EDIT: As of February 11, 2005, this chapter has been edited. Mostly just some rewording and little grammatical fixes.
Okay… since the very beginning of this chapter sucked (hell, it was quite possibly the most painfully crappy and unoriginal thing I have ever written), I decided to just reach in and rip it apart. All you really need is the main idea anyway; she gets the damn sword. Period. Ooh, "spoilers," boo-hoo. Cry about it :P
Kill Gendou Vol. 2
Okinawa, Japan
Three Weeks Later
Asuka pushed aside the cheap silk curtain and stepped over the threshold into the cozy little sushi parlor, dressed in a pale yellow sun dress not unlike the one she wore frequently as a child. A short, unimposing Japanese sushi chef stood behind the counter, polishing a glass, an apron hanging loosely over his small torso. It was stained in several places and a bit too large, giving him an almost comical appearance. He glanced up at the prospective customer as she entered, stepping daintily toward the counter.
"H-Hallo?" he asked, stuttering in his English, obviously unfamiliar with the language.
She smiled shyly at him, flashing her perfectly white teeth and cute dimples in his direction as she stepped up to the counter.
"English?" he asked simply, greeting her with a warm smile of his own.
"Sure," she replied amicably in perfectly fluent Japanese. "Why the hell not?"
The little man frowned in confusion. In a flurry of motion, she reached over and snatched the little man up by the collar, slamming his face down onto the countertop. Vaulting over the barricade to join him on the other side, she slammed his head down for a second time, careful to keep him alive and conscious.
"Are you Hattori Hanzo?" she demanded.
The man stuttered incoherently. Asuka snatched up his arm, twisting it painfully around behind his back, mashing his face down into the countertop.
"I said, are you Hattori Hanzo?" she repeated, more forcefully this time.
The man nodded, grimacing in pain. A second sushi chef came running in from the kitchen to investigate the commotion, clutching a large butcher knife. Seeing his employer in such a predicament, he charged forward, lifting the knife threateningly.
Without releasing her hold on the first man, Asuka lashed out with a vicious kick to the newcomer's nose, eliciting a rather loud crack upon impact. The man went down hard, the knife tumbling from his limp grasp and clattering noisily against the cheaply-tiled floor. He lay still.
Asuka turned her attention back to the first man squirming helplessly in her grasp.
"So, your name is Hattori Hanzo. But are you the Hattori Hanzo?"
The man nodded again, desperate to get free of her grasp.
"And you make samurai swords?"
He stuttered again. Asuka lifted his head up, twisting his arm further, then slammed his head back down onto the counter, harder than before but still not hard enough to seriously impede his cognitive capacity.
"Now," she said calmly, injecting her voice with a hearty dose of malice. "Do you make samurai swords? Yes or no!"
"I- I am retired," he stammered.
Asuka dragged the man length-wise down the counter, crashing him face-first through cups, dishes, napkin holders, silverware, salt shakers, and the like. Reaching the end, she flung him into the wall, his shoulder slamming into the hard surface.
"You are now officially coming out of retirement," Asuka told him. "I will return in exactly thirty days. Whether the sword is ready or not, as well as its quality, will determine whether your life continues past that day. I leave the choice to you."
Smiling politely and giving him a slight, respectful bow, she turned and walked back through the curtain into the bright sunlight beyond.
Hattori Hanzo lay still where he had fallen, looking over at the comatose form of his assistant sprawled out on the floor, blood leaking from each nostril. He did not know who this girl was, or where she had come from, but there was one thing he did know for certain: he did not want to see her angry.
He closed his eyes, sighing. The choice was clear.
He would make the sword.
-
Seven Months Later
The Hanzo steel arced through the air, glinting in the lantern's dim light. Smoothly coming to a halt, it whipped back in the other direction.
Asuka eyed the meticulously folded steel, taking in its exquisite craftsmanship for what must have been the thousandth time. It was truly a magnificent weapon. The old man had said it was his finest creation, and she could find no reason to refute that claim. For the last six months she had never been more than a few feet from the blade. Even as she slept it had laid on the floor next her bedroll, well within her reach. It was not the result of excessive paranoia that had kept it thus, however, but rather a merging of selves. She strove not just to assimilate the sword as an extension of her body, but to become one with the sword, to incorporate it into her very being, to fuse with the instrument of death. Mind, body, soul, and sword, she would be the avatar of vengeance. She would be death incarnate.
Asuka gracefully returned the weapon back into its smooth wooden sheath, glancing around the run-down warehouse where she had been living in seclusion for the past half year, training and exercising her weakened body. She flexed her hand, closing the slender fingers into a fist and extending them again. Every muscle in her body felt taut; her every movement, fluid.
She was ready.
-
Two Weeks Later
Tokyo-3 NERV Personnel Habitation District
The yellow pickup tore around the corner and slid into the parking space, tires squealing and music blaring from its powerful speakers.
"…even mother will show you, nother way! So put your grasses on, nothing will be wong. There's no blame, there's no fame, it's up to y-"
The song cut off abruptly as Asuka turned the key back, shutting off the truck's engine and returning the surrounding area to its former tranquility. It was late afternoon, and most of the area's normal occupants were at work. The few citizens remaining in their homes were still inside, busily preparing for their night shift duties.
Asuka stepped casually out the driver's side door, gripping her katana by its sheath. The sound of the door closing echoed briefly about the deserted street, then faded to silence. Asuka gazed up at the apartment building looming before her, eyes focusing in on her objective. Eighth floor, Room 37. The dwelling of one Misato Katsuragi.
It had been difficult to track this woman down. Asuka had first visited the old apartment, where she had lived with Misato and Shinji. But it had turned up empty, forgotten, abandoned years ago.
Years ago…
Asuka ached for her lost time. She grieved for the childhood cut short, the innocence lost. One day she had been a fourteen-year-old girl; the next she was a 20-year-old murderer.
Asuka felt her pulse quicken in anticipation as she entered the lobby and headed for the stairwell. The elevator would have been faster, but NERV intelligence was everywhere. If she had somehow managed to attract their suspicion, the small, enclosed transport device could quickly transform into a steel death trap. Besides, she wanted to savor these moments. This was the beginning, the first step in her quest for vengeance. Each step she took literally brought her closer to her ultimate retribution.
-
The buzzer rang. Misato Katsuragi stepped over to the entryway, dressed in her usual red officer's jacket and uniform, and depressed the door's release button with her right index finger. The mechanism hissed as the door slid open.
Misato blinked.
There in the doorway stood Asuka Langley Sohryu, the Second Child, long assumed to be deceased. Her right hand still lingered by the buzzer, prepared to press it a second time if necessary. Her left arm hung limply at her side, clutching an impressive-looking samurai sword by its sheath.
Not a word was exchanged. The two women stared straight ahead, each locked with the other's gaze. Seconds passed slowly, dragging on into hours. Asuka's eyes burned with the lust that consumed her, the lust for vengeance. Her heart cried for blood, the blood of this backstabbing-
Lieutenant, Asuka noted, noticing the pips on the shoulder of Misato's jacket. Things had certainly changed over the last five years.
Extracting a short, wickedly sharp combat knife from a small scabbard at her right hip, Asuka struck, drawing a line of blood across her former guardian's cheek.
Misato jerked back from the blow, fumbling for her sidearm. Asuka slashed at her again, the tip of her knife passing centimeters from Misato's throat as she stumbled backwards, still grasping for her own weapon. Desperately evading Asuka's continued assault, Misato finally felt her palm close around the weapon's grip. Ducking a fierce horizontal swipe, she quickly drew the pistol and pointed it straight at the vindictive redhead's chest.
Asuka dove to the side as the weapon fired, twin bullets ripping into the wall where she had been just a split-second before. Misato tracked her aim over to the side, squeezing off a few more shots. Asuka kept her momentum, throwing her body to the side in a diving roll, pistol rounds ricocheting around her, missing by mere inches. One especially near miss impacted against the hilt of her sword, knocking the weapon from her grasp.
Misato kept firing, slugs ripping into the walls and furniture of her living room, spraying the air with a fine mist of plaster and shattered bits of glass. Coming up from her roll Asuka lunged behind the couch, using its wide frame to shield herself from the continued barrage.
Misato cursed the bulky piece of furniture that obscured her line of sight, concealing her foe. Pointing the gun at the sofa, she fired, scattering her shots to give the best chance of hitting her target. The rounds tore easily through the cushions' soft material, sending up geysers of stuffing and debris.
The sound of the last gunshot echoed briefly through the apartment, then faded away. Misato eased her finger off the trigger, lowering the firearm back in closer to her chest. The scattered debris from the ruined couch settled slowly to the floor, like a light snowfall. All was quiet; there was no sign of movement from anywhere in the room.
Slowly, Asuka rose from behind the sofa, her icy blue eyes locked on Misato. The Lieutenant met her gaze, raising the pistol back up, her aim locked in place.
The phone rang. Misato froze, glancing at it through the corner of her eye. Asuka smiled, gesturing towards the phone.
"Go ahead and take that, Misato. I wouldn't want you to miss your last phone call. Ever."
Misato moved over to the phone, slowly, still pointing the gun at Asuka, then lifted it from its wall-mounted receiver.
"Hello?" she said in her usual friendly voice, slightly out of breath. "Ah, hello Ritsuko. No, everything's fine. Yes. Of course I'll be there. Yes, he'll be there too. What about Rei? I haven't seen her in over a week, you know how independent she's become lately. The Commander is the only one who seems to know where she is. Yes. The wedding? Well, we haven't really given it much thought yet."
Asuka's eyes focused on a small, golden glint on Misato's hand that she had not noticed before. It was a ring; an engagement ring. That could only mean one thing.
You bitch, Asuka thought. But she would not back down. She had come too far.
"Yes," Misato continued, "that sounds wonderful. I'll be sure to let him know. Yes. Tonight? We just tested them last week. Yes, I know, Commander's orders. No, I don't have any plans. Sure. That sounds good. Of course, you know how he is. Yes. I'll see you later. Bye."
"You shouldn't lie over the phone like that, Misato. You won't be seeing her again. In fact, you won't be seeing anyone again. Ever."
"We'll see who's lying," Misato spat, tossing the phone away.
"Well, I suppose you will be reunited after all," Asuka conceded. "That is, once I'm finished sending the lot of you to hell."
"That's a pretty bold statement for someone about to die," Misato replied, indicating the pistol in her hand.
Asuka grinned.
"I might say the same thing," she countered. "You can go ahead and drop the gun, Misato. You're out of bullets."
Misato eyed the weapon in her hand, then looked back up at Asuka. Again her view shifted to the gun, then back to Asuka. Pointing the barrel straight at Asuka's head, she pulled the trigger.
Click. Asuka didn't even blink.
"I told you."
Misato snarled, pulling it several more times in succession.
Click. Click. Click.
She tossed the useless weapon aside in anger. Unarmed, she stared at Asuka.
"So what now?" Misato asked. "You just kill me?"
"That's the general idea. However, you were kind to me in the past. So, as a token of my heartfelt gratitude, I present you… with this."
Unsheathing a second knife from her hip, Asuka tossed the blade across the room. It clattered on the tile floor, coming to a rest at Misato's feet. Confused by the blend of biting sarcasm and candor in the younger woman's voice, Misato tentatively bent down to retrieve the fallen weapon, her eyes still locked on the Second Child. Grasping the hilt, she straightened, bringing the knife up in a ready stance.
Asuka's eyes flashed eagerly. She grinned.
"Let's go."
The two women circled each other, knives ready, waiting for an opening, searching for a gap in the other's defenses. Misato moved first, slashing in toward Asuka's throat. Asuka dodged, lashing out for a fatal blow of her own. Misato ducked, spinning around and hacking at the younger woman's exposed hip. Asuka twisted away, but her leg still caught the tip of the blade, slicing through her jeans and into the soft flesh of her thigh. She nimbly darted out of the way, grimacing as fresh blood leaked from the wound, soaking through the surrounding material.
The two combatants resumed their circling, blades at the ready, probing for weaknesses.
"Nice move," Asuka hissed.
"Thanks."
"Don't get too cocky. That was your one free shot; there's plenty more blood to be spilled today, and it isn't going to be mine."
Asuka lunged forward, her blade on a collision course with Misato's throat, but the agile lieutenant dodged easily. She frowned, confused by the weakness of the attack.
All was made clear, however, when Asuka's heel connected with her stomach, knocking her over backwards. The coffee table splintered beneath her weight as she crashed to the floor.
Asuka pounced, plunging her knife downward. Misato jerked to the side, and the stabbed deep into the hardwood floor. Asuka rolled away as Misato countered with her own weapon, and cursed as the handle slipped from her grasp, the blade still stuck fast in the floor.
Misato seized the opportunity, lunging at her unarmed foe. Asuka barely managed to grasp hold of Misato's forearms, bringing the older woman's attack to an abrupt halt just inches from her chest as they tumbled both tumbled to the floor, Asuka's back slamming painfully onto the unyielding wooden surface.
"Just give up," Misato hissed, pushing down harder on the blade.
Asuka put up quite a formidable resistance, but Misato had the greater leverage. Slowly but surely, the blade inched downward.
"Tell me," Asuka said through gritted teeth. "Why did you do it?"
"Why?" Misato panted, keeping the downward pressure on the knife. "I suppose it was the money. I got a promotion and a nice fat pay raise once you were gone. Not to mention the fact that they probably would have killed me too if I refused. Besides, after Ritsuko reminded me what a stubborn, self-centered bitch you were, it wasn't so hard letting go."
"Ah, yes, whoring yourself away as usual."
Misato smiled, unaffected by the insult.
"Perhaps; not that matters anyway. Soon you'll be dead… again."
Misato increased the downward pressure further, quickening the knife's painfully slow descent. Only a few more centimeters remained between the blade and Asuka's chest.
Asuka smiled, a grin of pure confidence.
"Next time you're trying to kill someone, maybe you should try shutting the hell up."
A look of confusion crossed Misato's face. Seizing the opportunity, Asuka pushed with all her might, pushing the knife's tip further away from her sternum, and slammed her forehead directly into Misato's face, knocking the older woman over.
Momentarily freed, Asuka scrambled away on all fours, snatching up her sword from where it had fallen. Leaping to her feet, she turned around just in time to block Misato's attack with its sturdy sheath. Misato kept up the assault, striking again and again with surprising speed, never giving Asuka the opportunity to unsheathe her sword.
Finally seeing an opening, Asuka dodged a deep thrust from Misato's knife and smashed the sturdy sheath straight into other woman's face. Misato fell back for a moment, stunned, blood dribbling from the corner of her mouth. Asuka jumped to her feet and stepped backward, trying to put enough distance between them to unsheathe her sword.
Her back bumped up against the wall less than three feet away. She cursed.
Quickly recovering from the impact, Misato rushed forward with renewed vigor, and Asuka once again found herself on the defensive. Only this time, her back was against the wall- literally.
Misato's movements were furious. Asuka could barely follow them, jerking the sheath over to block each attack. If this kept up, it was only a matter of time before she made a mistake.
Asuka thrust her sheathed blade forward, taking the offensive. This was a dangerous gamble, as Misato's small, unimpeded blade was far more maneuverable and deadly in close quarters than the bulky sword. One slip-up and it would easily find its way into her throat. Misato fell back, dodging and fending off the attacks
The combatants carried on, hacking and battering away at one another all over the living room. Furniture was smashed, fragile objects broken, fabric torn and cut. Beaten, cut, bruised, the two warriors fought on, leaving destruction in their wake.
Asuka pushed on in a surge of violence, forcing Misato back toward the kitchen. The older woman's foot caught on the divider where carpet and tile met, and she stumbled backwards into the room her shoes skidding on the smooth surface. Asuka pressed forward, but somehow Misato managed to recover, matching Asuka's attacks and even pushing her back a bit.
The kitchen quickly transformed into a war zone. Dishes smashed, cabinets splintered; instant ramen and other foodstuffs were strewn across the floor.
Asuka pummeled away at her opponent, driving her back toward the refrigerator. Asuka jerked the sword back above her head and swung it toward Misato's head with all the force she could muster.
The blow was too fast to dodge. Misato thrust her knife up to meet it, wood clashing against steel, then stumbled forward in surprise as the wood gave way, tumbling from Asuka's grasp.
Voluntarily, Misato realized, too late, as Asuka's arm continued its forward motion and slugged her had across the jaw. Misato flew backward, her head slamming into the refrigerator and slumped down against it, dazed, her knife tumbling off to the side.
Misato looked up at the Second Child through blurred vision, knowing her death would soon come.
No, she realized. She's not a child anymore.
Misato tried to smile, but found she could not seem to coordinate her thoughts and lips.
I really am a horrible guardian…
In one fluid motion, Asuka snatched the weapon out of the air, unsheathed it, and spun around, thrusting the sword straight out behind her. The blade struck Misato right in the forehead, punching through the back of her skull and imbedding itself in the refrigerator door.
Asuka allowed herself a small grunt of satisfaction. Releasing her grip on the sword, she turned, looking down at her former guardian's body. Misato's eyes stared lifelessly ahead, her jaw slack. Beer from punctured cans trickled out from beneath the refrigerator door, mingling with the blood that pooled around her corpse.
Putting a foot on Misato's chest, Asuka grasped the katana's hilt and yanked it free. Misato slid off the blade, slumping over to the side, her face splashing lightly into the gory fluid. More blood leaked from the hole in here forehead, spreading across the tile floor.
Wiping her sword on Misato's uniform jacket and returning it to its sheath, Asuka turned and walked over to the counter. Taking up a pen and a piece of paper, she scribbled a brief note. When she was finished, she smoothed the paper out on the counter and plucked a flower from a nearby vase. Placing the fresh blossom next to the note, she turned and strode from the apartment, closing the door behind her.
-
Later that day, a Mr. Ryouji Kaji opened that very same apartment door. He stopped, noticing the devastation that had swept through the living room. Stepping cautiously through the disaster area, he followed the path of destruction and moved on into the kitchen.
Turning the corner, he came upon the body of the former Miss Misato Katsuragi, slumped over in a puddle of her own blood and alcohol. He blinked. Noticing the flower and note laid out so neatly on the counter, he picked them up. He read the paper, his eyes scanning across the elegantly drawn kanji, absorbing its simple message.
"I'm sorry, Kaji."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxEND OF CHAPTERxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Woohoo, another one down! So what did you think? Not as long as the first one, I know, but there was less dialogue, so I suppose it sort of evens out. It's definitely better than it was before I edited it, though.
Unlike this author's note used to say, the next chapter will not involve any Rei/Asuka action (and like I said before, it's not that kind of "action," you perverts). Although both Rei and Asuka will be in it, and there will be plenty of action.
Thanks for reading; as always, let me know what you thought. Yay or nay?
-K.G.