"Don't you have to go back to work soon?"
Misato flashed a grin. "Luckily for me, Ritsuko, my hours are much more flexible than yours. Besides, it's much too lonely without Asuka around."
The blonde sighed and picked up her bag. "All right then...have fun." She stepped into her high heels and wriggled her toes. "Don't get too rowdy."
"Jeez, Ritsuko... loosen up!"
The doctor rolled her eyes and left.
I could almost imagine we were back in college, if only... Misato shook her head and twisted the doorknob to make sure it was locked, even as the clicks of Ritsuko's heels disappeared down the stairs.
She'd been here for three days now, taking over Ritsuko's house. Despite the blonde's cool exterior, she sensed that her old friend enjoyed her company; they had sat up taking late into the nights and eating watermelon ice cream (Misato reminded herself to tell Asuka not to bring anymore home, as she was thoroughly sick of it.) Monday and Tuesday had been relatively conservative days in which Ritsuko went to work and Misato cooked and cleaned. Despite the doctor's preference for sanitation, lack of sleep had won over, and her cleaning habits had promptly gone out the window.
But Misato was tired of vinegar and detergent, and today she intended to have some fun.
She had not visited downtown Kyoto in years. In May of 2010 she had been dispatched to tour a small facility there; the plan had been to construct certain Evangelion parts there, but for reasons unknown to her, Commander Ikari and Vice Commander Fuyutsuki had denied it. That day had been rainy and humid, and Misato remembered little of the actual city—not that it would have mattered, since Kyoto had undergone mass infrastructure changes since then.
Having never returned Ritsuko's key, Misato used it to lock the door after she exited. She wore high heels similar to Ritsuko's, and a stylish navy blue skirt complimented by a matching summery shirt. The hair she left down, feeling that the less white hairs showed, the better. Perhaps it was time to try dyeing it—surely Ritsuko would have some advice in that direction.
Misato opened the last door and a wave of sunlight streamed into the dark apartment. The soundproof door had blocked nearly all of the noise generated from traffic and children, and Misato was suddenly very eager to become a part of it.
She walked, leaving her car in the parking lot, swinging her small handbag with her left hand. It was made of plastic, in a pattern of that consisted of two vertical pink stripes and one white one between them. The bag was barely large enough to fit a handgun in it, and that was how Misato liked it. The only things she carried within it were her money and a small compact mirror. She drew up to a small outdoor café and sat down, ordering a cup of tea. In her younger days, college, perhaps, she would have gone out drinking late into the night with Kaji and Ritsuko, who always attempted to maintain a firm stance on her refusal to drink but eventually giving in.
"Hey."
Misato turned, but didn't need to—the guy slid directly into the seat across from her. She was slightly taken aback at first, but relaxed into a smile. She was here to have fun, after all.
"Hey yourself."
The guy chuckled and waved his hand at the waiter, ordering another cup of tea. Misato tossed her hair back in what she hoped was a confident way. She wasn't sure of herself anymore—she had come out of Ritsuko's drab little room to enjoy herself, but damn—she was forty-one years old already, and flirting didn't come so easily to her. Nor was it any fun, now that she had "grown up". Misato was disappointed.
But she didn't feel comfortable telling him to leave, either, so she did neither.
He was watching her closely, which made her all the more uneasy. "What's your name?"
Pause.
"Misato."
"Misato huh?" He spoke with a faint accent that suggested he wasn't native to neither Tokyo nor Kyoto. "How would you like to come over tonight?" His arm was snaking around her slender waist, and Misato was surprised to discover that she was quivering from not fright, but anger.
"GET OFF OF ME!"
And to the shock of the entire café, she promptly delivered a punch to his face that knocked him off his chair and followed it up with a kick. The metal chair was up over her head and would shortly have landed on top of the poor man had someone not taken a firm hold of her right arm.
"Hey." For the second time, Misato turned. This time, however, she was staring directly at a police badge. "Put that chair down."
Slowly she obeyed, not taking her eyes off of his stern face.
The officer's eyes strayed to the man writhing on the ground. "Are you all right?"
He got to his feet, glaring at Misato, and began spewing out curses. The officer rolled his eyes in aggravation, handcuffed both of them, and led them to his car. Behind them, the shushed chatter started up again.
Misato glanced at her watch, twisting her head around to do so. It was only 9:00 AM. She sighed. This was going to be a long day.
= = = = = = =
"Shinji? Is that you?"
He heard her voice and panicked, found the nearest cupboard, and shoved his purchases on top of whatever was inside. "Asuka?"
She fumbled for a light switch, found it, and lit the room. "I thought you went to bed."
"I did. I... left something at the office and had to drive back for it."
"Oh." Asuka yawned. Shinji sighed mentally, relieved that she'd bought his excuse. "Sorry... I'm going back to bed now."
"Don't worry, you can sleep in as late as you can tomorrow," he assured her. "Whenever you wake up we can go swimsuit shopping and then we'll go to the beach."
Asuka nodded, too tired to argue.
When she had disappeared back into her room and her footsteps had ceased, Shinji reached into the cupboard and pulled out the bags. From them he removed one brand new ice cream maker and several cartons of fresh strawberries. Shinji left the ice cream maker on the counter and rummaged around the refrigerator, trying to find room for the strawberries.
= = = = = = =
"You can't put me in jail!"
"Until we get this cleared up, we are. And believe me, lady, I'm not enjoying this any more than you are." The door slid shut and the guard walked away, muttering under his breath.
Misato was tempted to shout after him, but decided not to—she really didn't want to stay here any longer than she had to. Her gaze shifted slowly to the other inmates, fortunately all of whom were female. She looked down at her hands, which were now free.
The former Major avoided looking at her fellow inmates, four of them in all, shivering to think what Ikari Gendo would say if he saw her now. Damn it, if only they hadn't taken my cell phone... I could call Ritsuko, or maybe even Asuka...
"Hey." For the third (and she hoped last) time, Misato turned in response to the same greeting. One of the women lifted her chin in her direction. "So, what have you done?"
"I...well... beat up a guy," she admitted.
This drew an admiring sound from the rest of the women, all of whom quickly insisted that Misato tell them the full story. Rather reluctantly she did, preferring that they hear the story from her lips than from one of the jailers. She wondered what had happened to the guy who had been arrested with her, but decided she didn't care.
"Tough girl," commented another woman, making a clucking sound in the back of her throat. Misato glanced at her and edged away—she was beginning to feel some fear despite their admiration for her; this particular inmate had long dark hair sticking in all directions, some matted down across her shoulders and throat. Much to Misato's horror, she laughed and pulled her closer with a long bony arm. "Come now, don't be shy."
Misato would have liked nothing more than to squirm away; the unoccupied corner of the metal bench looked like a haven to her.
I need a phone...I need to call Ritsuko!
She glanced through the sturdy metal bars that made up the door. They were on the second floor, in what she expected was a temporary holding room—none of them yet had been made to change into the white shirt and orange pants that all prisoners were required to wear. Misato thought of Ritsuko's advice and groaned; most likely the doctor wouldn't be at all surprised to find the apartment empty and wouldn't send out a search party even if she didn't come home for three days.
Misato looked at her watch again and rubbed the sore parts of her wrist where the metal of the handcuffs had dug deep into the skin. It was now 10:30 AM.
Thankfully the woman chose to release her. "She's getting bored. Tell her what you did." The command was followed by another nod.
Thus began a long tirade of stories about how each of them had managed to land herself in jail, ranging from excessive speeding to shoplifting. Misato didn't find any of them particularly amusing and had to exercise extreme self-control to keep herself from glancing at her watch constantly. It was 10:34. She had to know...
"Hey," she ventured cautiously, "when you came in here, did they let you made any phone calls?"
The long-haired woman snorted. "Haven't got anyone to call."
"Me neither," another replied.
Damn.
Misato slouched down low and crossed her arms and legs.
So much for a fun day.
= = = = = = =
Ritsuko was feeling very jealous of Misato at the moment. She had been called into her employer's office and given a full lecture on being ten minutes late—the morning fog and rush hour had made no difference whatsoever; if anything, it had lengthened the lecture. Next, one of her colleagues had come rushing into her room in a near panic, unable to find the blueprints desired by a client. Consequently, Ritsuko's entire morning had been spent poring over a mountain of manila folders and stray files. Back in the days of Nerv, this had been Misato's job, and Ritsuko had commonly teased her about it. Those words came back to haunt her now, as she pulled out yet another file.
Someone called out from her office, and Ritsuko recognized her as the one who had been panicked about blueprints—damn it, why isn't she here looking?—calling her.
"What is it?"
"Your phone's ringing."
"Well then, let it ring."
"...all right..."
She had been waiting, craving, yearning for the lunch break, but when that hour came her manager stopped in and coolly informed her that he was sending his secretary out to buy lunches for the entire staff and needed her order. Of course it wouldn't do to have a dismayed client, so she was to remain in the storage room, searching for that missing blueprint.
When lunch finally came, Ritsuko ripped off the plastic wrapping and tore hungrily into it, not tasting anything, and certainly not giving a thought to the flashing answering machine on her desk.
= = = = = = =
"Damn you, Ritsuko!"
However, Misato knew better than to slam the phone down on the receiver. She'd been waiting—what, three hours?—for her chance, and Ritsuko had to leave her office in that one precious moment.
She stole a glance at the fat guard in charge of the phone. He was busy talking with another stern-faced guard. Misato picked up the receiver again and quickly pressed the buttons that would—hopefully—somehow—get her out of here.
She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, waiting impatiently.
= = = = = = =
Asuka awoke briefly and groggily reached for the light. Had there been a faint ring, or was she imagining it? Asuka listened as intently as she could in her present state, decided she had been dreaming, and shut off the light. She pulled the covers over her head and went back to sleep.
= = = = = = =
"Hey." The voice she heard on the line was most certainly not Asuka's—it was most certainly male. "This call is being monitored—and you've already made more than your allotted number of calls."
Click.
Sadly Misato replaced the receiver and allowed the guard to lead her back to her cell, where the other four inmates were waiting eagerly for news.
"So? Who'd you call?"
"Are they coming to get you?"
"No," Misato muttered, ignoring the first question as she sank back into her own spot by the door. The metal bench was icy cold and hard.
"At least you had someone to call," one of them offered kindly.
Despairingly Misato looked into her face and was surprised to see a mixture of sympathy and sadness. "What happened to—to your—?"
She shrugged, not minding the purple-haired woman's directness. "All dead."
"I'm sorry," Misato quickly apologized.
"Doesn't matter. So, who'd you call?"
"My friend," she admitted quietly, knowing it would lead to a discussion about her parents. Misato steeled herself, knowing it wouldn't be easy to relive the memories of the Katsuragi expedition, of the quarrels between her mother and father, how he had died to save her...
= = = = = = =
"I think this one would look nice on you."
Shinji looked so funny holding up an orange bathing suit that Asuka had to laugh. "That would make me look like a huge fireball...!"
"Oh." Shinji replaced it on the rack. Asuka found a one-piece in several shades of blue, evidently designed to look like ripples or water. "How does this one look?"
"Go try it on," he urged.
Ten minutes later they left the store, Asuka carrying her suit in a small plastic bag. Shinji stopped en route to the beach to pick up another sack of oranges and several bottles of water. Much to his surprise (and delight), Asuka had found the ice cream maker and was already churning out fluffy pink ice cream garnished with chunks of real strawberries by the time he entered the kitchen that morning. The dessert had been packaged and now lay in a cooler at Asuka's feet.
Asuka glanced at the clock—it was nearly noon. She suggested that they eat lunch on the sand first, then go into the water; Shinji liked this idea and parked quickly by the side of the road. From the front of the car Asuka pulled out the cooler containing their lunches and ice cream, and from the back Shinji removed their towels, beach chairs, and an enormous rainbow- colored umbrella.
The redhead squealed when she first stepped onto the sand, feeling it give way under her feet. Shinji laughed and kicked off his sandals. Asuka followed his example and half-hopped, half-skipped down to the edge of the water, yelping at the burning sensation on the soles of her feet. Shinji set up the umbrella and spread out their beach towels in the shade.
By then Asuka had changed her mind, and was running full speed into the ocean waves while Shinji sat lazily on the beach and ate his way through three sandwiches. Twenty minutes later she ran back up to him, dripping with seawater, clutching several large white shells in her hands.
Shinji laughed at her and pulled out the ice cream.
= = = = = = =
"Took you long enough, damn it."
"Oh shut up. I had to work all day and then come pick you up from jail. We're lucky you got off with just a fine."
"You sound like a guard yourself," Misato grumbled.
Ritsuko muttered something indistinguishable under her breath. In the dim moonlight, Misato couldn't see the dark circles under her friend's eyes—not that she chose to, either.
"I see you didn't take the advice I gave you this morning."
"Oh shut up."
Ritsuko snickered and increased pressure on the accelerator. Her car shot off into the distance, leaving the dreary jail far behind until it vanished from view.
Author's Notes: I decided this time to elaborate more on Misato, since I completely left her out of the last two chapters, and Shinji and Asuka are having a very relaxed day... not particularly a happy day for Misato, but an adventurous one, nevertheless. I'm not sure if I made this clear—due to the time changes, when it's night in Japan it's day in California—I'm not sure of the exact difference in times, so I've left it at twelve hours.
To Asuka201: I've taken a look at your translation—I can't read much Chinese, but it looks very nice! And thank you for adding my name and a link to this story, I'll be adding your translation to the first page of this story too.
Oh yeah, another trivia question: I mentioned that Misato's bag was small and barely large enough to fit a handgun in it, with two vertical pink stripes and one white one between the two. To which anime character does this bag actually belong?
Thanks guys for all your reviews!
Misato flashed a grin. "Luckily for me, Ritsuko, my hours are much more flexible than yours. Besides, it's much too lonely without Asuka around."
The blonde sighed and picked up her bag. "All right then...have fun." She stepped into her high heels and wriggled her toes. "Don't get too rowdy."
"Jeez, Ritsuko... loosen up!"
The doctor rolled her eyes and left.
I could almost imagine we were back in college, if only... Misato shook her head and twisted the doorknob to make sure it was locked, even as the clicks of Ritsuko's heels disappeared down the stairs.
She'd been here for three days now, taking over Ritsuko's house. Despite the blonde's cool exterior, she sensed that her old friend enjoyed her company; they had sat up taking late into the nights and eating watermelon ice cream (Misato reminded herself to tell Asuka not to bring anymore home, as she was thoroughly sick of it.) Monday and Tuesday had been relatively conservative days in which Ritsuko went to work and Misato cooked and cleaned. Despite the doctor's preference for sanitation, lack of sleep had won over, and her cleaning habits had promptly gone out the window.
But Misato was tired of vinegar and detergent, and today she intended to have some fun.
She had not visited downtown Kyoto in years. In May of 2010 she had been dispatched to tour a small facility there; the plan had been to construct certain Evangelion parts there, but for reasons unknown to her, Commander Ikari and Vice Commander Fuyutsuki had denied it. That day had been rainy and humid, and Misato remembered little of the actual city—not that it would have mattered, since Kyoto had undergone mass infrastructure changes since then.
Having never returned Ritsuko's key, Misato used it to lock the door after she exited. She wore high heels similar to Ritsuko's, and a stylish navy blue skirt complimented by a matching summery shirt. The hair she left down, feeling that the less white hairs showed, the better. Perhaps it was time to try dyeing it—surely Ritsuko would have some advice in that direction.
Misato opened the last door and a wave of sunlight streamed into the dark apartment. The soundproof door had blocked nearly all of the noise generated from traffic and children, and Misato was suddenly very eager to become a part of it.
She walked, leaving her car in the parking lot, swinging her small handbag with her left hand. It was made of plastic, in a pattern of that consisted of two vertical pink stripes and one white one between them. The bag was barely large enough to fit a handgun in it, and that was how Misato liked it. The only things she carried within it were her money and a small compact mirror. She drew up to a small outdoor café and sat down, ordering a cup of tea. In her younger days, college, perhaps, she would have gone out drinking late into the night with Kaji and Ritsuko, who always attempted to maintain a firm stance on her refusal to drink but eventually giving in.
"Hey."
Misato turned, but didn't need to—the guy slid directly into the seat across from her. She was slightly taken aback at first, but relaxed into a smile. She was here to have fun, after all.
"Hey yourself."
The guy chuckled and waved his hand at the waiter, ordering another cup of tea. Misato tossed her hair back in what she hoped was a confident way. She wasn't sure of herself anymore—she had come out of Ritsuko's drab little room to enjoy herself, but damn—she was forty-one years old already, and flirting didn't come so easily to her. Nor was it any fun, now that she had "grown up". Misato was disappointed.
But she didn't feel comfortable telling him to leave, either, so she did neither.
He was watching her closely, which made her all the more uneasy. "What's your name?"
Pause.
"Misato."
"Misato huh?" He spoke with a faint accent that suggested he wasn't native to neither Tokyo nor Kyoto. "How would you like to come over tonight?" His arm was snaking around her slender waist, and Misato was surprised to discover that she was quivering from not fright, but anger.
"GET OFF OF ME!"
And to the shock of the entire café, she promptly delivered a punch to his face that knocked him off his chair and followed it up with a kick. The metal chair was up over her head and would shortly have landed on top of the poor man had someone not taken a firm hold of her right arm.
"Hey." For the second time, Misato turned. This time, however, she was staring directly at a police badge. "Put that chair down."
Slowly she obeyed, not taking her eyes off of his stern face.
The officer's eyes strayed to the man writhing on the ground. "Are you all right?"
He got to his feet, glaring at Misato, and began spewing out curses. The officer rolled his eyes in aggravation, handcuffed both of them, and led them to his car. Behind them, the shushed chatter started up again.
Misato glanced at her watch, twisting her head around to do so. It was only 9:00 AM. She sighed. This was going to be a long day.
= = = = = = =
"Shinji? Is that you?"
He heard her voice and panicked, found the nearest cupboard, and shoved his purchases on top of whatever was inside. "Asuka?"
She fumbled for a light switch, found it, and lit the room. "I thought you went to bed."
"I did. I... left something at the office and had to drive back for it."
"Oh." Asuka yawned. Shinji sighed mentally, relieved that she'd bought his excuse. "Sorry... I'm going back to bed now."
"Don't worry, you can sleep in as late as you can tomorrow," he assured her. "Whenever you wake up we can go swimsuit shopping and then we'll go to the beach."
Asuka nodded, too tired to argue.
When she had disappeared back into her room and her footsteps had ceased, Shinji reached into the cupboard and pulled out the bags. From them he removed one brand new ice cream maker and several cartons of fresh strawberries. Shinji left the ice cream maker on the counter and rummaged around the refrigerator, trying to find room for the strawberries.
= = = = = = =
"You can't put me in jail!"
"Until we get this cleared up, we are. And believe me, lady, I'm not enjoying this any more than you are." The door slid shut and the guard walked away, muttering under his breath.
Misato was tempted to shout after him, but decided not to—she really didn't want to stay here any longer than she had to. Her gaze shifted slowly to the other inmates, fortunately all of whom were female. She looked down at her hands, which were now free.
The former Major avoided looking at her fellow inmates, four of them in all, shivering to think what Ikari Gendo would say if he saw her now. Damn it, if only they hadn't taken my cell phone... I could call Ritsuko, or maybe even Asuka...
"Hey." For the third (and she hoped last) time, Misato turned in response to the same greeting. One of the women lifted her chin in her direction. "So, what have you done?"
"I...well... beat up a guy," she admitted.
This drew an admiring sound from the rest of the women, all of whom quickly insisted that Misato tell them the full story. Rather reluctantly she did, preferring that they hear the story from her lips than from one of the jailers. She wondered what had happened to the guy who had been arrested with her, but decided she didn't care.
"Tough girl," commented another woman, making a clucking sound in the back of her throat. Misato glanced at her and edged away—she was beginning to feel some fear despite their admiration for her; this particular inmate had long dark hair sticking in all directions, some matted down across her shoulders and throat. Much to Misato's horror, she laughed and pulled her closer with a long bony arm. "Come now, don't be shy."
Misato would have liked nothing more than to squirm away; the unoccupied corner of the metal bench looked like a haven to her.
I need a phone...I need to call Ritsuko!
She glanced through the sturdy metal bars that made up the door. They were on the second floor, in what she expected was a temporary holding room—none of them yet had been made to change into the white shirt and orange pants that all prisoners were required to wear. Misato thought of Ritsuko's advice and groaned; most likely the doctor wouldn't be at all surprised to find the apartment empty and wouldn't send out a search party even if she didn't come home for three days.
Misato looked at her watch again and rubbed the sore parts of her wrist where the metal of the handcuffs had dug deep into the skin. It was now 10:30 AM.
Thankfully the woman chose to release her. "She's getting bored. Tell her what you did." The command was followed by another nod.
Thus began a long tirade of stories about how each of them had managed to land herself in jail, ranging from excessive speeding to shoplifting. Misato didn't find any of them particularly amusing and had to exercise extreme self-control to keep herself from glancing at her watch constantly. It was 10:34. She had to know...
"Hey," she ventured cautiously, "when you came in here, did they let you made any phone calls?"
The long-haired woman snorted. "Haven't got anyone to call."
"Me neither," another replied.
Damn.
Misato slouched down low and crossed her arms and legs.
So much for a fun day.
= = = = = = =
Ritsuko was feeling very jealous of Misato at the moment. She had been called into her employer's office and given a full lecture on being ten minutes late—the morning fog and rush hour had made no difference whatsoever; if anything, it had lengthened the lecture. Next, one of her colleagues had come rushing into her room in a near panic, unable to find the blueprints desired by a client. Consequently, Ritsuko's entire morning had been spent poring over a mountain of manila folders and stray files. Back in the days of Nerv, this had been Misato's job, and Ritsuko had commonly teased her about it. Those words came back to haunt her now, as she pulled out yet another file.
Someone called out from her office, and Ritsuko recognized her as the one who had been panicked about blueprints—damn it, why isn't she here looking?—calling her.
"What is it?"
"Your phone's ringing."
"Well then, let it ring."
"...all right..."
She had been waiting, craving, yearning for the lunch break, but when that hour came her manager stopped in and coolly informed her that he was sending his secretary out to buy lunches for the entire staff and needed her order. Of course it wouldn't do to have a dismayed client, so she was to remain in the storage room, searching for that missing blueprint.
When lunch finally came, Ritsuko ripped off the plastic wrapping and tore hungrily into it, not tasting anything, and certainly not giving a thought to the flashing answering machine on her desk.
= = = = = = =
"Damn you, Ritsuko!"
However, Misato knew better than to slam the phone down on the receiver. She'd been waiting—what, three hours?—for her chance, and Ritsuko had to leave her office in that one precious moment.
She stole a glance at the fat guard in charge of the phone. He was busy talking with another stern-faced guard. Misato picked up the receiver again and quickly pressed the buttons that would—hopefully—somehow—get her out of here.
She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, waiting impatiently.
= = = = = = =
Asuka awoke briefly and groggily reached for the light. Had there been a faint ring, or was she imagining it? Asuka listened as intently as she could in her present state, decided she had been dreaming, and shut off the light. She pulled the covers over her head and went back to sleep.
= = = = = = =
"Hey." The voice she heard on the line was most certainly not Asuka's—it was most certainly male. "This call is being monitored—and you've already made more than your allotted number of calls."
Click.
Sadly Misato replaced the receiver and allowed the guard to lead her back to her cell, where the other four inmates were waiting eagerly for news.
"So? Who'd you call?"
"Are they coming to get you?"
"No," Misato muttered, ignoring the first question as she sank back into her own spot by the door. The metal bench was icy cold and hard.
"At least you had someone to call," one of them offered kindly.
Despairingly Misato looked into her face and was surprised to see a mixture of sympathy and sadness. "What happened to—to your—?"
She shrugged, not minding the purple-haired woman's directness. "All dead."
"I'm sorry," Misato quickly apologized.
"Doesn't matter. So, who'd you call?"
"My friend," she admitted quietly, knowing it would lead to a discussion about her parents. Misato steeled herself, knowing it wouldn't be easy to relive the memories of the Katsuragi expedition, of the quarrels between her mother and father, how he had died to save her...
= = = = = = =
"I think this one would look nice on you."
Shinji looked so funny holding up an orange bathing suit that Asuka had to laugh. "That would make me look like a huge fireball...!"
"Oh." Shinji replaced it on the rack. Asuka found a one-piece in several shades of blue, evidently designed to look like ripples or water. "How does this one look?"
"Go try it on," he urged.
Ten minutes later they left the store, Asuka carrying her suit in a small plastic bag. Shinji stopped en route to the beach to pick up another sack of oranges and several bottles of water. Much to his surprise (and delight), Asuka had found the ice cream maker and was already churning out fluffy pink ice cream garnished with chunks of real strawberries by the time he entered the kitchen that morning. The dessert had been packaged and now lay in a cooler at Asuka's feet.
Asuka glanced at the clock—it was nearly noon. She suggested that they eat lunch on the sand first, then go into the water; Shinji liked this idea and parked quickly by the side of the road. From the front of the car Asuka pulled out the cooler containing their lunches and ice cream, and from the back Shinji removed their towels, beach chairs, and an enormous rainbow- colored umbrella.
The redhead squealed when she first stepped onto the sand, feeling it give way under her feet. Shinji laughed and kicked off his sandals. Asuka followed his example and half-hopped, half-skipped down to the edge of the water, yelping at the burning sensation on the soles of her feet. Shinji set up the umbrella and spread out their beach towels in the shade.
By then Asuka had changed her mind, and was running full speed into the ocean waves while Shinji sat lazily on the beach and ate his way through three sandwiches. Twenty minutes later she ran back up to him, dripping with seawater, clutching several large white shells in her hands.
Shinji laughed at her and pulled out the ice cream.
= = = = = = =
"Took you long enough, damn it."
"Oh shut up. I had to work all day and then come pick you up from jail. We're lucky you got off with just a fine."
"You sound like a guard yourself," Misato grumbled.
Ritsuko muttered something indistinguishable under her breath. In the dim moonlight, Misato couldn't see the dark circles under her friend's eyes—not that she chose to, either.
"I see you didn't take the advice I gave you this morning."
"Oh shut up."
Ritsuko snickered and increased pressure on the accelerator. Her car shot off into the distance, leaving the dreary jail far behind until it vanished from view.
Author's Notes: I decided this time to elaborate more on Misato, since I completely left her out of the last two chapters, and Shinji and Asuka are having a very relaxed day... not particularly a happy day for Misato, but an adventurous one, nevertheless. I'm not sure if I made this clear—due to the time changes, when it's night in Japan it's day in California—I'm not sure of the exact difference in times, so I've left it at twelve hours.
To Asuka201: I've taken a look at your translation—I can't read much Chinese, but it looks very nice! And thank you for adding my name and a link to this story, I'll be adding your translation to the first page of this story too.
Oh yeah, another trivia question: I mentioned that Misato's bag was small and barely large enough to fit a handgun in it, with two vertical pink stripes and one white one between the two. To which anime character does this bag actually belong?
Thanks guys for all your reviews!