She hates the damn Kanji.
She still can't understand how, for a country as advanced as Japan they still use pictures and sticks and ink blots to write.
Worst, she can't understand how something that sounds like a baby mumbling around a pacifier can bee so alien to the eyes (moonspeak indeed) Or how they are supposed to remember all those symbols. Why are Japanese so strange? A technologically advanced and perverted country (where else can you find a canned coffee vending machine next to a soda vending machine next to a beer vending machine, next to a girl's panties wearing machine?) where doors and locks are unheard of (and you sit and eat and sleep on the floor) but who pay so much respect to taking a bath (sitting in a stool? What the hell is this?) and in calligraphy (so what if her Kanji is sketchy and messy?)?
But as she sits next to Shinji, and as he carefully glides her hand with his own, teaching the correct procedure to writing, she can't help but think.
Maybe it's not that bad.
----- -----
She loves the long corridors of Nerv.
Well, not really, they are bland and blank and devoid of personality and boring.
But it all depends on whose by your side while you're navigating thru them.
Walking next to Misato, listening to her explanation of tactics and procedures and those embarrassing stories of her youth in the Germany Academy.
Walking next to Kaji, her arm tightly bound around his arm; enjoying the looks of jealousy (It's disapproval, Sohryu. Shut up, doll!), his conversations, the way he would casually stroll and talk and how he would stop meters before arriving to Katsuragi's door.
But the best of all are the walks held with Shinji; on the good days she would talk and he would listen; she would gloat and he would stay quiet.
On the bad days she would limp, or stop by the walls and lean on them and let the tears fall freely and he would support her, put his arm around her waist, or simply hold her, never uttering a word.
And on the best days he would walk next to her, flustered and embarrassed and blushing, as her hand will hold his, and her fingers will gently intertwine with his.