Author's note: Based loosely on Sadamoto's "Evangelion" manga, which is owned by Gainax.

In the darkened kitchen, the school issued laptop bathed the boy in a lurid green light. Ikari Shinji sat contemplating his minimalist start:

Draft Report

by Ikari Shinji

Behind a wall of paperwork, a powerful snore choked and stuttered. Shinji stood and glanced over the stacked triplicate forms to see his guardian sleeping in her arms. Empty cans of Yebisu lay scattered nearby. Shinji sighed and entered the living room to pick up a blanket. On the way back to the kitchen, he glanced at the closed door to his former room. Asuka still wasn't back from Hikari's place. The boy slipped the blanket over the woman's shoulders and then plucked the phone from its carriage. He dialed the Horaki number.

"Hello?" asked the voice of his class representative pleasantly.

"Hello? This is Shinji. Is-"
"You've got a lot of nerve calling here! You vile perv!" the distant voice snarled.

"W-well-" Shinji stammered.

"After what you did, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" Hikari continued.

"Maybe this is a bad time," Shinji suggested. He winced as the phone slammed. He gently hung up. The pilot rubbed his ear before returning to his seat opposite of the sleeping woman. Since there wasn't anything else to do, he began typing.

One Weekend

1. Please Leave All Bags and Normalcy at the Counter

I deny any unlawful, carnal knowledge of the girl named Ito Midori. That is what the Intelligence Division 2 agent called it. Kensuke said that I should deny everything, but I can't. They have the photos. I didn't count on the paparazzi, nobody counts on the paparazzi.

Misato needs the final draft by tomorrow evening. Just write what's on your mind, she said. You should begin at the beginning. We can clean it up later. She then passed out.

Begin at the beginning.

This particular mess began at 6:00 PM Thursday, five days ago. We were headed home from NERV when Misato got the attack of the Munchies. She swung her Renault Alpine up to the driveway of the AM-PM. She wore a tank top, shorts, and a cap with her ponytail pulled through the back. It was one of her more innocuous outfits. I went for a bottle of fruit milk and packet of beef jerky. Misato picked up a six pack of Heineken and fried octopus puffs. I lined up behind her.

The boney teen didn't look really look up when she asked. "Oh, you're together, right? You and your son?"

"Son?" Misato asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, your kid," the girl answered. Her attention was still riveted to an idol magazine. She moved her neon blue fingernails from a fat,scarlet zit to the cash register, and absentmindedly rang up the purchases. Misato grabbed a small packet from a stand beside the counter and then seized me in an one-armed embrace.

"I'll take this, too," Misato sang as she handed the choice to the clerk. It was the size of a single piece of candy. "Shinji-dear, what numbers do you want tonight? My treat."

"My luck isn't too good," I said while trying to pull in a breath.
"Just pick six, any six."
I named off the first three off the top of my head. The month, day, two digit year, and Misato's three measurements. One of them was pressed against my face. The last three numbers were often quoted by Touji and Kensuke in ecstatic tones.

The clerk briefly glance from the magazine to tap out two lotto tickets and rang up the purchase.

"Wait a moment," the clerk squawked as she finally took notice.

My legal guardian and commander took the opportunity to flourish her choice before my eyes; it read "extra-strong, lubricated, and ribbed for her pleasure". Misato deposited the contraceptive device into my breast pocket. Misato handed me the ticket, bent over, and sealed the gift with a pretend kiss that hit all air. Still, it left the pimply clerk gawking and me blushing.

"Come along, honey," Misato said. I paid for my purchases, careful not to make eye contact with the clerk who gave me a hard look. I got into to the car. "You're blushing, that's so cute," she said as I entered.

I dug out the condom and tried to give it back to her. She took it out of my hand and shoved it back into my pocket.

"No, not me," she said with a sweet smile. "At least not tonight. Be sure to keep it, though, you never know when it might come in handy."

I tried to stammer a comeback, but couldn't think of one. Misato sang along with the radio on the way back. She was even in tune most of the time. I suppose that being sober and that it was "Witch Doctor" song helped.

*****

Thursday night was still ordinary. At home, Asuka slouched in front of the TV. She channel surfed while maxing out her mouth space with chips and green dip. I'm not sure what it was, but it was green.

"Hello," Misato called before heading straight for the shower. "Anyone need the bathroom?"

"Hi," I said as I put away the four remaining beer bottles.

"Welcome back," Asuka replied nonchalantly.

By some chance, she turned to the channel that showed the nightly drawing. She tossed the remote onto the couch as she rose.

"One moment," she called to the bathroom. "I need to use the WC." (1)

I pulled out my ticket. I had no expectations. The fridge clunked open then closed. Pen-Pen plunked down on my right carrying a bottle of the imported hops. He dug into the abandoned chips. A towel-clad Misato plopped on my left with another green bottle. Three of the numbers had come up. They were two of three of Misato's measurements. Six, six, and one soon followed. My heart thumped. Twenty-six. Five of six wasn't bad.

"Meh," the woman said in disgust.

"You don't have your ticket, how do you know your number?" I asked.

"I always play the same number," she replied. She looked down at my ticket. "How do you know my sizes?" she asked.

"Laundry," I answered.

"I suppose that answers it," Misato said and headed back into the vacated bathroom with her beer. "Lucky little bastard," she whispered under her breath, though not unkindly.

I hastily tucked my ticket into my pocket as Asuka reclaimed her place. She snagged the remote from my hand and the taro chips from Pen-Pen. He squawked indignantly. She might have still been a bit moody from the other day; it might have still been the aborted kiss and letter thing. It was hard to tell with her.

I went to my room to use my laptop. The government site was up. I followed a few links and found that the pay-off was 70,000 yen after I factored in two-thirds income tax. It's been said that Americans fork over less than half of their take in tax, but I'm not THAT gullible.

"Soooo faithful," Asuka chided from open the door. "If you don't watch out, you'll become another honors student."

"Just checking on something," I said. "Want to come in?"
"Why would I want to do that?" she asked as she stepped into my closet. She chugged a can of cola.

"Hey, Asuka," I said. An idea flashed into my head.

"What?"

"We've got Saturday off, next week. No school, no NERV."
"Duh. News flash."
"Do you want to eat out? My treat."

"Do I get to pick where?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"How about a little Italian place, Guido's. It has the best tiramisu."

"Alright, then."
"Why are you being so nice?" Asuka asked suddenly, a little suspicious.

"Think of it as a peace offering," I answered. It was the truth.

"I'll buy that," she said as she backed out of my closet.

And so I set myself up for a downfall.

Footnotes

(1) The shower and water closet can "clearly hear each other". Those are Asuka's words. She made a big stink about it until she was able to convince us to clear out of the one whenever she used the other. When I'm in the shower, Misato uses the can whenever she wants. I can't imagine myself stopping her. She told me that I could do the same, but that just seems wrong, somehow.