The Best Present
By Misato Kaji
Disclaimer: This is a not-for-profit fanfiction piece, and is not authorized by Gainax in any way. Gainax it the rightful owner of Neon Genesis Evangelion.
Ikari Shinji lay flat on his back in bed in perfect silence, his slow, measured breathing the only indication that he was even alive. The city outside his window burned with merry color, casting brilliant illumination on the boy's face even on this floor of the apartment building he lived in, and while he was too high up to hear the sounds of merriment from the streets below, he knew they were there.
It was December 24th, Christmas Eve, and he should have been happy - like all those people outside, hurrying about their last-minute tasks before the close of business, trying to find that last, perfect gift.
But Shinji was not happy.
He knew it was expected of him, but he could not manage it, so he had bade his other two roommates good evening and turned in. Soryu Asuka Langley, pilot of Evangelion Unit 02, had waved him off without looking up from the TV show she was watching, and their guardian, Katsuragi Misato, had barely glanced up from her paperwork to offer him an apologetic, albeit brief, goodnight.
"Seasons Greetings," the boy murmured, breaking the silence as he slide his left hand under his pillow. "And to all a good night..."
Another angel had fallen precisely thirty-seven days prior. The twelfth Nerv had faced, though it was dubbed the fourteenth or the 'Angel of Might by those in positions of authority. This meant that only three angels remained, and it would all be over. Just three more battles, three more desperate struggles for survival.
Three more times he would need to enter Eva.
Suzuhara Toji, one of Shinji's best friends, had been so badly wounded by Evangelion Unit 01 that he had been admitted to the hospital on the brink of death. The doctors were not able to save his leg.
Kaji Ryuji, Misato's former lover, was dead. Shinji knew that in his heart of hearts - and had known since he had witnessed Misato weeping uncontrollably on the dining room floor, Kaji's voice whispering from the answering machine like a ghost unable to leave this world.
Had he, Shinji, tried to help his grieving guardian? No, not he! He was but a child, a weak, cowardly, insignificant thing, incapable of offering comfort - even when he knew someone else was in pain.
Was there a reason to go on, he wondered? None that he could see. If he piloted again, someone was bound to be hurt. And he included himself in that statement as well. How could he not? Every time he was inserted into the purple mecha, he was hurt somehow - by the feedback the monster pulsed directly into his mind, or the actual, physical pain of being slammed around like an insect in a child's mason jar, he was always hurt by Eva.
He had hoped, briefly, that Asuka might become his friend. Or possibly, more. They had kissed, once, when Misato was out for the evening. She had held his nose closed when they did it, but despite that, he could still remember how she smelled that night. There had not been a second kiss, and indeed, Asuka did not have the time for him past that. She walked with him to school, but that was the extent of their interaction. She still spoke to him, but it was surface conversation - never any deep, TRUE interaction.
No, he decided, in spite of the good cheer without, and the thee presents under the tree with his name on it, the best present he could give his two roommates was release of obligation. Asuka would not have to compete with him anymore... Misato would not be burdened by him anymore... and his father would not be embarrassed by him anymore. Yes, a quiet retreat from their presence, given that very evening after they had gone to bed, would be best.
And he already had the means for his departure. He had but to wait for them to go to bed, so they would not hear him, then he would leave this place.
"No more," he whispered tiredly, closing his eyes and envisioning the face of Ikari Gendo, the commander of Nerv. "No more, Father. I can't do it again, I just can't. How many more people will be hurt, like Toji? How many more will die - like Kaji? It has to end."
"Shinji?"
He blinked as a knock sounded on his door.
He briefly considered feigning sleep, but he reasoned that this might be the last time they saw one another, and while she would not know that, it would be better to hear what she had to say that evening.
Yes, that would be best.
"Yes, Misato?" he called softly.
"May I come in?"
"Yeah," Shinji replied, pulling his hand carefully out from under his pillow and resting it on his stomach. "Sure."
The door to his 'Lovely Suite' slid quietly open on its oiled tracks, revealing the purple-haired director of Nerv operations. Shinji glanced up at her, noting that her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, from which a few strands had pulled free, dangling limply in front of her expressive brown eyes. She was wearing a pair of jeans, ones that Shinji noticed did not hug her body the way they used to. An indication of the late nights and skipped meals the woman was enduring of late.
"What is it?" Shinji asked listlessly, glancing back to the ceiling of his darkened room.
Misato entered slowly, pausing to slide the door closed once more, and leaned against his wall, watching him in silence. What she saw concerned her a great deal. Certainly, Shinji was not the happiest child she had ever known, but tonight there was a quality of hollowness and sorrow etched upon his young face, an expression that would not allow her to simply stand by and let him be alone.
"I wanted to give you my present now," she answered, though she stayed against the wall and did not approach him. "And I wanted to talk to you for a minute, if that's ok."
"That's fine," Shinji told her, sketching a shrug and bringing his other hand off of his forehead to join the first on his stomach.
Misato decided that this pose was a shade too similar to the one corpses reposed in at funerals. Shaking off the comparison of her charge and a cadaver, she whispered, "I'm going to come over there, is that alright?"
Another shrug was her only reply.
Misato glanced down, making her way carefully across the floor in the near-dark and trying her best not to step on anything. The pitfalls of an average teenager were present, of course, for while Shinji was a very tidy person, he had gathered quite a few personal effects over the months he lived there, and there was only so much space to work with. In her short journey to his side, she stepped over a textbook, a pencil, and an extra pair of school shoes that had somehow worked their way out from under his bed. She frowned, though, as her eyes lighted on an immaculately folded, carefully selected outfit - the kind one picks out for a special event.
Finally reaching her destination, she glanced down at him.
Shinji watched in silence as she lowered herself, not onto the bed with him, but onto the floor at its side, kneeling almost formally at eye level with him, her hands resting on her knees. In spite of himself, he found his curiosity peaked. Misato was never quiet if she could avoid it, and all of her body language, from her straightened spine to her downcast eyes, spoke of supplication or subservience - qualities she was not generally known for.
When she had not spoken after three minutes, Shinji looked away, returning his eyes to their study of the ceiling. If she wanted to speak, he reasoned, she would. He was not up to initiating a conversation. Not then. Not that night.
"Shinji," Misato said quietly, keeping her eyes focused on the floor. "I owe you something."
"Owe?" Shinji murmured, a slight frown creasing his brow as he examined the cracks in the plaster above him. "What do you mean?"
"You've been living with me for over five months now," Misato began, her hands tightening slightly on her knees, "and since you've gotten here, I haven't been..." she paused, choosing her words with great care. "I haven't been very good to you."
Shinji's brow smoothed. "Oh," he answered. He waited for her to speak again, but when it was clear that she was waiting for more of a reply, he added, "I'm ok, Misato. I never expected you to be more than you are. You're my commanding officer, so you don't need to say you're sorry."
"I'm not saying I'm sorry," Misato pointed out. "I won't apologize for treating you like a soldier in Unit 01, or having you risk your life to save others. I won't say 'sorry I pushed you to help people,' Shinji, and I hope you wouldn't expect me to." She took a deep breath. "What I am saying sorry for," she told him, "is treating you like you were ONLY a solider - like you weren't more than that."
"Oh," Shinji said again. "It's not important, Misato."
"Yes," Misato replied, "it is. It is to me, Shinji, because you are more than that." She studied his face in the dark for a moment, trying to see if she was reaching him. When he did not say anything, she continued, "You're important to me, Shinji, very much so. And I don't think that I tell you that enough - if I've even told you that at all."
Shinji's frown returned, but he still did not reply.
Misato swallowed, trying to keep her voice level. "But I think it's time you knew how important you are, Shinji," she said gently. "I can't go on seeing you unhappy - seeing you thinking you're worthless, because you're not. You've come to mean so much to me - so much." She waited until Shinji turned his head, his eyes glimmering with uncertainty, before nodding. "I don't have much in this world, Shinji," she told him seriously, "and I think, maybe, it's time to make sure that what I have, I keep." She reached out, slowly putting her right hand on top of his. "I want to keep you close to me," she whispered, squeezing his hand gently, "because you're important to me, Shinji. And what I wanted to apologize for, is not telling you that sooner."
Shinji's eyes widened as Misato reclaimed her hand, reaching back to untie the simple leather string that held her cross pendant in place.
"My mother gave me this when I was nine," Misato said quietly, holding it between her outstretched hands. "I can still remember what she told me when she tied it around my neck. She said, 'Wear this until you have a child of your own, Misato, then, when they're old enough to understand, you give it to them, ok? It will be a new tradition - started right now by you and me.'" Slowly, she reached out and set the pendant on Shinji's chest, then bowed at the side of his bed, pressing her forehead to the floor, whispering, "Please accept it, my apology, and my promise. I promise you, here and now, that I will always be there for you, Shinji. No matter what happens from now on, I won't let you down anymore. I will always protect you."
Shinji did not know what to say. All the thoughts he had about the major, some of them remarkably cruel, were turned upside down. It was all he could do to breathe, let alone reply. His shock was only intensified as Misato rose to her knees once more and leaned in close to him, pressing her lips gently to his forehead.
"It's after twelve," Misato whispered, pulling back from the stunned boy's personal space. "And I've given you the only present I think means anything." She rose slowly to her feet, smiling down at him as she whispered, "Merry Christmas, Shinji." Not waiting for a reply, she made her way back across the room and opened the door, slipping out with a final, gentle smile.
As the door slid closed, Shinji lifted the pendant up to look at it. The shiny white surface of the cross reflected the ambient light from the dimly visible Christmas displays outside, giving it a soft, reddish glow - and the illusion of being damp.
"It looks like blood," Shinji mused, swinging the pendant to and fro.
For a long, long moment he contemplated the pendant and Misato's words. She would always be there to protect him. Could he believe her? Did he dare? What choice did he have, though - proceed with his initial plan, or risk having Misato go back on her promise, leaving him alone again? Maybe, he decided, it was worth the risk. Maybe he could take just one more chance on trust, and friendship.
"Alright," he whispered to the empty room, "I'll take it."
Slowly sitting up in bed, he tied the necklace carefully in place, glancing down as it hung delicately against his breastbone. Yes, one more try - then, if it proved a foolish decision, he could always do what he had planned to do that evening.
Polished metal gleamed in the harsh light from outside as Shinji reached under his pillow and withdrew the small pistol he had taken from the Nerv armory for 'training' five days prior. Though it was only a small firearm, it felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. He considered its dead black finish for a moment, knowing how easily it could take life. One bullet. One squeeze of the trigger. One second, and it would be over. No more pain. No more burdening others. No more anything.
Taking a deep breath, Shinji slid the safety on the weapon back into place.
Not tonight, he decided. He would take Misato's present, and see if it was truly all that she promised it would be. If it was not, he reasoned, he could always finish what he had started. There would be other quiet evenings, if she was not willing, or able, to give him the present she promised. Then, if necessary, he would return to this place, and find that one second.
Leaning forward, Ikari Shinji rested his head against the smooth, cool metal of the pistol, closing his eyes as the fingers of his other hand stroked the cross lightly... and he wept...
The End.
Final notes - This story was written specifically for Ryoma's Christmas fiction contest, and was preread by him. I would like to take a moment to thank him for conducting the contest itself, and taking the time to preread for me. Thank you. Constructive comments and criticisms are always welcomed at misatokaji2002@yahoo.com
By Misato Kaji
Disclaimer: This is a not-for-profit fanfiction piece, and is not authorized by Gainax in any way. Gainax it the rightful owner of Neon Genesis Evangelion.
Ikari Shinji lay flat on his back in bed in perfect silence, his slow, measured breathing the only indication that he was even alive. The city outside his window burned with merry color, casting brilliant illumination on the boy's face even on this floor of the apartment building he lived in, and while he was too high up to hear the sounds of merriment from the streets below, he knew they were there.
It was December 24th, Christmas Eve, and he should have been happy - like all those people outside, hurrying about their last-minute tasks before the close of business, trying to find that last, perfect gift.
But Shinji was not happy.
He knew it was expected of him, but he could not manage it, so he had bade his other two roommates good evening and turned in. Soryu Asuka Langley, pilot of Evangelion Unit 02, had waved him off without looking up from the TV show she was watching, and their guardian, Katsuragi Misato, had barely glanced up from her paperwork to offer him an apologetic, albeit brief, goodnight.
"Seasons Greetings," the boy murmured, breaking the silence as he slide his left hand under his pillow. "And to all a good night..."
Another angel had fallen precisely thirty-seven days prior. The twelfth Nerv had faced, though it was dubbed the fourteenth or the 'Angel of Might by those in positions of authority. This meant that only three angels remained, and it would all be over. Just three more battles, three more desperate struggles for survival.
Three more times he would need to enter Eva.
Suzuhara Toji, one of Shinji's best friends, had been so badly wounded by Evangelion Unit 01 that he had been admitted to the hospital on the brink of death. The doctors were not able to save his leg.
Kaji Ryuji, Misato's former lover, was dead. Shinji knew that in his heart of hearts - and had known since he had witnessed Misato weeping uncontrollably on the dining room floor, Kaji's voice whispering from the answering machine like a ghost unable to leave this world.
Had he, Shinji, tried to help his grieving guardian? No, not he! He was but a child, a weak, cowardly, insignificant thing, incapable of offering comfort - even when he knew someone else was in pain.
Was there a reason to go on, he wondered? None that he could see. If he piloted again, someone was bound to be hurt. And he included himself in that statement as well. How could he not? Every time he was inserted into the purple mecha, he was hurt somehow - by the feedback the monster pulsed directly into his mind, or the actual, physical pain of being slammed around like an insect in a child's mason jar, he was always hurt by Eva.
He had hoped, briefly, that Asuka might become his friend. Or possibly, more. They had kissed, once, when Misato was out for the evening. She had held his nose closed when they did it, but despite that, he could still remember how she smelled that night. There had not been a second kiss, and indeed, Asuka did not have the time for him past that. She walked with him to school, but that was the extent of their interaction. She still spoke to him, but it was surface conversation - never any deep, TRUE interaction.
No, he decided, in spite of the good cheer without, and the thee presents under the tree with his name on it, the best present he could give his two roommates was release of obligation. Asuka would not have to compete with him anymore... Misato would not be burdened by him anymore... and his father would not be embarrassed by him anymore. Yes, a quiet retreat from their presence, given that very evening after they had gone to bed, would be best.
And he already had the means for his departure. He had but to wait for them to go to bed, so they would not hear him, then he would leave this place.
"No more," he whispered tiredly, closing his eyes and envisioning the face of Ikari Gendo, the commander of Nerv. "No more, Father. I can't do it again, I just can't. How many more people will be hurt, like Toji? How many more will die - like Kaji? It has to end."
"Shinji?"
He blinked as a knock sounded on his door.
He briefly considered feigning sleep, but he reasoned that this might be the last time they saw one another, and while she would not know that, it would be better to hear what she had to say that evening.
Yes, that would be best.
"Yes, Misato?" he called softly.
"May I come in?"
"Yeah," Shinji replied, pulling his hand carefully out from under his pillow and resting it on his stomach. "Sure."
The door to his 'Lovely Suite' slid quietly open on its oiled tracks, revealing the purple-haired director of Nerv operations. Shinji glanced up at her, noting that her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, from which a few strands had pulled free, dangling limply in front of her expressive brown eyes. She was wearing a pair of jeans, ones that Shinji noticed did not hug her body the way they used to. An indication of the late nights and skipped meals the woman was enduring of late.
"What is it?" Shinji asked listlessly, glancing back to the ceiling of his darkened room.
Misato entered slowly, pausing to slide the door closed once more, and leaned against his wall, watching him in silence. What she saw concerned her a great deal. Certainly, Shinji was not the happiest child she had ever known, but tonight there was a quality of hollowness and sorrow etched upon his young face, an expression that would not allow her to simply stand by and let him be alone.
"I wanted to give you my present now," she answered, though she stayed against the wall and did not approach him. "And I wanted to talk to you for a minute, if that's ok."
"That's fine," Shinji told her, sketching a shrug and bringing his other hand off of his forehead to join the first on his stomach.
Misato decided that this pose was a shade too similar to the one corpses reposed in at funerals. Shaking off the comparison of her charge and a cadaver, she whispered, "I'm going to come over there, is that alright?"
Another shrug was her only reply.
Misato glanced down, making her way carefully across the floor in the near-dark and trying her best not to step on anything. The pitfalls of an average teenager were present, of course, for while Shinji was a very tidy person, he had gathered quite a few personal effects over the months he lived there, and there was only so much space to work with. In her short journey to his side, she stepped over a textbook, a pencil, and an extra pair of school shoes that had somehow worked their way out from under his bed. She frowned, though, as her eyes lighted on an immaculately folded, carefully selected outfit - the kind one picks out for a special event.
Finally reaching her destination, she glanced down at him.
Shinji watched in silence as she lowered herself, not onto the bed with him, but onto the floor at its side, kneeling almost formally at eye level with him, her hands resting on her knees. In spite of himself, he found his curiosity peaked. Misato was never quiet if she could avoid it, and all of her body language, from her straightened spine to her downcast eyes, spoke of supplication or subservience - qualities she was not generally known for.
When she had not spoken after three minutes, Shinji looked away, returning his eyes to their study of the ceiling. If she wanted to speak, he reasoned, she would. He was not up to initiating a conversation. Not then. Not that night.
"Shinji," Misato said quietly, keeping her eyes focused on the floor. "I owe you something."
"Owe?" Shinji murmured, a slight frown creasing his brow as he examined the cracks in the plaster above him. "What do you mean?"
"You've been living with me for over five months now," Misato began, her hands tightening slightly on her knees, "and since you've gotten here, I haven't been..." she paused, choosing her words with great care. "I haven't been very good to you."
Shinji's brow smoothed. "Oh," he answered. He waited for her to speak again, but when it was clear that she was waiting for more of a reply, he added, "I'm ok, Misato. I never expected you to be more than you are. You're my commanding officer, so you don't need to say you're sorry."
"I'm not saying I'm sorry," Misato pointed out. "I won't apologize for treating you like a soldier in Unit 01, or having you risk your life to save others. I won't say 'sorry I pushed you to help people,' Shinji, and I hope you wouldn't expect me to." She took a deep breath. "What I am saying sorry for," she told him, "is treating you like you were ONLY a solider - like you weren't more than that."
"Oh," Shinji said again. "It's not important, Misato."
"Yes," Misato replied, "it is. It is to me, Shinji, because you are more than that." She studied his face in the dark for a moment, trying to see if she was reaching him. When he did not say anything, she continued, "You're important to me, Shinji, very much so. And I don't think that I tell you that enough - if I've even told you that at all."
Shinji's frown returned, but he still did not reply.
Misato swallowed, trying to keep her voice level. "But I think it's time you knew how important you are, Shinji," she said gently. "I can't go on seeing you unhappy - seeing you thinking you're worthless, because you're not. You've come to mean so much to me - so much." She waited until Shinji turned his head, his eyes glimmering with uncertainty, before nodding. "I don't have much in this world, Shinji," she told him seriously, "and I think, maybe, it's time to make sure that what I have, I keep." She reached out, slowly putting her right hand on top of his. "I want to keep you close to me," she whispered, squeezing his hand gently, "because you're important to me, Shinji. And what I wanted to apologize for, is not telling you that sooner."
Shinji's eyes widened as Misato reclaimed her hand, reaching back to untie the simple leather string that held her cross pendant in place.
"My mother gave me this when I was nine," Misato said quietly, holding it between her outstretched hands. "I can still remember what she told me when she tied it around my neck. She said, 'Wear this until you have a child of your own, Misato, then, when they're old enough to understand, you give it to them, ok? It will be a new tradition - started right now by you and me.'" Slowly, she reached out and set the pendant on Shinji's chest, then bowed at the side of his bed, pressing her forehead to the floor, whispering, "Please accept it, my apology, and my promise. I promise you, here and now, that I will always be there for you, Shinji. No matter what happens from now on, I won't let you down anymore. I will always protect you."
Shinji did not know what to say. All the thoughts he had about the major, some of them remarkably cruel, were turned upside down. It was all he could do to breathe, let alone reply. His shock was only intensified as Misato rose to her knees once more and leaned in close to him, pressing her lips gently to his forehead.
"It's after twelve," Misato whispered, pulling back from the stunned boy's personal space. "And I've given you the only present I think means anything." She rose slowly to her feet, smiling down at him as she whispered, "Merry Christmas, Shinji." Not waiting for a reply, she made her way back across the room and opened the door, slipping out with a final, gentle smile.
As the door slid closed, Shinji lifted the pendant up to look at it. The shiny white surface of the cross reflected the ambient light from the dimly visible Christmas displays outside, giving it a soft, reddish glow - and the illusion of being damp.
"It looks like blood," Shinji mused, swinging the pendant to and fro.
For a long, long moment he contemplated the pendant and Misato's words. She would always be there to protect him. Could he believe her? Did he dare? What choice did he have, though - proceed with his initial plan, or risk having Misato go back on her promise, leaving him alone again? Maybe, he decided, it was worth the risk. Maybe he could take just one more chance on trust, and friendship.
"Alright," he whispered to the empty room, "I'll take it."
Slowly sitting up in bed, he tied the necklace carefully in place, glancing down as it hung delicately against his breastbone. Yes, one more try - then, if it proved a foolish decision, he could always do what he had planned to do that evening.
Polished metal gleamed in the harsh light from outside as Shinji reached under his pillow and withdrew the small pistol he had taken from the Nerv armory for 'training' five days prior. Though it was only a small firearm, it felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. He considered its dead black finish for a moment, knowing how easily it could take life. One bullet. One squeeze of the trigger. One second, and it would be over. No more pain. No more burdening others. No more anything.
Taking a deep breath, Shinji slid the safety on the weapon back into place.
Not tonight, he decided. He would take Misato's present, and see if it was truly all that she promised it would be. If it was not, he reasoned, he could always finish what he had started. There would be other quiet evenings, if she was not willing, or able, to give him the present she promised. Then, if necessary, he would return to this place, and find that one second.
Leaning forward, Ikari Shinji rested his head against the smooth, cool metal of the pistol, closing his eyes as the fingers of his other hand stroked the cross lightly... and he wept...
The End.
Final notes - This story was written specifically for Ryoma's Christmas fiction contest, and was preread by him. I would like to take a moment to thank him for conducting the contest itself, and taking the time to preread for me. Thank you. Constructive comments and criticisms are always welcomed at misatokaji2002@yahoo.com