2. What Doesn't Kill You (can hurt like hell)
What if there were no hypothetical questions?
~
# The former deputy prime minister, Komachi Honda, Minister for Education and Infrastructure, was sworn in at eleven o'clock this morning. She made a moving speech praising the great work and legacy of the late Mr Musuyashi, and declared that in all aspects she would strive to fulfil his vision of a rebuilt, revitalised Japan. A state funeral will be held for the late prime minister and his wife in three days' time. #
Asuka covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh no – Hikari, that's awful, I'm really sorry – how is your dad handling it?... Well, tell him condolences from me, okay? …No, I haven't spoken to Sugi yet ... That's what you heard? Danke Gott, that's such a relief … Yeah, Shinji's right here, he's okay, and Nagisa and Ayanami too." She waved at us, apparently on Hikari's behalf, without taking the phone from her ear.
"Kensuke as well? That's great!" Shinji sagged in relief, his shoulder pressed against mine. "Yes, Misato's fine. Kaworu, Asuka, and Ayanami too. Hey Toji, have you heard from Toriyama? Really? Thank goodness ... Oh no, his uncle?"
# While a formal government response has yet to be drafted, ministers are urging the public to remain calm in this state of emergency. Aid agencies are working around the clock to provide relief, but maintain that essential services and supplies are totally secure, despite acute … labour shortages. # The newsreader winced as he read the callous-sounding phrase; he cleared his throat and hurried on to the next report. # A preliminary timetable for the resumption of non-essential services ... #
"Yes ... Yes ... Ikari, Nagisa and Soryu are here as well." Rei glanced up briefly, as though checking that she spoke the truth, and Asuka had not wandered away from the public library in which we had stationed ourselves. Rei had changed into her school uniform before we left NERV headquarters, and so her appearance rated no more staring than usual. "Understood. We are in the seating area nearest the intersection of Todo and Ichihara streets. Yes, understood." She ended the call.
Asuka had been pacing in front of the chairs where we sat, speaking in German, but her steps came to an abrupt halt. "/He what? Father's gone?/"
I looked up sharply; her back was to me, but her posture was stiff.
"/I'm so sorry, Mother. Is Nina there with you? That's good, you two can—Oh, don't worry about me, I've got my friends and my foster family here, you look after yourselves. No, really./" Shakily, the pacing resumed, but her chin was ducked and a hand hid her face.
"/What about Aunt Ingrid? Do you know—Oh, that's a relief. Can you imagine if both of them... No, I haven't heard about Johannes yet either ... No, I've got no idea.../"
"Yes Aunty, I got hold of Heisuke before, thanks for letting me know – he said that his girlfriend's grandma and grandpa, though..." Shinji trailed off, letting his silence say what he could not.
It had been a little over three hours, as near as I could judge, since Third Impact, and the world was reeling. Although it was difficult to establish how many people had died, and the various news sources I had utilised all had wildly variant estimates, it had become apparent that everyone Asuka and Shinji spoke to had lost at least one person from their circle of relatives and acquaintances.
Patterns were beginning to emerge in the toll of casualties, trends which made sense if the observer was familiar with the object and process of Third Impact. The main differential seemed to be age – a higher proportion of older people than younger people had chosen to seek oblivion in the failed union of consciousnesses, retreating in fear from the insecurity and loneliness of individual existence. It seemed that optimism (or, to put it another way, stubbornness) was overwhelmingly an attribute of youth.
Asuka took the phone away from her ear and stared at it for a long moment.
"Asuka?" I asked, reluctant to intrude but aching with compassion. "/Are you all right?/"
She half-turned to look at me. "/Eavesdropper,/" she accused halfheartedly. "/Mind your business. And don't worry about me./" Rei looked between us, unable to understand our words but perceptive of their tone.
"/I will never not worry about you,/" I said gently, "/especially when you are bereaved./"
She drew a deep breath and sighed it out, surprisingly quiet. "/It's not like he was my real dad…/"
I got to my feet and went to her side, offering my arms; Asuka regarded them a moment, before clapping an open palm with her own. "/Maybe another time. I think … I just have to think for a bit./"
"/May I check in with you again in a little while?/"
"/Oh, if you insist./ Excuse me," she added to the table as a group, and strode away towards the side of the building, where a maple tree shaded a small garden.
# Although as yet the cause of the catastrophe is unknown, authorities are extremely interested in the residue that has been discovered at the scene of many of the disappearances. Samples of this orange, organic liquid are currently being analysed in laboratories to determine its composition and properties. It is hoped that it might provide some clues to the reason for this unimaginable disaster. #
"LCL," said Rei quietly. "The primordial soup of life – the substance of a living being when not held in shape by the AT field."
"So many people chose to obliviate themselves," I murmured. "Afraid of life, of struggle and heartache – afraid to be alone in a world full of strangers..."
"What do the MAGI records say?" Rei asked. "About Third Impact and the battle with the Angels beforehand." Her emphasis on the plural told me that she also had noticed that no-one at NERV had seemed to remember my exposure as their enemy. Rei, of course, had been aware of my constructed nature early on in our acquaintance, being able to recognise another being like herself, but had not immediately perceived that I was, indeed, a true Angel in human form – and our friendship was now strong enough that my secret was safe with her.
The public library whose computer I was using had reopened less than ninety minutes after the release from Third Impact – several of the librarians, after first looking to their own families and friends, were selflessly working to provide community and information services in whatever capacity they might. I had already seen many grateful people receive resources and guidance in their time of need – and also witnessed other members of the public bringing donations of supplies for either general use, or the support of the library staff themselves. It was heartwarming, yet somehow made me feel like crying – a dichotomy I did not understand.
Although my borrowed computer was not as powerful or specialised as my laptop, I was able, using a combination of my SEELE-granted clearance (still active, though who knew what the status of the organisation itself might be) and a certain amount of judicious hacking, to access the MAGI's data recordings from earlier that day. They faithfully detailed Armisael's detection and the sortie against them by Rei and myself in Units 00 and 02; copious information had been taken regarding the status of the Evangelions and their pilots, the events of the battle, and what little had been learned about the sixteenth Angel.
Then, shortly after Shinji's defiant scramble with Unit 01 (disobeying his father's orders in order to rescue me), the stream of data abruptly died to a trickle. Some of this I knew to be the result of my AT field causing a communications blackout – obscuring light, magnetism, sub-atomic particles, and so forth – but other, more resilient feeds also sported unnatural gaps.
The MAGI noted that two Evangelions remained active, and described Rei's rescue by the retrieval team, but had nothing to say on the status of Unit 02's pilot, nor the presence or absence of any AT fields. The audio recordings from the bridge and radio frequencies were dominated by static, obscuring with impenetrable white noise any dialogue that might have been spoken. Of the many readings being taken of the Angel and the effect of its attack on the Evangelions, only two graphs remained: Unit 02's power level (nominal, since the umbilical cable was still connected) and the light energy emitted by Armisael (enough to rival the sunlight reaching the entire Owaku valley).
"There is nothing there to give you away," Rei observed, after we had poured over the data for some time.
"Has it been erased? By whom?" Puzzled and wary, I brought up the access history for the records, to discover that they also had been wiped, starting from the same time. Additionally, the creation of a new history had been disabled – as soon as I logged out, the MAGI would forget that I had ever been there. I could not even discover if mine was the only current connection to the records, or how this change had been affected.
What I could see, however, was that the disable status was on a timer. In less than half an hour, the access history would be reactivated, and anyone still connected or newly connecting from then on would be noted and recorded. I had to work quickly.
"Someone has prepared this so that their investigation would not be noticed," Rei said, and I had every reason to suppose that she was correct.
"Do you suppose they intended for other interested parties to be equally protected?" I wondered aloud. I set up a capture program for the records themselves, and as it downloaded the data to my portable memory drive I went after the administrator's command registry for the access history in an attempt to determine when and whence the wipe had been performed, and from that, the alterations made to the MAGI's data. It was locked.
"They might have surveillance active at the moment, in order to discover who else is interested in the records."
"Rei, you sound like a spy." I smiled at her to show that I meant no insult.
She watched impassively as my repeated attempts to gain access to the command registry failed. I momentarily wished I had the ability, like my sibling Angel Iruel, to physically infiltrate information systems – to search and access directly, intuitively, rather than with the clumsy gloves of a computer hampering my perception.
As I continued to grapple with the unresponsive registry, I conceded that even my own laptop, despite being better equipped and modified for this sort of task, would probably not have significantly greater success than the generic PC I was using. The security around my target was thorough.
Just as I admitted defeat, Shinji shifted in the seat beside me, and there was a tap as he locked his mobile phone. I looked at his face and saw the tiredness there.
"That was everyone in my address book, except for the people Asuka spoke to," he said. "Everyone knew at least one person who died. It might have been a relative, or neighbour, or boss ... but everyone knew somebody. So many people ... so much death..."
I put my arm around his shoulders, and he leaned into me gratefully. His voice was quiet, almost distant, and I received the impression that he was attempting to ration his intake of the catastrophe, and the shock of losing his father – reducing them to manageable portions so as not to be overwhelmed. However, he was not hiding from it or blocking it out – the Shinji I had first met would have been more likely to run away from such a horrible reality.
Now I had a different concern: it was to do with the haunted look in his eyes, and I could guess where his thoughts were headed.
"Shinji, I know it is hard to avoid feeling guilty, but you must remember what was said to us during Third Impact – that it would eventually have occurred, unavoidably, despite all our best efforts. It just happened to be you and I who precipitated it. Please do not feel guilty."
He shook his head. "I can't help it. I just can't avoid thinking, if only I'd done something earlier, if only I'd fought better – maybe I could have stopped it, or changed it so not as many people died..."
Suddenly a hand slammed down on the table in front of him, and he jumped. "Wha—Asuka?"
Our favourite firecracker had returned, rejuvenated, and glared at him. "I never thought I'd be saying this to you of all people, but get over yourself, Shinji. Nagisa may be an irredeemable dummköpf, but for once he's talking sense. It's stupid to blame yourself for something that would have happened anyway. Believe me, you're not that important. So for once in your life, try not to be completely neurotic about it, okay? Else I'll smack some sense into you myself."
"That's no idle threat," I added quietly. I wondered if her impatience with his self-castigation was fuelled by her own grief.
Shinji looked totally stunned. Before he could recover enough to speak, Rei spoke up.
"If you must implicate yourself in the consequences of Instrumentality, you should also consider the possibility that it was due to your influence that such relatively benign results were obtained. Third Impact tested the entire human race – within that test was the possibility for our total annihilation. As the subject of Instrumentality, you gave us the chance to survive, to choose for ourselves whether we wished to live or die. You saved us, Ikari."
"Wondergirl's right," Asuka said, and I noticed that she spoke the nickname with no malice at all.
Shinji had gone red and was looking at his hands. "I – um ... I don't know what to say..."
"Say that we're right, obviously," said Asuka.
I patted his shoulder. "Just take what we said into consideration, won't you, Shinji? We do not like to see you troubled unnecessarily – or at all, for that matter," I added conscientiously, "but when there is no just cause for your anxiety, that is most difficult to watch. Please remember our words; we speak from our hearts."
Asuka appeared uncomfortable at my sincerity, and Rei looked away. Shinji, however, cast me a shy smile. "I believe you. I – I'll try to keep that in mind. Thank you, all. …I guess I was being a bit stupid, wasn't I?"
"Just for a change," Asuka snorted.
Worry returned to his face then, but not for himself. "How are you feeling? You – I couldn't understand what you were saying, but you lost someone, right?"
She pressed her lips together, apparently warring with herself over accepting his sympathy or rationing her own burden; at length she looked away. "I … I'll tell you later. I want to sit with it a bit longer."
He nodded. "I understand. Hey, when we get home, I'll make cocoa, all right?"
A half-smile struggled free. "…Acceptable."
At that moment the public address system rang out.
# Attention passengers of Japan Rail, please note the following services have been resumed: Akihabara, Tarumachi-2, New Shibuya— #
The rest of the announcement was drowned out by the excited babble that broke out among the formerly-stranded passengers. Only a few hours after one of the worst disasters in the country's history, the transport network that was a hallmark of Japanese life had been restored; as symbols of national character and resilience went (not to mention practical utility), it could hardly have been more appropriate. A group of young people spontaneously chanted a patriotic slogan usually reserved for sporting events.
Asuka sniffed. "In Germany the trains probably never stopped for a second," she asserted.
"Oh really?" I said mildly, accepting her challenge. "Let us see—"
As I called up a search engine, Asuka snatched the keyboard away from me. "You don't need to check on that." We both laughed.
"Hey guys!" came a familiar voice, and we looked up to see Misato approaching. Through an expression of obvious fatigue she was nevertheless smiling, and as a pair of young men eyed her appreciatively she flicked her hair over one shoulder playfully.
"Guten tag, Misato!" Asuka sang. "How's everything back at NERV?"
As she reached us, Misato embraced Asuka, evidently still in the throes of delight at her recovery. When she had encountered the four of us as we were leaving NERV earlier, she had taken one look at Asuka and immediately smothered her in a hug. Asuka's embarrassment had warred with contrition for worrying her guardian, and lost – she had returned the embrace just as fiercely.
Now, Misato managed to restrain herself to only a few seconds before releasing Asuka. She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed theatrically.
"Things NERV-wise are about as hectic as you'd expect when half the command chain vanishes overnight in the exact disaster we've been busting our butts to prevent. Sub-Commander Fuyutsuki's taken charge, but he's just about the only one left of his rank or above at any of the NERV branches around the world."
"Mein Gott," Asuka said. "What's going to happen?"
"We're not certain of the details yet, but at this stage, it looks like everyone will try to pick up and keep going. Third Impact may have failed, or at least been only a partial success, but we're not out of danger. There's still one Angel left, after all."
Shinji, Rei and I kept carefully neutral expressions.
"So for you guys, at least, things probably won't change. Shinji and Kaworu," she addressed us specifically, "I've persuaded them to wait until tomorrow for your debrief on the battle, since there's so much going on, but I'd appreciate it if you both made some notes tonight, while it's still fresh in your minds."
"R-right," said Shinji.
"Thank you," I said, and she smiled wearily.
"Don't mention it. Let's get going – I'm in a no-parking zone."
Shinji jogged to her side as she led us from the station. "If you're really busy, you don't need to drive us," he said. "The trains are running again, after all. I don't want to be a bother..."
Asuka and I shared a fondly exasperated look for Shinji's persistently excessive humility.
"It's no trouble," Misato said, her expression a match for ours. "I needed to get out of there for a bit, anyway – I was getting a headache."
"Spending time with teenagers is unlikely to help with that," I pointed out, making her laugh.
"Can't argue with that." Misato flashed me a smile. "It's nice to have the gang back, though. My place is way too big for just one person – I really don't know how I put up with it before I had these two for roommates. They really make that house a home, you know?"
"Yes, I think I see."
The drive to Misato's apartment was hampered by heavy traffic, as people rushed to respond to the disaster by visiting others or offering help or resources. For once Misato drove considerately – possibly the most dramatic change yet! – and on arrival Shinji gladly cooked dinner for us all.
I persuaded Rei to remain for the meal, and whereas previously Asuka had been inclined to make pointed remarks about Rei's hosts having to cater for her vegetarian tastes, today she instead nagged Shinji to not neglect his guests' preferences.
When I managed to speak with her privately, I asked her about her apparent change of heart.
"What are you talking about?" she huffed, predictably. Denial was evidently still her first line of defence.
I stepped around to lean against the wall on her other side; we stood in the hallway off the kitchen, just far enough to muffle conversation in both directions. "I mean that your posture of animosity towards Rei has softened considerably – the impression of deep-seated venom has gone. Is it that you no longer feel threatened by her?"
I ducked the cuff she aimed at my head.
"You have no manners at all," she hissed. "I'd never feel threatened by that plastic-brained doll."
"You say 'doll', but you do not believe that any more," I said. "You understand that she, now more than ever, is her own person and acts by her own will. She makes choices for herself. She is not a doll..."
I trailed off, seeing the grief on Asuka's face.
"I am sorry. You are right, it is not my business. I should not pry." I pushed myself off the wall, preparing to return to the kitchen. "If you are less angry than previously, if you feel less pressured and frustrated, then I am happy for you. I hope you are able to consolidate this peace within yourself."
In earlier days, I would have found her discomfort interesting – even entertaining – and pursued interrogation for the sake of experimental result. Now, as someone holding genuine affection for her, my own emotions rippled to Asuka's grief – and so sparing her the turmoil of confrontation was itself a kind of selfishness, I supposed.
I started to walk past her, but she bumped me with her shoulder. Surprised, I responded to the unexpected signal and stayed by her side.
There was a moment of silence as Asuka took a long breath. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, the tone so even and flat it sounded almost emotionless. "When I was little, my mother was a test subject for the Evangelion. It ... the experiment went wrong, and her mind ... broke."
I drew a sharp breath.
Asuka ploughed on, her voice faint and distant as she recounted her trauma. "She forgot who I was. She looked at me like I was a stranger, someone she'd never met... But there was this doll, this stupid rag doll, and she talked to it as if it was me, telling it to – to eat its vegetables, telling it not to cry... This doll was more real to her as a daughter than I was. It replaced me in her mind..." She was whispering now. "So if I wasn't Mama's daughter, who was I? …I was no-one ... nothing..."
I drew her into an embrace, and as she tucked her head under my chin I stroked her hair gently. So the part of Kyoko's soul that was Asuka's mother had been severed, trapped in Unit 02, leaving only a distorted echo – a ghost possessing the shell of her body. Like a puppet on strings of corrupted instinct, what was left of Kyoko became fixated on that doll, mindlessly going through the motions of maternal care, and all the while her real daughter was right in front of her, watching, ignored.
Rei must have seemed like the embodiment of all Asuka's insecurities, of everything to which she feared losing all she had.
"It wasn't so bad when I was winning," Asuka said, muffled in my shoulder. "I had a higher sync ratio than her, I did more against the Angels ... But then it all started to go wrong, and I got so scared... If I lost to her – to a doll – then I'd be replaced again. I'd be no-one, and nothing, all over again."
I held her more tightly. "You could never be 'no-one'," I whispered fiercely. "Never."
"You're choking me, idiot," she complained, and I loosened my hold, apologising.
We leant against the wall again, side by side as before, but now our shoulders touched and I felt warmth from Asuka, and that she was trembling just slightly.
"Such strength," I murmured. "To survive as you have done, to carry on ... and now to commit yourself to stepping out of her shadow and living in fear no more ... I am amazed." That the vulnerability of humans could inspire in them not only despair, but determination – I did not think I would ever fail to admire this.
"'Course I'm amazing," she said, but I sensed just a hint of embarrassed modesty under her pretence of arrogance.
Then she sighed. "When I first came here, I saw that they were close – Shinji and the First, I mean." She hesitated slightly before speaking Rei's title, and I wondered how long it would take her to use her name. "I thought they were together. I was the new girl, she was the favourite of everyone at NERV – it seemed like everyone was in cahoots together and I wasn't needed at all. And the famous Third Child, the champion defeater of Angels, was just this whiny little brat ... but he kept looking at her, not me... It was really annoying! I ... guess I was a little jealous...
"I liked him. It wasn't just that I wanted his attention or that I wanted to win over her, I really liked him. But it all got messed up, and I couldn't look at him that way anymore – I couldn't forget that his sync ratio was better, that he'd destroyed the Angels that had beaten me..."
She tilted her head back against the wall. "And then I looked inside today, after he hugged me, and those feelings ... they were gone. They'd faded and disappeared. He's just Shinji now. Friend, roomie, dorktacular idiot – the whole package. Just ... Shinji."
I thought to myself that Shinji being Shinji was more than enough reason to love him. But those were my feelings, not Asuka's. "I see."
Suddenly she elbowed me sharply. "You are absolutely forbidden to tell anyone I said any of this, ever, or else I hunt you down without mercy. Understand?"
"Loud and clear." I winced and rubbed my arm, which seemed to be her favourite target.
She huffed. "Though really, you have a weird record of hunches anyway... sometimes I think you could be psychic or something..."
I glanced at her in alarm, but she had turned her back to me and was finger-combing her hair, like a cat grooming itself to express its indifference to a previous subject of attention. "I thought psychics could foretell the future?" I said, trying to lighten the mood. "Or was it sensing ghosts?"
She waved a hand dismissively. "Don't believe everything you read. Con artists preying on the gullible and the vulnerable – it's easy to fool laymen if you have a grasp of basic psychology. There's no credible scientific evidence of people having or using paranormal abilities, or of supernatural phenomena."
I followed her into the kitchen, smiling. "But if it were empirically established as fact, would it then cease being paranormal or supernatural, and become simply normal and natural?"
"Don't get smart with me, Wonderboy!" Asuka warned me.
At the kitchen table, Misato looked up from her laptop. "What's Kaworu done this time?" she asked teasingly.
I affected an air of injured innocence.
"He's being tricky with words," Asuka said; hands on hips, she then addressed the boy at the stove. "Hey Shinji, is dinner ready or what?"
"Sorry, not yet," he said, and promptly dropped his wooden spoon. "Sorry..."
Asuka rolled her eyes. "Apologising for nothing again..."
"Now, now, that's just how Shinji is," I said. "He would hardly be himself if he were not so kind." Out the corner of my eye, I saw Shinji blushing and shaking his head.
"Subservient, you mean," Asuka corrected. As she passed me on her way to the living room, I touched her arm lightly. "What now?" she said impatiently.
"Thank you," I said quietly. "After everything that has happened, you again trust me enough to confide in me. It makes me very happy. Thank you, Asuka."
She looked embarrassed. "Huh. I don't know how you can say such corny stuff with a straight face. And it's not going to happen again, got it? You just mind your own business and quit bothering me. That's an order, Wonderboy."
She swept past, and I shook my head, smiling.
I was not the only one wishing to mend bridges with Asuka – Rei, kneeling at the kotatsu, watched her as she set up her gaming console. Her face was expressionless and she said nothing, but she was watching. It seemed as though the will for healing existed on both sides of that relationship, and I rejoiced inside.
I sensed eyes upon me, and turned to see that Misato had been observing. She smiled. "You're a really sweet guy, Kaworu, you know that?"
I sat beside her at the kitchen table. "If you say so, Misato."
She poked me with her reversed pen. "I mean you're always watching over them with such a kind expression – Rei, Shinji, and Asuka. It's so sweet how much you care for them. You've really made friends here, haven't you?"
Looking at the people around me, meeting Shinji's smile and returning it whole-heartedly, I felt content, as though my heart itself were at rest. "Yes, I have. I feel as though I am home."
Shinji's expression matched what I felt. "Welcome home, Kaworu."