"Down the years you have often asked, 'what is Nerv?' Well now you know. We are your protectors and under our watch mankind shall survive the coming storm." A rare statement in a rare conference given by Gendo Ikari. 7th May 2017.
XXVI
Misato downed the can as Shinji went back to bed, brown gaze subtly following him. For although her mind was partially addled by her old friend Yesibu-san, even she could detect something was wrong.
Shinji's already haggard form somehow looked gaunter than usual. Was that just lack of sleep?
It's too damn late for that kind of thing. I'll think about it some more in the morning.
Letting her head roll back into her sofa, Misato could hear the distant whine of a car drive past. Sometimes, if she allowed it, it would irritate her. A car was meant to make a throaty roar, not a whimper.
There I am being an old woman again.
She closed her eyes to snatch a few hours more sleep, but fearful, animalistic, instinct fought her at every turn. As she struggled to drift off, the thought of going back to that place from which she always awoke in sheets of sweat became less and less appealing.
Misato gave up and blearily opened her eyes again.
"Fuck."
Regardless of how early she needed to be up in the morning, sleep would not come. For now Misato sat alone with her thoughts.
Will I ever stop having these dreams? It's been seventeen years already.
Reaching for the remote to take her mind off it, she switched her television on with the volume turned down. She might have been a slob, but Misato kept her neighbours in mind.
Flicking through the channels, it was the usual stuff, sitcoms, anime, the insanity of Takeshi's Castle. These were the normal things that helped keep the world spinning, kept people laughing when Chinese shells fell all around them. However, she paused at NHK World.
Helicopter footage of Nakisawame's wreckage, of the burnt-out husks of tanks littering a one-sided battlefield, of the Emperor giving a speech, and grainy illegal footage of two titans locked in a battle to the death, flashed across the screen. A pale faced female newsreader, who looked the same age as Misato, sombrely read through casualty reports and reconstruction efforts.
It wasn't just Japan, of course. Media across the world had gone crazy, talking about nothing else but the giant monster which had swept aside Japan's armies in one day. That, and every reporter in the world wanted the scoop on the secretive Nerv.
No more doing things in the dark, eh? Misato wondered when she'd get an impromptu interview. Hopefully never unless the reporter was cute.
The last thing she wanted, on top of all the paperwork, stress and worry, was some paparazzi hack bombarding her with questions. Those woeful few questions she could answer she'd have to do so with a smile to mask all the fear everyone felt in Nerv.
They'd a duty not to frighten the people whose lives depended on them.
But all mankind had very good reason to be afraid.
Misato sighed.
The weight that hung around her neck was heavy enough.
Even though it isn't the same way, I do understand, Shinji-kun. Having the world on your shoulders is no easy thing.
She unconsciously touched her cross, a part of her still bitter as to how this weight had been unceremoniously dumped on her as a teenager, as a fourteen-year-old girl bleeding out on those now vaporised frozen wastes.
All a parting gift from her father.
Misato abruptly made her way to the fridge. She needed alcohol to wash away any thought of howling Antarctic wind and hellish red eyes dotted within a blizzard. She cracked open a can and let the ice cold yet hot liquid burn her throat. The memories were washed away by an alcoholic haze for just a moment which ironically cleared her mind.
Yet even when it was adrift, Misato Katsuragi's mind never truly stopped thinking. For the waves of the subconscious soon carried her thoughts over to the shore that was her troubled young ward.
She sighed and necked the whole can.
What do I do with him? I'm not a parent. I'm scarcely a guardian.
Leaning against the fridge, she massaged her brow and dwelt on her earlier phone call to Ritsuko. It had been a long time since she'd heard such venom in her old friend's voice, but it had been acidic enough to make her cringe.
"You keep that vicious thug away from her. Do you understand!?"
Sure. Problem is he's not a thug.
Oh he'd done something awful. But the way he carried himself over it indicated no pride in the act, nor desire to repeat it.
He's screwed up and he knows it…Misato drummed her fingers on the empty can. Not really much point hammering that in anymore, Rits.
Despite the anger and the enmity over the subject, the shame in Shinji's hunched over posture was obvious: he'd learned his lesson. Rei needn't fear anything from him for now.
That wasn't what bothered Misato though.
I think he's a nice kid. He just swings from one extreme to another too damn quickly. Something isn't right.
Misato took out another beer can and walked over to the kitchen table. Pulling out a chair, she sat on it and muttered to herself.
"Is he bipolar? Or is there more going on under the hood?" She fiddled with the can as she tried to think of some way to help him, but every idea crashed into a solid wall of painful reality.
Would probably make a total mess of it if I tried to do anything anyway. I am a soldier, not a therapist. I'd probably make it worse.
The sound of the other fridge door sliding open caught her attention. A bleary-eyed penguin waddled out. He looked up at her with vague confusion.
She smiled and yawned. "Sorry, buddy. Did I wake you up?"
The penguin trilled quietly, then smooshed himself against her leg. Misato ruffled his head and slid the unopened can of Yesibu into his wings. Pen-pen snuggled some more in gratitude.
Here I am drinking the night away with my pet penguin. Heh, Shinji-kun's not the only one messed up here.
Her phone buzzed. She flipped it open and saw a text message light up the screen.
All staff. Early start required tomorrow.
CASPAR.
"Fuck."
It was a good thing she'd no plans of going back to sleep. By the time her annoyance had finished bubbling, Misato got up to boil the kettle for her first coffee of the day. By her reckoning, she'd need quite a bit of caffeine.
Behind her, Pen-pen had already hopped onto his seat, his gaze hovering over some of yesterday's crossword puzzles which she always left out for him. Misato allowed the hiss of the kettle to mask her chuckle. She poured a glass of cold water then quickly downed one of her pills, that which allowed even the worst alcoholic to quickly sober up.
Modern medicine. What would I do without it?
She focused her mind on the day ahead and all it entailed: meetings, paperwork, and all the other things that sucked out someone's soul. Yet there was a bright side to her job.
Battle tactics.
In her mind's eye Misato had already pictured the layout of Nakisawame as a 3D model. Cities were a defender's dream. Every avenue was a choke point, and any house could be a fortress. An army could oh so easily die in a well defended city, as the Germans at Stalingrad had learned those long years ago.
Focus. She chastised herself. Whilst it was helpful to imagine Nakisawame in such a way, it wasn't everything. Seraphim were not an army; they were a force of nature. One that had to be slowed down, distracted, and its H-Field cracked before the killer blow could be struck.
Ideally I'll get military units on standby to blow off a limb or two after we've got its Field down. Then it should be a cake walk for Unit 01…suddenly the enthusiasm faded, and her stomach turned cold and hard at the thought of the monstrosity's forsaken pilot.
Nothing would ever be a cakewalk for Shinji Ikari.
Had humanity's survival ever been so dependent on the instabilities of a boy not yet sixteen? Although no great professor of history, Misato was pretty sure this was a worst part was knowing she had very little power over it. Aside from them having no choice but to throw him at whatever abomination came their way, the problems Shinji had, be it with Rei and his father, were far beyond her power to fix.
It was almost enough to make her neck another can.
She spooned some coffee powder into an empty cup. I'll see to it he gets some help when he goes home. But…there just isn't much I can do about it anyway. Besides, like he said, he'll only be here for a few more weeks. Even if I could so something, that's not enough time…
Misato's own thoughts didn't sound convinced.
Damn this war.
The kettle pinged as it boiled. She poured the hot water into the cup and mixed it together with the powder. Letting it warm her hands, Misato walked with it out onto her balcony. Very distantly a few shards of light began to spill over the dark blue horizon, as the faint sounds of shutters being opened and more cars trundling along tickled her ear.
Her city was waking up.
Salarymen prepared to make the commute to their miserable jobs, mothers braced for another day of keeping their demon spawn under control, monks made their morning prayers, construction workers got themselves clean for another twelve hours of hot, hard work, etc.
Should have gone into construction work. All the things I'd get to flatten and be paid good money for! And the men are hunks.
She raised the black coffee to her lips and sipped the steaming liquid. It sent a shiver down her spine. Blood pumped just that bit harder into a brain still wearily shaking off the daze of sleep and alcohol. It was as if she were one with her city.
Half right, I guess. If Nakisawame dies, then I do too…along with everyone else.
All those eight million people down there, and the near three billion more worldwide, depended on her in ways they couldn't imagine. It was a crushing burden for everyone on Nerv's payroll, but the job remained worthwhile.
At least, that's what I remind myself of every time I'm down there.
Regardless of less gallant motivations, she knew what she was protecting.
Shinji didn't have that luxury.
He certainly understood on paper what would happen and wanted to prevent it, but all those millions of faces likely didn't mean much to him. Whether he liked it or not, his piloting Eva was tied to his father as much as it was to mankind's future.
Gendo Ikari casts one hell of a long shadow…and I only work for him…upon thinking of her superior, a thought touched Misato's mind.
Huh…speaking of the boss, aside from him and myself, Shinji-kun doesn't really have any connections here as far as I know. By the sound of it, he'd even fewer back in Kure.
She frowned.
She'd known more than a few loners over the years, but they'd still had people they routinely talked to. Shinji meanwhile didn't have much company here aside from himself and had made no mention at all of friends or neighbours back in Kure.
It appeared he'd been alone to an almost ludicrous degree.
No friends…only one distant family member…no social skills…no medical record…Misato's hand, on impulse, fiddled with her cross.
It was as if Shinji hadn't just been kept off the grid all his life but kept away from other people as well.
Why would someone do that though? She sipped some more coffee, keeping those freshly roused neutrons alive. What's the point of isolating a teenage boy?
She dismissed the thought.
I'm just being paranoid. Lots of kids fall through the cracks. It happens.
As if disagreeing with her, Misato's memory conjured up an image of Shinji flinching whenever she raised her voice.
It was as if he expected a blow.
Stop it. She grit her teeth. Shinji-kun's a jittery guy, that's all. I have to focus on the here and now or else we'll both end up dead.