What I said about Ayanami Rei might not have been fair. It made her sound like she was in second place. I don't feel like that about her. Lately, I've felt more comfortable around her. I was really grateful when she asked me how I was. She really meant the question. We should do tea together again, sometime.

One Weekend

4. Spies Unlike Us

I vaguely remembered paying. I nearly left without the jinxed little packet, until the waitress handed it to me. She blushed when she realized what it was. I exited in a daze. I heard a man call out behind me. The large bearded man came out of Guido's with his hand raised. He wore a loud powder blue suit. An old woman ran into him and dumped a milk shake all over him. The granny began apologizing profusely.

At the same time, someone grabbed me around my shoulder. I've been a regular plush bear recently. The grabber was a twenty-plus year old man with a chiseled face and body to match his bronzed tan. I was about to protest until I felt a hard object on my shoulder; it was strapped to his side, underneath his blazer. I've seen too many ID 2 agents to not know that it was a semi. (3) Though the day wasn't hot and I had been doused with ice water, I was glad that I hadn't skimped on antiperspirant.

"Hey, buddy," he announced jovially as he steered me toward an escalator. "Been looking all over for ya.

"Play along," he whispered to me.
"Yeah, good to see you, too," I emoted. "Sorry, lost track of the time."

"Listen," he said under his breath. He glanced around. The agent let go of me, though he still stood too close. We walked onto the next flight of moving steps. "You've been tailed. Go across the street. There's a little park with a dry fountain in the middle. There'll be another ID 2 agent there, called Baby Face."

"Baby Face?" I asked.

"You'll see what I mean," he said. "Go up and greet BF. BF'll pretend not to know you at first. Mention your name. Once our guy 'recognizes you', follow BF's instructions. Capice?"

"Yeah."

This agent was enjoying himself a little too much.
"We'll split up, now. Head to the front exit," he concluded in a low breath. "Good to see ya again," he said aloud, then walked off the escalator at the second floor.

I continued to the front of the building. I was damp and wet, but I exited the building without attracting much attention. There were few pedestrians. The lights were on the blink, so I glanced both ways and crossed the light traffic.

I had seen backyards that were larger than the park. It was more of a green waiting room for the public WCs. (4) Could that be BF? A girl sat on the concrete bench close to a stone cherubim. The chubby angel held an dry jug over an empty fountain. I took the opportunity to wring out my shirt while I studied the figure. She looked like a junior in high school. Her back was turned to me. She chanted a single word over and over.

"Shinj shinji shinji shinji shinji shinji..." she said. "Where could you be?"

I stepped around the bench. "Hi," I said mustering my best smile. I had to pretend to know her.
"Yes?" she said. The girl looked to be sixteen at most. She was thin, flat-chested, and roughly my height. Her long hair was pushed back by a plastic hair band. Her denim jacket and brown skirt were simple, and her boxy shoes were scuffed. Her full and dark eyes belonged more to a nocturnal animal than a person.

BF would deny knowing me, the other agent said. I glanced around. "Don't you remember me?" I asked. "I'm Shinji."

"Oh," she said with her eyes widening. "Sit down. How have you been? Why are you wet? Have you been drinking out of the toilet again?" she asked sternly.

I sat down cautiously, especially after the last question. I answered in a low voice. "Well, I'm being followed. I don't want to say how I got wet, but it wasn't from drinking from a toilet."
"Okay," she said happily. "Well if you're being followed, then we'll just have to become Quiet, just like we used to. I've gotten lots better at it, though. Take off your shirt and give me your jacket."

BF pulled off her denim jacket and handed it to me. She pulled a handbag from beside her far leg. It was the size of a throw pillow and woven from cords, red and blue intertwined around the edges and yellow in the middle. A button bearing the Nerv red fig leaf on black clipped to her bag. That cinched it for me. She pulled out a plastic bag, pushed the wet shirt into it, and then let the handbag consume it all. I pulled on her denim and she wore my jacket.

"There, perfect fit," she said. "Now stand."

I stood.
"Good boy," she said cheerily. "Now when I walk, match my step and mirror me."
She stood and took a step. I matched her stride.

"Not quite," she said. "Watch my shoulders and the top of my head and how my hips move. You can't match my hips since you're a male, but if you half-turn. Half-turn to me," she ordered.

I tried. We walked a few steps and fell into rhythm.

"Good boy," she repeated. Did she think I was a dog? "Now walk."

I took a step and then another. She smiled.

"That's it," BF said in an over-bright tone, which was usually reserved for children and the simpleminded. She faced forward and so did I, mirror-imaging as she had said. "Friends and lovers match each others' postures. Down to the last step," the young-looking woman continued.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yes. I've been watching people, so I'd know," she said.

We walked away from the the direction I had come.

"It's been a while, but it's been so much longer for you than for me. Can you remember my name?"

"Sorry, but I don't," I replied. I supposed that she was really into her role.
"It's to be expected. It's Ito Midori."

"It's a nice name."
"Thank you. I don't like it though," she answered. "Green, the color of envy.

"Shinji, I want you to know that I didn't abandon you, okay? I had to leave," Midori pleaded, looking very sad.

"I forgive you," I answered. It was the best thing that I could think of. This was a really strange agent. I wondered briefly if I had merely run into a drug-crazed high schooler, but it was too coincidental that she would be wearing a Nerv pin. She grabbed me by my arms before I could think further on it. Her momentum pulled us into capering circles; all the while, she happily sang the word "forgiveness" over and over.

We continued a half of a block like that before she stopped, and we walked normally again.

"Shinji?" she puffed, half out of air. "Let's go to Tokyo-2."

"Sure," I agreed breathlessly.

She paid for my ticket without giving me a chance to pull out my wallet and pulled me through the turnstile by my hand. I couldn't see how we were avoiding any enemy agents by being so conspicuous, but Ikari Shinji does not caper in the street with a strange girl. The railcar was half empty.

"Stand behind me," she ordered. "Put your hands on my shoulders. Stand closer to me."

I complied. I looked at her image in the glass as unfamiliar faces and white station slipped past. Her full eyes gazed out onto the speeding landscape. It was late afternoon. The ride took a little more than an hour.

"Once, an old man rubbed up against me, it was gross. But you're here now, Shinji."

She pulled an old-fashioned Walkman from her pocketbook and hung the headphones around her neck. She played it loudly enough for both of us to hear the moody fusion of electronic and traditional instruments. A woman sang in a language I could not understand; it might have been Celtic. It might not have been any language at all, but it was sad, and I told her so. She didn't answer but continued to stare out at the thick clouds and the occasional shaft of sunlight that managed to break through. Our reflections stared faintly back at us, but she looked right through them.

(3) I'm not a ballistics experts, but I've seen a few cop shows and hung around Ken the Great Otaku.

(4) WC = water closet or toilet or can as Misato affectionately calls it.