I do not own the rights to Neon Genesis Evangelion, or any of the characters, equipment, or locations written in this fanfiction. The purpose of this fanfiction is merely for the non-profit enjoyment of other readers. If requested by Gainax, Hideki Anno, or other parties which represent aforementioned objects in this story, I will remove it promptly.

Chapter XXI:

I had promised myself I would try to keep my cool, and simply deal with each problem in class as it came. There was little else I could do about the hazing and not be arrested for a felony. I had even gone so far as to buy a few packs of chewing gum to spare my teeth, as I find I clench them too often when people irritate me. The promise lasted for about half an hour as I walked to school, when I found the situation he was in.

Shinji was leaning against the southern wall of the junior high school, his head slumped forward. On the ground beside his feet I saw a small puddle of blood. As I came closer, I noticed the droplets of the crimson fluid coming from the boy's nose, and the blue marks on his face. Kensuke was beside him, his nearly pressed white dress shirt covered in permanent marker graffiti. Aida was trying to stop the bleeding, but Shinji's nose would not comply. Looking over the nerd, I noticed a few similar bruises over his face and his forearms. Whatever happened, it looks like Aida at least tried to put up a fight.

sImmediately I felt for my folding knife, which while against school regulations, was a comfort to have after so much trouble came my way. "What happened?" I asked, approaching the boys. Neither would answer at first. Either way, they didn't need to answer, as the graffiti on Kensuke's shirt and the laughter of the girls in the courtyard told me everything I needed to know. They weren't after Kensuke or Shinji.

They were after me, and anyone related to me would suffer to make me suffer.

As I glanced over to the girls again, their faces wrinkled as they laughed hysterically, I couldn't help but start thinking very wrong, racist thoughts. I really was a gaijin to them, no matter if I saved their lives or not. They were just a bunch of worthless, lying filth that needed to be dealt with in as harsh a fashion as Little Boy and Fatman on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. It didn't matter what the consequences were to me. People who did as little as speak to me in a non-hostile manner had been attacked. If they were truly friends, they would have taken worse.

Asuka and Hikari ran down the courtyard, arriving to school a few minutes later than I. "What happened to the stooges?" Soryu grumbled. "You're supposed to stand up for yourselves!" I shot the German a look, and while I didn't see it, I could tell my irises had turned to black again, as Soryu cringed. Hikari was a little more caring, but not much. "What-what are you doing?" Asuka asked.

"Call Misato," I growled, pulling out my knife. I flicked the blade open just a foot away from the Second Child's face. Both the pair of girls and boys flinched, darting away from me. "Tell Misato to get Section Two down here to deal with those pack of girls, or I will."

"What are you going to do?"

Of course, Misato and Section Two did not respond in time, and as those five minutes seemed to last for decades, I had chosen my path. I would gladly live in darkness if it meant these people were the light.

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"Gaijin!" the girls all chimed in sing-song fashion simultaneously as I approached. "Gaijin! Gaijin!" They continued to chant it, not hesitating as I waved the knife playfully in their direction, seeming to think it was a joke. They stopped thinking that way when I continued to advance, flipping the weapon in my palm, carrying it blade down, my hands blocking my chest protectively. That was when they started to clump together like a school of fish, trying to avoid the shark.

And, just like a shark, I struck quickly, just grazing my first target's right forearm. She was the fattest of the group, and therefore the easiest prey. The injury was hardly more than a clean paper cut, but that was how a shark attacked. They first took a less lethal bite as a taste test, and to gauge their prey's response.

Now the girls starting shouting, their tones aggressive. But these were the shrieks of terror, of animals trying to mask their fear with anger and threats of retaliation. Slowly working my way into the group of five girls, they started to pound at me with their fists. Forming a circle, they hoped to entrap me. However, I kept thinking like a shark, and walked along the inner perimeter of my newfound cage of prey. I found the fat one again, and drew my knife faster along her skin, now cutting near her left knee. She started to whimper, and pulled away from the four remaining girls. That was a very stupid mistake.

I burst through the newly formed hole in the defensive perimeter, charging after the fat one. She was slow, especially with the cut on her knee, causing her to limp slightly with pain. The blood was slowly painting the skin around the wound, droplets striking the ground occasionally. It was the kind of cut that could or could not justify stitches, depending on the diagnosis. But later on, this girl would need stitches.

Slipping the knife into my pants pocket of my suit, I jerked off the blazer, loosened my tie, and tackled the girl at a full out run. I had struck her close to her neck, delivering all my kinetic energy at the point of most leverage. She crumpled to the ground, and in an instant, I was lashing out at her with everything I could muster. Her friends surrounded us, but did not interfere. Instead, they continued to shout and scream, but the masks of anger were slipping away. They were just beginning to admit they were afraid.

I savagely beat the girl's face in, my knuckles bleeding. My blood and hers mingled over her cheeks, her nose, and her lips as I continued to hammer her skull. Shrill cries came from her swollen lips, but I did not stop until she went limp like a rag doll, simply taking the abuse. By the end, she was numbly whimpering, the tears flowing like unstoppable geysers.

I relaxed my fists, and rose to my feet. Turning around, the four girls had surrounded me again. This time, however, they were no longer chanting "gaijin", or any other insult my way. Instead, they just stared. Then, as I drew the knife from my pocket again, they began to bolt. One with horn-rimmed glasses tried to attend to the fat one, and that was deemed my next target. Ripping the glasses from her face, I threw them to the ground and stomped on them until they were flattened under my shoe. When she protested, I shoved her to ground, and tore the straps of her jumper and her bow tie.

Then I unleashed all hell as I started to throttle her neck. My mouth grinned wildly, saliva trickling down my sharp canines and into the surrounding grass as I studied my victim with pride. She would not need to die, I thought. She would never do this again, and I would prove to these people finally that I would not tread lightly in their crappy little town any longer.

"Pl-please!" her voice cracked as I tried in vain to crush her larynx. "Stop!" Her face was beginning to turn blue.

I gently, teasingly slid the dull end of my knife along her throat. "Why?" I hissed. "Why, when I am having fun?" I knew why, but I had chosen against being nice. I would have gladly stopped a half an hour ago, but my path was now dug and paved in concrete. I could not go back on what choice and fate had led me to. Savagery was my course, and I would keep to it.

Just then a heavy, burning pain filled the back of my head. My skull rattled for a few seconds as I thought about what could have possibly happened. Seeing the shadow coming from behind, the rectangular implement's form copied perfectly in the grass, I finally put the pieces together. Someone had hit me upside the head with a blunt instrument. That, however, would not stop me. Nothing would stop me.

Pulling the knife away, I turned to face the third girl in the group. She was almost a copy of Hikari, except for the single, thick braid tracing down to the small of her back. Now I knew precisely how to hurt her. The flagpole was only a few yards away, and her hair was easy enough to secure to the line. After I broke her nose and knocked the wind out of her, I shoved her into the flagpoke, leaving a vertical bruise down her forehead. Threading her hair into the rope, I began to pull. The girl was screaming at the top of her lungs, small strands of her hair ripping out of her scalp. I secured her hands behind her back around the flagpole, leaving her to simply observe as I went after the others.

The fourth and fifth girls had long since gone, but I knew what they looked like. They had to leave the school at one time or another. I also knew the fourth girl rode a bicycle to school. Making my way to the bike rack, I found the poor copy of a Schwin standing at the end of the rack. Again came out the knife as I slashed the tires. Then came the reflectors, which I tore from their brackets and tossed aside. Finally, I kicked the seat of the bike hard until it came loose, leaving the hollow metal bar protruding from the frame. A quick run to the garbage incinerator took care of the seat as well as the saddlebags for the girl's textbooks.

Then a thought occurred to me. Grabbing a nearby trash can, there was one last thing I had to do. The fifth girl was always driven to school by one of her parents, the beautiful vintage Lexus which still ran on gasoline sitting in the parking lot across the street. Her parent had not left the school yet. Taking my time, I strode to the car, and hurled the heavy steel can at the windshield. I continued to pound at it as the car alarm sounded. There was no fear, however, as the masses of students ran over to me, or the administrators. All I had left was anger.

Hikari came up behind me, as well as the father of the fifth girl, both panting from their sprint to the parking lot. When the older man saw the trash can sitting in the driver seat of his car, the windshield's remains glistening on the cement pavement, he turned to slap me. I let him take one strike, my head jerking to the side, but when he came at me again, I busted his lower ribs with my knee, adding a palm strike to his nose for good measure.

"Translate for the father, Hikari," I ordered. The class representative numbly nodded, as she was still in shock at the violent displays. "Your daughter and her friends beat up two people just for knowing me. They have taken lewd pictures of me in the locker room, spread rumors about me, and threatened my friends. They do this again, and I won't hurt them. I will come after you, and I will kill you."

Conveniently, the man spoke fluent English, as he was a business professional. Gasping on the ground, he glared up at me, his black suit and coated in a thin later of dust from the pavement. "How dare you threaten me!" he breathed hoarsely. "What can you possibly do? I will have you arrested!"

Reaching into my wallet, I threw my NERV identification down on the ground. The man's face went pale. "NERV will not allow me to be arrested by local authorities, as long as I have to fight. And I will fight, but I swear, if my friends are hurt again, I will target the civilian shelters. I will take human lives, and I will enjoy it!" Then I turned to Hikari, gripping her collar, jerking her to within inches of my face. "Just remember, you could have prevented this. You like responsibility, don't you? It turn you on? You can explain to the parents why the principal let their daughters do this to me and my friends. Then you can explain what I did to their girls, and what I will do to them if it happens again. Do you get me?"

The clouds started to roll in as I walked towards my apartment, the crack of thunder sounding in the distance. I was just about to turn the corner off the main road when I saw Misato's Renault finally pull into the parking lot behind me. The woman darted out of the car, approaching Hikari. I watched behind the corner of a building as she hugged Shinji, helping him and Kensuke into the car. Then the major kneeled by the Lexus, and picked up my identification card. She must have felt my eye on her, as she turned to glance towards me. However, I was already gone.

When I got home, I burst into the bathroom, and vomited, the thick, hearty breakfast I had not an hour before splattering in the toilet bowl. Punching the wall, I cursed, then tried emptying my stomach again. Wiping my mouth with a wrung out wash rag, I stared into the mirror. Two hours later, I checked the mirror again. My irises were still black, and would never change again.

End of Chapter XXI

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