Misato threw the wilting flowers into the trash and poured the yellowing
water down the sink. Perhaps Shinji would not be very happy with her for
disposing of his flowers, but the blackening heads of the roses had already
begun to dip down, bending almost double, and Misato didn't think it was
good luck to keep dead flowers in Asuka's room. Cut roses never lived very
long, anyway—this bouquet had only been there for four days. Misato crudely
arranged the bouquet of spring blossoms she had purchased, making sure
flowers of the same color were not bunched together, then returned to
Asuka's room with the vase.
Four long, lonely days and four interminably dreadful nights had passed, and there had been little change from the redhead.
Shinji stayed by her side during the day, and when Misato got off from her job she'd come to take over for the night. Apparently Shinji would have had the better end of the deal had he not spent each night pacing and not sleeping. The result was that both were exhausted and felt years older.
As for Asuka, her physical injuries were healing nicely, although the doctors had decided to keep her in the hospital for at least another two weeks, assuring Misato and Shinji that once she woke up they would not need to be there every hour of the day. Both the doctors on her case had agreed that someone she knew ought to be there when she woke up. The tossing and turning had stopped for the most part, but it was an unspoken yet understood fact that she was still going through some heavy mental trauma.
Hazuki-san had quickly offered to drop everything to tend to Asuka, but her request was swiftly blocked. On the occasions that she did come in, Misato sat back and let her do whatever was needed. They had not spoken to each other since Misato's first visit after the accident.
Misato walked to the window on the other side of Asuka's bed and threw open the curtains. The last few rays of sunlight danced into the room, illuminating Asuka's unresponsive face. She placed both elbows on the window and leaned out, remembering the old days in her old apartment. So many times she, Shinji, Asuka, and Pen-pen had sat out on the balcony and watched the sun dip down below the skyline of Tokyo-3.
Speaking of Pen-pen, she wondered where he'd gone. These days she let him wander around the forest, always leaving a window or small door open for him should he decide to return. The children around her neighborhood would recognize him from a mile away—Pen-pen was nothing short of a celebrity in their eyes. Surprisingly he didn't mind all the rough play and dirty hands that came up to ruffle his feathers. Vaguely Misato remembered recently wiping up muddy penguin prints on the floor—or was that Shinji? But other than that, she hadn't seen her precious penguin in several days. A tear fell from one eye as she looked at the unconscious Asuka and thought of how much she would love to have Pen-pen to hold in her arms now. Even if he was covered from raspberry jelly from somebody's lunch.
The sun had gone down in the time she'd spent pondering over Pen-pen, leaving the room a dismal bluish-gray. Misato sighed and returned to her chair.
Another long night had begun.
= = = = = = =
"Shinji-kun!"
Shinji had barely stepped outside when the call came, and he looked up to see Kimie leading a group of little kids. His heart sank.
"What happened to Asuka-san?" Kimie came right up to the back doorstep, her eyes focused intently on Shinji's face.
"We saw the flashing lights from the road," another child added. "Was she in a car crash?"
"Yes," Shinji replied bluntly.
"Is she all right?!"
Shinji sat down, so that he was roughly the height of some of the younger children. "She's alive," he said quietly, but that did little to relieve the fears of the children. "She's in the hospital now. We don't know when she'll be able to come home. Misato-san's with her now."
Several of the younger kids burst into tears. Kimie held them close, one by one, quieting their sobs. Shinji watched in amazement. This girl was a regular Hikari Horaki—perhaps even more talented. An awkward silence followed, punctuated only by the sporadic sobs of children. In the end, Kimie stood up and chauffeured them home, promising to return if Shinji didn't find her presence bothersome.
"No, please do come," Shinji insisted. Anything to keep him from wallowing in fear and guilt.
She returned promptly less than ten minutes later and sat down beside him. Shinji was unsure what he ought to say—could he tell her about all of Asuka's past troubles? Would Asuka want him to do that? Even if she did, this girl was sixteen years younger than him, and he wasn't sure if he would feel comfortable telling her. Kimie, however, solved that problem for him by starting the conversation.
"I don't think Asuka-san would want for you to be this upset, Shinji-kun," she said quietly.
"Why?" Instead of calming him, all the fear, guilt, and anger poured out of the bottle in his heart. "It's my fault she was hit! My fault that I let her escape! MY fault that she's lying in that hospital now! If I had stopped her, Misato wouldn't be exhausted and spending every night by her side! The kids wouldn't be upset and crying!"
Kimie let the rage run itself out before speaking again.
"She was upset," she recalled, more for Shinji's benefit than herself, "and I believe I was the one who told you to leave her alone."
Shinji nodded in response. Kimie's thoughtful features softened.
"She was afraid of you in a way," she continued. "You have to realize that she was slowly digging up parts of her past, and as much as she wanted to know what happened, every piece of information was a threat that it would be—something that she didn't really want to know and would have been better hidden away. I'm sorry," she apologized, suddenly flustered. "I don't know how to word it in a better way."
But Shinji was already visibly calming, so she continued.
"Even the fact that you were a boy worried her somewhat. She said that after waking up from her coma she had had no contact with any boys. And since you knew her in the past—especially after she had made fun of you and hit you many times, perhaps more than she could remember—it was very hard for her to talk to you at all."
Shinji looked at Kimie, surprised. Yes, Asuka had changed; she wasn't flying at him in a rage or yelling at him to cook breakfast anymore; instead she was quiet and shy. He hadn't realized how much guilt she felt for the past, however.
"She would never want to hurt you, Shinji-kun. She wouldn't want you to feel this way. She's not a mean person like that."
Shinji nodded. The few last thoughts were something to ponder.
After a pause, Kimie added, "I'm sorry for intruding in your life."
"No, no," Shinji insisted. Honestly, "The last few days have been really hard for Misato-san and myself. We're very lucky to have someone as understanding as you."
Kimie smiled. "I'd better be getting home now. Makoto has probably gotten himself into trouble."
Shinji nodded and thanked her, watching the heels of her worn shoes sink into the wet ground with each step. Only when she was out of sight did Shinji realized that she had not asked about Asuka's past, or why she had been so upset that night.
Indeed, Misato and Asuka were lucky to have her nearby.
= = = = = = =
Early morning meant sun. It meant the gentle hum of engines whirring to life on the streets. And for Misato, it meant another day of work after a practically sleepless night.
Shinji arrived perfectly on time to take over, looking more rested and alert than he had been in days. Misato was envious.
They hardly spoke—the usual conversation asking about any changes had grown old. The basic line was that there were none.
Shinji took Misato's seat by Asuka's bed. Something brushed his hair, and he turned to see that his wilting flowers had been replaced by a cheerful bouquet of pink, yellow, and purple spring blossoms. Presumably the work was Misato's, since the flowers on one side of the vase were distinctly taller than those on the other.
He returned his attention to Asuka, who didn't seem any livelier than the day before. However, her tossing and turning had stopped, and for that he was grateful. He closed his eyes and thought of Kimie's words.
He wondered what Hikari would have said, if she could see her old friend in this state.
Shinji shrugged and returned his glance to Asuka's limp body. Her finger twitched, but that didn't concern him—it had happened plenty of times before, usually followed by some involuntary tossing and turning.
But then her hand was moving, as if grasping for something she couldn't see. Shinji stood up, wondering if he should call for a nurse. Then, miraculously—her eyes opened—and they were no longer bright and glassy, but the sapphire blue eyes he remembered.
"Asuka!"
= = = = = = =
Shinji?
What is he doing here?
Where am I?
I know where I am. I remember this ceiling, this room, this bed.
He knows who I am.
He knows more about me than I know.
He knows.
Don't make me remember...
= = = = = = =
"Go away."
And with that she turned away and pulled the blanket over her head, her muffled sobs clearly audible. Shinji was left blinking in shock and hurt, hoping desperately that he had misheard, but her current behavior was enough to tell him that he hadn't.
Surely she'll come out in a minute, he thought. He knew from experience that under a blanket was not a good place to hide.
But she didn't.
= = = = = = =
Asuka was confused and angry—both at Shinji and at herself. She knew she shouldn't have lashed out at him, but for now she couldn't bear to see anyone that would remind her of who she had been. Shinji knew her past, both in Japan and Germany. She couldn't look at him without remembering how she had hurt him. She was embarrassed of that, and even more embarrassed of what had happened between her and Kaji. Not only that, but slowly she was beginning to remember what had happened in the last twelve miserable years since she'd left Shinji and Misato
She couldn't breathe, but surely suffocating a bit was better than having to face Shinji. Her salty tears soaked the fabric around her as she sobbed and whimpered brokenly, hating herself for doing so and for not having the bravery to face the truth. Once again she came back to admiring Shinji for becoming who he had become.
It's all a cycle, she thought miserably. I admire him, I hate myself, and I become embarrassed of myself.
She heard mingling voices, just barely audible, and wondered who was speaking, although she didn't look. A moment later, she could hear Shinji clearly, muttering in a broken voice.
"I don't know what to do."
The lack of air was suffocating her, the underside of the blanket becoming hot and itchy against her skin. Defeated, Asuka emerged, but remained facing away from him despite his pleading words. Eventually she drifted off to asleep.
She awoke some time later to a tender, feminine voice calling her name. Instinctively Asuka reached for the blanket, intending to pull it over her head again, but something about the voice was enchanting, alluring. Since there was no chance of going back to sleep, Asuka turned herself over, groaning at the pain and exhaustion that still plagued her body.
"Kimie!"
For a moment the ten-year-old was silent, and Asuka realized she must look terrible, having not brushed her teeth or hair in nearly a week, not to mention the various casts and bandages that covered her body.
Asuka asked, "Where's Shinji?"
"I sent him home," the girl replied authoritatively. "He looked like he was in terrible shape."
The guilt came rushing back.
It's my fault for speaking to him like that, after he's probably been sitting here all day.
Kimie stood up and helped to prop her up with some pillows, so that she looked more comfortably rested despite her low spirits.
"How're you feeling?" she asked quietly.
Asuka paused. "Well, everything hurts," she said, trying for a bit of humor and failing miserably. "Although I feel much worse about hurting Shinji."
Silence.
"He told you, didn't he?"
"Told me what?"
"Everything." The tears came then, streaming down her face in rivers, as much as she wanted them to stop. "How I used to abuse him, how my mother died, what I did with—"
"Stop it." The words were soft, yet firm. Kimie took Asuka's hands in her own and waited for Asuka to cry herself out. "He didn't tell me anything, Asuka-san."
How grateful she felt as she absorbed the words.
Makoto interrupted the scene by coming up and rudely pushing Kimie aside. "Asuka-san, I brought you some flowers."
As the redhead managed a smile through her tears and thanked him, the understanding expression on Kimie's face faded slowly into one of suspicion. "Wait..." Three confused faces looked up at her. "Makoto! You picked those flowers out of Misato-san's garden, didn't you?"
There was an uncomfortable pause in which Makoto attempted futilely to look innocent.
"I did!" he burst out, and would have begun crying had Asuka quickly not quieted him.
"They're lovely, Makoto," she complimented him, smoothing back the muddy roots that jutted out from each stem. "And thank you for saving them. I'm sure that Misato would have run them over trying to drive if you hadn't brought them to me."
The young boy's face brightened. "We got to play with Pen-pen yesterday," he explained proudly. "We played blocks, and he was the big bad monster that knocked down our castle."
Kimie winced as she imagined the horrible treatment Pen-pen must have suffered while playing his part. When she opened her eyes again, Makoto was in front of her, and somehow Asuka's hand had transferred from hers to his.
"Asuka-san," he begged, his eyes pleading with her, "please, please, please come home to us?"
Pause.
"Yes," Asuka said, "I will."
Author's Note: Short chapter... and I realized one very stupid mistake I made: In chapter 4 Misato thinks about the nights she spends sitting outside with Pen-pen...and I haven't mentioned him since! Sorry about that...
Anyway, drop me a review and tell me what you think.
Four long, lonely days and four interminably dreadful nights had passed, and there had been little change from the redhead.
Shinji stayed by her side during the day, and when Misato got off from her job she'd come to take over for the night. Apparently Shinji would have had the better end of the deal had he not spent each night pacing and not sleeping. The result was that both were exhausted and felt years older.
As for Asuka, her physical injuries were healing nicely, although the doctors had decided to keep her in the hospital for at least another two weeks, assuring Misato and Shinji that once she woke up they would not need to be there every hour of the day. Both the doctors on her case had agreed that someone she knew ought to be there when she woke up. The tossing and turning had stopped for the most part, but it was an unspoken yet understood fact that she was still going through some heavy mental trauma.
Hazuki-san had quickly offered to drop everything to tend to Asuka, but her request was swiftly blocked. On the occasions that she did come in, Misato sat back and let her do whatever was needed. They had not spoken to each other since Misato's first visit after the accident.
Misato walked to the window on the other side of Asuka's bed and threw open the curtains. The last few rays of sunlight danced into the room, illuminating Asuka's unresponsive face. She placed both elbows on the window and leaned out, remembering the old days in her old apartment. So many times she, Shinji, Asuka, and Pen-pen had sat out on the balcony and watched the sun dip down below the skyline of Tokyo-3.
Speaking of Pen-pen, she wondered where he'd gone. These days she let him wander around the forest, always leaving a window or small door open for him should he decide to return. The children around her neighborhood would recognize him from a mile away—Pen-pen was nothing short of a celebrity in their eyes. Surprisingly he didn't mind all the rough play and dirty hands that came up to ruffle his feathers. Vaguely Misato remembered recently wiping up muddy penguin prints on the floor—or was that Shinji? But other than that, she hadn't seen her precious penguin in several days. A tear fell from one eye as she looked at the unconscious Asuka and thought of how much she would love to have Pen-pen to hold in her arms now. Even if he was covered from raspberry jelly from somebody's lunch.
The sun had gone down in the time she'd spent pondering over Pen-pen, leaving the room a dismal bluish-gray. Misato sighed and returned to her chair.
Another long night had begun.
= = = = = = =
"Shinji-kun!"
Shinji had barely stepped outside when the call came, and he looked up to see Kimie leading a group of little kids. His heart sank.
"What happened to Asuka-san?" Kimie came right up to the back doorstep, her eyes focused intently on Shinji's face.
"We saw the flashing lights from the road," another child added. "Was she in a car crash?"
"Yes," Shinji replied bluntly.
"Is she all right?!"
Shinji sat down, so that he was roughly the height of some of the younger children. "She's alive," he said quietly, but that did little to relieve the fears of the children. "She's in the hospital now. We don't know when she'll be able to come home. Misato-san's with her now."
Several of the younger kids burst into tears. Kimie held them close, one by one, quieting their sobs. Shinji watched in amazement. This girl was a regular Hikari Horaki—perhaps even more talented. An awkward silence followed, punctuated only by the sporadic sobs of children. In the end, Kimie stood up and chauffeured them home, promising to return if Shinji didn't find her presence bothersome.
"No, please do come," Shinji insisted. Anything to keep him from wallowing in fear and guilt.
She returned promptly less than ten minutes later and sat down beside him. Shinji was unsure what he ought to say—could he tell her about all of Asuka's past troubles? Would Asuka want him to do that? Even if she did, this girl was sixteen years younger than him, and he wasn't sure if he would feel comfortable telling her. Kimie, however, solved that problem for him by starting the conversation.
"I don't think Asuka-san would want for you to be this upset, Shinji-kun," she said quietly.
"Why?" Instead of calming him, all the fear, guilt, and anger poured out of the bottle in his heart. "It's my fault she was hit! My fault that I let her escape! MY fault that she's lying in that hospital now! If I had stopped her, Misato wouldn't be exhausted and spending every night by her side! The kids wouldn't be upset and crying!"
Kimie let the rage run itself out before speaking again.
"She was upset," she recalled, more for Shinji's benefit than herself, "and I believe I was the one who told you to leave her alone."
Shinji nodded in response. Kimie's thoughtful features softened.
"She was afraid of you in a way," she continued. "You have to realize that she was slowly digging up parts of her past, and as much as she wanted to know what happened, every piece of information was a threat that it would be—something that she didn't really want to know and would have been better hidden away. I'm sorry," she apologized, suddenly flustered. "I don't know how to word it in a better way."
But Shinji was already visibly calming, so she continued.
"Even the fact that you were a boy worried her somewhat. She said that after waking up from her coma she had had no contact with any boys. And since you knew her in the past—especially after she had made fun of you and hit you many times, perhaps more than she could remember—it was very hard for her to talk to you at all."
Shinji looked at Kimie, surprised. Yes, Asuka had changed; she wasn't flying at him in a rage or yelling at him to cook breakfast anymore; instead she was quiet and shy. He hadn't realized how much guilt she felt for the past, however.
"She would never want to hurt you, Shinji-kun. She wouldn't want you to feel this way. She's not a mean person like that."
Shinji nodded. The few last thoughts were something to ponder.
After a pause, Kimie added, "I'm sorry for intruding in your life."
"No, no," Shinji insisted. Honestly, "The last few days have been really hard for Misato-san and myself. We're very lucky to have someone as understanding as you."
Kimie smiled. "I'd better be getting home now. Makoto has probably gotten himself into trouble."
Shinji nodded and thanked her, watching the heels of her worn shoes sink into the wet ground with each step. Only when she was out of sight did Shinji realized that she had not asked about Asuka's past, or why she had been so upset that night.
Indeed, Misato and Asuka were lucky to have her nearby.
= = = = = = =
Early morning meant sun. It meant the gentle hum of engines whirring to life on the streets. And for Misato, it meant another day of work after a practically sleepless night.
Shinji arrived perfectly on time to take over, looking more rested and alert than he had been in days. Misato was envious.
They hardly spoke—the usual conversation asking about any changes had grown old. The basic line was that there were none.
Shinji took Misato's seat by Asuka's bed. Something brushed his hair, and he turned to see that his wilting flowers had been replaced by a cheerful bouquet of pink, yellow, and purple spring blossoms. Presumably the work was Misato's, since the flowers on one side of the vase were distinctly taller than those on the other.
He returned his attention to Asuka, who didn't seem any livelier than the day before. However, her tossing and turning had stopped, and for that he was grateful. He closed his eyes and thought of Kimie's words.
He wondered what Hikari would have said, if she could see her old friend in this state.
Shinji shrugged and returned his glance to Asuka's limp body. Her finger twitched, but that didn't concern him—it had happened plenty of times before, usually followed by some involuntary tossing and turning.
But then her hand was moving, as if grasping for something she couldn't see. Shinji stood up, wondering if he should call for a nurse. Then, miraculously—her eyes opened—and they were no longer bright and glassy, but the sapphire blue eyes he remembered.
"Asuka!"
= = = = = = =
Shinji?
What is he doing here?
Where am I?
I know where I am. I remember this ceiling, this room, this bed.
He knows who I am.
He knows more about me than I know.
He knows.
Don't make me remember...
= = = = = = =
"Go away."
And with that she turned away and pulled the blanket over her head, her muffled sobs clearly audible. Shinji was left blinking in shock and hurt, hoping desperately that he had misheard, but her current behavior was enough to tell him that he hadn't.
Surely she'll come out in a minute, he thought. He knew from experience that under a blanket was not a good place to hide.
But she didn't.
= = = = = = =
Asuka was confused and angry—both at Shinji and at herself. She knew she shouldn't have lashed out at him, but for now she couldn't bear to see anyone that would remind her of who she had been. Shinji knew her past, both in Japan and Germany. She couldn't look at him without remembering how she had hurt him. She was embarrassed of that, and even more embarrassed of what had happened between her and Kaji. Not only that, but slowly she was beginning to remember what had happened in the last twelve miserable years since she'd left Shinji and Misato
She couldn't breathe, but surely suffocating a bit was better than having to face Shinji. Her salty tears soaked the fabric around her as she sobbed and whimpered brokenly, hating herself for doing so and for not having the bravery to face the truth. Once again she came back to admiring Shinji for becoming who he had become.
It's all a cycle, she thought miserably. I admire him, I hate myself, and I become embarrassed of myself.
She heard mingling voices, just barely audible, and wondered who was speaking, although she didn't look. A moment later, she could hear Shinji clearly, muttering in a broken voice.
"I don't know what to do."
The lack of air was suffocating her, the underside of the blanket becoming hot and itchy against her skin. Defeated, Asuka emerged, but remained facing away from him despite his pleading words. Eventually she drifted off to asleep.
She awoke some time later to a tender, feminine voice calling her name. Instinctively Asuka reached for the blanket, intending to pull it over her head again, but something about the voice was enchanting, alluring. Since there was no chance of going back to sleep, Asuka turned herself over, groaning at the pain and exhaustion that still plagued her body.
"Kimie!"
For a moment the ten-year-old was silent, and Asuka realized she must look terrible, having not brushed her teeth or hair in nearly a week, not to mention the various casts and bandages that covered her body.
Asuka asked, "Where's Shinji?"
"I sent him home," the girl replied authoritatively. "He looked like he was in terrible shape."
The guilt came rushing back.
It's my fault for speaking to him like that, after he's probably been sitting here all day.
Kimie stood up and helped to prop her up with some pillows, so that she looked more comfortably rested despite her low spirits.
"How're you feeling?" she asked quietly.
Asuka paused. "Well, everything hurts," she said, trying for a bit of humor and failing miserably. "Although I feel much worse about hurting Shinji."
Silence.
"He told you, didn't he?"
"Told me what?"
"Everything." The tears came then, streaming down her face in rivers, as much as she wanted them to stop. "How I used to abuse him, how my mother died, what I did with—"
"Stop it." The words were soft, yet firm. Kimie took Asuka's hands in her own and waited for Asuka to cry herself out. "He didn't tell me anything, Asuka-san."
How grateful she felt as she absorbed the words.
Makoto interrupted the scene by coming up and rudely pushing Kimie aside. "Asuka-san, I brought you some flowers."
As the redhead managed a smile through her tears and thanked him, the understanding expression on Kimie's face faded slowly into one of suspicion. "Wait..." Three confused faces looked up at her. "Makoto! You picked those flowers out of Misato-san's garden, didn't you?"
There was an uncomfortable pause in which Makoto attempted futilely to look innocent.
"I did!" he burst out, and would have begun crying had Asuka quickly not quieted him.
"They're lovely, Makoto," she complimented him, smoothing back the muddy roots that jutted out from each stem. "And thank you for saving them. I'm sure that Misato would have run them over trying to drive if you hadn't brought them to me."
The young boy's face brightened. "We got to play with Pen-pen yesterday," he explained proudly. "We played blocks, and he was the big bad monster that knocked down our castle."
Kimie winced as she imagined the horrible treatment Pen-pen must have suffered while playing his part. When she opened her eyes again, Makoto was in front of her, and somehow Asuka's hand had transferred from hers to his.
"Asuka-san," he begged, his eyes pleading with her, "please, please, please come home to us?"
Pause.
"Yes," Asuka said, "I will."
Author's Note: Short chapter... and I realized one very stupid mistake I made: In chapter 4 Misato thinks about the nights she spends sitting outside with Pen-pen...and I haven't mentioned him since! Sorry about that...
Anyway, drop me a review and tell me what you think.