Accelerando Giocosamente

It's almost dawn. The air is crisp, even chilly; despite that, I'm still covered in sweat in the sleeping bag. The moon is getting to be full again, behind the red ring, and its angling light is a tangible thing now, illuminating our humble campsite like a faint silver spotlight in the heavens. One of the things it shows me is Shinji.

He's still sleeping. I kind of expected him to look annoyed or something in his sleep again, but he doesn't. He just looks like a normal sleeping person. Unworried.

Something brushes skin near my left eye; blinking, I snap my hand back to my chest and curl it into a fist. I've been doing that lately, when I get thoughtful, trying to touch the scar around my eye. In a way it creeps me out, knowing it's there but being unable to feel anything, since the skin is still as smooth as it should be. If there's no mirror nearby, I can almost believe it's not scarred at all.

After a moment I relax my fist and glance over at Shinji. He still hasn't awoken; my panicked reflexes must not have reached through whatever he's dreaming about.

There's something different about him now, though. The moonlight painting his face in silver and black suggests a slightly different set of lines than were there before, though nothing physical has changed about him. Instead, it's more of his... bearing, I suppose. Maybe being forced to fend for himself, having no one to rely on, for almost a month has done something to him. Whatever it is, it's left his mark on him, a mark visible even in sleep, if subtly.

Or maybe I'm just making it up. Maybe I'm just comparing him to the cowardly Shinji in my head.

In either case, last night wasn't as good as the other nights. Sleeping on this side of the firepit... it's not the same. Not as good as sleeping next to him.

My God. I can't believe I'm just lying here, watching him sleep. Thinking about sleeping with him. It's like... like we're... yeah. Not a chance. He has some serious questions to answer.

He might have been right, though. About the nerve connectors. Really, what am I trying to prove by wearing them now? He's right that there's no one to impress but him, and he knows my record as well as it can be known.

I snort at that. Maybe that is why I wear them.

In any case, though, they're useless. Nothing but ornamentation now. If I want to prove that he was wrong, that I've grown since Third Impact, the right thing to do would be to take them off.

Letting my eyes slide shut, I take a deep breath, then exhale slowly. Without looking I find the clips with my fingers, but there I pause unwillingly. They're smooth, cool to the touch, but almost like a part of me all the same; at the contact, I can feel it, the faintest whisper dancing along my spine, feedback from being touched by my own flesh.

Two tiny clicks is all it takes to unfasten them. They look almost like barrettes in the palm of my hand for the moment it takes me to shake off my reverie and stuff them into a pants pocket.

I feel weird now. Like my head is naked.

But I have to remember that he was right. I'm not a pilot anymore. There are no pilots anymore. Chewing a lip, I frown at him, through him.

Some time later, as the eastern sky is growing pale, Shinji stirs, and my attention snaps back to him. As he smacks his lips, his face undergoes a series of random expressions, starting at confusion before shifting through boredom and irritation before drifting into... I think wistfulness.

It's... kind of cute, really. Kind of funny. I've never watched anyone wake up before.

When his eyes finally slide open, the first thing they do is snap over to me, as though he's afraid I'll have disappeared during the night. Or maybe hopeful that I've disappeared during the night.

Long moments stretch into silence before it occurs to me that we're just staring at each other. Unease kicks in, triggering some reflexive behavior, and I scowl at him. "I'm going to go wash up and dress, perv. Try not to peek."

When he just blinks at me, I rise, gather my things and set off into the trees. I wonder if he was even totally awake. I probably just made an idiot of myself for nothing.

Maybe two hundred meters away from the campsite, I stop and frown back behind me, but the way is blocked; there are trees in every direction. He'd have to seek me out actively to see anything. Not like he would, though. Or would he? Maybe if he thought I wouldn't catch him. He seems like a very... opportunistic voyeur. I really need to call him out on that, but the moment has to be right. He can't be expecting it.

Moving quickly, I strip down to my skin and scrub myself down with a damp washcloth. It's not a shower, but it'll do, and it's better than biking for three hours in the sun just to get clean. When dressing again afterwards, I pull on a different shirt, a poser-y thing meant to look like it came from Vienna. The walk back to the site is slightly easier than the walk out -- it's a little brighter now -- and when I get back, I toss our bath stuff into the pile devoted to it.

Shinji's now sitting up in his blankets, hair a mess, frowning out over the ridge, where a faint humid haze obscures the city in the early light. He eyes me briefly on my return, then pauses, obviously noting that my A10 connectors clips are missing. When, after a moment, his eyes slide back to my own, they're wide, a little uncertain. He doesn't know if he should make anything of it.

I take the choice from him by turning my back on him as I rummage through our food for breakfast. He's still watching me, though; I can feel his eyes on me, probably wondering how he possibly made me change my mind about something. And my head still feels naked.

Eventually, however, he climbs to his feet and claims the wet cleaning stuff I just used, then disappears into the trees. I start to shake my head before catching myself; at least now he's looking at my hair, not at my scar. Though... really I don't think I've caught him staring at that since I came here yesterday.

When he gets back, I nod in greeting. "I was thinking. We could probably cut down a couple of these trees here, for some more room and a better view of the city."

Shinji frowns cautiously at me as he puts away the bath stuff and grabs his cap instead. "Why?"

I blink, then shrug. "I already said what it was for. If we're going to be here for a while, we should have room, don't you think?"

He makes a face at this as he drops to the ground beside me. "I don't know. Actually... I was thinking about maybe making a... a permanent residence. Somewhere."

"What? Why?" Twisting, I punch his knee to let him know what a good idea this is. "The city is full of houses, moron."

"Yeah, but they're other people's houses," he clarifies, scowling sideways at me. "And the infrastructure barely works anymore, anyway. When I was showering yesterday the water almost gave out on me."

I nod; I've experienced the same thing, and in any case there is a limit to how much we'll get out of the water supply with no electricity anywhere. Simple pressure has been sustaining us for now. "Well, even so, how well do you really think you could build a house? Seriously, we're two kids with no construction training or experience; maybe we could build something, and maybe not, but at least somebody else's house isn't likely to collapse around us while we sleep." Us. We. I keep including myself in this, don't I? Why not, though? I tried going it alone, and I saw how well that worked out.

"Calm down, Asuka," he murmurs, idly wiping his sunglasses clean on the hem of his shirt. "I'm not saying we have to do this today. I was just throwing it out there as a possible goal in the future. So let's figure out what we want before we start hacking trees down."

I find myself frowning at him and try to stop, but it's hard. What the hell happened to him? He's actually... unruffled. And worse, I find that his measured response actually did what he wanted it to: I've calmed down. But not because I'm placated; it's because I'm unbalanced, like he just gave me a shove and I'm still flailing arms around, trying not to fall.

I don't like this. Not at all. Somehow control is shifting from me to him, and how the hell can I stop it if I don't know why it's happening? The worst part is that the idiot probably has no idea what he's doing to me. If I didn't need him, I wouldn't put up with this.

Tonight, then. I play the nuclear card tonight. First, though, he has to feel secure, has to feel like I'm under control and like we're not going to delve into our pasts anymore. "Fine," I sigh. "Let's just... whatever."

He grunts without looking at me, instead munching on a handful of dry cereal. After a moment I resume my own meal of canned nectarine segments.

Once we're done eating, I spare him a diffident sideways glance, then shake the empty can I'm still holding. "I thought we should get more stuff like this," I note quietly, not quite meeting his gaze. "Maybe a week's worth of food and water would be good. What do you think?"

Behind the sunglasses, Shinji's eyes widen in surprise at being consulted, let alone so meekly, and with effort I manage not to smirk at the ground. Eventually, though, he nods thoughtfully. "Yeah. That's a good idea, actually. Lets us worry about other stuff for a change."

Of course it's a good idea. I came up with it. "Also," I add, as though the thought just came to me, "some watertight containers wouldn't kill us either, for clothes and stuff."

"True," he acknowledges. "Then we could... loot ahead, so to speak."

I smile at this description. And because the plan is working; he's getting more at ease. "Which do you want to get today, then? The food or the containers? I can get whichever one you don't."

He spares me a sidelong glance rendered unreadable by the shades. "We can probably find them both in the same store."

Oh? "True. Let me know when you want to go."

"I'm ready now," he shrugs, tucking away the cereal box and standing.

With no reason to argue I nod, brushing off my jeans as I rise as well. "Then let's go, jerkface."

I can hear his low chuckle from behind me as we head out towards the road, and find myself smiling. I have to be sort of a bitch to him, at least, or else he'll get suspicious.

As we find our bikes and start coasting down the long hill, I feel almost... pleased. It's kind of nice, actually, to do this ride in the daylight. And not alone. The water glittering off below us is actually kind of pretty, even with the stupid color and Rei's stupid half-head in the middle.

We don't speak much on the way down. Every now and then I veer my bike towards Shinji's, though, trying to freak him out, but all it does is make him laugh.

Before long we're rolling into the parking lot of the closest grocery store to the campsite. The doors have long since been smashed -- I think by him -- so the faint odor of rotten organics wrinkles my nose from fifty paces away. This isn't going to be fun.

In the parking spaces closest to the doors, Shinji brakes to a lazy halt and flips his kickstand down. I do the same a short distance away, frowning at the store entrance as I slip to the pavement.

Almost instantly, as he's tugging his sunglasses off, he throws me a sideways half-grin. "Remember where we parked."

I lift a pained and skeptical eyebrow at this. Really? So lame. Though it helps my plan, that he's making jokes.

Shortly the smile fades from his face, to be replaced by apparent indifference. With a shrug he continues on into the store, flashlight at the ready, shirt quickly pulled over his mouth and nose against the nauseating stench of rot.

I follow a step behind, slowing almost to a stop as we approach. It's going to be awful in there, but my shirt's not long enough to serve as a filter without baring a section of my stomach, and I don't want him to see the scars there yet. I... didn't think of this beforehand; it's not something I had to worry about when I was alone.

A few steps into the store, he pauses, then turns back at me, eyebrows drawn in concern. "Aren't you going to cover your mouth or anything?" His words are only slightly muffled by his own shirt.

"For this? Are you kidding? I have a cast-iron stomach." Eyeing him in narrow scorn, I stride past him into the store, flicking on my own flashlight in the process.

Gah. That's... gah. I shouldn't have opened my mouth in here. I feel strongly compelled to spit out the taste of death, but... not with him watching.

"I'll find the food," he volunteers after a moment, when I don't say anything, "if you want to get the containers and some water."

Nodding, I angle towards the back corner of the store; hopefully the extra distance from produce and such will thin out the smell somewhat. Although, as I quickly find out, this turns out not to be the case. God damn it.

Thus, holding my breath and moving as fast as I can, I grab an armful of plastic containers that'll probably hold a few garments each, as well as a handful of sealing bags I imagine will come in handy at some point. Then, while Shinji's light is still wandering around in the canned goods, I hurry back outside, grabbing some water bottles from an endcap en route.

Once on the safety of the sidewalk, I slump against the side of the building and squeeze my eyes shut. I know it still smells terrible out here, but compared to inside it's like roses and rainbows. I... think I'm going to be sick.

Soon, however, footsteps on broken glass jerk me back upright. Shinji emerges a few seconds later, grimacing as he elbows his shirt back down into place. "That's... pretty rank," he admits, muttering, before his gaze finds me. "You okay? You look pale."

"I'm fine." If I'd just told him about the scars before, this wouldn't have been a problem. Sometimes I just want to smack myself. But on the other hand, I'm still not going to show him. Not yet. Maybe not ever. We'll see.

"Fine. Let's go back." Shaking his head and coughing, he makes for the bikes.

I follow, trying to ignore the vague lightness in my head. "Hey," I call. "Before we go, we should figure something out for water."

He pauses, awkwardly repositioning the supplies in his arms to unzip the backpack sitting next to his bike. "What about water? You want to get more? I'd rather get it from a different store, though."

"No, it's... well, that wouldn't hurt," I shrug. "That's not what I meant, though. We need to get a way to make our own water."

"Make it?" Startled blue eyes glance up at me for a moment before he resumes stuffing things into the backpack. "I didn't think you could make water."

I roll my eyes at this, jamming the damn plastic stuff I picked up into my own backpack. "You don't, moron, unless you mean by burning hydrogen. Didn't you ever pay attention in school? No, since we can't live on bottled water forever, I was thinking of making our own desalination setup. Except this would remove LCL too, not just salt."

Shinji pauses again, then slowly straightens and frowns at me. A breeze ruffles his short hair while the silence stretches. "Aren't those expensive? I remember the teacher mentioning that at one point. Water was a big issue after Second Impact."

I blink at this, vaguely surprised he would remember such a thing, then shrug it off and climb onto my bike. "Yeah. But we don't need to produce it for the whole city. We just need to boil -- can we start moving now? I'm dying here -- just need to boil and condense enough for the two of us." As we take off biking, the breeze dispels the smell of corruption and I can't help but smile.

"Could we even do that?" wonders Shinji loudly as we angle across a graffiti-strewn intersection. "How hard would it be?"

"My degree is in physics, smartass. Of course I could do it." I pause, thinking. "The biggest pain would be getting rid of the crud left over after boiling each batch. And finding all the fuel to burn, I suppose. I don't know." Now that I talk about it, it seems like a lot of work. I was envisioning something like a school lab setup, if maybe a little larger, but now I think it'll take a little more planning. Probably not something we can do today.

"Is it something we can do today?"

I snort, then shake my head at Shinji's questioning glance. "Probably not. We'll think on it, though."

"Like a house," he adds after a moment.

I nod. Like a house.

The ride back up the hill elapses in a thoughtful silence. Or at least it's thoughtful on my part. What would I even need to get something like that going? If I can find sufficient liquid propane, or another suitable fuel, I could probably head down to the water and rig up a pump connected to a glorified boiler. Reverse osmosis would be ideal, of course, but that would be harder to set up. I need... I need to think.

When we reach the ridge again, a detail on Shinji's bike finally catches my attention and I nod a question at him. "Hey. Didn't you have a GPS unit on there before?"

He gives me an odd look, and belatedly I realize this is almost taboo; I only noticed the thing there in the first place when he and I randomly met at the shoe store. Eventually, though, he just nods. "It ran out of battery power about a week ago," he explains. "Or else it just got tired of the LCL rain." Sunlight makes him squint as he speaks; he forgot to put his sunglasses back on, after the store.

I nod in return, and together we leave the bikes totally unattended on a major highway. It still seems weird not to lock stuff up, but if there were enough people around to make theft worthwhile, we wouldn't have to be doing half this stuff in the first place.

It doesn't take long to fit our new supplies into the old ones, and when it's all done I estimate we have five or maybe six days' worth of stuff up here. It's not as much as I wanted, but it'll do.

Another thing we have in abundance is trash. "Hey, idiot."

"Yeah?" He's stretching idly a short distance away, arms raised skyward.

"What have you been doing with all your garbage and empty bottles and stuff?"

He shrugs, then claims a seat on the ground while he roots through the food pile. "Sometimes I just throw it over the ridge. Sometimes I let it pile up, then take it with me to the city and drop it in someone's bin. Why?"

"We should get a routine going for it," I decide. "We can't just throw crap around and let it sit there." No, wait; I'm trying to be more docile. "Or... did you have another plan? If so, I'm willing to hear it."

He jerks in surprise at my mild tone, then eyes me sharply for a moment. "Umm... no, I... I didn't really have a plan." He pauses, chewing a lip, frowning fiercely. "If you don't mind my saying so, Asuka, I... never really figured you were the environmental type."

"I don't really care one way or the other," I shrug. "But it rains blood now, Shinji; it's possible the ecosystem is a lost cause. On the other hand, though, I don't exactly want to live swimming in my own waste either. And with more people likely showing up it's bound to get even worse if we don't figure something out now."

"People are..." His frown deepens almost into a scowl before clearing, and after a moment he simply shakes his head. Blue eyes slide absently to regard the city below. "Maybe. Yeah, I guess that's true. What did you have in mind?"

I hesitate a moment, just long enough to make myself seem indecisive. "Well... I don't know. We could just take occasional trips down to the city and drop all our trash off in existing bins, like you used to do. That was a good idea."

He twists slightly towards me, then actually smiles. "Thanks. Actually, I could do that now, if you want. Or, after eating." As though this reminds him he was looking for food, he resumes pawing through our food pile, shortly coming up with some vegetable drink and a little bag of chips.

I nod, quickly finding some nuts and dried fruit for myself. I'd fucking kill for a steak right about now, though.

"We're almost out of firewood," notes Shinji as we eat. "You want to chop more? Otherwise I can, and you can be on trash duty."

There he is, taking control again. I try to keep my discomfiture to myself as I nod again. "I can do the wood." Axes are cool anyway.

He says nothing, instead simply eating. I do likewise.

Shortly he rises and starts collecting discarded wrappers and empty bottles into a backpack, while I wander over to check out the axe. It's simple enough, but apparently sharp. It'll be interesting to use a real one.

"I'll be back in a few hours," offers Shinji by way of farewell, hovering at the edge of the campsite.

"Have fun." Hefting the axe, I stride into the woods, in the direction where he once mentioned he'd downed a dead tree.

Soon I find it, in a clearing maybe sixty meters from where we're now living. It's actually pretty here, I reflect; with trees all around and layers of multi-colored moss decorating the edge of rocks poking up through the soil, it's like something from a postcard. I've never really cared too much for natural beauty, but with the world so beaten and ugly now, I guess I have to enjoy what I can.

I've never chopped wood before either, but it doesn't seem too hard: swing the axe until the pieces come apart. A few hours later I start carrying armfuls back to the depleted pile Shinji once made. By the time I'm done moving it, however, he still isn't back, so, bored, I start making a fire myself.

It feels weird to rip up one of the books I helped to find, or which I just grabbed at random from the library, but it's not like we're using them for anything. When Shinji finally shuffles into the campsite, I have a crackling blaze prepared.

"Oh," he smiles; warm hues paint his face in the dusky twilight. "Good. I was afraid I'd have to make one."

"I'm resourceful," I point out. And I started a lot more than simple fires, earlier in the city.

He regards me briefly but settles down on the other side of the fire, tiredly pulling his baseball cap off. "How are your hands? Mine hurt, afterwards."

I shrug. "My hands are fine." It's my arms that hurt, and my back. I must have been chopping wrong, or maybe he's just stronger than I am. Studying him quickly out of the corners of my eyes, I try not to grunt. He probably doesn't even weigh all that much more than I do, but I suppose there's a portion of my body mass that has little purpose but to make me look hot, whereas slightly more of his can be used for physical labor.

Eventually I shake my head slightly. "If you want to cook something, I'll clean." Cleaning's easier than cooking, and the new Shinji isn't likely to do both for me.

He smiles again. "Sure. Thanks." I wave aside his silly gratitude, and without speaking further he chooses a package of instant something from the pile and starts cooking.

This is... weird. I feel somehow domestic. I need him, though; I can't afford to be selfish and have him toss me out again. If only I actually liked him, too.

He's chosen to cook instant noodles of some sort, with seasoning and sauce that don't smell much like the actual meal they're intended to represent, but it's food. We eat in silence. Afterwards, I clean up, also in silence, but at least the cleanup isn't hard; some hot water, and a couple of minutes with a sponge, and I'm done.

It's almost dark when I finish, with a purplish glow all that's left to remind us of the sunset. "It's pretty tonight," I observe, keeping my voice quiet.

"Yeah." He pauses, sitting with arms crossed over his knees, staring up at an angle. "I really like the evenings, now."

I can't say I agree, but I keep my mouth shut. It's hard to enjoy the sight too much when there's a giant band of red souls orbiting the planet in plain view. It stays in the same place along the celestial equator, though, like a genuine planetary ring, rather than changing apparent places in the sky. The moon follows it, now. Idly I find myself wondering if it has mass; it probably does, if it's staying in a stable orbit like that. If so, having it up there probably slowed down the world's angular momentum a little bit. I bet the days are slightly longer now.

Sighing, I tear my eyes from the red streak and glance over at Shinji again, but he's just sitting there, apparently content to stargaze. He looks almost happy.

I guess this is as good a time as any to go nuclear. "So," I murmur, inspecting my fingernails. "Do you always think about me when you jerk off, or just most of the time?"

The stammering shock I expected to hear from him is strangely absent; a quick check shows me that he's still just staring at the sky, though now he's frowning. I try to keep a frown from my own face as the silence stretches.

Eventually clothes rustle as he shifts. "What do you mean?" His voice is quiet, even guarded. As well it should be.

"The hospital, Shinji. I know what you did. Remember?" We talked about this in Instrumentality... but maybe he figured I was already dead, and that he was just dreaming me.

He shrugs mildly. "Honestly? Probably half the time." Despite his flippant words, he's gotten even quieter, speaking barely above a whisper.

I can no longer keep the puzzlement from my own face. "Oh? Who was it the rest of the time?"

"You name her, I've thought of her," he sighs, leaning back on his hands now. "Rei, Misato. Hikari, sometimes. Girls in our class whose names I don't remember anymore. Celebrities." He shrugs.

Quickly I manage to sneak a narrow glance across the fire, and discover that his arms are actually shaking, if only slightly. So he is uncomfortable, only pretending otherwise. Good. He's putting up far too convincing of an illusion, though. I was hoping for mute shock, or maybe breathless apologies or even yelling and raging, but this... this isn't what I expected.

Well, shit. Maybe a little more prodding will push him off-balance. "Yeah? So the hospital thing, does that turn you on? IV feeds keeping me sedated? Is that your thing?" Strangely I feel a perverse joy at topping his fantasy list at fifty-ish percent; it means I beat Rei.

"Not usually," he admits, displaying far less shame than he should. "Usually it was other stuff."

"Like what?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Try me." My words come out clipped. Bitten.

He sighs again. Between us, logs shift in the fire, sending a miniature blizzard of sparks skyward. "Normally it used to... depend on my mood. Towards you. Like, if we were getting along, then in my head we were... happy. You know... affectionate and everything. But if we'd been fighting, then I would dream about trying to... to... hurt you. Or smother you, sometimes, like with a pillow while we were doing it. Stuff like that."

I swallow, uncertain how to react to this uninflected revelation. On the one hand... yeah, I get it; he had rape fantasies about me. Rape-murder, apparently. What a fucking creep. What a worthless human being. On the other hand, though... I... didn't realize I messed him up that much. That he took me that seriously. And somehow despite all of that he still dreamed about us being tender -- loving, unless I miss my guess -- and still stuck around to help me around after Third Impact.

I don't get him. This isn't good.

Before I can frame another response, he speaks into the silence. "What about you, then?"

I blink. "What?"

He tilts his head slightly in my direction. "What do you think about when you do it?"

Heat blossoms somewhere inside. "Stop dreaming. Girls don't have to do that stuff."

"Bullshit." I can hear the smile in his voice; he's laughing at me. "I know Misato used to, even when she had Kaji."

At the latter name, ice slashes through the heat inside me, and I can't help but flinch. "Shinji, you shouldn't have done it. It was pretty fucking creepy, you know."

"You think I don't know that?" His voice is tight. "Look, it was a shitty thing to do, and I feel terrible and I'm sorry. While you were busy getting medicated out of your mind, I was paralyzed with guilt until just before Instrumentality started because of what I did. So it's not like I don't know."

He's speaking loudly now, almost yelling, and part of me relaxes somewhat; this is better. But the rest of me bristles. "Well, just consider this my way of throwing it out there, Shinji. What am I supposed to do? Ignore it? It's a pretty fucking big elephant in the corner, if you ask me!"

"You know what? I don't even care! I'm trying to apologize, and if you're not going to accept it, there's not a whole lot I can do." Sighing, he leans forward again, rubbing his face. "Anyway, it's not like what you did was all that different."

"What?" I have to pause at this, but even by his standards it doesn't make any sense. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Earlier," he states tiredly. "Recently. When you were sleeping with me."

"Oh, please." I surprise myself by laughing. "Don't even try to compare that to what you did, Shinji. You may as well have raped me."

"But I didn't," he counters evenly. "And what you did was exactly the same: you used me, stole something from me to satisfy some need you had, and then you walked away afterwards. At least what I did to you didn't toy with your emotions."

"Whatever. You enjoyed what I did."

When he doesn't answer right away, I glance over, then blink. He's glaring at nothing, slowly crumpling his hat into a ball and unfolding it again. Idly I wonder if it's my neck he wishes his hands were around. In any case, though, he looks... hurt. And angry. Very angry.

I guess... maybe I shouldn't have said that. And, in a way, he may have a point. "Shinji."

"What now?"

I swallow an angry response, instead hugging knees to my chest. "I'll... let it go if you will."

Silence answers me, and I sigh. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, not with him snapping back at me, putting me on the defensive. But he's right. I knew it was wrong the first time I crept into his blankets to sleep with him. It was a silly, stupid thing to do, in retrospect, but I was so lonely, so desperate for human contact, and I needed him even if I was still too angry to say so. I wonder if he'd even believe me, now, if I told him that. Maybe that was even how he felt about me, too; in that case his masturbation just would have been... a surrogate for the tenderness he actually came to me looking for. I don't know.

"Fine," he mutters, shaking his head. "That's... Asuka, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." I'm not even sure what he's apologizing for. "It's... getting late, isn't it?" The words slip out before I'm even aware I'm saying them; if anything, it's even earlier than we went to bed last night.

Shinji glances skyward and nods. "Yeah. Yeah, we, um... It's been a long day."

"Yeah." My arms still hurt, really, and I suspect they'll only be more sore tomorrow, and I can only imagine how he feels after riding up the hill twice in one day. Maybe some sleep isn't a bad idea.

Shortly he clambers to his feet and seeks his blankets a short distance away. After a moment I make a face then do the same, wriggling into my sleeping bag after kicking off my shoes and socks. Something's bothering me, though; something's not right.

It's only after a half-hour lying in the darkness that it hits me. Shinji. Even though he was clearly in the wrong, he stood up to me. Successfully. And made me realize I was wrong too.

He's not a wimp anymore.