"Japanese are rigid in their manners. The only occasions when they'll refer to someone without honorifics is if they are exceptionally close." Tourist guidebook for Japan

IV

Two more had succumbed to their wounds by the time he got back to his carriage's huddle of survivors. They'd already been laid down with hastily gathered blankets covering them. Next to one, a middle-aged man knelt and sobbed. The other remained alone.

The man who'd lent the phone was where he'd left him. He and many others couldn't tear their eyes away from that mighty creature continuing on its distant and unstoppable rampage. Although miles away, the survivors could still feel the ground shake. At regular intervals shockwaves would buffet them as gusts of wind. The occasional sonic boom would make the children scream and clasp their ears.

Shinji approached the sitting man. Phone in hand, he bowed politely.

"Thank you." He said, handing it to him.

"Hmm?" The businessman looked up at him. "Oh, you're welcome. Quick call?"

Useless as well. Shinji nodded regrettably.

The elder gave him a sympathetic smile, as if guessing it wasn't satisfactory, then looked back out at the unfolding apocalypse. More blood drained from his cheeks as the roar of guns ebbed away.

"What is it?" He whispered.

Shinji followed his gaze. All but finished with Imperial armour, the creature now tried to stomp at the ants that milled around it. With a grim pride, he noticed them stand their ground. They only had their rifles to hand, yet the Japanese infantry took their enemy on regardless.

"It's going in the opposite direction of us. That's what's important." Shinji said.

The man said nothing. His deathly silence was only punctuated by the occasional crump of detonation, of a tank or field gun's ammunition store igniting beneath the armoured foot of a titan.

Shinji tried not to think about it. Those fine men in their fine uniforms helplessly shooting as death casually strolled towards them was awful enough. A worse question remained, however.

If the finest army in the world can't stop it…His stomach twisted into knots. What can? Will we just have to deal with this thing roaming up and down the country forever?

He adjusted the straps on his bag and turned away from this scene reminiscent of a Kaiju film. There were injured people littered around him. The duty he'd learned in that Refugee Camp long ago compelled him to help.

In this mess, they were all Japanese.

Roughly a hundred people were strewn out across the tracks and hills. Some clustered together whilst others scattered. By now, more than a few dozen had likely taken one look at the terrible beast and pelted off in the opposite direction. Whether or not they were wise, Shinji didn't know.

You flee, you put more distance between yourself and that thing; you stay, it's easier to be found and helped. Besides, whatever it is, that Kaiju just isn't interested in us.

"Food, drink and bandages for young and old first!" The paramedic's voice drew Shinji's attention. He stood not twenty paces away on a small box. At his side, sergeant Kaza kept a hawkish vigilance. In this ocean of chaos, these two were islands of a stern order.

"Keep people together. That way our boys will find us more easily." Kaza barked.

Although still terrified of the brown shirted policeman, Shinji altered his course and walked over to them. "Excuse me."

Kaza cautiously scowled, but the paramedic smiled faintly. "Hello again, young man. What can I do for you?"

Shinji shifted sheepishly for a moment. He'd their undivided attention but quailed beneath the coals of the Kenpei.

I could have done a runner…would he have noticed in all this?

"I-I was wondering if you needed any help." Shinji forced out.

The older man scratched the back of his neck. "Can you clean wounds?"

"And dress them." Shinji nodded.

"Dress them? Where did you learn that?" He blinked in surprise, shocked the mere child in front of him knew anything at all about first aid.

Shinji's expression darkened.

"I'd rather not…" He stopped himself, knowing that wouldn't do. A reason was needed, or else he'd be dismissed. "…the war taught us all a thing or two."

Weary, understanding sadness filled the paramedic's eyes; this was an abject truth for the Japanese in a post Eruption age.

"Indeed, it did." He sighed. "The stewardesses is still bleeding from that gash in her forehead. Clean it as best you can, there's bandages next to her. Some brave fool went and looted the first aid on the train."

"She's over with the other wounded that way." Kaze nodded in their direction. "Don't go too far. You're still under arrest."

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir." Shinji offered a bow, appreciating the sympathetic look given by the paramedic, then hastily made his way over to the cluster of people indicated.

Like the dead, the injured came in all shapes and sizes. Some were children whose shattered bones poked out of their arms. More worryingly, elderly casualties sat dazed with huge black bruises on their wrinkled skin.

"I'm fine, for heaven's sake. Go see to the little ones." Growled one of the older looking men. He bled profusely from the back of his head.

Little ones can take knocks you can't. Shinji couldn't help but smile in admiration. Just don't want to be a burden, do you?

At the edge of the batch was the stewardess. Blood trickled from a great gash in her forehead. She pressed a towel against it, but the white cloth still grew redder. Shinji's heart panged at the pitiable scene.

Shame most of your chocolate bars probably got crushed. Would have been a nice snack for the children, all things considered.

Alas, though they were stretched out, the intensity of children's bawling never seemed to fade.

Others moved among the injured, some uniformed as train staff, others in plain clothes. Like him, they'd come to do their bit. The stewardess bled, but her condition clearly wasn't serious, hence why she and others had been left for now whilst those in need were attended to. By her legs, a box of bandages lay as promised.

Shinji knelt down at her side. "Hello again."

She tenderly turned her head, her gaze a little glazed over. "Ah. Hello." Her tone was faint.

Slight concussion, no surprise. Withdrawing the water bottle from his bag, Shinji took out a small wad of bandages but paused before he wet them.

"How long have you been applying pressure?" He eyed the towel, reckoning it needed to be on for a little longer.

"I…" The stewardess frowned. "I don't know."

"We'll make it ten minutes more, just to be sure. I'll keep count." Shinji forced a comforting smile, like the ones the nurses and the doctor would give to their patients in the camp so long ago. In all his years, observation had been the teenager's greatest teacher.

He took out his MP3 and switched it on, except it wasn't for music. Like almost all portable electronics it told the time.

Ten minutes starting now. Shinji slid it into his pocket, and helped the stewardess keep the pressure on her cut. When that was done, he'd check the wound, likely see the bleeding had stemmed, then give it the best clean he could.

"What's your name?" She looked him in the eye, gratefully yet dazed.

"Shinji Ikari." He said, checking the time again. "Yours?"

"Akane Nakamura. Where are you from, Ikari-san?"

"Kure. Or at least, I've lived most of my life there, Nakamura-san."

"Really?" Akane chuckled. "Same for me, although I'm born and bred."

"Huh, small world." Shinji checked the time again. Not much longer…

"Which block?"

"Hmm?" He looked up from his MP3.

"Which block?" She asked again.

"Downtown." Shinji's smile curled upwards a little more. "Gaiku-30."

"You're from Gaiku-30?" Akane was flabbergasted. "A nice young man like you?"

Shinji laughed. "Why do you think I keep my door locked at night?"

She laughed too.

Rundown anyway, Gaiku-30 was a block of ill repute in Kure. Although safer than the ghettos of yesteryear, one night Shinji had heard the Kenpeitai smash down the door of whoever was on the floor above him. Gaiku-30 was the sort of place.

Still haven't got a clue what that was all about.

"What about you?" He slowly took hold of the towel and began to pull it away. The ten minutes where up, now he had to see what was underneath.

"City centre, Gaiku-9." She answered.

"Oh, that's upmarket."

"Not as much as you'd think. Just a three-bedroom house, for me, my husband and the kids."

Three bedrooms? Sounds like a palace.

Though it was nasty sight, the river of crimson had dwindled into droplets. The cut stretched from eyebrow to hairline and would doubtless take a long time to fade. However, this was among the most harmless of bleeding injuries as it wasn't anywhere near a major artery or vein.

Akane Nakamura had little to fear. She'd see her family again.

Shinji unscrewed the bottle cap and poured water on the bandages. Properly soaked, he gently stroked his makeshift wet cloth over Akane's wound. It had to be tender, or else he'd reopen it. The wound needed some cleaning though, at least before the better equipped first aiders could finish their rounds and do the job properly.

"You're good at this." Akane murmured, sounding less befuddled by the minute.

"I'm alright." Shinji vaguely acknowledged, focused on getting a bit of dirt out of the cut.

"I have teenage boys, I know your age group isn't interested in First Aid until they do their national service. How'd you learn?"

Shinji pressed his lips together. He'd explained to the other man because he had to, not like here. There were memories he treasured from the war, but they always intertwined with horror he prayed to keep buried. Phantom hot pain flared in his right leg.

She must have seen that look in his eye and knew it for what it was. Akane paled. "…you could only have been about five for that."

Wound cleaned to a bare minimum, Shinji sighed. "Six."

He waited for more questions, only to receive none. Akane wouldn't pry.

"Sorry." He shook his head. "I don't talk about it often."

"No, no, it really is no trouble. We all saw things we won't forget." Akane gently traced her fingertips across her wound and winced at how large it was. "I pray at our local shrine every day to not see anything of the like again. Do you give offerings?"

"No." Given all that had happened in his short life, if there were a God of some variety it could only be malicious and underserving of homage as far as Shinji was concerned.

He offered what little water he had left. As Akane sipped it, careful to conserve, Shinji felt someone tap his shoulder. He almost jumped in surprise to see a blue uniformed soldier in standard pattern armour standing there. The man looked to be in his thirties, despite his gaunt face. He had brown eyes and hair. His roughed-up uniform told Shinji this was no infantryman; red trousers along with khaki piping gave him away as armour.

A Tanker? His vehicle must have been destroyed somewhere around here. The thought of what it must have been like, to face that creature in the confines of any tank, chilled his blood. Lucky fucking escape. I wonder what you were you in. Type-90? Type-12?

"Afternoon, shitboots." His tone, words and cocky grin took Shinji off guard. "Listen, the fat bastard and Kenpei cunt over there told me to take over from you, so here I am."

Shinji's eyes widened, his mind stuck between abhorrence for this man's manners and the suddenness of him. The trooper stood straight, but he failed to hide his clenched teeth. There was a dark patch in his left leg that he took care not to lean on.

"Are you deaf?" The tanker snapped. "Piss off, civi. You aren't needed anymore."

Phantom response stuck in his throat, Shinji packed his things back into his bag, gave a polite farewell to a worried looking Akane and walked off.

"Alright, horsey. Let's look at the damage…" Shinji vaguely heard the soldier, a slight scowl crossing his face.

Isn't he Japanese? Where's his manners?

There was a loud crack and a yelp of pain. Looking over his shoulder, Shinji saw another man in the same uniform. Though long faded, his face had clearly been badly burned. Short black hair with grey flecks crowned his scalp. His eyes were grey.

"Corporal. Manners." The older soldier struck his subordinate again, less hard this time.

"Yes, sergeant." The corporal grumbled.

Satisfied, the sergeant's gaze to fall on Shinji. He stared for a moment and frowned. Uncomfortable Shinji began to turn away, when a military bark beckoned him.

"You! Come here!"

Though like a thunderclap, Shinji knew it wasn't malicious. Being around soldiers taught you the different varieties of loud voices they could put on.

Doing as he was told, as manner and martial law compelled, he walked up to the soldier. "Can I help you, sir?"

The older soldier looked him over again. "Is your name Shinji Ikari?"

Shinji almost flinched. There was nothing pleasant about someone else knowing your name when you didn't know theirs.

"Y-yes, I am." He nodded.

"Right." The sergeant nodded. "There's a woman looking for you, over that way." He pointed.

Following his gesture, a thought struck Shinji. "Is she from Nerv? Black hair, brown eyes-"

"Large chest, dresses like a slut-" The corporal muttered until his superior batted him around the head again.

"Yes. That's the one." The sergeant confirmed.

The teenager couldn't believe it. It seemed Nerv had sent her after all.

"Thank you…uh-" Shinji scratched the back of his head.

"Sergeant Kiyoshi Yukimura, 3rd Armoured, at your service. The crude creature behind me is corporal Eiji Fukui, my driver, and over there is my gunner, lance corporal Seiichi Oshiro." Kiyoshi pointed at a black-haired man clearly in his twenties tenderly helping one of the younger wounded.

"I'm honoured." Shinji gave a quick bow. "Thank you, Yukimura-san."

"No problem, lad." The sergeant offered a smile. "You're in good hands by the way. Katsuragi-san found us on the road and brought us all the way here. Strange woman, but rather nice."

Shinji gave one last glance at Akane, and saw corporal Fukui expertly applying bandages to her wound. She was in good hands.

He took a few steps, then paused.

which way was he pointing again…

"Do you need directions?" Kiyoshi said gently, having walked up to his side.

Shinji cringed in embarrassment but nodded. "Thanks."

Kiyoshi lead him through the throngs that respectfully parted for the hardened soldier. Shinji meanwhile found a much needed spring in his step.

Train gets derailed, state of emergency is declared, Godzilla's armoured brother just tore the military to pieces, yet we still meet, Misato Katsuragi. Funny old world we live in.

As he walked, Shinji's cerulean orbs scanned the crowds ahead. He pictured that beautiful woman on the photo and tried to spot her.

"There she is." Kiyoshi pointed.

Misato stood out like a sore thumb, turning many a head. She wore a skin-tight black dress that reached from throat to thigh, all else bare save for a pair of combat boots. Oddly, however, a silver crucifix hung from her neck.

A crucifix? I thought Christianity was all but extinct throughout most of the Empire, let alone the Home Islands. I know it's not uncommon in Australia, but she doesn't look Australian!

In hand was a photo, which she squinted at whilst she scratched her head. Shinji had a feeling he knew who that picture was of, and she'd spot him soon enough.

"I'll let you take it from here." Kiyoshi clasped him on the back before returning to his men. "Take care of yourself."

Shinji gave a nod, then walked over to her as she looked around the crowd again, nose wrinkled, until her brown gaze fell on him. She squinted, checked the photo again, then let out an audible "ah."

"Shinji-kun, I presume?" She said, tone sweet and cheerful.

Shinji almost stepped back in surprise. "Kun" was a term of endearment and one not used for him in a decade, let alone with his first name. He composed himself.

"That's me. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Katsuragi-san." Shinji bowed.

Misato waved her hand dismissively yet playfully with a chuckle. "No need for that, we're all friends here. Now, are you hurt?"

"Just bruises." He decided it best to omit the corpse that shielded him from the worst of it.

"Thank goodness for small miracles, eh? Sorry I was a bit late. Traffic was terrible." She grinned.

Whatever response Shinji had got lodged in his throat. This veritable goddess that seemed as if she'd descended from the heavens, took everything in her cheerful stride, despite standing scantily clad in the middle of a warzone.

"No apologies needed. My train got delayed, anyway." Both quietly laughed at that.

"Spoken like a true commuter. Don't you have a suitcase?" Misato tilted her head quizzically, looking over his rucksack.

"Huh?" Shinji blinked.

"Suitcase? You came to stay for a few days, right?"

"Oh, well, yes, but it's who knows where on the train…"

"Hold on, I'll find it." She abruptly and briskly began walking over to the carriage. Shinji's eyes widened.

"What, no! It's not safe-"

"Pfft, what's life without a little risk? What carriage were you on?"

"Where are you going!?" A loud bark he knew all too well caused Shinji to wince. He didn't have to turn around to see the Kenpei march over to them, already predicting the iron about to clamp on.

Sergeant Kaza's nails sank into Shinji's shoulder and whirled him about. The Kenpei looked angry as ever, but more annoyed than murderous.

"I told you, stay put. You are under arrest." Kaza tightened his grip to emphasise his point.

"On what charges?" Misato's cheerful tone suddenly became stern.

"This isn't your business…miss…" The Kenpei raised an eyebrow at her.

"This is Misato Katsuragi. She was sent to pick me up." Shinji filled him in.

"What, are you running off to the red-light district?" Kaza snorted.

"What. Charges." Misato reiterated.

The Kenpei sighed and shoved Shinji aside before approaching her.

"Look, you've got a nice mouth on you, but you really ought to stop running it-" His words were all but smashed back into his mouth by Misato's fist. The suddenness of the blow knocked him to his knees as he snarled, scrabbling for his pistol.

A click, and a cold metal barrel pressing against his forehead stopped that.

Shinji's heart had leapt into his mouth.

What are you doing!? He's a Kenpei, you can't do that…can you?

"You'll die for that, bitch." Kaza spat through bloodied teeth, as the throngs around watched in shock and awe.

"There's a problem with that." Misato flipped out a Nerv ID card. "This is an 'I can do whatever the fuck I want and get away with it' badge."

"The Marshal will hear about this-"

"So will my boss, and I doubt he'll be happy at all."

"You think Gendo Ikari really cares that much about you?" Kaza sneered.

"Probably not. But given how scared of you he looks-" She nodded at Shinji. "-I'm guessing this isn't first time you've physically assaulted young Shinji Ikari here, is it?"

"I-Ikari.." Kaza looked back and forth between Shinji and Misato, blood draining from his face. "A relative?"

"Son."

The Kenpei licked his lips. "M-my mistake."

"There's a good dog." Misato patted him on the head. "We'll pretend this didn't happen. Off you go now." She gave him a gentle prod with her foot as he crawled away. Shinji gawped as she pocketed her gun then smiled at him.

"So, suitcase?"


Author's note

Sorry this took a while. Initially I had another chapter planned but realised it didn't quite fit with narrative flow, so it had to be axed. Also, upon further thought, I made a few changes in the previous chapters, like cutting out pointless Japanese swear words, foreshadowing the Kenpeitai on the train, showing the power of the Angel/Seraph a bit more, etcetera.