-Chapter 5-
It was near ten o'clock when I stepped out of the women's locker room with my black leather schoolbag in hand. My pale navy blue towel was tucked beneath my arm, and my hair hung down my eyes in wet curls like a shredded curtain. I had expected Ikari-kun to be gone by the time I was ready to leave. So it was quite a surprise to emerge from the locker rooms to find Ikari-kun sitting on a dark-stained wooden bench. He had his head bent down, reading a magazine. His head jerked up at the sound of the door closing. He stared at me for a moment before glancing away sheepishly.
I regarded him in silence. I saw him a man, a rock weathered by the elements, sculpted by fate, shaped by pain. I saw him a beserker, free, untamed, consumed by a quest not yet defined. I saw him a lost little boy, obedient, timid, forgotten in darkness. I saw this in him, in the way he looked away and the way he impulsively tensed his hands, in his piloting. I saw all of this and more, and I wondered what he saw when he looked at me.
Did he see a girl? A woman? Did he see a philosopher? Did he see loneliness? Despair? Sadness? Death? Did he see any of this when he looked at me? Or did he merely see a blue-haired doll, a shadow puppet dancing upon a lone wall, lit by the light reflected by yellow-tinted glasses? Empty and hollow inside. Did he see strings attached to my arms and legs leading up to a white gloved hand? I didn't want him to.
Fingers twitched, strings moved, my foot lifted up and I began to walk. When I was near Ikari-kun, the fingers continued to pull and tug at my feet, but I resisted them. I stood still before Ikari-kun, as the strings attempted to urge me forward and past the young boy that sat in front of me. I stood still; I defied the dark and thin strings that bound my arms and legs but I didn't know what to do next. I don't know what to think or feel at such times. So we sat in a unnerving silence for a few minutes until suddenly a voice spoke.
"Why are you here?"
Shinji was taken back by this question, and it took a moment for me to realize that the voice came from my throat.
"I-I just wanted to know if I could walk you home, Ayanami."
Walk? With me? Home? I would like that. I would like that a lot. I never thought about something like this before, but suddenly it was all I had ever wanted. The strings tugged violently. The voice spoke again.
"Very well."
It was so cold, that voice. So soft, cold, and distant. Very well? Is that all I could say? All I could think to say at a time like this? I silently gave in to the invisible twine and began to trudge off towards the doors.
Somewhere behind me, I heard Ikari-kun gather his belongings in haste. He rushed after me with papers rustling and half sticking out of his small school bag.
"Wait up." he called out.
I slowed down but did not stop. He caught up soon, but was still occupied by the many papers that refused to be locked away in his bag. The door closed behind us. A pale moon crept softly between the buildings that towered over the swim center, lighting his face is a hazy, glowing aura of beauty. I started walking to get ahead of him for I didn't want him to catch me staring. I don't know how to act or say at times like this. I didn't know how to face Ikari-kun. We were so similar and yet so different. I sensed in him a tiredness, tired of living, a longing to sleep the dark, deep, and fitful sleep of death. And yet there was also the smallest of sparks that burned within that prevented death, the smallest hint of purpose: Eva. Eva gave him a purpose as it did to me. I was created to serve this towering human creation, and I realized that he was too.
So we walked along, me with my arms dangling loosely at my side, and Shinji-kun still attempting to cram his various papers into his school bag. I heard a small gasp escape on a whisper of breath and turned to see a small rectangular box tumble free from behind the wrinkling papers. The moonlight flashed over its reflective surface, as a tangle of wires began to snake about in the air. My hand moved instinctively to intercept this foreign object before it smashed against the pavement and it fell heavily into my hand.
I turned the device slowly in my hand, running my fingers delicately over the embossed letters. SDAT my fingers spoke. Beneath my fingers, four buttons protruded from the side of Shinji-kun's walkman. My thumb lingered over the "play" button.
"Would you like to listen?"
I paused in my thoughts to glance at Shinji-kun. He was smiling, a secret smile almost as though he was anticipating something. I nodded once, numbly. I stood silently as Shinji-kun nervously slipped the ear piece around the top of my head. From somewhere deep in those black, plastic headphones a soft steady wind instrument could be heard. It was soon accompanied by a drum beat and finally a woman's voice.
Her voice was soft and gentle, a breath upon the wind. It lifted me up, carried me into the night. Nothing existed in the world except the voice, myself, and Shinji-kun. My mouth moved on its own.
"Who is she?"
"Let me hear what song it is."
He leaned close to the headphones, trying to not touch my face with his. As hard as he tried, our cheeks brushed and I could smell his sweet breath. He almost shrank back at the contact but I leaned closer, eyes closed, and he came back. We stayed that way for a moment until Shinji-kun broke away.
"That's Megumi Hayabarashi. The Alchemy of Love."
"She has a beautiful voice."
"It reminds me of yours."
My voice? Has he memorized my voice? How could he? Why would he? Once again I found no words. Many times before have I had words but no will to speak them. Now was different. I had the will, but the words vanished before I could even perceive their presence.
All I managed to do was look searchingly into his face. The bright moonlight reflecting luminously off the polished cobalt in his eyes held an enchantment. He looked back at me as though he looked through a dream. Together we made our way across town. Our path lit by an amorous moon set deeply in a melancholy sky.
It was late when we arrived at my battered and broken down apartment complex. Despite the late hour, the heavy sound of construction droned on in the background. The steady "clanking" sound served as a constant reminder of my duty to stop the Angels, my service to all of humanity. What the Angels destroy, we shall build anew. It was my calling, my destiny, my purpose. It was my death sentence.
Shinji-kun stood beside me and gazed up at the vertical rise of the building. Four flights of stairs separated us from my home.
I looked at Shinji-kun.
"Are you leaving now?"
"Well, no. I can walk you to your room. I mean.unless you don't want me to."
"The elevator is broken," I lied. "We must use the stairs."
And so we walked up four dark and narrow flights of stairs high up in a jeweled night sky.
We slipped off our shoes in the small area near the front door where the carpet didn't extend. Shinji-kun tip-toed through the hallway as though he sensed a presence in the room, of trapped memories and undreamt futures, that he did not wish to disturb.
"Would you like anything to drink?"
"I guess a glass of water.if it's not too much trouble.
Trouble, I thought to myself. Nothing for you would ever be trouble, Shinji-kun. Nothing.nothing would ever be.
"No trouble," my mouth whispered, too soft to be heard by human ears.
I made my way to the kitchen area and searched the largely unused cabinets. My hand swept over the empty shelves, stirring up clouds of shame. Oh please let there be a clean cup that Shinji-kun can drink from. My hand swept the empty shelves.
looked at the stack of unclean cups and dishes that laid piled up from the scummy sink. I took one from the top and held it by the lip between my thumb and index finger. It was made of bluish green glass. Dark stains blocked the light from coming through. I took the glass and filled it with water. I looked at the dark particles that floated lazily through the murky water.
"No trouble," I whispered and quietly grabbed a nearby sponge and began to scrub vigorously at the inside of the cup. The dirt loosened and fell from the sides. Soon the glass sparkled.
I took the clean glass filled with water into the living room which doubled as my bedroom and study. As I stepped in the room, I noticed that much of the crumpled paper that had littered the floor was gone. Shinji-kun stood hunched over with a clear plastic bag half-full of paper, bits of plastic, and crumbs.
"Oh.um.sorry, Ayanami," he said bashfully, setting the bag on the floor. "I've gotten used to doing chores. It was just garbage, right?"
I nodded stiffly.
"You don't mind, do you?"
Somewhere in the minutes that followed that question, I found my voice back.
"No. Not at all.thank you."
He smiled that secret smile and I nearly forgot all about the glass of water that my hand still grasped. I extended it out to him. He took it shyly from my hand. My skin prickled at the feel of his warm peach colored hands on my own.
With large gulps, he finished the glass. I took it from him and placed it on the dresser, beside a leather glass case. Shinji-kun looked at his watch. I looked at a small clock in the kitchen as though my stare alone might move the hands backward. We stood in my bedroom touching and yet not touching. We drank up all the possibilities: the sweet, the sour, and the bitter, to be digested later.
"I'd better get back. It's getting late," he said at last and collected his bag. "See ya later, Ayanami."
My mouth moved, but strings tightened around my neck and strangled the voice in my throat. My mouth moved mechanically, not unlike a fish breathing. I fought against the strings.
"Shinji-kun."
He turned around.
"I enjoyed our walk."
He stood with a shocked look upon his face before nodding.
"So did I."
And with that said, he turned and swung the heavy metal door open. It closed and with the soft gush of air came a realization. Perhaps Shinji-kun noticed it as well. It was the first time I had ever called him "Shinji."
It was near ten o'clock when I stepped out of the women's locker room with my black leather schoolbag in hand. My pale navy blue towel was tucked beneath my arm, and my hair hung down my eyes in wet curls like a shredded curtain. I had expected Ikari-kun to be gone by the time I was ready to leave. So it was quite a surprise to emerge from the locker rooms to find Ikari-kun sitting on a dark-stained wooden bench. He had his head bent down, reading a magazine. His head jerked up at the sound of the door closing. He stared at me for a moment before glancing away sheepishly.
I regarded him in silence. I saw him a man, a rock weathered by the elements, sculpted by fate, shaped by pain. I saw him a beserker, free, untamed, consumed by a quest not yet defined. I saw him a lost little boy, obedient, timid, forgotten in darkness. I saw this in him, in the way he looked away and the way he impulsively tensed his hands, in his piloting. I saw all of this and more, and I wondered what he saw when he looked at me.
Did he see a girl? A woman? Did he see a philosopher? Did he see loneliness? Despair? Sadness? Death? Did he see any of this when he looked at me? Or did he merely see a blue-haired doll, a shadow puppet dancing upon a lone wall, lit by the light reflected by yellow-tinted glasses? Empty and hollow inside. Did he see strings attached to my arms and legs leading up to a white gloved hand? I didn't want him to.
Fingers twitched, strings moved, my foot lifted up and I began to walk. When I was near Ikari-kun, the fingers continued to pull and tug at my feet, but I resisted them. I stood still before Ikari-kun, as the strings attempted to urge me forward and past the young boy that sat in front of me. I stood still; I defied the dark and thin strings that bound my arms and legs but I didn't know what to do next. I don't know what to think or feel at such times. So we sat in a unnerving silence for a few minutes until suddenly a voice spoke.
"Why are you here?"
Shinji was taken back by this question, and it took a moment for me to realize that the voice came from my throat.
"I-I just wanted to know if I could walk you home, Ayanami."
Walk? With me? Home? I would like that. I would like that a lot. I never thought about something like this before, but suddenly it was all I had ever wanted. The strings tugged violently. The voice spoke again.
"Very well."
It was so cold, that voice. So soft, cold, and distant. Very well? Is that all I could say? All I could think to say at a time like this? I silently gave in to the invisible twine and began to trudge off towards the doors.
Somewhere behind me, I heard Ikari-kun gather his belongings in haste. He rushed after me with papers rustling and half sticking out of his small school bag.
"Wait up." he called out.
I slowed down but did not stop. He caught up soon, but was still occupied by the many papers that refused to be locked away in his bag. The door closed behind us. A pale moon crept softly between the buildings that towered over the swim center, lighting his face is a hazy, glowing aura of beauty. I started walking to get ahead of him for I didn't want him to catch me staring. I don't know how to act or say at times like this. I didn't know how to face Ikari-kun. We were so similar and yet so different. I sensed in him a tiredness, tired of living, a longing to sleep the dark, deep, and fitful sleep of death. And yet there was also the smallest of sparks that burned within that prevented death, the smallest hint of purpose: Eva. Eva gave him a purpose as it did to me. I was created to serve this towering human creation, and I realized that he was too.
So we walked along, me with my arms dangling loosely at my side, and Shinji-kun still attempting to cram his various papers into his school bag. I heard a small gasp escape on a whisper of breath and turned to see a small rectangular box tumble free from behind the wrinkling papers. The moonlight flashed over its reflective surface, as a tangle of wires began to snake about in the air. My hand moved instinctively to intercept this foreign object before it smashed against the pavement and it fell heavily into my hand.
I turned the device slowly in my hand, running my fingers delicately over the embossed letters. SDAT my fingers spoke. Beneath my fingers, four buttons protruded from the side of Shinji-kun's walkman. My thumb lingered over the "play" button.
"Would you like to listen?"
I paused in my thoughts to glance at Shinji-kun. He was smiling, a secret smile almost as though he was anticipating something. I nodded once, numbly. I stood silently as Shinji-kun nervously slipped the ear piece around the top of my head. From somewhere deep in those black, plastic headphones a soft steady wind instrument could be heard. It was soon accompanied by a drum beat and finally a woman's voice.
Her voice was soft and gentle, a breath upon the wind. It lifted me up, carried me into the night. Nothing existed in the world except the voice, myself, and Shinji-kun. My mouth moved on its own.
"Who is she?"
"Let me hear what song it is."
He leaned close to the headphones, trying to not touch my face with his. As hard as he tried, our cheeks brushed and I could smell his sweet breath. He almost shrank back at the contact but I leaned closer, eyes closed, and he came back. We stayed that way for a moment until Shinji-kun broke away.
"That's Megumi Hayabarashi. The Alchemy of Love."
"She has a beautiful voice."
"It reminds me of yours."
My voice? Has he memorized my voice? How could he? Why would he? Once again I found no words. Many times before have I had words but no will to speak them. Now was different. I had the will, but the words vanished before I could even perceive their presence.
All I managed to do was look searchingly into his face. The bright moonlight reflecting luminously off the polished cobalt in his eyes held an enchantment. He looked back at me as though he looked through a dream. Together we made our way across town. Our path lit by an amorous moon set deeply in a melancholy sky.
It was late when we arrived at my battered and broken down apartment complex. Despite the late hour, the heavy sound of construction droned on in the background. The steady "clanking" sound served as a constant reminder of my duty to stop the Angels, my service to all of humanity. What the Angels destroy, we shall build anew. It was my calling, my destiny, my purpose. It was my death sentence.
Shinji-kun stood beside me and gazed up at the vertical rise of the building. Four flights of stairs separated us from my home.
I looked at Shinji-kun.
"Are you leaving now?"
"Well, no. I can walk you to your room. I mean.unless you don't want me to."
"The elevator is broken," I lied. "We must use the stairs."
And so we walked up four dark and narrow flights of stairs high up in a jeweled night sky.
We slipped off our shoes in the small area near the front door where the carpet didn't extend. Shinji-kun tip-toed through the hallway as though he sensed a presence in the room, of trapped memories and undreamt futures, that he did not wish to disturb.
"Would you like anything to drink?"
"I guess a glass of water.if it's not too much trouble.
Trouble, I thought to myself. Nothing for you would ever be trouble, Shinji-kun. Nothing.nothing would ever be.
"No trouble," my mouth whispered, too soft to be heard by human ears.
I made my way to the kitchen area and searched the largely unused cabinets. My hand swept over the empty shelves, stirring up clouds of shame. Oh please let there be a clean cup that Shinji-kun can drink from. My hand swept the empty shelves.
looked at the stack of unclean cups and dishes that laid piled up from the scummy sink. I took one from the top and held it by the lip between my thumb and index finger. It was made of bluish green glass. Dark stains blocked the light from coming through. I took the glass and filled it with water. I looked at the dark particles that floated lazily through the murky water.
"No trouble," I whispered and quietly grabbed a nearby sponge and began to scrub vigorously at the inside of the cup. The dirt loosened and fell from the sides. Soon the glass sparkled.
I took the clean glass filled with water into the living room which doubled as my bedroom and study. As I stepped in the room, I noticed that much of the crumpled paper that had littered the floor was gone. Shinji-kun stood hunched over with a clear plastic bag half-full of paper, bits of plastic, and crumbs.
"Oh.um.sorry, Ayanami," he said bashfully, setting the bag on the floor. "I've gotten used to doing chores. It was just garbage, right?"
I nodded stiffly.
"You don't mind, do you?"
Somewhere in the minutes that followed that question, I found my voice back.
"No. Not at all.thank you."
He smiled that secret smile and I nearly forgot all about the glass of water that my hand still grasped. I extended it out to him. He took it shyly from my hand. My skin prickled at the feel of his warm peach colored hands on my own.
With large gulps, he finished the glass. I took it from him and placed it on the dresser, beside a leather glass case. Shinji-kun looked at his watch. I looked at a small clock in the kitchen as though my stare alone might move the hands backward. We stood in my bedroom touching and yet not touching. We drank up all the possibilities: the sweet, the sour, and the bitter, to be digested later.
"I'd better get back. It's getting late," he said at last and collected his bag. "See ya later, Ayanami."
My mouth moved, but strings tightened around my neck and strangled the voice in my throat. My mouth moved mechanically, not unlike a fish breathing. I fought against the strings.
"Shinji-kun."
He turned around.
"I enjoyed our walk."
He stood with a shocked look upon his face before nodding.
"So did I."
And with that said, he turned and swung the heavy metal door open. It closed and with the soft gush of air came a realization. Perhaps Shinji-kun noticed it as well. It was the first time I had ever called him "Shinji."