Shinji Ikari, by his own admission, had never been fashionable. His father had dispatched him at a very young age to live with an old colleague of his, and the teacher had done little if anything at all to appropriately groom Shinji for the image-conscious world of the adolescent teen. Moreover, the circumstances being what they were, the junior Ikari withdrew into a realm fabricated by his own mind. Without a motherly influence to coach him through the emotional theatrics of puberty, Shinji had turned into a quiet, detached and distant youth. Making any effort to affect an air of style and popularity seemed like a marvelous waste of time and resources.

It occurred to Shinji, however, that even if he had been more fashionable, it probably wouldn't have made much of a difference either. The third child had always thought of himself as being remarkably plain; his lusterless, raven hair was cropped short with little regard to the natural vector his hair took from the part. His face hinted at the prospect of one day becoming ruggedly angular like his father, but at present youth had given him a gently sloping jaw and high cheekbones, a combination that, in conjunction with his redeemably large eyes and almost dainty nose, made him look somewhat effeminate. While it was no challenge to find the senior Ikari in his son's features, it was perfectly clear to those who'd known her that Yui's genetics clearly held the upper hand in the boy's overall demeanor. Subsequently, Shinji had reasoned numerous times that no amount of fabric or hairstyling, no matter the cost, would ever defy the mediocrity of his physical disposition.

That was, of course, until he'd seen Asuka emerge from the dressing room, her hair feathered, frosted and spiked like one of the rock stars signed to the PS Company label, her body draped in layers of brand-name attire that Shinji would never in his wildest dreams ever commit to wearing. The faux-velvet, three-quarter-length hoodie, Shinji knew on first glance, must have been outrageously expensive. By the factory-torn Lamones (a comical misprint of Ramones) t-shirt beneath it, the studded belt festooned with an enormous buckle of two assault rifles crossed in front of a skull, and the equally ripped and jaw-droppingly tight rocker jeans and pair of glistening Alexander McQueen designer sneakers completing the ensemble, Shinji knew that Major Katsuragi would, in all likelihood, end up forced to part ways with one of her two precious sport coupes. Either that or the three of them would be eating NERV-issue MREs¹ for the next two weeks. Probably the ladder.

Asuka ran her fingers through her stylized hair and smirked broadly before striking a statuesque pose. "So? What do you think?" she asked.

"Y… you're asking me?" Shinji stammered, undecided as to whether he was more taken aback to how stylish she'd somehow managed to make him appear or the fact that she desired his input at all.

"No, I'm asking the Shinji Ikari behind you. Baka."

He took a moment to drink in the sight of her—him—wearing all those clothes, the unnatural colors in his hair, the confidence he exuded. And, for all her efforts, he couldn't help but admit…

"It… it looks really good, Asuka. I… I don't think I've… uh… ever managed to look that fashionable in my entire life."

"Well of course you haven't," Asuka quipped, rolling her eyes but still grinning with satisfaction. "That's because you're a fashion ignoramus. Fortunately for you, I still know how to dress exquisitely—even if I'm a guy."

"Well I guess I can't really argue with that, Asuka. You did a really nice job with everything. Everything except being nice to Misato's bank accounts like we'd agreed, but…"

"She can spare the money," Asuka interjected quickly. "Only thing she ever spends money on is beer anyway. It's not like she's dating right now, and she's got more than enough clothes already. You've seen her place and the mess she leaves! Hell, you do her laundry most of the time—which is seriously hentai by the way—so you know that she couldn't possibly use any more clothes of her own. Why should one woman own so many goddamn clothes anyway?"

Shinji bit his tongue for a moment in thought. The second child had a point, but it still didn't feel right to him that the two of them should use every last red yen in the woman's bank account for their own personal gain. But just when he opened his mouth to object, he noticed Asuka's eyes fixed sharply upon him—and the terrifying frown that had spread across her face.

It was only at that precise moment that Asuka took notice of exactly the variety of clothes Shinji had chosen for himself—or rather, chosen for her body. She'd told him that she trusted his judgment, but that hadn't meant that she'd trusted him to be fashionable. Rather, she considered Shinji to be hopeless and naïve when it came to fashion (a position supported by Shinji himself) and the only guidelines she'd given him were, firstly, not to wear anything perverted or flirtatious, and, secondly, to try to color-coordinate to the best of the junior Ikari's ability. Beyond that, what else could she truly say? Her mistake, however, was judging the third child's mastery of women's clothing based on his experience level prior to the event.

It had been about a month and half again as long since Asuka and Shinji had swapped bodies, but in that short amount of time, the junior Ikari had managed to adapt to his new situation better than anyone had foreseen. At first, he'd worn mostly plain, amorphous articles characteristic of either gender; he'd continued to wear his own t-shirts for the first two weeks. After a while, his embarrassment about his new body subsided slightly, and with familiarity came courage—and, incidentally, femininity. After a month, Shinji had, much to the second child's chagrin and utter distaste, memorized her measurements, had determined something of a preference for a certain type of clothing, and could even unhook a brassiere with one hand. As Asuka drank in the sight of Shinji wearing the new clothes he'd picked out, it slowly dawned on her what his particular predilections were, thus explaining the few times he'd managed to choke out something resembling a compliment whenever she herself had worn something similar.

"You've got weird fetishes," the second child observed in a neutral tone after a long, awkward quietude elapsed between them.

"W-what?!" Shinji exclaimed mortified, crossing his arms across his chest defensively, bashfully.

"I never realized you had a serious thing for girls with A.T. fields" Asuka said, rubbing her chin between her thumb and forefinger with clinical curiosity. "Absolute territory³," she added after a moment, in case the play on words had been too much for Shinji's pea-sized brain.

His mind computed the pun after a few moments, and then his ears went cotton-candy pink when he worked it out. The third child was absolutely mortified for a handful of reasons, but none greater than the fact that Asuka had cleverly deduced one of his closely guarded secrets—one he'd accidentally shared with his schoolmate and friend Kensuke Aida some time ago. Looking back, the junior Ikari realized that it was unimaginably careless to have picked out clothes for himself that reflected his own tastes in girls' apparel from when he'd been a naturally functioning member of the opposite gender. In the end, after great internal debate, Shinji had boldly decided upon a stonewashed, black denim jacket with white and black fur around the collar beneath which he wore a pink tank top with three pixilated hearts and cornflower-blue lettering that read "I Lost This Life; Good Thing I've Got Two Left". The prestige of the selection occurred below the belt, however, as he'd gone with a pair of red cut-off shorts and rivet belt from Uniqlo² as well as black thigh-high stockings and Chuck Taylor sneakers, drawing ample attention to Asuka's long and slender legs. It wasn't the first time he'd caved into his hidden preferences since occupying the second child's body, donning over-knee socks and similar fashions several times since the incident. He should have guessed that if he kept at it, eventually his fetish for zettai ryouiki—the narrow area of skin displayed between the bottom of a skirt or short and the top of a sock—would no longer go unnoticed. He'd never have guessed its discovery would happen quite like this.

He opened his mouth, forming a rebuttal, but the hardened scrutiny of Asuka's stare annihilated whatever self-confidence he had left, and the only words that escaped his lips were a sincere apology coupled with a promise never to wear such things ever again if it displeased the German. Ironically, her irritation seemed to be replaced by fascination.

"I guess it's natural for a geek like yourself," Asuka noted, further belittling the third child but in a way that was almost apologetic. "Boys are into all sorts of freaky stuff these days anyway, it seems. Knee socks are pretty tame compared to some of the stuff I've seen, to be perfectly honest." Then her eyes narrowed furtively. "What sort of panties do you prefer?" she asked suddenly.

Once the junior Ikari felt relatively assured that he wouldn't faint from embarrassment, he answered in a small voice, "I'm… I'm not going to tell you that."

"Why not? Don't be so boring." She moved so that she was standing beside him, then wrapped her arm around Shinji's smaller shoulders and whispered closely into his ear, "What kind are you wearing right now?"

I musn't run away. I musn't run away. I musn't run away.

With Asuka in full-on tease mode, there was little Shinji could do but run away. And run away he did, managing to shrug out of her casual embrace and stride quickly back toward the store to change back into his old clothes. He'd known this wasn't a good idea from the start, and now Asuka was prying into some of his most personal and intimate secrets. Too utterly mortified to do anything else, he didn't know how he'd have the courage to face Asuka and tell her he'd confessed after a situation like this had elapsed between them.

The second child watched Shinji flee for a moment, a silly grin plastered upon her face, before giving chase. It wasn't difficult to catch him. Her legs were now longer and she had more physical muscle mass with which to propel each purposeful stride. She caught Shinji by his slender, bejeweled wrist and spun him around. He resisted momentarily, but she held fast. All he could do was stare at his shoes in shame.

"Hey, you didn't think you'd get away from me that easily, did you, Shin-chan? Of course it's to be expected that I have to make sure you're not doing anything perverted with my body or wearing anything indecent. After all, I—"

The words caught in her throat. A small sniffling sound came out of the other, and Asuka raised an eyebrow curiously. "Shinji?" she murmured. "What… what's wrong?"

The third child raised his head, and it was only then that Asuka noticed the tears that had swelled up in his eyes. Immediately, she realized she'd gone much too far with his annoyingly fragile sensitivities, and she felt somehow rotten about it. She'd teased Shinji plenty in the past, berated him, even hit him. Since the transference, however, she'd backed off substantially—per the requests of both Dr. Akagi and Major Katsuragi—aware that Shinji's state of mind was not something to trifle with. She recognized at once that she'd made a mistake, but felt awkward about going about fixing it.

"L…look… uh… I'm sorry about teasing you and stuff… you know I'm just joking… don't you?"

Shinji nodded quietly.

"Then what's wrong?" she repeated dumbly.

Shinji balled his delicate hands into delicate fists. He returned to staring at the tips of his sneakers. "I… I wanted you to… like… what I was wearing…" the third child murmured abashedly.

The German scratched at the back of her neck awkwardly. "Uh… well… I never said I didn't like what you picked out… I mean… it's not how I dress normally… but I mean… it's alright, isn't it?"

"I'll never be able to make you happy… will I?" The third child said after a nearly unbearable silence. "Whether I'm a boy or a girl doesn't matter… I'll always fail."

Shinji Ikari began to sob softly, and Asuka couldn't help but feel guilt and pity both. She knew that a great deal of the third child's insecurities were her doing. She couldn't understand completely why she always felt the burning desire to tease, torture and torment the junior Ikari—or why the more she tried to hate him the more she ended up liking him—but she was, at the very least, aware that she cared about him. The prodigal EVA pilot wasn't sure what those feelings meant, or how deep they went, but at the end of the day, Shinji Ikari had become more than simply a colleague. He had become, over many agonizingly hostile and bothersome months, her friend. Her only friend.

Asuka opened her arms and pulled Shinji against her. The third child wept quietly against her chest, and she lightly placed her hands upon Shinji's shoulder blades, somberly comforting him while distracting herself from the obvious discomfort of the whole ordeal by silently counting the amount of spasms his back made as he cried. Seeing Shinji's vulnerability and weakness represented in her own body made her ever more cognizant of her own shortcomings and weakness. It was so unsettling that she felt bile creep up her throat even as she comforted him.

Kimochi warui, Asuka thought to herself.

Major Katsuragi frowned at the print-out of the MAGI's data she held in her hand. Admittedly, most of the substance of the report—the numerical and biochemical data—was far beyond her understanding and intellectual caliber, but the most important bits—the parts that Ritsuko had literally highlighted with yellow marker—seemed to confirm her greatest fears. Her brow furrowed, and she scowled and tossed the packet aside childishly.

"So… what… you're telling me… it's hopeless?"

"No, not hopeless," Ritsuko corrected her before taking a long, noisy sip of coffee from the paper cup on her desk, deliberately belaboring the point Misato was waiting for her to make. "Dangerous. Unpredictable."

"Because according to some… what… strings of code that Mom cooked up?" the other shot back angrily.

"Because evidence and experience shows that an A.T. field-instigated transference like the one those two experienced is extremely dangerous to humans," Ritsuko continued, completely unphased by the incisive comment about her mother. "Absolute Terror fields are what give shape and form to everything in our dimension. They're what define individual boundaries between objects. These fields, combined with the Higgs Field, are the two fundamental building blocks of our reality. Without them, there would be Instrumentality."

"So what?" the purple-haired woman protested. "They switched bodies once before! There's got to be some way to switch them back!"

"What if there isn't?"

"There has to be!" Katsuragi bellowed, her knuckles whitening as she heatedly clenched her fists. Dr. Akagi betrayed no hint of emotion as she rocked gently back and forth in her seat. At length, Misato sighed and plopped down into the seat across from her colleague. "There has to be," she repeated quietly, half to herself.

"I never said we were completely out of options," Ritsuko offered sympathetically. "We've just got no good ones."

"What do you mean?"

"Every living thing on earth has an A.T. field," the scientist mused. "The A.T. fields that the angels and Evangelions project are substantially stronger by several orders of magnitude, but essentially, they're no different on a molecular level." She paused, considering carefully her choice of words and wondering whether she could entirely trust her friend with a more substantive level of detail. "Since the very beginning of Project-E, NERV has always been looking at A.T. fields through a military lens. It's why we received U.N. funding in the first place. When the angels first started appearing, the U.N. security council had to react quickly, had to put together a series of defense countermeasures. To protect humanity from an alien threat. We learned very early on that A.T. fields possessed an incredible amount of power and energy when properly harnessed, able to function as either a nearly impenetrable kinetic barrier or a deadly weapon when focused and channeled into a high energy concentration particle beam. NERV was created to investigate the possibility of copying the technology for defensive purposes—and to build weapons to fight the angels with. The Evangelions themselves… well… they were a rather fortunate byproduct of that research.

"The point I'm trying to make is that NERV's research into A.T. fields didn't exactly stop even after the Evangelions went from prototype to functional combat-ready fighting machine. Commander Ikari always thought there was much more to it than that, felt that using A.T. fields as weapons or shields were the juvenile antics of a bunch of old men playing at war. He believed there was something intrinsically more valuable to be found within. Why else would every single organic entity on the planet possess an A.T. field if it weren't ultimately important to our survival—and our future."

Misato frowned and shot a terrifyingly dark glance toward the other. "You make him sound like a visionary."

"He is," Ritsuko assured her colleague, careful not to betray any hint of emotional loyalty to the commander in her tone. "His methods may not be the most… affable… but he realizes that sacrifices have to be made if any kind of real progress is achieved."

"Progress on what?"

"Why, ensuring humanity's place in the cosmos of course, what else? Haven't you noticed how insipid, lazy and vacuous our species has become? How the potential to create and uplift is always and consistently overshadowed by the lust to destroy and oppress? Humanity isn't going to save itself, Misato. Somebody's going to have to take steps."

The major uncrossed and crossed her legs, sinking back further into the chair, digesting carefully what she'd just heard. She didn't like the sound of any of it, and from what she was hearing, Ritsuko clearly knew more than she was letting on.

"I suppose Gendo Ikari is the one taking those steps to… save humanity… as you put it?"

"Yes," Ritsuko nodded. "He is. I've seen what he's capable of. I've seen what he's trying to do."

"And what is it, pray tell, that he's trying to do?"

Ritsuko removed a pack of cigarettes from her lab coat breast pocket and lit up. It eased her nerves as well as gave the woman something to occupy her idle fingers. "He's trying to wrest control of NERV from the short-sighted and egotistical fools who would see NERV transformed into a sacrilegious crusade against a higher power."

"A higher power?" Misato whispered, truly baffled.

The scientist heaved a heavy sigh, fully expecting Misato not to understand but still exasperated at her ignorance nevertheless. "Look, the point is, NERV has always had its secrets. How could it not? When in the history of paramilitary organizations have there not been secrets? Like I told you and that miscreant spy Kaji, it's honestly best not to dig too deeply if you can help it. What I will tell you is that since day one, NERV's been experimenting with A.T. fields—well beyond the scope of simple tactical applications with the EVAs."

"Just what exactly are you talking about, Rit?" Misato asked, suddenly suspicious and mistrustful. "Exactly how deep in all this are you?"

At that very moment, the door to lower control deck of Central Dogma swished open revealing a silver-haired, crimson-eyed Kaworu Nagisa behind it. He smiled warmly, and took a few steps forward, stopping directly midway between Katsuragi and Akagi. He bowed respectfully to each of them.

"I'm sorry for interrupting," he began, "but Dr. Akagi's presence is required by Commander Ikari in his private office."

Ritsuko's cheeks reddened slightly and she gulped hard, shooting a quick, awkward glance toward the other who was now squinting directly at her with a penetrating gaze.

"Tell him I'll be there shortly," the scientist replied.

"He requests your presence immediately," Kaworu beamed informatively. "The substitute pilot has just arrived on campus. Briefings need to take place, protocols need to be followed."

"Yes, of course, of course" Dr. Akagi groaned, somewhat relieved to be free of the anxiety-inducing atmosphere that had developed in the atrium. She stamped out her cigarette in the tray beside her, a trace of her vintage-red lipstick visible on the unfiltered butt. "Ultimately, the choice will come down to the pilots. We may be able to simulate conditions similar to when the two switched bodies, but it may not work at all. They may suffer further psychological trauma. They could even die. The truth is, we simply don't know. Too many variables, too little time. Even the MAGI haven't been particularly helpful, as you've read." She gestured toward the pamphlet by the major's feet. "Read it through again. Decide how you want to handle it. You are their guardian, after all. It's probably best you lay it all out for them."

Ritsuko strode past Nagisa, firing off an icy, distrustful stare before leaving the chamber. When she was gone, Kaworu seated himself in the chair the other woman had vacated.

"Why does Dr. Akagi change the color of her hair?" he asked suddenly out of nowhere.

The question completely caught Misato off guard. She admitted to herself that she would have been annoyed by virtually any other question but this. In truth, the question was too puzzling not to marvel at. The purple-haired woman shrugged. "I think it has something to do with her mother, but I'm not really sure," Misato admitted. She didn't want to talk to the fifth child, but she nevertheless found herself strangely compelled to answer his banal questions. Perhaps she was just lacking for company and would talk to anyone who would listen.

The fifth child sat in contemplative silence for several moments before asking a follow-up question: "What does Dr. Akagi's hair color have anything to do with her deceased mother?"

Major Katsuragi's brow twitched, but she held her annoyance in check. "The two of them didn't get along very well. I guess she wants to be different than her mother was, maybe."

"And chemically altering the complexion of her hair renders her different than her mother," Kaworu stated the inference Misato was getting at, making her assertion sound stupid and asinine by way of his tone.

"It's… complicated," the other said at last.

"I suppose it must be," Kaworu nodded. "Or, at least, it is a matter beyond my understanding, for I am unable to grasp how the intrinsic essence of a person can be defined by alterations of their physical form."

"It's an expression of individuality," Misato explained. "How people look and are perceived by other people in society is very important. Creating an image for oneself is a very important thing, Kaworu. It's a way of aligning yourself with a particular taste or interest. It's a way to stand out from your peers. And for some people, it's just plain old fun."

"Fun," Kaworu repeated slowly, sounding out the word as though it were completely alien to his tongue. His usual, all-knowing smile faded. "It doesn't sound… fun… to me. It sounds… isolating… lonely."

"In what way?"

"If you project an image, will not other individuals judge you based off a preconceived identity or paradigm? Trying to stand out seems like a form of social exclusion… or a way of hiding one's identity beneath something incredibly superficial and trite. People will judge you even before you've opened your mouth to speak."

"You talk like you're not even human," Misato scoffed. "You're a perfect example of what I'm talking about. Your albino characteristics—that silver hair and red eyes of yours—those things set you apart from others, big time, especially in this country. Surely you've felt others staring at you since your arrival, wondering, whispering, judging?"

The fifth child's smile returned. He stared straight at the woman with eyes that belied a level of wisdom so well managed and sophisticated that it made Misato feel almost pathetic. "You've validated the point I was trying to make, Major Katsuragi. Others stare at me because of my achromatosis, because I inherited a recessive gene allele from my mother that deprives me of pigmentation, but those characteristics tell them nothing about who I am as a person. Nor would they if I had dark, luxurious hair like yours, Major, or fiery red hair like Shinji."

"You mean like Asuka," Misato corrected.

The fifth child smiled sadly, almost comfortingly. "You haven't been listening to a word I've said, have you?" he wondered softly. He rose from his seat, his eyes still fixed upon the woman. He changed the subject. "You're a beautiful woman, Misato Katsuragi," he started, causing the woman to cough abruptly at the forwardness of his statement. "A beautiful woman still in the prime of her youth. You blatantly flaunt your sexuality, then withhold your heart. Is it because you are afraid of getting your heart broken? Is it because you fear the rejection of your true identity? Who can say? Though I've read your file, you are much more interesting and striking in person. I hope that you will not let this… place (he gestured around the room, for the first time ever visibly displaying an inkling of distaste and displeasure)… repress the most pure and beautiful parts of yourself. Places like this only bring out the worst in people, I fear, not the best."

As SEELE's agent left the room without another word, Misato fumbled desperately in her mind for something to say. Anything would suffice—a rejection of his assertions, a clever retort or insult, even reverse psychology intended to pry cryptic information out of the child himself. Nothing came, however, and the woman swore softly. Then her mobile phone beeped and she fished around in her jacket pocket before locating the device and flipping it open. There was a text message from Ryouji Kaji requesting to meet with her immediately.

Finally, the woman thought, before expeditiously departing the NERV campus and heading back to her apartment to freshen up.

¹ MRE—The Meal, Ready-to-Eat, commonly known as the MRE, is a self-contained, individual field ration in lightweight packaging bought by the United States military for its service members for use in combat or other field conditions where organized food facilities are not available.

² Uniqlo—a Japanese casual wear designer, manufacturer and retailer.

³ Zettai ryouiki—Asuka makes a pun here in Japanese. In the Japanese language, zettai ryouiki means "absolute territory", but among otaku and fashionistas alike, it describes the area of bare skin exposed on the thighs between the skirt and stockings or socks. Asuka jokes, observing that Shinji has a thing for girls with "A.T. fields", referring to his obsession with girls' socks, stockings, and their legs.