I Knew Him When interlude
Adam Kadmon
Disclaimer: you're suspending your disbelief… you're suspending your disbelief… I don't own Evangelion…
"Once upon a time, there was a man. He was ambitious and fearless. But he was still a man. He met a brilliant young scientist and some say he fell in love with her. Others say it was a relationship of convenience, for both of them. He wanted the support of her beneficiaries, and she wanted a father for the child she desired. The exact classification of their bond was debated by even the closest of their friends.
"They were married shortly after what we call the Second Impact occurred. They were married, and they had a child. A son. He was alive to see the formative steps society made at the turn of the century, the years of hell following the catastrophe. He was there too, to see when his mother was taken by the hands of God to a world of living death. His father left him to pursue an important work, the most important work, and they grew apart. Some say they were never together.
"The boy grew and was sad, and had never been taught the word 'no.' His father called on him one day, and ordered him to fight many giants that threatened his kingdom, and because he could not say no, he fought.
"He fought and fought and fought, and with every giant he slew, a part of him died as well. Until finally, faced with the accumulated losses by his hand, he wished for death. And he was given death. He gave everyone death.
"But then he made another wish, and the world was restored, to a degree. His choice was mankind's choice. Every human being was forced to decide. Between life, and non life. At present, nearly two billion have chosen life, including you and I. The rest are all locked away, dreaming each other's dreams, in a place without physical boundaries or individuality. A mass dream. Not unlike the nightmares that plague those who have returned from the sea.
"Not too many people talk openly about it, but it is an irrefutable matter of fact. No one is happy to go to sleep nowadays. I know you've had them, too. The familiar dream where an infinite number of eyes all watch you, where your body dissolves into blood, where your thoughts grow outside your mind and a million alien thoughts enter in their place. Do you wake up screaming anymore? I wonder sometimes… I wonder what the son dreams of. Do you?"
"It's pointless to wonder," Aida Kensuke said. "And I know all of that. Did you call me out here just to flex your story telling abilities?"
The bar he was in was sparsely occupied. From the back, sitting in a tiny booth, the other patrons at the front counter were lost in a sea of cigarette smoke. Lights hung suspended freely like stars in a misty night sky.
Kensuke regarded the man beside him, who had contacted him yesterday, referring to him by a name no one but his closest contacts knew of. That alone necessitated the trip.
The man was short and small, with slicked back hair and a thin moustache hanging on his lip. He exuded relaxed confidence, the benefit of knowing far too much about far too many things.
"I expected you to know a little," the man beside Kensuke went on, "but where did you hear the rest?"
"Here and there. Where I learned it isn't important."
"I suppose not. Man does have an insatiable hunger for knowledge, does he not? Even when that knowledge is dangerous and forbidden. Man is a silly creature, really. Don't you agree?" The man waited for a response, got none. He shrugged good-naturedly. "What do you know about the Tokyo-2 tragedy?"
Kensuke shifted the weight on his seat, his fingers clawing around the rim of his glass on the table.
"Not a lot," he admitted. "It's still a bit too recent to openly talk about conspiracy theories. A lot of people died that day."
"Yes, many people died. But the real question is, what did they die for?"
"Let me guess," Kensuke said. "You're not going to say national sovereignty, are you?"
"Oh, it was the impetus for the action, but it was not the underlying cause. Radicals, in a sense, did trigger it. The deaths of so many. Actually, I believe it was inevitable, in its own way."
"Inevitable?"
"Well, not fated or anything like that. But a logical outcome."
"Bullshit," Kensuke whispered fiercely. "I knew a lot of good people that died that day. They aren't coming back. It was caused by some lone nut who hated the UN. Probably a bitter military fuck."
The man watched Kensuke expend his anger, smiling patiently.
"Someone from the military, yes. Bitter? In a way, I suppose… but have you ever wondered why the official reports were all delayed? Why the UN swooped in directly afterward, cementing their power? Why even today, it is a taboo subject?"
"Please," Kensuke said, "enlighten me."
"An N2 mine, even several, could not match the destructive force that decimated Tokyo-2. Also, the UN was the only organization at that point in time to have access to that particular weapon. And why hasn't Tokyo-2 been rebuilt as a civilian city? Certainly, its location marks it as a natural candidate. But it sits, to this day, under UN military lock and key. Have you not thought about these points before this?"
Kensuke tilted his glass forward, sucking out a mouthful. He closed his eyes and swallowed.
The man watched him for a moment, then moved on.
"What do you know about the mass produced series?" he asked.
"That Asuka kicked the living shit out of them, why?"
"Well, that is the popular theory, isn't it?" The man stopped the take a sip of his drink. It was dark brown. "The mass produced series was never intended to go into battle. It was not their primary function."
"Not their primary function?" Kensuke said. "Building nine Evas that can't fight seems a little wasteful. And idiotic."
"It all depends on definitions. Everything depends on definitions. Everything in the world. Take, for instance, this bar." He gestured to the room they were in. "Some see this as a den of sin. Some see it as a place to meet potential mates. Some see it as a place to escape reality. Everyone holds a unique view regarding this establishment. They are all equally of value, but in the end, none of them matter."
"Because?"
"Because, only the one who built it realizes its true function. When you create something, it is fresh, virginal, pure. A clean slate. But when you complete it, filled with your hopes and aspirations, it must enter the real world. And when it does, other people begin adding purposes to it, or taking purpose from it. And eventually, the original creator dies, and his true purpose is forgotten."
"So what? You're saying Ikari Yui's true intent for the Evas wasn't to fight?"
"In a matter of speaking."
"You may be paying for the drinks," Kensuke said, "but you're really wearing your welcome out. Get to the point."
"The Evangelion series, as you and I know them, were never in their true form. Their reason for existing, if you will. They were carefully locked away, and the locks were guarded fiercely by those who did not understand their nature. In a way, there were so many Units because the creators were perfecting the formula. From prototype, to test type, to production type. And the mass produced series was the culmination of their wisdom and hope. With each completed model they were getting closer and closer to their ideal.
"And even with the astronomical cost and resources needed to create an Evangelion, those in power authorized unit after unit, heedless of all other concerns. Like nothing else mattered. Doesn't that strike you oddly? That even with foreknowledge of the Angels, so much was expended for such a localized problem?"
"The point?" Kensuke said again.
"Why make nine, when you could make ten just as easily?" The man watched his companion's eyes grow wide. "Or eleven, or twelve, or thirteen? Who's to say how many are still out there. Even I don't know for sure. Regrettably, record keeping isn't what it used to be, and—"
"You're saying there are more Evangelion units?"
"Don't act so surprised," the man said with breezy confidence. He almost sounded amused. "Do you think the people responsible for the mass produced series would send their full hand to NERV during the attack? Isn't that a bit… shortsighted? What if their plan failed? What if their precious units were destroyed, or lost? What then?"
He laughed. It sounded alien and foreign from his lips.
"Of course they had a contingency plan," the man went on. "Of course they did. But what with all the confusion and chaos of the returns and the reconstruction, well… things have a way of losing themselves. But they also have a way of being found."
"You're telling me," Kensuke said in a stabbing whisper, "that an Evangelion unit caused the destruction of Tokyo-2?"
"You catch on fast. Good. It makes me glad I decided to contact you." The man drained his glass and slid it away from him. "You see, my employer is a very shy individual. And has a little problem
concerning dirt on his hands. Despite what you might think, power and money don't always get the stains out. And I was wondering, what with your natural curiosity and connections, if you'd be terribly averse to doing me a favor."
"Cut to the chase," Kensuke said. His eyes flickered around the bar, searching for anything out of place. Like a few armed service men with laser sights trained on his head. "You didn't call me out here to have a friendly chat. You want something big, and you're making sure I will have to comply, right?"
"Whatever do you mean, Aida-san?"
"You're telling me things that no one is supposed to know. Things that could get me killed. You're ensuring my cooperation."
The man smiled innocently.
"I am simply trying to give you what you want," he said, "more than anything else in this world."
"And what's that?" Kensuke bit out.
"The location of your friend."
Aida felt a solitary bead of sweat trek down the side of his face. He removed his glasses, polished them on his shirt tail, and replaced them. He took a breath.
"What?" he asked.
"Your friend," the man said easily. "The son of the man and woman. The boy who never learned the word no. I was wondering… would you like to meet him again?"
More than anything.
"You're telling me… you know where Ikari Shinji is?"
"Not at the moment, no." The man's face smiled softly, a twisting of muscles to distort his mouth. "But I can lead you to the path. What you decide to do once you step on it is up to you. But in return I must ask a favor."
"Anything," Kensuke blurted out.
"Now," the man said, still smiling softly, "now, we can speak."
Kensuke returned to his tiny home. He lived in a low rent apartment building deep within the Kyoto industrial district. He worked as a computer stress test programmer at a fabrication plant that produced frames for buildings. In the wake of Third Impact reconstruction was a booming business in Japan. The only real business to make a living nowadays. And as a young, knowledgeable computer geek, Kensuke had found work almost immediately after his return. The need for his skills was so great, his lack of a college degree never hindered him. The world couldn't be concerned with a piece of paper, not when humanity needed rebuilding.
In fact, most of the people he worked with were either old vets of the industry, or young men like himself. Across the country businesses were run similarly. Skill preempted formal training. If you could do a job, regardless of background, you did it. Man's need to survive trumped all other concerns.
It was late when he arrived home; the sky was pitch dark, the halo obscured by impenetrable clouds. Kensuke took a moment at his door to gaze up into the heavens, eyes vainly searching. The halo was always a kind of puzzle to him. It conjured thoughts of immense battles, of gods piercing each other with giant swords, divine blood sprayed across space.
Of course, he knew better than to fantasize about such things. He knew the truth, or the closest version of it he would ever obtain. He knew enough to satisfy his contacts, his fellows, but never himself. He lived his life in crushing inferiority. There was more, there had to be, but the people he considered his peers were content to spout statistics and clichés. Kensuke wanted more.
He opened his front door and carefully stepped inside. His apartment was dirty. There was no way around it. It was small, and he had long ago dissolved any realistic attempts at sanitizing it properly. He accepted it, made peace with it. On the few occasions he did have someone over, it was to talk, or to fuck. Kensuke realized he preferred talking.
It allowed him to shatter the lies the world had been crushed under. The truth may not lay with him, but his words were less of a lie. Less of an affront to those who lived through the time of Angels and hell on earth. He saw it as his duty to teach, to disseminate the actual happenings of the Evangelions and the pilots and NERV and the world they existed in. It was not an easy task. Superstition, fear, worship, confusion… they made his life difficult. But a hard life was something he was resigned to. Had been for years. Ever since he returned. Sometimes, late at night, alone, he wondered why he ever made the choice for life. For individuality. For an AT-Field.
Did I make the same choice he did?
Kensuke walked into his bedroom, not bothering to turn on the light. He traversed in the dark over cds, books, clothes, dishes, newspapers, electronic equipment. He walked to a small closet next to his bed, and opened it.
Within was a low shelf laying on the floor, its edges smoothed and painted white. It was wide, about the size of a large shoe box. All around it, plastering the walls in overlapping display from floor to ceiling were relics, mementos, reminders. Hundreds and hundreds of pictures of a blue eyed boy, small and slender, with dark brown hair falling over his forehead. In most he wore a school uniform. In others he wore a gym suit, formal attire, casual clothes. In one he wore swim trunks, and sat near the fence that enclosed a pool. In one he wore a plug suit, white and blue, like a second skin.
Stacked all around the shelf were data disks, all labeled by date. Kensuke rifled through them absently. He pulled one out with a faded cover slip, well worn and well handled. It had taken him years to track down the contents of the house he had moved into after the Sixteenth, and his library of recordings from his teen years in Tokyo-3. Years, and enough money to finance a respectable recreation. But they were his again, and nothing would change that.
Lying on the shelf rested an old video recorder, nicked and scratched with heavy use. It wasn't the same device that had accompanied him for most of his youth; that was lost long ago during the chaos of the Impact. This was newer, more compact and sharper. His one vice.
He slipped the disk into it with practiced ease. He pulled out the side display. Static crackled over the screen for a few moments, then an exterior shot of the Tokyo-3 junior high school, seen through his distinctive wobble as he held the camera, a lifetime ago.
"And we now join our heroes," Kensuke's teenage voice intoned, "at the start of another day. What excitement does fate hold for the mighty pilots of the Evangelions? Another battle? Lengthy and mysterious tests? Or simply a mundane, ordinary stretch of boredom we call school? Let's find out."
The picture derezzed, then came back, later in the morning. The shot displayed an interior view of a classroom, students talking amongst themselves before the sensei began the morning's lesson. The camera panned over the entire class in silence, then focused on the solitary figure of Ayanami Rei, sitting at her desk, staring out the window.
"Ayanami," Kensuke intoned, "is the First Children, selected to pilot Unit-00, the prototype. She is calm and detached, and is often mysteriously absent from school for days at a time. Perhaps it is because of her albinism, or perhaps it is a darker secret that NERV has covered up. We may never know. But maybe today she'd be willing to grace us with an interview."
The camera stayed still for a long moment, focused on Rei. She gave no sign she heard him, or cared. The camera stared at her.
"… maybe tomorrow," Kensuke said. He moved on, directing the recorder past Touji, who was face down on his desk, asleep. It zoomed in on a tall girl with long red hair, in the center of a flock of female students. She talked animatedly, using hand gestures and overt facial expressions.
"Soryu Asuka Langley. The Second Children. Pilot of Evangelion Unit-02, the first production model. Confident, brash, assertive and beautiful, she is currently the top ranked pilot NERV has."
There was a pause.
"Um, rewind later and take out the beautiful part."
Teenage Kensuke cleared his throat.
"She is currently the top ranked pilot NERV has. Hailing from Germany, Asuka has adapted admirably to Japanese culture and life. She speaks the language fluently, and is rumored to be a genius. Despite this, she is not above childish arguments and physical altercations. Also, her grades are not as impressive as one might expect from a college grad. She currently resides with her commanding officer, major Katsuragi Misato."
Another pause, though the camera still focused on Asuka.
"Maybe break and insert footage of Katsuragi-san, maybe add some playful music. Saxophone or something."
Another pause. The camera wobbled, as Kensuke walked towards Asuka. When she saw him coming, her face held a dark smile, solely for the benefit of the uninformed masses around her.
"Asuka! Asuka!" he called out. "Could you spare a moment of your busy schedule to talk to the press?"
"Buzz off, Aida," she said through her teeth. The girls flanking her giggled.
"No, no. Really. I was hoping you'd be willing to speak to us about the attack yesterday. All three Eva units were utilized again, right?"
"None of your business."
"But is it true there was an upper atmosphere detonation of an N2 mine? Possibly in space?"
"… I don't even want to know how you know that." Asuka made a dismissive gesture. "Yeah, there was an attack yesterday, genius. We don't evacuate you guys to the shelters for shits and giggles."
The girls around her blushed at her sharp foreign tongue.
"Yeah, we were victorious, but it was no big deal," she continued. "Why are you torturing me with your inane questions? That's what Shinji's for. Or go pester little miss honor student."
"But I'm asking you. By the way," Kensuke cut in smoothly, "I heard the deciding factor in yesterday's sortie was Unit-01."
Asuka stiffened.
"And that Shinji performed under extreme—"
"I'm the one who killed it!" the redhead shouted. "I was the one who plunged the knife into it! Not the First, not stupid Shinji! Me!" She held the corners of the camera, making it focus solely on her. "Hear that, stooge? There's your damn report." She pushed him away.
"Well," Kensuke's voice said from behind the lens, "it would seem Ms. Soryu has provided only one side of the argument. Shall we ask another, independent source?"
The camera spun, focusing again on Rei. She still stared out the window.
"… um, perhaps a bystander's view? From the protectors to the protected." The camera turned to Touji, still face down on his desk. "Suzahara-kun. A few words about the impact of living through one of, if not the most, important times in human history? Well?"
"Shaddup." The jock raised his head enough to slide one arm out, and leisurely flipped his friend the bird. He then replaced it under his face.
"The press is never appreciated by the uniformed masses." Kenuske rotated to the opened door of the classroom, including the clock above the frame, ticking off the minutes. "It appears we will have to wait for the last interview viable Children, who if he isn't here in two minutes, will have to hold buckets. Again."
A minute passed. Shinji came running into the class, panting hard. He doubled over, his hands on his knees. He stayed like that until Kensuke maneuvered next to him.
"Late again?"
"Just… overslept… a little," Shinji managed. He stood up, holding a thin hand over his heart. "Jeez. I just…" He glanced at the camera, and got a touch flustered. "Um, Asuka just forgot to wake me up this morning. I—"
"What did you do?"
"He knows what he did!" Asuka shouted out of frame. "Pervert!"
"Now you have to tell me what you did."
Shinji blushed.
"N-nothing! I swear, nothing! It was just a misunderstanding!" He glanced at Rei and bit his lip. Off screen, Asuka threw something. A book collided with Shinji's left temple. "Ow!"
"Stupid!"
"Ah," Kensuke said, in his deepest voice, "youthful love amongst the dedicated pilots of the Eva program. Is it any wonder we—"
Something sizable struck the camera, and fell to the floor. It focused intently on a desk leg, then went black.
After a moment the picture cleared, and a broad sweeping shot of the school was shown, from the roof looking down. The sun was high above, casting everything in the smallest shadows possible. Like black halos at their feet.
"So really," Touji was saying. The camera panned right, showing Shinji and Touji eating lunch, their backs against the rails of the roof. Shinji was cowering, hunching his shoulders and closing his legs. Touji still looked sleepy eyed. "What happened? Red was unusually cheerful this morning."
"I just… it's nothing. Really."
The camera zoomed in on the pilot.
"Aida Kensuke, embattled photojournalist, would like to know." He paused for effect. "Where exactly did you get that fresh bruise on your cheek?" He zoomed in and out several times as he awaited a reply. "Well? You're not getting out of it this time, Shinji."
The boy sighed. The kind of sigh an old man made.
"… Asuka," he admitted. He gently touched the swollen side of his face. "She… really, it's nothing and—"
"Just say it," Touji grumbled tiredly.
"Well… I mean, I think she just overreacted. I mean… just… okay. Okay. Don't… don't make a big deal out of it, because it isn't, alright? Last night, I had this… weird dream."
The camera zoomed closer.
"Everybody's had them," Touji said through a yawn. "It's called being a guy."
"No," Shinji said, coloring. "No, I mean, I don't think it was… that kind of a dream. It… during the battle yesterday… I mean, I had to catch the whole Angel by myself, and it hurt, a lot… and in the heat of battle, I think I… I think I yelled at Ayanami. I mean, there was a lot of noise, and I just wasn't thinking. I just…"
He made a futile gesture and frowned.
"So… I was kind of thinking about it the rest of the day. Even when my…" He drifted off. "Even when we went out to eat, I just couldn't…"
"What's the big deal?" Touji asked, his lack of rest cutting his tolerance for his friend's faults to the quick. "She didn't say nothing to you, did she?"
"Well, no, no, but… I mean, she never says anything. Even when Asuka gives her a hard time. I doubt she'd say when something bothered her. I don't think she likes attention." Shinji swallowed hard. "I tried to apologize after dinner, but… but I just watched her. I couldn't…"
"And when does the bruised cheek come into this?"
"Sorry. I'm getting to it. So after we went home, I was still thinking about it. I guess… I must have still been thinking about it when I went to sleep. I… I dreamed about her."
Touji grunted off screen.
"Not… not like, anything weird," Shinji said. "We were… we were in a train, at twilight. It was… kind of peaceful. We were just kind of sitting there, across from each other. I think we were talking, but I can't remember what we said. I felt… I don't really know. Peaceful and tranquil. Like everything but contentment was absolved. I could have stayed there for years.
"And then… I don't know. Something happened. The train melted away, and Rei was… not wearing any clothes. I tried to look away, but everywhere I turned she was there. Like there were hundreds of Reis.
"And I guess I must have said her name out loud or something, because the next thing I know it's like midnight and Asuka's waking me up and hitting me. She must have… thought…"
"That you were strangling lil Shinji?"
Shinji blushed brilliantly.
"Kensuke!"
Kensuke stopped the tape. He froze it on the image of his friend, red as a tomato, looking away in embarrassment. Kensuke rewound the footage, and pressed the A-B button. He waited until Shinji said his name. He pushed the button again, creating a playback loop. In the dark closet, hunched over his video camcorder, Aida Kenuske unzipped his pants and pulled out his erection.
"Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!..."
He was crouched on his knees, one hand tilting the camera display up for his eyes, the other pistoning over his crotch. His lips curled back to show teeth, gritted and hard. He panted through his nose.
"Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!...Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!..."
With a final grunt he ejaculated into his palm, feeling his fingers grow slick and oily and warm. It only took him three minutes to finish. He frowned. He usually lasted longer, but the thought, the image of Shinji lying on his bed, in the dark, pleasuring himself was too strong to deny.
He sat back, watching idly as he sagged and deflated, right over the image of Shinji, turning away and blushing. Over and over. Again and again. Looped until the end of God. He waited and watched.
"Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!..."
At length his hand grew cold and sticky, the fingers fixed together like Vaseline taffy. He decided on a shower.
"Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Kensuke!... Ken—"
The meeting was held at minimum twice a week. If new information or a fresh view of an old debate was discovered, the gatherings were collected by the usual underground correspondence. It gave the appearance and feel of a secret society, a clandestine assembly of like minded individuals, searching for the truth about the world.
Kensuke knew better. The group was comprised of fearful, stupid, ignorant fucks. They would watch footage of the Evas, look at pictures of the pilots, and mentally masturbate over them like it was all from an anime. There was a strange disconnect regarding people and the Angel attacks nowadays. It was treated almost as a myth, or an event occurring several millennia ago. If the masses openly accepted it, embraced it, they feared it could all happen again.
Third Impact was no doubt a large part of the terror. The end of the world. People spoke of it often, in movies, books, environmental concerns, religious fanatics… but the reality, of wiping out the entire species that ruled the planet… it was unthinkable. To cause something of that magnitude… the power of God had to be involved. God was pissed that his children had been slain, or that NERV was attacked, or that the world was going to hell.
So, the people thought, fuck God. Fuck his rules, his insane logic, his mysterious plans, his commands, his morals, his ethics, his way. Fuck him, and fuck the horse he came in on. Burn the Bible. Wipe your ass on the Koran. Jizz all over the Torah. Do anything to make sure God can't reach mankind ever again.
Bomb churches. Drive your car through a temple. Do something. Kill. Maim. Rape. Pillage. Rob. Hate. Fear. Love. Worship. Worship the abominations God hates. Worship at the altar of man and earth. Away from heaven, from hell, from righteous salvation and damnation. Forget God, forget the devil too. Because proof of one is proof of the other. Worship anything as far and remote from those bastards as you can.
Worship the Evangelion.
The damned and the damning. The closest thing to God, who stood on equal footing with the lord, and spit in his face. Who ascended to heaven, just to say "no." Who took the whole world along with them for the ride. It was a popular misconception of the petrified masses, that the cults believed the Evas were messengers of God. No. They were God's delivery boys who broke into his house and robbed him into poverty. They denounced God and his cruelty, his authority, his vicious indifference to suffering and pain. A parent who abandons his children is of no use to the offspring.
But people need something to believe in. It is ingrained within them. Hardwired in. They crave it. Because with nothing to believe in but themselves, people realize how empty and hopeless and disgusting they really are. They lose whatever spark motivates the devout, and fall into disrepair. Man is an imperfect machine. Weak, frail, fallible. No one is exempt. Humans lust for a commanding hand, an invisible conductor to direct and order. Because alone men were broken.
Reflecting on all of it, Kensuke had come to an inescapable conclusion: people were fucking morons.
Kensuke didn't worship the Evangelions. He wasn't stupid. He knew they weren't messengers of God or anything like that. They were a failed attempt to reach out and anal rape God until he decided to fork over the keys to creation. That was how he liked to think about it.
He didn't pray to the divine cult of Ayanami, or humble himself at the Ikari confessional, or jerk off over the earth Goddess Asuka. None of that appealed to him. He merely kept his association with those who did to satisfy his own sense of right and wrong. People needed to know the truth. After all the unimaginable tragedy and pain mankind had suffered through, they deserved, at the very least, to know why it happened.
Kensuke saw himself as a reluctant preacher, traveling the lands with the true Word, the truth that desperately desired dissemination. Of course, prophets were never appreciated in their own time. He only hoped his words would outlive him, and that someday, somehow, humanity would see the Eva program and NERV for what they truly were.
They weren't Gods, or devils, or anything walking the divine path. They were a sad group of human beings, fears, desires, hatreds, yearnings and wants intact. The epitome of humanity. Miserable and disgusting, but worthy of empathy. Tragically human.
Kensuke glanced around the room he was in. It was a low ceiling basement of an apartment building, filled to capacity with old boxes, broken furniture and aimless people. The cult, as it was called, was mostly an amalgamation of losers and fanatics, people with severe social problems looking for something, anything to believe in. There were a few, like Kensuke, who had actual skills and intelligence, but they were so far and few between that only those who tried to look for them found them. Kensuke was fairly adept at this point in spotting the useful members amongst the dregs. And they were all fairly adept at appreciating his importance and significance.
He was a kind of celebrity among them, having actually lived with the pilots, and been on speaking terms with them. There were a few other people who had attended the school in Tokyo-3, but he was head and shoulders above them. He knew the pilots, he knew the truth.
And he had abused his authority on occasion, usually to dispel baseless rumors, or to get a quick fuck. But that made him human. Almost as human as the people his friends worshipped. It only bothered him in his weakest of moments.
Because the good he did far outweighed the bad. He circulated the truths he saw and lived through, colored only by the passage of time and his own unchangeable scrutiny.
And they all either hated him or loved him for it. He wasn't prone to fancy, or exaggeration, or foolish imagination. His truth was not particularly spectacular, or bright, or flashy. He gave them what he had long ago come to realize. That the pilots weren't super heroes, or invincible gods. He told others about them, as they truly were, faults and failings unscathed.
Regardless of that, every one of them respected him. Begrudgingly most of the time, but it was there. Because he knew the pilots, the people they worshipped. He was there, living with them, speaking with them, existing with them. He was there.
Kensuke spotted a young woman in a corner, hotly debating something with a group of men, all wearing the telltale eyes of obsession. Kaede, another of the cultists, had an encyclopedic knowledge of the battles against the Angels, and was a fierce proponent of the Third Children, often boasting he was the best of all the pilots. She cited stats to back her claim up, declaring his untrained status as a rookie made him greater than Asuka or Rei, who had years to prepare for battle.
She could tell you in depth about any given conflict, down to time, date and armaments employed. She delighted in technical detail, and would often start debates over NERV's secret technology, wondering about the Eva's construction and the inner workings of the MAGI. She and Kensuke had hit it off immediately.
Kaede was a slim girl of twenty, with boyishly short black hair and a sharp tongue. When she spoke it was with authority, and oftentimes venom, directed towards the uninformed, and anyone who dared disagree with her. She was cute, if you could get past the temper and her fury at idiocy. Then she was sweet, and surprisingly intelligent.
Kensuke idly wondered if she'd want to fuck tonight.
Whenever they slept together, it was with the unspoken but firmly understood reality that they both fantasized the other was Ikari Shinji. More and more, Kenuske found it was the only way he could finish nowadays. When he was a teenager, the slightest whisper of sex was enough to cover his stomach in sticky goop. But recently he felt like he was running on a graduated release program. Every time he climaxed the counter ticked away, and the next time was all the harder unless he thought of his old friend.
He didn't harbor any illusions. He wasn't gay; women aroused him, not men. And yet, something about Shinji, his look, or his mannerisms, or his voice… it was something Kensuke couldn't put his finger on. It was almost primal, instinctive. All he knew was that it worked. Even if it was only for a few minutes at a time, feeling a little pleasure wasn't something he was going to beat himself up over, no matter the form.
He didn't even complain when Kaede role played. Sometimes she was a bit too eager to pretend. Even when it got too weird for Kensuke, like the time she wore her homemade plug suit, or when she told him to call her Asuka, he bent to her whims. Not because he loved her: that idea made him laugh. It was because she would eagerly listen for hours on end about the life he had led, watching the pilots perform insane stunts and impossibly heroic actions, or mundane everyday activities. She always looked like a child when he spoke to her, eyes wide with wonder and awe. That was why he liked her, why he fulfilled her every wish. Her ears may unfortunately be attached to the rest of her body, but he accepted it.
Kensuke finally caught Kaede's eyes, and she angrily gestured for him to come over. The men around her all groaned.
Adjusting his glasses carefully, he walked to the group, falling into the seductive familiarity of his comparative all-encompassing knowledge. He stood close to Kaede, and glanced over the circle of men.
They were all overweight, sweating in the hot basement, shaking their heads and muttering obscenities. All were openly hostile towards the slim girl before them.
"What seems to be the problem?" Kensuke asked.
"These jackasses keep saying Rei and Asuka 'softened up' Zeruel, and that was the only way Shinji beat it. What a load of shit. They got their asses handed to them, and yet again Shinji had to bail them out. That's what happened. Tell them, Kensuke."
He stifled the urge to laugh. Same old Kaede. Same old Kaede.
"Actually, I don't have any footage from that battle," Kensuke said. "so nearly any hypothesis is valid."
The men smirked. Kaede looked like she had just been stabbed.
"But," he went on, "if I had to make a guess, I'd say Shinji would have won, with or without Asuka and Rei's help. I have trouble recalling any foe he went up against that could withstand his fury."
"But that's my point!" one of the men blurted. He was large, balding, sitting on an empty crate. "I mean, well, seeing his friends get mutilated right in front of him had to have kicked his rage into gear, right? It had to have happened that way."
"… maybe," Kaede relented. "But that only proves my original point. That the girls were useless without Shinji. If he wasn't there to clean up after them they would have been killed every time. I mean, truthfully, was he or was he not the deciding factor in every sortie against the Angels? Well? Guys?"
The men fell to muttering, their eyes darting everywhere but Kaede. She seemed to realize the debate was over, and turned away shrugging in gracious victory: she was well acquainted with winning, and learned to take it in stride. That way it made a repeat performance easier to swallow for the group at large.
"You're on notice, mister," Kaede said, poking Kensuke in the ribs as they walked away. "How could you resist the chance to swoop in and save me like a hero?"
"Save you? It looked more like those guys needed my help from where I was standing."
"I was just having a little fun. Is that a crime? No, I didn't think so. Besides, those dicks needed to hear the truth for once. I am sick and tired of all the horny losers around here that ignore the facts of Shinji's strength and ability just because he isn't an exotic foreigner or an albino. Like Asuka and Rei were so hot anyways. Guys are such simple bastards."
"I'm not debating that." He nodded towards the front of the basement, where a man was setting up a projector. "They're about to start the movie up. Have any interest in watching?"
"What are they showing? The bootleg Ramiel footage? I've seen that a million times. And I don't want to be dragged into yet another debate over anti-gravity drill bits. I've made peace with the fact that there will be certain aspects of the war I'll never be satisfied with. Ramiel's workings is one of them. I don't know how it worked, merely that it did."
The lights in the basement dimmed by degrees, until it adopted the look of a movie theater. Soon the front screen was flashing color and sound. Kensuke leaned down to whisper in Kaede's right ear.
"I met with an informant Tuesday night," he began.
"Can you trust the source? I don't want another fiasco like that douche bag who said he had Asuka's neural connectors in his attic because I can tell you right now—"
"I can trust him. Well, I mean I can trust he's telling me the truth. As to his character…" He shook his hand slightly. "But what you should really be asking me is, what did he tell you?"
"… well?" Kaede prompted when he fell silent. "What? Tell me!"
"Sorry. It isn't everyday I have the chance to tell someone I know where Ikari Shinji is."
"What did you say?"
"Keep it down," Kensuke whispered harshly. His hands waved off a number of curious onlookers, and he quickly ushered Kaede to the back of the basement, where a few scattered groups were quietly discussing topics unrelated to the film.
"You have got to be fucking shitting me. There is no fucking way—"
"You asked me if I could trust the informant. I do." He glanced over his shoulder. Everyone else was still watching the screen. "Well, I trust the info he gave me. I wouldn't trust him farther than I could throw him. But he knew stuff. I mean, stuff no one should know. And he gave me the name and address of the doctor who's seeing Shinji right now."
"The doctor?" Kaede was practically hopping in place she was so excited.
"A kid named Kirishima." Kensuke stopped to wipe perspiration from his upper lip. "She interviewed me a month or two ago, remember? I told you about her. Well, she's still on the case, but it's getting down to the wire. They have Shinji on a very tight schedule, and they change doctors and safe houses pretty often. He's up to be moved to a new doctor in the next week, meaning—"
"It's now or never." Her hands were shaking. "This is unbelievable. This is absolutely unbelievable. I can't believe it."
"Believe it. He gave me Kirishima's home and schedule, so it's just a matter of tailing her and getting a good opportunity."
"Well," Kaede said, "that explains how we find him. How do we get him out? Feeling some of your old military whiz kid proficiency coming back?"
Kensuke shrugged.
"What good is a cult if we can't partake in some apocalyptic behavior?" he asked. "We obviously can't tell everyone here. That would be bedlam. Actually, I've already put the team together, I just have to tell them."
"You mean…" Kaede licked her lips hastily. "You mean you told me first?" she asked in a very small voice.
"Well… yeah, I guess I did. I—"
She jumped to her tiptoes and kissed him hard. It was a kiss devoid of the usual sexual undertone he associated with her embraces. This was pure, uninhibited gratitude.
And as quickly as it began, it ended. She pulled away, her eyes shining.
"I can't believe this," she whispered excitedly.
"Believe it."
Kensuke bit off the rest of the words that were threatening to spill from his lips. That he honestly considered this to be the reason he returned. To do what they were about to do. To set him free.
He would risk his life, just for the chance to attempt this. To see him again. To see him liberated. Because Shinji, out of everyone at NERV, didn't deserve imprisonment and disgrace. He fought even when it hurt him, killed him, and without the training or preparation the other pilots had. Without the vendetta the commanders harbored, without the blind obedience to authority the staff was home to. He was a normal boy, beaten and trampled under the weight of adult vengeance and grudges until his innocence was torn away like a cheap veil. And still he fought. Despite his own pain, and all the injustices inflicted against him, he still fought.
Kenuske might not have the power to set everything right, or wash away the sins of yesterday, or even solve the problems facing them today.
But he had within his grasp the chance to free the one man in this entire broken world who deserved to be free. The man who fought and died, and fought again for his sake, for Kaede's sake, for the sake of every other meaningless human being on the planet. They weren't worthy to be in his presence, breathe the same air, live the same life, but if Kensuke could build a bridge with his broken body for Shinji to cross and be liberated from pain and loneliness, he would, without hesitation.
This was his mission, his charge. His primary function. To see him again, to fulfill the dream he had carried with him for nearly a decade. Destiny, fate, whatever name he gave it, it remained immutably the same. Purpose. The reason he climbed out of bed in the morning, the reason he kept up correspondence with these people, the reason he was who he was today. It was all for Shinji, because of Shinji, by Shinji. And he would do anything he could to repay the favor. He saved Kensuke, and soon he'd be able to say the same. He was going to save Ikari Shinji.
"See you soon, Shinji-kun."
End of interlude
Author note: next chapter should be up in a week or so. But don't hold me to it. And I still like how obsessed Kensuke is. And sorry. He just kept saying fuck. Granted, I love that word, but I didn't plan on Ken using it so often. Sorry. And I'll try real hard to explain all the inconsistencies and plot holes by the end of this fic. So, by chapter 10 or 11. I'm planning on an epilogue, too, so don't crucify me until everything is out, okay? Thanks.