Disclaimer: Refer to the first chapter. If you don't want to, I'll say it again. I don't own Evangelion. My corporate subsidy GAINAX does. Then again maybe it's not my corporate subsidy. But they sure do own it.
"Dialogue"
[Thoughts]
Unintended Consequences 02: Symphony of the Soul
Katsumoto Residence
True to his word, the door to Fujiwara's flat was only a few minutes brisk walk away from where they had originally sheltered. Out of the rain and a little less cold, Shinji was having second thoughts about the whole idea as the detective unlocked the door to his flat, his shyness and solitary nature having wrested control back from his survival instincts. "Fujiwara-san, I don't really think this is necessary, I-"
"Don't be foolish Shinji, the rain hasn't gotten any lighter if you go out soaked as you are, your likely to catch something nasty" The detective said, waving the boy's protestations aside as he opened the door and stepped inside. "Come on in, let's get you dry."
Still uncertain, he simply stood on the threshold. "uhm, excuse the intrusion." He had taken a tentative step into the flat when a large towel landed on his head. "Here, use that to dry yourself out, and make yourself at home. Just try not to get the furniture wet." Fujiwara was apparently not wasting any time in wanting to get him dry.
Patting himself down with the towel as best as he could, Shinji walked into the common room while Fujiwara disappeared into what he thought was the kitchen. It was sparsely furnished, yet functional. A small couch in front of a TV, a desk and chair were the most prominent items within the room. What caught Shinji's attention most though, was the cello case that was propped up in one corner. Moving in for a closer look, he noticed that it lay beneath a faint sheen of dust. If Fujiwara had ever played the cello, it was a long time ago.
XXXXX
Inside the kitchen, Fujiwara went through the motions of preparing some tea. The wind had chilled them both, Shinji the worst. He would need something warm. But his mind was not in the action; instead it was analyzing the events that had occurred. Most prominent of all was the odd behavior that Shinji had showed.
[His eyes, they seemed so...so empty]
It was a familiar look. That empty, haunted gaze had adorned the faces of children and adults alike in during the worst times of post 2nd impact. But at his age, Shinji shouldn't have experienced it. True, the trauma of losing a parent and being abandoned by the other could help explain it, but he had seen many orphans with tragic pasts who were cheerier than he was. What was it about this boy?
[I'm sorry for causing you all this trouble]
The way he said it. It seemed like he believed he was at fault. Most children would avoid blame, afraid of repercussions. This one was different. It was almost like he was seeking blame, yet still afraid of the consequences. [Could it be depression?]
His brow furrowed in thought, trying to piece together the puzzle that was Shinji Ikari. Long forgotten memories surfaced. Rumors, half-heard years ago, came to life, whispering in their sibilant voices. Connections were made, suggesting a possible key to understanding the boy. Could it be that-.
The whistle of the kettle broke his line of thought. As he prepared the bitter beverage he decided to try and be a bit more open to the boy. He genuinely intrigued him. Perhaps more answers would be forthcoming later. Arriving at the living room, he found the boy not sitting on the chair or couch as he had expected. Instead, he was standing in the corner where his cello lay. So absorbed was he with it that he did not hear Fujiwara's approach.
XXXXX
"See anything interesting?"
Whirling around, he saw Fujiwara behind him, a pair of steaming mugs in his hand. "Ahh! Fujiwara-san! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to touch it or anything." He would have continued in his apologies had he not noticed that the detective had begun chuckling.
Setting the one of the mugs on the desk, Fujiwara proffered the other to Shinji. "Look Shinji, you haven't broken anything or taken anything that wasn't yours so there's nothing to apologize for. Anyways, here, drink this. It will help warm you up while I call your guardians."
Sipping the bitter brew, Shinji found his eyes drawn back to the cello case as Fujiwara called the Hokage residence. Cello lessons, learned from the hours he had spent in the school music room, surfaced in his awareness. [I wonder how he came by it? It doesn't seem like he plays it.] He tried imagining the gruff detective playing on the instrument but the two images were impossible to bring together. He was still wondering how he came by it when Fujiwara ended the call.
"Well Shinji, I've contacted your guardians and they've asked me to bring you back as soon as the rain has ended." Taking up his own cup of tea, Fujiwara began sipping it, staring at him with slate colored eyes as he sat on the desk chair. The stare unnerved Shinji. It felt as though he was plumbing the depths of his soul, bringing to light memories he had hidden from. An uncomfortable silence stretched out between the both of them, the wafts of steam rising from the cups being the only sign of movement. Shinji began to fidget when Fujiwara broke the silence. "You look like you have a question or two to ask. Go ahead."
Prompted by the statement, Shinji gave voice to a question that had been bothering him for some time. "Fujiwara-san, why did you help me?" He still couldn't fathom why the detective had taken the effort of helping someone as worthless as him.
Slate colored eyes blinked. Their owner leaning back on the chair; apparently giving the question some thought. [Why would he ask such a question? Did he think that he did not need such help? Or did he believe himself unworthy?] Staring back at the boy, he gave his gruff answer. "I helped you because it is both my duty and responsibility as an officer and an adult to give aid to any person who needs it. I gave you aid because you needed it." He shook his head, as if somehow disappointed with something as he thought to himself. [A lesson many people have not learned or just forgotten.]
"Fujiwara-san?"
Apparently he had been speaking his thoughts aloud. Grunting, he flicked his hand, waving off the matter. "Never mind, it was nothing. Do you want to ask anything else?"
"Fujiwara-san, do you play the cello?" cobalt eyes had once again found themselves drawn to the dust-covered instrument lying in the corner.
He shook his head. "No Shinji. I don't have any talent at all with the instrument."
"But then..." the question was obvious, even unspoken.
"It belonged to my aunt who used to play in an orchestra." His eyes grew distant, remembering times long past. "She's gone now. She left it to me."
"Oh. I'm sorry" Shinji stared at the floor, wishing he could sink into it for asking a question which had such a personal answer behind it.
Fujiwara was unsure of what to make of the boy. In the short period of time that he had known him, Shinji had proven to be one of the most easily depressed individuals he had seen in his lifetime.
Shinji puzzled him.
And when he was puzzled, he became curious.
And when he became curious, he needed to know.
But for now, Shinji needed something to take his mind of his increasing depression. Investigations could take place later. "What about you Shinji? Do you play the cello?" He kicked himself mentally for asking such a stupid question. A cello was not a simple instrument to learn and it was unlikely that someone as young as he was would know how to play it.
As quickly as his head came up at that question, it sank just as quickly. Shinji shuffled his feet. "I'm...I'm learning to play it. I'm not very...good at it."
This particular statement came as quite a surprise to Fujiwara. He found himself wanting to know just how good the boy was. "Would you like to play on it?"
Nervousness shot through Shinji's frame. He was not very good with the instrument and here, Fujiwara was asking if he wanted to play it? "b-b-but Fujiwara-san, I don't know how to play it very well and...and..." He would have continued in his protestations but his mind and voice failed him at that point.
"Shinji, it doesn't matter whether your good at it or not." Unnoticed while he had been staring at his feet, Fujiwara had collected the cello case. With a soft thud, he had placed it before Shinji. "What matters is whether you can put your heart into it" Fujiwara looked at him.
Unsure of how to reply to the question in Fujiwara's eyes, he nodded, reaching out for the cello case. He missed the approval that flashed across the older man's eyes. With uncertain hands, he opened the cello case, the locks clicking softly as they were released. The instrument that lay inside was a bit surprising.
It radiated age. An aura of years, perhaps decades and possibly centuries were worn like a fine mantle as they exuded from the instrument. The fine sheen to the wood, the smoothness of the grain suggested that great care and attention had been paid to its construction.
His nervousness grew. This was no simple instrument. As young as he was, even he could see that this instrument was far older and finer than its counterpart in his school. Even Fujiwara must have known its worth. Would he be able to even produce anything worthy for such an instrument? It seemed unlikely. But to fail now would be to affirm his failure before the detective. The detective who had asked him to put his heart into it. A tiny bit of courage found its way to his heart. And with it, he made his decision.
He lifted the instrument, struggling beneath its weight until Fujiwara helped him to prop it up.
He picked up the bow, placing it across the strings of the instrument.
He closed his eyes, the scores he had learned came to his mind.
And he played.
The melody was slow at first. Uncertain and hesitant. But as the music progressed, that uncertainty faded. Shinji had slipped into that calming place of his mind that he always occupied whenever he played. Losing himself in the melody, he lowered his mental barriers, and played using not his mind, but with his heart.
Watching from his seat, Fujiwara felt the music wash over him. True, the melody was rather simple, understandable, given his age, but he could somehow feel the emotions layered into it. It felt...sad. [He really put his heart into it.] Potential was there. If he kept practicing, he would one day be able to play professionally. Unlike the nature of the music however, the expression that adorned Shinji's face was that of calm contentment, something that he had not seen during their brief acquaintance. [Perhaps the music is a form of escape?].
As the melody ended, the last few notes shimmering in the air, Shinji opened his eyes. His stomach churned as he looked at the older man, a question in his eyes. Did he like it? Did he hate it? Lacking in self-confidence, he was sure it was the latter.
"That's very good Shinji. You've got a lot of potential." The detective gave an approving nod. "Why don't you play another song?"
Praise. For once in his life, he had been praised. His face lit up, the dullness of his eyes faded away, filled with life at the approval. Encouraged by the few words of praise, he lifted the bow once more and played, happy that someone thought he was good at something instead of the burden that everyone else he believed thought of him.
Sitting on his chair, listening to the symphony of the boy's soul as the rain poured, Fujiwara made his decision. He would try to find out more about the boy. What made him the depressed person he was. And if he could, provide him with a bit of guidance. Idly, he wondered how much Shinji's past could hold as the strains of a cello interwove with the rhythm of the falling rain.
XXXXX
7 months later, Iino warehouse, Tekusho Industrial park
"What am I doing here?" Fujiwara sighed, asking himself the same question for what seemed the hundredth time ever since he began searching through Shinji's past as he stood among the deserted warehouses. Birth records, school records and identification all were legitimate and in order. However, there was a blank space in the records. When he was 3 years old, the records simply blanked out, listing only his residence, and had resumed after his arrival at the Osaka Central Train Station several months later. His brow furrowed.
Ever since he decided to look up his past, Fujiwara had gained an insight of sorts into the inner workings of Shinji's mind. He was a loner of sorts. He displayed the characteristic discomfort in crowds of any sort. But unlike a typical loner, he desired attention but was also afraid of it, the desire never voiced, but noticeable in his mannerisms should one pay attention. He smiled fondly as he recalled the question that had started the process which had resulted in his insight of Shinji's mind.
[Can I come back to play the cello again?]
It was strange that he asked such a forward question when Fujiwara was escorting him home on that fateful day. He had acquiesced. It was only later that he concluded Shinji had done so because he was desperate for the praise and acceptance he apparently never had before. He had tried to mature the boy, make him more self-reliant emotionally, with advice but there was only so much that could be done with words.
True, he was more capable of acting on his own now then he was when they first met, but he was still an emotionally fragile person. Underneath that fragility though, Fujiwara suspected that a kind yet resilient spirit was being nurtured. He hoped it would be able to stand the rigors of life. Still, he had grown rather fond of the boy. His past or lack thereof, was also something of great interest.
Which was why he was standing in the shade of a warehouse as the skies darkened above him, waiting for his supposed informant to appear. Investigating Shinji's past had led to a great many dead ends and nothings. It had begun as a simple inquiry, a simple check through the records. Born of Gendo Rokubungi, who had taken his wife's name, Yui Ikari, Shinji appeared to live a normal life according to the records in his first few years. Living in the growing metropolis known as Tokyo-3, his parents had worked at an unspecified research laboratory located there. When Shinji was nearing his fourth year however, the records regarding a certain event were sparse.
While it was true his mother had passed away shortly before he found himself left at the train station, the exact nature of the passing was unexplained. It was classified as an industrial accident, no further explanations, and no investigations. It felt like a homicide case.
He had searched further, digging through records of just what research laboratory they were working at and its nature, looking for witnesses and previous workers who were involved. That was the 2nd discrepancy. No senior staff who had worked for the GEHRIN Genetics lab had ever left. Either that or died in accidents. There was also mention of a suicide by one of the senior staff although the details were also lacking. After that particular bit of information, nothing further could be found.
Additionally, he had been forbidden from investigating further by none other than his superior and friend Nakamura. He scowled at the memory.
XXXXX
"What do you mean cease my investigations???" Fujiwara practically exploded. The office was deserted, its only occupants a fuming detective and the section chief.
"It is exactly as I said Fujiwara. You are hereby ordered to cease your investigations on the GEHRIN Genetics laboratory and its staff." Calm as ever, Nakamura tried to reason with his friend. "This order comes from straight up. Its probably sensitive government research anyway."
Fujiwara wasn't having any of it though, "Listen, sensitive research or not, how do you explain the death of a pair of senior research staff under highly suspicious circumstances?! No body was ever recorded for the first death and it was classified as an industrial accident." He threw his hands in the air. "What kind of industrial accident can you suffer in a genetics laboratory that leaves no body?"
The section chief raised his hand, cutting off Fujiwara's tirade. "As much as you want to Fujiwara, I cannot let you continue like this anymore. Orders are orders. Cease your investigations and let the Tokyo-3 authorities handle it." He shook his head. "If you continue, I will have no choice but to suspend you from the force. Please understand when I say that this is better for all of us"
Fujiwara gritted his teeth, biting off his words. "I understand"
XXXXX
He had been discrete, but apparently not discrete enough, with his inquiries. He had gained the attention of someone...or something. And it didn't want to be found.
He continued his investigations, only in a manner more discrete than he had ever done so before. But the leads had dried up. The clues vanished. He kept going; convinced that something important was hidden. That was when he received an anonymous tip-off.
[Come alone to the front of the Iino warehouse tomorrow at 3pm. You will find your answers there.]
The timing of the call, its convenience , its very nature, all of it raised his paranoia. Most likely, it was a trap. But without any leads left, he had to take the chance. He had taken precautions, preparing for the worse. If he was wrong, at least it would be without regrets. Above him, a light misting of rain began to fall from the darkened skies. [Rain again, where is that contact? I hope he gets here soon] As if the thought had conjured them, he heard light footsteps from behind him. Tightening his grip on a familiar object in his coat pocket, he turned around.
"You're late"
In the skies above them, the heavens let loose their fury and the rain fell in earnest.
XXXXX
Shinji sneezed. It was raining heavily and it was getting cold. Fortunately, the umbrella that Fujiwara had given him months ago kept the rain from soaking him. School had finished earlier and he was making his way to the cabin he called home. [Maybe I can visit Fujiwara-san later.]
In the past few months that he had known him, Fujiwara was the only person to praise him for something that he enjoyed doing. He had practiced hard and became better at the cello. He had grown to enjoy playing on the master-crafted cello in Fujiwara's flat and he had accommodated his requests to play on it.
His life it seemed, had taken a turn for the better. The cold treatment from his classmates and foster family and were easier to bear now and he occasionally smiled. He was not fully aware of it, but he had begun to consider the gruff detective as more of a father than his biological one or his uncaring replacement.
So lost in those precious few memories that he had, he almost failed to notice the hunched figure as it made its way down the other side of the street. [Is that Fujiwara-san?] He couldn't tell. With grey hair covering the figure's bowed head, it was impossible to get any details and the brown overcoat concealed the owners frame. Unnoticed, he watched as the figure forced open the door of an empty shop lot and entered, the right hand pressed against its side.
Shinji was concerned. The figure seemed to have been in pain. Fujiwara had told him that aid should be given to others whenever possible. Bolstered by those words, he strengthened his conviction and followed, hoping to be able to do as he had been encouraged too.
END OF CHAPTER 02
XXXXX
A/N: As usual post your reviews, comments, and whatnot