Covenant Red
Chapter 11: Penitent
Disclaimer: I do not own Evangelion.
/\/\/\/\
He woke. Dreams dissolved. Reality coalesced and Kensuke struggled out of bed.
Five minutes remained before his alarm. He swore at it.
He brushed his teeth and showered. He ran a hand through his sandy hair and deemed it passable in the foggy mirror over the sink. He donned a wrinkled but clean school uniform. He grabbed the nearest clip-on tie.
He microwaved the last frozen waffle. He ate without tasting.
He brushed his teeth again. He idly stared at the frayed bristles bending over the edges.
He slipped on his school satchel and left the apartment. He rode the elevator to ground level. Toji was there first waiting, he was always there first waiting. They departed together.
The city was coordinated traffic jams. He heard a siren somewhere but did not see it.
He passed a small electronics store, its twin front windows dominated by sales on digital cameras and related accessories. He lingered a step and traffic split around him.
He could buy one now. He could have one now. There was no one to tell him no.
Toji looked back. Toji looked inquisitive.
He jogged back beside him. Back into place. Back where he belonged now. Back in the city he saw through perfect blood-speckled eyes.
The traffic resumed again as one.
/\/\/\/\
"Earth to Aida. Report in, Aida."
Kensuke glanced at the desk beside his. Toji eyed him, deciding whether to be amused or worried.
"Aida here," he replied. "All systems green."
"Yeah, I'm going to call you on that one. You've been out of it for days. What's up?"
His left shoulder issued a noncommittal shrug. "Just tired."
Kensuke steered the pre-homeroom conversation away from himself, casually dropping information about a new update for the car basketball video game they both enjoyed. Toji was immediately refocused onto scheduling an online meeting over the weekend. Kensuke tried to relax.
A week passed since his run-in with Kirishima at the laundromat. He hadn't revealed what he learned to Toji and still debated if he should. He only saw it creating more problems, for everyone involved. He felt alone in his concerns over WILLE; the open access to his apartment and person, the surveillance, the sterilization, and the life-or-death battles against monsters they may have had a hand in creating. Mana only served to reinforce his worries, and again highlight his differences with Asuka and Toji.
Maybe he should have jumped at the opportunity to ally with Kirishima and the UN. At least she was willing to be honest with him. Then again, she also readily admitted her superiors were keeping secrets from her, as well. Was that simply part of their field of work? It wasn't good for morale when soldiers questioned what they were fighting for.
A shadow fell over his desk.
He was lax. His usual peripheral study of Soryu was unshakeable, especially at school where there was nothing else worth paying attention to. But she somehow managed to slip through his visual net and stood before him. Her expected expression of dull irritation made him feel like he had violated her personal space, even though she approached him.
He was trying to remember how language worked when she tossed a box on his desk.
"Here," she said.
A gift? Kensuke picked it up with shocked reverence. He examined it.
"You bought him a camera?" Toji asked, looking on.
"Please. I bummed it off Hikari's older sister. I'm not wasting money on either of you."
"You stealing from acquaintances seems more realistic. But the question remains: why?"
"Because I'm tired of Hikari complaining about dwindling club turnout. So, I signed the Third up for Photo club. That should keep her quiet for a while."
Toji turned to him. "You never mentioned you liked photography, man. Cool."
Asuka rolled her eyes. "I managed to remember that through all the garbage he spouts at me. And if I have to suffer through Art, he can suffer through Photo."
Kensuke placed the box back on his desk. "You had no right to do that."
"Don't be melodramatic. Your social calendar isn't busting at the seams and I'm sure WILLE can spare you for—"
"I said you had no right to do that!" he screamed.
Their classmates turned to them. Toji was agape. Asuka was bemused.
"Rein in that hissy fit, missy," she said. "Stop pretending you know what's best for yourself and… Hey, don't run away when I'm talking to you—"
He left the classroom. He left the school. He didn't stop until he collapsed on the floor mat inside his apartment. He panted, hunched against the door. He couldn't outrun his head. Memories remained stubbornly in place.
/\/\/\/\
He looked for a distraction. His current video game of choice was the latest in a long running FPS series, set in a near future world of biomechanical advancements and shadowy conspiracies. He was a super soldier tasked with overthrowing a powerful authoritarian regime with mysterious ties to his own past. Typical fodder for a run-and-gun experience, but the production values and illusion of player choice helped ease the franchise fatigue.
He arrived at the unwanted but requisite forced stealth segment, alleviated by a stroke of fan service genius, as the player snuck through the ventilation system of the enemy's female barracks. The tension was offset by a number of risqué views from the vents along with the discovery of a camera just before the mission began.
Kensuke crept through, not stopping to peek in at the locker room or occupied bathroom stall. He got to a section of vent running beneath a line of at attention female officers in skirts before turning the game off. He rubbed his eyes shut and sighed.
He grew up without a mother or any female figure of authority. His father lived at work, so Kensuke's concepts of right and wrong regarding women evolved from his peers and his own private sense of interest. The advent of puberty cleaved the ranks of his childhood friends into those who embraced it, and those who were ashamed of it. The latter redoubled their efforts on academics; the former all but abandoned it.
Kensuke tried for a time to bridge the two groups but with no outside force compelling him to strive for greatness in school he eventually didn't see the point. He was a teenager. He wanted to have fun.
His group hung out under the school's metal bleachers, a hold-over from their youth. In days past it served as mighty castles and secret fortresses. Now they used it as a concealed spot to rate girls and share the rarity of non-parental blocked internet sites. They met even when the bleachers were being employed as bleachers, the noise of oblivious sports crowds drowning out meaningful discussion.
Which was okay. A lot of girls attended games to support their school teams, and the cheerleaders urged them on without regard to how short their skirts really were. Kensuke and his friends watched with impunity from beneath the bleachers, hidden from sight and any social retribution. Being labeled a pervert was public shaming of the highest degree.
They lined up one Saturday during a game, eyeing the cheerleaders cheerleading, when one of his friends absently muttered his wish for a camera.
Kensuke was embarrassed he didn't think of it first. He asked his father if they had one that weekend over a rare shared dinner.
Daigo blinked awake over his canned soup. He smiled and led Kensuke to his room.
"Your mother was a photography minor in university," he explained, rummaging through the depths of the closet. He produced a dusty shoebox and gave it to his son. "She'd love that you took an interest."
Inside was an old camera, barely digital with a user-unfriendly interface. He ran to school on Monday.
Kensuke became de facto leader of the group. They all fell into an unspoken hierarchy based on his newfound ability to distribute covert panty shots from beneath the bleachers.
Even Shutaro, who insisted he buy his pictures to show off how rich his family was. It was a revelation to be paid. Kensuke's income soon grew: word spread, more photos were taken. His group helped form an underground distribution network to most of the males in school. Even a few high schoolers caught wind. Things were good.
"Aida," his homeroom teacher told him one unremarkable Tuesday morning, "go talk to the principal."
He shrugged. Maybe the faculty didn't take his career essay on photography seriously.
He walked the halls under a cloud of whispers and disgusted glances. He paid no heed.
He entered the principal's office. The vice-principal was there, too, along with several other teachers. His father was seated before the desk. It finally struck Kensuke something was amiss.
They told him they knew about the photo ring. They told him it was over. His friends, when confronted, gave him up as the leader. Kensuke absorbed the condemnations numbly; it felt like a bad dream. Reality could never be this terrible.
Kensuke looked at his father. His father did not say a word.
The faculty was not without mercy, they told him. They would consider leniency in his case and forgo expulsion if he divulged his full client list. They wanted to weed out the negative influence in the school but the roots were still buried within the student body.
Kensuke had to bite his lip to keep from swearing at the principal. He was no rat.
"Tell them, Kensuke," his father finally spoke.
He was used to his father sounding tired. He was not used to him sounding defeated. The crushing shame and disgrace in his voice struck Kensuke. He was disappointed in him. For the first time he considered what he had done might be wrong.
He felt lower than a rat. So ratting was no big deal.
They moved. They moved as far as his father's profession allowed. They moved as the distance between them grew ever wider. They lived separate lives together in the smaller apartment with his father's smaller paycheck.
Three months later the Nephilim attacked and changed his life.
/\/\/\/\
His doorbell sounded. Kensuke blinked through the remains of his nap and rose from the couch. It was just after school. The security monitor showed Toji on his doorstep. He was carrying the camera box.
"Yo," he said as Kensuke allowed him inside.
"You can come in but you're leaving with that," Kensuke said, pointing to the camera. "I don't want it."
He walked past him, set the box on his couch, and faced him. "Hear me out."
Toji didn't ignore problems but he refused to be anything other than stubbornly optimistic in the hope they would all work out. Kensuke did admire how he faced adversity, straight ahead with guts. He just didn't like being on the receiving end.
"Look," Toji said. He frowned, choosing his words. "I won't pretend to know what's going on, and I won't pry. But you need to understand the importance of what happened today."
"Yeah, yeah, I blew up without provocation and ditched classes. I'm sorry." Kensuke couldn't defend himself properly without delving into the past and he resigned himself to take a loss here. If he looked like a fool, so be it.
"No. That's no big deal. I mean Soryu going out of her way to actually do something for another human being. Again, whatever the deal with cameras is, I don't know. But don't be so quick to dismiss her. In all my time with her, she never gave me anything. Maybe I'm making too much out of it, but you shouldn't make nothing out of it. Think about it, okay?"
Toji backed away to the door, showing his empty hands. He left.
Kensuke returned to his couch. He sighed.
He opened the box and took the camera out. He knew the brand, more from coincidence than anything else. It was expensive, overpriced, relying on the prestige of an established name as opposed to functionality. The camera itself showed minimal wear. A quick check showed a full charge and an empty memory card.
He wracked his brain to remember when he intimated to Soryu he enjoyed photography. He came up empty. She must have divined it somehow. She was just too smart not to know.
Kensuke raised the camera before him. He switched it on and peered at the display. The world became a shade surreal, awaiting capture as he was shielded and removed from it. The old feeling of security flooded back over him. He was a kid under the bleachers again.
He switched the camera off. The blank display reflected his speckled eyes.
"Damn," he muttered.
/\/\/\/\
It was early evening. Kensuke stood before Asuka's apartment. Now that he was here, he needed to think of what to say. He ran through various scenarios in his head, none of which ended well for him. But he couldn't imagine things getting any worse.
He accepted he blew a major opportunity. He was blindsided by his past and failed to see the camera for what it was: a tentative link to Soryu. She offered a possibly friendly hand and he swatted it away without thinking.
What a dumb move, he reflected. Even if the link was lost forever, he had to try to reestablish it. She deserved better than what he offered today.
He pressed the door buzzer. At length Asuka deigned to answer through the intercom.
"Hissy fit part two?" she asked.
Kensuke forced himself to laugh. "Good one. No, I wanted to talk about this morning. I think I should clarify a few things."
"What's to clarify? You hate acts of charity from your betters."
Somehow, he managed to forget how difficult talking with her was, especially when he was at fault. But at least they were talking.
"That's, uh, part of why I'm here, sure. I mean, I did want to explain some stuff to you. Um, I bet everybody was wondering what happened after I left."
"No. Not really."
He frowned. "Weren't you curious?"
"I forgot all about it until now."
Damn. Kensuke deflated. His hopes of concern or at least idle awareness from Asuka were totally unfounded. If she had blown up at him like that he would have obsessed over it for days. Added to that, no one else in class cared, either?
"Only Hikari seemed interested," she told him.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Skipping school is worth at least a couple detentions."
Thanks, Class Rep.
"Okay, fine. I get it," he said. He sighed and leaned against the door. He realized it was still closed. "Hey, could you open the door? You know, so we can do this face-to-face?"
"No."
"Please?"
"You haven't earned that privilege."
He looked himself over: he did not come bearing a meal this time, or any kind of present that might entice her. He realized she was smarter than he was, so a rhetorical match of wits was over before it began. All he had left to offer was his self-respect.
"Not even when I'm about to completely humiliate myself?"
The intercom cut out. Kensuke waited. The door slid open.
Friendship wasn't quid pro quo. Even if Toji remained tightlipped about WILLE's past and Ikari, it wasn't his place to get angry about it. Kensuke put himself in his shoes: a possibly close friend was locked up in a coma, with no feasible path to freedom or recovery. Who'd want to blab about that? But that didn't change the fact he and Toji were friends.
He put himself in Soryu's shoes. The only person she freely smiled at was buried underground, put to sleep by her own hand. That couldn't feel good. She was alone in a foreign land, secretly fighting monsters that she may never receive accolades for. All that was a recipe for depression but she showed up to work ready and willing to put her life on the line.
Kensuke knew he should try to emulate her resolve despite his misgivings about WILLE. If Soryu was committed, shouldn't he be as well? If he could share or ease her burden, he had to try. That meant taking conscious steps to stabilize and improve their relationship. Even if he couldn't make her happy, he didn't want to see her hurt. He certainly didn't want to be the cause of any pain.
Asuka leaned against the doorframe, dully waiting. Kensuke bowed as far as he could.
"I'm sorry for yelling at you," he said, "and for not accepting the gift. I should have been grateful. It was generous, and thoughtful, and it deserved a generous, thoughtful response. I'm really sorry."
"Is your conscience clear, now?" she asked. "Run home. It's past your bedtime. I accept your humiliation."
"Wait."
He learned about her, often behind her back. He suddenly felt sneaky. Even if she never told him a thing about herself, she deserved to have some context for his actions today. Even if it shamed him all over again. He wanted her to learn about him, on his terms. He took a breath.
"About the camera," Kensuke began, forcing himself to look her in the eye. "It was a while ago, before the Nephilim attacked my home. I—"
She stopped him. "I didn't ask for, and I don't want, your life story. Save it for your therapist. We're not friends, Third."
"We're not?"
"We're comrades-in-arms," Asuka stated. "Don't mistake our interaction for anything else." She turned her back on him. "Now get lost. I shouldn't have to deal with your nonsense off the clock."
The door closed and Kensuke stared at it. He smiled broadly.
Yes! he thought. Comrades! We're already that close!
/\/\/\/\
End of chapter 11
Author notes: I guess this information should have been communicated in a briefer, more direct fashion, but I needed to indulge my melodrama itch. As I imply I haven't been doing that all along.
Next chapter: Knock, knock. Who's there? The climax. Fucking finally, I know.