+++++ Tokyo-3. (Wednesday, September 8th, +18, Waxing Crescent 1/4)
Shinji wasn't certain what to feel. Hikaru, before returning to what she had been doing, had finished explaining the multiversal mystery that was Maya. The seemingly unconscious beauty's hand still felt wonderful in his. Her health remained a serious concern for him. Her good opinion of him was no less of a requirement. But if what he'd been told was true…would she even be interested in the lesser version of a greater man?
Her eyes remained closed, her breathing even. Lifting one hand to set her fingers against his lips, Maya purposefully did not leave anything to the imagination. "I am not her, in the same way you are not him."
Despite the evident prohibition against interruption, Shinji asked, "Are you ok?" The question was muffled, owing to her blocking his lips, but it was far too important to not ask.
"The answer to that is complex, and not really very interesting." Slowly lifting one eyelid, she tested out her vision against the room's dim lighting and found that it didn't hurt. "Thank you for keeping the lights low." She didn't cede the floor as she opened both eyes wider. "I will not suddenly leave you now. He is not 'greater' any more than you are 'lesser'. Yes, I hear your thoughts, no I won't share them with anyone else that doesn't already hear them. No, I am not suddenly a different woman, yes, I have a bunch of memories to adjust to. I'd really like it if you gave me a hug, but I'll understand if you don't want to right now."
Stooping down, he carefully slid his arms under her back to pull her into a gentle hug. "But…you have to be different. Experience forms personality."
"You'd probably be fairly amazed at how consistent Mayas are across dimensions." She shrugged one shoulder. "We're generally in one of two camps: dead, or falling for a goofy young man with absolutely mystifying abilities." Shifting back some, so they could continue to speak face to face, she offered him a sad smile. "Right now sucks. But without right now, you won't get to the part that doesn't suck. So let's push through right now, together, and get to the parts that are more fun."
+++++ NERV. (Wednesday, September 8th, +18, Waxing Crescent 1/4)
Back at NERV, the gathering of women tied to Shinji were engaged in chaotic discussions amongst varying groups.
"I am calm!" Chie's words echoed in the enclosed common area, "I'm also fucking angry! He was dragged, again, out of our arms. He was forced to deal with things alone, again. This Asura bitch confuses his mind and hurt Yuka-chan by hurting Amara-chan. Now you come here and tell us that we can't go to his side because he doesn't think he loves us in the way we either deserve or want to be loved? Of course I'm fucking angry. I'm pacing because punching things wouldn't do me any damn good. This is a words problem, not a fists problem."
Yuka, laying across a couch with her head in Isako's lap and her feet elevated on the arm of the seat, motioned tiredly with one hand. "I'm ok, Chie-chan. The medication and Isako-chan have it down to no worse than a dull roar."
Leaning against the back of a chair, unable to sit still herself, Rise looked to Mitsuru and asked, "I see two paths forward, but the one I like means we 'date' him to show him that we all do love each other."
Unseen by all of them, due to her keeping quiet, Yukiko was in the final moments of making a decision for herself that she knew none of them would approve of. Her voice too low to be heard by anyone but those she was speaking with, "I can't. He's a wonderful man, but I've made my choice. Seeing him be split between so many people, knowing that I'd forever be living in terror those times we did have together that he'd have to go fight…that he'd be risking death constantly."
"I understand," Hikaru attempted to be both empathetic and encouraging, "but I don't think it's nearly as bad as you're making it out to be in your mind."
Catherine d'Azincourt nodded slowly, also wishing for the young woman to reconsider her sudden conviction. "He will have all the time he wishes for each of those tied to him. As his self-cognition grows so to will his capacity to entertain others. You might very well be the-"
"I've made my mind up," Yukiko interrupted the fae, standing from the table and smoothing her dress down. "Please, excuse me." Not waiting for a reply, nor wanting to hear yet another reason why she shouldn't do what she'd decided upon, she quietly left the room without anyone else noticing she'd moved. Outside the room, she bumped into someone she hadn't expected to see.
Standing idly, leaning against the nearby corridor wall and seemingly waiting for her, was The Wanderer. "This way, if you don't mind." He gestured down the hallway, the 'request' given with all the good manners and polite bearing she would have anticipated from the young man of her own reality.
"O-of course." Falling alongside the giant, she felt her mind warring between anxiety and calm. She was walking alongside a god. She was walking alongside a titan. She was-
"You're walking alongside Shinji Ikari," he stated abstractedly. "Of all the names I have…." He paused for thought. "The titles, the sobriquets, the burdens…the one thing I wish I'd never lost is the right to call myself that. It became a joke, for a while. My wives, my friends, all greeting me as 'just Shinji'. They all recognized how hard it was going to be for me to adjust to my new responsibilities. How badly I wanted to stay…human. They helped me recognize that I couldn't be 'just Shinji' anymore. I'd picked up the fight…I owed it to everybody to commit to it."
They rounded a corner, out of sight of everyone, and suddenly she found herself walking in the outdoors, under a sky that seemed free from pollution. Clear blue as far as the eye could see, verdant green thriving beneath their feet, snow-capped mountains dotting the line between the two. Blinking, trying to adjust both her mind and body to what they were now experiencing, she lost the capacity for speech momentarily.
"I'm not telling you this to convince you to change your mind," The Wanderer continued. "I'm also not telling you this to force you to stay your course." Sliding his hands into his pockets, his long white hair floating slightly in the breeze, he closed his eyes and soaked in the serenity around them. "I want you to make up your own mind. On this, on everything. A version of you, long ago, helped a woman I love with every ounce of my being come to understand how to help me. She was confident, capable, battle-tested, and the very picture of what it meant to be a Japanese woman in that era. Equal to any man, any challenge…without sacrificing her femininity."
She watched him speak, felt the truth of his words, and when his eyes opened and became fixed on her she knew what he was here to do.
"If you want to remain human. If you want to forge your own path. If you just don't want to have the weight of eternity crush you every time you turn around…I understand." His lips gave the ghost of a smile. "You have a choice, which is more than most people can say."
"…Are…are you really him?" Yukiko watched his eyes change their point of focus. He wasn't looking at her anymore, instead looking through her to something that would never be found upon the physical realm.
"Yes, and no."
"Will he understand?"
"Yes." There was no doubt in that reply. The sky was blue, the grass beneath their feet was green, and Shinji Ikari would always understand when someone wanted nothing to do with the insanity that was his life. "There is no shame in not being ready to stand on the line. In not being ready to throw yourself against gods, against the universe, against death itself. I wasn't ready either. The difference is, I was never given a choice."
"And I have been."
"If I have my way, everyone will."
Spurred on by a sudden surge of emotions, Yukiko stepped over and clung tightly to his waist. The hug, far from romantic, was that of a small child seeking solace from someone they knew was 'safe'. The first coughing sob broke the dam, freeing her from the obligation to pretend that everything was ok anymore.
Clearing one hand, he set it on her head and smoothed her hair out of her face. "It will be ok, little one." His voice held the fatherly quality that she'd missed for more than a decade. His words offering her comfort, his touch offering her solace. "When you're ready, we'll find your mother."
+++++ Tokyo-3. (Thursday, September 9th, +19, Waxing Crescent 2/4)
Leaning against a streetlamp, Shinji watched as his 'escort' set up to help maintain a 'friendly deterrence' for the day's excursion. Maya's reminder the previous evening, after a lengthy lesson in exactly how much she was attracted to him, that the first step was always the hardest played back and forth in his mind on a loop. She'd offered to wait for a while before engaging the plan to acclimate him to the outside world, and he loved her for that, but he knew that if he let himself luxuriate in her presence he'd never want to do anything else.
Shiori Miyashiro, his personal Chief of Security, had greeted him with a warm hug that morning. Her statement that all he had to do was lift his right hand into a fist and she'd extract him from the situation and rush him back to his temporary apartment meant the world to him. From her position by one of the three Type 96 APCs that had been agreed upon, she looked back at him and tentatively held up one thumb to check on him.
The nature of their relationship, amounting to 'sexually active teammates', shone through how she didn't force him to be happy about anything. He returned her gesture calmly, in truth about as sanguine as he could be with everything going on. If it was just her, Maya, and Ritsuko…life wouldn't be terrible by any stretch. Returning his hand to his pocket after Shiori turned back to finish what she'd been doing, he looked around the street market they'd chosen for him.
A combination of humans and non-humans were bustling around the broad lane, greeting one another and exchanging items and pleasantries. Tree spirits were hauling carts to and fro, delivering goods and taking orders for future deliveries. Here and there, humans were directing lost souls to those places they needed to go, readying storefronts, hurrying orders out to delivery drivers on bicycles, or just chatting nervously about the presence of the military.
Several women had noticed him, but had been dissuaded from approaching him by a cordon of Shiori's team that had taken up positions to give him the time he needed to prepare to handle 'outsiders'. He pretended to not notice them, more to avoid the need to engage in formal pleasantries than anything, and it itched each time he felt someone stop and stare at what had become something of an oddity.
"Ah," a familiar voice said from his side, "there you are, my lad."
Looking down and to his right, he saw The Grovemother's wizened features smiling up at him. Pushing himself upright, he bowed in greeting. "Good morning, ma'am."
"Feh," she snorted, "no need for 'ma'am'. We're bound by the soul, the two of us. You wouldn't greet your hand with such formality, would you?"
The absence of any form of irritation in his mind regarding her presence at his side let him relax some. "Maybe I should. After all, it's because my hand is there that I'm able to hold my utensils. Eating would be hard without it."
She bapped his leg with her cane, laughing uproariously. "That it would, my boy, that it would!" She began to look about as well, joining him in watching people move about their morning. "Isako-chan is worried about you," she said with quiet urgency.
He had no doubt that she would be, and that hurt him. "I don't know if-"
"Shush." Instead of using her cane, she patted his knee with her hand gently. "I understand what you fear, and I understand why you fear. Things moved far too fast, not simply for my taste but in truth. The powers that control all of our lives pushed you into a situation you could never have been ready for to fight against that monster," she gestured up to the orb at the center of everything, "and that created a weakness in what should have been your greatest strength." Waiting for her words to sink in, she returned to watching people.
"I…don't want to hurt them."
"Of course not. That helps make my task easier, knowing that by helping you have time to settle yourself you will be doing so with others in mind. Let them prove themselves to you, learn how to speak with them regarding your fear, and trust that you have powerful allies willing to come to your side when you need us."
He nodded, understanding where she was coming from now. "Could…you tell them that I do miss them? I just…."
"You need time. I'll make sure they understand." She hesitated, then added, "Yukiko Amagi has chosen to leave this world to join her mother. The Wanderer personally made certain she was handed over safely."
That his first emotional impulse was relief confused him. "I will have to thank him later, then. I asked him to keep them safe, and he's been good to his word." The others will be sad. "If…uhm, if I write a quick letter, would you deliver it to them for me?"
"Of course." Standing still as he dashed over to the military personnel, she had a mournful cast to her features. Once he was out of hearing, she breathed out, "His hill has become steeper, and yet he acts with relief."
+++++ NERV. (Thursday, September 9th, +19, Waxing Crescent 2/4)
Across the city, inside of NERV, the ladies were morosely sitting around the common room performing those tasks that would keep them from engaging with one another. Yuka worked with Sadayo on the teacher's physical therapy, keeping her tone light and her emotions buried. Mitsuru continued to sift through the CVs she'd been given for the position of her assistant, outwardly unruffled by Yukiko's decision. Rise listened to music through noise-cancelling headphones while catching up on important reading of her own. Isako had self-selected to do what she had been doing since everyone woke up and congregated that morning: watch Chie Satonaka for the moment the young brawler finally popped.
Chie had been friends with Yukiko since childhood. She had protected her friend from bullies, from groping assholes, from teachers who became too overbearing, from anything and everything she could. She had, for the longest time, drawn a great deal of confidence from her capacity to keep Yukiko happy when seemingly nobody else could. That Yukiko had left was bad enough, that she'd left without saying a word…that was devastating.
She wished Shinji was there. She wished she was smart enough to understand the way the others seemed to understand. She wished she could just…just see him for a few minutes. Just long enough to tell him that no matter what he was going through, she'd help him. No matter what he was thinking, she'd listen. Her eyes caught motion in front of her on the tea table. From her slouched position in the chair, she was nearly at eye-level with Sachiel as the powerful being looked at her with a subtle tilt of its beaked mask.
They deserve better. They deserve more…but Maya says to trust them, so does Hikaru. Shinji's thoughts drifted into focus in Chie's mind. I shouldn't think of them as a group. It's not like they're even the same kind of person. Well…Rise and Mitsuru have a lot in common. So do Sadayo and Isako. Yuka's her own person, just like Chie. There was a brief pause. I kinda miss Chie. She's easy to get along with. She…I don't know, she gets me. Damn it. I should have put in a separate note for her. Amagi-san was her best friend, she said. Hopefully she understands that she's safe now…I wish Chie was safe.
Tears blossomed in her eyes anew. Hoping beyond hope that he'd hear her, she tried to speak in turn, I'm safest wherever you are, Shinji-kun.
Sachiel shook his head slowly, indicating that the connection was only one way. Once his charge choked out a sob, he was pleased to see the room collapse towards Chie to do what could be done to comfort their friend. As taciturn as the multiversal embodiment of liquid was, he still understood the value of words to those that were not of him. With the situation stable once more, he vanished back to his own realm to continue attempting to puzzle out how the other woman he was connected to managed to constantly screw up the basic alchemical reactions around cooking food.
+++++ Tokyo-3. (Thursday, September 9th, +19, Waxing Crescent 2/4)
Walking 'alone' down the broad lane, Shinji spent his first lap window-shopping. Fortunately access to the general public had been allowed at a manageable level so the shops weren't left to languish, which also gave him a chance to see everyone's reactions to the new 'norm'. Whether via social convention or planned action, he was given a wide berth by anyone and everyone present, which stopped him from feeling as anxious as he thought he was going to be at the beginning of the day.
After covering all portions of the forked lane, arriving back at the beginning where Shiori was chatting with the public to 'win hearts and minds' as she put it, Shinji stopped to inform the military attaché he was familiar with of his itinerary. "Captain?"
The woman spun on her heel, her attention now fully on his condition, his actions, and his words. "Yes, sir?"
Glancing down at her nametag, then back up to her, he hesitated before asking, "How long do you think they'll have you attached to me?"
"I have been informed that my assignment is for the duration, sir." Worry crossed her handsome features. "Have I offended you somehow?"
"Oh, n-no," he waved both hands trying to ward off the comment, "I just…I'd rather not keep calling you 'captain'. If we're going to be around each other constantly, I'd rather be able to use your name…but I don't want to get you in trouble."
Her mind rapidly sorted through the expected customs and courtesies. "You are not a member of the armed forces, you aren't an elected official, you don't hold a UN rank…Miyashiro-san?"
Shiori glanced over in their direction, "Yo?"
"He's a civilian, right?"
"Yep. The only other possible designation is 'conscript', but he's genuinely volunteered to fight to keep us safe so that one isn't really descriptive." Winking at Shinji and clicking her cheek, she got a tight smile in return. "Saluting him isn't a good idea anyway, he's very reserved."
The Captain nodded slowly. "Ok…yeah. That will work." Refocusing on Shinji, she gave him a weak grin. "If you'd like me to call you Shinji, you can call me Natsumi."
"Great," he stated with a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Natsumi. I'm going to stop at every store and purchase…something. Since I'd rather nobody know where I live for now, is there someone here I can ask them to take what I purchase to?"
"I will happily coordinate that for you," Natsumi replied quickly. "Please, send any runners to me. We'll be inspecting any packages for possible…tampering, so if they are to be wrapped as gifts ask that they wrap them here where it can be supervised."
The attack on NERV a week or so past flashed through his mind. "…Right. Thank you for reminding me to be cautious." Bowing politely, he turned on his heel and approached the first little shop on his right. A bakery, it sold inexpensive sweets intended to lighten moods. The wafting scent of muffins greeted him as he pushed the door open, as did all three employees.
At a volume pitched between loud and louder, and a tone that nearly caused him to bolt from the store in a panic, came a unified cry of, "Welcome to the store!"
"S-sorry t-o…." Regaining control of himself was hard, eased only by the way they looked at him with empathy.
"I had heard that you weren't given a normal childhood," the older of the three employees stated as she came around the counter to approach him with warmth and welcome. "Reiko, let everyone know to tone it down some, ok?"
The youngest employee, a year Shinji's junior, pulled her phone out and began tapping away at a message. "On it."
Somewhere between the other two in age, the third leaned atop the counter and smiled with genuine excitement. "So, what can we get for you today, good sir?"
With his nerves evening out, Shinji let the elder of the three guide him to the display counter. Each of the options available looked to have been handmade. The small eccentricities that are only able to be created by hand instead of a machine noticeable to his experienced eye. Without touching the glass, he noted as much aloud, "These are all handmade. Is your kitchen here?"
"Do you bake, senpai?" Reiko moved over to stand by the middle, looking at him with a bright smile.
He couldn't smell any emotional falsity, each of the three women seemed earnest in their lack of subterfuge. "I'm, uhm…I'm self-taught. I learned from reading…and failing."
"Oh, I know exactly how that feels," the elder laughed out, her tone rich. "This shop has been in our family since before this area became concrete and steel. My father 'taught' me the way his father taught him, handed me a library worth of books and told me I had a month to soak in all the information or he was sending me away somewhere with a school that'd teach me another trade." She gestured to a large double door. "He told me I'd have all the material I needed to learn with, but it was sink or swim."
"That sounds like Granddad, yep," the middle stated with a half-grin.
"He died right after I was born," the youngest added as an aside. "I wish I could have known him, all the local aunties say that he could make anything with nothing."
Shinji could commiserate. "I know what you mean…I don't remember my father. He died when I was three."
"Well, I'm assuming that our dad died," the middle looked to the younger, then back to Shinji. "All the men but you seem to have disappeared."
"Psh, dad 'disappeared' a long time ago." His junior flapped her hands. "Shacked up with a Brazillian with fake tits, fake ass, and fake visa. He then proceeded to fake sending us support."
When his countenance dropped towards displeasure, the elder cut in quickly, "I'm afraid my daughters picked up my tendency towards salty language, sir. I apolo-"
Blinking in confusion, Shinji looked at her. "Oh, uh…no. I don't mind if they swear, I'm upset that someone would make a promise and then break it." Looking around the room, he could feel the 'lived in' vibe. "This seems like a really nice bakery. I don't know why someone would willingly give it up over something as…mundane as sex."
The elder of the two daughters asked with a hint of amusement, "Mundane?"
"Hmm?" He turned back to her, then nodded. "Yeah. I mean…everyone can do it. It's literally nothing more than mashing two bodies together to generate pleasure. If you agree to not pursue it with other people, though, that's important. Most marriages are meant to be a two-person thing, and violating that is…abhorrent. If you have an understanding with someone else that you are going to be, or do, something…you do it."
"Your girlfriend is really lucky to have you, then," the junior said, a hint of subterfuge entering her scent. "I've had two boyfriends, and they both cheated on me with the same girl. Amano-san, she's in the class next to yours."
Unable to tell which part of her statement might have been a falsehood, Shinji kept his reply neutral, "I don't have a girlfriend. Not in the sense you'd use it." He frowned. "She's insisting that I share myself with others." Shaking his head, he resumed inspecting the baked treats. "Sorry, I probably said too much. I'd like to buy a few things to try myself, and some to send to the people here protecting me."
"We're a very open family," the elder sister said, reaching across the counter and patting Shinji on the shoulder. "We call it like we see it, and we're not afraid to listen to strangers in need."
"If we ever go back to school, I'd be happy to help wherever I can," the junior added, bouncing lightly on her toes.
The scent of innocence had returned in full to the room, they were honestly happy to help him. "Thank you." His mind pinged off an idea. "How about I try something each of you have made? I'd love to chat about whatever for a bit before I have to move on."
+++++ Tokyo-3. (Thursday, September 9th, +19, Waxing Crescent 2/4)
Shiori picked up her cellphone when she heard it ring with the Kirijo family ringtone. "Miyashiro."
"Good afternoon," Mitsuru replied, her voice laden with fatigue. "I've forwarded the candidates to your lieutenant. How is my husband doing?"
"Pretty good, actually." She motioned for her second-in-command to reposition a few of their snipers. "He just walked into a bakery. The one on Seventh, at the Old Hakone strip mall?"
"I'm afraid I've not had the pleasure."
"You know you could have just asked one of us to escort you there, right?"
"Of course."
Letting the silence stretch a bit, Shiori hoped the right question would be asked. When nothing came, she grimaced in irritation. "Anything else I can do?"
"Please continue to keep him safe. Has anyone told him about Yukiko-chan?"
"The tree lady. He said he wrote you a letter on it."
"I'm sure I'll receive it before too long," she whispered with increasing sorrow. "Thank you, Miyashiro-san. I'm sure I'll call again if there's anything you can do."
+++++ Tokyo-3. (Thursday, September 9th, +19, Waxing Crescent 2/4)
The next several stores were run by various tree spirits, each of which were enthusiastic and attentive. The spirits were just as excited about the opportunity to 'pretend' to be store owners as they were about interacting with Shinji, spending a large amount of their time discussing what would be the 'perfect' items to purchase for himself or someone in his orbit. By the time he left their stores, he had a bemused grin on his face and a much more buoyant mood. In his mind, they were children. Little ones who wanted nothing more than to show what they'd learned at school, to share their knowledge with someone they considered important. His natural dour negativity couldn't gain traction against such weapons as that.
It was, quite likely, that upbeat mood that saved him from a fight that he was not prepared for. Between one store and the next, he felt a shift in the air. The light became tinted red, the air grew sterile and cold, and with his inhuman reflexes he had his dagger out and ready to commit violence in defense of the civilians around him. Turning on his heel and assuming the stance he'd learned from Motsuki, he found that he was now facing the judgement of what could only be described as an immortal agent of a greater power.
Golden blonde hair framed a face that held both serenity and power. Electric blue eyes radiated lethality and an aura of command. The hints of masculinity were difficult to perceive against the androgynous cast his features maintained, or the fair skin that only teased the true power his muscles could bring to bear. The stranger watched Shinji for a handful of seconds, his longsword still sheathed behind him, before nodding once in greeting. "Worry not, our battle need not yet commence. I have accelerated your perception of time to the point that this meeting will be over before anyone knows that we have met."
"Michael, you are currently breaking at least seven different rules that I can prove with just attestation." Hikaru's appearance was accompanied by a bone-chilling blast of frigid air. "Talk fast, before I enforce them."
The Archangel was unflustered, nodding politely to Hikaru. "I am attempting to understand the Demiurge, Dawn-Bringer. His motivations are a mystery to me, and to our brothers. His intentions run counter to our expectations, his actions do not speak of what our Father portends."
Interrupting the conversation by raising his hand slightly, Shinji looked to Hikaru as well, "Uhm…'our'?"
"A limitation of your language, Demiurge," Michael apologized. "We all share the same progenitor. In your language, there is no word for a non-gendered grouping of individuals crafted, not born, by the same person with the appropriate societal intent. 'Brothers', in this usage, is intended to express our shared ancestry, nothing more."
"Some of us enjoy possessing gendered characteristics, Michael," Hikaru retorted tartly.
"Our brothers do not share that predilection," he replied with a shrug. "If you would prefer that I refer to you as my sister for the purposes of this conversation, I have no qualms with obliging you."
Shinji was once more forced to intervene, "Is 'Demiurge' another one of those names I'm starting to gather?"
"A title, not an appellation." The golden-haired Archangel brushed the family squabbles aside to return to his main purpose for being where he was. "You are, and will remain, Shinji Ikari for so long as you choose to retain that designation. However, you are a Demiurge now that you have been accepted by the Magatama." He gestured to the back of his own neck, tapping two fingers on the spot where Shinji had been gifted the odd creature. "The purpose of my visit, as I indicated, is to attempt to understand what you mean to do with your power."
"…Protect what's left?" Shinji slid his dagger back into his soul, realizing that this wasn't going to be the fight he'd believed it to be. "I just want to everyone to leave me alone. I can't return everything to the way it was. I can't undo the damage that's been done. I can't force The Wanderer to do more than he has. I'm going to fight whoever comes here to hurt people, I'm going to track down whoever is sending them, and I'm going to kill them if I have to."
"So you choose stillness, Shijima? A world without conflict?"
"No," he shook his head firmly, "I don't care. I'd rather everyone get along, but I'm not going to make them. Peace is impossible with the people I've fought, because they view us with complete contempt. They won't talk, they just attack. I'm strong, and I'm stronger in my Eva, but I don't want to use that strength to just bully everyone into submission."
"So you wish to wrap yourself in isolation, Musubi? A world where each is alone to create their own world without the interference of others?"
Surprising even himself, Shinji replied, "…No. I want people to leave me alone, but I don't want…I don't want to be alone. A world without Maya, or Chie, or Yuka…or any of the others isn't…." He felt Hikaru hug him from the side, and slipped an arm around her shoulders in return. "There's good in people that you can only experience if you accept the bad. I have to be strong enough to endure the bad so that I can experience the good. People need to have the freedom to do the same for themselves. I can't make them do it either, it's up to them to choose. If they fail, they fail…I don't know. They shouldn't have to rely on me to be good people."
Michael nodded, seeming to understand. "So you wish for people to rely on their own strength, Yosuga? A world where the weak perish and the strong survive?"
"No!"
"He's not like you, Michael," Hikaru sighed out. "The four of you have your own fetish for misunderstood Darwinism. He means that they should be what they are, not that people shouldn't receive a helping hand when things outside of their own control hurt them."
The Archangel scowled. "So you do not believe in an ordered existence?"
With Asura's words prompted to mind by the reference to order, Shinji met Michael's scowl with one of his own. "There is more to life than its endpoint, more than just walking from point to point like checking off items on a to-do list. Living means dealing with the natural chaos of life, living with other people means agreeing to rules. Just because the rules need to be enforced by people with the strength to do so does not mean the strongest get to make the rules."
"Without strength, there can be no 'rules'," Michael rebutted. "You have seen what comes of a lack of will, firsthand. There is a natural order that flows from the will of the great."
Feeling Hikaru about to interject, Shinji squeezed her side to silence her. "Yes, there is. Fear is another word for that kind of 'order', and I'm not going to let anyone use fear to control people. If you need the fear of punishment to force you to not be an asshole, then you will never be the kind of person I'm interested in being around. You want to know what kind of world I want? I want a world where everyone wants to be a good person. Where they disagree with one another and debate differences in their points of view without getting violent. Where everyone wants to help each other, no matter which god they pray to or language they speak. Where the people who can't quite figure that simple issue out, who use fear, pain, and strength to get what they want are deposed, jailed, or if necessary, killed. In almost three weeks of freedom, I've found the good I believed didn't exist for the first two decades of my damn life!"
For several long heartbeats, the tension in the air was a physical force. Michael's scowl deepened, his radiant aura seeking to crush everything. After a long ten count, he blew out a slow breath and let his aura dissipate. "Finally…." With a soft smile, he bowed in a more Western style to Shinji. "I submit to your Reason, Demiurge. Hashem will face you without my aid."
"…Holy shit," Hikaru uttered in disbelief. "Are you serious?!"
"They are not our Father. I know that I am not strong enough to oppose Them on my own, nor am I strong enough with Raphael, Gabriel, and Uriel at my side. They know how to defeat us, which is why They rose to Their undeserved position. Him?" Michael gestured to Shinji. "Without any support, he is capable of defeating Them. With the support of true and noble allies, he is capable of far more than defeating Them."
With a crow of delight, Hikaru launched herself over to hug her brother tightly. Laughing as Michael tolerated her exuberance, she looked back to Shinji with an inhuman affection. "This absolutely guts the trials! Everyone below Michael will now refuse to fight, citing the order of events not being properly filled!"
Shinji was floored. For once, without a shot fired, he'd won.
+++++ The Silent World.
"Is that her?" Sailor Jupiter asked Daphne, the tall Sailor carrying a half ton of dark grey paving bricks for the diminutive earth goddess.
"It is." Using the bricks to outline a pathway that would keep people from straying onto freshly planted crops, Daphne avoided looking directly at the pale beauty that had come from a foreign dimension to run away from a man that she herself would have given anything to support.
"She's…not bad looking."
"She's not a threat to our position, either."
"Psh, from what Shinji said last night he wants less than nothing to do with her."
Daphne looked askance at her partner for the day. "His reasoning has more to do with not hurting her feelings by reminding her of what she has so recently sacrificed, than contempt for her existence."
"He seemed pretty torqued to me."
"He feels keenly a need to support those who are hurting, child. He refuses to send one of us to help her, as it would single her out unfairly. The people who saw us spending time around her would think that she had caught his eye and would push her towards him. He is being forced to sit back and watch someone suffer, and that suits him poorly."
"What?"
"He is a Titan, a primal being of the oldest order. If people wish fervently enough for something, he will be forced to respond to their prayers. If he denies their prayer, that denial will become a palpable ill upon them. If their prayer gives offense, he is bound to smite them. If he grants their prayer, it might be something that hurts people simply by virtue of what was prayed for. In this instance, he doubts seriously that the young woman wished to leave one Shinji Ikari only to become bound to another. He would reflexively seek to deny their prayer, and likely take offense that someone would wish for another to find love with someone they do not see in such a way. He is angry because he cannot take action without creating reactions that would undermine everything he would wish to see happen."
"…What?"
+++++ Tokyo-3. (Thursday, September 9th, +19, Waxing Crescent 2/4)
Needing to process everything that he'd just seen and heard, Shinji spent a bit longer in the next store on his trip. That this store was one that provided musical instruments of all specifications helped him do so all the better. After greeting the owner and her associates, who graciously recognized that he was in need of some time to think, he walked along the walls and aisles looking at the beautifully designed instruments.
One particular bass guitar caught his eye, the deep, rich, purple matching Unit-01's coloration nicely. The strings were all coated with some sort of material that made them shine with an eye-popping yellow-green, the fretboard's bars a vibrant red. Dangling, just above the instrument, was a sign that indicated that any instrument could be tested by customers so long as they did so on the soundstage to avoid clogging the walkways. After a brief mental debate, he hefted the guitar and walked over to the soundstage to plug it in and see how it sounded. Tuning the instrument was second nature, finding D#, G#, C#, and F# without external input. After a quartet of open strums to adjust the volume of the amplifier, he played through the opening bars of a song that thinking of Yuka reminded him of.
One of the assistants, a reedy college-aged young woman, waggled her hands in excitement and reached back behind the counter for an instrument case. What she pulled out pegged her as a guitarist, and with the various stickers she had applied as someone who preferred 'harder' music. Dashing over and plugging in her own guitar, she played the opening notes for 'her part', then looked at him with an open question.
With a half-smile and a shrug of one shoulder, he gave his approval for her to jam with him. Before they could start, however, the owner stood up and walked over to sit at the drums and give her support. The owner, a middle-aged woman that he guessed to be around her early fifties, quickly arranged the kit to her preference, looked to both guitarists with the same open question, and earned a now warm smile from Shinji and an excited wink from her assistant. Four taps of the cymbal later, the trio were having a blast playing the song that Shinji was hyperfocused on.
Lasting just over two and a half minutes, the song itself wasn't very long. Packed into that time, however, was an energy that screamed of choosing freedom over societal pressures. Of not listening to the roar of the mob telling you how to think, what to think. Who to fear and who to hate. Shinji didn't sing the first time through, as was his place to, simply enjoying the sound of the instruments for what they were.
After a brief bit of silent encouragement, his two temporary bandmates prompted him to play through again now that they'd had a practice run. This time, he sang. He sang of a war against dictatorship, whether by the masses or by supposed leaders. He sang of the fight being endless, the laziness of humanity causing the struggle to never end. He sang of media-induced blindness, stagnant myopia preventing people from seeing the truth. He sang against servitude, and began to realize that he could never serve 'Her'. Asura might understand him, entice him…make him feel the blessed numbness he'd long desired, but she would never heal him. He couldn't allow his desire to not exist any longer dictate the lives of everyone else. He couldn't give in to the easy path of ennui. He had to fight.
+++++ Tokyo-3. (Thursday, September 9th, +19, Waxing Crescent 2/4)
Shiori Miyashiro considered herself a fair woman. Everyone was given the same chance to prove who and what they were, regardless of the circumstances of their birth. Few people ever managed to actually hide anything from her for very long, a product of both her upbringing and professional choices. Watching on the enormous television secured to the central building between the two legs of the 'Y' that made up the shopping center as Shinji belted out song after song in immaculate English while playing the bass guitar with a woman that was at least two decades her senior and another that couldn't have been off her mother's apron strings very long accompanying him, she had an urge to go in, grab Shinji, and force him to tell her everything he was capable of doing.
Right now, however, she needed to deal with the fact that somehow the music store was capable of broadcasting a live feed over the MAGI-net. Borrowing a technician from the JSSDF, she tasked two of her own to accompany the young private to emplace ECM equipment where necessary to cut the signal at the source. "Captain, if you would be so kind as to have someone give me a line to NERV. They need to get on top of this right now if we want to have any chance of salvaging today."
Natsumi Yoshino nodded and put someone on the radio equipment they carried on the heavy APC. "He's got a very distinct singing style. It's…forced, but so practiced that it feels natural."
"Yeah, a decade and a half living with a psychopathic bitch that insists on unfailing perfection in everything will do that to a man." Biting down on one thumbnail, she decided on the number of additional hands she'd require to prevent the problem from blooming into a disaster. "'Ey Suppo, call in five and six, send them to the far side. Get three here. If this turns pear-shaped, we'll need their car."
"If he needs to leave in a hurry, wouldn't the APC be preferable?" Natsumi kept her voice low, not wanting anyone to see a rift in command where there wasn't one.
"He'll leave in the APC, but we'll pretend he's in the car. It's got tinted windows and thick plating for just such ruses. While everyone's chasing the car, we'll camp him here in the APC pretending that we're not leaving because the vehicle might hurt someone. Once a path clears, we leave like nothing important is going on. He's safe, no one gets hurt, smooth and easy."
She quirked her lips to the side, nodding slowly. "Underhanded…I like it."
Shiori grinned, still watching the impromptu concert. "I knew you'd grow on me."
+++++ NERV. (Thursday, September 9th, +19, Waxing Crescent 2/4)
"What do you mean you can't?" Misato was standing behind Ritsuko, who was actively banging away at a MAGI terminal to interrupt the system-wide broadcast of their favorite, and only, young man being a young man. "Just tell them to black box it!"
"I would love to do that, Misato. The problem is, the MAGI get a vote too and they're telling me that the broadcast isn't actually happening. They can't block what they can't see." Ritsuko, between command lines, tapped out a number on her phone.
The other line was picked up quickly. Kyoko's tone was chiding, "Liebling, this is most unlike you."
"I'm well aware of my reputation, sensei," she retorted with a touch of heat. "Whoever is broadcasting this is doing so below Level-1, somehow. The MAGI don't see this as real."
There was a heavy pause. "You cannot insert commands below Level-1, nor could you get into the security zone to hide components to operate independent of the hierarchy without…."
"Thank you for catching up to the class, sensei. Now can I kindly get you to come down here and help me find out what my whore of a mother has done to the fucking MAGI?"
"We are on our way," Yui Ikari's voice announced, frost clinging to each word.
The line went dead, and Ritsuko stopped typing. "There's nothing I can do. My privileges don't extend far enough to shut down the MAGI, and if I take the kinetic route that's tantalizingly calling out to me, I'm going to die painfully."
"What if I did it?" Misato ran her thumb along the grip of her pistol, her fingers itching at the holster on her hip. "This is giving away his position, which is technically an emergency."
"Cat's out of the bag," she harumphed. "The downtime we'd face while we fixed the MAGI physically would be unacceptable."
"Do you need me here?"
"Got a date?"
"No, I'm going to put a hurry on Section Two's response. I just don't want to abandon you here if I'm helping to keep you calm. Two's bad, but far better than when Sampson was in charge."
Ritsuko's mood lightened slightly. Hearing that Misato was concerned, that their friendship remained still despite the recent stresses, did help. "Go. I'm angry, but I'm not panicking. Do what you can to keep our boytoy safe." Letting the violet-haired Captain kiss her on the head, she admired the view as she raced out of the room. Once the door closed, she rubbed her wrists against her eyes. "Having Maya here would be nice, though."
+++++ Tokyo-3. (Thursday, September 9th, +19, Waxing Crescent 2/4)
The first words Shinji spoke within the music store were, "Thank you." He'd set the bass guitar on the counter, intending to buy it simply to have a 'good memory' from owning the first instrument he'd played of his own desires. The associates were gathered, but not crowded, around him and his eyes held each in turn to include them in his gratitude. "I feel a world better now, and I owe that to your skills as much as this…unique guitar."
"You are always welcome to come back, anytime you want to," the owner assured him in a warm, inviting, voice. "You've got serious talent, unlike most of the young hooligans we had coming in here before everything changed. Bunch of young men just preening and posturing, not an ounce of recognition of what music's really about in their souls."
One of the younger associates looked to her boss. "I thought music was about fun?"
"No," Shinji shook his head. "Music can be fun, but it's not 'about' fun. Music is about saying what you feel with more than just words. Music is about getting what's stuck in here," he grasped at his heart loosely, "out into the world. Concertos, symphonies, all the way back to people just banging on hollow logs and rocks…it's a way of expressing what can't be expressed. It's a way of sharing yourself with everyone, without being forced to pick and choose words that never fit right." His smile grew, the series of realizations he'd experienced since setting foot in the shop improving his mood by leaps and bounds. "How much will I owe you?"
The boss pursed her lips and tilted her head in thought. "Normally, around seventy-four thousand Yen. For you…." There was a hint of hesitation. "A signed group photo, and a quick meeting in my office to discuss a business proposition." She gestured to the framed photos, all of which featured her and an assortment of other people.
Shinji wasn't familiar with popular culture enough to recognize faces, but the way that they held their instruments in the photo told him that these were 'local acts', and some nationally or perhaps even internationally famous bands. "Business?"
"I do not hang any photos without legal disclaimers signed and approved by both parties," she said with a shrug. "The last thing I want to do is put up a photo and have someone famous lawyer up and come after me. I pay you a nominal fee for the right to hang one photo up in my shop, you agree that it's a licensed copy of your likeness so that I can't be sued."
"Oh…yeah, no, that makes sense." He nodded amicably. "Sure, I'd be ok with signing something letting you hang a picture up. If I could get my own copy of it, that'd be great."
Her smile was pleased. "Absolutely."
+++++ Tokyo-3. (Thursday, September 9th, +19, Waxing Crescent 2/4)
"BIC, we're getting official word to leave him be," Shiori's second-in-command sounded baffled by the incongruity. "I've asked for coded confirmation, codes are good."
Natsumi and Shiori shared a look of doubt. The former offered, "You were ordered to leave him be. Mind if I act 'in the interest of national security'?"
"Pull him out, real gentle-like," Shiori agreed slowly. "No fuss, 'abundance of caution'. I'll let you drive him to the rally point; we'll pull escort with your rearguard. Claim that we were simply keeping the peace with our playmates."
Putting a finger on her throat mic, Natsumi issued the orders. "Aegis-Two, Aegis-Three, this is Actual. Renegade. I say again, Renegade. Over."
The reply was quick in arriving, "Actual, Aegis-Two confirms. Establishing perimeter." Followed by, "Aegis-Three, copy. En route, ETA one mike."
+++++ Tokyo-3. (Thursday, September 9th, +19, Waxing Crescent 2/4)
Sitting on a comfortable couch, Shinji was walked through the documentation by the store's owner. It was a simple one-page form, but she wanted to be certain he had read everything. That she was sitting next to him, leaning lightly against him with her upper body turned at an appealing angle, somehow didn't register in his mind as flirtation. It wasn't that he was offended by her age, as it had simply refined her natural beauty, but that he earnestly thought she was simply being a kind person by explaining terms that he wasn't familiar with. Eye contact wasn't something he was really good at anyway, and his tendency to look down meant that he couldn't really look over at her without catching an eyeful of cleavage, so he kept his eyes on the form while nodding at the appropriate times.
"And here," she finished, "is where you'd put your signature." Tapping the final box with the non-writing end of a pen, she looked up into his face with a hint of amusement. "Does it make sense?"
Instinctively, he knew that he had to make eye contact to remain polite. When he did so, he saw what should have been obvious to anyone raised in 'normal conditions'. "Y-yes…uhm…."
When she expected to see sheepish innocence, the woman was surprised to find that he instead looked at her with only a hint of confusion. "Too old?"
He shook his head, "No. Just…wasn't thinking of doing that in such a public place. I wouldn't call you old, regardless. Not if you're still here." Looking back down at the paper, he signed it with appropriate care. "The only women left are those that will survive having sex with me, which means you can still have a child. When you can't have children anymore, that's when I figure someone is 'old'."
"If you're opposed to exhibitionism," she pulled a business card off her nearby desk and jotted down her personal cell number on the back before sliding into the pocket of his overshirt, "why don't you give me a call and we'll arrange a more…intimate meeting?" There was a curiosity about her gaze, wondering how he would react.
Before he could answer either way, the door to the room was forced open by a heavy boot. A bruiser of a woman wearing a JSSDF uniform and the rank of a senior NCO stepped into the office and motioned for Shinji to stand up. "We've been asked to recall you to home base, sir. There's been an incident in the White Room."
Shinji popped up without hesitation, recognizing the codeword he'd been given to memorize at the beginning of the day. The JSSDF had found something they were worried about, and for the safety of the public they were cutting things short. "Thank you for the help today, ma'am. Please send the picture and guitar to the JSSDF, they'll make sure it gets to me." Without waiting for a reply, he entered the short hallway between the office and the main store. Two Marines took positions ahead of him, the Senior NCO and two other Soldiers fell into place around and behind him. Another squad already had a defensive perimeter established, and once they were outside the store and in motion he asked in a low voice, "Can I borrow one of-"
He never heard the crack of the rifle firing, didn't feel himself fall to the ground and bounce off the asphalt, didn't hear the women around him engage months, years, or decades of muscle memory reflexes. He didn't experience being hauled up onto the Senior NCO's shoulders into a fireman's carry, hear the reports of contact with the enemy, or witness the sight of an entire host of spiritual beings flood into the marketplace to hurry the JSSDF to safety. He didn't feel the blood emptying from the hole in the side of his head, or the panic the sight caused those who saw it happen.
+++++ Author's Note.
KnownAsWilson: RE: Control.
I have not played the game, no. I haven't had time to sit down and play a game since the start of the pandemic, unfortunately. I think I can throw on a playthrough this weekend to watch while I'm performing maintenance on the data center, try to give a more informed position on whether or not I could make a crossover work later. I'm always game for experiencing well-told stories, regardless of genre.