At around the same time that Shinji, Asuka, and Kaworu were boarding the train for school, the Vice Commander of NERV Kouzou Fuyutsuki was disembarking from an airplane at Narita-Nakamatsu* airport after a long, tedious, and rather rebarbative flight back from the United Nations General Assembly in New York City, United States. There he had spent the last week giving edifyingly didactic presentations to dozens of prominent members of the U.N. General Assembly and the Security Council as well as other socio-political luminaries from the International Court of Justice and the Economic and Social Council. Also in attendance were financial giants from World Bank as well as other key personnel from UNESCO. His objectives, as they were, were threefold: secure further funding for NERV's ever-broadening array of projects, assure the rest of the world that the disaster that had occurred with the EVA pilots was under control and would never be repeated, and to quell the mounting fears that the activities being carried out by GEHIRN's successor organization warranted a far greater degree of oversight—technologically, militarily and morally. In this regard, the senior Ikari had turned the former professor into a glorified fundraiser and press secretary, neither charge which Fuyutsuki particularly enjoyed.

In truth, the Vice Commander was a solitary man who, despite the elevated position he occupied, was loath to dealing with people in any prolonged social context. For the most part, Fuyutsuki had always viewed human beings the same way that Gendo Ikari viewed the early prototypes of the Evangelions—unworthy failures that could never achieve their full potential. He had become a professor largely for the expressed purpose of desperately trying to open and expand the minds of the young and zealous, those who, given the right push in the right direction, might one day go on to help save humanity from its own destruction. Whereas Gendo believed the succession of the human race lay in the supernatural, Kouzou had once reasoned that when all was said and done, a machine without a soul of its own could never guide the human race through its current chapter of technological and social adolescence. The hope rested in the hearts and minds of men and women who would either find destruction through isolation or rebirth through solidarity.

As the professor solemnly stood before the baggage claim belt watching dozens of suitcases and parcels go round and round the circuit, he recalled a conversation he'd had with the senior Ikari at the South Pole site in which he had commented that he would "prefer a world in which people live and thrive, no matter how stained or perverted by sin." Now, he wasn't so sure of this claim. In the past few months, he had stood idly by whilst the most instrumental project of his career, once founded upon noble ideals and the hope for a better future, become engulfed by suspicion, greed, madness and death. Though Gendo's plots and schemes appeared to grow increasingly psychotic and deranged with each passing day, perhaps beneath it all there was an absolute truth to be gleaned—that in its current incarnation, humanity could not be saved. Humanity was doomed to destroy itself, over and over again, until the conclusion of the system. Maybe the religions of the West were right and humankind was born in a cradle of sin, their deeds and misdeeds not etched after-the-fact onto the clean slate the cognitive sciences claimed existed at the genesis of new life. There were indeed moments, entire days even, when Fuyutsuki nearly forsook all hope and reason for the madness and scurrilous machinations that drove Gendo, a man he'd once called friend, to the ends of the earth in a desperate and often violent quest to instigate the instrumentality of humankind, bringing about the Third Impact, reunited him with his lost love, Yui Ikari, and finally freeing himself from the pain that only Fuyutsuki seemed to notice was eating him alive.

Yui Ikari.

Fourteen years, several continents and regime changes later, she was still there. In his mind. In his thoughts. In his heart. She was the beacon of hope, the sole ray of light amidst a dark and stormy sea of wretched creatures that were mere shadows, shadows of shadows even, but hardly human. She was the only "angel" Fuyutsuki believed he had ever had the exquisite-yet-ephemeral pleasure of knowing. His affection for both the acuity of her mind and the purity of her heart was a layer cake of conflicted emotions that he'd never quite worked out himself, but one thing was for sure—whenever the professor had been in her company, she'd made him want to be a better man. The best of men. She had awakened in him a sense of responsibility for the continuance of the species, for he truly was in a privileged position not only to oversee but to shepherd the course of human evolution through its darkest hour. Following her demise, Yui Ikari synchronously became both the Vice Commander's greatest inspiration and his greatest torment. For that very reason it was, particularly as the boy continued to mature, unfathomably difficult to look upon Gendo's son Shinji without seeing her in his countenance, a persistent reminder that he had failed in his promise to the woman whose affection he had secretly coveted. And now, in the most bizarre twist of the cruelest of Fates, that reminder had been debauched and twisted to the point where Fuyutsuki had begun to question virtually everything, even what was real and what wasn't. The only thing he was certain of is that were Yui Ikari still alive today, the vision of the world Gendo Ikari was pursuing was a vision to which she would certainly never have subscribed.

Fuyutsuki balled his fingers into a tight fist and cursed loudly, rousing himself from the mire of his introspective misery. He straightened sharply, regaining his usual academic posture and refinement, glancing about him sheepishly expecting to find a crowd of onlookers staring him down with confused expressions. Instead, he found the baggage claim to be empty, the conveyor belt stopped, a solitary briefcase resting upon it just a few meters from where he stood.

"No matter the cost…" he whispered quietly to himself.

As Misato careened around the perilous and serpentine roads which snaked along the periphery of Tokyo-3 in her white Mazda Cosmo Sport 110, she noticed that Kaji seemed unusually pensive and distant as he stared out the passenger side window of the coupe, puffing quietly on a cigarette. Considering that it was only mid-afternoon, the sky was unusually dark and ominous, casting long shadows along the forested valley from which the Geofront protruded like an ugly wart on the cheek of an otherwise pristine and natural beauty. His reticence set her ill-at-ease, and when she could finally bear the uncomfortable atmosphere no longer, she broke the silence as best she could without being completely and utterly obvious about her state of mid.

"What's with you?" she murmured at length. "I've never been in a car with you for much longer than five minutes before you tried to cop a feel."

"Hmm?" the other replied, tilting his head in the major's direction. His expression told her that while he hadn't exactly heard her question, he'd clearly been wrenched out of whatever silent reflection he'd been absorbed in.

"What're you thinking about over there?"

"Nothing," he replied. "And yet, everything."

"How cryptic," Misato snorted, masking her anxiety with sarcasm.

He roguish, NERV-appointed inspector frowned. "We live in a world of window dressings and masquerades, don't you think? The closer you try to get to something… to the truth… the further away you seem to get. You can spend an entire lifetime just peeling away the layers and never be any closer to the core than when you started." He paused, scratching his eternal five o'clock shadow. "Don't you find?"

The purple-haired woman scoffed. "We see what we want to see. That's it. Most of the time, I don't think we'd recognize the truth of anything if it were staring us right in the face. Sometimes, the lie is just more satisfying than the truth."

At that, Kaji smiled softly. Almost sadly. "You might be right, Mi-chan. Still, a satisfying lie is savagely more crippling to a person's heart than an inconvenient truth."

Misato stared hard at the senior Ikari's lapdog for a moment before returning her gaze to the road. Her cheeks reddened. "Whatever happened to us?" she whispered. "How did things get so… out of control… without either of us ever seeing what was happening until it had already happened?"

"We were young. Dumb. Full of ourselves. Impervious and immortal. Byproducts of our youth I guess."

"Speak for yourself," Katsuragi said peevishly. "I'm still young, thank you very much. I've still got it."

"Mi-chan," the NERV inspector started. "You'll be beautiful to me from now until the end of time." Her breath caught in her throat as he spoke. "Nevertheless, your spirit has aged, even if your body has not. I was a fool to think things could ever be as they were again. We're both changed, you and I. We've seen things… done things."

There was a long stretch of excruciating silence. "Did you ever love me?" she asked at length.

Kaji pulled heavily on the cigarette as if to prepare for a difficult answer. "No," he replied. "I've never been able to love in the same sense that you love. But while it lasted, I did give you everything I had."

"And you took everything!" Misato nearly shrieked. "I trusted you! I loved you! And you reciprocated by taking not only my trust and my heart, but my virginity too! What kind of person are you, Ryouji Kaji?! Tell me!"

The Mazda swerved, drifted into a skid, barely missing a crimson red Ford Econoline 350 box truck that had simultaneously rounded the sharp corner. The coupe came to a stop, Misato breathing erratically, her eyes misty as she struggled to regain her composure and deal with the tempest of emotions that whorled inside her fragile heart. Kaji on the other hand appeared visually unfazed.

"I am a person that is concerned only with truth. In a world beset on all sides by lies and deceit, it is the only noble ambition to which I am suited."

Misato throttled the steering wheel with her fists as hot tears cascaded down her cheeks.

"I hate you," she sobbed. "I hate you."

"I know."

There was faint rumbling sound as a streak of lightning arced across the sky above the Geofront. Raindrops began to fall, slowly and sporadically at first, followed by a torrent of precipitation that crashed down upon the vehicle with purpose.

"Don't worry, Mi-chan," Kaji offered. "You won't have to suffer for much longer."

"And just what does that mean?" Major Katsuragi rasped through her weeping.

"No more lies," said the other. "There are things I need to tell you. Things I need to say. Before the opportunity to do so eludes me forever."

Shinji Ikari had never been particularly fond of his physical education classes, but now that he was stuck inhabiting the body of the irascible German Asuka, he detested them with a passion. The bloomers he had been given to wear during sports practice, in his mind, were shamelessly objectifying and fetishistic, augmented by the fact that his new body was, as far as the female gender was concerned, more shapely than most of his female contemporaries. Even though he'd had several weeks of adaptation under his now-proverbial belt—adaptation which had involved such embarrassing and mortifying tests of his resolve as wearing girls clothing, applying makeup, and styling his hair, dressing in anything even remotely provocative in public was something Shinji staunchly believed he would never get used to. Especially with the shadow of Asuka's best friend, Hikari Horaki, constantly looming over him whenever the German herself could not be present.

The troubled teen drifted through volleyball practice—in which he declined to participate, opting instead to sit quietly and alone on the bleachers against the rear wall of the school gymnasium—absentmindedly. He found it impossible to stop thinking about the strange new boy, Kaworu. The physical similarities he shared with Rei were utterly baffling as was his esoteric and somewhat troubling declaration earlier, that the junior Ikari was woefully ignorant of the significance of the predicament he found himself in. Several times he fought back the urge to leave the class to go seek him out and demand further answers from the boy, but, as had been the case for the majority of the train ride, he was certain that Asuka was already hard at work playing inquisitor, grilling the new arrival for information.

"I've seen that look before," said an all-too-familiar voice. "Of course, last time it was on a different face."

Shinji looked up and found the class representative, hands on her hips, staring down at him. From his point of view, perhaps due to the fact that she was eclipsing the bright lights of the gymnasium with her body, the girl looked positively gigantic in stature. "What's wrong? Why aren't you out there with the others?" she asked.

"What's the point?" Shinji asked. "This is only temporary anyway. I'd only be practicing at something I don't even like just to give it up in a few days. Or weeks." The truth was, he still had no idea how much longer he'd remain trapped in Asuka's body, something that had begun to worry him more and more with each passing day.

"It's not healthy to isolate yourself," Hikari admonished the boy, sitting beside him. "You should try to make friends."

"I have friends."

"New friends. I would think this could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you, Shinji."

"I don't want new friends. I just want my own body back."

"Of course you do," the class rep retorted. "But you should stop moping around and feeling sorry for yourself. You're causing people to worry about you, and you're also making Asuka look bad. Haven't you thought about any of that?"

Truth be told, he hadn't. "No," Shinji replied sheepishly. "I… I've had a lot of other things on my mind. And then there's this pain that just won't quit." He pressed his fingers gently against his abdomen. Hikari's eyes followed the gesture inquisitively.

"Are you sick?"

"I… don't really know, Hikari. Everything else feels fine. I think. But I feel a little nauseous… and my stomach hurts like something's trying to punch its way out of me."

Suddenly, Hikari's back stiffened, and she went red from ear-to-ear. "Oh… um… hah… um… that…"

"Huh?" Shinji gaped at the class rep cluelessly.

"Miss Katsuragi or Asuka didn't um… educate you on the finer points of being a girl, did they?"

"To a point," Shinji admitted. "Asuka would probably forbid me from ever taking a shower in this body if she weren't so vain about her own image and Misato… well… Misato's just… Misato."

Hikari stretched back on the bleachers, sighing deeply, trying to figure out the most tactful way to explain something to the junior Ikari that she was certain he wasn't going to take very well. At all.

"You really are a hopeless case, aren't you? Ah, well, somebody's gotta do it. Might as well be the girl with two sisters and plenty of experience with girl nonsense to go around. Shinji… when girls get to a certain age… certain things start… um… happening to their bodies that… oh God this is awkward… um…"

Shinji blinked, bewildered. "Just tell me what's happening to me and how to fix it," he pleaded. "I hate this feeling."

"Hey, this isn't easy for me either!" Hikari snapped, cheeks burning profusely. "Shinji, I hate that I have to be the one to tell you this… uh… but…"

"But what?"

"Shinji… I think you're getting ready to experience your first period," the class rep blurted out.

It took a solid five seconds or so before the words penetrated Shinji's wondrously thick skull. When it finally computed, his recently pale skin flushed an uncharted shade of crimson. "Whaaaaaaat?!" he nearly screamed. "Oh God! Please tell me you're joking with me! This isn't funny!"

"Believe me," groaned Hikari. "I absolutely wish I were kidding. Gosh, I can't believe Asuka didn't even bother to go over her cycle with you or anything. This is incredibly embarrassing for me…"

"Embarrassing for you!"

"Keep your darn voice down! You want the whole class to hear about Asuka's menstrual cramps?!"

Shinji shuffled closer to Hikari, breaking into a panicked sweat. "What do I do? Asuka's gonna kill me for this, I just know it!"

"It's nothing you did, dork! It happens to all of us at one point or another. You'll just have to learn to deal with it. Like every other girl you'll ever meet has to deal with it."

Shinji buried his face in his hands. "B…but… how do I… deal with it."

"This part you're really not going to like," Hikari sighed.

"If you persist with these questions, I suspect you're really not going to like what you find," Kaworu was saying while he sat at his desk, gingerly opening a small bento box in preparation for lunch.

"I asked you the damn questions, didn't I?" Asuka shot back as she slammed her palms down upon the corners of his desk, glowering down upon the fifth child. "If I didn't want answers, I wouldn't have bothered wasting my breath asking them."

"Very well," replied Kaworu flatly. "I will try to answer your queries—provided you agree that the consequences are yours to bear and yours alone."

"Fine. Talk."

"I've already told you that I am a trained EVA pilot. Like you. Like Shinji Ikari. Like that girl."

"She's got a name," the German interrupted. She didn't quite know why it bothered her that Kaworu had mentioned Rei in such an impersonal manner. "Her name's Rei. Ayanami Rei."

"Indeed, that is the name he gave her. She does seem fine with it, anyway."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"I digress," the silver-haired boy continued. "I also told you that I was sent by GEHIRN—or rather, the United Nations Security Council which has summarily taken over GEHIRN's old Berlin division. Regrettably, that was but a half-truth."

"A half-truth? You mean a lie."

"A lie is only a lie when the truth is intentionally obscured to mislead a second party or agent for the general benefit of the first."

"What are you, a human dictionary or something?" groused the German.

"I omitted details which were not immediately relevant. I am still not sure that they are… yet… I can see neither the harm in telling you nor find justification for obscuring the truth."

"Which is?"

"Which is that GEHIRN is the tip of a very big iceberg. I have observed how men and women of great wealth and prominence on this planet are lionized, deified, and talked about night and day, for no apparent reason other than to dangle the ever-important financial carrot before the collective lusting mouths of the have-nots. But like any good puppet show, Miss Sohryu, the power lies not in the puppet, but the puppeteer. True enough, the identity of the puppeteer matters not to his audience—they are concerned only with the characters and the story. In the characters, that audience searches for someone to identify and connect with. In the story, they search for meaning, distractions, and hope in a world clearly deficient of each." He paused to take a bite of his sushi. He chewed slowly and deliberately. "But really, in the end, the puppeteer creates that story. He creates those characters. Regardless of whether or not the audience knows his name or even cares just who he is, the story that unfolds is the story which he creates, the story he wishes to tell. I think there is great power in that."

Asuka rolled her eyes impatiently. "Who cares about puppets and icebergs! I want to know the simple truth about who sent you and what you're doing here. That's all."

Kaworu brushed a few stray locks of mithril-colored hair away from the sanguine orbs of his eyes. He stared at Asuka intently as though reading every single micro-expression she exhibited. "There is always a wizard behind the curtain," Kaworu concluded. In this case, there are several. Tell me, Miss Sohryu, have you ever heard of SEELE?"