"I'll be there, then," Shinji cut in, clearly exasperated. "Oh, that—I don't care. Anything but the green, since it doesn't go with our cover story. Yes, I'd appreciate that, thank you very much—by the way, is Kensuke there?"
He listened intently, absentmindedly shuffling around papers with the other hand. The clock on the wall ticked along cheerfully, never stopping, and soon made another full rotation around its face. The time was 8:38 AM. If his plane left at nine-thirty PM, he would have plenty of time to see Asuka off before hurrying off to catch his own flight.
"Just a question—why wasn't I informed of this earlier?"
The reply was not what he wanted to hear, although Shinji didn't think there was anything that he would have accepted as a good response. His secretary, normally very calm and capable regardless of the situation, was becoming flustered under his harsh tone, and Shinji was beginning to feel the first pangs of guilt. It wasn't her fault, after all.
"I'm sorry, Marta," he sighed. "One last thing—can you find the article about fluorescent sea animals—I forgot what it was called, sorry—and deliver it to Ben? He had a few editorial comments he wanted to make.
"All right, thank you, Marta—I'll see you Wednesday after next, and if anything comes up then you can either email or call my cell."
= = = = = = =
In another wing of the house, Asuka stretched. If only the Japanese had such luxurious beds, she thought enviously. Surely three or four people could fit on a bit this big, but it was all hers. It would be hard getting used to a simple cot on the floor again.
She loved the ceiling fan. It was painted green to match everything else and consisted of five flat panels arranged so that each was an equal distance from any other, giving it the appearance of a very large flower. Asuka had turned it on last night before going to sleep, and all night it had hummed merrily, occasionally adding in a whistle. The blades blended together into one round disk. It was past time to get up.
Asuka sat up and folded her hands into fists as she stretched her arms. She lay down again, wanting to savor the flavor of such relaxation; after all, tonight she'd be back to sleeping on Misato's hard floor. The redhead placed herself flat on top of the thick blanket with her back facing up and placed her head on her hands. She closed her eyes.
Someone knocked on the door. "Asuka?" Shinji called tentatively. "Can I come in?"
Asuka leapt up, blushing. "No—no, give me a minute," she called out quickly. "I'm dressing."
"All right."
Quick, must find clothes, Asuka thought, digging through her suitcase. There would be a lot of repacking to do tonight—but she didn't have time to think of that now—she had to find something proper and clean to wear!
Her hand touched the blue pleated skirt Misato had bought for her before leaving Japan. In her other hand she seized a white shirt, and hurriedly threw them on.
"Sorry," she apologized, upon coming out.
"It's fine," Shinji pointed out, smiling. "But, Asuka... your shirt is inside out."
Asuka looked down and noticed that indeed, all the seams were sticking out.
"Excuse me..."
Ten minutes later she reappeared, properly dressed, teeth and hair brushed, with the latter drawn back into a low ponytail as Hazuki-san had often done for her. Shinji was heating leftovers from last night's dinner and making some fresh rice and vegetables.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "It looks like I'll be leaving today as well—Kensuke has managed to secure us on a tour of the French countryside—only he didn't get the news until this morning. Since I won't be home for over a week, I need to finish eating all of this or it'll go bad."
Asuka didn't mind at all. In fact, she'd been hoping that there would be some of his noodles left.
"What time will you leave?" she asked, in slightly accented English. Shinji smiled into his coffee as he stirred with a small silver spoon, and it pleased her.
"After you, so don't worry. I'll drive you to the airport and see you onto the plane before I leave. And I promise I'll mail you a postcard from England."
He stirred the coffee some more, and then took a sip. "Where do you want to go today? Other than the grocery store, to buy jelly beans for the children? You'll need to buy some snacks for the flight back, too—I can't imagine how you survived, eating all that airplane food."
"It wasn't too bad," Asuka admitted. "I want to go down to the lake. I saw some geese there this morning."
"All right. Do you want to go shopping? I should've asked earlier..."
"No, no it's fine," she insisted. "I have everything I could possibly need in Tokyo-3, and I can buy what I want with my salary from the ice cream parlor. I don't have to depend on Misato anymore. It's...a wonderful feeling of freedom," she finished slowly.
Shinji laughed. "I know how you feel. I had to restrain myself from spending it all when I got my first paycheck."
She joined in the laughter, thinking of just how much he must've had to save to buy this house.
Shinji drained his coffee in a few more sips, but Asuka took her time with the noodles. She had seen Shinji slice the vegetables and add certain spices. Perhaps she could make it herself at home—and show Misato a thing or two about proper noodles. Asuka grinned wickedly to herself.
= = = = = = =
"Does Japan allow importing food?"
He shrugged. "As long as you eat it on the flight, it doesn't enter the country. And about the jelly beans, I don't think they'll mind. It'll be packaged, anyway—they're mainly concerned about fresh produce and meat."
Shinji told her a story about his first flight to America. "When we went through customs, they were randomly opening up people's suitcases. This one poor girl had a suitcase full of food—apples, pears, carrots, you name it—even meat—all of it was confiscated, and she was fined heavily. What a terrible experience for one's first day in America."
Asuka dropped the bag of jelly beans back onto the shelf. Shinji scoffed and threw it back in their cart. "Japan is much less restrictive on this sort of thing. Don't worry, packaged candy won't hurt you." He picked up the bag himself and studied the package. It was identical to the free samples they had been given two days ago. Shinji gave it some thought, and tossed two more bags into the cart. "For eating on the plane," he admitted guiltily.
He bought a couple of pears for his flight and for Asuka, several apples and five persimmons. Asuka followed him into the aisle of multicultural food and watched in surprise as he plucked three boxes of Mexican rice off of the shelf.
"I must say, I've learned to like it after Marta brought it to Kensuke's party," he said. "Did you try some?"
"A little, but I didn't like it very much." Asuka remembered Marta. A middle-aged woman with beautiful copper-colored skin who held kindness and quiet capability in her eyes. She had brought the redhead into her small cubicle and shown Asuka pictures of her two grown children. One was in college and the other was a senior in high school. Their pictures plastered her small moveable wall, from babyhood through their teenage years.
Shinji threw the boxes into the cart. "That should be enough. I don't particularly care for French food."
"Will they let you into France with all that?" Asuka teased.
"I'd rather take the risk of getting caught and being fined. I'm not going anywhere without food!"
= = = = = = =
Misato was still in a fury over her car.
"If there weren't so many children around, I would be cursing so—violently," she growled. Makoto and Keiichi, among others, were racing around her house energetically. Every few moments she cast a glance to make sure no one was hurt, then turned back to complaining about the car.
"The problem hasn't gotten better at all, Misato-san?" Kimie asked sadly. She was perched atop a chair in the kitchen, rolling out flour and salt for tonight's pie. A few droplets of water soaked into the dry dough. Kimie flipped it over and gave it a pat. Pie crust!
"Well, it moves," Misato confessed grudgingly, "very slowly, however, and it is a MAJOR pain in the—"Kimie glanced at her warningly: "...it's very hard to steer."
Kimie smiled. "Well, that's an improvement."
"Not nearly enough," Misato grumbled. "At that rate, I should be setting out—about NOW—in order to get there by the time she walks out of the airport. And her flight's not due to land for another three, no four, hours."
The two women worked in silence, Kimie on her pie and Misato on the four different dishes she was preparing, not divulging just how much she would like to taste Shinji's cooking again. There was a massive thundering on the stairs.
"We're going outside, Misato-san!" the boys called as they ran out the door.
Misato nodded to them and wiped her hands on a towel. "Kimie, you haven't yet told me what's going in your crust. What have you planned?"
"Well," the girl faltered. "I don't quite know...I made pear for my brothers yesterday, and they loved it, but we all ate so much that I'm not willing to go near my pear tree for a few days."
Misato laughed. "Whatever filling you choose, don't pick—"
"—watermelon," Kimie finished for her, and both burst into laughter. "I really do have to decide soon, Misato-san, before my crust dries out. What can I put in it? What does Asuka-san like?"
"She eats just about anything I buy," Misato said thoughtfully. "I wonder what I have?" Kimie laid her crust over the pie pan and waited while the purple-haired lady rummaged through her refrigerator. "I have two apples, three peaches, and a string of grapes. There's not enough of any one fruit to make a pie, is there?"
"We could put them all in." Kimie was enjoying herself. "A fruit salad pie. Do you have any vanilla extract, Misato, and sour cream?"
= = = = = = =
"I'm sorry we didn't come here earlier."
"Me too."
They were sitting on the grassy slopes of Shinji's backyard, which extended into the lake. Shinji had thought to bring bug repellant, and now they were able to enjoy the nature without being bothered by the buzzing insects.
Asuka was sitting back, propping herself up with her hands, but Shinji was lying spread eagled in the grass, not caring that he was getting grass and dirt all over his shirt.
"Will you come back to Japan someday?"
"I expect so." Shinji's answer was filled with certainly.
"To stay?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"I don't know, Asuka." A pair of meadowlarks took off into the air above them and Shinji followed them with his gaze for some time before looking away. "It would be just as hard for me to leave California forever as it would be for you to leave Tokyo-3 forever.
"Hey," he grabbed her hand, for she was looking very sorrowful, "please don't be sad, Asuka. I'll write to you, and I'll send you a postcard wherever I go. Think of—of all the children in Japan who are waiting for you to come home and tell them stories. I'll bet none of them have ever traveled as far as you. Think of how happy the jelly beans will make them, and how happy Misato will be when you teach her some new recipes."
Asuka smiled then. Shinji looked at his watch. "We have to go."
= = = = = = = =
Flight 289 from Los Angeles, California, direct flight to Tokyo-3, Japan was on time and scheduled to take off at 7:03 PM. Flight 594 from Los Angeles California, to Paris, France, with a stop in Barcelona, Spain, was late and not scheduled for take off until 10:50. Shinji's expression sank like a stone.
"I wonder why we're flying to Paris," he mused, rubbing his chin. Paris did not seem like his idea of French countryside. Surely Kensuke or Marta will fix it up. They always have.
Asuka followed him to the gate, where there was time for a quick hug before check-in began. She put her arms around him and abruptly broke apart, averting his eyes. Shinji was looking over her baggage. "You've got everything?"
"Yes, I'm sure," she said.
"Oh, I almost forgot." He reached into his wallet and pulled out a photograph. It was identical to the portrait of himself, Asuka, and Rei hanging in his living room. It was the original. "Keep this."
Asuka glanced from the young Shinji's face into the twenty-six year old's. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Thank you." Asuka embraced him one last time and ran towards the flight attendant inspecting tickets. When all she was clear, she waved. Shinji returned the gesture. Asuka hurried into the corridor connecting the plane to the airport.
She was gone.
Shinji blinked, almost daring to hope that she would stick her head out and wave at him again. But she didn't.
= = = = = = =
"So I was driving home from Ritsuko's for most of the night, and this piece of trash decides to die on me when I'm just twenty feet away from my own damn house!"
Misato was fuming very loudly, so loudly that some nearby drivers pulled down their windows and yelled at her. Then again, perhaps they were demanding that she speed up—they were only moving at eight miles an hour.
"How's Ritsuko?" Asuka asked timidly.
"She's fine, doesn't like her job much, wants to redye her hair since it's fading just a bit," Misato scoffed. "Honestly, if anyone needs their head dyed, it's me, given the amount of white hairs I've had to pull out recently—"
She ranted on for awhile, then asked, "How's Shinji?"
"He's quite a successful businessman," Asuka commented. "We went out to the party of one of his colleagues, and I found the green dress, Misato. Thank you—you really didn't have to do that."
Misato smiled sweetly and opened her mouth to say something, but at that moment the car jerked forward. The speedometer's arrow quivered and flipped around until it was pointing at 95. They speeded past the drivers that had earlier thrown insults at them.
"HAHAHA, THIS IS MORE LIKE IT!" Misato shouted, as they flew through a red light.
"Misato, please stop!" Asuka screamed over Misato's wild yells. The car lifted off the asphalt for a few seconds, then smashed down on all four wheels. Misato gave the wheel a sharp turn and the car turned 180 degrees around. It was with great relief (for Asuka) that the car finally skidded to a stop some hundred meters down the street from Misato's house.
"Wait, wait," Asuka insisted, as Misato made to back up. "I'm getting out."
She ran up to the house alone, but before she made it the doors and windows burst open, and children jumped out of them. Tamika was waving the picture frame, Makoto his rocks, and Kimie came out to top it all with a fresh fruit salad pie. The redhead ran toward them, feeling truly loved. She called out each of their names and swept them into a bear hug.
Asuka reached for her bag and remembered it was still in Misato's car. She felt guilty for not having her arms filled with presents for the children, as they had for her, but she would as soon as her bags were unpacked. If they ever got to the front door. Asuka turned to see Misato running into a pothole.
And then she heard Shinji's voice echoing in her head over the children's shouts.
Think of all the children in Japan who are waiting for you to come home and tell them stories. I'll bet none of them have ever traveled as far as you. Think of how happy the jelly beans will make them.
Author's Notes: This is essentially the end of Finding Asuka Langley, but an epilogue will follow (hopefully if I can finish it in the next seven hours, I'm writing on the plane to Tokyo-1, and this will be up when I get there)
I've also decided to change the rating to PG... it's sort of been teetering on the edge, especially with all the "damn"s Misato shouted while in jail.
I'll have some more formal comments for the epilogue... thanks to all of you!
He listened intently, absentmindedly shuffling around papers with the other hand. The clock on the wall ticked along cheerfully, never stopping, and soon made another full rotation around its face. The time was 8:38 AM. If his plane left at nine-thirty PM, he would have plenty of time to see Asuka off before hurrying off to catch his own flight.
"Just a question—why wasn't I informed of this earlier?"
The reply was not what he wanted to hear, although Shinji didn't think there was anything that he would have accepted as a good response. His secretary, normally very calm and capable regardless of the situation, was becoming flustered under his harsh tone, and Shinji was beginning to feel the first pangs of guilt. It wasn't her fault, after all.
"I'm sorry, Marta," he sighed. "One last thing—can you find the article about fluorescent sea animals—I forgot what it was called, sorry—and deliver it to Ben? He had a few editorial comments he wanted to make.
"All right, thank you, Marta—I'll see you Wednesday after next, and if anything comes up then you can either email or call my cell."
= = = = = = =
In another wing of the house, Asuka stretched. If only the Japanese had such luxurious beds, she thought enviously. Surely three or four people could fit on a bit this big, but it was all hers. It would be hard getting used to a simple cot on the floor again.
She loved the ceiling fan. It was painted green to match everything else and consisted of five flat panels arranged so that each was an equal distance from any other, giving it the appearance of a very large flower. Asuka had turned it on last night before going to sleep, and all night it had hummed merrily, occasionally adding in a whistle. The blades blended together into one round disk. It was past time to get up.
Asuka sat up and folded her hands into fists as she stretched her arms. She lay down again, wanting to savor the flavor of such relaxation; after all, tonight she'd be back to sleeping on Misato's hard floor. The redhead placed herself flat on top of the thick blanket with her back facing up and placed her head on her hands. She closed her eyes.
Someone knocked on the door. "Asuka?" Shinji called tentatively. "Can I come in?"
Asuka leapt up, blushing. "No—no, give me a minute," she called out quickly. "I'm dressing."
"All right."
Quick, must find clothes, Asuka thought, digging through her suitcase. There would be a lot of repacking to do tonight—but she didn't have time to think of that now—she had to find something proper and clean to wear!
Her hand touched the blue pleated skirt Misato had bought for her before leaving Japan. In her other hand she seized a white shirt, and hurriedly threw them on.
"Sorry," she apologized, upon coming out.
"It's fine," Shinji pointed out, smiling. "But, Asuka... your shirt is inside out."
Asuka looked down and noticed that indeed, all the seams were sticking out.
"Excuse me..."
Ten minutes later she reappeared, properly dressed, teeth and hair brushed, with the latter drawn back into a low ponytail as Hazuki-san had often done for her. Shinji was heating leftovers from last night's dinner and making some fresh rice and vegetables.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "It looks like I'll be leaving today as well—Kensuke has managed to secure us on a tour of the French countryside—only he didn't get the news until this morning. Since I won't be home for over a week, I need to finish eating all of this or it'll go bad."
Asuka didn't mind at all. In fact, she'd been hoping that there would be some of his noodles left.
"What time will you leave?" she asked, in slightly accented English. Shinji smiled into his coffee as he stirred with a small silver spoon, and it pleased her.
"After you, so don't worry. I'll drive you to the airport and see you onto the plane before I leave. And I promise I'll mail you a postcard from England."
He stirred the coffee some more, and then took a sip. "Where do you want to go today? Other than the grocery store, to buy jelly beans for the children? You'll need to buy some snacks for the flight back, too—I can't imagine how you survived, eating all that airplane food."
"It wasn't too bad," Asuka admitted. "I want to go down to the lake. I saw some geese there this morning."
"All right. Do you want to go shopping? I should've asked earlier..."
"No, no it's fine," she insisted. "I have everything I could possibly need in Tokyo-3, and I can buy what I want with my salary from the ice cream parlor. I don't have to depend on Misato anymore. It's...a wonderful feeling of freedom," she finished slowly.
Shinji laughed. "I know how you feel. I had to restrain myself from spending it all when I got my first paycheck."
She joined in the laughter, thinking of just how much he must've had to save to buy this house.
Shinji drained his coffee in a few more sips, but Asuka took her time with the noodles. She had seen Shinji slice the vegetables and add certain spices. Perhaps she could make it herself at home—and show Misato a thing or two about proper noodles. Asuka grinned wickedly to herself.
= = = = = = =
"Does Japan allow importing food?"
He shrugged. "As long as you eat it on the flight, it doesn't enter the country. And about the jelly beans, I don't think they'll mind. It'll be packaged, anyway—they're mainly concerned about fresh produce and meat."
Shinji told her a story about his first flight to America. "When we went through customs, they were randomly opening up people's suitcases. This one poor girl had a suitcase full of food—apples, pears, carrots, you name it—even meat—all of it was confiscated, and she was fined heavily. What a terrible experience for one's first day in America."
Asuka dropped the bag of jelly beans back onto the shelf. Shinji scoffed and threw it back in their cart. "Japan is much less restrictive on this sort of thing. Don't worry, packaged candy won't hurt you." He picked up the bag himself and studied the package. It was identical to the free samples they had been given two days ago. Shinji gave it some thought, and tossed two more bags into the cart. "For eating on the plane," he admitted guiltily.
He bought a couple of pears for his flight and for Asuka, several apples and five persimmons. Asuka followed him into the aisle of multicultural food and watched in surprise as he plucked three boxes of Mexican rice off of the shelf.
"I must say, I've learned to like it after Marta brought it to Kensuke's party," he said. "Did you try some?"
"A little, but I didn't like it very much." Asuka remembered Marta. A middle-aged woman with beautiful copper-colored skin who held kindness and quiet capability in her eyes. She had brought the redhead into her small cubicle and shown Asuka pictures of her two grown children. One was in college and the other was a senior in high school. Their pictures plastered her small moveable wall, from babyhood through their teenage years.
Shinji threw the boxes into the cart. "That should be enough. I don't particularly care for French food."
"Will they let you into France with all that?" Asuka teased.
"I'd rather take the risk of getting caught and being fined. I'm not going anywhere without food!"
= = = = = = =
Misato was still in a fury over her car.
"If there weren't so many children around, I would be cursing so—violently," she growled. Makoto and Keiichi, among others, were racing around her house energetically. Every few moments she cast a glance to make sure no one was hurt, then turned back to complaining about the car.
"The problem hasn't gotten better at all, Misato-san?" Kimie asked sadly. She was perched atop a chair in the kitchen, rolling out flour and salt for tonight's pie. A few droplets of water soaked into the dry dough. Kimie flipped it over and gave it a pat. Pie crust!
"Well, it moves," Misato confessed grudgingly, "very slowly, however, and it is a MAJOR pain in the—"Kimie glanced at her warningly: "...it's very hard to steer."
Kimie smiled. "Well, that's an improvement."
"Not nearly enough," Misato grumbled. "At that rate, I should be setting out—about NOW—in order to get there by the time she walks out of the airport. And her flight's not due to land for another three, no four, hours."
The two women worked in silence, Kimie on her pie and Misato on the four different dishes she was preparing, not divulging just how much she would like to taste Shinji's cooking again. There was a massive thundering on the stairs.
"We're going outside, Misato-san!" the boys called as they ran out the door.
Misato nodded to them and wiped her hands on a towel. "Kimie, you haven't yet told me what's going in your crust. What have you planned?"
"Well," the girl faltered. "I don't quite know...I made pear for my brothers yesterday, and they loved it, but we all ate so much that I'm not willing to go near my pear tree for a few days."
Misato laughed. "Whatever filling you choose, don't pick—"
"—watermelon," Kimie finished for her, and both burst into laughter. "I really do have to decide soon, Misato-san, before my crust dries out. What can I put in it? What does Asuka-san like?"
"She eats just about anything I buy," Misato said thoughtfully. "I wonder what I have?" Kimie laid her crust over the pie pan and waited while the purple-haired lady rummaged through her refrigerator. "I have two apples, three peaches, and a string of grapes. There's not enough of any one fruit to make a pie, is there?"
"We could put them all in." Kimie was enjoying herself. "A fruit salad pie. Do you have any vanilla extract, Misato, and sour cream?"
= = = = = = =
"I'm sorry we didn't come here earlier."
"Me too."
They were sitting on the grassy slopes of Shinji's backyard, which extended into the lake. Shinji had thought to bring bug repellant, and now they were able to enjoy the nature without being bothered by the buzzing insects.
Asuka was sitting back, propping herself up with her hands, but Shinji was lying spread eagled in the grass, not caring that he was getting grass and dirt all over his shirt.
"Will you come back to Japan someday?"
"I expect so." Shinji's answer was filled with certainly.
"To stay?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"I don't know, Asuka." A pair of meadowlarks took off into the air above them and Shinji followed them with his gaze for some time before looking away. "It would be just as hard for me to leave California forever as it would be for you to leave Tokyo-3 forever.
"Hey," he grabbed her hand, for she was looking very sorrowful, "please don't be sad, Asuka. I'll write to you, and I'll send you a postcard wherever I go. Think of—of all the children in Japan who are waiting for you to come home and tell them stories. I'll bet none of them have ever traveled as far as you. Think of how happy the jelly beans will make them, and how happy Misato will be when you teach her some new recipes."
Asuka smiled then. Shinji looked at his watch. "We have to go."
= = = = = = = =
Flight 289 from Los Angeles, California, direct flight to Tokyo-3, Japan was on time and scheduled to take off at 7:03 PM. Flight 594 from Los Angeles California, to Paris, France, with a stop in Barcelona, Spain, was late and not scheduled for take off until 10:50. Shinji's expression sank like a stone.
"I wonder why we're flying to Paris," he mused, rubbing his chin. Paris did not seem like his idea of French countryside. Surely Kensuke or Marta will fix it up. They always have.
Asuka followed him to the gate, where there was time for a quick hug before check-in began. She put her arms around him and abruptly broke apart, averting his eyes. Shinji was looking over her baggage. "You've got everything?"
"Yes, I'm sure," she said.
"Oh, I almost forgot." He reached into his wallet and pulled out a photograph. It was identical to the portrait of himself, Asuka, and Rei hanging in his living room. It was the original. "Keep this."
Asuka glanced from the young Shinji's face into the twenty-six year old's. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Thank you." Asuka embraced him one last time and ran towards the flight attendant inspecting tickets. When all she was clear, she waved. Shinji returned the gesture. Asuka hurried into the corridor connecting the plane to the airport.
She was gone.
Shinji blinked, almost daring to hope that she would stick her head out and wave at him again. But she didn't.
= = = = = = =
"So I was driving home from Ritsuko's for most of the night, and this piece of trash decides to die on me when I'm just twenty feet away from my own damn house!"
Misato was fuming very loudly, so loudly that some nearby drivers pulled down their windows and yelled at her. Then again, perhaps they were demanding that she speed up—they were only moving at eight miles an hour.
"How's Ritsuko?" Asuka asked timidly.
"She's fine, doesn't like her job much, wants to redye her hair since it's fading just a bit," Misato scoffed. "Honestly, if anyone needs their head dyed, it's me, given the amount of white hairs I've had to pull out recently—"
She ranted on for awhile, then asked, "How's Shinji?"
"He's quite a successful businessman," Asuka commented. "We went out to the party of one of his colleagues, and I found the green dress, Misato. Thank you—you really didn't have to do that."
Misato smiled sweetly and opened her mouth to say something, but at that moment the car jerked forward. The speedometer's arrow quivered and flipped around until it was pointing at 95. They speeded past the drivers that had earlier thrown insults at them.
"HAHAHA, THIS IS MORE LIKE IT!" Misato shouted, as they flew through a red light.
"Misato, please stop!" Asuka screamed over Misato's wild yells. The car lifted off the asphalt for a few seconds, then smashed down on all four wheels. Misato gave the wheel a sharp turn and the car turned 180 degrees around. It was with great relief (for Asuka) that the car finally skidded to a stop some hundred meters down the street from Misato's house.
"Wait, wait," Asuka insisted, as Misato made to back up. "I'm getting out."
She ran up to the house alone, but before she made it the doors and windows burst open, and children jumped out of them. Tamika was waving the picture frame, Makoto his rocks, and Kimie came out to top it all with a fresh fruit salad pie. The redhead ran toward them, feeling truly loved. She called out each of their names and swept them into a bear hug.
Asuka reached for her bag and remembered it was still in Misato's car. She felt guilty for not having her arms filled with presents for the children, as they had for her, but she would as soon as her bags were unpacked. If they ever got to the front door. Asuka turned to see Misato running into a pothole.
And then she heard Shinji's voice echoing in her head over the children's shouts.
Think of all the children in Japan who are waiting for you to come home and tell them stories. I'll bet none of them have ever traveled as far as you. Think of how happy the jelly beans will make them.
Author's Notes: This is essentially the end of Finding Asuka Langley, but an epilogue will follow (hopefully if I can finish it in the next seven hours, I'm writing on the plane to Tokyo-1, and this will be up when I get there)
I've also decided to change the rating to PG... it's sort of been teetering on the edge, especially with all the "damn"s Misato shouted while in jail.
I'll have some more formal comments for the epilogue... thanks to all of you!