a frantic tantrum; every downward stroke of the bird's wing was followed by the tinny thump of its mug smacking against the tabletop and a shrill whine.
Asuka gratefully shut the alarm off, and spared the penguin a rude glance. Misato had produced the item a few weeks ago at dinner, gushing over its novelty and charm. Really now, Asuka wondered, what was wrong with the woman's taste? Even forgiving the nasty limitations it placed on her baths, the thing honestly had about as much charm as Toji and Kensuke in the girl's locker room.
Attempting not to let the execution of her bath sour her mood, Asuka paced the small room in a matter of steps and presented herself to the full-length mirror hung crookedly on the door's interior. The mirror was obviously cheap, with no plastic or aluminum frame to speak of, much less the more desirable wood. Its normally polished surface had fogged and ran streamers of condensation that recollected summer rain against a window. Asuka slapped water from the mirror until a reasonably clear image of her manifested.
Though heavy and straight under its own wet mass, her hair still maintained a sense of fullness and vibrancy. The red hadn't dulled in the least. Asuka noted her complexion was still near perfect; there was hardly a blemish to see. Her eyes shone clear and azure, her breasts continued their natural lift and allure, and her body from top to bottom remained nicely toned without descending into overly muscular parody.
No one could deny she was gorgeous.
Asuka's lips drooped, and her eyes smoldered.
If that was the case, then what the hell was the matter with Kaji? Even if he didn't yet find her personality sterling, he should at least be pretending for nothing else more than the opportunity to push her into a broom closet and ravage her silly. As mature and beyond the impulses that completely regulated boys her age Asuka thought Kaji was, she still knew that sex was the underlying drive for everything a male did at every point in his life. Thusly, Kaji should be trying to get her into bed, and that would give Asuka the chance to work him over with her charms and elevate the relationship into the realm of the mature female.
But he hadn't made a move yet. In fact, Kaji had gone so far as to dismiss her! The situation was close to giving Asuka a complex. She never used to doggedly examine herself after every bath; she knew she was excitingly beautiful and that wouldn't change unless she drastically altered her lifestyle or grew old. Neither was a good possibility at this point in her life, but she was poking, prodding, and squeezing herself to make sure everything was in good working order anyway.
Damn him, Asuka decided. It had to be a game he was playing with her, delighting in elongating the pressure of her frustration. He wanted her to simmer until explosion before he stepped in. Well, he'd get his for this hard-to-get crap. Asuka hated being toyed with, and detested waiting even more. When Kaji finally decided to show up, she'd be ready. Then everything would be on her terms.
For the moment, other affairs begged attending to. It was still a school day, and whether she thought going actually served a purpose or not, getting clothed and ready were still a necessity. Despite his infuriating infractions against her, Kaji was still the only man Asuka contemplated showing herself to.
Having dripped sufficiently since stepping before the mirror, Asuka turned and dragged her feet across the frayed bath mat. The coarse friction erased the last traces of moisture that clung to her heels and toes, leaving only a damp drying-varnish-like sheen upon the rest of her body. A fast rub down would take care of that.
Asuka reached for a towel, only to find the rack empty.
"God-damnit, Misato!" she blurted, outraged.
Asuka rapidly surveyed the bathroom, but found almost no trace of linens. Only the hand towel still hung at the sink's side, as it had when she first entered the room. She sneered at the domestic item's trickery; it had deceived Asuka, taking advantage of her early morning drowsiness and using its reassuring presence to help her forget that it was the single time this month Misato was responsible for the laundry. Had Asuka realized it, that little bit of knowledge would have been catalyst enough for double checking everything before slipping into the water.
"Stupid. Stupid," Asuka muttered. She should have expected this fiasco. Misato was anything but reliable when it came to chores. Frankly, Asuka was surprised NERV didn't provide Misato with a housekeeper to prevent her from developing squalor induced illnesses and losing them a vital employee.
Wait a minute. Wasn't that essentially Shinji? Wasn't his job to make sure everything at home ran smoothly: to see to it that Misato took her vitamins, wore her uniform, and showed up to work on time? The situation being such, was it not then his responsibility to anticipate Misato's dereliction of household duty and resolve the problem himself?
Of course it was. Shinji was just too stupidly selfish to realize it, and now she was paying the price. Well, being the Asuka Langley Sohryu meant something as trivial as lazy roommates couldn't impede her any. If there wasn't a towel, there wasn't a towel. She simply needed to explore her options and select the best solution.
Unfortunately, further examination of the bathroom revealed a severe dearth of resolutions. Asuka seized upon her balled up nightshirt, but a whiff of musty perspiration compelled her to toss it back to the floor. It was just as well anyway. If she wore something dirty now, then she'd have to bathe all over again. There was no way she would go to school with even a hint of foulness about her.
The small countertop penguin clock sounded a progression of severe ticks as Asuka conducted a second search. She silently cursed all novelty shops, their tacky merchandise, and anyone who visited them, and moved to toss the obnoxious object across the room before her eyes settled upon the hand towel.
"I guess it's better than nothing," she conceded.
Asuka snatched the diminutive towel from its residence beside the sink and began maneuvering it in front of her pelvis. Once it had achieved a satisfactory degree of coverage, she firmed her shoulders and turned toward the door.
"I'll have to make a run for it," she told herself. "It's risky, but definitely better than having to call Shinji for help."
Asuka eased the door open. Her nose scrunched as the clean scents of the bath were disrupted by an influx of that of trash. She vigorously fanned the sour air away and stifled a rising cough. Grimacing but undeterred, Asuka peered into the now exposed hallway. A fresh litter of beer cans indicated that Misato had since left for NERV HQ, and the door to Shinji's room remained closed.
Still, Asuka did not flee headlong toward her bedroom, but rather remained stationed at the door for another several moments, straining to hear the faintest indication of movement from Shinji's room. When nothing immediately alarming sounded, Asuka steeled her courage.
"Here I go."
---
Meanwhile, Shinji Ikari was fighting to stay asleep. While his alarm clock had obligingly refused to yet wake him, and his bedroom's curtains sheltered him from the morning's early light, his stomach was rumbling something of a fracas.
"Quit it," he groaned. "I still have time."
His stomach politely disagreed by turning a triple summersault.
"Ugh," Shinji offered by way of rebuttal. He rolled over, thinking to end the internal gymnastics by trapping his stomach between himself and the mattress. A minute's worth of trampoline work convinced Shinji this had been a stupid notion, and he returned to his back.
What was it with his stomach in the morning? Shinji thought it should be just as happy as the rest of his body for the chance to catch a little extra sleep. But no, while the muscles, eyes, joints, and whatever else chorused his praises for any extra amount of slumber he could give them, his stomach protested. In fact, it didn't just protest, it revolted. Why, though? Eating simply wasn't worth it.
The thumping in his gut did its best to convince Shinji otherwise.
"All right, already," he conceded. "I'll get up, but when my grades get worse from falling asleep in class, Misato is going to be angry with you."
Shinji grudgingly allowed his feet to touch floor, and noted that his stomach apparently didn't give two shits about Misato's ire. It wanted him in the kitchen as soon as possible, consuming something if not a fabulous breakfast. He balled his fists against his eyes, and worked at rubbing out the fatigue as he stumbled to the door.
"You're still going to have to wait," Shinji remarked. "I don't think Asuka can cook, assuming she's even up." No, Asuka definitely did not cook. She demanded to be cooked for, and that left him with all the work.
It wasn't as if Shinji found the arrangement to be a burden, though. In fact, he rather liked to helm the kitchen. There was something intrinsically pleasing about the crackle of a skillet, the crisp aroma of freshly chopped vegetables, and the slow radiating warmth of a stovetop in use; the culmination was something of majesty. It was only the stress filled moments following the presentation of the meal that Shinji dreaded. Asuka would take a bite and either rocket into a condemning diatribe or shrug her shoulders and continue eating.
"It'd be nice to know she enjoyed it, once in a while," he grumbled.
A deep belly gurgle ordered Shinji to quit lamenting and get moving.
"Fine. Fine," he placated. Shinji stepped from his bedroom.
"YOU LOWLIFE PERVERT!"
Asuka's accusation demolished the morning silence with the force of a volcanic eruption. Its livid tenor boxed Shinji into consciousness. He snapped from his slouch and his eyes opened wide. Asuka stood before him wearing nothing but what amounted to a skimpy loincloth.
Shinji's jaw managed to drop seconds before Asuka's fist slammed into it. He staggered, tried to catch his balance, but instead stepped on an empty beer can. It catapulted from beneath his foot, tipping Shinji into a backward tumble heavy with flailing limbs and startled cries. He managed a panicked 'help' before striking his head on the corner of a table.
---
Asuka quickly covered her breasts and firmed her grip on the hand towel. She needn't have bothered, though. By the time maintaining her modesty overrode the compunction to lash out, Shinji's pupils had rolled up underneath his eyelids while unconsciousness subdued any final twitches.
"Get up, you good-for-nothing!" Asuka ordered. "You think just because you're playing dead I'll move? Turn around maybe and head for my room? That'd get you a nice view of what little you missed out on, wouldn't it?" She swiftly kicked the boy. "Well, it's not going to happen. Pick yourself up and get out of the hall this instant!"
Shinji's lack of response to either the order or the kick prompted Asuka to frown. "Shinji?" she said, offering up another kick. The boy did not stir, though. Convinced, after several further spirited jabs, that no response was forthcoming, Asuka settled her head against the wall.
"Nice going, moron."
---
In its youth, the park had been lovely. The grounds were brushed green with well-tended grass; excited children pestered their aggrieved mothers to let them discard their shoes and flex their toes in the soft turf. Merry-go-rounds and swings stood proud in bright colors, while their parts whizzed in delightful motion. The chime of youthful laughter intermingled with birdsong.
As Rei Ayanami picked her way through the park, however, only the distant rumble of heavy machinery could be heard. She was careful to move around the crooked merry-go-around and to avoid stepping upon the twinkling shards of glass that mined the sandy earth.
A little further on, a thicket of out-of-control trees rose in such a manner as to look like something from a fairy tale. The densely interwoven branches sprouted a myriad of foliage; broad leaves flapped overtop tiny clusters, while ivy ran striations across the lot of them. Rei moved parallel to the botanical mess until coming upon a sizable cavity in its structure. She ducked into it, shielding herself from the sharp branches with her schoolbag.
Several wriggle-filled moments later, Rei emerged on the other side of the trees. The opening was less obvious here than on the park's side. It appeared more the lone thinning patch among a wealth of thriving greenery than a rotted cavern. She stood quickly, ignoring the few people who bothered to offer her a curious glance, and stepped into the composed activity of the street.
It was not necessary, Rei determined, to offer anything by way of explanation to the curious. If those individuals were not yet used to her presence, then they soon would be. She was, after all, no different than the old woman at the corner house who tended her compost every Tuesday morning or the green grocer's wife who berated him daily for lasciviousness when the same collection of women jogged past his shop. Monday through Saturday, when duties to NERV did not interfere, Rei would exit the trees at this street and continue on her way to school.
The incorruptible regularities of this neighborhood gave it distinction, Rei felt. It was not often one could depend upon people to keep to a routine. Too often they swayed with their passions or allowed themselves to be hurtled into frenzies. Most of the city streets were like this; disarrayed swarms bobbled along, tripping, bumping, and generally impeding each other to the point of vexation. In the face of such tumult, the calm predictability of these streets was a comfort.
However, Rei began to feel discomfited as she continued her walk. While this area was not prone to high levels of pedestrian traffic, there was always a minor bustle of people. Mothers traveled in flocks, guiding their youngest children to school, businessmen hurried to the train stop, and older students idled at shop windows, unwilling to yet part from their fantasies in favor of another repetitive day. None of it was as it should be.
Then Rei heard it: the soft but strident buzz of a gathering crowd. The further she continued, the louder the mass overlapping of voices became. Quickly enough, Rei encountered pockets of gossiping townsfolk scattered around the periphery of a great mass. Their mouths moved in a jumble, but their voices were swallowed by the fetid clamor that rushed from the central body.
This morass of humanity and voices warring for space felt to Rei like the wrath of a great predator snake that had snatched her into its coils and was slowly and precisely wrenching the life from her lungs. She fought a breath passed the constriction in her chest and, hardening herself to the oppressive obstacle, dashed out into the road. No thought of incoming traffic challenged her decision, for experience had taught Rei that motorists bypassed the tangled streets of this community. Only a few delivery trucks and residential vehicles idled at the road's side, and Rei used these to shield herself from the press of people that was spilling over from the sidewalks. She savored her sudden distance from the commotion, and hurried along the periphery until she discovered its epicenter.
A sharp voice rose agitatedly above the collective din of the crowd. It had the tenor of an incendiary device and the warmth of nails. Rei found the voice decidedly familiar.
She followed the string of powerful swears and grunts to a horseshoe shaped pocket in the crowd. It seemed that even though this spectacle was enough to draw the townsfolk from their day's duties, none were quite willing to move beyond rubbernecking. The familiar voice was making note of this very fact.
"You all just keep staring! It's not like I give a damn! I don't need your help! I'm going to do this on my own, you hear me? My own!"
The clamor changed in pitch; trepidation and curiosity gave way to shame. Some in the crowd commented upon the validity of the accusation and their own inadequacies for failing to do more, while others spoke of the scandalous behavior of today's youth. Rei thought neither position was particularly correct on its own. Was it not prudent to evaluate a situation first, before trapping oneself in its mechanics? And even if judged safe, should an attempt be made if all one received for the effort was vitriol and dismissal? Yes, Rei decided. These people had the opportunity to make that decision. They did not receive orders.
As Rei wound her way along the upper portions of the horseshoe, the voice became steadily clearer. She could no longer doubt personal knowledge of its owner. The Second Child was causing this disruption. There could be no argument. The manner of speech, which had made Rei initially suspicious, moved with such fluid intensity between superiority, aggressiveness, and vulgarity that it could only be Sohryu.
Though it was not uncommon for the Second Child to rage at NERV or school, Rei had never known her to put on such a display among the random public. Unable to repress a growing interest, she moved the final distance past the edge of the crowd and into the clearing. The instant Rei broke rank, the townspeople's gossip quieted and they watched her with rapt attention. The collective intensity of their gazes jellied Rei's legs, and while she felt the urgent need to collapse under the scrutiny, the spectacle before her solidified her purpose.
Sohryu carried Ikari upon her shoulders like a father toting his child through the air. Unlike the perpetually effusive child Rei encountered each Saturday morning, whose eyes shone with glee as her legs sailed out behind her, Ikari was limp. His arms and legs dangled, and his head lolled along as if he were a doll whose neck joint had gone slack.
It was obvious to Rei he was injured and required immediate medical attention. The Third Child was an important member of NERV. Commander Ikari would want his good health guaranteed so that he could continue in his duties as the pilot of Evangelion Unit One. This had to be assured.
The crowd's power went suddenly flaccid as Rei's demeanor hardened and her legs found new strength. The hot stares no longer scorched her back, but felt like an attempt to melt ice with a flashlight. She moved with ethereal precision toward Asuka and Shinji, and the masses collectively staggered back, huddling closer to one another.
"Why do you carry Ikari on your back?" Rei demanded.
Asuka's feet flew from the pavement and her stuttered inhalation sounded loudly in the now quiet street. She turned a haggard face to Rei.
"Jesus Christ, Wondergirl!" Asuka swore as she struggled to reposition Shinji. "Are you trying to make me drop him?" She bucked Shinji up her back, and pulled his forearms down till she levered his armpits atop her shoulders. "He's not as light as his scrawny ass would lead you to believe."
"I am not attempting to do so, no."
Asuka supplied Rei with a curt nod, and set off toward the corner traffic light. The clusters of townsfolk dispersed in her wake, and those pedestrians ahead who were just now encountering Asuka cleared out of her way faster than she could fix them with a glare. The end result was almost biblical in execution, as people fled to the right and left, leaving a safe channel through their middle for Asuka's passage.
The power of the Second Child's demeanor fascinated Rei for a few moments, but she quickly took up a determined pursuit. Sohryu was unnecessarily confrontational, and if not consistently pressed on a point would easily win out over you with her constant dismissals and arguments. Rei knew she had to be more stubborn than her prey, or else she would be swiftly bucked, and Ikari would remain in Sohryu's suspect care.
That would not please the Commander. He would not accept excuses or tolerate the fragility of character that would allow one to crumble under prolonged verbal assault, no matter what was said. Commander Ikari was steadfast, and expected the same effort of those he trusted. Rei would not violate those principles. Their gift had affected her too deeply.
Asuka slowed as they neared the street corner, though Rei suspected it was not merely because they had arrived at their destination. The girl's breathing had degenerated into hacking gasps, and an increasing number of wet stains spread across her uniform. Rank overexertion baked in the constant summer heat.
"Stop staring, will you!" The words shot out in a single breath. Rei was surprisingly impressed that Sohryu could still manage such passion in her deteriorating condition.
"I still await your explanation for this situation."
Asuka forced a laugh that had all the humor of a retch. "He smacked his head on a table," she explained between ragged breaths. "Knocked himself out. I'm bringing him to the nearest doctor." Her eyes flicked between Rei and the still red stoplight. "And I don't see why I have to explain anything to you."
"Why did you not call an ambulance?" Rei demanded, ignoring Asuka's attempt to undermine her. Sohryu's actions were extremely irregular and most definitely improper. They demanded explanation and rectification. The first of the Second Child's attacks would not change these facts. Common sense dictated that if someone were injured, one should seek the fastest possible medical treatment for that person. Speed and effectiveness meant the paramedics.
"Good question," Asuka huffed. Her eyes lit at the sudden change of the stoplight, and Rei followed as she quickly carried Shinji through the intersection. Once across, they swung to the left and onto a newly refurbished stretch of land. The sidewalk had the smooth finish of being freshly poured, and the trees were obviously young. Their thin trunks featured none of the many crags and twists that so demarcate age among trees, and at barely seven feet tall even the healthy foliage cast only a spackling of black against the sun soaked pavement.
"Didn't think of it, really." Asuka continued her musings as if she hadn't stopped. "Probably because I figure I should take responsibility."
"Responsibility?"
"Responsibility for making sure our invincible Shinji stays in tip-top shape," Asuka grunted. "He's the hero after all. What would we girls possibly do without him the next time an Angel shows up?"
"You should have called for medical assistance," Rei instructed her. "Prolonging his lack of treatment is not helpful."
"You do things your way, I'll do them mine." Asuka paused for a moment and leaned against a telephone pole. "Now which way was it again?" Her eyes searched the street passing by the new onlookers and cataloging the various store signs, street signs, and other landmarks that might help her regain her bearings.
"I will call an ambulance. You will wait here." Rei moved to reach into her schoolbag, but Asuka was faster. She let slip her grip on Shinji and slapped Rei's hand clear of the bag.
A moment of stunned silence passed between the girls. Rei recoiled before she could stop herself. As much as she had expected the flares of anger and abusive words, she had never considered that the Second Child would resort to physical violence.
"No, you won't," Asuka hissed, seizing her advantage and pressing her attack before Rei could fully recover. "You," she stressed, "will continue onto school and entertain whatever doll-like thoughts so fascinate you everyday."
Doll. The very word drove a spike through Rei's chest. It forced her into contact with things she'd rather ignore, things that were molten, jagged, and wild. Rei had been able to shut these things away ever since Ikari had insulted the Commander in her presence, but now they begged to lash out.
"I am not a..."
"Yeah. Sure. Whatever," Asuka interrupted. "Just go, will you? I'll take care of this."
"But you are not," Rei countered. "You have done little to aid Ikari. What he needs..."
Asuka's hand shot out and her fingers found purchase around the other girl's neck. The movement was akin to an owl skewering a listless mouse. She forced Rei against a convenience store window and squeezed just enough that the pressure compelled Rei to focus only on dragging fresh air into and out of her lungs.
"What he needs is someone who cares," Asuka sneered. "Not someone who's only concern is fulfilling a function. The Commander doesn't factor into this! NERV doesn't factor into this! Don't you get it? This is nothing you can help with, Doll! It's out of your league! It is beyond you!"
Asuka gave a little shove, and Rei toppled to the sidewalk. She took several quick, full breaths and gently rubbed at the now raw flesh of her neck before looking up. Sohryu towered over her with all the import and finality of Saint Peter's scale. She had been judged and found wanting.
"And you can do this?" Rei bitterly sniped.
"Not at all," Asuka replied, offering a twisted grin. "But I'm still one hundred times more capable than you"
---
Asuka could not believe she had sold Rei that superheated pile of horse shit. The level of idiocy required in taking her that seriously was staggering.
"Stupid Doll," Asuka muttered. "Does she really think I have to want dinner and a date?"
Apparently, Wondergirl still suffered the delusions of youth when it came to relationships. She seemed to think that just because Asuka was helping out, it was call to run into the middle of the classroom and start squealing about what an inferno of a torch Asuka carried for Shinji. For God's sake, Asuka had stomached as much as she could of that puerile nonsense when it was vogue in primary school.
Honestly, where did Rei get her notions about life? Obviously experience hadn't dealt her any cards yet. Maybe Commander Ikari had Fuyutsuki read her fables and fairy tales for bedtime stories? Or perhaps she was fixated on the naïve moral values of some retarded shoujo anime? Whatever the case, it was evident Rei had put stock in some deluded fantasy.
The reality of the situation was this: caring was never a factor. Life was about being adult enough to act when circumstances necessitated it. Just because Shinji was a gutless, perverted, shriveling waif, who sometimes amounted to no more than discarded bathroom tissue and didn't engender respect much less friendship, did not mean she lacked the capacity to help him. Most people were just too stupid to merit it, but if her rationale told her to act, she would.
'And you can do this?' Rei's voice teased within Asuka's mind.
Asuka grit her teeth and shouldered Shinji as best as her flagging strength would allow. She didn't need any damned emotional twaddle. She was fine as she was.
---
"Had the human race not found the strength of heart and common compassion that binds us all together, it's very probable we might never have risen from the calamity of Second Impact."
The elderly teacher ambled through the classroom, punctuating his words every now and then with self-affirming nods and a rub of his sizeable mustache. His eyes held the sheen of a man whose mind was far away, and the clusters of gossiping students kept alert enough to pull their desks apart as he passed. This, of course, was not because they feared being caught at not listening to the dreadfully dull lecture, but because should the teacher collide with their desks he might stop his inane reminiscing and actually start teaching.
"Now," the teacher continued, "what you must keep in mind is that prior to Second Impact, humanity was a fractured, jealous creature who'd just as soon consume its own flesh than put both hands out in aid. The incomparable destruction and its maddening effects, however, drove us as a race to rediscover our capacity to care for one another on a global scale. In this we found salvation."
The teacher's lecture continued, but Rei no longer paid it any mind. She let the monotonous drone and soft chatter sink from her recognition. As much as she shifted her gaze away from the old man to the scenery outside her window seat, her attention removed itself from her surroundings and focused inward.
Caring. The word was slippery. Like the worms that shuffled to the surface of the rain-laden earth, it thrashed and danced, doing its best to escape when your hand hovered too close. It kept you at a distance, only offering snippets and trinkets of itself while never allowing you to quite be sure of its entire purpose.
The lack of clarity unsettled Rei. She preferred definition in her world, direction. What was the use of something intentionally vague and misleading? You might as well start a journey without any idea of a destination. And yet, Rei's recollection forced her beyond these shortcomings to realize the importance of the concept. If caring revealed nothing else of its nature, she knew its approval could integrate even the most lost of individuals.
Rei had witnessed it many times. A new student would arrive; a transfer most likely, whose parent and or parents were now employed by NERV. The inflicted separation from his previous life would leave the new student isolated and alone, unable to solve the lock that surrounded the established groups. Some would remain calm, while others began to exhibit outward signs of agitation and paranoia. Finally, after what Rei could only assume was a process of judgment, an overture was made; some group somewhere within the class would find the new student capable of the possibility of this flighty emotional bond, and then he was no longer left behind.
Two of the more recent cases were Shinji Ikari and Asuka Sohryu. Rei believed she could understand Ikari's success at having been judged worthy of joining the other students. He had demonstrated, despite appearances, a strong capacity for caring. In a shocking emulation of his father, Ikari had risked himself to break the seal on her entry plug. He had told her not to say discouraging things. He had asked her to smile.
Sohryu, on the other hand, let slip hardly a trace of this mysterious notion. Again, however contrary to appearance, Rei could only conclude that Asuka did indeed possess some ability to create such human bonds. Why else would she have been more quickly accepted by the other students than Shinji? Why else would she continue to be welcomed in Major Katsuragi's home after the synchronization training had completed? There had to be something there: a compelling reason for her to have been esteemed favorably again and again.
Such a person called her 'Doll.' Such a person denied she had any capacity to care and be cared for. But it wasn't true. Rei held tightly to her belief that something within Commander Ikari had pronounced her fit. There was numerous evidence: he had put himself in peril to save her, he made preparations to rescue her from death should her duty ever bring her to that, he counseled her as if a daughter...
One person in her entire world had befriended her. Only one...
A seemingly explosive 'snap' wrenched Rei from her self-examination and back to the reality of the classroom. She blinked to clear the bright sun from her eyes, and then removed her gaze from the window to search for the teacher. She didn't need to look far. He stood just over her desk, the eyes of the entire class peering from behind his back.
Rei followed their collective focus to her right hand. The once polished surface of her desk was now murky with competing spots of black and red liquid. She lifted her hand from the slippery mess and forced it to unclench; the remains of her pen tumbled free and clattered across the wood. Tiny, clear shards protruded from her palm, dripping rivulets of blood.
"Miss Ayanami," the teacher questioned, "Are you all right?"
Rei hesitated for a moment before firmly nodding. "Yes," she said, standing. "I am fine. I will go to the nurse's station now." She quickly left the room, leaving the fumbling teacher to give his permission in her wake.
---
"Right. Anyone care to explain what happened?"
Major Misato Katsuragi was not pleased. She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest, and surveyed the kitchen's other occupants across the table. Asuka sat rigidly straight, her back ever so slightly twisted to one side. Her body's marginal arch gave the perfect angle at which to shut her eyes and push her nose into the air as if the entire matter was beneath her dignity. Shinji, conversely, struggled to squash himself into a ball, and looked honestly contrite and ready to confess to any number of villainous wrongdoings.
The day had started well enough. Early mornings were never a prize, but Misato had made due with a hot shower, several beers, and some leftovers of Shinji's wonderful cooking for breakfast. Even work hadn't been that bad. No Angels had appeared, the volumes of paperwork that squatted on her desk had been chased down to a minimal stack, and of the several scheduled meetings, four she could snore through and not miss anything vital. In fact, she had been in the middle of a routine meeting with Ritsuko when her luck plummeted into the sewer.
Asuka had rung her up on the cell, and demanded that Misato come and retrieve she and Shinji from a doctor's office between the apartment and school. Strictly dismissing the need for any further explanation or details, Asuka had hung up, leaving Misato prey to the throbbing of dread and anxiety mingled adrenaline. Later that day, after her nerve calmed and her fear abated, Misato entertained the most disgustingly adult thought to ever flit through her mind: she wished Asuka would one day have children who would mirror her behavior as teenagers.
As it was, her initial panic drove Misato from NERV faster than the start of a paid vacation; she had quite literally been out the door before Ritsuko could even ask what was wrong. Following five minutes of driving that would have sent many American filmmakers into spasms of ecstasy, Misato threw open the door to the doctor's office expecting to find blood, mayhem, or at the very least a sudden outbreak of hacking cough. Instead, she found Asuka sprawled across the waiting room couch, sucking a lollipop and reading a fashion magazine.
The visceral urge to explode had been extremely tempting, but Misato managed to rip free of its grip and give herself to the repressed calm that anchored her through many of NERV's operations. She politely accepted Asuka's 'You didn't wash any of the damned bath towels,' as well as the doctor's ambling explanation of Shinji's minor concussion, the need to stitch close the gash in his head, and several reassurances regarding the integrity of his jaw beneath a particularly nasty bruise. When all courtesy and payment was exchanged, she filed them wordlessly into the car and drove home. And now that they were indeed home, Misato had free reign to do whatever she liked.
"Someone had better say something." The threat leering from Misato's eyes steered Pen-Pen right around as he entered the kitchen. Some things were more important than food.
"Look, I already told you there was an accident! What more do you need to know?" Asuka challenged.
What more, indeed. The very basics of how and why would be nice, perhaps followed by an analysis to the most infinitesimal detail. The conclusions, Misato was sure, would show that a prolonged apology would also nicely fit the bill.
"Shinji's bruise doesn't look much like an accident to me." Misato allowed silence to linger after her statement, a chance for Asuka to confess. She was not at all ashamed for trying to play upon whatever guilt Asuka might feel. Misato recognized a bruise like Shinji's from combat training, and if all Asuka was going to do was dance innocently around the issue, then some underhanded manipulation was called for. Asuka had obviously already done her best to get Shinji to keep quiet.
"It's okay, Misato," Shinji interjected. "I'm doing fine."
Yeah, Asuka had definitely worked him over well. There was simply no other explanation for Shinji's insistence that all was well and what happened didn't matter. If someone at school had hit him, he might still be uncommunicative, but in a more surly I'm-trying-really-hard-to-still-be-macho-after-my-manly-pride-was-shredded-today sort of way. Things weren't the same as when he had first arrived in Tokyo-3. Shinji just wasn't this placid anymore, was he?
"You have a concussion, Shinji. Even if it is minor, I would hardly say that's doing fine." Shinji wilted as Misato's attention focused on him. It was like watching a leaf held over a match curl and die.
"Misato's right, you fool. Shut up and rest," Asuka commanded. "I don't need anyone to come to my rescue." While Shinji shrank still further into his chair, Misato whirled on Asuka, an eyebrow slightly raised.
"Don't look at me like that!" Asuka demanded. "Christ, you're as bad as Wondergirl." Her words marinated in disgust. "I carried him all the way to that godforsaken doctor, so he sure as hell better live long enough to pay me back!"
Misato chose her moment to strike. "Maybe you shouldn't have done anything to him then."
"But he was..." Asuka bit her lip, but too late. Damning words had already tumbled free. She clenched her jaw and sneered at Misato. "Fine. Victory is yours, Misato." Asuka settled against her chair's back and resumed an air of disdain. "I punched the pervert, and it's not as if he didn't deserve it, peeping at me coming out of the bath."
Misato suddenly felt like one of Asuka's often referenced morons. She should have guessed. For a girl who was so obnoxiously proud of her body, Asuka had issues regarding it that would make a Christian nun feel positively sluttish. Numerous times Shinji had been dressed down for as little as glancing at her in pajamas the wrong way, so if he had actually caught a glimpse of Asuka nude... Kaji would probably remark upon its poetic justice.
"You weren't exactly, uh, in the bathroom," Shinji ventured.
Asuka delivered Shinji a vicious look for his slipup before striking a finger in Misato's direction. "And whose fault was that?" the girl charged. Her posture left the small party in little doubt as to who was being implicated. "She didn't launder so much as a sock, not to mention the towels! How else was I supposed to get back to my room?"
"There are plenty of clean towels in the closet, Asuka," Misato said. The words struck with such calm matter-of-factness that Asuka could only sputter for a response. "What's the matter?" the Major persisted. "You didn't think to look there?" Misato smiled and shook her head. "And your transcripts from Germany said you were advanced."
Bingo, Misato thought. She settled comfortably in her chair, and enjoyed the progression of reds that blazed through Asuka's cheeks.
"So, your solution is to parade around the apartment naked?" Asuka forced the words from behind clenched teeth. She suddenly leapt to her feet and kicked her chair away. "Why bother even being naked if whoever wants is supposed to see that much of me? I should just go out in a too-tight mini dress that barely covers my ass! It'll have about the same effect!"
Misato matched Asuka's stance in an instant. Her hands fidgeted about the edge of the table as if waiting for the order to seize and fling it away. With the obstacle gone, the teen would be only a few short steps removed. "Are you implying something?" she growled.
"I am," Asuka spat, 'and..."
"STOP! Both of you stop!"
Shock transmuted further venom to water as both women turned to see Shinji risen and livid. His features were drawn in sharp lines and his voice carried in it his father's power. That alone was enough to weaken the knees, but the frozen expanse of the Commander's eyes returned them both to their seats.
The moment Asuka and Misato touched their chairs, Shinji deflated. His head dropped and his defiant posture slackened. As he was when the conversation had started, Shinji seemed to fold in upon himself like daylily blossoms fleeing the sun.
"This isn't worth fighting over," he mumbled. "I'm not worth fighting over." Shinji offered his housemates a pleading look before quickly exiting the kitchen.
---
Asuka lay atop her bed, staring at the ceiling. Life wasn't fair. It was bad enough being as refined as she was and forced to live with a lowlife like Shinji, but to be under the thumb of Misato was cruelty on a whole other level. The woman had the maturity of a five-year-old, and as such was prone to fits of incomprehensible behavior. Her current whim demanded that Asuka 'think about what she had done' for the rest of the day.
Think about what she had done? Hah! It wasn't her fault idiot Shinji slipped on the beer can and cracked his head against the nearest available table. Her only hand in the entire affair had been exacting retribution for Shinji's lecherous action, and that was well within her rights as the exploited party. Besides, some praise was deserved for hiking across town with the fool on her back. But had any been forthcoming? Of course, not! It made much more sense to punish her for something that was obviously caused by Misato's slovenly habits.
Asuka snarled and whipped her pillow from her bed. It plowed through a stack of cassettes like a canon ball shattering a poorly mortared bulwark. "Damnit, this is pissing me off!" There had to be something else she could do while not exacerbating Misato's peevish mood. Just sitting around and contemplating Shinji's ineptitude and the reality of her innocence was sickening.
As in the morning, however, Asuka's options were few. The school day was already finished, and even if it weren't, there was no guarantee Misato would consent to her attending. Phone calls were forbidden; it'd be tomorrow at earliest that she would be able to vent to Hikari. No handheld, no music, no books: anything and everything that could distract her Misato had stricken from the ledger of possibility. There was only Shinji gaping, Shinji backpedaling, Shinji yelling, Shinji falling, Shinji, Shinji, Shinji, Shinji!
Asuka wrapped her arms around her head and pushed her face to her knees.
Think about what you've done.
"I know why I did it," Asuka gratingly said. "He deserved it, after all." Her fingers tightened around her skull. "To think he had the nerve when I had nothing at all..."
No! No, damnit! Asuka refused to fall for it. She was not going to let Misato manipulate her into feeling guilty. She had done nothing wrong! Nothing! It was their fault! Everyone else's! They had attacked her, ganged up on her like waves taking their turn to strike the shore. But Asuka would not break; she would not erode under the assault. She was much too strong for that.
Asuka knew exactly what she had done and why. No crime harried her conscience.
---
Dinner was a complete waste that evening. Shinji barricaded himself in his bedroom, refusing entreaties to come out on the flimsy excuse of a headache; his stubborn hermitage left Misato the de facto executive chef. This, as anyone who enjoys food might tell, was an unfortunate thing.
Misato, however, was determined to rise above her culinary challenges and create something delicious. She tore through the freezer, refrigerator, and cupboards seizing upon only the very tastiest instant foods and those that mixed well with them. Fifteen minutes of microwave powered cooking and a judicious amount of stirring later Misato set dinner upon the table.
She gave her creations a satisfied nod before heading off to collect the children. Despite her earnest efforts, however, Misato could not wrest Shinji from his room any more successfully with offers of food than anything else she had tried. It seemed he was simply too afraid that, placed again in a room with both his housemates, he would be the catalyst for another fight. Misato couldn't blame him. She had let Asuka get the better of her, and what was supposed to have been an extraction of fact and truth turned into a verbal brawl.
Still, one day Shinji would have to face up to hardship. It was fine for him to avoid life's little pains currently; he was, after all, an Eva pilot, and that earned him a free pass in the 'standing up to shit' department. Eva wouldn't last forever, though. The angels would eventually be defeated. A future sunrise would erase all Shinji's excuses and force upon him the adversity of normal human existence. Misato hoped her ward would learn to be ready for that eventuality.
Contrary to Shinji's isolationism, Asuka quickly fled her bedroom at dinner's invitation. She was like a primary student flinging herself from the school building at lunch. Misato took this as a good sign, and thought they could perhaps discuss the day's events more calmly than the afternoon had allowed. Asuka, however, was in no such mood.
To say Asuka effected a wall of silence would do her effort an injustice. It was similar to a fort or citadel upon whose ramparts Misato's attempts at conversation were smashed with greater severity than a swarm of tiny arrows. Throughout dinner Asuka took refuge at the heart of this castle, overseeing its defense in the face of Misato's stubborn assaults. Even an offer of revealing the children's latest synch test scores could not help bypass the stalwart defenders. Utterly shut out and defeated, Misato could only nod as Asuka excused herself and left to resume her punishment.
Taking Asuka's departure as a definitive 'all clear,' Pen-Pen ambled into the kitchen and chirped a greeting. Misato returned the pleasantry, but quickly left him to examine the contents of his dinner bowl. She sagged in her chair, snapped the tab on a fresh beer, and took several generous swigs. A sudden wooden thwack traveled the apartment; Asuka's bedroom door was feeling the brunt of her frustration again.
At least the girl was doing what she was told, Misato thought wryly, downing another gulp of beer. As much as hitting Shinji was unacceptable, as much as her behavior this afternoon was infuriating, and as much as being ignored caused Misato's ire to skyrocket, the reality of Asuka actually carrying out her punishment was promising. Maybe, just maybe, not everything Misato had wanted to impart to the girl had been as ineffectual as it seemed.
Could it be she was actually improving at this parenting bit?
Misato nearly choked on her latest mouthful. Parenting? Yeah, right. If that wasn't the blind leading the blind then she didn't know what was. She had no grounding, no basis for instructing children in life. Hell, she found responsibility itself practically shameful. With those qualifications only a fool would descend anywhere near the cavity-ridden burden that her parents had so elegantly mutilated.
"It's too late, though, isn't it?" Misato whispered.
Pen-Pen glanced up at his mistress. Doubt had crept into her features, so he left his dinner and waddled over to Misato. He turned his eyes to hers, patted her thigh with his wing, and cooed gently.
Misato smiled crookedly at the bird and ruffled the red tufts above his eyes. "Thanks Pen-Pen. And you're right. I've been doing it all afternoon, haven't I? Longer than that even." She seemed to consider herself before adding, "God, I feel old now."
Misato escaped her momentary dejection, grabbed hold of her auxiliary beer and slid it across the table to the seat opposite hers. Pen-Pen, recognizing the invitation, abandoned his ministrations and climbed quickly onto the waiting chair. He flashed his claw, opened the beer, and held it up, reflecting Misato's adopted salute.
"Here's to family, Pen-Pen, in all its screwed up glory. Pray we survive the experience. Cheers!"
End Chapter One
