December 13, 2024 - Anzen Hospice, Tokyo-3, Japan

Anzen Hospice was one of the better health-care facilities in Japan, much less Tokyo-3. Expenses for it could be very difficult to a man raising a daughter and caring for a disabled wife, but Nerv had footed the whole of the expenses. Director Ikari had said it was a simple investment: Dr. Soryu was one of their most able and prolific researchers, a name in Nerv from the very beginning. Her husband was also something worth keeping around, considering without him, the rapid resolution of the Gold Army Incident would have been impossible. That was more for the balance sheets, though.

In truth, it was seeing friends in pain, and it was the least he could do to help.

For the most part, Kyoko made improvements. They were simple improvements, minor ones that seemed to emphasize how much was lost more than her earlier silence. It was progress, though, and that was not to be ignored.

The two biggest victories, in Martin's opinion, was her mobility and her vocabulary. It was hard to tell how cognitive Kyoko was of her surroundings most of the time, as she seemed lost in whatever otherworld she had slipped to when left to herself. When she saw someone she knew, though, she was quick to focus and lock on them. She could talk, a little bit, and was becoming more eager for company.

This combined with her ability to walk again, though slowly and with assistance. It was hard to tell if it was a balance issue or not, because she seemed to have no trouble with the dexterous movements required from her fingers. Whenever early attempts were made to compel her to walk, she stagged and lilted like a drunken person. Dr. Hosokawa figured this indicated it was most likely a psychosomatic condition, but encouraged continued rehabilitation treating it as a physical or neurological injury in recovery. On a slowly increasing regimen, Kyoto had managed to get her legs back under her, and had recently graduated from a walker to careful, plodding steps, with assistance close by. The speed with which she regained her movement further encouraged the psychosomatic theory.

There were still problems in recovery, and that was because, when one got down to it, no one knew what Kyoko was afflicted with. Physically, there seemed to be nothing wrong with her. There were no lesions on her brain, which would indicate the kind of cognitive deterioration she had suffered. Her nerves seemed responsive and fine. Aside from the blow she had received during the incident, and as terrifying as that had been, she seemed no worse for the wear.

Still, she made recovery. The Hospice was a good fit for her, and Martin had been able to return to work again, though his time was largely split between instructing Security personnel and caring for his wife, with very occasional father-daughter time thrown in. Sometimes, he even slept, time permitting.

He knew that Asuka was getting the raw end of the deal, but Kyoko's gradual improvements helped to alleviate that, a bit. Asuka was able to spend more time with her father and mother, and seemed to perk up in taking a role that helped her mother. It was progress on her part, too, for her grade's in school had dropped significantly. She had become quiet, sullen, and unresponsive to the adults around her, and had gotten into two fights. Her behavior improved as she spent time with her mother, and her mother was more happy and more responsive. Slow progress…but progress.

So the visits became a customary thing, today being one of many. Today was a special day, though. Asuka had brought an early Christmas gift for her mother.

"Asuka!" Kyoko chirped, making her slow and steady way down the hall.

"Hi, mommy," Asuka said quietly, giving one of her rare smiles.

"Asuka," Kyoko repeated, stopping in front of her child. "So pretty," she said, "So pretty." She enunciated each word very carefully,

"I brought Letta for you," Asuka said, offering up a doll. It was a doll that her mother had made for her after the old rag-doll had finally worn out. It showed a marked improvement in craftsmanship, and was clearly meant to emulate her daughter, with red chord for hair. Kyoko took it in wonder, looking at it. She seemed to go to a distant place, looking up and over the head of the doll and her daughter; the stuffed toy dropped to her side as she seemed to half-remember something. Presently, her eyes returned to her daughter, and she smiled again.

"So pretty," she said happily. She held out her free hand unsteadily, and Asuka accepted it. It was warm, and familiar. The skin was softer than it used to be, but it was still her mother's hand.

"Pudding?" Kyoko queried, tugging gently. "Today…pudding?"

"Okay, mommy," Asuka said, "Let's go eat some pudding."

"Window," Kyoko said seriously. Martin watched as his daughter gently led her mother back towards the cafeteria, feeling an ache and a warmth warring in his heart. Asuka had grown up very much in these past few months, and he was pleased how she had taken to her mother once the initial shock and sadness had warn off. It had been painful, initially, for Asuka to come to terms with her mother's new state, but there was no hiding how much Kyoko still loved her daughter. It hadn't been hard for them to reconnect.

"I'm pleased her daughter is having such an affect on her," Dr. Hokosawa said, breaking Martin from his brooding. She was a petite women with gray hair and crow's feet, but aside from that, looked remarkably young. "Sometimes, family members can be outright ignored in cases of dementia. Other times, they can just rile up the patient. Make them agitated."

"But you said this wasn't dementia," Martin reminded her, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"I stand by that, but I've been using it as a template for treating Dr. Soryu," she explained. "I hate to say I don't know what to do, but in this case, I really don't. It's kind of a dartboard with her. Throw everything at her and see what works."

"It concerns me that you can't pin down the cause or the reason," Martin said wearily.

"It concerns me as well. I think we can both agree what the root cause was," Dr. Hokosawa said quietly. Martin nodded. If he could go back and put his foot down on that ugly day, he would have. Would have, should have, could have never solved anything, however, so he didn't dwell on it. There was no doubt in his mind that Eva-02 had done this to Kyoko.

Dr. Hokosawa suspected it, as well, but it was privileged information. Though the Evangelions were becoming public knowledge (out of the necessity to demonstrate active research conducted against the Other for morale purposes), the specifics of the 'devices' was still classified. Dr. Hokosawa had been a full-time physician under Nerv, and had been given space at the Hospice to assist in Kyoko's rehabilitation. There was no fear in discussing this.

"That thing just about killed her," he said, "And I can't help…thinking it took something out of her." He looked at the tiny woman, his face haggard. "What if…what if the parts of her that are…missing…what if they're in that thing? What if it just sucked it out of her?" Dr. Hokosawa listened dutifully, part of her job including counseling the family as well. It was something she had considered, but hesitated to bring to Martin's attention. She was uncertain how he would have taken the theory. As he had been the one to bring it up, however…

"Do you have reservations, then? About them trying to activate the Eva?" she asked, quietly.

Martin considered it, and in the end, it didn't matter if he did or not. It was easy to forget that a war for survival, a war against extinction, was being conducted in the lonely places of the world. The Evangelions might be the silver bullet to end that conflict.

"Casualty of war, Doctor," he mumbled, his voice distant. "It's…just a casualty of war."


They sat by Kyoko's favorite window, where she could see the hospice's garden and feel the sunlight. Today it was raining, but that mattered very little to Kyoko. It was all about the garden and butterscotch pudding.

"Napkin," she quietly, handing one to Asuka. The girl took it daintily, and laid it on her lap. They ate their pudding, and Asuka told her about Shinji, and Rei, and Yui, and Naoko, and everyone else. Kyoko listened attentively. About half of everything Asuka said went through, and the other half just flew over her head. For the most part, though, it wasn't about the words. It was just the sound of Asuka talking. The voice was something that connected in Kyoko's brain like music, and she was positively enraptured whenever her daughter said anything. She could be spouting gibberish, and it would still be gospel to her mother.

Presently, after they started their third bowl each, Asuka propped Letta on the table. "I want you to keep Letta here, so you can get better," Asuka explained.

"Pretty," Kyoko said again, glancing at the doll.

"You made her for me. Remember, mommy? You made Letta," Asuka reminded. Kyoko seemed to get shy at that suggestion, and smiled. She shook her head bashfully, denying it. Asuka made a serious expression. "It's true," she insisted. "You made her. You were very good at that. You could make wonderful things. When you were a scientist, you made great things…you made an Eva. Remember the Eva?"

Kyoko cocked her head, tilting it so far over that it would have fallen off if not attached. She fiddled with her pudding, and glanced at the doll.

"Eva," she mumbled, letting go of her spoon and tentatively nudged Letta. "Something…hmmm." Her hand gently retreated, and Asuka said nothing. She had been told that, when her mother acted this way, to let her sort it out instead of speaking to her. It was excruciating at times, but Asuka had learned to be patient, and watched her mother's gears working. Presently, a grin split Kyoko's face.

"Asuka," she finally said, pointing at the doll. She picked it up off the table, and placed it in her lap.

"No," Asuka said patiently, "That's Letta. I'm Asuka." Kyoko shook her head, furrowing her eyebrows. She was trying to explain something, but couldn't form the sentence. She gave up, and simply smiled and held up Letta again.

"Asuka," Kyoko insisted, nuzzling the doll. One of her hands gently crossed the table, stroking Asuka's hand affectionately. She looked back at her daughter, smiling. Asuka then understood what her mother was trying to say.

"Yeah, that's me," Asuka replied, returning the smile. Kyoko nodded, happy her daughter had figured it out. Asuka was happy, too.

Butterscotch pudding and gardens could have that affect.