"Nakisawame is a heavily militarised city, and not simply because of the IJA's presence. Many of its smaller businesses are in fact run by ex-servicemen, who give special perks to fellow soldiers." Tour guide of Japan, written for Columbian holiday makers.
XXIV
Now he's being nice? I can't make any sense of the man. Shinji readjusted the strap of his bag as he walked.
The sun had long passed its zenith as he left Levav Base, bright yellow giving way to orange. As if it coloured their thoughts, the people of Nakisawame began to wind down. Many were making their way home as he did, although roughly the same number sat in the various sake dens and cafes for a quiet drink. Much like Kure, Nakisawame was a living organism with its own moods and swings.
Although as far as animals go, they couldn't be more different.
He admired the sleek and clean buildings of the capital, noting the absence of smashed windows and heavy Kenpeitai patrols. The brown shirts noisily marched around to remind people they were there, but they didn't have to do much at all.
It had been a blessing not to be woken up by a public disturbance. Impromptu visits from the Kenpeitai were unheard of here, even more so in the Nerv residential areas they avoided like the plague.
But the lack of brown shirts was more than made up for by rank upon rank of navy-blue tunics.
Eight katana shaped warships cut through the orange sky, their Manmitsu Reactors faintly humming even over the din of Japan's capital. The News channels and papers were explicit about mass deployment to the capital, shocked and stunned by the Seraph attack. Five full army divisions had been shunted here. Compared to the eight million strong population, sixty thousand extra men or so shouldn't have made much of a difference, but their presence was felt by all. More importantly, the reason they were there chilled all to the bone.
Japan had been stabbed in the heart whilst her armies stood helpless.
A people carrier trundled past him whilst he waited at a crossing, a bundle of belongings hurriedly strapped to its roof. Such a sight was common in Nakisawame these days.
What was it Katsuragi-san said? A few hundred thousand people have already fled?
The rest went on as if life were normal, although even he could feel the tension in the air. The stiffer, at times more jittery way people walked, was a dead giveaway. Still they carried on, partly as a coping mechanism to prevent complete panic, but also a sense of pride in his estimation. Japan was the immovable rock against which the sea crashed in vain. It had weathered worse and would weather this.
Shinji both admired and chastised their courage.
If I wasn't stuck here, I'd be long gone by now.
As he walked, the waft of teas and hot drinks from nearby cafes tickled his nose, and eventually Shinji gave in. Fifteen minutes wouldn't hurt.
The café he turned into, a quiet thing along a quiet road, was a modest affair. The man at the till, its owner, looked grizzled but hardly old. An a faded photo of him standing in the cockpit of an old F-16 hung proudly on the wall. Half a dozen rich wooden tables and no more took up the café's front, which was perfect in Shinji's estimation. He'd sampled the busier places in central Kure from time to time and, whilst higher class, were hellishly expensive and much too busy. Central Nakisawame was everything bad about that magnified tenfold.
I'm lucky I've only got to change buses there. He shuddered, thinking of the teeming masses that rolled like a wave through the concrete sea. For a moment, Shinji wondered if lost Tokyo and Kyoto had been any different, then dismissed it. Cities were the same across the world, from Winchester and Denver to Luoyang and Nakisawame itself.
Mind you. He smiled a little. Japanese cities are obviously the nicest. Everything runs on time…
Ordering a sencha tea and a slice of honey cake, Shinji sat down and watched the world go by. He sipped his tea and let its hot, grassy flavour warm his soul, then all but melted into his hard wooden seat. How long had it been since he'd last done this? After racking his brains, Shinji realised this was the first time he'd visited a café in this city.
Have I really been that busy?
He couldn't have been. There'd been time between his travels hither and thither. No, the more likely answer was his feeling totally out of place here. He knew Kure, its alleyways, its sprawling centre, how best to avoid Butai patrols. Nakisawame had been a place on a postcard for most of his life, so Shinji felt lost in its sea.
But today, perhaps exhaustion, perhaps growing familiarity, had permitted him to take some real leisure time. And also, more vitally, a bit of time to himself to think.
This has probably been one of the most eventful weeks of my life.
How much had changed since he'd opened that letter in Kure? Japan had been attacked, Kaiju were real, and he'd never spoken to this many people in a very long time. Strangely, stupidly in his eyes, it was that last one which really bothered him.
He'd been in school for a week and had not only marked himself out as a weird loner, he was also a bully and had made an enemy of the most formidable boy in his class. Shinji sighed sadly.
Only he could make such a mess.
Speaking of messes…
He sipped some more tea, trying to use its heat to melt any icy thoughts.
Father, where do things stand between us?
Sometimes he felt like the man didn't care at all. The day he'd been thrown at that Seraph gave credence to that. But the way he'd just been spoken to was food for thought. Gendo was a complicated man to say the least, but perhaps, buried deep down, there was still some familial affection.
Shinji stared into his cup as he thought. He had three weeks to see if he could unearth this elusive affection. It was worth a try.
In his pocket, his phone sat heavily as an unfamiliar weight. Thin and silver, the smartphone embarrassed the blocky things he'd known as a child. This one had been given to him as a "perk" of his job, although he had to stop himself shaking his head.
I should be careful. They've probably put a tracking device in it.
He flipped it out and held it for a moment. Briefly, Shinji considered calling his father, but then realised he didn't have the number and Gendo was probably still working.
The sound of the cafe door creaking open caught his attention. He slipped the phone back in his pocket for another time. Three men, all soldiers, walked in. The dark circles under their eyes and the heaviness of their movements told Shinji all he needed to know about the military's current condition.
After exchanging a respectful nod with the man at the bar, the troopers asked for coffee and took a table close to his own. Although the blue tunic was worn by basically every soldier in the Imperial Japanese Army, their khaki trousers and facings gave them away as tankers.
Two branches of armour. Cavalry have red trousers whilst tankers have brown. Not to mention cavalry tunics are way gaudier than the simple stuff tankers get, even before you get to Guard formations. Shinji thought long and hard to make sure he wasn't confusing them with HMAC pilots. Simply put, HMAC devicers had far more expensive training, so came from a higher rung of society than he. Many magazines and talk shows hypothesized that they were a proto aristocracy in the Samurai vein. Because of that, Shinji knew to hold his tongue more so than usual around them.
But the three men clearly weren't aristocrats.
"Tastes like piss." One of them muttered, then gratefully gulped down his coffee.
"Higher quality piss, mind you." Another, his voice younger, added.
"And cheaper. So don't complain, corporal." The third individual growled, superior in age and rank to the other two, but clearly not a commissioned officer.
A sergeant maybe?
Shinji fought down a sigh at being stuck next to talkative soldiers, men who flattened peace and quiet. But then he frowned.
I know those voices…
He snatched a glance at the oldest one, seeing his greying black hair, grey eyes and long scarred face.
By chance, Staff Sergeant Kiyoshi Yukimura looked back, blinked, then gave a weak smile. "Oh. Hello again."
The other two turned to look at Shinji, vague recognition dawning on them.
"Isn't that the civvy from the train?" Corporal Fukui said.
"So it would seem. Ikari-san, isn't it?"
"Yes…Yukimura-san." After racking his brains for the name, Shinji gave a little bow of his head which the three men returned.
"Small fucking world, eh?" Fukui took another gulp of his coffee.
Shinji didn't comment, until his heart all but leapt into his mouth.
I've…I've never asked what happened to the crash survivors!
All this last week he'd been so wrapped up in his own problems, he hadn't bothered to think about those mangled hundreds on that fateful train to Nakisawame. For the second time that day, shame coursed through him.
"Th-The crash…" He tried to form the right words. "What happened after we left?"
"Not much, thankfully." Yukimura murmured. "A few hundred bodies to line up for collection. No one else died after you left, and that Seraph's interest was elsewhere."
"Yeah. Butchering what was left of our poor fucking army." Fukui growled. "Fat load of good Nerv were. They had that Eva in reserve the whole time and just watched us die."
Shinji's heart panged in guilt.
They didn't use it because they didn't have a pilot…because I didn't get there in time.
"There was a woman I was taking care of." A memory sprang to mind of a kind stewardess. "Is she…"
"You'd already done most of the work, Ikari-san." The younger soldier, Lance Corporal Oshiro, smiled. "Akane-san couldn't speak more highly of you."
"That's good…" Shinji nodded. "That's good."
Akane had got to see her family again after all.
"If you were wondering about that Kenpei…" Fukui chuckled. "We didn't hear a peep out of that cunt. He just waddled around looking pissed with a big bruise on his face."
The other two soldiers laughed. Another image flashed before Shinji's eyes, of a brown uniformed young man pummelling him for a slight infraction. To his shame once again, Shinji didn't feel too bad for him.
"Speaking of bruises, what the fuck happened to your face?" Fukui frowned and pointed.
Shinji sighed. "Disciplinary infraction in Gimu. I spoke without permission."
And hit a girl.
The tank crew winced.
"Classic mistake, that one." Yukimura said. "Don't do it again. Gimu's hard enough as it is."
"You've done it?" Shinji felt stupidity cascade through him as soon as the words left his mouth. All three men laughed at that.
"I'd fucking hope so!" Fukui said. "Wouldn't be much of a soldier if I couldn't get through basic training."
After the genuine but strange laughter, it really came home to Shinji just how drained of energy the tank crew was. Even in the midst of utter defeat at the train they'd seemed livelier.
"You look exhausted." Shinji said.
"Hm." Yukimura limply nodded. "Constant patrol, constant drills. We need to be ready at a moment's notice in case another one of those things show up."
"Gods forbid." Oshiro shook his head, his young blue eyes looking much too tired. "We lost too many last time."
"Eh." Fukui waved his hand. "Nerv will actually do their jobs this time. Given the amount we're paying the bastards, they'd better. Good to know my taxes go on giant robots."
Giant robots? If only that were true, Fukui-san.
"I heard the Navy got roughed up pretty badly." Shinji said, eager to blot Evangelium Unit 01 out of his mind for a little while longer. Even grim news seemed better than that.
"Yeah." Fukui laughed humourlessly. "Second Fleet got ravaged. We're lucky we didn't lose any battleships…"
"The Air Corps got a pummelling too." Oshiro added. "They're still repairing that FCV."
For a moment Shinji cast his mind to the news reports and the scenes of utter destruction. Tens of thousands were dead at least, and that was the most he wanted to know. Getting an exact number, making an effort to look into the sheer volume of corpses, would be too much for him.
Shinji made a show of stretching and checked the clock on the wall. His fifteen minutes were up.
"I'd better go." Shinji downed the last of his tea. "It's getting late."
"Best be on your way then." Yukimura nodded, blowing over his own piping hot coffee.
Shinji drew out his chair and stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulders. Just as he turned to leave, Fukui spoke up.
"Hold on." The crass soldier frowned. "Er, that gorgeous Nerv woman who picked you up. Does she live around here?"
"Katsuragi-san is my guardian. I live with her."
Fukui and Oshiro whistled at that, the former saying. "Could certainly do worse you lucky little shit."
Not wrong.
Misato was very easy on the eyes, but she'd been kind to him. He didn't know of many people who would willingly share their home with a stranger, much less try to make him feel welcome.
"I suppose." He smiled a little to himself. "Take care of yourselves."
"Wouldn't be in the army if that were a concern!" Yukimura laughed and his men followed, clanking their mugs together with a cry of "long live the emperor!"
The sergeant turned back to Shinji. "Until we bump into each other again, Ikari-san. Whenever that is."
Shinji found his smile getting a little wider. He walked out, hearing the doorbell ring behind him as it closed. Just before he took off, he looked over his shoulder to memorise the café's name.
Toyoshi café. Must be the owner's name. Well, it's on my way back to Katsuragi-san's apartment. I'll pop by here more often.
He adjusted the strap of his bag, then picked up the pace.
