"Don't push him."
These were words that Misato repeated at least twice daily, usually with her eyes closed.
"We don't have time."
Those were words that Namika growled at least twice daily, usually with a face lined with frustration.
And Ritsuko was on the receiving end of both.
Don't push him—well, that was excellent advice, as they certainly didn't want him to run off again, but the consequences were not at all feasible. We don't have time—well, that too was growing increasingly clear, but strapping Shinji down on a table by force and drawing out his bone marrow was not appealing either.
She passed her few moments of spare time in the Japanese garden of the NERV hospital, which was beginning to show some furry buds despite the bitterly cold weather. Ritsuko squatted on a dry rock beside the frozen waterfall, tucking a stray tendril of hair behind her ear.
She didn't know what Gendo had said to his son. Ritsuko remembered the first time that Shinji had run away, after his initial piloting experiences. He was an eccentric one, that was for sure; nevertheless, he had come far in the last half year. To think that it all might have been a waste, that he would run away again…
"Ritsuko."
Namika was bundled up in a large brown overcoat, almost all of her face hidden beneath the fake-fur lined hood. Her eyes were downcast, her dark eyelashes coated with frosted moisture, and Ritsuko could only think of one word to describe them; bleak, devoid of any happiness.
"He's staying," she informed the blonde doctor. The coat muffled her voice and the wind snatched away at the remaining sound.
"He doesn't want to stay."
Namika said nothing. They both knew it was true.
"Sometimes—" Ritsuko broke off, looking into the distance beyond the trees. There was a loud screech as somebody slammed on their brakes on the road, then a series of angry beeps. She blinked and looked at her feet, clad in the usual black heels. "…I wish I could just take him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him."
Namika reached up with a gloved hand and drew her hood down a bit so that she could speak audibly.
"Did you know Misato went to visit the Fourth's sister?"
"No."
Namika recounted the story as she had watched from the doorway.
"You're Sorhyu Asuka Langley. My brother told me about you."
Misato tugged consciously at her hair and laughed at the girl's condescending tone. "No, I'm not Asuka. This is a wig, see?"
"Oh." Michika Suzuhara's eyes widened as if she were suddenly terrified of being in the presence of a stranger. "Who are you, then?"
"I'm Misato Katsuragi. Did your brother tell you about me too?"
"He said you had pretty purple hair. Where is it?"
"Well, it's all gone now," Misato told her, and she could not keep the note of wistfulness out of her voice. "I'm getting treatment for cancer. It makes your hair fall out."
Michika considered this. "So you're a patient here too?"
"Yes."
"Like me?"
"Yes."
The little girl smiled, immediately warming up. She plucked an old faded stuffed animal from beneath her blanket and held it up to Misato proudly. "This is Mai!"
"She's beautiful," Misato told her, reaching over to stroke the bear's head affectionately. "When I was your age I didn't have any stuffed animals. I liked to play with paper dolls."
"I don't like paper dolls," Michika said candidly, and then in a grown-up tone added, "They tear very easily."
"That's true. Where did you get Mai?"
Michika held the bear close to her, burying her face in its fur. She did not look at Misato as she said quietly, "My mommy bought her for me."
Misato remembered the Fourth Child file that Ritsuko had shown her and felt guilty for instigating the memory of their mother.
"Do you know Shinji?" Michika asked, steering the subject away. "Shinji Ikari?"
"Yes, he lives with me."
"Touji said he could save your life," Mika whispered with large eyes, as if she were telling Misato a poignant secret. "Is that true?"
"Well…yes…it is."
She thought quickly, trying to find a way to simplify the complicated biology behind it all to a point where the little girl would be neither confused nor bored, but Michika was satisfied with that answer. She hugged her bear again and proclaimed proudly, "Someday I want to be a doctor, so I can save people too."
Valentine's Day.
It was lunchtime. Asuka discovered a large stack of valentines in her box from boys—some she knew, some she didn't, but it made no difference—she threw them all away without a glance. Only one piece of paper held her attention, the one she clenched in her hand now, and it had not come from her mailbox.
She opened her hand. The red ink had stained her palm. Gingerly she unfolded it.
Names: Sorhyu Asuka Langley, Suzuhara Touji
Project: Nuclear Chemistry
Grade: 105
Despite the grade, she felt absolutely no elation at seeing it.
"Miss Sorhyu."
Asuka crushed the paper in her hand and composed herself as she whirled around to face the speaker. She didn't recognize him. He reached out and took her hand, placing in it a large heart-shaped chocolate wrapped with pink tin foil. Asuka was temporarily too shocked to reply, as none of the boys had been so bold.
"I… I don't want it… I've…"
He simply bowed and left her standing there.
"GAHH!"
Asuka smashed the rounded part of the chocolate at the metal locker. Apparently the candy was solid throughout, as it developed hardly a dent. Asuka tossed it into her bag and returned to her desk, removing a standard gray lunchbox with the word NERV stamped across the front. She missed Shinji's lunches, but food was the last thing on Shinji's mind nowadays.
Hikari sat beside her, eating in conscious little bites. She kept her eyes focused on her bento and did not speak. Asuka glanced at her and noticed that her lower lip wavered hesitantly before each bite.
"Eat this," she ordered, pushing the heart-shaped chocolate at her friend. "It'll make you feel better."
Hikari laid down her chopsticks and touched her napkin to her lips, but left the chocolate.
"He doesn't like me, Asuka. He never will now. He… he doesn't think he's worth anything anymore." Her eyes filled dangerously. "He wanted to me to tell his sister that he was fine. He—" Hikari's voice broke and she fumbled for words. Asuka, in a moment of humane compassion, reached out and let the Class Representative cry on her shoulder.
"They'll be able to sort him out," she said bracingly. "Think about all the injuries Shinji and Wonderg—Rei's gone through."
"Shinji's never lost a leg, has he?" Hikari whispered savagely. A moment later she quickly added, "I don't care if he never plays basketball again, if he never wins another race—he's still… Suzuhara…" Tears leaked from both eyes and she blotted at them with the back of her hand. "But I can't make him see that…"
Asuka didn't know what to say, so she remained silent. Hikari picked up the broken conversation again, quietly venturing, "Speaking of Shinji, how's he doing?"
"He's—" Asuka broke off abruptly, having been about to call him the usual names. "He's doing fine. He would probably have wandered into some alley and frozen to death if you didn't take him in that day…thanks..."
Hikari's head moved ever so slightly. Asuka took it to be a small chuckle.
When the bell rang again to signal the start of class, Asuka was still quietly stroking Hikari's hair. The latter held back a sniffle, quickly sat up and announced, "Rise… bow… sit!"
She sat back down and smiled bravely at Asuka, who returned the gesture, feeling oddly grateful that Shinji had not been injured nearly as badly as Touji.
"Unfamiliar ceiling…"
Shinji grasped a wad of white bedsheet tightly in his fist, then let it fall. There was no point in giving him a stereotypical hospital room when he wasn't physically ill; he had instead been placed in a small windowless room just off the main hospital corridor. It was simple—bed, toilet, bare walls and floor. Shinji could not understand why such a room had been built into the building, except for the purposes of keeping runaway pilots such as himself within NERV control.
Runaway pilot.
That's what you are.
"So what if I ran away?" Shinji muttered dully to himself. "I'm back, aren't I? I'm back to be exploited by my father."
…but you ran away again…
Shinji held his forehead in his hands as Asuka's face swam into view.
Baka! You're always running away from things! Why don't you act like a man and learn to face them?
Her angry expression, accented by the jabbing finger, melted into Rei'scalm, emotionless face. She uttered only one word.
Ikari…
Her face disappeared in turn and was replaced by Kensuke's, one eye hidden behind the camera.
Hey, Shinji! Do you think Misato-san will let me pilot it? I'd be a good pilot! Will you ask her for me?
"You don't understand," Shinji raged through clenched teeth at the Kensuke in his mind. "You have absolutely… no … damn idea… what it's like… to have your hands manipulated, to kill your best friend!"
He was shouting now, tears streaming down his face, but he no longer cared. Shinji slammed his fist against the wall, half hoping that it would give way to his anger, but the granite absorbed it and remained silent. He punched it again, this time the knuckles making direct contact. The crack resounded around the room.
"Don't tell me… you want to pilot that… that thing…"
Breathing heavily, Shinji backed away from the wall, rubbing his sore hand. Unfortunately, he was none too aware of the lamp nearby, and a moment later crashed into it. The lamp toppled to the ground and smashed, its dim lightbulb breaking into glass shards on the floor and draping Shinji in darkness.
"Dammit…"
He felt his way to the bed, still angry, and turned away from the broken lamp. He was suddenly cold; the shouting had taken the energy out of him. Shinji drew the thin blanket over himself and curled up into a ball, unable to desist shivering, forcibly reminding himself of the wretched hours he had spent at Hikari's house before NERV agents had overtaken him.
Why don't you tell me about it? You'll feel better once you get it out.
"Liar," Shinji whispered, his fists clenched. Even as he did so, he knew it wasn't fair of him to say such things; Hikari had clearly done her best by him.
He lay there in silence and darkness, unaware of time. When somebody opened the door and cautiously called out his name, he chose to remain motionless and pretended to be asleep.
Rei had been largely ignored in the last few weeks. She did not mind, of course; for much of her life, she had been treated so, and she welcomed the chance to simply observe.
Pilot Sorhyu was not happy. She knew this from the nightly walks that she took to clear her mind whenever sleep did not come to her. She knew what the girl had allowed few others to know; she had heard the Second's tearful mumblings as she dreamt of her mother. Nowadays, however, her talk took on other tones and subjects—she worried in her sleep over topics that she did not discuss in consciousness; many times Rei had heard Misato and Pilot Ikari's names mentioned. She was also perfectly aware that there seemed to be a budding relationship between Pilot Sorhyu and Pilot Ikari that was never able to develop due to circumstances beyond their control.
He is not Pilot Ikari now, Rei reminded herself placidly, as she walked slowly down the hallway. She stripped away the title.
Ikari. Just Ikari.
A nurse passed her in the hallways, hurrying, always hurrying; she paid the blue-haired girl no attention and Rei did the same to her. The nurses did not mind her nightly walks, as long as she was in bed and ready for her daily checkup and bath.
Rei looked at her left hand. It bore no bandages now and showed no signs of damage unless she tried to move it. She had still not regained full function in her left arm and the therapists continued to insist upon physical exercises, performed on a daily basis. Rei found them repetitive and tedious, but she did them, as she was ordered to.
She came to the miniscule waiting room. NERV liked to keep its functions secret and therefore did not encourage large numbers of family members to crowd its hospital while a relative underwent an operation. However, it had an enormous glass window that made up all of one side, and Rei had often liked to look outside and think to herself over her daily observations. She preferred to come at night, when the lights were turned off and there were no glares from the light bulbs on the glass panes. Tonight she pressed her good hand against the window and instinctively flexed her other hand. It tired after only two repetitions, and she was uncomfortably aware that some fingers were more sensitive than others. It occurred to her that as long as these symptoms remained, she would stay in the NERV hospital. Normally The Commander would not have ordered it so, but as the Second and—Ikari—were already staying, there would be no harm in keeping the First as well.
She heard voices outside but did not move. They would not come to chase her out. Rei looked through the open door and saw from the lady's silhouette that it was the doctor in charge of Misato's case.
She knew, of course, that Ikari had become somewhat of a recluse since being retrieved from Class Representative Horaki's home. What she had observed, however, was that the doctor appeared to have abandoned hope for Ikari and resorted instead to The Commander. Rei assumed that this was due to the fact that time was rapidly running out, and she felt a burning knot of misery and annoyance in her stomach that she could not be the one to save Misato.
The glass was cold. Rei pulled her hand away. It was mid-March, she remembered. The days would start to grow soon.
But hope for Misato did not.
And then there was the everlasting threat of an impending Angel attack.
Rei sat down beside the glass and pulled her legs to her chest. Her left arm ached dully and she massaged the shoulder joint with her other hand, glancing sideways through the window as she did so. In the darkness there was nothing except for a dark smudge of treetops and above that, a few glimmering stars.
Water. He'd forgotten to fill up his water bottle, dammit. Not that he didn't forget a lot of things recently.
Shinji climbed sideways out of his bed and swiped the plastic bottle off the bedside table. It was gray and wrapped in a standard sheet of gray foam with the letters NERV stamped across it horizontally in darker gray. Shinji covered the word with his hand, then ambled over to the fountain on the other side of the room. It was broken and made churning sounds when he pressed the button. He sighed, turned, and decided that his only alternative was the water fountain on the other end of the hallway.
He had taken only a few steps when he heard it—
"Ikari Shinji!"
Shinji whirled around, the high-pitched feminine voice taking him by surprise. It couldn't be Misato – her room was in the other hallway, and Asuka would never call him in such a format manner.
Who else then?
He was still standing in the hallway, perplexed, when the voice called out again, this time tentatively—"Shinji-kun?"
Shinji held his breath and poked his head into the nearest room. A little girl of no more than six waved back eagerly at him.
"Shinji-kun! I knew it was you! My brother told me all about you!"
"Y-your brother?"
And then it hit him. This was Touji's sister. Touji's dark hair, his brown eyes, his thick eyebrows, softened to fit a young female face.
"Sit," Michika pointed commandingly to the bench, but quickly added, "please?"
Something told Shinji that she just might start crying if he didn't, so he did—albeit reluctantly.
"You go to school with my brother."
"Err…yeah…"
"And you work with him."
"Yeah."
Michika lapsed into silence. Shinji waited, already dreading her next question. He knew that Touji had asked Hikari not to tell his sister of his circumstances…if she asks me, Shinji thought desperately, I won't tell her either…
"I have a question."
"Go ahead…"
Michika leaned close. "Is—" she paused to make sure the words rolled off her tongue properly: "—Sorhyu Asuka Langley as mean as Touji says she is?"
"No," Shinji said impulsively. "Well…"
"Touji says she hit him!" Michika whispered, her eyes wide as saucers.
"Well, yes… she hit me too…"
"Then she must be mean!" Michika crossed her arms, ending the discussion.
Shinji, who was fervently hoping that Asuka wouldn't happen to pass by and hear the conversation, felt that he ought to defend the Second—but he couldn't find anything to say, so he remained silent.
Michika, sensing his reluctance, quickly piped up, "Misato came to visit me yesterday!"
Misato.
The word sent an uncomfortable shiver throughout Shinji's body.
Misato—
—leukemia—
—blood testing—
—bone marrow—
—d—
"I heard you're the only one that can save her," Michika said matter-of-factly.
—save her—
"You haven't changed your mind, have you? My brother says—"
—her life—
"—a good boy who always tried to help others—"
Touji.
"Misato-san sure is pretty, huh?"
"I bought this cap just for today, Misato-san!"
"Shinji-kun?"
Shinji looked up into Michika's big, round brown eyes, filled with worry.
"Yeah," he muttered, "I have to go."
Namika was testing samples with the help of an assistant when the door burst open. The assistant screamed, and Namika scolded her for losing her head.
"You could've lost the samples," she reprimanded. "Yes, …Pilot Ikari."
"I'm not the Third Child anymore," Shinji ground out through clenched teeth. "Don't address me like that—"
The curtain behind the doctor rustled, and The Commander stepped out, robed only loosely in a blue-and-white hospital gown. The classic gloves and glasses were gone, yet his stare remained; the scene would have almost been comical had the situation not been so tense.
"Why are you here?"
"Because—because I have to save Misato," Shinji breathed hurriedly. He was suddenly very panicked; he was sure that time was running out—already he had wasted several weeks. What a stupid question! He wanted to push his father aside and plead his case instead with the doctor, but she hovered behind The Commander, afraid to interfere—
"And your piloting duties?"
It took a moment for the question to register in Shinji's mind, but his response came automatically, as if everything besides the transplant was controlled by autopilot.
"I'm not piloting anymore."
Pause.
It was apparent to Namika that The Commander was clearly displeased with his son, and it seemed that he was weighing two consequences in his mind—allowing his son to stay solely for the purpose of rescuing his prized Major, and sending him away in order to concentrate all NERV authority in finding a replacement pilot. Misato herself had said that pilots were replaceable, after all… but good Majors were not. A muscle tensed in his cheek, and Namika prepared herself for his proclamation.
None came. He simply nodded to her and stepped out of the room.
"Dr. Ishiyama?" Her assistant broke the silence tentatively. "The samples—they need to be refrigerated—"
Namika looked down and realized that she had tightened her grip considerably on the vial, bringing up its temperature. She sighed and tossed it into the biohazard box.
"Now that he's here, we won't need that sample anyway. Shinji—"
"Yes?"
His words were tripping over hers in hastened desperation. Namika breathed, thanking the Lord for this unexpected good fortune, and forced herself to calm down. There was a calendar posted just behind Shinji's left ear and she focused on one block of the page, labeled March 26.
"We can't do it right now?" Shinji asked, looking crestfallen as he read her mind.
Namika shook her head. "We need to get Misato restarted on a chemotherapy course first—crisantaspase or mercaptopurine, Misumi—" the assistant hurried away into the back room: "—for at least a week. Let's set the date of the transplant for March 26."
"That's…nine days away," Shinji said. "You think she'll last that long?"
The assistant returned and placed a small package into Namika's outstretched hand.
"Yes, I do."
Shinji turned to leave, but paused just beside the door.
"Please… hurry."
"I'm proud of you, Third."
Shinji didn't feel like telling her to drop the Third. They were gathered in Asuka's room, sitting on her bed. Her room was smaller than his and didn't have a water fountain, functioning or not. He traced a pattern on the bed sheet.
"It is I, Sorhyu Asuka Langley, who is speaking to you—why aren't you acting more happy?" Asuka asked, a weak attempt to humor the statement that had before drawn fear and shame from the boy sitting in front of her. Instead of shying away, Shinji smiled, and Asuka did so in return.
"You know that I'm not going to pilot again," he said, without meeting her eyes.
"Suit yourself." She looked away. "Do whatever pleases you, Third—I mean, Shinji." Asuka paused. "You've done enough for others."
"I haven't done anything," Shinji mumbled, confused by this statement.
"Yes you have. You tutored me in Japanese. You cooked and cleaned after us without complaint. And you're going to save Misato. Think of yourself, for once."
"Er… okay…"
Asuka sighed, took him by the shoulders, and wheeled him around to face her. "Shinji—no, look at me—now, tell me: after Misato's well again, what's the first thing you want to do?"
Shinji looked at the depth of her blue eyes and blushed.
Asuka shook him. "Tell me, dammit!"
He took a gamble. "I-I want to go somewhere with you."
Her hands dropped from his shoulders.
"I-It's not like that!" Shinji's hands flew up in protest. "Well, maybe it is… but you don't have to go if you don't want to, really! Forget I said—"
"Don't be like that," she cut him off. "Of course I'm going—now where do you want to go?"
"I don't know…"
She shook him again.
"Uh, maybe out to dinner? Or a movie?"
"That sounds nice." She relaxed her grip. "Okay, now you've promised—no backing out!"
"Okay…"
There was a brief pause, and she changed the subject. "I want to go home, don't you?" Her tone became nostalgic as she folded her feet beneath her legs Indian-style. "I want to play that training game… I even miss Pen-pen, that damned penguin."
"Who's taking care of him now?"
"Hikari. By the way, she dropped by yesterday and brought you this." Asuka reached into the small leather purse she kept on her bedside table and pulled out Shinji's SDAT. Shinji took it gratefully from her and quickly turned it on. Asuka took one of the earphones from him while requesting, "Mind if I listen?"
"No."
Asuka lay back, forcing Shinji to mimic her motions as the headphones were connected—she wore one in her right ear, and Shinji the other in his left. The sound was mellow and made her ache for Germany. She snuggled closer to Shinji and placed her head against his shoulder. If he noticed or minded, he had no reaction.
Du weißt, ich werde immer ehrlich zu dir sein
Und du weißt, ich bin derjenige
An den du dich wenden kannst
Jederzeit, überall und irgendwo
Du weißt, ich werde immer da sein
"Please sit down."
Namika had not expected him to bring the girl, and for some reason this annoyed her. Of course, her own experiences and Ritsuko's descriptions had left a firm impression in her mind that the Second was nothing short of, well, irritating.
She took a seat beside him and focused intently on the doctor.
"I'd like to begin by first asking you if you have any questions, Shinji."
He shook his head, but the Second took the initiative, laying her hand on the table.
"What are the chances of success?"
Namika reined her frustration and made eye contact with Shinji instead. "Given the fact that you're not related to Misato, your HLA markings are remarkably similar and indicate a good chance of success. However, there are many other factors that can affect Misato's post-surgical recovery—for example, her immune system will be completely eliminated in order to impede rejection of your bone marrow, so for those days she'll be very susceptible to disease."
Shinji nodded, but the girl frowned and said, "You haven't really answered my question, Doctor."
Namika glared at her. "60."
She nodded.
Deciding that she would only elicit more questions from the Second if she allowed them to voice their concerns, Namika swept into a general explanation of the allogeneic transplant. Her hands moved rapidly in abstract gestures; Shinji nodded repeatedly, but the girl had no expression on her face. Namika plowed on. It was Shinji, not her, after all, who was going to be the donor.
"The procedure will be the same as the one Misato had, right?"
"Yes," Namika said matter-of-factly, pleased now that Shinji was saying something. "There's no surgery involved—just a few punctures, and you'll be under general anesthesia. You'll probably be sore for a few days. We'll have pain medication on hand."
Shinji nodded again. "I remember."
"Good." The doctor glanced at her watch. "It's March 20 today. I want you to stay in the hospital, Shinji, while I run a couple of tests to make sure that everything's in order."
"Yes ma'am."
"That's all, if you have no more questions."
Namika voiced her last comment with apprehension, expecting the Second to respond. Instead, the two pilots—no, Shinji was no longer a pilot, she reminded herself—rose in unison from their chairs. Shinji thanked her. Namika said it was no problem. She watched as they slipped unnoticed into the quiet hallway and watched with surprise as Asuka leaned over and gently took Shinji's hand into her own.
Rei was elated.
It didn't show in her steps as she climbed evenly up the stairs to her room. Her left fingers locked tightly over her schoolbag, and her sensible shoes made hardly a sound on the granite surface, but she allowed the faintest of smiles to grace the curve of her lips.
She had been officially discharged from the hospital—but they were keeping Ikari in order to run a battery of tests on him.
Ikari, Rei thought. Not Pilot Ikari anymore. Just Ikari.
But it didn't matter, because it was all going to work out. He was going to save Misato after all.
Tomorrow.
Rei turned her doorknob and entered, ignoring the various envelopes with "Postmarked March 25" stamped on them as they fell from her cluttered box to the floor. Nothing but advertisements—nobody sent her mail. She headed straight for her bed and removed her shoes, then stretched on the faded sheets.
I am lucky to be home. Ikari does not have that pleasure.
She lay on her back for some time, listening to the traffic through her open window.
Her gaze fell eventually on the clock—it was nearly six, so Rei clambered off the bed and headed to the kitchen to begin the process of making dinner. She was used to cooking simple meals for herself, but she had not done it many days, and tonight she was not particularly hungry…
She decided instead that Ikari did not deserve the miserable hospital meals he would be getting tomorrow after the transplant.
So she cooked for him.
There was nothing unspoiled in the refrigerator besides potatoes and rice. She peeled potatoes while standing at the sink, sweeping the dark peel away from the white flesh in long strips. Her hand slipped on the handle of the potato peeler and it fell to the ceramic floor with a clatter; Rei picked it up and washed it, feeling eerily as if someone were watching her.
"So you can actually cook. I'm impressed."
Rei knew who it was before she turned around, but it was still a surprise to see Pilot Sorhyu standing in her doorway, leaning casually against the soiled wall.
"I forgot to close the door," Rei muttered. It was not an apology or a greeting; Rei did not really know what it was—just a comment made to fill the silence.
The Second came closer and inspected the various pots and pans laid over her counter. "Interesting… I couldn't really see you cooking so elaborately…"
Rei bit her lip. "I am cooking for Ikari."
"For Shinji?"
"Yes," Rei said, a faint heat creeping up into her cheeks. She did not like being put on the spot in this fashion—she knew that there were mutual feelings between the girl in front of her and her ex-fellow pilot, but she did not know how to make it clear that she did not like him in that way. Meekly she added, "I did not want for him to have to eat the hospital food."
Asuka's features softened. "Hey, I want to help… have you got any flour? Eggs? Fresh apples?"
Rei had none of any of the necessary ingredients, having not lived at home for over a month. Asuka picked up her bag and announced that she was going shopping.
It is interesting…to have Pilot Sorhyu working in the kitchen as we prepare food for Ikari, Rei thought as Asuka reentered her home only ten minutes later, laden down with two grocery sacks.
"Hey, your oven does work, right?"
Rei opened it for her, and Asuka peered suspiciously into its depths. It had apparently never been used, but she didn't see any reason why it wouldn't function properly. She took one of Rei's bowls and poured white flour into it, then mixed in a few spoonfuls of melted butter and an egg.
"Will the nurses not question your absence?" Rei asked gently. She placed her potatoes onto a cutting-board and cut slices of identical thickness.
Asuka shrugged. "I've been discharged too."
"I see."
Rei worked silently; while the potatoes simmered on the stove, she soaked a small pot of rice and set it to boil as well. It occurred to her that even if she herself was not hungry, Pilot Sorhyu would almost certainly expect to stay for a meal; and so she added some more rice to the pot.
Asuka raised her eyebrows. "I wasn't planning to eat here."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize. You sound like Shinji, pre—pre—" Asuka gave up and let the comment hang as she reached for a napkin. "I'm making enough turnovers for all three of us."
Rei stood frozen to the spot. She had not expected Pilot Sorhyu to feed her—in her own kitchen!
"Pilot Sorhyu—"
Asuka whirled around. "Asuka. Just Asuka, okay? Ouch! Damn—"
She had cut her finger. Rei, who had no shortage of bandages, wrapped it up for her. Asuka thanked her meekly, and seeing that she was standing idle while her food cooked, mentioned the asparagus she had purchased and asked if Rei would like to help her with it.
Obediently, Rei cut the spears while Asuka fussed over her apple filling—and finally satisfied, slipped the pan into the preheated oven.
"You care about Shinji a lot, don't you?" Asuka asked, measuring out teaspoons of olive oil. "Or you wouldn't be going to all this trouble for him."
Flustered, Rei replied, "I care for him, yes… but not in the way that you do, Asuka…"
Asuka blinked. "I see." She paused, blinking again as if she were deep in thought—then returned to the oil, blushing and muttering softly to herself, "Yes, I guess I do care…" Her expression changed again as she quickly pulled over a plate. "Put the asparagus on here…and I think your potatoes are done."
Twenty minutes later, the two girls settled down to their meal. Rei was unused to what seemed such a lavish affair and did not know how to begin until Asuka reached into her grocery bag and pulled out a pack of disposable plastic containers. She filled one with asparagus and potatoes; following her example, Rei filled two more with rice and apple turnovers. The crisp crust crumbled under her fingertips. Asuka put the four containers in the refrigerator.
They sat on Rei's bed to eat, as the only table was dusty and covered with bloody bandages. Each balanced a plate on her lap, and neither spoke. Slowly, the sun lowered itself until it was no longer visible behind the edifices of Tokyo-3.
Asuka stood up reluctantly. "I should go."
Rei rose as well. "I will accompany you home."
"Don't—I'll be fine. Just don't forget Shinji's food tomorrow. And thanks for the meal."
"You're welcome."
The words were out of her mouth before she knew it. Rei was surprised at herself. Had she really said it? 'You're welcome'?
"So I'll see you first thing at the hospital tomorrow?"
"Yes, I will be there."
"See you then."
Rei waited until Asuka's footsteps were no longer audible on the steps. She closed the door slowly and locked it, then did the same with her windows. The room was suddenly devoid of excitement. Feeling as if she had just experienced a real treat which was now coming to an end, Rei made her way slowly to the bed, picked up the two empty plates, and headed for the kitchen.
Author's Note: Short chapter. I'm posting the rest of this story now, so not much to say in this note—just one thing: I know the summary has been bothersome in that it gives away a good part of the story, and I've gotten a good number of reviews asking me to change it. I've held out because I haven't wanted to hint at all at what would be coming in the last chapter(s), but the next part will be somewhat unpredictable—or so I hope. Anyway, I've added a small edit to the summary, hopefully not giving too much away.
The song that I used in this chapter is the German version of "The Gift" by Brosis. Having absolutely no knowledge of the German language other than the fact that "Seele" means "soul", I randomly selected a song and a stanza and had a German-speaking friend translate it for me. It comes out to something along the lines of "You know, I will always be honest with you, and you know, I am the one you can turn to, anytime, all over, anywhere, you know I will always be there…"
(I really did intend, once upon a time, to get the rest of this story churned out by March 26—my apologies, yet again.)
