The hot sun beats down upon the top of the hillside forest as the afternoon wore on. The trees that populate this place restrict the eye, making it so one can barely see past a mark of thirty feet. The different shades of green assault the senses—the lively green of the trees, the solemn green of the moss, the anxious green of the grass, the brooding green of the bush. These shades dazzle the eye, seemingly twisting the world around in a vibrant swirl. The nose is also perplexed at such diversity in the colors of the forest. So many, there are! So beautiful, they are! The nose wrinkles itself in spite of its owner's wishes, not accustom to the range of colors. It takes in these tints and shades, breathing deep, sucking in the air about it as a drowning man would. The nose is tickled by the torrent that is being thrown upon it. Oh, and the ears! The wind whispers to the leaves, telling them the story of far off lands—tales of love, of war, of friendship, of death, of hope, of strange people across the oceans. The leaves fight to be the first to hear the wind speak, pushing and rubbing against each other to be the highest on the branch. The wind is done with the stories for now, though, and rushes down the mountainside to greet the valleys and lakes below. A great and powerful whoosh is heard as it takes its leave. All of these factors combined makes for a dizzying experience to say the least, tossing the friendly hiker about in a barrage of beauty.
A great cacophony is heard as it echoes off of the trees, the sound bouncing about like a rubber ball thrown against a wall. The trees utter to themselves, He is not one of us; the moss considers a moment, then says, He is one who would hurt us; the grass glances about nervously, Who is it? Who's there? Dead sticks, dead grass, dead leaves crunch under the feet of Him as He makes his way farther and farther from the cut-out path He has strayed from. The leaves quick their quibbling and stare at Him, mimicking the grass' questions—Who is He? They call out to him, Why dost thou come? He turns a deaf ear to them, a blind eye to them. He is not one who would talk to the lowly leaves, the knavish moss, the heathen trees. He is one who is higher than such beings—His soul outshines the rest of theirs combined, and blindingly so.
The trees quickly come to a consensus, telling the moss that He Who Comes is not one who would destroy them, but one who has come to enjoy them. He Who Comes can hear us speaking, they say, but He does not understand our language. Nay fear, brother Moss—He is not here to pick at your body or tear up your home. The trees then console the grass, saying, Nay fear, sister grass—He Who Comes is not here to ravage you with evil, nor does He come with destructive intent. Calm thyself and let Him walk upon you, as he is restricted to that mode of transportation.
Settled down now, the forest greets He Who Comes with jubilant smiles, arms spread in welcoming. He notices not, hearing but Nature, seeing but Nature, smelling but Nature—nothing out of the ordinary, nothing queer nor strange. As the wise trees have said, He does not understand the language by which they speak—He takes it as this thing He calls Nature. Nature, in His mind, is one thing, one entity, that governs the plants, the water, the earth, the air, the weather. Nature, to the trees and moss and grass is that which is formed when every leaf, every blade of grass, every whisper of wind, every rock, and every drop of water joins together in a group mission to keep that which He calls "man" alive.
He saunters by and along the hillside he goes, searching for something, something—what, He knows not. Tired, He sits upon a felled tree, its trunk blackened by the scorch of lightening. The soot is rubbed off onto His pants, onto His hands as He leans heavy on one arm. He breathes in the sweet air of the wilderness, closing his eyes, smiling a small smile to himself.
"It's so nice to get away," Shinji said. "Away from the city, the noise, the people…" His smile broadened. "Being alone isn't such a bad thing, sometimes." The sounds of the forest inundated him as he relaxed on the dead tree. In the peace and quiet, Friday night's happenings flashed back into his memory. He saw the dinner he and Rei had, the movies they watched, and that wonderful kiss she gave him, all in a quick instant. That was so unexpected, he thought. Rei really has changed in the past few weeks. She used to be so…cold. I didn't want to ask her about it—she'd think I was weird if I had. But I felt so bad for her. Now, though, it's like she's a whole new person. She smiles, and even laughs now—stuff she'd never do a while back. He sighed, standing up and looking to the sky. It all started when she came to the apartment last weekend. She seemed so…excited about something, but she never said what; she got in that fight with Asuka before she could tell me anything.
Shinji began his hike once again, not heading for the trail yet. It was nice being up there where no one would find him, though it wasn't like anyone was looking for him. This made it so the already sheltering forest seemed to close in around him even more, protecting him, nurturing him.
And Asuka—she's also changed lately. She doesn't call me an idiot anymore; well, not as much as she used to. She also helps out a lot more with the chores, and with cooking. It's nice to have a helping hand, but I'm still not used to it. I still think that at some random moment, she'll get mad and slap me or something.
Stumbling upon a small hidden and secluded meadow, Shinji laid down on the fluffy grass. Among the waves of yellow and pink flowers he rested with his hands behind his head, looking into the clouds above. Wait, he thought, realization painted across his face. Both of the girls have changed so recently—both have been nicer to me. Was that what the fights were all about at school then at the apartment? Over me? He shook his head. That means that…they…like…me, he thought slowly, carefully, trying to figure if that was the truth or not. Well, there isn't a better explanation than that, is there? So…this is bad. I don't want them fighting over me—I don't deserve to be fought over. I'm a coward, and sneaky, and a liar… Trying to rationalize why in hell anyone would ever like him, Shinji sat up. Alright, that's beside the point. What the problem is, is that two girls have shown interest in me, and are fighting each other because of it. So that means…I have to either choose one or let them both know that it can't work out.
"Damnit!" he cursed. "So no matter what, one of them is going to get hurt; and if I choose to pick neither, then they'll both get hurt. This sucks!" He stood and picked a rock from the ground, chucking it into the trees. "Why'd this have to happen to me?" he said angrily, raising his voice. "It's all your fault, Father! If you wouldn't have made me a pilot, none of this would be happening!" The fire in his belly died down a small bit with this exclamation. "But if he hadn't made me a pilot, I wouldn't have ever met people like Toji and Kensuke, or Misato—or Asuka and Rei." He paused a moment, then sat, crossing his arms atop bent knees, resting his forehead on them. "Damnit…"
He tried to think of what to do, but after he had gotten angry, his mind wouldn't stay on task. So he talked out loud, voicing his thoughts to the grass and flowers. "I'm a bastard for even thinking of doing this." But it has to be done. He let out a sigh, laden with frustration. "I can't go about this by just their physical appearance, that's for sure. Even if Asuka was prettier than Rei, or the other way around, that's not what matters. So I have to do this by their personalities." He sighed again, not believing he was talking about two human beings like they were products to be bought from a shelf. "Asuka is…well, she's passionate. A bit brash and hot-headed at times, but she can be really fun to hang out with. Other than calling me an idiot every now and then, she isn't all that mean. She's also very smart, which is always a good thing. Rei—she's also really bright. She's calm, collected—she always has a plan, it seems, and a backup if that one fails. She's very trustworthy and honorable, I can tell that much from piloting with her. She's really nice, too—she's never called me any names or anything like that. And we kissed that night…Asuka didn't kiss me on our date last week." He shook his head, growling. "Bah, but that shouldn't matter!"
A cicada began its melody off to the side of the meadow, annoying Shinji. He got up and started for home, not wanting to be bothered by it anymore, and not wanting to think about the girls anymore. But they were soon back in his head, demanding attention. So his pace slowed, his eyes wandering about the landscape instead of watching the trail, quietly talking to himself. Minutes passed until fifteen had flown by, then twenty, then thirty. Shinji still walked and talked by himself. Finally, he came to the best solution to his problem. "Asuka showed interest in me first, and so I have to go with her. It's not that Rei isn't a wonderful girl—Asuka just showed that she liked me first…" He defended the plan from the scoffing of the trees, and harrumphing of the moss, the sad sniff of the grass.
He walked the rest of the trail in silence, but said a few simple words when he left the edge of the forest.
"I'm sorry…"