We Are (Not) Cursed

by BardInTheForest

(Pax Ikari vol III) When Shinji Ikari rides the train from Nagano to Tokyo-3, he is made the epicenter of a reality altering event. With the reality he had occupied now changed forever, he must conceive of a future that will accomodate diametrically opposed ethos. A man who has never known love is now responsible for the fate of the very humans he's been kept from, for good or ill.

10. Chapter 10

+++++ Kirijo Residence. (Monday, August 23rd, +2)

No matter how much Shinji altered his pace, he could not manage to prevent the woman known as Yuko from walking at his side. He preferred to walk just behind other people when following them, that way he could keep his head down and his eyes on their feet. The direction the feet moved were, by physical law, the direction that the body was going. At her side, he was forced to sense and anticipate where they were going which felt terrible and awkward.

As they reached a hallway junction, she came to a stop. There were no doors nearby, no indication that they had reached their destination, and when she faced him it was not with the gaze of expectation that would declare the short journey completed. "I apologize if I am speaking out of turn, Mister Ikari. However, I need to ask a favor or two from you before you develop some form of lowered expectations. First, please inform me of anything that does not meet your desires. 'Good enough' is not good enough for me or my staff. We do not 'meet expectations', we exceed them. I understand that you are coming from trying circumstances, and that your care to this point has been unsatisfactory in the extreme. I do not know the nature of those circumstances, only that the Lady Kirijo has informed us that you are a retiring young man who has been taught to not make waves. Whatever challenges you faced before, I would see them vanquished here. Second, and of a more personal nature, I would ask that you not deny my staff the opportunity to come to know you better. I feel that allowing the people who work for you that kind of opportunity helps them anticipate and accomplish what you need done before you know you need it done. There is not a single woman in this house that I cannot trust explicitly, each of them not only knows their business but is the best at it one could hope to find. To watch you move, it is clear that you prefer to do for yourself, for reasons that only your past could elucidate upon. Here, you will find your life made much better by doing in concert with others. We take pride in our duty, we find joy in performing it, we draw purpose from fulfilling it. Please," she bowed politely, a servant to a master, "do not deny us that purpose, which would leave us as nothing."

An entire legion of thoughts warred amongst themselves, each attempting to seize control of the means of speech to steer the conversation towards their own ends. What arrived first, however, was genuine concern driven by the truth of Shinji Ikari, "…You are never 'nothing', Yuko-san. Every life deserves a chance to rise above what it is, and no life should be considered pointless. Some of us…just don't get to make as big an impression on the rest."

Standing upright once more, she favored him with a pleased smile. "That will not be your fate, Mister Ikari."

"…Shinji." If he was going to be allowed to ask for things, that would be one of the first. "Please, I…I'm not someone important. I'm just Shinji."

"For now." Yuko gestured towards the hallway to their right. "I will inform my staff that you prefer an informal title for the moment, until you have been given an opportunity to perform greater deeds." Several steps down the hall, she opened an ornate door, revealing an impressively modern bathroom. "You will find a selection of soaps, cloths, and moisturizers. Please feel free to sample them as you will, whichever you prefer we will make certain is kept in adequate supply."

Shinji cautiously entered the bathroom, the door closed for him behind him. Standing in a room that was larger than the bedroom he'd been given in Nagano, surrounded by opulence and decadence, he set his eyes on something familiar. Something he'd known for the last decade and a half of his life. A brand of soap that she insisted he use. Soap that smelled of sandalwood. Reaching out for it, he felt his arm seize up. Streaking down his arm from under the short-sleeved shirt he wore was a dark grey band of color, blue borders pulsing with anger. His fingers, save for his knuckles, were coated in the same dark grey, his knuckles sharing the throbbing blue. He could destroy it. He could destroy it all. He could unmake the world, the universe, all of it. There would be nothing. No void, no cosmos, existence itself from the first to the last gone. His eyes trailed back towards the soap, and he saw a stray burgundy hair that had attached itself to his wrist.

Mitsuru.

As quickly as the odd body art had appeared, it vanished. Shinji swallowed, hard. "M-Miss."

The door opened with a haste bordering on fear. Yuko, however, simply appeared calmly eager for whatever tasks he might have. "Yes, Shinji?"

"N-no s-sandalwood, p-please." Swallowing again, he took a shuddering breath. He could feel how wide his eyes were, and embarrassment was only held back by desperation. "A-and…uhm…spearmint. N-no spearmint."

"Of course." Entering more fully into the room, she politely set one hand on his chest and moved him away from the sink. Another woman, barely older than him, swiftly entered the bathroom and scooped up the small trashcan to pick through the entire area. Anything that might have even hinted at the two scents were thrown out, and after casing the entire room twice she dropped into a quick curtsey before leaving with the same haste. Yuko, never having taken her hand off his chest, spent the entire time working on a breathing exercise with him. Low murmurs, encouraging tones, and constant eye contact. When she believed his pulse was back to a healthy level, she patted him twice and backed away. "Thank you. Should you think of anything else, do not hesitate to call."

With the room empty once again, and the door secure…Shinji crouched down on the floor and wept.

+++++ Kirijo Residence. (Monday, August 23rd, +2)

Miyuki sat at the head of the table, reading through various reports on the MAGI terminal embedded inside of it. She had allowed her daughter to remain silent as their wait stretched out close to a half of an hour, despite preferring to engage in conversation with the young woman as often as possible. Her own thoughts regarding the arranged marriage were long since settled, the benefits clear and the knowledge that Shinji Ikari was a conduit for powerful forces understood. If Mitsuru balked, she herself would marry him. The Kirijo Group had to help safeguard humanity against the actions that had destroyed the Nanjo Group, and no sacrifice would be too great. Not, she sighed mentally, that a marriage to him would be a sacrifice. There's good clay there, just waiting to be molded into greatness. His sacrifices will be compensated, and his past avenged.

"I know that our house is enormous, but did he somehow get lost?" Mitsuru had been watching the door leading into the dining room they sat within from the main house. "Did Yuko take him on a tour?"

Your fiancé is currently relieving himself of a great deal of stress, dear. Men do not cry in public, if they can help it. "She is presenting him with a wide selection of soaps and other products. I would presume that he is taking his time in giving everything a fair evaluation, since he likely would view this as a 'task' and not an offer."

"Oh…." The younger Kirijo sighed, looking back down to her hands. "He does have a tendency to throw himself into whatever task is presented to him. In class, he frequently triple-checked work that his group had done despite knowing for certain that it was properly completed. He moves quickly, but demands perfection of himself in everything."

"A reinforced character trait that I believe had been pre-existing." Skipping past a financial evaluation of the economic impact that would be incurred by the loss of the male portion of the population of Japan, she instead began to read a letter from his teacher to Naoko Akagi regarding fears of child abuse in Shinji's past. "His manual dexterity is remarkable, and I would anticipate that he practices constantly for any possible contingency simply because he is too anxious to not be doing something at all times."

There was a long pause before Mitsuru asked what had clearly been on her mind, "Are we certain that his abuser is still alive?"

"Yes." I'll have to thank his teacher for being brave enough to risk retaliation. Her evaluation of him is in line with my own. Perhaps I should hire her. "We detained her earlier this morning; she is currently undergoing debriefing by security. We will know the extent of everything she has done, before the trial begins. I have not turned her over to NERV, but only because I do not want Yui-chan to damage her standing by…becoming overly maternal."

A series of noises demonstrated Mitsuru's thoughts. Her typical self-control and practiced poise continuing to prove inadequate to handle the madness unfolding around her. "Should we not tell him?"

"That would be unwise, at the moment." The door opened, preventing her from going into any great detail, with Shinji entering after Yuko. "Ah, there you are. Did you find anything you preferred?"

Risking her employer's displeasure, Yuko covered for Shinji to demonstrate that she was serious about her previous statements. "There were a few items that he disapproved of, which will be annotated on the shopping list alongside his preferred choices. If I may be so bold as to venture a comment, I believe that the balsam he chose suits him wonderfully."

Miyuki watched Shinji pause, then turn back and give Yuko a heartfelt, if small, smile. That is good to know. "That does seem befitting of him, doesn't it?" Waving him towards her, she gestured to the seat between the head of the table where she sat and the seat where Mitsuru had been placed. "Come, come. Sit down. Let's enjoy our first family meal together."

Shinji hurried over to the seat he'd been directed to, seating himself with a hint of awkwardness. It was readily apparent that he'd never sat down in a high-backed chair, or at an expensive table that contained multiple MAGI terminals, or between two women, the list went on. His hands were folded in his lap, and he had moved his chair far too close to sit comfortably. In a word, he was lost.

Once more, Yuko came to his rescue. Approaching the back of his chair, she leaned to the side so he could see her and deflected any potential shame away from him as she repositioned the seat. "Believe it or not, Shinji, young miss Kirijo only these last two years has been able to sit at this table without additional padding. Much of her height had been in her legs, which led to the impression that perhaps she was far younger than she truly is."

Mitsuru recognized the maneuver for what it was, and laughed affably. "I did look rather ridiculous. My first year of high school, speaking with my mother about what I had learned, and seeming as if instead of discussing linear equations I ought to have been impressing her with the knowledge that two and three equals five."

"It shames me to say that you will, in many ways, forever be that little girl in my mind, dear." Miyuki joined in the effort to prevent Shinji from feeling embarrassed without any true need to. "I still remember teaching you how to use utensils properly, and I still mourn the loss of the shirt that lesson cost me."

"There was no way to clean it properly, with the sauce that had spilled on it," Yuko explained to Shinji, standing back up after arranging his chair properly.

The parade of distractions was successful, but not for the reason they believed. Shinji had a slight frown as he thought about how he'd tackle the stain. "…Wouldn't a dry-cleaning solvent, then mineral oil, then more solvent start breaking down the stain? If you needed, you could try water, soft dish soap, and a few drops of white vinegar afterwards. It would force the oil in the sauce to the surface, and you could absorb it with a petroleum absorbing pad."

"That would work, most likely, yes. The problem is, we could not convince Madam to change her blouse out. The stain had set by the time we were given the chance."

"My daughter was learning to eat with a fork, and I would not have missed that for the world," Miyuki declared with a look of love towards Mitsuru. "The sacrifice of a lovely blouse is nothing, compared to what I gained." She sighed, then looked towards Shinji with a more maudlin smile. "I had lost my husband that year, and was so overwhelmed with work that I missed several other 'firsts'. Our work was intended to benefit humanity, and I couldn't afford to take the time off to be the mother I should have been."

Mitsuru inwardly winced, the implicit comparison obvious to her. "I had others to help me. None of them could replace you, mom, but each of them is dear to me for the help they've given me."

"Which is why we're here now," she brought the topic around to her point, "so that we can offer that same assistance to our dear Shinji. Though I trust he is able to properly use utensils, I doubt very much he's had the opportunity to eat something as wonderful as what our own chef can make."

He had purged himself of sorrow for the moment. Eventually the tank would refill itself, and eventually he would have to find somewhere quiet to weep for a time, but right now he hoped to prove to be a grateful guest to his hosts. "I, uhm, I know how to use them, yes. I look forward to eating someone else's cooking, for a change."

Mitsuru watched Yuko disappear into the kitchen, and moved to engage Shinji on what she hoped would be a calm topic, "Did you prepare your own meals, then?"

"I had to," he answered with a shrug. "If I didn't get food prepared in time, I was punished. I…actually enjoy cooking. When I was in the kitchen, I was left alone. I could look at the chemical reactions happening, learn the timing on various temperatures and foods, and I was always learning something new. It was peaceful."

Yuko had reentered, with the chef in tow. Pushing the cart carrying the meals, she allowed the Chef to come stand between Miyuki and Shinji while she set out everything herself. Heavyset, but not truly 'fat', the chef had an air of confidence about her and a thoughtful demeanor. "The lessons one learns in a kitchen apply to all facets of life, I agree. Patience, as you wait for a pot to boil or a marinade to settle. Timeliness, as you flip a crepe in the period just before it burns at the edges. Service, as you understand that what you make will set the tone for someone else's day, or welcome them home after a trying day. I am glad to hear that you understand these things, young master. I look forward to sharing my kitchen with you someday, we will learn new things from one another."

The prospect honestly brightened his mood. He doubted the kitchen behind the nearby door was as poorly equipped as the one he'd grown up using, and the possibility to once again work with professional equipment as he had earlier with the piano was compelling. "I look forward to it too, sensei. I promise I will watch from a safe distance, to not interfere."

"No, no." The big woman patted him on the shoulder. "We will work in close contact. I teach my students by touch, showing them by using their own hands to feel the difference. I am a very patient teacher, you are a very welcome student. Together, we will make excellent food that sustains our family." Lifting up the cover for Miyuki's plate, she set it on the cart as Yuko positioned it by her. "You see, Madam needs more iron and protein in her diet. Despite her protestations to the contrary, her weight is low for her size, age, and gender." A slight gesture to the dark green vegetables, and seasoned pork, she watched as Shinji nodded in understanding.

"Steamed spinach and broccoli, with carrots and honey for flavoring. That smells like…cumin, paprika, oregano, and cinnamon on the tenderloin."

With a warm laugh, she looked to Miyuki and nodded. "Yes, I will enjoy working with him." Moving around to Shinji's other side, she exposed Mitsuru's meal. "Why would you think I gave her this, then?"

Shinji noted the chicken breast, lightly covered in a meat sauce, resting atop a bed of wheat noodles covered in olive oil. Sitting in a cup off to the side were mixed peas and carrots with pepper. "Carbohydrates for energy tomorrow, lean chicken with some of the pork sauce from Miyuki-san's dinner mixed with a tomato sauce to help maintain muscle. Peas and carrots to help with digestion, and to provide vitamins and minerals." His eyes twitched to the chef, and his chest warmed when she gave him a broad smile of approval.

"Very good." Taking the cover off of his own meal, she waited for his reaction.

Poached salmon, chopped walnuts, sliced strawberries, and long-grain brown rice. Simple, efficient, and with very little by way of amplifying spices. "This looks delicious, and like it's very nutritious…but…."

"But you do not know why these were chosen."

"No idea."

"Because you are a dour man, who has need of an improved mood. The salmon, the walnuts, and the strawberries will help you produce more serotonin, which you need to not be so dour. The rice is to help digestion. None of it is as ostentatious as what I serve the ladies, because I do not feel that you are one for complex meals."

"Thank you." He seemed much happier, after the explanation. "I appreciate the effort that you went to."

"Good. Then you enjoy your meal, and we will discuss what I send in with you for lunch tomorrow at breakfast." Ruffling his hair, pleased with his interactions with her, she took the cart and lids into the kitchen with her.

Yuko moved back into the corner, sitting down and pulling out a cross-stitching pattern that she worked on while waiting for something someone might need. Allowing Miyuki to urge everyone to eat and steer the conversation further, "Yet another gift you'll be able to give us, then. I look forward to enjoying the meal that you and she provide. For now, let's enjoy the meal before us."

+++++ Kirijo Residence. (Monday, August 23rd, +2)

After a pleasant dinner where nothing of importance was discussed, Shinji was much more relaxed. The back and forth of a conversation, held between people who were actually interested in what he thought, remained a novel experience for him. He learned that Miyuki was able to play many of the same instruments as him, and that Mitsuru was conversant in a number of stringed instruments herself. Both were decorated European fencers, and often enjoyed sparring against one another in the practice room at the rear of the house. Everything he mentioned, or commented upon, seemed to be both analyzed and a source of new conversations that he hadn't anticipated. Despite that, he never felt as if he was being awkward. Unskilled, and perhaps even naïve, but never like he had caused them to become irritated or disgusted.

The next surprise for him came when Miyuki stood after dessert had been finished and the dishes had been taken away and clasped her hands with a hopeful smile. "Now that we've had a lovely meal, the last thing I need from you this evening is for you to allow another pair of ladies to get your measurements. They'd also like to discuss color schemes and fabric preferences." Urging him to stand, she approached and offered him her hands with a smile. "After which, Mitsuru will show you to your new bedroom, and I'll leave the rest of the evening to you two to decide what to do. You still have a few hours before you should sleep, as you cannot learn with a tired brain, and spending that time getting to know one another in some form or fashion would be lovely."

Shinji honestly had no idea why it was so pleasant to be touched as often as he was. Touch had always preceded something unwanted. Pain, or a disgusting pleasure that he hated himself for. Yet, somehow, each time someone in the house he was to live in touched him, it generated a feeling of warmth. There was no hidden slap, no groping pinch, nothing more than a house full of various women that acted as if what they were doing was the most natural thing in the world. Still, he couldn't stop his body from reacting as it would, and that fact shamed him deeply. Blushing, he nodded acquiescence and looked towards the anticipated exit.

Standing by the door, Yuko held it open with a calm, steady presence. "This way, if you please." The way she looked at him spoke of understanding, the fact that she'd heard him crying evident and evidently not changing the manner in which she looked upon him. Her intent was clear, 'You are safe here, and you will be safe here.'

"Fortunately, our school has given us a great deal of latitude on how we wear our uniforms, and how we accessorize them." Mitsuru took the lead, walking out into the hallway leading towards the main hall. "So we'll be able to let you try a number of different concepts, to see what you feel 'best' wearing."

Given something to focus on other than his own failings, Shinji allowed Miyuki to escort him after her daughter. "I…uhm, I really don't know anything about fashion, or accessories, or even uniforms. I wore what I'm wearing because it's what I was given, not because I chose it myself."

"Then I suppose it is for the best that I was able to secure the services of the finest in their field to help you discover what you might choose." Miyuki kept his arm, seemingly unaware of the conflicted emotions she was causing within him. "There is a balance to be found, after all, between the acknowledgement that all clothing is ultimately is a means to cover our nudity for those too prudish to appreciate the elegance of the human form, and the acceptance of the cultural power that clothing is capable of providing us. Appear as a pauper, and a pauper is all you will seem to be to someone too foolish to look past the clothing. Dress a king as a pauper, and no sane person would believe it for an instant. What you wear, how you wear it, it's all part of the dance of humanity."

He chuckled, his morbid humor rising at an inconvenient time. "Then I doubt anyone will believe me to be anything but a pretender, regardless of what I wear."

"For now, perhaps." She looked at him askance, waiting for him to notice her attentions before adding, "But I will not be content to allow you to wallow in base mediocrity while far greater is well within your grasp."

"Y-yes, ma'am." Icy claws of anxiety gripped his brain as he realized that he'd let himself become a bit too glib.

Yuko added her own thoughts, to both support her employer and temper his anxieties, "Service to others is life's greatest calling, after all. If we are capable of making the lives of those around us better, it is incumbent upon us to do whatever is practicable to do so, is it not?"

The message behind the message was clear. "Y-yes, ma'am." He'd kicked his own shin, and he had nobody to blame for what he was experiencing now but himself.

"But you will not be alone while you're learning how to help," Mitsuru asserted herself into the conversation again with some heat. She disliked seeing Shinji suffering, and would not allow her mother to bully him. "And I do not believe you to be a pretender, either. You are someone who doesn't know who they are, or who they can become. I know that you are a man with a good heart, who wants to keep people safe. That's enough for me right now, and more than enough to build on for the future."

Somehow that level of confidence in him hurt worse than what Miyuki had said. He wasn't someone with a good heart, at least as far as he knew. Shinji was spared from further damage to his self-cognition by their arrival in the main hall. Two women, both dressed impeccably, spied the group he was with and met them halfway. As was only polite, Shinji bowed in greeting first.

The first woman, thin and reedy, clicked her tongue chidingly and pushed him back upright via a folded fan under his chin. "No, no, no. Too low. Much too low." Moving the tip of her fan from his chin to one cheek, she turned his head slightly to the right. "Mmm…yes. There is a fire in there. Guttering, flagging from too long without fuel, but a fire still." Patting his cheek twice with the fan, she turned to the other woman and tilted her head questioningly. "A Dark Summer?"

The other woman, stout and muscular, nodded slowly. "A bright polish, bright enough to reflect lasers. He walks in light, daring others to see the shadows within." She looked to Miyuki for permission for her part of the plan. "Five sets. Two athletic, two about town, one business?"

"Seven," Miyuki countered, "as a starting point. Two business, and one high formal. Cost remains a non-issue."

"I insist that I be allowed to give him an additional outfit," the first woman asserted firmly. "He will be shedding his cocoon, spreading his wings to fly on the winds of fate itself…but for the time being he remains in that cocoon. I would like to know that I provided him something that should comfort him through that metamorphosis. I will not charge him for it, and will not accept payment from any other. It will be a gift, and a gift alone."

"Mmm." She drummed her fingers atop Shinji's arm, where she had yet to move from. "I will not force a gift on him. We'll see how he reacts to your ideas, and then we'll ask him whether or not to accept your gift."

Rolling her eyes towards the ceiling, she snapped her fan open and began to work it under her own chin. "Seven outfits meant for manual labor, fourteen outfits meant for casual outings, twelve school uniform variations, fourteen outfits meant to wear around his home, seven to wear at night when he means to rest, ten meant for business, five meant for mid-formal, three meant for high formal, seven for athletic endeavors, three for dance, and eight outfits for those outings escorting a young lady about town."

Keeping the running tally in his mind, Shinji tried to figure out when he'd even wear a quarter of the clothes being mentioned. Then the wonder of how he would store that much cloth while still being able to step into the room he would be given arose. Then the dread that he was going to be charged enough money to purchase the piano he'd liked so much grew. He was about to open his mouth to meekly protest, when motion to his side scuttled the thought.

Mitsuru twisted her fingers about, looking at her mother with a frown. "Eight?"

Her mother seemed to read her mind, nodding in agreement. "Twelve?"

"At least. We can't help him acclimate to society if he's constantly seen walking around wearing the same outfit every few days. He'll leave them with a static impression, to say nothing of the difficulty the young lady in question will have matching that outfit while remaining dynamic enough to be presentable."

"Mmm. Perhaps sixteen, then? A variety of shades and hues that allow for more flexibility?"

"May I ask why we're setting the bar so low?"

"Because he's never had more than a few outfits, dear. You don't feed a starving dog a seven-course meal, you'll kill the poor thing." Miyuki patted Shinji's arm. "This is to get him started down the path, pomp and flourish will come in time."

Shinji's question was once more quashed as the tailor stepped to the side and gestured to the tools of her trade. Clacking her fan closed, she shooed him that direction, "If you would be so kind as to stand within the circle and disrobe enough so that I may take your measurements?"

He moved without delay, working the buttons of his overshirt free as he did so. A few minor conversations that meant nothing to him particularly sprung up as he did so; the women present anticipating that he would not only be longer at the task than he was, but that he would also avail himself of the mobile changing room curtain that described the 'circle' he was expected to step within. As he finished removing his shirt, he already had his socks off before loosening his belt enough to drop his slacks to the ground. His underclothes joined the neatly folded stack of clothing thereafter, and he turned back around and stated quietly, "I'm, uhm…I'm ready."

While he had not noticed, the second, more muscular, woman had watched him the entire time. "Interesting." Gesturing towards him with her thumb, she looked to Miyuki for an answer. "What did he do before he came here to pilot a giant robot? He's got a farmer's body without the extra padding. Those are muscles that have lived a life of hard work, but where's his tan? He breathes too easy for it to be coal mining, and his lower body is too balanced to his upper for it to be fishing."

Miyuki watched as her daughter had looked at Shinji, blushed a bright shade of red, and then swiftly turned her back. The mother, blocking his view of her daughter's actions by stepping closer, attempted obfuscation by half-truths, "He lived in Nagano, and had to do much for himself. A life hard-lived, and as you can see a good basis for which to ply your art."

"His feet certainly will require more support than I had thought. His clothes hid his muscles, with little fat to be seen anywhere." She ran one thumb against her cheek idly, thinking through her plans. "How nimble are you, my good man?" She took note of Shinji's slight shrug, as well as his inability to determine what he could reply with. "Silent, lean, and prone to understating his presence. If he wasn't so honorable a lad, I'd say he'd make a perfect thief. My best leather against a wart on a boar's ass that he can disappear if he's of a mind to."

The taller of the two nodded in agreement with her fellow. "Then we shall have to give him the option to both emphasize and assist him in the doing of just that. You are quite the specimen, sir. I look forward to dressing you in my finest work." Rolling her fan, she asked permission to approach, "May I measure the canvas?"

Unable to see Mitsuru, and unaware of Yuko gritting her teeth at the situation, all Shinji had to rely on was Miyuki. From what he could see his hostess was pleased that the two women were able to approach him without causing him to flinch, was thrilled to know that he was working with her, and looked forward to seeing the end result of this exercise.

What he wasn't aware of was the roaring flames of wrath that readied her soul for what would come next for his aunt.