Ritsuko

Had the Slayers ruined everything or just hastened things? Perhaps there was some third option. No, sadly. Either Nerv would succeed in its goal, or they'd all die. Ritsuko had played her part. She knew better than most that they'd surpassed the option to turn back. As soon as Shinji first stepped into the Evangelion, they'd begun moving downhill. The Angels would annihilate them, or they'd achieve Instrumentality.

The Slayers, then, were a variable. The Angels reacted to their presence in unforeseen ways. The patterns could no longer be predicted.

Ritsuko typed madly at the keys, trying to find an answer behind it all. A satisfying answer, if possible.

What did she know?

First, the beings known as Angels existed prior to humans. Genetic tests indicated that humans evolved from Adam, the original Angel. Second, Angels sought the destruction of humanity. Lilith unleashed the Second Impact, nearly annihilating all life on earth. Third: Nerv stood as the only organization capable of preventing extinction.

Beyond this point, things got messy.

Fourth, the so-called Slayers were human, despite showing inhuman abilities. Fifth, the Slayers have no genetic connection to Angels. With those two facts combined, a concerning truth presented itself: they would be immune to Instrumentality.

What would that entail? As all the people of the world united into a collective essence, would the Slayers be left to wander what remained of their world? Could they somehow influence or, worse yet, prevent Instrumentality?

Unlikely.

Dr. Akagi looked up to the green-haired hybrid. Nerv had now placed their bets on Nephilim, who contained Slayer blood. By her own logic, a part of them which could not achieve the state of Instrumentality. Were they trusting Nephilim blindly? Did they have a choice?

Ritsuko's fingers paused as she ran the calculations. Some part of her overworking mind worried about the other variables (if the Slayers' world were still connected to their own, what would happen to that connection during the process of Instrumentality?), but something clearer rang through her.

"Damn you, Ikari." The exhausted woman rested her head against the glass behind her. She turned to the side to see one of the Reis swimming passed her. They made eye contact. Ritsuko stared into the vacant husk of her greatest sin. The girl chuckled, the same as the others. As it floated away, it eventually began to look at Nephilim again, as they all did.

"What a mess."

She wanted to blame Gendo. The fool murdered Rei. Morals aside, it was an idiotic decision. The doll girl had become a young woman, in a way. Her father had gotten angry when she fell in with the wrong crowd. Instead of addressing the issue, he disowned her.

Now, Nephilim prevented them from activating another. This almost made Ritsuko happy. After the last few days, she'd seen Rei as an individual. A talented girl without a positive role model. It sounded familiar to her. It'd hurt to call someone else Rei.

Ritsuko shut her eyes. The endless, empty laughs surrounded her. After two days, they'd become nothing more than the buzzing of cicadas. It concerned her that she was not disturbed, but she did not worry. After everything she'd done, this was just another bit of proof of how far she'd fallen. No matter how much she wanted to blame Gendo, she'd committed an equal share of sins, and aided him in his.

She distrusted him, but she kept returning to his bed. She'd been his right hand, and continued to be so.

Nerv wouldn't exist without Dr. Ritsuko Akagi. Survival, Instrumentality, it would have been impossible without her.

Even now, while she waited on a kind of house arrest, she helped the cause. The official story was that she was under investigation for second degree murder and criminal negligence in the death of Ayanami Rei. She'd been told that she was meant to watch Nephilim to ensure they kept their promise. In truth, it was like being grounded.

"You ruined our daughter," Gendo may as well have said. "Fix it."

So, she stayed in the classified lower floors of Nerv, monitoring Nephilim and the state of the world. The strength of the Internet connection from this deep within Nerv surprised her. She'd finally had time to catch up on international news. As it turned out, footage of the Slayers had leaked to the general public. Anyone with a telecommunications signal of any kind had seen the video of Tanjiro singlehandedly directed a beam of energy.

"Warriors from another world!" one headline screamed.

Ritsuko had laughed when she saw it. Oh yeah, she'd wanted to say. Proof of an alternate reality ought to be surprising, shouldn't it? I forgot it, you see. I was distracted because I'm helping my mother's former lover convince traumatized children to battle monsters. I'll stop to consider it after the next synchronization test. It won't take long. Nobody will drown or have a mental breakdown this time, probably.

As she typed and thought, the echoing laughter filled her ears and her mind. A chorus of clones. She felt like the central figure in a Greek tragedy. A chorus, filled with her daughters, surrounded her with their song. Nephilim stood opposite her on the stage. Who was the protagonist? In the classical stories, Nephilim would defeat her. The personification of her unquenched, narcissistic ambition would dismantle her. Next, it'd bring down Gendo, the one who'd orchestrated the whole mess.

"What news is there?" Nephilim asked.

"Hmm?" she groggily asked. She'd fallen asleep at some point in her reverie. A quick look at her monitor showed that she'd been napping for nearly an hour.

Nephilim repeated the question. "What news is there?"

Ritsuko tapped a few keys. No new messages.

"Predictions are unchanged. The next Angel is expected to attack tomorrow. We don't know how many will attack at once. Major Katsuragi," Ritsuko could hardly believe she got that promotion after everything that'd happened, "We've just recruited the fourth Evangelion pilot."

Nephilim's composed expression dropped. He seemed to react in slow motion. They remained in a floating lotus position, like some teenaged Buddha, but their head floated back. The chorus of dead-eyed Reis laughed vacantly. Nephilim looked displeased, but remained silent.

Ritsuko sleepily looked at the strange figure. "Does the news surprise you?" Ritsuko asked. "It shouldn't. We haven't even prepared the Lance of Longinus. Nerv has to prepare for all possibilities. You say you can implement Instrumentality, but we still need to be ready to fight the Angels with our own weapons. Or do you plan to defeat all Angels yourself?"

Nephilim seemed hurt. A cruel spark of joy flitted alive within Ritsuko.

How she'd changed. The scientist who entered Nerv seemed distant. The desire to learn for the sake of learning, the continuous research for no other reason than enjoyment, had long ended. She continued her work because she'd been working toward it for so long. She had to work for it. Her goal mattered.

Whatever her sins, she would help defeat the Angels.

Asuka

"Okay, mind the elbows. Remember to breathe. Go." Zenitsu instructed.

Asuka followed, falling into the basic steps. They practiced in Nerv's gym. With all the worry and frustrations, it seemed right to try to do something physical. Asuka had never attempted becoming a swordswoman; it seemed fun. She imaged people's reactions when they found out she was an incredible swordswoman. Wow, you're a genius and an athlete. Incredible!

She'd mastered so many things, what was one more? This also made sure that thunderhead spent some time out of his head. When he was trying to teach her, he wasn't feeling sorry for himself. Even now, as he stood to the side, resting on his crutches, he was engaged in the moment. She imagined the form she needed, stepped, raised Zenitsu's blade, and dropped it with a dramatic, "Hai!"

The blond boy fumed. "Impractical. Your steps are too big and your motions are too slow. Why are you trying to be so flashy? Every time, you add noises and make the moves too big."

"Well, of course I add things like that!" She faced him, quickly abandoning her stance. "What's the point in doing it the same way as everyone else? I need to show early on who I am, or what's the point?"

"That's not how this works."

"I mean, why would anybody want to learn this if everyone learned the same way? Wouldn't everyone be just as good as everyone?"

Zenitsu groaned. "Do you want me to teach you or not?"

"Of course!" She fell into an utterly impractical position, with one palm outstretched while the other held the sword lengthwise above her body. "Okay, sensei! Teach me!"

"Hey…" Zenitsu seethed. "Did you ask me to help you just so you could make fun of me?"

"Of course not!" She abandoned the stance. "You're too easily offended. Now, come on. I only have a little time left before the next synchronization test."

"Shouldn't you be focusing on that, then? You've got school, too. Why not study if you're so desperate for something to do?"

"I'm already a Pilot and a genius. But I'm not a great swordswoman. Help me figure this out so I can master it."

Zenitsu gaped at her. It looked like he was broken. He didn't even blink. After a few seconds, as if he'd only been delayed, he spat out the word, "What?"

"Do I need to explain everything to you?" Why didn't he get it? This guy could turn into lightning! Shouldn't it be obvious that she wanted to do that, too? "I want to fight like you can fight. Let's go?"

"Give me back my sword." He began hobbling toward her.

"Why are you getting so mad?"

He didn't get it. Nobody got it. She needed to be the best. If she didn't keep working, she'd slip. If you weren't number one, you were nothing. She needed to be the best at everything. The moment someone looked away from her, they forgot her. She needed to not only be the best, but the most beautiful, the most experienced, the loudest. Otherwise, was there a point? Who'd want to do anything if they didn't get noticed for it?

He stopped a few feet from her. "You never stop practicing. You don't become a genius and then just stay like that. You can keep learning. Same with me, I'll never be finished practicing. But, I'll give you a chance. I'll try to attack you with a crutch. Try to block me."

"Okay!" As soon as she said it, the end of a crutch thwacked the top of her head.

"Hey!" she reeled, holding the wound. Zenitsu remained still, his arm outstretched with the crutch frozen in the air.

"You're too slow."

"That's unfair. You can turn into lightning! How can I compete with that?"

"So, if I move slower, you think you can match me?"

She narrowed her eyes. The guy didn't seem to be bluffing. He'd been on a guilt trip for so long that this frustration made a nice change. Besides, she'd be able to show off like this. He doubted her. Now, she'd show him what she could do. She was a pilot, after all. Surely, she could showcase some talent.

"What's the challenge?" she asked.

"Try to block my attacks for ten seconds. I'll come at you with crutches. All you need to do is—"

"Hai!" the sword flew through the air. A crutch raised, tilted at a perfect angle, and brushed it away with an almost gentle motion.

"Timer starts now."

He attacked. She floundered. One crutch at her ankles, one for her shoulders. It was unfair! He was using two weapons when she had one. She hobbled back, about to complain, when she saw him bring one down to move his cast-laden foot forward.

The next attack came. She deflected it. It must've been hideous. She didn't parry. Her hands didn't control the blade. Her attacks were blind flails. The sword became an awkward weight. Soon, Zenitsu gave her a sharp knock on the calf.

Asuka almost fell.

How bad had that looked? The only consolation was that they were alone. How pathetic had she been?

"You've got room for improvement," Zenitsu lectured. "You kept trying to block with the base of the sword. When you get the feeling for how long it is, you'll be able to play more with it. Use the full length to your advantage."

She grimaced. The child genius allowed the anger to drive out her thoughts. She leaped forward, desperate to score one hit. A crutch rose. The blade snapped upward. Asuka lost her balance. A hand grabbed her wrist. She couldn't get out of it. His other arm stretched in front of her waist, keeping her from falling.

She couldn't move. Zenitsu didn't restrict her movements, but her mind became blank. Her body didn't respond.

The sword was still in her hand, but she'd never felt so powerless. Zenitsu casually held her arm captive. If not for him, she'd fall.

"What's wrong, Red?" his grip loosened. Asuka dropped the katana and stomped back. Zenitsu remained still. He was standing on one foot! The casted foot hovered a few inches above the ground. He'd dropped the crutches, stopped her attack, and kept her balance all in one motion. How?

He said, "You're hiding your feelings."

The muscles of her back became taut. She wanted to punch him. "Idiot!" She tried. Her fist struck his cheek. His head followed the motion, but his expression didn't change.

"You're a genius who can't read the questions on the tests. You're a great pilot who keeps getting low test scores. You've got incredible potential in two different fields. Why do you want to learn to use a sword?"

"Because!" she screamed the word as if it were the whole reason. In her mind, it was. The answer should be obvious. Asuka wanted it because Asuka wanted it. Pressing for some nonexistent answer beyond that was stupid. He was stupid!

The Thunder Warrior sighed. "I could help you with some stances to help with your emotional control. It might help you with your Eva scores."

"Shut up, idiot. What do you know about Evangelions? You couldn't understand."

Zenitsu rubbed his eyes, then looked to his sword and crutches on the ground. He hesitated as he looked at them. Awkwardly, he bet his knee and lowered to them. The process took forever. For the first time since they entered the gym, Asuka saw a cripple. Though recovery was familiar to him, moving with crutches was not. He hesitated and plodded as he considered how to bend down to pick up his weapon.

"I'll get it," she muttered. She grabbed the hilt and shoved it into his hand. "If you're not gonna help me, you can leave now."

"What was your plan when you attacked me with that blade? Did you want to hurt me?"

"That's—" her throat constricted. Had she just attacked a crippled ally with a sword? Why did she do that? The guy could've been hurt. She could've killed him. "Hey! Why didn't you say something? I could have hurt you! Do you have a death wish?

"I and I and I. You and you and you." Zenitsu said. "Never we. We're on a team, you know."

"Screw you, thunderhead. I don't need to spend time with someone who thinks I'm a vapid bitch."

Instantly, the calmness vanished. His eyes and mouth stretched open wider than seemed possible. His calm voice became a childish shriek. "Are you even capable of sounding human, you cold-hearted monster woman?"

The out-of-date-ness of the insult took Asuka aback. She had no retaliation as Zenitsu angrily hobbled to her and prodded her with a crutch. "Let me try to look cool for once in my life! You made it into the Eva because you're a brave warrior with skills that everybody recognizes. You know how I became a swordsman? How I entered the Corps? My mentor didn't give up on me! I only have skills because other people told me I could do it. Every person in the Corps has dedicated their entire lives to becoming Slayers! Don't insult me by saying you think it'd be a cool hobby! Everyone here thinks it's just something I can naturally do, to turn into lightning? Idiots! I trained years and years and years to get one move right! You can't just do this stuff as a hobby. Stop looking at us and thinking, 'yeah, it'd be cool if I could do that'. We almost died from training! Acknowledge our work!

"Aside from all that! Asuka, you're a genius, right? But you can't read the questions on the test. Study Japanese. Or get better at piloting. Stop trying to be the best at everything. Just get better at what you want to do. You can't be the best unless you're always training."

Zenitsu huffed, seemingly exhausted from his tirade. Asuka stared at him. What he said made sense, and she hated him for it. They disagreed on something fundamental. He saw constant improvement as the goal. Asuka couldn't afford to improve. She needed to be the best, bar none. If people saw her working toward improvement, they'd see weakness.

Her fists stayed clenched. "I should've asked pig-head to train me."

A weird mix of a snarl, a curse, and a groan croaked out of Zenitsu. "Ah!" he yelled and stormed off. The whir of the automatic doors provided the only sound as he left. The harsh clank of their shutting ended the conversation.

Or, it should have. Immediately, the door opened again. Zenitsu stalked back in. "We can't afford to argue like this! There's supposed to be another Angel attack tomorrow. You need to get to your test. We'll end this argument on the way there."

She stared at him, confused. "What do you mean, we'll end this argument? How can you say that so casually?"

"Did you forget about the Angel? That stuff is way more important than us arguing. We're allies, whether we like it or not. I don't want either of us hesitating on the battlefield because of some stupid argument."

Asuka rolled her eyes, then stepped forward. "You're just some loud brat."

"Like you can talk!"

Inosuke

"What is this thing?" Inosuke poked at the strange instrument.

"It's a cello," Shinji said as he worked on tuning it.

"Why do you have a zello?"

"Cello. Because I can play it."

"Oh?" Inosuke lifted his mask to take a draught of tea. It burned a bit, but he didn't enjoy waiting for it to cool.

Shinji finished tuning. "You sure you're not bored?"

"You kidding? I'm glad to be out of that stupid hospital. It didn't smell natural. Didn't feel natural. I'm happy to have a break from all that. It's weird, but I feel safest here."

Shinji chuckled. "I'll tell Misato you said that. I'm sure she'll be happy to hear it."

"Where is she, anyway?"

"Still at Nerv. She's in charge of dealing with complaints from outside, apparently. I heard that the video of you three beating that floating Angel got out. Now, there are a bunch more complaints. Misato's trying to deal with all that."

"Hmm," Inosuke nodded.

Shinji didn't lie, but it didn't feel right to say it happened like that. Tanjiro dealt the killing blow to that one. If Tanjiro hadn't shown up when he did, most of the city would've gotten wrecked. How long did he and Zenitsu spend scrambling around the debris, anyway? Too long. Inosuke made a mental note to see Tanjiro when Shinji left. He didn't want to go to the hospital, but that's where Tanjiro lay.

Inosuke hadn't understood any of the doctors' explanations except one part: rust in the brain. Plenty of swordsmen had gotten infected wounds. It seemed wrong that Tanjiro would fall to that, but it proved something Inosuke simultaneously did and didn't believe: Tanjiro Kamado was only human.

As Inosuke thought, Shinji began to play. The boar's eyes snapped to the sound. The world fell back a little. The pilot of Unit-01 became lost in a different art. The boy looked like a teenage boy, for once. He smiled, gently following the music. Inosuke looked to the fingers. Quick, careful, fluid movements. The act required skill, but the fingers moved with ease.

Oh, Inosuke thought, this is what the kid looks like when he's happy. He shouldn't be a pilot, he should be a musician, or involved in music in some way. Maybe he'll be able to play music when the Angel battles are finished. Look at how well he plays. This must be something he loves.

Inosuke hadn't listened to much music in his life. Between the training halls and the mountains, music was just something used to keep on beat. It helped some people memorize the rhythm of movements, but it had always distracted Inosuke. Even Tanjiro had tried to convince him about the importance of music. After all, he'd defeated Muzan because of a dance.

Inosuke never got it.

In this moment, in front of Shinji, letting his tea cool without realizing it, Inosuke thought he might be able to understand. Maybe some people approached music the same way he approached fighting. The swaying with the rhythm was like the rhythm of combat. It required precision and fluidity. The act of making music became interesting. Maybe that's why some people like it, because they appreciated the work that went into it.

Inosuke didn't get much out of the sound, but he appreciated the performance nonetheless.

When Shinji ended, finally opening his eyes, Inosuke clapped. "You got talent! Do you want to be a musician?"

"What? No, I just practice. I don't have talent."

"No talent? You're practicing, aren't you? That's how you get skill. How long have you been practicing?"

Shinji didn't look at him. His expression didn't seem like humiliation. There was some enjoyment. A light, barely suppressed smile played at his lips. "Oh, a few years. My mom enrolled me in lessons. I kept studying."

"That's awesome! With the Evas and school and everything, you're still playing."

"It's not like that, really. I just keep playing because nobody told me to stop."

Inosuke shook his head. "Even if that's true, you got skills now. If you keep working at it, you'll just get better. When I see you from now on, I see a musician."

"Heh," Shinji hunched his shoulders, just enough to be noticeable. "That sounds like a lot of pressure."

Inosuke said nothing for a moment. The pig mask hid his confusion. Another storm began to brew in the pilot. Had Inosuke said something? What were these storms? He wanted to understand what was up with Shinji, with everyone in this world. It seemed like their brains didn't act right. Part of him wanted to say they had wounded brains. No shame in it. When people get certain sicknesses or injuries, the muscles wouldn't work right afterward. The brain's a part of the body, just as much as the muscles. It seemed to him that most of the people in this Japan had some brain troubles that weren't getting the treatment or care they needed. Wounds only get worse without treatment, after all.

But he wasn't a doctor. Also, Inosuke knew that he was the last person who ought to talk about the way people think. He tried to avoid thinking whenever possible. This Japan made it difficult.

"Well," Inosuke said, "thank you for the concert. I'm impressed. It looked like you enjoyed playing, too."

After a delay, Shinji nodded. "Yeah, it's fun." He checked the clock. "I should get going soon."

Shinji

Inosuke was wrong.

Shinji lacked ability. He lacked talent. People either had talent or they didn't. Shinji existed without either. All he could do was try. He didn't play the cello because he wanted to, or even because he liked it. He'd been asked to start, but he hadn't been asked to stop. Thus, he kept playing.

He played. He played. He played. Through the tests and Eva battles and worries. Through changing house and getting bullied. He'd brought the cello.

Yet, did he care? He'd run away many times. He'd missed practice sessions because he wasn't at home. Some days, he just lay in bed without so much as thinking about the instrument. One weekend, he'd lain in bed staring at the case. A lot of fantasies happened then, perhaps the most he'd ever daydreamed. Shinji had imagined what it'd be like to smash the cello. Swing it high over his head and smash it.

At the time, he'd gotten so frustrated that he ended up playing it. It relaxed him.

A paradox: he loved playing while he played, but he didn't care during any other time. Every moment he made music felt great. The world slipped away. He gave something. The sweet-sounding music floated out into the world.

Shinji never thought of it as him having ability. Somebody else had written the notes. Anybody could learn to play. How was it special?

"Shinji, let's go." His father stated bluntly.

The man didn't even stop to see if Shinji followed him. The boy hadn't even noticed the aircraft land. "Coming," he said, quickly unstrapping himself, grabbing the flowers from the seat beside, and stepping out. A massive graveyard lay before him. Hills and fields, barren since the Second Impact, were now covered in thin pillars of metal.

The grave markers were ceremonial, but Shinji appreciated the gesture. From the way his father moved, Shinji guessed that Gendo felt the same.

A random thought came to Shinji. "Do you think mom would praise me for piloting the Eva?"

Gendo halted. His joints seemed to lock for a moment. Then, he continued as if nothing had happened. "There's no point wondering. She's gone. We're just doing this because humans need symbols like this to help them accept harsh realities."

Shinji stepped up to his mother's headstone and laid down the flowers he'd brought. Another random question came to him. A malicious curiosity eked into his voice, "Do you miss her?"

Gendo seemed to be looking at the space beside the marker, rather than at it. "It's normal human behaviour to—"

"Do you miss her?"

"That has no bearing on—"

"You wanted to see her." Shinji sat down, hugged his knees, and stared at the last earthly representation of his mother.

"It's not like you to interrupt me, Shinji."

Shinji ignored his father. "You said it's normal human behaviour to miss someone, but you can't say you miss her. Are you even human?"

The graveyard became silent. It usually was. Shinji had read about this place before. This place barely even saw wind. It was barren, in every way. There weren't even corpses.

Finally, Gendo said, "I miss her."

Misato

Guilt. Confusion. Shame. Desperation. Fear. Loneliness.

Trauma.

Misato recognized all these things in herself. Who was Misato Katsuragi? Powerful, capable, intelligent. Broken. It wasn't enough to be Major Katsuragi. Misato also needed to display to the world that her disgusting workload didn't lighten her mood.

Shinji, blockhead he was, didn't recognize it. Asuka, immature as she was, didn't understand it. The overstressed woman worked toward her goal at the detriment of herself. She broke herself down with alcohol nearly every night. It helped her cope. Ritsuko used to worry about her drinking. Hell, Kaji had once worried about her drinking.

When her thoughts weren't clear, she didn't need to deal with them.

"Take care of yourself."

Those were the last words Kaji had said before she left his apartment.

Although she believed it was the wrong thing to do, she didn't regret it. If they really were about to die, Misato happily accepted one last lay.

Things looked bad. Even if the Angels were defeated, her boss and her best friend had committed crimes against humanity. If they got the justice they deserved, she'd get implicated, too. If they didn't, justice didn't exist. She'd fight to save the world, of course. Her woes and misgivings were hers alone. She'd never ask the rest of the world to deal with that. She'd contribute everything she had to fighting the Angels, regardless of the cost to her.

Misato existed as a broken woman. Perhaps, she hoped, if the Angels were defeated, she could spare some others from being broken.

So, marching resolutely away from what might have been one of her last requests, she entered Nerv HQ. What little cheer had existed in the place had slowly returned. People chatted. Some plans were made for the following weekends. People talked about grabbing a drink together after work.

Hopefully, Misato thought behind her smile.

The Major continued all the way to the elevator. She swiped her card. If not for her recent promotion, she wouldn't have been able to access those floors.

Her smile disappeared. The doors opened. Orange light flooded in. Misato stepped into the room to see Nephilim and Ritsuko, both startled at seeing company. "Updates?" she asked.

"We await the next Angel," Nephilim calmly stated.

Misato raised an eyebrow. "Are you gonna start this Instrumentality thing from inside your vat?"

Nephilim smirked. The cocky gesture comforted Misato. This clone was human after all. They said, "I'm here to prevent you from trying to turn one of my sisters into a copy of mother." He swept his arms out, indicating the clones, who turned to Misato in unison. "If I left, the hairy-chinned fool would try to take one of them."

Misato and Ritsuko shared a glance. Nephilim wasn't wrong, so there didn't seem to be much point arguing, even if their motives seemed impenetrable.

"How about you?" Without intention, Misato injected venom into the word 'you'.

Ritsuko stopped typing. The scientist glared at her friend. The anger highlighted the creases in her forehead, Misato thought. Understandable. With all the stress they'd been under, it was a miracle neither of them had heads full of grey.

"Nothing to report here. What's the status on the fourth pilot?"

"They'll be undergoing their first test in an Eva tomorrow morning. I heard he's spending tonight in the hospital with his little sister."

"Hmm," Ritsuko reacted with a nod. As expected, the emotional aspect of the news didn't get through to her. Why would it? It didn't affect her job. Misato worked hard to ensure she never let herself ignore those details, but Ritsuko always casually forgot them.

"One other thing." Ritsuko asked while looking at her monitor. "Is there a status report on the pressure changes behind the Eva test chamber?"

"Pressure changes?"

Inosuke

His sides ached, but Inosuke still ran. More of a jog, but still. He didn't like moving slowly. Besides, the sooner he got to the hospital, the sooner he'd be able to leave. No, that wasn't right either. He wouldn't rush his time with Tanjiro.

He had no idea what he'd do when he got there. He'd figure it out.

As he ran, the air changed. The world seemed to become smaller. The air denser. His skin turned to goosebumps. Sweat broke out. "No. No. It's too early."

He sprinted. Adrenaline quelled the pain. An Angel had appeared. Where? What form had it taken?

Inosuke tore his swords from their sheaths. Don't take Tanjiro! He wanted to scream it. Instead, he snarled like a wild animal, charging forward.

The hospital came into view. Next, he saw the orb. A black orb with white lines floated in the sky. He felt nothing from it. The energy came from the ground. A thin layer of shadow spread over the ground. As it spread, everything it touched sank into the blackness. Its centre lay a few metres from the hospital.

"No!" he charged forward. The building creaked. Before long, the hospital tilted and began to sink into the shadow.

"Stop it! Don't take him! He can't fight back, you bastard! Fight me! I'm right here!"

By the time he got to the shadow, it was too wide. He couldn't jump across it. By the time he would've run around, the hospital would be under. Now, only the roof poked above. Tanjiro lay helpless there. The Angel had swallowed him.

"Damn you!"

Inosuke slashed a blade onto the shadow. It stuck for a moment, as if hitting dirt. It began to sink. Inosuke pulled. The blade wouldn't move. "No. No."

The shadow pulsed further out. Inosuke jumped away, leaving the serrated katana to sink. The rim edged out. Inosuke ran away. He didn't notice the tears in his eyes, or the agony from his wounds. Soon, the shadow stopped. Somehow, he knew it would've grow any further.

Inosuke heaved as he stared at it. The closest buildings continued to sink. A chunk of the city had simply fallen into darkness.

How did this count as an Angel? This hunger. Unlike the others, this one emanated something dangerous. Inosuke wanted to vomit, being so close to it. He felt an intense desire for consumption. Not anger. Desperation. It needed to feed. This Angel could not be satisfied. It would consume all the world.

In all this, Inosuke didn't think of Nerv. This Angel was practically on top of the facility, but Inosuke didn't care. He stared at the space where his closest friend had lain. The boy who had saved and inspired him. His brother in arms had sunk into the shadow.

A snarl exploded into the night, every bit as monstrous and pained as the roar of the Evas: "Tanjiro!"