CRB 4407
By Jintsu Wednesday, November 15, 2006
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Disclaimer:
As much as it agonizes me to say this, I did not create any of these characters except for Sato Hitomi and Kurokawa Masahiro. Much to my disappointment, I also did not create the initial plot for this series. That credit goes to Hideaki Anno alone.
So the hoard of slavering lawyers can go lie down for a century or two. This was written for fun, not for profit. I'm only borrowing the characters for a little while. I promise I'll give them back!
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Chapter Four:
Fight the Good Fight
It's not how fast you can go
The force goes into the flow
If you pick-up the beat
You can forget about the heat…
Rush
Marathon
Power Windows
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I am sitting at home on my balcony after my very entertaining evening. Kicking back in my recliner, I regard the city as it is softly wrapped in its shroud of twilight. Florescent and incandescent illumination slowly blaze to life in a languid wave from the east, traveling towards the western horizon.
Taking small sips of my Kirin Iciban beer, I reminisce over my date with Hitomi.
For a first date, that did not go too badly. She did like my gifts so that is a point in my favour. Our conversation was wonderful; I did not get tongue-tied or say anything out of place. The walk afterwards was a joy that I haven't experienced in a long time. The only faux paux was the upcoming trip and yet to be disclosed Angel capture.
So now I know where I am in relation to this world's time line. It could have been worse: dropped in during the middle of the JSSDF massacre in NERV.
I take a long pull on the Iciban bottle, and remember the brutal ending of the anime. Even though it is a warm and comfortable night, I feel a shiver run down my spine. I can try to do something about all this pain and angst but I'm not sure what I may be able to do. I am only one person, and a kid to boot. Who would listen to me? I am sure Ikari-Ass would, and then send me to the people with rubber hoses and electrodes. That would end my ability to do anything, at that point. Kaji might do the same thing to me since he is a triple agent. I trust Ritsuko about as far as I could throw an EVA. Misato is still an unknown; she may be the only person I might be able to confide in.
Twilight has finally given way to early-evening darkness. I look upwards to scan the skies for the familiar stars and constellations that I remember from home. Slightly out of whack, but still recognizable, I begin picking out the stars and patterns I know. After a short while of stargazing, I drain my beer and go inside for another.
Bypassing the sake on the door of the fridge, I remove another bottle of Iciban from the six-pack on the shelf. Shuffling back to the living room in the near-dark apartment, I pause before my laptop. The glow from the screensaver gives the area an eerie light, as if someone had left some sort of luminous waterfall turned on. From the JBL Pro speakers the melodious voice of Tarja Turunen wafts through my apartment. "Everdream" is just finishing, the next track will be "Deep, Silent, Complete." If a person could ever need and have a night wish come true, it would be me; here and now.
Use that almost five decades worth of grey matter and worldly experience to figure out what your next moves will be. And what did Ikari mean by the "three of us" when I was in his office?
Pondering these thoughts, I go back to the balcony and its velvet-enshrouded darkness; the symphonic power metal of Nightwish softly following me into the shadows as I resume my stargazing.
Ensconcing myself in my comfortable recliner, I reminisce about my driving lessons and surprising encounter with the First Children.
First off, I look at Takumi. He is older, Second Impact has not affected him. He is mature, more experienced and comfortable with himself. Gone is the uncertain boy-racer. In his place is a professional racer; steely nerves and ice-water running through his veins.
I then look at the course he specified. It is a wonderful training ground for the uninitiated. It will take the unsuspecting driver, and lull them into a feeling of comfort. Until said driver hits certain points in the course. Then the road will kill them. Run too fat in a corner, shave an apex too thin, you will die. Centripetal force and gravity will be your undertakers.
Taking into account the suspension set-up of "Iron Helix," and the training that I absorbed from Mid-Ohio, I run the course in my mind. What I find is not pretty. Takumi is right, I need a navigator to guide me through the course. There are too many blind curves, hairpins, and terrain changes for me to keep up with at this time, driving by myself.
Then there was the hard-charging green R-34, which whipped into the tunnel. Focusing on that incident, I slow time. The vehicle pitches tightly into the corner, aiming for the best line through the tunnel. Zooming-in on the cockpit, I see not blue hair, but the intense visage of the First Children. She is bending the beast to her will, G-forces ramming her body to the outside of the curve. Her cerulean eyes are narrowed in concentration, evaluating the road in front of her as she pitches into the corner. Then she is gone, the tunnel swallowing the still-accelerating R-34.
The mental picture I get is Rei driving full-out, while listening to "Jane", by Jefferson Starship. A lethal combination if you can't handle it. But then again, "Jane" is in 2/2 time. I drive in 4/4 time, my song timing for routes is very well planned out. And the song has to feel right for the course. I've done this before, chopping almost a minute off my best time listening to music that matched the course.
Oh, yeah! Inject the Venom, Sick Again, Manic Mechanic, Night of Fire, Noizy Tribe, Dogfight, all songs that I can drive hard while listening to.
I come out of my trance, and reflect upon what I have discovered. The driving I shove to the back of my mind. I will take care of that the next time I drive the course.
Rei is a different matter with which to contend.
No wonder she got to the cages before everyone else in the series! Did Gendo buy the car for her, or did she get it on her own? Who taught her to drive like that? But then, if you know that you cannot die, how would you attack a course?
With no fear, dive into the corners as tight as you can get. Use the whole road for your line; be as aggressive as you can force the machine to be. Do this until something breaks, you die, or you finish the course.
I pity tha fool that gets between the First Child and her goal!
My musing is interrupted by the shrill tones of my telephone. I unfold myself and leave the recliner. Leaving my balcony and walking into the kitchen, I grab the foul instrument from the wall, and put it to my ear.
"Moshi, moshi?" I ask.
"Hello, Hiro. I was just wondering if you got home all right. I saw you get into that car that almost hit you. I called the Police, but they said that it was NERV business. Are you all right?"
My heart is warmed by the concern Hitomi has shown.
DAMN! MY EYES ARE TEARING UP! WHO ARE YOU TO DO THIS TO ME?
"Thank you for your concern, Hi-chan. That was my driving instructor. He took me out for some lessons in driving."
"So, you're all right then? I was worried about kidnapping and such. You just got in the car, and drove off. I've never seen that car around here before."
"My instructor is from farther north of us. This is the first time he has been down here. One of the people at NERV recommended him as an excellent driver and teacher."
"Wait a minute, why do you need lessons in driving? Are you getting a car? How can you own a car; you're only fourteen? What's going on Hiro?"
"Hi-chan, I already own a car."
I hope that I do.
"It's the same type that I had while I was in America. As for owning a car, the government doesn't care how old you are, as long as you can insure it and pay the taxes on it. Driving it is another matter, entirely. My license comes from America; it is an International drivers license. So I can drive anywhere in the world with this permit. The problem is that the roads are so narrow here. I didn't have that situation in America; the roads are all super highways compared to this."
"What kind of car is it, and when do I get a ride, Hiro?"
"As soon as the mechanic releases the car to me, you'll get a ride in it. The car is a Chevrolet Camaro Z/28, assembled in 1986. It is known as a poor man's Corvette. It's red, with black interior colouring."
"Does this car have hood scoops that look like nostrils?"
"Yes, why do you ask?"
"I saw one like that a long time ago."
"You did? Where was it? I thought I had the only one with that hood?"
"Uhhh… It was pretty far north-east from here. I don't think its even on the road, anymore. The driver was a real idiot, extremely snide and rude."
"That's a shame that the car is gone, there aren't many of them left on the road. That guy must have really been bad to incite your ire. I'm glad I'm not him.
"Be happy you're not. At the time, I wanted to kill him for his impudence."
"Woah! He must have extremely pissed you off!" I've never heard you being this angry about anything."
"It was a bad time; right before a flight I was taking… Can we talk about something else? This brings back bad memories of that time."
I have never heard Hitomi like this; she never glossed-over anything we talked about. This must really bother her. Time to switch to a new topic.
"So… when is our next date? I really want to go out again. How about a real dinner at a restaurant in town?"
"I'll talk to you at school about that Hiro. I have to go now. Talk to you later, Ja ne."
With that, I end up listening to a dial tone. I hope that I didn't piss her off. Hanging the phone up, I shuffle back to the couch, to do some more thinking.
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The next day at school, Hitomi seems to be distant, like she has something on her mind that won't let go. Letting the whole idea of asking her out at this time go, I concentrate my time on my fellow pilots. Since I know that Shinji cooks for Asuka and Misato, I work this angle. Cornering Shinji at the lunch break, I ask him about his cooking.
"So, what do you think about adding leeks to your Miso soup?" I ask him as we climb the steps to the roof of the school.
"I like it as a different embellishment for the stock Miso that so many people use every day. On top of that, sometimes I like to add cubed potatoes. It's just a thought, I'm not saying that what you do is bland or anything like that. It's just that other people have other ideas that maybe something that you might try. Let me give you my recipe for Miso soup, then you decide what you want."
"That's a good idea, Masahiro. Let me have your recipe, and I'll look at it tonight. God knows, Asuka has been asking for different tastes in my cooking. Maybe this will take away some of the bitching from her," Shinji states as he opens his bento.
As Kensuke and Toji make their way to our spot, I mention to Shinji: "I'm going grocery shopping after school, want to come with me?"
Picking up on the end of our conversation, Toji exclaims, "Don't tell me that you're throwing the "Red Devil" over for Masahiro, Shinji! I thought you went for girls!"
"Toji," I grate out in mock-anger, "you better be careful, or I'll tell the Class Rep that you have a crush on her."
"WOAH! WAITAMINIT! Where do you get off saying that about me?"
"Because," Kensuke says, interjecting himself into the conversation, "everyone except for the two of you can see it."
"You must be blind, Toji. She has done EVERYTHING but throw herself at you, and you still can't see it." He pushes his glasses back up on his nose with his middle finger, staring directly at Toji.
"Come on, man, look at reality. The whole class knows about this, but you seem to be dense, or totally oblivious to what is going on. If Hikari wasn't so fixated on you, I would have tried for her."
At this point, you could hear a pin drop at one hundred metres.
Looking at the frozen tableau of two shocked teens and one smirking otaku, I pick-up my last thread of conversation where we were interrupted.
"So… do you still want to go grocery shopping with me, Shinji?"
"Aahhh… It's better than listening to this crap." Shinji says with a small amount of embarrassment.
Luckily, the bell rings for the end of lunch. I will e-mail Shinji in class with a list for anything else we might need to pick-up at the grocery store.
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Stopping at the local grocery store, Shinji and I cruise the isles for ingredients to be used in our dinners. I notice he tends to pick bland or standard items for his cooking. I watch as he grabs a quarter-kilogram of white Miso. I myself use red Miso in my recipes. As Shinji continues to shop, I take note of the differences between us. Five minutes later, he is done with his shopping. I haven't even started on my own list of things to buy. It was just interesting to see what a native would choose for their kitchen.
Of course, being a Nipponese wanna-be, my tastes are quite different from the general masses of the host country. I seem to like the more flavorful and spicy tastes in Japanese cooking.
I start my own shopping at this time, picking up some Marukome red Miso, two hundred and fifty grams of Daikon, the same mass in scallions, two kilograms each of new potatoes and Jasmine rice. Shredded carrots, frozen corn and peas, and a dozen eggs round out my grocery list. Shinji looks at his purchases in the cart, and then looks at mine.
"What is all that for? Are you having a party with a bunch of people?" he hesitantly asks me.
"This is my normal shopping for a week for myself. Most of this is for my Miso soup. I have mushrooms left at home, so I didn't buy any. Meat I bought last week, so I don't need any now." I reply, as I start loading our plunder on the checkout belt.
It is a good thing that this store is so close to the apartment. I wouldn't be able to carry all of this too far. Shinji has three small bags; no problem for him to get home. I have five bags to juggle. Slapping my NERV card down on the belt, I wait for my total.
"You didn't have to pay for everything, I have money from Misato to buy groceries," Shinji exclaims, visibly upset at having someone buy for him.
"It doesn't matter, the money all comes from the same place. You won't be able to spend all that you earned, anyway. Gendo will make sure of that."
"What do you mean by that, Hiro? What does my father have to do with our earnings? What do you…."
"Don't even worry about it, Shinji. Let's just say that he isn't worried about what we spend. It's all short-term loss to him, anyway. He's looking at the long term benefits.
Shinji gets a weird look on his face, as if he can't believe what he's hearing. He turns to face me and says the one thing I never expected him to say: "You sound like Kaji or Misato when you talk like that. Like you're older, or something. It just sounded weird for a second."
SHIT! I'm falling back into my verbose mode. Fourteen year-old kids do not talk like that. I'm border-line talking down to him, also. Wake your ignorant ass up, and get with the programme!
"It's from going to American schools. They try to get us to use a larger vocabulary so we don't all sound like we came from the backwoods."
"God, I hope he buys that lame excuse."
"That sounds lame to me," he observes, staring at me owl-eyed. "They didn't teach Nihongo in American schools, did they? How did you learn to speak it so fluently, and with a Tokyo accent?"
Picking my bags from the end of the check-out lane, I nod toward the exit door while walking towards it. Once we have left the store, I continue our conversation. Dredging-up memories from Masahiro's past, I spin my next lie.
"My mother taught me the language, along with English, before I started school. Her parents immigrated to America, and taught her the language the same way. She said I should embrace my heritage of two countries by learning about both, equally. Her parents came from old Tokyo, so that's how I got my accent. Mom always frowned on me when I used any language badly, or inaccurately."
Stopping at an intersection, we check for traffic, looking right then left before entering the crosswalk. Seeing no traffic or insanely-driven blue Renaults, we still hurriedly make our way across the intersection.
"So," I inquire, "What kind of things do you like to do, besides cooking?"
"Well, I enjoy playing my cello; it also helps me to calm down when things are bugging me. The Arcade is fun for games and hanging-out with Toji and Kensuke."
He starts to slow down in his walking pace, his gaze slightly downcast as he must be thinking about his life. I can see that he is starting to fall into a melancholy state, as I remember that he doesn't have a lot of hobbies to keep himself occupied.
Racking my brain, I try to think of things that he might like to do that I have knowledge of and interest in.
He plays the cello, so he is an artist.
Music, painting, maybe photography, and astronomy might be some topics to broach to him.
"I got some ideas for things to do Shinji," I remark, breaking both of us out of our respective introspective states, "I'll tell you about them when we get back and start dinner."
"That's … great, Masahiro. I'd like to do some other things. I… don't have a lot of fun right now, because of piloting."
Seeing him look at me with those shining eyes, so full of hope for something to eradicate his feelings of despair, I make a silent pledge to myself.
Gendo, you will pay for this atrocity, which you have visited upon your own son. Some how, some way, I will make sure that you will rue the day you left him to the tender mercies of ignominy.
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Making our way to the apartment complex, I drop off my groceries in my kitchen. Grabbing my laptop and a set of satellite speakers, I head next door. Pressing the Pin-pon doorbell, I wait for Shinji to let me in. As the door retracts silently into the wall, I am face-to-face with not Shinji, but Asuka.
Oh, shit. Not now; not when I just got him a little out of his shell.
I can feel the waves of animosity literally rolling off her and beating on my psyche. She very rudely stares me in the eyes and grates out:
"What do you want, Fourth? I …"
I don't give her a chance to start on a rant.
"Nanka monku aru-no-ka?" I confidently state to her face.
Don't back down to her. Show quiet confidence and strength. She respects these things in others.
To slam the last nail in the coffin, I frown menacingly and growl:
"Gan tobashiten-ja nëyo!"
I brush past the frozen Teutonic Terror as I kick off my zori sandals in the genkan. Padding barefoot into the kitchen, I set up my laptop and speakers on the table.
"What's cookin', Shinji?" I ask, as the wonderful aromas from the wok on the stove invade my nostrils.
"Uh… cashew chicken stir-fry, Masahiro. Do you like it?" he hesitantly asks me, a slight look of worry clouding his visage.
"I can always make something else for you."
Damn, he is just too self-effacing for his own good. He needs a huge dose of self-confidence!
Leaving my introspection behind, I warmly reply to him with a smile:
"No need for that, Shinji. This smells like a four-star dinner to me. I've been cooking for myself for four years, and this is better than I can do."
The hackles on the back of my neck rise as I feel another presence invade our camaraderie. Looking at him, I see his happiness from my comment melt away to a fearful frown.
"It doesn't smell that great, but at least its better than Misato's cooking," the Germanic Grinch huffs as she arrogantly marches into the kitchen. Spying my laptop on the table, she coyly whines:
"Whose ancient piece of Scheiße is this? Our school gives us a better dumb terminal than this thing!"
Looking at the screen, she reaches for the mouse and clicks on an open programme. iTunes opens, and Nightwish rolls from the speakers.
Ever felt away with me
Just once that all I need
Entwined in finding you one day…
"Was ist dies?" she asks, looking at me with a sense of wonder on her features.
Ever felt away without me
My love, it lies so deep
Ever dream of me…
"Das hier ist mein Computer," I reply softly to her. Seeing that Shinji is totally lost in the German language, I switch back to Nihongo.
"This is my computer; what you're listening to is Nightwish: Everdream."
Would you do it with me
Heal the scars and change the stars
Would you do it for me
Turn loose the heaven within…
The transfixed teens stare off into space, carried away by the beauty of orchestral music melded with power metal.
I'd take you away
Castaway on a lonely day
Bosom for a teary cheek
My song can but borrow your grace…
Leaving Asuka enthralled within the music, I turn to Shinji, and nudge him lightly. As he starts and looks at me, I smile and point my head back toward the stove. I see a grateful grin as he silently mouths the words:
"Thank you."
I'm just glad she didn't find the AMV of Evangelion: Everdream on the hard drive. I never would have been able to explain that away!
In a low voice, so he doesn't disturb Asuka, Shinji in a heartfelt tone states to me:
"That was really beautiful. I never heard anyone combine music like that before."
"Just wait 'till the next track," I smirk, "it just gets better."
Turning to the stove, I ask him, "Do you want me to start on the rice? I have a good fried rice recipe that I use at home."
"Sure, go ahead. I want to see how you make yours."
Stirring, chopping, grating, and frying we work together to produce a meal worthy of both of our talents. With the music playing softly in the background, I catch a glimpse of Shinji from the corner of my eye.
He looks so happy doing this; doing for others. I hope that I can somehow help him to see that he is a good person; worthy of the love of others. Something that I myself was denied for so long.
As I quickly fry the last ingredients for the fried rice, I hear a pair of shuffling feet stop behind us.
"Could… you make me a copy of that music, Masahiro?"
I turn to regard the Second Children, seeing something that I thought I would never see.
An honest, open smile.
"Sure, Asuka, all you need to do is ask. It's the least I can do for a friend."
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A/N:
Sorry for the long wait between chapters. It is extremely hard to get into the kids heads, sometimes. Moreover, it is difficult for me to try to write from the standpoint of a fourteen-year-old.
This chapter is basically some character interaction and build-up for the battle with Sandelphon. Since he doesn't have an EVA yet, don't expect to see 'Hiro at the volcano. However, this gives him time to interact with the First Children. (Yes, I'm going with the anime description for the children.)
Feedback, positive or negative is appreciated.
Positive will, of course, stroke the author's ego.
Negative will be used to fuel Unit-04.
Domo arigato.
Jintsu
Japanese translations taken from "Bad Japanese Words" at: www(dot) intercom(dot)net(slash)user(slash)logan1(slash)jap(dot)htm
What do you want ?
Nani-yo[f
Nanda-yo[m
Nanka monku aru-no-ka[m
[Three basic, all-around good phrases to use when someone really slots you off. These phrases usually command respect, or at least allow you to establish yourself.
[Japanese are infamous for staring. To have them return to their own affairs, a simple Nanda-yo?! or Nanka yö?! works well. But then again, the Japanese are also known for their persistence, too. If these two fail, simply tell them any of the following:
Don't stare at me!
Jiro jiro minai-deyo[f
Jiro jiro miruna-yo[m
Gan tobashiten-ja nëyo[m
Leave him/her alone!
Hottoke-ba[f/m
Hottoke-yo[m
Was ist dies- What is this
Das hier ist mein Computer- This is my computer
The band Nightwish and their music do not belong to me. They are copyrighted to their respective owners.
END:A/N