First off, this was beta-read by Glory-To-Our-August-King- Infinite thanks and more to them for doing so.
I had hoped to not join literally everyone and everything else in being delayed, but what can you do?
In recompense, this chapter should prove more interesting than the last, and is longer to boot, so enjoy.
Misato opened her eyes, then immediately shut them as the sun did its best to burn them out.
At least I woke up before my alarm, she thought, yawning.
Her hand snaked forth to grab at the troublesome device-and found nothing, not even the carpet fibers. She tried again, reaching further, and her entire arm flopped over the edge of the mattress.
Mattress?
Misato made another attempt at opening her eyes, and found she was indeed sleeping on a mattress, not her futon, and just how this wasn't her futon, the room she was in definitely wasn't hers.
Also, unless she was horribly mistaken, the third arm draped across her chest definitely wasn't hers.
The extra arm in question pulled her closer into her other body, smothering her with warmth.
Other body?
She turned to find Kaji murmuring into the side of her neck, chin hairs prickling her skin.
"Shit."
The curse cut into the still air of the room like a gunshot and she scrambled upright before it could echo back to her. Unfortunately, the process proved difficult as she had to peel her naked body from her partner. Kaji tried to cling to her, but a quick shove saw an end to that.
"Is it breakfast already?" he grumbled, rubbing his eyes.
"No, idiot, it's not brea-Shinji!" her eyes darted to the door as she scrambled to cover herself. "Shit shitshit-"
"What?"
"We fell asleep! It's-!" she reached out to Kaji's desks and snatched up his phone. "-10:32!"
"Oh…That's not good."
"No shit, Kaji! What are-"
His hand clamped down on her mouth and she nearly bit it in protest.
"Stop yelling," he cupped his other hand to his ear and tilted his towards the door. "And listen…"
She did, straining to pick up the sounds of clanking pans, snapping fingers, and the humming of some upbeat pop song.
She heard none of those; the only things she could pick up on were the pounding of her heart and Kaji's breathing.
"Think he's still asleep?" Kaji whispered.
"Don't know, can't hear anything," she frowned. "But I guess we'll find out, one way or another. Now help me find my panties."
"You didn't wear any," he said.
Oh, right.
"Hold on, Shinji sent a text at…2 am," Kaji said, leaned his phone towards her. "'Won't be home 'til morning. Sorry! Brush your teeth and be good.' Kissy face."
"What?"
"'Won't be home-"
"Give me that," she snatched the phone back from him and stared at the screen. The message was word-for-word as her bedfellow had recited it, and yet something inside Misato rankled as she read it over.
The girl pursed her lips in concentration, but soon gave up as she felt Kaji staring at her.
Huffing, she tossed the phone to the bed and was the verge of getting out of bed if Kaji hadn't grabbed her by the arm.
"Hold on," he jerked his head towards the door. "He'll definitely know something is up if he catches you come out first."
"Right, good thinking."
Kaji slithered out of bed, stooping low as he gently opened the door and stuck his head out, looking left, then right. Ten pounding heartbeats later, he opened it wider and stepped through.
Twenty more heartbeats saw him return, giving a thumbs up.
Misato relaxed, finally allowing herself the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. Her freedom was tantalizingly close, yet Kaji lingered beside the doorway, blocking her path.
"What?" she asked.
The teen scratched the back of his neck and looked to the side, "How's your-er, I mean, are you…how are you feeling?"
"I'm…" Misato started, and found she couldn't meet his eyes either. Now that her mind wasn't engulfed in panic, she forced to reckon with the other sensations that were pressing on her mind-namely the ones informing her that between her cheeks lay an oily mess. The hole itself ached only a little-a far cry last time's throbbing cry-but what was even more concerning, and what stilled her tongue, was that she could feel it faintly pulsing in time with her heartbeat, as it were alive and calling out to be filled. It certainly didn't help that every movement of her hips made the entire area stick and slide in decidedly vulgar fashion.
In short, she felt gross, shameless, raunchy, and slutty-but most of all: used.
…And yet that didn't bother her. She had asked for this-even begged for more as a rhythm was established and Kaji's name degraded into a mindless chant-and he had indulged her, repeatedly. Every thrust of his hips and growl from his throat had driven her deeper into a cesspit of pleasure, and she had wallowed in it like a pig in mud.
But now she left knowing this obscene pleasure was easy to obtain, and that boy before her was the key to it all…the same boy who ran hot and cold on her at the drop of a hat.
How could she ever concede that much power over herself to someone so fickle?
"…fine. Good, actually," she said. "Y-you did good too. We should do-"
Something thunked somewhere beyond the walls of the room and cut off her sputtering. Both teens stared wide-eyed at each other, then Kaji all but her pushed into the hallway and retreated back into his room.
Misato shuffled her feet across the carpet, not daring enough to risk being betrayed by a mere footstep.
As she passed by her guardian's room, a low moan behind the door made her stop in her tracks. Curiosity and Concern welled up within at the miserable sound, but every other voice in her head clamored at them to shut up and urged her to keep moving.
However, those voices were quiet in comparison to the duo, who moved her hand into knocking on the door.
With the deed done and her fate all but sealed, Misato waited, standing her ground as she prepared for Shinji to reveal himself and see through her facade.
The door didn't open, but instead groaned at her pitifully.
"Major? Shinji?"
The follow-up response was an intelligible mutter and a faint sniffle.
Despite the protests building within her, she slid the door open by a hair, allowing a sliver of the hallway light to bisect the gloom within.
Like Kaji's room, the former storage closet was orderly, though it somehow felt even emptier despite being half the size. The space was mostly dominated by a wooden desk that sat in the far corner, its surface taken up by a monitor that sat between two bins stacked with folders.
In the other corner, the Major lay curled up on his bed, ostensibly dead to the world were it not for the slow rise and fall of his chest, and the spit bubble that fluttered at the edge of his lips.
Were she not afraid his eye would suddenly snap open and put an end to her foolishness, Misato might've found the scene cute.
He must've come home and collapsed, she reasoned as she noted he was still wearing the same clothes he had left with. But when exactly did he get back?
Misato moved forward, hoping a closer look would shed some light on the question, but halted as her foot nudged against something.
She looked down, and was confronted by of a group of strangers crowded before the hull of a ship. No, that wasn't quite right; she recognized some of the faces that peered back at her.
The first one to catch her attention was Asuka, who appeared to be standing on some platform out of frame, unless the woman had shrunk at least half a foot since the picture had been taken. That aside, her hair as red as ever and her trademark scowl in full effect as she glowered down at the people below her.
Directly under Asuka was Mana, of all people, her hair slightly longer but still short, her nose straight and smile ever exuberant. The brunette's arm was intertwined around that of a younger Shinji, who looked on with both eyes, his face sporting the same self-conscious smile he favored to this day.
Other people crowded around the three, and while Misato recognized what might have been Aida with glasses, her eyes were drawn to a pale arm wrapped around Shinji's other arm, severed clean at the shoulder.
A shiver ran up the girl's spine, nearly causing her to drop the picture-a second later her brain kicked in, chiding her.
It's not a ghost, dummy, the picture's just folded.
That it was, though that didn't explain why it was that way to begin with. Her eye lingered on the phantom limb and her brain continued churning.
It's probably Ayanami. Who else could be that pale?
It seemed the obvious answer, but that judgment felt wrong the moment it bubbledthe surface of her thoughts. There was a notable difference in height between the shoulders of her CO and this mystery person, so it couldn't be the quiet doctor, unless she too was also standing on something Misato couldn't see.
"Who are you?" she whispered to the picture.
"Mhhm?"
Misato jumped, dropping the frame to floor as her head snapped upward to take Shinji rubbing his eyes.
"Misato?" he yawned, winced, and then massaged his temples with a deepening grimace. "What are you doing up so late? Another bad dream?"
"N-no, it's, uh, it's 10:40…am," she managed to stutter out. "We, uh, I was worried. Didn't hear you come back last night."
He stared at her-his good eye offering a reflection of her yellow shirt, while the other retained its milky void.
"Wait…AM?"
Shinji dug his hands into his pants pocket and pulled out his phone, grunting as the screen blazed to life and illuminated his haggard face.
"Damn it," he hissed, dragging his hand across his face. "Has anyone called? I was supposed to be there at eight."
"Shinji, it's Saturday," she said, doing some quick mental math to reassure herself. "You usually don't work today, remember?"
He lifted his head further; face contorting as he doubtless did his own set of calculations.
"Oh…that's right," he put his phone down and massaged his temples. "Well that explains why I'm not looking at hundreds voice-mails."
He sat up with a groan, joints popping and creaking with every little movement.
"Is Kaji up?"
"Uh," her mind raced, but her tongue continued to hesitate. "H-How should I know, I mean I'm not his keeper or anything, but I'll check if you want."
"No, that can wait. Have you eaten yet?"
Misato shook her head, and slowly took a step backward.
"Alright, give me a few minutes and I'll get started on something. Sorry for…" he gestured at his wrinkled clothing with a grimace.
"That's alright," she replied, keeping her voice low-though with the extra effort, her voice still seemed too loud in the cramped space. "Although, it looks like you didn't follow my advice."
"What?" He frowned. "Oh, right. I, uh, actually managed to finish early and got dragged around town by the night shift. It was…nostalgic." A blush spread from his cheeks to his nose, and he scratched it as if to ward it away, "Sorry I wasn't able to reach guys."
"Anyway," he said, starting to stand. "If you don't mind waiting a bit for breakfast, I'm going to take a shower."
Misato made to move aside, but the motion caused the mess in her rear squish in a way that forced her to halt place.
"Actually, can I go first?" she pleaded.
"Sure, go for it," he nodded at her, but then cocked his head to the side. "Actually, Misato?"
"Yeah?"
Her guardian surveyed her with a narrowed eye, the rest of his body tensing as it shifted into what Kaji had nicknamed "mother hen mode". Normally Misato would've only struggled with the slight urge to squirm under the intensity, but now the pressure was unbearable; if he moved any closer then she was sure he'd be able to smell the reek of sweat and oil.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"W-why?" she stuttered out.
"Well you're standing kind of oddly."
Well Captain, that's cause I'm pretty sure that if I make a wrong move I'll end up staining the floor with the leftover lube and jizz that's keeping my ass crusted together. Wouldn't that be something?
Misato chose not to voice that thought, and went with the next thing that came to mind.
"I… uh think I started my period."
To his credit, her guardian didn't cringe back as she had expected; his face softened, and he accepted the lie with a nod.
"Ah, well let me know if you need anything. Sanitary stuff, heating pad, oh, there should still be some ice cream in the fridge."
Misato couldn't help but smile at his naked concern.
"Thank you, but I think I can manage for now."
"Are you sure? I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to take a rain check today."
Misato cocked her head to the side, "For what?"
"The lunch today," he reached for his phone and grunted again as it once again blinded him. "We've still got time to kill before I drop you off. I can just tell the Commander you caught a cold or something."
That's right; I'm supposed to "touch base" with him.
"Right, right," she recovered her composure with a shake of her head. "I mean, no, there's no point to dodging him. I know he'll just try and set up another meeting, and be late to that one too."
Shinji nodded, "I understand."
She retreated with another bow, and quickly shuffled her way to the bathroom.
Once on the toilet, Misato was thankful to discover her ass wasn't as much of a mess as she had imagined, although being certain meant agitating the area further. Although she was now clean, her body tingled with obscene energy.
I wonder how porn stars videos manage to do this all the time.
But how often did they really do it? Porn wasn't a nine-to-five sort of job, as far as she knew, but research had also taught her there were all sorts of "genre specialists". That said, she was almost sure those people also had sex off camera, so that meant they got practice in between shoots, right? How long did it even take to shoot a porno?
Misato's face smoldered as more and more questions swirled in her mind, and they all inevitably circled back to memories of last night. Though she'd been "exploring" with Kaji for over a month, it was only now that she realized that she'd been participating in something she'd only associated with adults.
With that revelation in mind, she stepped into the shower, and found the hot water felt mild against her burning skin, and did little to divert the deluge of questions.
How would've Shinji reacted if he walked in on them last night? Would he have been mortified? Disgusted?
"He'd probably throw a blanket over us…" she murmured to her face cleanser. "Make us put on clothes and march us out to kitchen so he could give us "The Talk" or something like that."
Their guardian had never broached the topic of sex, but some sliver of instinct within her knew it was inevitable; the man was both too protective, and was too meticulous not to. Regardless, the hypothetical situation hadn't come to pass-the Major had been too busy feeling "nostalgic", which she had no doubt meant hanging out with Mana.
But was that all that they'd been up to? Merely having a get-together didn't account for him staying out so late that he had crashed until almost noon.
Chances are they went to dinner and a movie, and then hit up a hotel, probably on her suggestion, she thought. All under the guise of time away from "the children".
Which begged the question: Did she also do anal? If so, what sort of prep did she do? Did he help out in anyway? And when he finally laid into her, did she cry out 'Shinji', or 'Major'?
Misato giggled-then stopped as she noticed the lingering ache in her backside had migrated to her front.
"God, what's wrong with me?"
She twisted the shower knob, nearly screaming as cold water bit into her hot flesh. The ache in her lions didn't subside; rather, it intensified into a sharp pain, as if her insides were trying to form a fist.
Misato looked down and watched as a trail of red trickled down her leg and spiraled down the drain.
"Speak of the fucking devil."
"Reservation for two, under Katsuragi."
The waiter hummed, taking her sweet time looking for the name everyone in town knew. Whether the woman was genuinely ignorant, or was putting on a show to make the restaurant seem busy-a quick glance around revealed it wasn't-Misato couldn't tell, and didn't care.
While she had quickly discovered Nerv was more than a little tight-lipped about its inner workings, she knew it couldn't hide that it was the city's largest employer outside the actual government, and that its leader was more or less a public figure. She also knew that the man practically lived off take out and tipped heavily, making him a favorite of every restaurant of whatever city he happened to be in. Misato idly wondered if any of the delivery people actually made it to Nerv proper, or if its leader sent out Section 2 like glorified errand boys.
Probably the latter, knowing him. Being separated from his work may as well be a sin.
"Ah, yes, Katsuragi," the woman finally said, perking up. "I apologize for the delay. Follow me, please."
The table the woman led them to was situated in a corner by a window, its peers conspicuously out of earshot of this apparent pariah. Whether or not the Commander had arranged it that way to prevent eavesdropping, or whether it was meant to give a sense of privacy, Misato could only guess. What she was sure of was that The Commander wasn't there, which meant she'd be left ripping up napkins while she waited for the inevitable text saying that she had wasted her time, again.
Misato slowed her pace as she approached the booth, tempted as always to simply turn around and walk out; she quickly decided that she actually would have done it, if Shinji hadn't been there to witness her desertion.
And so the teen sat down, and to her dismay discovered the napkins turned out to be cloth, not paper. The menus were paper, but laminated, which barred any hope she had of doodling the time away.
Resigned to a fate of boredom, she sighed and leaned against the window sill. To her surprise, Shinji sat down across from her and began inspecting the silverware.
"You're still here?" the teen questioned.
"Figured I'd keep you company while you wait. We've still got a good ten minutes before he's supposed to show up," He nodded to himself as he set aside a fork, then looked up at her. "Unless you'd prefer otherwise?"
Misato smiled. Even when he was doing someone a favor, Shinji always gave an out.
"No, you can stay," she said. "Thank you."
The waiter returned, slender glass cylinder of water in tow, the kind all the upscale restaurants seemed to use no matter the prefecture, no matter the city.
"May I take your order?"
Shinji's eyes flicked to the menu, and then out the window, "I'll stick with tea, for now. What about you, Misato?"
Misato's insides twisted in on itself, shooting out a fresh wave of pain into her lower back.
"I'll stick with tea too," she said.
The waitress retreated with a bow, and Misato took the opportunity to look around. The second story was just as empty as the first, which wasn't too surprising since it was past the lunch-rush, but that only served to make their table feel isolated.
Shrugging, she turned back to her dining partner and idly wondered how the two of them must've looked through the eyes of the other patrons. They certainly didn't look like parent and child since they looked nothing alike, which also ruled out being siblings. With those options off the table, coworkers passed through her mind before being quickly dismissed; she doubted anyone would think her old enough to hold down a job, or even attend high school.
Compensated dating, perhaps? her mind suggested.
A vision willed itself to the forefront of her thoughts; she was waiting outside the mall, picking at the hem of in her skirt as some black car smoothly pulled up beside her, its tinted window withdrawing just enough to allow a single eye to survey her. Terms would be set, money would change hands, and she'd be whisked away to some mid-tier restaurant similar to the one she now sat in-or at least that's how she imagined such an exchange would go down.
But Shinji would never do that…or would he?
She risked a quick glance at the man as he accepted a teapot from the returning waitress. The way he had looked at that Mana lady meant he wasn't a total herbivore, and the charged atmosphere whenever Sohryu appeared spoke volumes on its own.
How well do I really know him? Misato scanned her bosses' face, and realized she wasn't even sure how old he actually was. Late twenties, probably, though the lack of facial hair means he could be older… hold on, did I ever get around to asking him how he lost his eye?
You did,the day after the first angel, another voice in her mind chimed in. He tried making a lame joke about running with scissors, then apologized when you cringed. Then we went to that donut shop. He never actually told me why.
Misato chuckled at the memory; seeing her stern cyclops of a CO suddenly fret over her had been endearing, to say the least.
"Something wrong?" Shinji asked, filling their cups.
"Just remembering that time we got donuts."
Shinji chuckled and settled back into his seat, "Time sure flies, doesn't it?"
Misato nodded, a quiet soon settling, and it proved a fertile breeding ground for a new crop of questions, ranging from the inane to the absurd.
The teen's tongue itched and twisted to voice these inquires, but the memory of Shinji's vacant face and bitter words kept it behind her teeth. Was picking at that scab within him worth satisfying her curiosity?
He writes up those reports about me and Kaji doesn't he? It's only fair I get my due.
"Shinji…what was your dad like?"
His teacup stopped halfway to his mouth, "Pardon?"
"Your dad," she said, hearing her voice lose some of its confidence and hating it. "I mean, you started talking about him yesterday, but you never finished."
The fingers of his right hand flexed and curled into a claw-but to Misato's relief, they never formed into a true fist.
"Well…like I mentioned before, he was driven," he blew away a curl of steam. "Which I guess is a polite way of saying he didn't pay attention to things that didn't directly concern him, or what he wanted."
Like you.
Again, those unspoken words lingered in the air between them, and Misato grimaced as a twinge in her chest resonated with the one in her loins.
"He initially did what all fathers did. He fed me, put a roof over my head, and put me through school-all that sort of stuff. That was until my mother died. Then he, I don't know, stopped pretending to care," The claw withdrew, tucked itself away under its sibling. "No, it's more like he found what he wanted in Ayanami. Whatever kindness he had left in him, he reserved for her."
Misato frowned, leaning forward.
"Wait, Dr. Ayanami?"
"Yup," Shinji tilted his head so that the afternoon sun lit his face. "I'll give you three guesses."
Misato squinted at her guardian, mentally overlaying an image of Nerv's placid doctor over his.
Yes, she could see it now; their eyes were different, and his jaw was obviously more masculine, but otherwise the facial structure was eerily similar. How had she not seen it before?
"She's your cousin. No, sister?" Misato guessed.
"You were right the first time," he said with a twerk of his lips. "Though not too surprising you didn't realize before. It's not something that comes up often given we have different last names, we tend to stay out of each other's way."
Misato considered the statement, and after a moment found it to be true. She had rarely seen the two together-while they were on the command deck, she was usually in her Eva-and had never seen either of them go out of their way to talk to each other.
As the implications of this newfound insight dawned on Misato, Shinji continued.
"Ayanami is from my mother's side and also happens to be the spitting image of her, so I guess it made sense they'd get along," he picked up a spoon, frowning at his reflection. "Though I always thought they were a little too close."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"Never mind," his wrist flicked brusquely as if to shoo off the question. "You know what? If I'm really being honest, Gendo as always a bastard, no matter how you looked at it. You want to know what his last words were to me were?"
"What?"
The major leaned forward, and Misato mirrored the motion, ears straining to listen as the compassion in his voice degraded into something stern and inflexible, like a stone in the middle of a river.
"I can't bring myself to love you. From the moment you were born I was jealous of all the love your mother poured into you."
Misato opened her mouth, but for once words wouldn't come. No pressing question, no flash of insight-not even a stutter. Instead, a chill gripped her entire body, cold enough that it overrode the hot streaks radiating from her core.
What would she do if her father were ever to say that to her? Would she stare at him in disbelief, scream at him, walk out on him? Or maybe she'd just sit there in shock, as she did now.
"I…" she searched for words, failed, "That's fucked."
Her guardian leaned back and chuckled, though its bitter undertones projected anything but mirth.
"Language, young lady."
"Sorry."
"But yes, you're right, it was…messed up," he said. "I paraphrased a bit since he had a lot to say that day, almost like he knew what was going to happen and had to let it all out. Had to put me down one final time…"
Shinji took a sip of his tea, his eye losing its focus as it became engrossed with the dark liquid.
"So… what you're saying is…" Misato grasped for the right words, and discovered they hurt to even consider. She ejected them, lest they fester and rot within her. "…that it would take my father to be on his death bed before he finally talked to me, to actually be honest about how he feels?"
Her guardian stared at her with furrowed brow…and then dragged his hand across his face with a groan.
"God no," he said, "Look at me running my idiot mouth."
He reached forward to clap her hand in both of his.
"Listen, Misato, your father doesn't hate you, at least from what I can tell," he said. "He…how do I put it…Do you remember after the second angel, when you got fed up with up with me and you tried to move out?"
Misato sniffed and nodded. With her first stipend fresh in her bank account, finding a place of her own had seemed easy-at least until she had discovered she didn't have an actual ID, or an agent, or a guarantor, or any of the seemingly endless things apparently needed to even be considered for a lease.
In the end, she had managed to move into a unused utility closet located deep in the bowels of Nerv. Between the food served in the cafeteria, the showers being available 24/7 and her little nest of blankets and hoodies, she'd a good thing going for two days straight.
"How does anyone afford to live here?" she asked.
"The government practically paid people to move here when it was first built," he answered. "Anyway, I admittedly didn't know how to treat you then, given how you were already so self-sufficient, unlike me at that age."
"You still are, by the way, self sufficient I mean," he patted her hand and Misato warmed at the praise.
"Your father is the same way I was, except rather than try, he busies himself with work so he doesn't have to think about it. Although, he has made a few attempts," he gestured around them.
While Misato chewed on the words, Shinji shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.
"Do keep in mind you're not responsible for him, or how he acts, or how he feels. He's an adult, not a child."
He shifted again, face contorting.
"But at the same, try to understand where he's coming from…Otherwise you might find yourself somewhere down the line wondering if you should've tried."
He sighed and gently squeezed her hand.
"Am I making any sense?"
Misato wanted to say yes-the logic was sound and rather reasonable-but a niggling thought hastily wormed its way out of her mouth before she could voice her agreement.
"What if I try to understand him, and I still don't like him?"
Shinji frowned, tapping a nail against his cup, then a moment later, he shrugged.
"Well then you can always start your own family, and swear not make the mistakes he did. Simple as that."
My own family…The frown passed to Misato as she considered the idea. That means finding a partner, getting married…having kids.
An image of Kaji naturally came to mind. In the afterglow of one of their early sessions, he had skirted around the topic of "going steady". It made sense, on paper; they already lived together without any major issues and even managed to share the few chores Shinji didn't take care of himself. On top of that, they sucked and fucked like how she had seen lovers in movies do, so more than half the equation was pretty much solved.
That said, in the same way Shinji was an enigma, Kaji was worse. The night after they had coordinated to beat the sixth angel-through synchronized swimming, no less-had been her real introduction to the boy, and he had revealed just enough of his anxieties and physique to spark a fire in her loins. In hindsight, thee awkward tumbles that eventually lead to their first time seemed almost inevitable given their forced proximity, and empathy borne of the unique burden they shouldered.
However, ever since then her fellow pilot had kept his cards close to his chest-which she was okay with, so long as he kept his body close to hers.
Ultimately, she had done her part of skirting around an answer and tabling the topic indefinitely. The idea wasn't unappealing per se-it was just that even entertaining such a far-off fantasy only detracted from the pleasure of the present.
And do I even want kids? The teen looked at her caretaker and how he waited painfully. He was a prime example that someone could care for children and not be married, which rendered the whole ritual even more pointless in her eyes.
It seems like a pain the ass no matter what you try. But still…
"…I'll keep that mind. Thank you, Shinji-san," she reached for her tea, but stopped as another thought came to her. "Um, if I did start my own family, after the angels and everything…would you still be around? I mean, to call and stuff."
Shinji grinned, giving her a hand a final squeeze before withdrawing, "Of course. We look out for each other, don't we?"
"That we do," she returned the grin with a wider one. "You know, Shinji, I think you'd make a great dad someday."
Whatever response Misato had anticipated—him rubbing the back of his neck,or reaching forward to ruffle her hair—wasn't what she received. Rather, what she got was a front row to seeing his face collapse in on itself: his smile faltered, his nose crinkled, and his widened eye became a portal through which she could The Scab ooze out the blood that had filled his expression.
"…Thank you, Misato-chan," his lips made an attempt at curving, but only managed to spasm like an engine sputtering in its death throes. "But you and Kaji are more than enough for me…Ah, there's the Commander now."
Misato looked out the window, and sure enough, there The Commander was, being let out of a black van as he shielded his eyes from the sun.
"Call me if he doesn't have Section Two take you home," Shinji drained the last of his tea and stood up sharply, rattling the dishes as his knees hit the underside. "And I don't think it needs to be said, but please don't tell him what we talked about. I'd like to keep my job and stay with you two."
Misato reached a hand out to him, wanting to say something, anything to dispel the tension in the air- but she hesitated; guilt pushing her forward, and holding her back.
She compromised, making a zipping motion across her sealed lips, and he smiled-truly smiled, complete with squinted eyes bordered by crow's feet.
The Commander soon emerged from the stairwell, and the men greeted each other, exchanging pleasantries and snippets of empty small talk about work or whatnot. There was nothing in their words or body language to indicate that Shinji had all but accused the most powerful man in Tokyo-3 of being too cowardly to face a child.
Can one person really know another? Misato wondered as the head of Nerv HQ settled in across from her.
"I apologize for my lateness, I-" he began.
-got caught up in an unexpected meeting, Misato mentally completed.
"-got caught up in an unexpected meeting."
Once upon a time, during the few summers where Misato had been flown to see the man, she'd been privy to such meetings. Someone would flag her father down and lead him to a board room crowded by grim-faced men in suits, uniforms and lab coats, all sitting around a table made of some heavy wood. Her father would watch someone fill a dry-erase board with figures and numbers, too polite to break away as the sun drifted across the sky, or too engrossed to bother paying it heed, or the girl half asleep in the hallway.
"It's alright, we didn't wait that long," she lied. "What was the meeting about?"
"Budgeting and infrastructure," he said, wiping his reading glasses. "Dull things you wouldn't be interested in."
I bet Ritsuko would be interested.
Misato bit her tongue at the unbidden thought and simply nodded.
The Commander opened the menu and adjusted his spectacles, sniffing slightly as he ran a finger down the appetizers.
"Have you eaten yet?"
Misato's stomach quietly gurgled and she interpreted.
"No, but I'm hungry."
He made a clucking sound in what could've been annoyance, hailed the waitress with a wave, then sent her scurrying back with a few words and finger-jabs at the menu.
With her gone, the man sniffed twice more, then coughed into his fist-the age-old opening signaling Misato to mentally braced herself.
"So, how are things at school?"
My grades haven't gone down, but they haven't improved either. I'll never be valedictorian, and I don't want to be. You know this already.
"It's fine."
"And at Ikari's? Are you still quarreling with Kaji-kun?"
We both know that you know how things are going, so why bother asking? Can't you ask me something…real?
"Things are good. Shinji worries too much, but I'm there to keep him in check," she said with a smile. "And Kaji still puts on AC too high, but otherwise he's less obnoxious, I guess."
Her father's eyes briefly met hers, and she saw, or rather, perceived something shift behind the red-tinged brown of his irises. However, whatever it was, or had been, quietly disappeared as he grunted, and rolled on with the questioning.
"And how is the Major? Any troubles? Concerns?"
Didn't I just tell how he was, Misato thought, caught slightly off-guard. No, there's something else I can't quite put my finger on.
"Shinji is Shinji," she offered.
The Commander's face stiffened and his lips curled downward, apparently dissatisfied with her answer.
"That's not quite what I meant," he said. ""Has he been acting…strangely?"
Misato felt lips form a frown as she considered the question. Obviously this morning had been an anomaly, but why give her father anything to use against the one who acted more like one than he did himself?
"No, Shinji's great," she insisted. "He listens to my problems, makes time for me, and he's always on time. That's why you hired him, remember?"
The politer side of Misato warned too late that her words were too out of step with the rest of the conversation, but the rest of her was satisfied at seeing The Commander stiffen in place.
"I apologize if my lateness has made you upset," he said.
Misato shrugged, "I'm not upset about that, really, I'm not. You being late was a given."
"Then what is the matter?"
She gritted her teeth at the sheer gall of the question. The nonchalance in his voice alone was enough to grate on her, but the utter lack self-awareness in his face made her already molten guts churn and explode and her lips to peel back.
"Hmm, let me think," she growled. "It could be that my workaholic dad, who I only see three times a year, flies me out just to tell me to pilot his giant stupid robot, a robot that hurts to pilot, or else everyone on earth will die!
"Misato-"
"Or it could it be he apparently adopted another daughter and didn't tell me for four years!"
"Misa-"
"Or it could just be all this seafood everywhere makes me want to throw up!"
"Misato."
"What!" she barked, plates rattling as she slammed her hands on the table.
His eyes shifted to the side, but his head didn't move.
"You're causing a scene. Control yourself."
Misato stared at the man, the hot buzz that infested her brain turning his face a blurry mess…then she turned to where he was looking.
The smattering of other patrons had their eyes on their meals, doing what they thoughtwas their best attempt at ignoring the far-off corner of the restaurant. A select few were brave enough, or nosy enough, to openly gawk at her, although fewer still kept at it as her gaze swept other them.
At the edge of it all, their waitress held a serving tray to her chest like a shield, clearly caught between concern and professionalism-cringing as their eyes met.
Turning back, Misato realized she had stood up at some point and was leaning halfway across the table, towering over the seated Commander.
Misato had long dreamed of this moment: finally confronting her father and avenging herself for everything he'd put her through.
And now here she was. The inevitable had come to pass…but what had she accomplished? The righteous indignity that had burned within her was dwindling even as she tried to grasp at it, and in its wake she found only fumes and exhaustion.
Below her, the elder Katsuragi shielded his face from the onlookers with a hand to his temple, his weary features etched with a painfully familiar expression.
He wasn't humiliated-no, he was embarrassed.
Shinji's wrong. He knows how to deal with me, he's just ashamed to.
The revelation sapped what little energy she'd been using to hold herself, and, defeated, the pilot of Unit-01 slumped into her seat, hands limp at her at her sides.
Time passed around Misato-seconds, minutes, hours, it didn't matter- and somewhere in front of her the Commander began talking again, his tone reverted back to its usual timber.
"Next week," he said with deliberate calm. "It's the anniversary of your mother's death."
My mother. Your ex-wife.
A memory came to her at the thought, utterly unwanted-as most memories seemed to do.
Atop a grassy hill, a shrine Misato doubted she'd ever grow taller than, overlooked a field of its smaller brethren. At its base, her mother's immortalized smile beamed outward from behind a small set of glass doors for all to see.
Misato hated that monument, with how it obnoxiously drew the eyes of everyone within its sight. She hated the blue skies above the graveyard that was always bright, always sunny, and always willingly ignorant of the suffering beneath them.
But most of all, she hated the frozen smile plastered on perfect skin- both of which the doctors and their poison had long since taken away.
"I'm not going," she said.
"Excuse me?"
"I'm not going," she repeated. "What's the point? She's dead, buried, rotting. And what use is a fancy grave anyway? Why the picture? It's not like she can appreciate it."
He looked up, brow raised, and it took Misato a moment to comprehend that her thoughts had manifested as words.
I'm really losing it today, aren't I? But I was the one who insisted on this…I did this to myself.
"It's so the other visitors can appreciate her beauty, and know that she was loved," he said in a measured tone.
"Who cares what they think?" Misato countered, shaking her head. "They didn't know her and they never will!"
The teen kept shaking her head, but the grave and its fake smile persisted.
"Even I barely remember her…" her stomach gurgled, but to her it sounded like her mother trying not to drown as she struggled to sit up. "All I can see is how she was before they took her…just skin and bone."
"Be happy to know she passed away peacefully."
Misato stilled, then lifted her head to analyze her forbearer despite how much it hurt to do so. The answer to the question that came to her could only be found in his face, not his words.
"What were her last words?"
His eyes fled from hers, and his throat contracted to swallow nothing.
"She wanted you to be grow strong and healthy."
"You weren't even there?" Misato whispered. "Were you?"
The Commander's face continued to put on its spastic show, but ultimately it was the silence that condemned him.
"She died alone, didn't she?" Misato heard herself say. "Why am I not surprised…"
She wanted to wanted scream, wanted the anger from earlier to make a grand return, filling her until she felt her nails bite into her palms and her fist crunch into his face! Everything within her cried for this outcome, this destiny!
And yet, like before, the rage kept its distance, making vague notions that it would keep her in mind until next they met.
Beating on him is pointless, anyway, she reasoned. He'd only be embarrassed that I caused another scene.
A series of cheerful chirps jarred Misato to attention, just in time for her to see The Commander scramble to grab his phone from his pants.
"Hello? Yes, but I'm busy with…No…no, yes…go on…"
The man's eyes drifted to her, dry lips and tongue already on the cusp of forming some excuse. This she had anticipated, but now the routine had worn deep enough into that it finally hit bone.
"-Just go," she grunted. "Go and fuck off to your budgeting and your infrastructure and whatever else you do. I don't care."
The Commander hesitated, but Misato didn't spare him so much as a glance when finally rose to his feet and murmured something to the lingering waitress.
Misato did however look out window as she caught sight of his hunched shoulders exit the building and strode to his black car.
Next to the black car, a girl waited for him, touching his arm as he approached.
"I don't care…"
As it turned out, Misato wasn't the only thing that had been exhausted by lunch.
Her phone didn't so much as attempt to boot up and die-it simply stayed dead, and its owner quietly envied its ability to not even bother.
A glance at the clock above the front desk told her the Commander and pilot had "touched base" for a grand total of ten minutes, while she had lingered for close to an hour-a new record for both of them.
Ignoring the concerned look of the staff she left behind, Misato stepped out of the shadow of the restaurant's awning and found no one waiting for her- no black vans, no expressionless agents, no girl with concern plastered across her face.
In their place, the denizens of Tokyo-3 flowed around Misato like a stream, the majority sidestepping around her without pause-though a few in the river spared her a brief glance.
All in all, willfully oblivious or not, no one stopped to talk to her.
It wasn't as though she could blame them, however; everyone before her was a stranger with no obligation to give her the time of day.
And that's all they were really were, whether she was looking down from atop her Eva or head-on at street-level: strangers-thousands upon thousands of strangers, who didn't know her name, and likely didn't care to.
In the midst of all this humanity. Misato realized she had never felt more alone in her life.
"I don't care I don't care…I-"
"Hey, twerp! Misato! Earth to Misato!"
The girl turned, and her ears were assailed by a honk from a red car that had managed to pull up beside her. Dazzled by the sleekness of its design, and its apparent ability to sneak up on her, Misato took in the vehicle fully.
It quickly became apparent why the crimson Porsche 911 had managed to go unnoticed-the rumble of its engine so quiet as to be a purr. Furthermore, its chassis hung low to the ground that she was sure she would've missed the car entirely if her head wasn't tilted her downward. The low frame also allowed Misato the height needed to look down at a set of vaguely foreign features.
The woman in the driver's seat adjusted her shades, revealing lake-blue eyes narrowed in irritation.
"Do you need a lift, or what?" Inspector Sohryu asked.
"I…" Misato looked up the street, to where the train station lay hidden behind a few skyscrapers. If she strained against the heaviness that weighed down part of her body, getting back home would take her half an hour-but that also was contingent of the train being there when she arrived. That said, even if she did win the fight against her body and luck favored her, the prospect of being trapped in a metal box with dozens of strangers was downright repugnant.
The girl shuddered under the summer sun and turned away from the city, "I do need a lift. Thank you."
"Then get in already."
Misato obeyed, and the car bullied its way into traffic before she had time to put on her seatbelt.
"…or base."
"Huh?"
"Pay attention would ya?" Sohryu scoffed. "I said home, or base. Where do you want to go?"
The answer wasn't immediate to Misato, but when it did present itself, she couldn't help but grimace.
Going anywhere near the Geofront invited the risk of potentially running into The Commander again. However, going home meant being alone, since Kaji was likely out with his friends by now, or doing whatever he did in his own time.
There was always the chance the boy was still home, but exposing the wretched state she was in made her skin crawl; she didn't need pity, The Commander had given her enough of that already.
With those two choices eliminated, Misato was confronted with the only real option: walking the street until she found a cafe to hide herself in, scarfing down sweets until the sun went down, or she was kicked out.
"Twerp?"
"Neither," Misato decided. "Just pull over when you have the chance. I'm sorry for wasting your time."
"Like hell I will. Shinji would nag my ear off if I left you wandering the streets like a bum," Asuka said. "I've got shit to do at my place so you can crash there for now."
Misato took a moment to consider; the offer was kind, despite its thorny wrapping.
"Thank you, again."
Asuka nodded and pressed a button on the steering wheel. A beep came through the speakers, followed by the opening beats of a pop song.
Misato cocked her head to the side, recognizing the song from what she heard coming from the Shinji's room sometimes. She never paid enough attention to remember the lyrics, so she made due with humming along, and out of the corner of her eye saw Asuka raise an eyebrow.
Misato focused her full attention on the woman without moving her head; here was yet another mystery she was familiar with.
How much did she know about Inspector Sohryu? Far less than she did Shinji, that much was certain.
Compared to the Major, Inspector Sohryu didn't seem the type to open up with a simple prodding, and she likely didn't have any patience for such attempts to begin with.
"I'm guessing lunch with the Commander went to shit," Asuka said.
Misato looked up, and was redirected to a rear-view mirror with a tap of a chewed fingernail.
Even at a glance, the answer was self-evident-her reflection was a far cry from the one that had navigated out of trouble that morning. Her hair was a frizzy mess, her eyes bloodshot, and her upper lip was crusted over with a noticeable layer of snot. Yet worst of all, her less than desired features easily conjured The Commander's own tired face to mind.
The girl shrank back from the parody, trying to clean herself up as best she could.
"I…I hate him," she said quietly. "…my father. I hate him."
The words weren't quite as liberating as had expected-a trifle in comparison to her initial outburst in the restaurant-but Misato felt a weight lift from her chest.
Asuka snorted as she accelerated past a yellow light, "Congrats on joining the club."
Misato looked up, "You too?"
The woman scowled, then flicked her wrist dismissively.
"Same reasons you do."
Misato bit the inside of her cheek, not quite sure what to do with this new knowledge. Asuka was talking at least, though she couldn't quite tell if the woman was annoyed at her, or just in general.
"Does…anyone like their father?"
"Normies, apparently," Asuka answered. "Hold on, I've gotta text The Idiot."
'The Idiot' in question could only be Shinji, given that's what the redhead seemed to favor calling him. How the ill-suited nickname came to be was another mystery Misato added to her growing list, though she did know its bearer never seemed to take offense at it.
To Misato's surprise, Asuka whipped out her phone and started typing one-handed, something she was sure her Shinji would've abhorred.
"You really shouldn't text and drive," Misato admonished.
Her complaint met with rolled eyes, "You a narc or something?"
"No, but-"
The car swerved, the sudden motion pressing Misato into the passenger door as they skirted within inches of an oncoming truck. A burst of honks and curses chased the porsche, and were swiftly swallowed by a cloud of road-dust-but not before Asuka threw back her head and added to it.
"Fick dich auch, arschloch!"
The woman continued to grumble foreign swears as Misato clutched her chest.
"I really should know better than assume other people can drive," Asuka growled, throwing the phone in the backseat. "See in Germany, we've got something called standards when it comes to getting your license."
Misato merely nodded, unwilling to distract the woman further.
Before them, the streets quietly gave way to the turnpike, and within moments Asuka's crimson bullet of a sports car openly flirted with the speed limit as it weaved past its inferiors. The journey was remarkably free of any sharp turns or foreign curses, and soon the world dimmed around Misato as exhaustion set into her marrow-though by the transition of gray blurs and smears into green and brown, she could tell they were leaving the city far behind.
Time floated by, and the vehicle resentfully slowed to 40km as it exited the express lane passing through the guts of a suburb.
True to Misato's gut-feeling about the redhead, her home was big and expensive looking, appearing even more so in the way it sat alone on a hill overlooking a dead end street with no neighboring houses on either side. Even the building's curtained windows gave off the impression of open contempt as they pulled into the driveway.
"Don't touch anything until you've washed hands," Asuka said, rounding the car to pop open the trunk. "Last thing I need is your snot all over my stuff."
Misato bristled and stuck her tongue at the woman's lowered head, "I'm a soldier, not a child."
"Whatever you say, child-soldier."
With a case of beer in each hand, Asuka fiddled with the door handle until it finally turned, then promptly turned sideways to squeeze between boxes stacked neck-high on either side of the frame. Misato followed, and soon discovered the tunnel of boxes continued all the way down the entryway, only subsiding-not ceasing-until they reached the living room, where the packages occupied every available surface.
The redhead pointed down an adjacent hall, "Hurry and wash up before Shinji accuses me of beating you or something."
Misato continued to bristle, but followed along, and found the bathroom thankfully devoid of boxes, though the countertop was crammed with all sorts of lotions, soaps and creams of varying size, shape and color.
The teen returned to the living room, and found her host settling into a recliner with a beer.
"Take those," Asuka pointed to the table, where a blister pack of two yellow pills sat next to a glass of water.
"…For?"
"Cramps," Asuka said, popping off a bottle cap on a groove in the table-one of many, Misato noted. "You've got that look on your face."
"Oh…thanks."
Misato plopped onto the couch opposite the German and downed the pills, then tried in vain to find a coaster for her glass.
"So," Asuka propped her feet up on the table. "How's Kaji been?"
"He's alright," the teen said, lifting her glass to obscure her blush. "Still trying to grow a beard."
Asuka snorted, "Shinji hasn't taught him to shave yet? I'm surprised."
"He said something about not wanting to step on Kaji's personal style, whatever that means."
"Tch, boys will be boys," Asuka snorted again and twirled a lock of hair. "How's the major idiot himself?"
Misato chewed her lip at the question. Asuka wasn't her father, poking about their lives for whatever reason, and as Kaji had pointed out last night Shinji's business was still his own.
That said, now she had distance away from her caretaker, his sudden mood swings were…concerning, to say the least.
"He's doing what he does, although he seems…distracted, at times."
"Let me guess," Asuka took another swig and rolled a shoulder. "He's trying to keep up appearances while trying to not look like he's not drowning in paperwork. Meanwhile, he gets all moody if you say the wrong thing."
Misato nodded, enthused the Inspector had hit the nail smack-dab on its head, "Yeah, actually."
"Typical. He couldn't be Shinji-like if he tried."
So they really are old friends, huh?
Sipping her water, Misato set her tone to neutral, and cast out a lure.
"Hey, you knew Shinji before he worked at Nerv, right?"
The redhead stopped drinking and fixed her with a look.
"Obviously."
"What was he like before he joined?" Misato asked. "He doesn't really talk about himself much."
It was a fib of course, especially given the talk in the restaurant, but what difference would it make if Asuka knew or not?
"Well, we were neighbors up until middle school and I'll tell you right now, he was even worse back then, if you can believe it," Asuka scowled, leaning back. "He always tried to stay out people's way so he wouldn't have to engage with the world or take responsibility when things went to shit."
"Then his mother died…and he moved away…"
"Anyway, we ended up running into each other in Antarctica, also known as a slice hell in the middle of fucking of nowhere," Asuka stretched. "No doubt even The Idiot bitched to you about that god-awful place."
Antarctica? Misato searched her memory, and stumbled upon the name dwelling in a vague impression of a history class. Isn't that place gone?
The question was in the middle of rolling off her tongue, but Asuka kept talking, oblivious.
"Skip ahead half a decade and we met again on the Over The Rainbow," she said, finishing off her beer while reaching for another. "And the rest is history."
Misato remembered that meeting all too well: Shinji's discomfort upon seeing Asuka, the gruff old captain and his pup with the ascot, Kaji nearly falling over board trying to flirt with Kiyomi.
Had that really only been two months ago since that fateful day? In comparison to the two adults, her relationship to Kaji was downright infantile. As a matter of fact, it was older than Misato herself.
"That's a long time to know someone," Misato said.
"Yeah, and the sky's blue," Asuka huffed. "What of it?"
"Nothin', just sayin'."
Asuka shrugged, then fixed her gaze on Misato.
"Hey, your boss isn't hanging out with any weirdos is he? Any skanks? Pretty boys?"
"No," Misato said, recalling Mana's radiant smile and tasteful dress. "No one like that."
"You sure about that?"
"Well…"
Mana's smile was the brightest when she was touching the Major, and I'm still pretty sure they slept together.
"…I mean…"
Asuka narrowed her eyes, and with what could only be practiced ease, grabbed a beer, popped the cap on the table's edge, and slid it Misato's way.
Misato caught the bottle, looking down its narrow neck in fascination before she turned back to the woman.
"Consider it a bribe. I won't tell if you don't," Asuka jabbed a finger at Misato's face. "And don't you dare tell him I've been drinking either. I know where you sleep, twerp."
Misato touched the cool brown glass and its label plastered with what she presumed to be German-and couldn't deny she was curious. As with sex, drinking was another adult habit that had at some point seeped into her mind and clung there like mold.
That the drink was being presented to her in secret, like her deeds with Kaji, added to the thrill rising within her.
Besides, Misato thought. I don't want to seem ungrateful after all she's done for me.
The teen raised the beer with a firm grip, and Asuka completed the toast.
Despite what Misato had expected, the beer went down smoothly, and causeda mild warmth tospreadout from her center-a welcome parallel of her period pains from earlier.
The aftertaste kinda sucks, but I could get used to this.
"Slow down, kid," Asuka reached forward to slap on the shoulder. "It's not going anywhere."
"I-It's good," Misato said, stifling a belch with her hand.
"Damn right it is! Had to drive halfway across the whole damn city to find a decent place that imported. I swear Second Impact must've somehow destroyed all of Japan's good distillers."
Encouraged, Misato went at the bottle again, nearly emptying it before Asuka raised a hand.
"Now talk."
"Well, yesterday…" Misato used the time it took to swallow to carefully choose her words. "…There was this woman in the school parking lot, talking to Shinji. They seemed close, and he said she was an old friend, like you and Aida-san. Said all of you served in the same unit."
In a heartbeat, all the air around seemed to be sucked out of the room, leaving Misato to watch in growing apprehension as the Asuka's pensive face smoothed into a familiar mask of inhuman vacancy, her bright blues dulling to the color of well-water reflecting rain clouds.
There it was-another scab she had somehow managed to gouge open.
Why does this keep happening? Are my words really that harmful? Or is this just the consequence of knowing someone?
Lost within her thoughts, the pilot was left unprepared as Asuka leaned forward and fired off a barrage of questions.
"What'd she look like? What was her name? Was she dressed in uniform?"
"B-brown hair, good looking, but in a plain kind of way," Misato stammered out. "Said her name was Mana."
"Stay there," Asuka rose to her feet and stomped down a hallway, heels clacking against the wood floor.
The far off sound of things being shuffled and knocked over filled the house, then moments later the German returned, thrusting a picture frame at Misato's face.
"She look like this?"
It took her a moment of adjusting to the haze settling over her mind, but Misato quickly realized she was looking at the same photo as the one from Shinji's.
All the same people were still smiling, or scowling-although the perspective had changed dramatically.
This picture wasn't folded.
Misato's eye immediately honed in on the pale arm around Shinji's shoulder, which now had a body attached and a face to go along with it. Said face smiled mischievously at her, its red eyes stared back, hiding a secret.
So the mystery person is a pretty boy. Huh…no, he's beautiful.
The teen had little time to dwell on the thought as Asuka's finger a nail tapped against it, making the teen jump in her seat, "Pay attention! Is this her?"
The finger lifted and a young Mana peeked out from beneath, unperturbed by the treatment.
"Y-Yeah, that's her. That's who we saw."
The picture was taken back and tossed to the floor, where it skittered before hitting a wall.
"What did they talk to about?"
"I didn't overhear them," Misato shifted in her seat. "But it sounded like she asked him to think something over…"
The flesh around Asuka's mouth curdled into a snarl, and in that moment, Misato became acutely aware that even if she screamed, there was little doubt anyone in the surrounding cul-de-sac would hear her.
"And?"
"I think they had dinner last night or something because Shinji didn't come back 'til morning," the teen blurted out. "Like I said, it's none of my business."
"I see…" the snarl quivered, warped, before finally settling into a flat line. "Whatever, let that idiot do whatever he wants, whoever he wants. Like you said, it's none of your business, right? It's none of mine either."
The redhead plopped down on the sofa, reached for another beer, and finished it off with three long gulps.
"What do I care? I don't care, that's what."
Misato kept silent.
"Listen, Misato, if Mana shows her face again you call me, alright?" Asuka pointed her bottle at Misato like a dagger. "And if she asks you or Kaji anything about Nerv or piloting, play dumb. That's an order, understand?"
Part of Misato doubted Inspector Sohryu had the authority to actually issue such an order-she was just an inspector after all, whatever that meant-but her seething face brooked no argument. Even so, the rest of her had little doubt the redhead would carry out whatever retribution followed disobedience.
"Alright," Misato conceded. "But who is she? Shinji said you guys were friends, right?"
Asuka's reply was instantaneous, "She's a bitch and we are not, emphasis on not, friends. That's all you need to know."
Misato sipped the remainder of her beer, washed down the lingering bitterness with some water, and mulled over what sort of person the fuming redhead would consider a bitch. Surely, whoever this Mana woman was couldn't be that bad?
"And another thing-"
The words were cut off as knock resounded through the house, followed by several more in quick succession.
"Asuka! Are you home? Asuka!"
Asuka glowered at the direction of the noise, then rose to her feet and stomped down the hallway. Misato followed suit-or at least attempted to.
She had definitely willed her body to stand, but the entire thing lagged behind the command, and she flopped back onto the couch.
Feels kind of like piloting…but I'm piloting myself.
Confused and increasingly nauseous, Misato made due with craning her neck towards the door, and was just in time to see Asuka pull it open to reveal a wide-eyed Shinji with his fist raised.
"What do you want Ikari, besides a lesson in etiquette?" Asuka said.
Shinji's face scrunched at the question, confusion briefly overpowering urgency before twisting back into place.
"I want to know why Misato got picked up by someone matching your description in a car that matched yours, and why you aren't answering your phone."
"First off, don't you dare yell at me in my own home," Asuka spit out, jamming a finger into his chest. "Second, just how many redheads driving red cars are there in this entire country, Shinji?"
"That's why I'm-I'm not y-Why are you-" Shinji dragged his hand across his face. "Look, I'm not here to argue with you. Is Misato here or not?"
"Of course she is. I texted you like an hour ago saying I picked up her," Asuka waved a hand behind her. "You're welcome, by the way. I found her wandering the street like some urchin."
"You didn't text me.I would've seen it since I've been trying to callyou for the past half an hour."
"Bullshit! I-" The rest of the sentence disintegrated as the woman patted her pockets, then sucked her teeth. "Fick mich."
"Um," Misato called out, flopping an arm over the edge of the couch. "I'm right here, Shinji-san."
Shinji looked over Asuka's shoulder, then pushed past her, nearly toppling a dozen boxes-and their fuming owner-in the process.
"Thank god," he said. "Why didn't you call me? Why didn't you go home?"
Misato looked away. Normally he towered over her-the top of her head barely reaching his shoulder-but with her now sitting down, she felt decidedly small.
"M-My phone died…and I wanted to be alone."
Her caretaker started to say something, but that diminished to a sigh as he placed a hand on her shoulder.
"And this is why I always tell you to charge your phone-"
"I know."
"-f there'd been an accident? Or one of those doomsayers had grabbed you. Or-"
"Jesus Christ Shinji, will you just relax," Asuka cut in, moving to stand beside the man. "We were just having some girl time."
Shinji sighed again, "Look, I'm sorry. I was just worried something had happened. You watch the news, don't you?"
"Well nothing did happen, so give it a rest already, idiot."
Shinji shook his head and began to straighten, but his ascent slowed as his head tilted to take in the bottles on the table.
"Asuka…isn't it a little early for you to be self medicating?"
"That's rich coming from you," she waved her hands at the boxes surrounding them. "And stop looking at my stuff. I'll get to it, so stop judging me. I know you are-I can practically feel it. And before you ask, your stupid bird isn't in one of the boxes. I'm still fighting those dummkopfs in the Customs department."
"I know, I know, everything has its place, everything has an order," Shinji raised his hands, palms. "Thank you for trying anyway."
"If you know then shut up. Or man up and help me like you always say you will."
As the adults argued, Misato made another attempt at standing-but again, her body betrayed her, choosing instead to stagger sideways.
Shinji reached out, catching her under the arm.
"You alright there?" he asked. "What's wrong?"
"Just, uh, got up too fast. Think it's vertuh…" she grasped for the word even as it slipped around her tongue. "Vertuh…Veeerrr…ver-ti-go? Yesh, Vertigo."
Misato nodded to herself, admittedly a little frustrated but proud she'd overcome this latest challenge in her life. Vocabulary had never been her forte, but by God she'd done it!
Beside her, Shinji hunched down, his worried expression making clear he didn't share in the feeling.
"Misato-chan…Did you any of drink of those beers?"
The girl turned away, and but couldn't escape how she could feel her rising pulse throb under his grip. Averting her eyes also had the unintended affect of putting Asuka right in the center of her view-her hands balling into fists at her side as she stepped forward.
"Nope."
"Misato," he said slowly. "Please tell me the truth."
"Shinji, listen-"
"Inspector Sohryu, I am talking to a pilot under my care," he said, not turning to face her. "What you have to say can wait."
"Now, Misato-chan, I'll ask you again, and I promise you won't get in trouble if you tell me the truth," he grabbed a bottle and presented it to her. "Did you drink from any of these beers?"
"Y-yes," Misato stammered, unable to look at the redhead fidgeting beside them.
"How much did you drink?"
"Just one."
He put the bottle down and picked up the empty blister packs, turning it over with his fingers as he examined the small print.
"And these? What are these?"
"Their painki-"
"Asuka, enough," the pills took the place of the bottle before Misato's eyes. "Misato-chan, did you take these with the beer."
"I drank water too!" she pointed at her glass, half-full. "I know you're supposed to do that. I'm not stupid!"
"I'm not saying you're stupid," Shinji grimaced, eye twitching. "Did you eat anything at the restaurant after I left?"
"No, everything shmelled gross."
"How do you feel? Are you nauseous? Can you see straight?"
"I'm fine," she asserted. She could understand his concern, but the continued back and forth was starting to get on her nerves, "Really I am, so let go of me already."
Shinji loosened his grip and straightened, leaving her to wobble as he raked his fingers through his hair.
"Misato-chan, I want you to wait in the car. There should be a water bottle in the glove compartment. Drink it."
"I said I'm fi-"
"Misato," the words rolled out an inexorable tide, sweeping everything else aside with the ease of a oncoming wave. "Get in the car-
"Shinji-"
"Drink the water-"
"I-"
"-Wait for me."
"But-"
"Pilot Katsuragi, that was a direct order!"
Misato looked up in shock as Shinji drew himself to full height and crossed his arms. His face may as well have been carved from stone. It was the same face he'd worn. The same face he wore.
"Go. Drink. Wait. I will not repeat myself again. Do you understand?"
The man's face might as well been brick wall for all the humanity it projected. It was the face he wore when taking charge of the Command Center, and the same whenever an angel-the enemy, the adversary, the driving force that had uprooted her quiet life and wanted the remainder in flame-attacked.
And now, the third child bore brunt of that cold stare, and seethed in defiance.
How dare you look at me like that? I'm not the enemy. I'm-
'-You're causing a scene. Control yourself.'
The third child rocked on her heels as the words punched through her; she staggered, but no one was there to catch as the back her knee collided against the table and she fell on her ass.
A shadow fell over Misato, but she pushed past it-rising voices chasing at her heels as she made for the exit. Unfortunately, her escape from the shadow and the voices met with dead end as she tried to work the locks on door with trembling fingers.
"God, what is your problem! You always make a big deal out of everything!"
"The big deal is that the Commander is already on my ass for losing track of her, and now she's drunk enough she can barely stand."
"Well he's not going to find out that last part, so what's the big deal?"
"Asuka, the whole reason I tried calling you is because Ayanami wants to do more blood tests for some experiment she's running, something you would've known if either of you had just picked up the phone…but even if there weren't any tests, what would you have me do there was an attack right now? Field a pilot who can't walk straight? She'd do more damage to the city than the angel."
There was a pause, and Misato held a ragged breath, imagining the blare of the alarm, the people rushing to their shelter, the smell of blood as she took in LCL.
"Look, you made your point. I fucked up, I admit it," Asuka grunted. "But this wouldn't have happened if you didn't smother them so much she'd rather wander the streets than go home."
"I don't smother them, Asuka, I'm responsible for them," Shinji fired back. "And this is just one example of why they chose me to look after them, not you."
"Are you saying I couldn't handle a couple of snot-nosed brats!?"
"I'm saying that you couldn't handle getting out of bed on a good day!"
"Well at least I'm not being lured in by that slut Mana, again!"
"How do you-No, no of course you of all people would know, Inspector!"
"…You're always doing this, always sticking your nose in other's people's lives and taking what you want without thinking…you haven't cha-"
Misato covered her ears and the words finally, mercifully stopped. However, she couldn't escape the feeling of déjà vu that had already begun to crash over her, driving her to knees.
All of this had happened before: the arguing, the fumbling of locks, the covering of her ears. All this she was certain of-just as she was certain that it was all her fault, both in past and present.
Misato lurched back down the hallway, blindly stumbling over boxes until she reached the source of her pain.
"Stop it. Just stop it! Please!"
"Misato, I told you to-"
"Shinji-"
The angel alarm boomed through the windows, rattling the house's bones as it obliterated their words.
Despite having been fielded for almost every angel attack thus far, Misato had never been driven into the city during one-and she quickly discovered that it presented its own logistical nightmare.
A great number of people had done their part in making for the shelters throughout the city, but the remainder had fled-on foot, or in their cars. The total number of these people was tiny in comparison, but there were enough of them that Shinji had been forced to swerve around more than a few corner-cutting speedsters taking advantage of the empty streets, who seemed to deaf to the siren he'd affixed on his car.
Said siren worked in tandem with the angel alarm to aggravate Misato's burgeoning headache, to the point they had pulled over twice so she could try, and fail, to vomit up her misery and shame-all while her CO's eyes darted between her and the creature descending from the heavens.
Even from a distance, the angel was difficult to look at; its undulating body akin to a snake fused with a puzzle cube of glass trying to solve itself faster than their eyes could follow. Any effort on her part to analyze the thing, to spot some opening in its dizzying configuration, had triggered a third round of dry-heaving, but by then she was already being pulled through the guts of Nerv and into her Eva.
Changing into her suit had presented its own ordeal-her normally functioning fingers rendered useless from nerves, guilt and the lingering alcohol in her system. The shaking had gotten bad enough that Ritsuko, already suited up and waiting, had offered a hand, leaving Misato to swallow her pride and accept it.
In the end, her suit troubles and her pride were of little consequence; after the briefing, Shinji had taken her aside and told her, in no uncertain terms, that she was to serve as back up.
So here she sat-the pilot with the highest sync ratio, the most combat experience, and the best kill record-sidelined; benched.
Little Miss Perfect will get the job done. She'll clean up your mess and everyone will flock to her. Father, Shinji, Kaji, everyone. A voice-far too similar to Misato's own-chimed in her head. They don't need someone like you.
"Shut up," the girl squeezed her eyes and covered her ears against the voice. "Just shut up for once."
"Is something wrong, Pilot Katsuragi?"
Misato slammed the comm button hard enough that the sound echoed through the entry plug.
"I'm fine, Doc! What's taking so long?"
"We will be releasing the LCL in a moment. Please standby."
The moment came too soon, it turned out; Misato gagged as the smell of blood filled the chamber, then her lungs, and she had yet to acclimate before her display lit like a fireworks show.
"What's going on out there!"
"Thermal energy detected! Unit 00 has been hit-"
"Right leg has suffered massive damage. Whole things been slagged. She's a sitting duck out there!"
"Kaji, move to intercept-"
"Unit 02 is already on the move!"
"Registering another spike!"
"Unit 02 has managed to deflect the beam but has suffered damage to the sternum!"
Within an instant, the entry plug that housed Misato became a claustrophobic prison from which she couldn't swim out of. She punched the comm. display and screamed out her frustration, "Someone talk to me!"
"Angel is preparing another attack. Wavelength of the enemy beam has changed! No thermal energy detected!"
"What do you-"
"Unit 02 has been hit! Pilot's psychograph is showing abnormal readi-"
"-get out don't touch him you've been waiting for this sorry should've been my fault-"
"Mental contamination confirmed! Pilot Ryoji has been compromised!"
"Eject him and send a retrieval squad ASAP!"
"Ejection signal is being rejected! We can't reach the pilot!"
"Mental contamination?"Misato shouted. "What does that even mean!"
None of the voices answered her.
"Gah, I don't have time for this!" Misato flipped a series of switches, and before she could draw another breath, was crushed into her seat as her Eva rocketed upward.
"Misato, get back in the elevator! The target is too far away for you to hit with your rifle. "
"I don't care, I'm going to ave Kaji!"
"Leave him. There's already a rescue unit inbound to retrieve him."
"There's no time!"
"I said leave him! That's an order!"
"Fuck that!"
"Misato!"
Misato barreled through the streets, through homes and small businesses, until she found Unit 02 flailing on its side at the center of what had been a four-way intersection.
"Kaji, it's okay! I'm here! Just stop moving!"
She reached for him, but he kicked and bucked in her grasp.
"Brother brother brother run get out-"
"Kaji-
Misato's words and Kaji's gibberish were consumed as the world screamed through her earpiece-and she deciphered just enough of the aural chaos to look at the sky.
The angel was simultaneously unfolding and folding onto itself from seemingly infinite angles, the only focal point Misato's eyes could track being the sun that glared through its center. The process accelerated as she watched, light darting and refracting through its innards a hundred times over, a thousand, a billion-
"Misato!"
The third child thrust her arms outward and her AT-Field sprang forth to meet the oncoming beam. The attack splashed against the ephemeral shield… and for a moment Misato felt as if she were holding the sun itself-
-then the shield failed, leaving Misato blinded, and her skin blistering under the light.
She cried out and gravity abandoned her, sending her flying, falling, spinning end over end over end over-
CRASH!
She felt her skull crunch as she landed heels-over-head and she retched as stars danced across her vision like pool balls in a blender.
Misato tried sucking in air to scream and received vomit-her suited fingers clawing in vain at her searing throat.
"God it's in for my fucking eyes!"
The chorus of chaos answered her call, drowning out her pleas with its endless throats.
Get up get up get up I have to get up! I have to fight!
She opened her mouth to scream as her vomit tinged world became bleached out, hell-fire entering her eyes and boiling them in their sockets and-
-she felt nothing.
Nothing.
She felt no skin-blistering heat, no skull-splitting headache-and certainly no weaponized sunlight.
In fact, there wasn't even any screaming-just the background chatter of the afternoon weatherman reminding her to bring an umbrella if she was going to be out past eight, and to keep in mind that curfew still applied.
"Misa-chan, be a dear and change the channel for me? I think I've had enough of the new for today."
Misato blinked away her confusion, then looked up to take in the speaker.
The speaker was a woman reclining back in a hospital bed, humming softly as she ate from a plate of peeled oranges. Misato remembered how she had pleaded to be the one doing the peeling, having seen how the woman cringed when she worked her discolored nails against the fruit, paring as much of its skin as she did her own.
The woman, prideful as ever, had initially refused, until eventually said pride was outweighed by suffering-and so Misato had been able to feel useful, for a time.
"I…what?"
"Misato, are you listening? I swear you must've inherited your father's ears."
Misato's vision blurred as she looked at the tuft of hair on the collar of the woman's scrubs.
"Mother?"