The Lights of Tokyo-3
Tokyo 3 never failed to disappoint in the sheer glamor it radiated. The city seemed to gain new life after dark—not unlike other prefectures in Japan. The lights spread across the city like veins, connecting the many buildings by way of illumination, particularly in the downtown area. Unfortunately, witnessing its full glory had to wait until Shinji completed his errands.
Shinji set down a divider before placing his groceries on the conveyor belt. The clerk gave him a small smile before redirecting her attention to the man in front. To the side of the belt lay a collection of sweets and magazines, as well as a seasonal-exclusive item: the Christmas card.
Shinji eyed the assortment of prints. Each one contained either a comforting picture or a well-drawn illustration.
"Do you want one?" The clerk asked. Shinji blinked. The shopper formerly in front of him had his bags in hand, whistling what he could only assume to be a festive tune.
Shinji stood up straight. "Pardon?"
"A card. You can give them to family, to friends…"
"I've never bought one before."
"Well, that doesn't mean you can't buy one now."
"But I don't know anyone I could give it to."
The clerk furrowed her brow. She scanned his groceries, placing the articles of food into a small shopping bag. "There has to be someone."
He could pass the card to Misato. Christmas was a few weeks away, so he could give it to her when the time came. On the other hand, she had been staying out for longer periods. He doubted that Nerv would hold an officially-sanctioned Christmas party if he asked politely.
That thought was silly. It wasn't like the cards had to be given exclusively on Christmas anyway. He could simply give it the next time he saw her.
He could give it to Rei, but he didn't know how she'd react. She would probably question its necessity.
He could give it to Asuka, but there was a problem. She hadn't exactly been friendly to him following his salvage operation. She at least seemed more bitter than usual. He wasn't even certain if it was directed at him, but his mind didn't conjure the most charitable reasons regarding himself for her bouts of frustration. He wondered if a card would just be a sad attempt at trying to re-establish a connection. Or worse: an action construed as a gesture of pity.
Maybe it just wasn't worth it.
"Look, if you don't want one, that's alright. Besides, you can express gratitude to those important to you in other ways."
Shinji thanked the clerk before leaving the store. He walked up a stairwell to the train station, mindful not to bash the bag against the railing. Upon reaching the top, he noticed that the first marks of the Christmas celebration were in effect. Though not extensive, he noticed a few wreaths across the pillars. There were some reindeer plastered across the upper levels of the structure, complete with cartoonish smiles.
When the train arrived, vivid flashes of blue, green, and red reflected off the glass panes. It seemed someone had even made the effort to place fake snow off the platform. A cool breeze almost sold the illusion to Shinji.
After reaching his stop, he noted that the lights around the apartment were the same as ever—static and uniform. Shinji entered and announced his arrival. A joyless dinner complete with palpable tension awaited him.
Another week, and yet another round of sync tests. They became tiresome after a while, and it didn't help that Misato was rarely at the apartment anymore.
The harsh noises of the train screeched along well-maintained tracks. As the last reaches of the sun failed to contact the glass of the windows, the twilight luminescence brightened Tokyo 3.
Shinji softly gripped the SDAT player with his right hand, resigning to put his left within the boundaries of his own seat. Not that it would have mattered. Both adjacent seats had no occupants.
"Excuse me, is this seat taken?" asked a finely dressed man.
Shinji looked up, seeing traces of silver hair, but was unable to make out the face. The elderly gentleman was wearing a rather heavy coat and a cozy hat given the weather, but he didn't give it much thought.
"It's free," Shinji said, scooching over to give more room. "Go ahead."
The man plopped down to Shinji's right, careful not to encroach on his space. The man was of a lanky build, positioning both hands in his lap and maintaining good posture. Shinji paused the player and shifted his body to look outside of the train. Despite the more overt advertising for Christmas, the eternal summer had failed to accommodate the increasingly jovial atmosphere. But that went both ways. A war against the Angels couldn't stop holiday celebrations, so why should that right belong to the weather?
The phone in Shinji's pocket began to vibrate. He let the music player fall to his left, swiveling around to retrieve the offending buzz. He flipped it open and held it to his ear.
"Shinji? It's Misato."
"Hello, ma'am," Shinji said. He knew better than anyone his voice currently held no warmth, but it wasn't a purposeful dejection either. It was simply a tired tone.
"I have to tell you something."
Shinji didn't respond. He was fairly certain he could hear a sigh on the other end.
"I didn't want it to come to this. Ritsuko said that taking you in was impulsive, despite my best intentions. I guess I didn't see the problem until recently—only after a few months of Asuka staying with us."
Asuka. She had experienced something he hadn't come close to in all of piloting; that much was clear to him. After leaving her in the quarantine zone, he had made no further attempt to talk to her. She hadn't come out of her room for dinner that evening or the night after. Should he return to an empty apartment tonight, that would make the third. Maybe it would change soon. Maybe.
"I think she's going to have to move out, Shinji. We can't go on like this."
The ambiance of the train and the man to Shinji's right no longer mattered. The surrounding city lights seemed to dim ever faintly.
His throat tensed. "Will she be staying at the GeoFront then?"
"No. I arranged to have her stay with the Horaki family until further notice."
"Okay, Misato."
"Take care, Shinji. I'll be back as soon as I can. Bye."
The line ended with the telltale click. Shinji stuffed the phone in his pocket, not bothering to retrieve the SDAT. He hunched a bit forward and drew his knees closer to his chest, almost letting his feet leave the ground.
"I remember when the temperature mandated coats—when the windows of cars and trains would fog up, and the younger amongst us would doodle with their fingers," the man said, his hands still.
Shinji didn't say anything. The man titled his head slightly but didn't stop speaking.
"I doubt someone your age would remember that. I've made peace with this eternal summer weather."
Shinji noticed a precise glint in the man's eyes from his peripheral vision. He continued, "However, I still want to return to fall and spring one day. Not to mention winter."
"But some things are lost. We can't get them back," Shinji said.
"That's true. I did say that I made peace with it. But on the other side of things, when presented with a situation in decline, I've seen a great many refuse to take it for fear of having missed their chance."
"I'm not afraid of change! It's natural. I can accept that."
The old man tapped his foot on the ceramic tile. "And you're correct. Change is natural. But to reach out and seize the present is just as important, if not more so, than recognizing that the past cannot be altered."
"But I can't control everything that happens. I can't—"
"No one can," the man said. "It doesn't make all of our efforts pointless. That line of thought reduces our capacity for action."
So he was running away again. He came back to fight the Fourteenth Angel—why was he still justifying cowardice to himself? It was tough coming up with a response to that, so Shinji resorted to another route.
"Who are you?" he asked.
The man simply tugged at his hat, and with it came the shadow hiding his face. He was unmistakable.
"Vice-Commander?"
Fuyutsuki chuckled. Shinji tried to get up from his seat to give his superior a sign of more formal respect, but Fuyutsuki simply shook his head. "No need for that."
Shinji sat back down. "Before, you said that you knew people who couldn't seize the present. Were you talking about my father?"
Fuyutsuki looked straight ahead; his face carried a sad smile. "No, I meant myself. Your father views the past differently."
Shinji could still change things—it wasn't too late. That much was certain now. He wasn't fond of regrets.
"I think I understand," Shinji said.
"Calm yourself to achieve inner serenity. That's an important part of winning, whether it be on a battlefield or the struggles of each passing day."
After a controlled deceleration, the train entered the station. In addition to the normal lights, the Christmas-colored luster brought more vitality to the platform. The doors opened, Shinji putting one foot through. He looked back at Fuyutsuki one more time, giving a slight bow.
He smiled. "Thank you for humoring this old man. Goodbye, Shinji."
"Thank you, sir!"
The old man raised his hand, giving him a small wave before the doors closed. The train began moving a few seconds afterward. Fuyutsuki's sanguine expression suddenly shifted to one of confusion.
"That's funny, I don't recall this being near the Katsuragi apartment…"
It was the wrong stop. Of course it was.
Shinji looked back at the station one last time, jotting down the time for the arrival of the next train. It wouldn't be a short wait. In the center of the station, a miniature representation of the Tokyo 3 Loop Line attracted attention from several commuters. Some lights hung off the ledges like icicles, while others sprouted from the ground and curved at the peak like candy canes.
Shinji looked beyond the platform. The sparkling stars adorning fresh trees provided a fluid counterbalance to the metropolitan downtown of Tokyo 3. The young boy descended the stairs, weaving around the numerous crowds.
It was nice, but something was missing. Or someone.
Shinji wrestled the phone from his pocket, selecting Misato's number as soon as the device activated.
"Hello, Misato."
"Oh, Shinji. Is there something else you wanted to say?"
"Do you need anything? From the store?"
"I don't know… I'm going to be out all night," she paused. "Oh, I know! You can pick up some sardines for Pen Pen. I think we're almost out."
Shinji continued to walk around the shopping center, the phone pressed to his right ear.
"Shinji?"
"Does Asuka have to go?"
"Shinji-"
"You don't need to kick her out, you don't-–"
"Shinji, she's the one who wants to move out."
"What?"
"I'm sorry. I don't know what to do, and the work that I have to do certainly doesn't help. I wish there was another option."
"When does she have to leave?"
"Either tomorrow or the day after."
Shinji took a deep breath. "Okay. See you tomorrow then."
"Bye, Shinji. Stay safe."
Shinji didn't hear the click of the call termination that time, having entered the store.
The sardines were easy enough to find. They blended well with all of the other bland fish in the aisle. It also helped that they were quite inexpensive. Shinji looked up at the numerous posters providing decoration to the walls of the supermarket.
He had never exactly participated in the holiday. The sales bargains and the city lights sometimes looked so foreign to his days before coming to Tokyo 3.
Shinji made his way to the checkout aisle, the can of fish gripped in his right hand.
"I don't suppose you want a card this time?"
The same clerk. She offered him a genuine wave. Shinji gave the selection another browse: one in particular caught his eye.
"I like the look of this card," Shinji said. He raised a woodblock print displaying two trees, the pines slightly obscured by fog. The clerk smiled.
"Excellent choice. Have a good night."
"Thank you, ma'am!"
He looked at the time. The next train would be arriving shortly.
"I'm home!" Shinji said, all too aware it would warrant no response. Discarding his shoes, he entered the living room. Even in the darkened space, he noticed that the table had begun accumulating dust; the kitchen devoid of any signature mess. He placed the card on the table for the time being, grabbing the can of sardines from the grocery bag. Quickly doing away with the lid, he picked up on the absence of another resident: Pen Pen was nowhere to be found.
Scratching the back of his neck, Shinji's eyes drifted towards Asuka's room. The crack between the wall and door may as well have been nonexistent. The only light spilling into the living room originated from under the sliding frame, but there was not a sound that could be heard from the other side. He flipped on the lights, continuing to search for the penguin.
After a few minutes, he was ready to give up. That was until he brushed past the balcony, glimpsing a faint whisper of white in the black sky. Cold air spilled into the apartment, the wind slightly ruffling Shinji's clothes.
"I've been looking for you!" he said, the breeze causing him to reflexively shiver. "Have you been out here all night?"
The penguin cocked his head, not making a sound. He waddled back into the comfort of the interior, making a heavenly sigh as the aroma of the sardines reached him. Closing the door, Shinji slightly chuckled to himself. Despite this, he couldn't help but gravitate towards the obvious.
Passing the slurping noises of a satisfied bird, he gripped onto the card. Though the divider appeared almost welded shut, the crack under the door still displayed a small opening. The light from Asuka's room was now off, and silence continued to accompany the space. Shinji got onto his knees, sliding the card halfway under the frame. He listened for any reaction from the other side. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
By the tenth, Shinji decided that waiting was pointless. If she wanted the card, then she'd retrieve it, provided she wasn't sleeping. He lightly knocked, paused, then decided to forage in the kitchen for anything resembling sustenance.
The cupboard was empty. As was the fridge, barring the final remnants of half-eaten curry and instant noodles.
Shinji turned back around, noting that the card had not moved. A minute passed.
Then another. Five. Ten.
Having given up on the search for food, Shinji found himself staring at the calendar. The month of December had an illustration of a rudimentary snowman. Flipping back to November, he noticed that not a single date was marked other than one:
Shinji's Salvage Operation.
October was similarly missing any major footnotes. However, September possessed the circle and marks that signified the week of sync training Asuka and himself underwent to beat the Ninth Angel. All three months that once belonged to Autumn displayed images of colored leaves. All of the way back at the beginning of the calendar, Shinji noted the pristine white landscape presented to him.
"I guess it would be nice to see, just once," he said, resetting the calendar to December. The snowman looked a tad more lively now.
Shinji stole another glance at the door; the card remained undisturbed. He had done his part, why should he have to do more? He got the card, and she could move out if she truly wanted to.
Excuses. He always knew that's what they were.
"Asuka?" Shinji knelt beside the door frame.
He could have sworn he heard some noise on the other side, but he wasn't sure.
"I talked with Misato. I know all about it. She said you wanted to move out."
This time he was sure he could hear shuffling from the room. He sighed. "Why?"
An empty question. The noises stopped. It was her choice to move after all, and he hadn't exactly made a concerted effort in the past to understand her.
"I have something to say before you do," Shinji said. "During these last few months that I've lived with you and Misato, it's been some of the best times I can remember. Even those stupid outfits. The hot springs. The ramen stand."
Shinji turned back towards the slightly creased calendar.
"I don't think we can go back to that now. No matter how much I want to. But one thing is for certain: I don't want to leave this all behind," he said. "And I don't think you do either."
He stood up, watching Pen Pen retreat to his freezer. He sat down at the table, sneaking one last look at the snowman on the calendar. Maybe she'd come out of the room and speak to him. Maybe they could reconcile. Maybe they could—
A brief rustling broke the silence of the apartment as well as Shinji's musings. Once more, Shinji directed his gaze to Asuka's room. The portion of the card still visible on his side of the divider was now gone. With the acceptance of the card, hope illuminated the apartment in tandem with the lights. Shinji was more than content with that.
The End.
A/N:
Right, I've sold my soul and written my first fanfic, excluding How to Train Your Dragon back when the second movie hadn't even come out. I wrote this for the AsuShin Winter Contest, so if this is the first one you're seeing, I implore you to read the others.
Hope your holidays were magnificent, and that the New Year will bring you plenty of opportunities. Take care.