Misato admitted defeat.
"But what does it all mean, Ritsu?"
Ritsu sighed.
"How much simpler can I make it?" She massaged her temples with one hand. "It's still impossible. His synch ratio shouldn't be this high. It can't be."
"Well what is it, anyway?"
Ritsuko gave her one of her 'you really don't know?' looks.
"I don't! Nobody told me."
"What?"
"...nothing. So how high is it, anyway? I'm guessing it's good, impossible or not."
"Sixty of a theoretical one hundred per-cent."
Misato frowned. "Rei's isn't that high, is it?"
"Yes, it's much lower." Ritsuko gave her a pointed glance. "And she's been with us for years."
Ritsuko turned back to her work.
The moment dragged on a little too long with Misato adding an unnecessary, "What are you implying?"
Ritsuko seemed to give the question serious weight before answering. "I don't know. He's the only pilot to have synchronised with an Eva for the first time at his age. It could just be something about his mental development."
"...could?"
Ritsuko appeared loathe to admit it but... "I just don't know."
She produced a cigarette and lighter from somewhere, and put them to good use as she started on her first cigarette of the hour.
Misato checked the clock. Not even two minutes past said hour. Three, max.
Her gaze wandered back to the screens, back to the video feed of the 'Third Child' suited up and concentrating on strengthening his connection to Unit One.
"Did intelligence get back to you yet?"
Ritsuko was busy typing something out, multitasking again now that their little heart-to-heart was over.
"Nope. Still going through the details. They're still pretty sure they got it right the first time."
"Hmm," Ritsuko stopped for a moment to tap the ash off her cigarette. She stubbed it out and continued. "We're almost done here. You can collect him in 20."
"Right." She turned to leave since she was done here. "Seeya!"
"Wait." She hadn't even taken two steps; Ritsuko walked into whispering range as she turned around.
"..."
"What?"
Ritsuko gave the ceiling an 'I can't believe I'm really going to say this' look.
"...technically, I don't think you were in breach of regulations."
"Huh?"
"It's something of an oversight, but Nerv doesn't actually have regulations concerning the conduct of its employees outside the workplace," she said as if to explain everything. "Just one of the UN's many oversights."
She pre-empted Misato with a quick addendum. "The law still applies, Misato." And another. "The law."
Sensing her friend's irritation, Misato assumed her best almost-straight face and adopted her most proper tone.
"I thank you, Dr. Akagi. Having learned that, I am much reassured."
Ritsuko glared into her polite smile for a few seconds longer before sighing again. "You're welcome. Goodbye."
"Tata!"
She dismissed herself and waited until the door had shut behind her before allowing herself a quiet chuckle.
"My name is Shinji Ikari."
The teacher gave him a prompting look that said 'and...?'
Shinji gave him a dead look that also said 'and...?'
Ten seconds later, Mister Miyagi folded and allowed the boy to take his seat.
Kensuke continued to slouch, frowning in deep thought. A minute later, his face lit up and he started to type with gusto.
For the fifth time, Shinji dismissed the message and continued to read at his desk.
"Shinji," Mister Miyagi called. "In what month was the Treaty of Shimonoseki concluded?"
He didn't look up. "April 17th."
"What? I couldn't hear you."
After a pause, someone called out, "He said April!"
Mister Miyagi adjusted his glasses with one hand.
"...yes, that's correct. Very good."
Hitting the 'enter' key he could see the message icon flash on Shinji's screen a few seconds later. And a few seconds after that he put down his book and opened the message in a smooth, lazy motion. It was the same as the others.
Are you the pilot?
Shinji quickly dismissed it again. He returned to reading, but stopped after a moment to stare into the distance.
Kensuke sent another message. He couldn't ignore them forever. And besides, lunch break was in just forty-three-and-a-half minutes.
Instead of opening it, Shinji brought up some text-only programs and started typing rapidly. Frowning, Kensuke sent another message, only for it to be ignored as well. Giving up - no, biding his time - he resumed reading his military magazines.
At forty-one minutes to lunchtime, he looked up from his magazines to notice that his screen was blank. Try as he might, his computer refused to start again.
He gave the new guy a suspicious look.
It's not like he was using it anyway. But this new guy... that was a useful skill he had there.
"So, did you?"
A twinge of annoyance crossed Shinji's bored features.
Touji grabbed him by the collar, drawing back a fist to strike. Kensuke felt he should say something again, maybe, but Touji just wasn't listening at this stage.
As he watched, Shinji's drink tumbled from his hand. The new kid sighed as he watched it bounce, then roll across the pavement and spill its precious contents in the hot sun.
Staring after it, he spoke to them for the first time.
"Sorry, Touji. It's nothing personal..."
"I just don't get it, Shinji."
She spared him an aside glance. He continued staring into the distance, pressing the ice pack against the bruise on his cheek.
"Why didn't you hit him? He says he acted in self-defence."
He produced his travel-pillow from somewhere, holding it up to the window and resting his head against it.
"I couldn't do it."
The road ahead was fairly straight, and devoid of traffic. She allowed herself a sideways, enquiring look.
He gave her a wry smile, closing his eyes and facing forward again. "I never can."
His voice had an unidentifiable timbre. It sounded familiar, somehow.
"Only when they're Angels. It took me a long time to accept that."
The smile became more wistful. Taking it in, she nearly forgot to mind her driving.
"Sometimes you have to hurt people to help them. But this wasn't like those times."
He gave her that knowing look again - the one that had her so spooked these past few days - as he continued.
"I know you understand."
She projected confidence and understanding, grinning off the raw... failing a better word, creepiness he'd been exuding just then. "I guess I do."
Touji threw him one last, weirded-out look before stalking away.
Torn, Kensuke decided to approach him (the new kid) anyway. Touji wasn't a fast walker, so he had a minute.
"Hey there. Uh, sorry about that. His little sister got caught up in that mess the other day, and...what?"
Still lying where he had fallen, the new kid had murmured something. He spoke the nonsense softly, but meaningfully.
"Never could figure that one out."
Kensuke blinked.
"It's like she wanted to get hurt. Seriously..."
...the hell? He could see why Touji had decked him.
"Um... right. Well, uh, see you!"
He beat a hasty retreat, speed-walking to catch up with Touji who, sitting by his favourite garden bed, wasn't going anywhere. So why was he rushing?
He slowed down for the last few metres. His friend looked kinda shaken up.
"You alright?"
"Shaddup."
"You shut up."
He sat down next to him.
"No, but really. You okay?"
"Fine. Why you askin' me?"
"Why not? The new kid's fine, by the way."
A pause.
"You didn't have to do that for me, you know."
Another pause.
"I'd have preferred it if you didn't, actually-"
"-It was self-defence!" Toji blurted, crossing his arms again.
Kensuke made a point of finishing as if he hadn't been so rudely interrupted "-even if he's kind of a dick."
More thoughtful silence.
"You saw it. How was I supposed to know mister super-hacker was gonna chicken out?"
"Yeah, I know."
Touji sniffed.
"But we still don't know if he's the pilot or not."
Toji pretended not to have heard the whiny-ness in his voice.
"Ya gonna ask him?"
...it was kind of a stupid idea, anyway.
"No."
Touji snorted, shifting his arms and looking away.
"Told ya it was stupid."
"Alright. Scissors, paper, rock!"
Shinji stared disinterestedly at her fist before turning to the calendar, signing and underlining his name at the top of it. Apparently satisfied, insofar as he ever appeared satisfied – i.e. never – he walked off with the marker.
"Hey! Where are you going?"
"I'll do it."
"Huh?"
He called back to her. "All of it."
"What?"
He continued into the kitchen as she started after him.
"I'm not having you do everything, this is—"
"—your flat, but it's unfair for you to do the housework too." He didn't look around from his position at the sink where he had started washing the dishes. There wasn't much to do; most of it was just pots and packets which he set to one side for disposal.
"Don't worry about it. Just relax. Work's only going to get harder on you as more arrive."
"More?"
"Angels. And pilots."
She frowned, hands on hips. He spoke before she could declare her intent to do the laundry while he washed up.
"You're not getting the most out of your clothes-washing machine. Leave it to me. Really. It's okay, just relax."
'Just relax?' What was he? Her…
"Butlers are supposed to direct the other servants of the household. I'm more of a maid-of-all-trades."
She blinked. He chuckled as if savouring her reaction, still not turning around.
"Really, just relax. I know how hard you work. You could use the R&R. And no, I don't expect you to be happy with it. But I do expect you to do it."
Forceful niceness.
Firm consideration.
He reminded her of her father, in a way.
Scrubbing the grease out of a bowl, Shinji spoke.
"How are the other pilots?"
Pausing for thought – who'd told him about them? – she only took a few seconds to reply.
Then paused, reconsidering.
There were times for honesty, and then...
"The First and Second children. How are they?"
She breathed - a sigh of relief? Gods knew she could do without giving more classified information away – before leaning back against the kitchen bench, arms folded, and gave the third child an audible answer.
"They're fine."
She would've gone on to query his question, but apparently her best was not enough. He turned to examine her. "They're not, are they?"
She was very tempted to say, "Yes, they are! And why are you asking, anyway?"
Instead, she said "...what?" like an idiot.
"You lied."
"Um..." What? Well, this was awkward. She silenced her inner child as it called her to cry a simple "No, I didn't!"
Sporting a dull, somewhat troubled look, he turned back to the dishes. "Is someone dead?"
Damn. How could she—
"You don't have to put it nicely. Just tell me."
Sighing, she deflated. "The First Child is fine, she's recovering well but still in hospital."
A deep, calming breath...and out again. Then...
"The Second Child is..." Misato began.
"Dead?"
It was funny, how casually he said it. Like it had long since lost any real meaning to him.
Or maybe she was just reading too much into things. Probably, even.
"Yeah. It happened last night."
His scrubbing seemed to slow a little.
"An old friend of mine found her...he's pretty torn up about the whole thing. Thinks it's his fault."
She sighed. This had become a very sigh-heavy conversation. But he had asked.
"She had a history of mental issues, so it's not like it came out of nowhere. But he tells me it was pretty sudden."
Finishing the last of the plates, he moved on to the cutlery. There wasn't much of it, not after he'd thrown her old and only slightly mouldy – but still perfectly useable! – sets of wooden chopsticks away.
"Please give him my condolences. I'm sure it wasn't his fault."
"Yeah, well...I will. He's taking it pretty hard."
Head in hand, for the first time she wondered why she was telling him this.
He tensed up for a moment as if to say something.
The moment passed without a word.
"Shinji?"
More washing.
His hesitation was on the verge of rudeness when he replied.
"I was kind of looking forward to meeting her, I guess."
A crush? Probably not, especially since their never having met precluded an actual crush. He seemed to anticipate, correctly, that he would be asked to go on.
"A beer?"
Subject avoided. And now he was the one offering her alcohol. Even if it was hers, after all. It was a tempting offer, but she didn't want to be seen as a slacker when there was work to be done.
"No thanks."
"Sure? I could use one."
Well. That changed things. Or did it? Celebration or not, she really shouldn't have given him some last night.
This was a special case, though.
Or was it? He didn't even know her. She'd only met the girl once, and briefly at that. It had been hearing Kaji – always the smooth operator, not that she'd heard from him in years – so...distraught that had really driven it home.
Pulling two cans from the fridge, she opened them and set one down at his elbow.
Corruption of a minor indeed.
Then again, if the UN itself made a soldier of him, who were they to say he couldn't drink?
"Thanks." He stopped to take a swig, then another.
Unprompted, he seemed to continue from where he had left off.
"I guess, when you do these kinds of things together...I mean, I…I..."
He started giggling as if distract himself from the fact that he was beginning to cry.
Not again. She moved to...she didn't quite know what, but he had thrust out a palm to keep her back.
"I'm fine."
He sniffed, wiping his eyes with his wrists before tilting his head back to down the rest of the can. Setting it aside, he applied more cleaning fluid to the sponge and set about the cutlery again.
"Anyway..." he started "Sorry about that. I'll be fine."
He picked up the pace again. She didn't notice when it'd dropped off.
"You'd think it'd get easier. So many times now." He giggled again. "I've seen worse."
Apart from making little sense, as per usual, he sure didn't sound fine. Fighting back the (mothering) instinct to hold him over his objections, she limited herself to settling a hand on his shoulder. Noting his non-resistance, she moved up behind him. She would make this reassurance thing work, dammit.
It seemed to have some effect as he settled down a little.
"Much worse. You should've seen me when my sister died."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. Never mind me, you should've seen her...but don't be. It wasn't your fault."
'Obviously,' went unsaid. Of course.
He had a sister?
Her beer was practically full. Ten seconds later, she flattened the can and paused. Taking Shinji's, she let go of him to put them both in the designated tin-can rubbish bag.
An hour later, he was done.
"Somehow, I thought you'd be more obsessive about it."
"About what?"
"The cleaning."
Without looking up from his book, he quoted: "A clean home is a sign of pride in one's household. A spotless house is a sign of a wasted life."
She chuckled. "True, that."
Not that she didn't like her flat, of course. He liked it too, apparently. Which was good.
Sipping another beer, she tried to pick up where he'd left off earlier.
"What did you mean about doing things together?"
"What?"
"You said it earlier, when I told you about... her."
That got his attention; his eyes stopped moving about the page.
He gave it visible thought before replying.
"We're pilots. Only another pilot could really understand." He gave her a small smile. "Though some people come close."
She returned it, half-surprised at how easily the motion came to her.
Eyeing her beer, she raised it in a salute to the heavens.
"Here's to Miss Shikinami."
She noted his blank look before actually drinking to the poor girl's memory. "The second child." she explained.
His face remained blank.
I remain right chuffed at your response to the prologue! It's very encouraging to see so many bright (predominantly young) lads and lassies are out there and commenting.
My beloved beta-reader, whom I now thank again for her time, tells me she can't for the life of her picture Anime!Shinji giggling (I confess I'm rather fond of Manga!Shinji's snarky moments). I think she'd be right, under normal circumstances.
Do try not to get those expectations too high! I'm new to this business, and flowery writing does not - by itself - a good story make.
Even if it is fabulously flowery.