The Sixth Child

Chapter Three

With the threat of Eisheth and her children neutralized for the moment, the survivors of the train from Odawara followed the nearest road on foot. Though SDF helicopters and planes zoomed overhead, the survivors' rescue came in a convoy of humvees. In case Eisheth had anything else up her sleeve, the rescuers came prepared, manning chaingun turrets and wielding shoulder-fired rocket launchers. Even so, such firepower might not have meant very much against another Angel. One could only hope these arms would rip apart and destroy the flesh-and-blood Zenunim before they could dissolve their bodies into LCL and reform undamaged, too.

For these reasons, Shinji didn't feel safe outside the capital, and even when the convoy entered the outskirts of town, that uneasiness didn't pass. SDF members stood on nearly every street corner, whether actively securing invaded areas or merely looking out to maintain the illusion of order. It was an image reminiscent of post-Second Impact chaos, of the need for martial law and increased security that had given rise to the Special Self-Defense Force and a more proactive Japan. At least then, the major trial of the Impact had come and gone. Shinji could hardly say the same of Eisheth and her invasion.

"As soon as Eisheth became aware of us—of our existence—she sent this first wave," Misato explained, keeping Shinji close to her in the second car of the convoy. "Rei said it's been coasting across the cosmos for thousands of years at least, so that as soon as it arrived, Eisheth could observe the madness that would ensue."

Why would a being billions of years old send a small expeditionary force just to observe the results?

"So she could improve on their first strike," said Misato. "So when the next one came, she would know how we'd react. Now, she can orchestrate something even more devastating. We've repelled their first wave, but more are on the way. That's why we've been preparing—to do everything we can so we're ready when they arrive."

"But are we ready?" asked Shinji.

Misato smirked. "We have to be. We have what we have. We have Eva, and we have good people willing to fight. If that isn't enough, nothing is. The only thing I'd take back if we could is having to use the Eva so publicly. So far we've been working in secret even from our friends. Now, too many people know what we've been doing to hide it. A fight between an Eva and Angel isn't something you can really keep quiet."

True, anyone with a pair of eyes and a memory that wasn't Swiss cheese would know an Eva and an Angel when they saw them, but Misato had called in the Eva over an isolated stretch of countryside. How much could anyone have seen?

Shinji said as much to Misato on the matter, and all she did was adjust a few dials on her radio and hand over the earpiece to Shinji.

"It was a hundred meters tall, I tell you!" said a voice. "And the thing it was fighting had to be at least twice that in width!"

"Are you sure that's what you saw, sir?" asked another voice. "I run an honest program on these airwaves. I'm not in the business of giving in to sensationalism or fanning the flames of rumors. If you'd be so kind, be specific about what you saw for the benefit of the audience."

"You want specifics? The Angel swallowed up the Eva whole and tried to take it out with a suicide attack! I was here when the first one came to Tōkyō-3, you know. You'd think they'd have learned that doesn't work by now, but that's what they did!"

Wincing, Shinji handed the earpiece back to Misato.

"And that's with military censorship," Misato mused. "Never mind the part about slimy suction-cup creatures dissolving people with just a touch, either. We're going to need to get ahead of this before too many rumors get spread around. We can take you home first—though with Eisheth touching people's minds, I have to insist that you have some protection—or you can come with me and help try to save the world. What do you say to that?"

To Shinji, that wasn't even a choice. "You already know what I've decided."

Misato winked at that. "Thought so. That's why I have someone waiting for you."

Most of the convoy headed for area hospitals to give the survivors treatment and care, but two vehicles went with Shinji and Misato's humvee on the way to National Square. Without regard for street signs, curbs, or right-of-way, they lined up outside the Ministry of Defense headquarters—the yellow egg-shaped structure dubbed the "Amber Moon"—and a girl in a white labcoat streaked from the glass doors, taking Shinji into her arms as soon as he stepped out of the humvee.

"What the hell were you thinking?" cried Asuka, nearly in tears. "When I said you should go out and do something, taking the train to fight some alien invaders wasn't what I had in mind!"

"It wasn't what I had in mind, either." Shinji placed a hand on Asuka's shoulder, assuring her. "I'm all right, really. Thanks for being concerned."

"You'd say you were all right if you were chopped in half. Misato? Tell me he's fine."

"He may have taken a bump or two and been liquefied by aliens, but he's good now. We'll have to get him cleaned up a bit, though."

Shinji blinked. "Cleaned up for what?"

"The press conference," Misato explained. "The world has too many questions right now. We're going to be the ones to give people answers."

With the finest tailors in the capital hurrying to craft a suit for Shinji, Misato led the young man into the bowels of the Amber Moon. The amenities were usually reserved for officers and the defense minister's staff, so, in Misato's words, he should be "honored to shower where such self-important men wash off the perfume of attractive lobbyists and secretaries."

For Shinji, it was more of a reminder of the past. When piloting Eva, he'd sometimes come from the entry plug and stood there, in the spray of a showerhead, and let his thoughts drift for minutes or even hours at a time. It wasn't his water bill to pay, after all, and no one was about to complain to him about how long he spent in the shower.

"Don't dally in there," said a voice behind the stall door. "The last thing you want to do is go on television with your hair still wet."

Shinji smiled to himself. "Didn't mean to make you wait, Asuka."

"You're not making me wait, just the rest of the human race."

"I'm surprised you're not getting cleaned up, too," he observed.

"I don't mind a little sweat on my brow. It shows I've been working hard."

"I mean, if you were going to be here, I thought you'd be in the stall with me."

"Mm, I like it when you tempt me. But no, now's no good. I'd have a hell of a time fixing my hair, and I don't think Misato sent out for a dress for me, either. I'm here to hurry you up, so get scrubbing, Ikari! Leave no trace of dirt or Angel blood behind, or there'll be no repopulating the human race tonight!"

Shinji rubbed a dollop of soap between his hands. "You know, you're the one most concerned with the birth rate."

A third voice echoed through the shower room. "That's because it's a nine-month investment for a girl, so she's right to consider the matter more thoroughly," said Asuka's mother, Kyōko. "Ah, what's this? I thought you two would be making like fruit flies by now."

Scrubbing at his arms vigorously, Shinji made a face. "Fruit flies?" he echoed. "Why fruit flies?"

"There's a reason we use fruit flies in so many experiments. Their genome is easy to understand; many of their traits can be observed through a microscope; and they have lots and lots of—"

"Mama, please!" cried Asuka. "There's no time…"

"No time? Perhaps Shinji-kun here just needs to learn. An experienced man ought to be able to get you quivering on your knees in under a minute. I once had an advisor in Nuremberg—a charming man, really, but he knew almost nothing about biology except what applied to the bedroom. Anyway, he had the problem that he couldn't contain himself for longer than forty-seven seconds, but oh, what he could do in those seconds! I actually timed him over several weeks just to be sure of the number. I thought that phenomenon in itself might be worth a paper, perhaps in the Journal of—"

Another voice interrupted from a few stalls down. "Doctor Sōryū, maybe you could let Shinji-kun finish up without more stories?" asked Misato. "Honestly, when even I'm uncomfortable with tales of your sexual escapades through the metaphysical biology circles, there's a problem!"

"I really don't see the issue," said Kyōko. "Out of maybe a hundred metaphysical biologists in the world before Third Impact, I only remember meeting about half of them. Now, how many I don't remember meeting—that's a bit hazy. Can't be more than ten or twenty of them, though. Bear in mind, there never have been many women in the field, though I do remember once I was at a conference in Sydney and this lovely graduate student girl was giving a talk on soul capture and transfer. When she said the words 'imperfect extraction of phantasmal essence,' I just knew I had to take her card…."

The good thing about Kyōko regaling them with her stories of scientific revelations and sexual discovery was that they encouraged Shinji to get out of that shower stall as soon as he possibly could. Indeed, it was all he could do not to run out of there naked and screaming when Kyōko suggested he could learn something if only he had more experience, and given that either she or Misato was the most experienced woman they knew…well, at least Kyōko had the good sense to add that she would never compete with her daughter for a man.

Once cleansed in body (though perhaps not in mind), Shinji was shown to some private quarters to dress for the press conference, and since time was of the essence, Asuka came along to help him with the small things—for example, making sure his collar was down behind his head or tying his tie while he focused on a dazzling array of buttons and zippers. At least, that was the plan until both of them realized they didn't know how to tie a tie.

"Why the hell is this so difficult?" Asuka muttered, unknotting the red fabric for the tenth time. "You'd think after being turned to goo we'd have taken away this bit of knowledge to file away. Shinji, you're a man. You can do this, right?"

"Ties were never part of our uniforms. I'm just an ordinary Japanese boy; didn't they teach you anything like this in Germany?"

"I wish." Asuka ducked her head out. "No, Mama, stay there. Misato, we need some help here. Military types ought to know something about this."

Her hair up in rollers, Misato marched into the room, tweaking a row of ribbons on her dress uniform. "Aha, I see what the problem is. Well, on the scale of crises we could be facing, I think I'd take this one over what we had earlier. Don't worry, Shinji-kun—you tell the crazy five-eyed aliens to go to hell. I'll fix your tie."

Asuka raised an eyebrow, glancing at Shinji. "You really did that?"

Shinji nodded. "It had to be said. No one else knew how to stand up to Eisheth. People needed to know—or be reminded—that our lives are worth fighting for."

Pursing her lips, impressed, Asuka took Shinji's coat jacket and opened it for him to put on once Misato was finished. She brushed the lint off the arms and looked over his shoulder, watching his reflection in the mirror. "Looks like you found something worth doing after all," she said, and she pecked him on the cheek. "Knew you would."

Shinji wiped his face with his hand, smearing the pink lipstick away. "Asuka, we're going to be on camera soon."

"Leave it be; people want to know that the savior of the human race is getting laid! It gives them hope they will, too!"

In more ways than one, mother and daughter were very much alike. They had a way of thinking all their own, and it went beyond their background in the sciences. While Kyōko's stories were embarrassing and awkward, they told of a woman who had a need for intensity in her life. Asuka was exactly the same way, and indeed, judging by the kiss on the cheek he'd received, he was starting to find something worth putting all of himself into as well.

At the top of the hour, Shinji, Asuka, and Kyōko journeyed upstairs to a small media room and stood to the left of a simple wooden podium. The new suit itched all over, but Shinji gritted his teeth to bear the sensation. Indeed, he was rather thankful he had something else to occupy his mind than the stares of the press corps. It didn't take long for rumors and speculation to run rampant through the rows of seated journalists, for even the cameramen to focus in on Shinji—that is, if they weren't drawn to Asuka and the sweater top underneath her labcoat instead. Whatever the media's focus, Shinji and Asuka's presence was a tacit admission of the truth: people had seen an Eva, and now they wanted to know why.

And, frankly, while Shinji knew what the Eva was for, he was as curious as they were. Just what Misato had in mind for this press conference had Shinji mystified.

Not for long, however. Sharp and professional in her uniform and short heels came Misato, and the cascade of photographic flashes didn't seem to faze her. She raised both hands to quiet the room.

"Please, please," she said, "we will take questions after I've made a statement. Ladies and gentlemen, you all know who I am and what the people beside me have done. I've been authorized by the prime minister to speak regarding the events that have transpired overnight and into this morning. At approximately 2230 last night, Air SDF detected, in conjunction with other military forces worldwide, an object of considerable mass and velocity on a collision trajectory with Earth. An international effort was undertaken to deflect or destroy the object with all available weaponry, but we could not break it up before it came down approximately twenty kilometers outside of Chino around 2345. But, as you can see, we are all still here. We were not obliterated in that impact because the object was not a meteor or any other natural phenomenon. It was made and created to be capable of powered flight. It slowed its descent to cause minimal damage and to deliver its payload: a scouting force of alien creatures with remarkable abilities to heal injuries and survive combat."

The room was deadly quiet, and Misato allowed for a moment to pass before continuing.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you have believed what I've said so far, I'm glad. I wish I could say the government of Japan and the Prime Minister's office weren't concerned that this information could cause panic or fear. We are all concerned about that, but in the end, we all felt it was best to bring the world together on this day and ensure that humanity will band together to fight for its right to live the way it chooses to. Now, I'm sure you have many questions—for instance, why these alien creatures came or what their motives are and how much we know about them. For that, I must defer to someone else—our resident expert, our most ardent defender. If for some reason you don't believe me, I think she will convince you."

Misato stepped aside, and for a moment, Shinji, Asuka, and Kyōko looked to one another. Based on Misato's last remark, it wasn't Shinji who should go up there to speak; he hardly considered himself an expert on Eisheth anyway, and neither Asuka nor her mother, who'd just heard about the giant, could possibly go up there, either. If not them, then who did Misato mean?

A gasp went through the room, and the photographers within the press corps whet crazy, peppering the podium with an array of flashbulbs. At center stage, a faint glow materialized and took form. Her body see-through and translucent, Rei nevertheless took position behind the microphone, even though she wouldn't need it. While her junior high uniform looked airy and ephemeral—and they were—her red eyes transfixed all who saw her.

"Oh my God," Asuka muttered. "The geist is here! And she's alive!"

Rei turned her head slightly, eying Asuka. "My body is dead, but I am everywhere and nowhere. Past and future are the same to me. That is how I can be here. That is why I am still alive."

She faced forward again, and just a look from her silenced the raucous press corps.

"I was sent to Earth to bring about life," she said. "I was not the only one. There was Adam. You know of him, but there were others, too, who have seeded life in parts of this galaxy. One of them is my sister, Eisheth. She has lost faith in her children. She's lost faith in all our children. She believes the only beneficial existence lies in forcing you back to the LCL that made you. She is watching you, and she tells her children what she sees so that when they arrive here, they will run through all defenses and dissolve mankind.

"I won't let that happen. I have been watching her, too. I have been watching over you, even when I wouldn't let you see me. To fight against Eisheth, I have given you my body. My flesh has been reanimated, and from it, Eva are born: one for Colonel Katsuragi and the Japanese, one for the Americans, and one for the Germans. They are people who know how to build and work with Eva. They are humanity's best hope against my sister and the force she will bring."

One of the members of the press shot up from his seat. Notepad in hand, he stared skeptically at Rei. "So this is what we're supposed to believe?" he demanded. "The Prime Minister would invoke Lilith's name to get the support of cultists and justify rebuilding an Eva despite the political ramifications? Colonel Katsuragi, don't insult us with what's clearly a projection, a technological ruse! The people demand to know the truth about what their leaders are doing!"

Through narrowed eyes, Rei answered the journalist. "If you do not believe what you see," she said, "then I will convince you." She raised her eyes, looking about the whole room. "I will convince all of you."

She vanished.

The room erupted in confusion. Even Asuka, Shinji, and Kyōko looked between one another, clueless. Misato ran to the open microphone and urged the journalists to settle down, but an overwhelming thought penetrated all their minds, rendering the colonel's efforts obsolete:

'Look outside.'

The various monitors in the briefing room switched to an exterior shot. Over a bright, partly cloudy day, a set of giant, branching wings loomed. They attached to a female figure, one whose skin was pure white.

"There's a balcony here!" cried a voice.

The journalists abandoned their seats, and Shinji too left the stage, fighting his way through the crowd just to see. They came across a series of glass panels leading to a balcony—one that circled the entire building. Shinji managed to push and weave his way to the railing, and from there, he saw her—the giant that had come to him when he wanted it all to stop. Her skin and hair were totally white. Her body faced the Defense Ministry, but it extended far above the clouds, hiding everything above Rei's waist. Still, though the weather preserved some of Rei's modesty, Shinji politely averted his gaze.

'People of Earth, you are my children. You will listen to me.'

An image of Rei's face—white-haired but with stark red eyes—flashed into Shinji's mind. The seven-eyed mask of Lilith followed it, and the two merged together, superimposed in Shinji's thoughts.

'Eisheth is coming. This is not a joke. This is not a game. You will band together and use the Eva in peace and against Eisheth. I forbid any other use for them. Band together. Cooperate with one another, or be dissolved. I have faith that won't happen, but I have done all I can. You must choose to save yourselves.'

The clouds above parted briefly, and for a moment, Shinji thought he saw Rei's red eyes high above them, gazing to the Earth below.

'Until then,' she finished, 'I will be watching.'

#

All in all, the world did not take Rei's stark warning well. In large part, cultists came out in droves to welcome back their goddess to planet Earth and pledge their loyalties to the fight, but even that bit of good news came at a price. Some cultists viewed Rei's appearance as a vindication not only of their philosophy but their faith. They grew more outspoken and evangelical about their beliefs, and where others had become despondent over the news, tensions erupted into brawls or even riots. As the people were restless and confused, so too were the nations of the world. The Chinese and Russians expressed outrage over Japan being given an Eva to hold over them once again, despite Rei's insistence that Eva would never be used against men. Nevertheless, both nations stepped up their military presences, mobilizing naval ships to closely protect their waters and running air patrols close to Japanese airspace.

All this Misato heard about during a long and involved phone call with the prime minister. She took his angered ravings with a smile, even while Asuka, Shinji, and Kyōko could hear the man clearly through the speaker of Misato's phone.

"The next time a disembodied alien tells me I must disclose to the world that humanity is on the brink of annihilation, I will resign!" he insisted. "I am the Prime Minister of Japan! No intangible ghost girl should be telling me what to do!"

"Sir," Misato began, "you do realize Rei can hear you, right?"

The prime minister went very quiet at that, abruptly leaving Misato in peace. "Well," she said, putting away her cell phone, "it's really best to leave the politics to him. We have a war to fight. All of the other troubles we face until Eisheth's main invasion force gets here are secondary. As Rei said, Eva is our last, best weapon against whatever Eisheth will bring to bear, and we need to make sure we're up to the task."

"And that burden will largely fall on the Eva," noted Kyōko. "Or rather, the child unlucky enough to pilot it."

Shinji shook his head. "There isn't a pilot. When Unit-14 saved us, Misato-san said there was no pilot, just a dummy plug."

"A dummy plug?" echoed Asuka. "Who on earth could think a mindless clone would know anything about how to really fight? Put me in there. I know how to get things done. Or Shinji, too. We could take turns."

"That might be difficult," said Kyōko. "Once a pilot is old enough, the neural interface—"

Misato held out a hand, stopping the doctor in her tracks. "No, no, that's exactly what I want to try, theoretical hangups aside. As Asuka said, I don't trust a dummy plug to do what a thinking, intelligent person would. I know the Americans and the Germans are unwilling to subject anyone to the stress of piloting Eva, but they're wimps. We're better than them. I'd rather rely on a person I can talk to and strategize with than some unthinking brute. A person would've done all they could to get the Angel this morning as far as possible from us. That way, when it exploded, we wouldn't have been precariously close to the blast zone. The dummy plug's been a good test pilot to demonstrate that the Eva has the right capabilities, but now we should put our trust in human hands. Come, Shinji-kun, Asuka, Doctor Sōryū. Let me take you to the Eva, so we can see who will determine humanity's future."

Their destination was Hachibuse Mountain, a scenic peak to the southeast of town, but the way they were going, they wouldn't get to see the sights. Instead, Misato led them down through the Defense Ministry building, explaining some history along the way.

"When Old Tōkyō was nuked and the capital relocated to Matsumoto, the government scrambled to set up alternate contingencies. To start, they struck ground on a new SDF base—having the Eastern Army headquarters located a full three hours away in Gunma Prefecture would've been horribly inconvenient, let me tell you. Not only that, they started work on a security bunker under Hachibuse Mountain to shield high-ranking government officials from attack. At least, that was the plan before Rei and I came along, looking for a place to build and test an Eva in secret."

Misato snickered, momentarily unable to contain herself, but she went on.

"You should've seen the look on the PM's face when Rei told him she needed the Hachibuse complex! He said to her, 'But what am I to do if we're attacked again?' And Rei answered back, 'The death of a politician would be regrettable, yes, but not half as tragic as you make it sound.' So that gave us a rudimentary bunker and a place for scientists to work on cajoling Rei's petrified body into something useful. It still took time and effort to develop that into an Eva, but here we are."

"There" was an underground subway platform of sorts, much smaller in size and scope than any public transport Shinji had seen. With SDF guards posted in almost every corridor, the sense of security was palpable. A set of pure white railcars, rounded on their tops, were waiting for Shinji, Misato, Asuka, and Kyōko, and they were the only ones to board. A six-minute ride under rock and earth brought them to a bustling subterranean complex with gray concrete walls and boxy fluorescent lights providing a stark, artificial glow. A man with two thin, golden stripes on his collar awaited them at the arrival platform, and after a closer look, Shinji recognized him.

"Hyūga-san?"

Captain Hyūga nodded. "Good to see you again, Shinji-kun, Asuka-chan. Unit-14 is waiting for you in the cage. I'll lead you to the pilots' lockers and your plugsuits. Colonel Katsuragi, your presence is requested in Control."

"Now, now, Makoto-kun," said Misato, winking, "no need to be so formal among friends."

The young captain grinned at that but said nothing. He showed Asuka, Shinji, and Kyōko through a maze of corridors and down two separate elevators to get them into the heart of the base. A small, pristine, and inert locker room had but two green and black plugsuits hanging out for Shinji and Asuka to try, and while Shinji found it agreeable enough, Asuka chafed at the color scheme.

"When I show I'm able to pilot this thing better than Shinji, we're painting it red!" she announced. "Count on it!"

"First things first," said Kyōko. "We need to see that either of you can pilot it. In children and adolescents, the human brain is constantly changing. The influx of hormones with puberty, for example, is what turns childish avoidance or innocent fascination with the opposite sex into a raging drive for—"

"Mama, please," said Asuka.

Kyōko sighed. "Oh very well. My point is that trying to sync with an Eva at this age could be difficult—even painful. You both have experience with it, so that's a plus, but don't think it will be as easy as it used to be, especially because Yui-chan is gone, and I have no intention of being in one of those things again."

That's right. Shinji's mother was gone; she wouldn't be there to protect him from within the Eva. Any pain he felt there would be his own, but he'd prepared for that. He'd made his decision to join the fight, whatever it might take from him.

Shinji went first, leaving Kyōko and Asuka behind to watch from the observation room above the cage. All alone, he descended in a wiry elevator to face an Eva once again. All in all, the resemblance of this new facility to old Nerv Headquarters amazed him. While the colors and lights were somewhat brighter, the recreation was canny enough to give him shivers as he stepped onto the walkway before the Eva. Just as before, technicians helped him into the entry plug, and the old sensations came back. Had he imagined this scenario before Third Impact happened, he would've thought it a nightmare, something he never would've chosen to be a part of again. But here, two years after waking up, there was a tiny element of nostalgia. He'd done some incredible things as a pilot—all the things people honored him for. He'd always dismissed those accolades as overblown, but a kernel of truth remained.

Still, Kyōko had said the process could be painful this time. That much Shinji felt prepared for. Piloting Eva—having a connection between a mammoth, powerful body and a human's fragile mind—always had carried that risk.

"Shinji-kun?" A communications window opened to his left, giving a view of Misato and Hyūga in the control room. "We're all set here. Are you ready?"

He opened and closed his fist, feeling the give of the material in the plugsuit. "Go ahead."

The entry plug screwed into the back of the Eva's neck. The LCL in the plug went clear, and a shimmering light surrounded Shinji. He gripped both control handles, closed his eyes, and let the technician's voice on the other end guide him into sync with the Eva.

"Beginning synch test. Initial synch ratio will be limited to baseline minus eight nepers, one neper increments to a maximum of zero. Initialization—baseline minus eight."

The Eva tugged at his mind, and he let it. He wanted to feel the cool, outside air through the chinks in the Eva's armor.

"Minus seven."

This stage was a little like falling, except forward into an unfathomable abyss. His heart rate quickened, but he held fast.

"Minus six."

Shinji gasped. The Eva was grasping at his mind, as if it held his brain it its hands and could crush him at any opportunity. He winced a bit, gritting his teeth. It was undeniably unnatural. No man should enjoy another presence in contact with his mind.

"Minus five."

His chest tightened; he struggled to speak. The Eva pressed in against him. It was too much, too fast! If he let it come in any more, it would swallow him up, but to resist it was like having razorblades run through the veins in his head.

"Shinji-kun," said Misato, "your vitals are going a little crazy here. We can stop if you like. There's no need to rush things."

He coughed. "I'm all right!" he managed to eke out. "I won't run away. Take me to the next level. We'll see if I can do it or not."

Misato nodded, signaling the technician. The woman's voice was cool and steady. "Minus four."

The jump in intensity surged through his body. He struggled to keep his eyes open against the throbbing pain. A swirl of colors overcame his vision, and the weight of the Eva's presence engulfed him, turning the world black. It cut him off from Misato and rendered the world silent—that was, silent but his anguished screams.

#

For all his good intentions to be brave and show tenacity, all it had done was put him in a hospital bed to stare at an unfamiliar ceiling once more. To the pulsing of a heart monitor, Shinji sat up slowly, cradling his head as it pounded and ached. There was no light from outside to stream in from the window in that room—just pure white, artificial light in two long rods overhead. In naught but a pale blue hospital gown, he turned, letting his legs dangle off the side of the bed. He exhaled, holding his head in his hands.

"That really sucked, didn't it?" In a low chair beside the bed, Asuka sat with him, looking drawn out and exhausted.

Shinji glanced around. "What time is it? How long have I been out?"

"Three or four hours," said Asuka. "That thing did a number on you. On me, too. Hell, foolish me. When they said you'd be all right I hopped right into that thing, thinking I'd do better. I only made it halfway between four and five before they shut it down to rip me out. Even that felt like downing half a dozen shots, but I still wanted to go. I mean, you got to minus four. How hard could it be to get from that to zero?"

"How hard is it?"

Asuka shrugged. "It turns out their 'minus four' is only about a two percent synch ratio! Two percent! Why don't they just say two percent if that's what they mean?" She winced, putting her head down, and went quiet. "Good thing I didn't go any further. I feel cheated, like I have a hangover but didn't get to have any fun."

"We're too old."

"I guess. Real great system they have here so that only fourteen-year-olds can pilot! Because junior high kids are paragons of mental stability, right?"

There was a soft rustling as someone stepped around the curtain dividing Shinji from the rest of the infirmary ward. "I heard some chatter in here," said Misato. "I'm glad to see you're all right, Shinji-kun. How are you feeling?"

Shinji shaded his eyes from the ceiling lights, wincing. "Like someone put a drill bit to my forehead."

"That's to be expected, sadly. I think it's fair to say we'll have to be cautious about putting you or Asuka back in the entry plug. It could be with time you'd get used to the way it feels. It did take Rei months to get Unit-00 synchronized to a combat-ready level, after all. Not everyone can walk in with a forty-percent synch ratio right off the street. Still, I've been talking with Doctor Sōryū and the rest of my people here, and I think the best thing to do is investigate some other candidates—children of the right age, that is. We've been preparing for that case for some time anyway. All we have to do is interview the candidates and see who'd be willing to volunteer. If anyone knows what it takes to pilot Eva, it's you two. If you're willing, you could help with the selection process."

That seemed agreeable enough. Anything Shinji could do to help was fine by him. Then, at least, he could feel like he was a part of the effort, even if he couldn't fight.

After an initial workup from the base medical staff, Shinji was cleared to get back on his feet, provided someone was with him at all times for at least the next day or two. Asuka was more than happy to do that, and Misato gave the two of them a stack of file folders to look over and a conference room with a long table to deliberate and, ultimately, entertain guests, for already, her people were rounding up a set of pilot candidates, a group of children who would be tested and interviewed to gauge their fitness for the task.

Of course, Shinji didn't know the first thing about interviewing people—more often he himself was the subject, not the interviewer—but Captain Hyūga was there to provide Shinji and Asuka with a little guidance. For the first few candidates to arrive, Shinji said little, merely taking notes on the questions Hyūga asked and how the children responded.

"The training might interfere with your after-school activities," Hyūga had informed one of the candidates. "Would that be a problem?"

"My student council work?" asked the girl, a demure thirteen-year-old named Nagase Ayumi. She adjusted her glasses nervously, and her pigtails quivered slightly as she considered the question. "Oh dear. I mean, I can only imagine after the news that we'll be very busy organizing school events, information, and activities to try to prepare, but I'm more than willing to do my part, I promise! I'll do my best to keep humanity safe if chosen." She looked to Shinji and Asuka, smiling brightly. "Just the way both of you did."

Such innocent enthusiasm. To see that the children of this day could find it in themselves to volunteer comforted Shinji, but still, the girl gave him too much credit. Had men not found it within themselves to come back after Third Impact, no one would be around to laud him, even though he knew the choice he'd made was good.

And Shinji hadn't even really wanted to pilot in the first place. He wasn't alone feeling that way. While Ayumi had dutifully accepted the task, some of the other candidates were more guarded.

"We all know we're the right age for this." This came from the fifth candidate, a tall, lanky boy named Maeda Kenichi. "I'd rather be out playing ball, honestly, but my family would look at me like I'm insane for passing this up. My friends and I were talking after the announcement, and they were all hoping they could kick alien ass in an Eva. I'm not like that. If you need me to do it, I'll do it, but I'm not one of those crazy, death-seeking guys who want to stomp on the heads of Angels. In baseball, if you're reckless, you can run right into an out. That's not me."

That was something all the pilots should understand. More and more, Shinji realized through these interviews that he couldn't afford just to take notes and relay his opinions to Misato and Hyūga. Though he was at a loss for how exactly to do that or what he should say, the opportunity came to him—forced itself upon him—before he was completely prepared.

"Where's the next file?" wondered Asuka, stretching her arms over her head once the Maeda boy had gone.

"It's here," said Hyūga, and he slid the matched pair of folders over to Shinji and Asuka deliberately and with care.

"What, no creepy fifteen-second rundown of every aspect of this kid's life from birth to this morning? You know, it's a little unsettling how much you know about these people, or to think how much Seele must've known about us."

"There is little that is truly outside our capabilities, yes, so I do know quite a bit about the girl you're going to meet shortly, but I won't insult either of you by telling you what you may already know."

Asuka frowned at that, and she flipped through her folder anxiously, finding the cover photo at the beginning of the file. She winced at the image, looking ill.

"You know this person?" asked Shinji.

Nodding meekly, Asuka slid the collection of documents to him. "See for yourself."

The girl in the photo had straight dark hair, tied high on her head into a ponytail that stopped around her shoulders. Her expression was blank, and while something about her nagged at him as familiar, he couldn't place her.

"Didn't you meet her?" said Asuka. "Hm, maybe you didn't. Well, look at her name."

Shinji glanced at the opposite page, reading the top line. " 'Candidate number 00914286 - Date of birth: 2004-03-15 - Name: Horaki Nozomi.' " He met Asuka's gaze. "Her sister?"

"I've not talked to her much," Asuka explained. "When I stayed with Hikari, her little sister didn't come out very often. The hell is this, Hyūga? You and Misato of all people should know what happened to Suzuhara and how that affected Hikari. You're going to make her go through all that worrying again as a pilot's sister now, too?"

"She's a qualified candidate," said Hyūga. "I urge you both to consider her fairly in spite of any personal connection to her and her family."

Such words were easily said, but it was difficult advice to follow. Asuka looked upon the file folder with a pained and sickened expression, and Shinji shared some of her discomfort. Though Shinji hadn't seen Tōji and Hikari for some months, he counted both of them as close friends. Hikari had sacrificed her time and energy to tend to Tōji after he lost his leg. That trial had drained and distracted her. It sapped her of her commanding presence in distributing cleaning assignments and other tasks, leaving only a soft-spoken, wounded shell behind. That was over two years ago, granted, but to Shinji, the memory was fresh and new. While Asuka frowned over Nozomi's file and life details, Shinji looked over a copy of his own and came to a resolution: he'd do all he could to protect Hikari and her family from further trauma, and he'd give the youngest Horaki sister, Nozomi, all the wisdom he could to help keep that promise.

As with most of the other candidates, however, Shinji had too few minutes to prepare for meeting Nozomi and the rest of Hikari's family. An SDF guard showed the group of four into the conference room, and it was a bittersweet reunion, considering the circumstances. Asuka embraced Hikari, trying to be as apologetic and assuring as possible, but Hikari only nodded absently, stunningly calm about the whole affair.

"I won't pretend I'm happy with this," she admitted. "You have to understand—Nozomi's just a child. She's not prepared for this sort of thing. It'll be painful and dangerous, and Nozomi's just not ready for that. She's not like the way we were when you two were piloting Eva. Everything we've done as a family since then has been to shield ourselves from that burden."

And that much Shinji could appreciate. How far had he gone to get out of the spotlight, to avoid cameras and attention to live his life the way he wanted? Still, Hikari's concern wasn't shared with all the family. By the end of the table sat a man in glasses with steel frames, and he scribbled diligently on a notepad while Shinji, Asuka, and Hyūga talked. This was the father of the Horaki family, and Shinji read in the file that he was an earnest reporter for one of the few newspapers left after Impact.

"Horaki-san, your insistence on performing your job is admirable," said Hyūga, as he motioned for two guards to confiscate Horaki's pad, "but we're not here to have you run another exposé on sex scandals within a high school baseball team."

"I don't do sports anymore, Captain, and I think you know that," said Horaki. "I think the people have a right to know what you and Colonel Katsuragi are doing to safeguard mankind—or at least what the two of you are doing after hours."

Hyūga narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps you could tell us what your feelings are on your daughter being a potential Eva pilot?"

Horaki opened his coat jacket, looking for extra notepads to no avail. "I have no concern about it. Nozomi will do as she pleases. I'm sure she has an opinion on the matter. Nothing I say would change that. I work afternoons and evenings well into the night, Captain. My articles are what I'm qualified to speak to. Everything else I leave to Hikari and Kodama. It's best that way. Whether Nozomi pilots or not doesn't bother me in the slightest. You understand?"

Captain Hyūga jotted that down on his clipboard deliberately, much to Horaki's chagrin. It seemed an interesting point, one that Shinji couldn't quite fathom. How could a father be truly indifferent to what his daughter did? Was it that he had so much confidence in Nozomi's ability to choose that he felt comfortable either way? No, Shinji didn't think so. All throughout the interview with the family, Horaki seemed distracted and outright inattentive. Shinji wasn't sure just what was going through the man's mind.

Last in the family interviews was the eldest sister, Kodama. Aged twenty-one, she had attended culinary school in Nagoya before Third Impact, in the resulting chaos after mankind's reemergence, she had returned to her family's home as a caretaker, practicing her skills under a mentor at a local hotel during the day while serving her family at night. Despite her profession, she had a cold, demanding feeling to her, and gaze was as tight and precise as the braided ponytail on the back of her head. Her opinions weren't much different, either.

"Of course Nozomi should pilot," she'd said simply. "That's the problem with people in this world. They want others to bear hardships, not themselves." She looked to Hikari. "The girl can't be coddled endlessly. She needs to show that she can grow up and take on a task even if it doesn't agree with her. Show responsibility. Show courage. Anything else will only lead to this Eisheth gaining a little ground on humanity, if only by our indifference."

Shinji had felt the weight of those duties, and he himself had run away from them more than once, so how could he ask that anyone else face them boldly and without hesitation? It was natural to hesitate. It was natural to find it frightening, yet Kodama couldn't see that.

All throughout these opinions, the prospective pilot, Nozomi, had said nothing, not even looking at Shinji or the rest of the interview panel. At times, she'd stared at the walls and corners, but more than once Shinji looked her way and found her looking back at him with an intense, scrutinizing gaze. Most people knew who he was and recognized him as soon as they laid eyes on each other, but few bothered to watch him once they'd realized who he was.

Despite Nozomi's unsettling stare, Shinji listened closely while Hyūga interviewed her. The rest of the family had cleared the room while Hyūga asked some basic questions about her school, her grades.

"I passed my last math test," she said flatly. "I don't know much about my classmates. I don't find many of them interesting."

"Why not?" asked Hyūga.

"They mostly all think the same way. They do problems the way the teacher instructs them to. They watch films like Nobi and see Private Tamura, the last of his Imperial platoon, wander into the fires on the plains of the Philippines, and when he falls over under the Filipinos' gunfire, they all think he must've died to giving in to his own cowardice, that he wandered there to out of helplessness and despair. I don't believe that. I think he was still looking for a way to escape, and he knew that only a Filipino bullet would do the trick. I'm not saying I'm right, but if almost everyone believes the same thing mindlessly, it leaves a lot of room for too many people to be wrong."

Hyūga nodded, writing down a summary on his clipboard. "So if I said most of the children who come in here want to pilot Eva, what would you say to that?"

"I'd say they're fools. Maybe some of them have their heads on straight, but how many are looking for fame and glory? Too many, right? Those are the people who haven't learned anything. Just because you save the world doesn't mean people will recognize what you've done." She nodded at Shinji. "You know that, don't you?"

Shinji gaped, saying nothing.

"Or maybe you know it so well you know better than to speak at all," said Nozomi, frowning. "You ask me if I want to pilot? Let me ask you—what do I have that makes me good for this? I'm the right age? I've never been interested in fighting, and it's so easy to lose something in trying. I know what happened with Hikari and her boyfriend. Look at you, Ikari. You fought, and how do people treat you? Not like a hero. People even go out of their way to take shots at you. I don't think they told you about that when you signed up for it, did they?"

"No, they didn't," said Shinji. "My father didn't even tell me why I was coming to Tōkyō-3."

Nozomi blinked in surprise and sat upright, curious. "So you started piloting because of your father?"

Shinji pursed his lips. It was difficult, yes, to dredge up these memories and bring them to the surface of his thoughts, but his pain could save this girl much more in the long run. Really, his memories and experiences were the guidance he'd come to offer, and he would be remiss to keep silent any longer.

"Yes," said Shinji. "I came to Tōkyō-3 because my father asked me to, and I wanted to feel needed. My father sent me away after my mother died. I thought, finally, I could prove to him I was worth something, that I could be a son to him after all."

"That's pathetic." Nozomi's eyes flashed instantly as she realized what she said. "Ah, not you. People, I mean. People do things thinking others will notice them and judge them correctly when they don't."

"That's why some people want to kill me?"

"I guess so. You can't expect anyone else to do what you want them to do. If those people want to go live in the sea, they can. I wouldn't try to stop them. All you did was give everyone the choice before we were irreversibly made into a single, mind-merged thing. If people don't appreciate that, then they don't know what's good for them. You were a kid then. You were a kid like me, and I screw up all the time. No one should want you dead for that."

"To be honest," he said, "I don't blame anyone for thinking I did some things wrong back then. I did have a part in bringing about Third Impact. I wanted everyone and everything in this world to go away, to leave me alone. Ayanami gave me the power to do that, and I'm glad she did. Only that way could I realize that I was wrong, that that inability to interact with others, to risk being hurt by them, wouldn't give me any joy at all. Still, it cost a lot for me to see that. My father's gone now, and I don't know if he'll ever come back. All I can do is try not to make those mistakes again, even if no one in the world notices. I know what we're doing is right, and that's what's important. I can hope that doing things differently will help change the legacy I've left behind, but that would be a luxury—a luxury I might not earn, and if I don't, that's okay. I just do the best I can."

Nozomi's mouth hung open slightly, but she said nothing, and it was only the rapping of Captain Hyūga's pen that roused everyone else in the room.

"Nozomi-chan," he said, "it's time to answer the big question: do you want to pilot Evangelion?"

She looked between Shinji and Asuka carefully, considering her words. "Honestly, before I came into this room, I thought I didn't. I know what it's done to Hikari and her boyfriend. It would be painful and difficult and without reward. And as Ikari just said, you can go in thinking it will prove something and realize that's just not true. So, no, I didn't think I was interested."

Hyūga nodded at that. "We'll keep records of this transcript and profile in case you chase your mind or the situation changes. We thank you for your cooperation. The guards outside will take you back to your family."

Nozomi nodded, and she watched Shinji through the corner of her eye as she left. That much Shinji took as a good sign—to see someone take his advice and make an informed, reasonable decision, based on their feelings and how piloting Eva would affect them was truly encouraging, and he gave the same speech or something similar to it to all the subsequent candidates. Some decided to pilot anyway; others turned away better informed. Either way, the pool of pilots was better for it.

Nevertheless, these children were their own people, and they had a great capacity to surprise him.

As the day wound down, Shinji was given a pile of synch test results to look over, for all the candidates who'd accepted the chance to pilot Eva had been put into the entry plug to assess their initial abilities. And none other than Horaki Nozomi, with a first-day synch ratio of 36%, had claimed the top of the rankings.

"Ah, you're wondering why she's there, right?" asked Hyūga, catching Shinji's surprise. "It seems she changed her mind. She demanded that she speak to me, and she said, 'I still think it'll be without reward, but I realize now not everyone will understand that. If what I've figured out makes me even one percent better at piloting than someone else, then I have to try. I have an obligation to try because I don't want to see us reduced to goo again.' " Hyūga laughed to himself. "Well, not the kind of speech I expect from a second-year in junior high school, but I'm glad she reconsidered. With scores like these, she could very well be the next pilot."

And if she did end up on that path, it would be because Shinji had guided her, not just to realize her own inadequacies but to find a way to look past them and aspire to something better, something he'd never been capable of at her age himself.

#

Nozomi wasn't the only pilot candidate, of course, and thanks in large part to his initiative in the interviews, Misato arranged for Shinji to take up a position in the new Eva program as a mentor of sorts, an advisor and counselor to the children, so that the potential defenders of the human race could learn from his experience, his trials, and his mistakes.

At first, Shinji approached this new task with dedication. After months of searching for Rei and finding her at last, he didn't mind the chance to do something meaningful with his life during the day. Every morning, he made his commute to National Square and boarded the tram under the Defense Ministry, and after navigating the maze of corridors and elevators, he'd find his way to his office—a single, spacious room with a handcrafted desk, a computer, and an endless supply of paper, pens, and staples for him to use. In that room with "Special Assistant to the Colonel" engraved on the door's nameplate, he interviewed the other pilot candidates—about twenty in all—and reviewed their progress on a daily basis. In the mornings, he'd analyze the candidates' test scores from the afternoon and evening before. At noon, he'd take time off to deliver lunches to Asuka and Kyōko, for the Sōryū family was once again quite busy, this time with new funding for their work. Misato and her men were eagerly co-opting their research to build biological LCL detectors and filters, so that if even trace amounts of LCL penetrated the water supply, it would be found and weeded out.

"It's the perfect defense against the Zenunim," Misato had explained to him. "The only way they're going to sneak up on us is if they try to get into the water to go place to place. If they come over land, we'll be ready for them. Even a good grenade or two can damage them enough so they don't reform. The defense of planet Earth is ongoing, Shinji-kun. It didn't end when the Zenunim moved on to bide their time in the ocean, and it won't suddenly pick back up when Eisheth's children from space arrive en masse to take us all into her sickly paradise. This is about more than just using Eva to beat her back. We have to make sure people feel safe as long as we can."

Knowing that, Shinji wondered if it was any small surprise that Asuka and Kyōko's research proved so integral to this defense effort. Maybe Misato had orchestrated it that way to keep people she trusted in control. In the hands of a more unscrupulous person, such manipulations could be very dangerous indeed.

Thankfully, Shinji thought to himself, Misato-san is on our side.

In the afternoons, Shinji had the task of seeing to the pilot candidates, who had a staggered schedule to come in for testing and simulations, but from time to time the tests would run long, and Shinji would do his best to keep the children company while they were waiting for their turn in the Eva. Almost to a man, the children were cognizant of the weight of what they were doing. Some of them viewed the role of pilot as a true honor and treated their duties with reverence and respect. Others felt burdened by it, and Shinji took careful notes on them, in case he had to report to Misato that they should be removed from the program before they succumbed to the stress.

The only outlier in the group was the young Horaki girl, Nozomi. Despite her earnest plea to Hyūga to let her back into the program, Nozomi kept any eagerness to pilot to herself while Shinji was around, exuding an air of objective indifference. Her attitude puzzled Shinji, but he found her without a doubt an intelligent girl, and he tried to use that to engage her and explore her attitudes toward what she was doing. For the most part, Nozomi spent her spare time on art and studying how it would be perceived, whether biologically or psychologically. Still, she was conversant on a number of topics, and when she questioned him one day on politics—how he would appease the Russians and Chinese over Japan having the only Eva in the region—Shinji was frankly at a loss. He seldom paid attention to such things, even given the obvious relevance to what they were doing, to the defense of mankind.

"You really haven't thought about it?" asked Nozomi. "Here I thought you guys had some master plan to share piloting duties with them or something, so that way they'd be put at ease. You could have a Chinese pilot and a Russian pilot. Maybe even a Korean pilot if they insist on it. You don't think that would help?"

"It might," admitted Shinji, "but it's really not my concern. Misato-san probably has an idea about that, I'm sure. I'm just here to look after the pilots."

"That's all you do?"

"Um, yes?"

Nozomi snorted—a definitively unladylike sound—but Shinji suspected she wouldn't be very concerned about that, and as she'd often done while waiting for her testing time, she pulled out a drawing pad from her school bag and started to sketch. Nozomi's pencil drawings were, as she'd put it, mostly scenes from her day. When Shinji'd asked why she wanted to keep a record that way—why not keep a diary instead—she explained herself simply.

"When I look at one of these sketches, I remember everything right away," she'd said. "I don't even have to check the date. I don't have to read anything to figure out what my state of mind was that day. People forget so much, day in and day out, but I don't." She offered the pad to him. "Pick a page, any page, and I can tell you whatever you want to know."

Shinji took her up on that offer, flipping through the pages, and he stopped on a drawing of a short-haired boy who looked to be giving a lecture in front of a group of his fellow students.

"The president of the school Art Club has an intense love for Sōtatsu," Nozomi explained. "You probably don't know him. He did fan painting and screen work in the Tokugawa period, so yes, a junior high school Art Club president is giving daily lectures over the infinite wisdom and mastery of an artist who died almost four hundred years ago. The boy is half out of his mind!"

"You're in this sketch," Shinji observed. "You're sitting right next to him. You decided to draw this like you were at the other end of the table, facing him instead?"

"Yeah. It would've been awkward, trying to capture him standing up from a seated position with my perspective. It would've made him look larger than life, and that's the last thing he needs. He made me vice-president of the club, and I'm just a second-year. How does that make sense?"

"It makes enough sense if he's not just interested in seventeenth-century art."

"What do you mean by that?"

Shinji pursed his lips, suppressing a smile, but he said nothing more on that. Instead, it was Nozomi who had a question for Shinji.

"That stuff you said about your father," she began, "is it true?"

"Yes, every word. I didn't understand it at the time. He gave me a choice to be the pilot or to go away and watch someone else do it instead. That was Ayanami. I'd like to think I took her place because she was in pain, because I thought I had to or no one else could, but I don't know. Maybe I did it just to impress Father instead. Maybe the truth is somewhere in the middle."

"You don't talk like someone who helped bring about the end of the world," said Nozomi. "Or like someone whose decision brought us all back."

"I don't know what that person is supposed to be like," said Shinji. "I just know who I am and what I've tried to do."

"I see. You're not quite the hero people make you out to be, are you?"

"Does anyone live up to those types of expectations?" asked Shinji.

To that, Nozomi had no answer, and with her silence, Shinji saw something all too familiar—a faraway stare, a person lost in reflection and thinking. Throughout this process, Shinji had endeavored to tell all his candidates the honest truth as he saw it: this task was important but unglamorous, and none of them should think any differently about it, but perhaps he'd tried too hard not to sugarcoat things. Maybe he should've been doing something to give these children confidence and empower them instead. His intentions were good, but that didn't make his actions the right course. In the end, these children were going to struggle with the toll that piloting Eva would exact on their minds, and Shinji would be there to watch every second of it.

Over the span of several weeks training these children and evaluating their progress, some of the candidates dropped out, citing pressure from competition with the other pilots or tensions in their families as the stress and time commitment grew too difficult to ignore. Some of them experienced visions from their contacts with the Eva, and Shinji was hard-pressed to explain these phenomena in simple terms. What exactly were these children making contact with? The soul of someone locked away in the core of the Eva? The twisted mind of a beast? Some combination of the two? These were technical questions, and he did his best not to speculate on them. Some of the children reacted badly to that presence, whatever it was, even though they'd tolerated it well at first. Even the ones who didn't leave the program had to struggle with it. Some dared to speak to Shinji about their experiences—how sitting in the Eva, they recalled distant memories they thought they'd forgotten, perhaps of someone dear to them long since dead. The rest bottled these experiences away, none more than young Horaki Nozomi.

Though Nozomi stayed on as a candidate, her promising early scores soon plummeted. Shinji tried to press her on whether something might be weighing on her—trouble at school or at home—but there was an emotional wall between them that only her sarcastic observations on humanity seemed to pass through. Nevertheless, Shinji had an obligation to look after her, not only as a candidate under his care but as a friend to Hikari, but despite his best efforts, he couldn't find anything obvious that might've unsettled her. She'd had to cut down on her school activities, yes, but that was unavoidable, and Hikari made sure to walk Nozomi to the Defense Ministry every afternoon, but unlike some of the other candidates' family members, she never stayed around for Nozomi's tests. As far as Shinji could tell, she'd wait around for Nozomi in the Square instead, even well past dusk if need be, with only the trickling of the central fountain to keep her company. Shinji had seen her more than once waiting there while he was on his way home, yet as alone as she looked, he couldn't bring himself to say anything.

And that was all just the affairs of one girl—one candidate to worry over. Even with some of the children dropping out, he still had over a dozen to consider. It was a daunting task, one he couldn't have grasped fully when Misato proposed the idea, and as much as he wanted to do something to help mankind rise up against Eisheth, he wondered whether his efforts to guide the children were nearly enough.

At the end of each day at the base, Shinji would return home. His workdays ended late, typically an hour or two before midnight, but that suited him fine, for it matched up with Asuka's tendency to work until she dropped. Still, she'd forced herself to mitigate that habit. Knowing what dangers Shinji had faced on the train from Odawara while she and her mother had been safe in a shelter changed Asuka's outlook for the better, and she made sure to come home for a late dinner each night. It was an opportunity for both of them to wind down and discuss their work. As it turned out, Asuka would usually be too worn out to go into details with her problems, so she'd act mostly as a sounding board for Shinji to work out what he was seeing with the children instead. In response to his growing concerns that they were having a difficult time of it, Asuka wasn't too worried as yet.

"Give it time," she said blithely, savoring a plate of homemade apple curry. "Not everyone can jump into an Eva and save the capital in fifteen minutes."

Shinji chuckled nervously at that. "I didn't have to do very much for that, though. I just feel over and acted as a training dummy until the Eva took over. The hard part came later—living with it, day in and day out."

"You always did worry about things like that." She pursed her lips, thinking for a minute. "Not to say you were wrong to. But really, what else can you do? Tell them how it's going to be, and the best candidate will pick herself. You're not there to make everyone into a pilot. We just need one, maybe two to have a backup. That's it. Easy as pie. You're doing a fine job with these kids, Shinji. I don't even know half their names, but you? You've memorized their files. If I ask you what score candidate number fifteen got in simulated combat last Tuesday, you know the answer. Every day, I see you trying to find something new to say to these kids so they can succeed. You've really taken this job to heart. It makes me want to say to people, 'Hey, you know my boyfriend? He's helping choose the person who'll save the world.' Well, if I wouldn't get jailed or shot for blabbing about that, anyway. Trust me, you're doing just fine."

It was a real comfort to hear her say that, and it reminded Shinji that just as the candidates needed more than just his honesty but his willingness to show confidence in them, he needed the exact same thing from time to time. And these days, he was looking for it from Asuka, who could actually give it to him, and not from his father who wouldn't or couldn't show him more than token approval a handful of times.

After dinner that night, Shinji dealt with the dishes while Asuka retired to the bedroom, and given that she'd shed her labcoat and socks before she was halfway down the hall, Shinji had a fairly good idea of what she had in mind for the rest of the evening, but still, it was his responsibility to clean off every last trace of curry sauce before putting everything away.

Were it not for that, he and Asuka might already have been in bed by the time the apartment phone rang.

"Yes, hello?" answered Shinji.

"My apologies for ringing at this time of night, sir; this is the door," said the building doorkeeper on the other end of the line. "There is a young lady here to see you. She says her name is Horaki? I know you prefer not to speak to visitors, sir, but she tells me you're acquainted?"

"We might be. Could you describe her?"

"Ah, let me see—young girl, about thirteen or fourteen, stands between 155 and 160 centimeters, with her hair tied off in a short ponytail."

"I see. Did Nozomi-chan say what this is about?"

"I'm afraid not, sir, but she was very insistent."

That was definitely Nozomi's style—if she wanted something, she would press to get it. But what could she want at almost a quarter to midnight? For her to even be out that time of night must surely have worried the rest of her family.

Whatever the issue was, it was critical enough for Nozomi to pound on Shinji's door as soon as she reached his floor. If he and Asuka had had neighbors, Shinji would've worried about the commotion. As it was, he did his best to assure Nozomi as he made his way to the threshold. "Coming!" he said, and he undid the array of locks and latches that kept them both safe from the outside world.

SMACK!

Only for that world to reach out and slap him across the cheek for his trouble.

"You lying bastard!" shouted Nozomi. "I trusted you because I thought you were telling it to me straight, but you didn't do that! You didn't tell me some thing could come into my head and haunt me in my dreams!"

Cradling his cheek, Shinji eyed Nozomi from head to toe. She was far from the crisp and clean girl he usually saw. Her hair was unkempt, and the green hairband that she used to keep her ponytail in place was loose and ineffective. She'd come to his door in little more than a short-sleeved top and spotted pajama pants, and instead of shoes, she wore indoor slippers. Her bloodshot eyes teared up even as she watched him with a trembling stare.

"You met her," Shinji realized. "You met Eisheth."

She nodded, and with that confession, her anger and resolve melted away. Unsteady on her feet, she drifted into the apartment. Her knees buckled, and Shinji caught her, easing her down to the floor. Her labored, shuddering breaths gave way to sobs, and she curled into a ball, burying herself in a corner for protection and solace.

"Nozomi-chan, just listen to my voice, okay?" said Shinji. "She's not here now. She won't touch you here. Repeat after me now. 'My thoughts are mine.' Can you say that?"

Sniffling, Nozomi wiped away at her tears, and with heavy breaths, she repeated his mantra. "My thoughts are mine," she mumbled. "My thoughts are mine; my thoughts are mine."

In little more than a skimpy yellow nightgown, Asuka tip-toed quietly to the door, carrying a tray with three cups of tea. Shinji took one for himself, and though she was still shaky, Nozomi took a cup with both hands and sipped.

"You know," said Asuka, "Eisheth had the nerve to try to get into Shinji's head, too."

Nozomi nodded. "She told me something like that."

"Then what she probably didn't say that Shinji told her to fuck herself, and anyone else can do the same! So whatever she tried to show you, don't be fooled. She isn't as powerful as you might think; you're safe here. Just tell us what happened."

Sitting back, Nozomi rested her head on the wall and closed her eyes. "I was dreaming. I thought I was in one of the elevators on the base with Hikari, and we were talking, but she wasn't talking the way she usually would. She was harsh and cold, always staring at me, and every time I looked at her, she'd be wearing something different—like I couldn't really see what she looked like at all."

"What did she say to you?" asked Shinji.

Nozomi shied away. "I don't want to talk about that."

"You don't have to listen to her. Whatever she said, about people inevitably hurting each other—it's not true. I don't believe that, and you shouldn't either."

Asuka drew in a sharp breath, giving Shinji a stern look. "Nozomi-chan, can I ask you a different question? I admit, I haven't put it all together because I can only go off what Shinji tells me, but I have to ask—what are you doing here? It's got to be at least fifteen minutes to get here from your place. Shinji and I are happy to help and all, even…" She winced. "Even when it's almost midnight, but why come to us? Why not talk to Hikari or the rest of your family? There's a reason you didn't want to talk to them about this, isn't there?"

Nozomi sighed in weariness and frustration. "Yeah. Eisheth talked to me about my sisters, about my father. She said, 'Why do you keep looking for validation from people who won't give it?' She said that was the flaw of flesh and blood, that people can't recognize each other's accomplishments, and I was a fool for wanting that." She met Shinji's gaze. "I should've listened to you, to that story about your father, but I didn't. I thought it was just a good thing to do, entering the pilot program, is that why I did it? No. Hikari has been treating me like a child ever since our mother died. Kodama is bitter because she's had to put aside her dreams to keep the family stable. Father spends so much of his time at the office, and he just doesn't care what happens to us. Do you know what he was doing when we got home? We'd been separated all night because he was at the office, and the first words out of his mouth were, 'Kodama, where did you hide my potato sticks?' Can you believe that? So why should I want those people to notice me? Why should I care what they think?"

Perhaps there was no good answer to those questions, no logical reason to seek recognition from people who'd never recognized her before, but they were family, and Nozomi knew that. She must've, Shinji reasoned, or else she never would've bothered to search for a reason at all.

Over the course of half an hour, Shinji and Asuka did what they could to shelter Nozomi and calm her down. Shinji kept her close by, engaging her with simple tasks to keep her mind off things, like having her help with washing the silverware and dishes.

"Some hosts you two are," Nozomi quipped in amusement as she rubbed a knife clean with a rag. "Making me help you with cleaning. You guys use Western silverware?"

"Asuka's more comfortable with it, so we keep at least one set handy," Shinji explained.

Nozomi frowned to herself, looking at her reflection in the metal of a knife. "You know, if Kodama catches anyone touching her set of kitchen knives, she loses it. They were a gift from her mentor, and he didn't come back after Third Impact, so it's like they stand in for what she had before then. They're her most precious keepsakes, and no one else should use them. It's like we'd get them dirty if we even breathed on them. She never shows that kind of concern for anyone alive."

It was one thing to get Nozomi steady and calm, but it was quite another to resolve the problems she faced, ones that were reminiscent of his own in the past. Ultimately, Nozomi had to go back home, but she didn't have to go and confront her family alone. To give what aid he could, Shinji called a cab and accompanied her. This, too, was part of his duties, a part he faced with trepidation and uncertainty. Though he wanted to assure Nozomi that things could change in her family, he knew too well that sometimes they didn't. Asuka had grown up a lot in the last two years, sure, but she'd had help doing it, in both him and her mother. As Shinji rode through those deserted, dark streets, he looked to the horizon. The capital was far from the ocean, but Shinji felt like he could see waves breaking on shore all too clearly. Nozomi had deceived herself, saying one thing but wanting another in piloting, just as Shinji had done, as others like her would do again and again. For all Shinji's efforts, perhaps all he'd accomplished was to see children like Nozomi repeat his mistakes, in spite of his best intentions, for he was ill-equipped to truly change their course.

Such gloomy thoughts festered in Shinji's mind, and he couldn't deny there was an element of truth to them, but to let them stand unopposed would've been foolish and cynical. No one would learn—and nothing would change—if people didn't try. That was what made them different from Eisheth in viewpoint and ideas, and Shinji did his best to keep that thought solid and fresh in his mind as he and Nozomi journeyed toward her home. The Horaki family lived in a comfortable condominium about fifteen minutes from Shinji and Asuka, and it was the same twentieth-floor abode that they'd lived in since before Third Impact came. Thus, their building with the brick façade around ground level was familiar to him, as was the iron knocker under their room number and nameplate. Shinji rapped twice on the door, and the response was exactly as he expected.

"Thank goodness!" cried Hikari, taking Nozomi into her arms. "I was so scared, just thinking what could happen to you out there at this time of night!" She looked to Shinji. "I'm so sorry she had to come bother you."

"It's really no trouble," said Shinji.

"Still, I apologize on Nozomi's behalf for her imposing on you. Thank you again for seeing that she got home safe. Is your taxi still waiting downstairs, or can we call you another?"

"Actually, I think there's something I need to stay here for, something Nozomi-chan wants to say, too."

A look of worry came over Hikari's face, but she allowed Shinji inside. The girls' father was waiting for them in the main room, idly flipping through channels on the television and muttering to himself about possible stories for the next day.

"Ah, you're back?" he said. "Good. Let's all get back to bed, then, shall we? It's dreadfully late."

"Actually, it seems Nozomi has something she wants to talk about," said Hikari. "Sister, can you come out here, too, please?"

Wearily, Kodama stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands with a rag. "You know I've got something on the stove right now. Really, if we're going to talk about Nozomi's nightmares, can't we do it on something more than an empty stomach?"

"This isn't about nightmares," said Nozomi. "This is about our family. Please, all of you, just listen to me this one time. I've been doing this piloting thing for the better part of three weeks now, and every time we talk about it, it's the same old song. Hikari, you don't want to even bring up the subject because it reminds you how your boyfriend was hurt, and you keep trying to look for excuses for me to quit. Kodama, you never think what I'm doing is good enough, and if I say that I found something difficult or that my scores or slipping, you question me! You say I'm not dedicated enough, that I have to stop being so selfish! And you, Dad—you treat it with the same level of interest as watching paint peel off a wall in the sun. You say, 'Ah, that's nice,' and then it's right off to talk about governments and politicians, all the stuff you're interested in. I'm sick of it! I know I'm not an adult, but I'm a bigger girl than I was when Mom died, okay? I'm taking this job seriously, and even if it's not important to you, it's important to me. I just want all of you to recognize that. I believe you guys can. When that thing tried to get into my head, I told her that same thing, and maybe part of it was to be stubborn, to fight back against her, but I feel it, too. So please, do you understand me now?"

The room was quiet for a time, with only Nozomi looking between her two sisters and her father. Hikari shied away from her, visibly wounded. "I haven't been looking for ways to make you quit," she insisted weakly. "But you're right—it hurts me to see you piloting that thing. Knowing what happened to Asuka, to Tōji-kun, I worry. Every second you're in that thing, it's like a tiny piece of you dies inside. That's what I worry about, Nozomi—that you won't come back the same. You're my little sister; it's my responsibility to protect you, and if I'd had my way, you wouldn't have been allowed to pilot in the first place. This is dangerous, and you're still too young to be making these kinds of decisions for yourself."

Kodama huffed. "There you go again, Hikari. What's Nozomi asking for right now? To be treated like a big girl? Well, that's easy to do. Nozomi, you shouldn't need anyone's approval—not Hikari's, not mine, not Father's. Whatever you do, it should be because you're behind it completely. You don't need to prove anything to me. Prove it to yourself."

At a loss for how to follow that up, Horaki put his pen and pad down and tried to work through his confusion aloud. "I know I've been a busy man, and that's cost me the chance to be more like a father to you. There's not a lot I can do to change that now except give advice where it's needed. Nozomi, it doesn't matter to me whether you pilot that thing or not. Do you really want my drive-by opinion in the first place?"

"Maybe not," said Nozomi. "Maybe I was wrong to ask anything of all of you. Excuse me." She made for the hallway.

"Ah, Nozomi-chan!" said Shinji.

But he was far too late. Nozomi ran for her room and locked the door behind her without another word.

#

Not wanting to intrude any more on the Horaki family, Shinji headed downstairs to the building lobby, where, as usual, he raised a green hood and put on a pair of sunglasses to hide his identity from the public.

"You can never be too careful these days, can you, sir?" That was the security guard on duty, a genial man with a slight belly who worked a newspaper number puzzle to pass the time. He sat at a reception desk and only glanced at Shinji briefly before looking back at his puzzle.

"Careful?" asked Shinji, taking a seat in the corner.

"Bright lights." The guard touched a finger to the corner of his eye.. "They give my son headaches, too. Must be terrible. How long have you had them?"

Shinji chuckled nervously. It was probably better to let the guard think that than to explain the real reason. "A couple years now."

"You need someone called to pick you up?" asked the guard. "A cab, maybe?"

"Ah, if it's no trouble…"

"Not at all."

It was nice not to have to worry about one thing, but getting back home was the least of his worries. Twenty floors above him, Nozomi had faced her family and bravely expressed her desires only to be disappointed. That was no act of malice, or so he believed. All the Horaki family were good people, yet still there was an impossible gap between them. If Shinji could take comfort in something, it was that this gap had existed long before he'd ever met Nozomi and unknowingly encouraged her to pilot Eva. He could bear no blame for creating it, but still, Shinji felt helpless to do anything about it, at least right then and there. More than anyone else in the program, Nozomi was his responsibility. Even though he didn't understand it at the time, he'd persuaded her to be a pilot, to take up the task despite her initial doubts and skepticism.

But right then and there was probably not the time. Nozomi was in no state to be bothered further, at least not that night. Tomorrow, Shinji would take her aside and gauge how she was holding up—and if necessary, remind her that she didn't need to stay in the program, that she shouldn't if she was indeed looking to prove herself by piloting. That was the wisdom no one had given him when he was a pilot, and it was exactly the experience he could bring to the candidates as an advisor.

If he should even be the one advising these children at all.

Knock-knock-knock. Three dull thuds rattled the glass door to the lobby. Had Shinji lost track of time? Bewildered in his own thoughts, had he forgotten about his taxi and made the driver come out just to find him? Shinji rose from his seat, thinking so, but the gleam of a golden badge in the darkness quickly corrected him.

The security guard scribbled one last digit on his puzzle before picking up the phone beside him. He looked out to the door. "Officer, can you hear me? If you want to talk, it's just the black button in the top left. What can I do for you?"

The officer's voice was muffled through the glass, but Shinji could just make out his words. "We got a call that there was a disturbance in room 2048; something about a girl trying to harm herself. Need to check it out."

Room 2048, the Horaki apartment. Shinji cringed to hear it, and he could hardly believe that Nozomi would take what'd happened so hard, but if the policeman said it was true, it had to be so. It was just one more thing for him to regret.

The security guard hit an oversized red button on the wall and let the police officer in, and as the officer went for the elevators, Shinji rose from his seat.

"Excuse me, but you said you're going to 2048? I know the family there. Can I come with you?"

"I'm sorry," said the officer, "but for your own safety, I have to insist—" He frowned, studying Shinji. "You—you're wearing sunglasses." He glanced at the security guard, who was just returning to his seat by the wall opposite from Shinji. "In the middle of the night, too," mused the officer. "I see."

Shinji felt a knot inside him, and he moved back half a step. It was always uncomfortable to have anyone recognize him or come close to doing so, but something about the officer's piercing, critical stare unsettled him and made his heart beat fast.

"Officer, though you're right it's a bad idea for the boy to go with you, I feel I should come along," said the security guard. "Safety in this building is my responsibility. I had experience as a medic in SDF before Impact; if she's hurt, I can help."

"That won't be necessary." The officer waved the security guard off and put a hand on his hip, right next to his belt and holster. "I'm sure there's no need for anything but a little restoration of order here."

Shinji looked back at the officer, wanting to argue—what harm could it do if he stayed back and out of sight?—but a faint glow caught his eye. Past the security guard stood Rei, and her eyes were bright and red with earnestness and warning.

'Run, Ikari-kun. Do it now. Your life is in danger here.'

How could that be? With two officers of the peace to protect him there, what did he have to fear? The Zenunim? If they'd come back, Misato and her people would know. They had the technology for that.

'It's not Eisheth's children you should worry about. That man in front of you isn't a police officer.'

Not a police officer? But how could that be? The light blue color of his shirt—that couldn't be faked, could it? From the cherry blossom insignia on his vest to his sturdy belt to his gun—

All the hairs on Shinji's arms and neck stood on end. There was a man with a gun in that lobby, and he stood no more than an arm's length from Shinji.

'Go now,' said Rei. 'Run, Ikari-kun!'

As much as his mind told him to listen to Rei, his legs felt like cinderblocks, and all he could do was creep toward the lobby door while the guard continued to press the officer for information.

"Where's your partner?" asked the guard. "I've almost never seen a lone officer out on the beat, let alone taking a call."

"We're understaffed; that's all." The officer looked to Shinji. "Where are you going?"

"Um, nowhere?"

The officer nodded, saying nothing. He took a step toward the elevator—an act that seemed harmless for but a fleeting moment.

Then he whipped out his pistol and fired. BANG BANG BANG!

Shinji shuddered, and three red circles formed where the bullets had hit. His sweatshirt was undamaged, however, for the stains appeared on the security guard's plain white uniform, and the man staggered back behind his desk, stumbling to the floor.

Only then did adrenaline come to Shinji, and it propelled him like a rocket through the lobby door. The metal frame clashed against the hinges, and two more bullets shattered the glass, leaving channels of hot, disturbed air that brushed past Shinji's cheeks.

Shinji raced around the corner of the building façade, and he put his back to the wall, panting and listening. "Ayanami?" he cried. "Where should I go?"

'You're safe for now.'

Shinji looked back to see Rei at the top of the building's ten steps. She stared through the broken glass door, watching Shinji from just the corner of her eye. Curious, Shinji tip-toed up the stairs to join her, looking out from around the frame of the door. Inside, the fake officer stole the guard's stun gun and baton, leaving the body to soak in a small but growing puddle of blood. The fake officer pushed up on the elevator control panel, and when the lift arrived, he slipped inside. As he turned around to face forward, Shinji pulled away, lest he be seen, but the faux officer had one thing to say before the elevator doors closed.

"Yes, yes, call out to Lilith if you want, you misguided boy," he said, "but know that she won't save you or anyone who serves with you. She can't. Her contract with Eisheth forbids it."

A faint bell rang as the elevator rose to the next floor, and the man was gone.

Shinji trotted back into the lobby, and he knelt down beside the wounded security guard.

"No, no…" Even with three bullet holes in his chest, the guard shook his head, trying to send Shinji away, but he could do little more than blink weakly and groan. "You need to go, Ikari-san. If he comes back…"

"You knew who I was?" asked Shinji. "All the time, and you didn't say anything?"

The guard laughed, but his mirth turned to a fit of coughing. Still, he managed to eke out a few last words. "Who else would be so desperate to hide his face? But please, you have to go. I know who that man is after. It's not you. Room 2048—they don't like to go by their names, but I know. You know them, too. Hurry, kid. Hurry…."

With gulping, shuddering breaths, the security guard looked away, staring at the ceiling. There was truly nothing he could do for the man without compromising his duty and obligations to someone he was responsible for, someone whose life was in danger with every moment he took to stop and think. Eisheth couldn't have known he would be there. The fake officer had been surprised when he realized who Shinji was. He'd come for Nozomi. He'd come as part of Eisheth's promise—and threat—to anyone who opposed her.

Shinji raced to the elevators and jammed the up button, but the wait for the next car was maddening. He found a door to a stairwell instead and pushed it open.

"Don't," said Rei, staring him in the face. "You can't run up there in time to catch him. Be calm, Ikari-kun. Be patient. Don't panic."

Ding! The second elevator from the right opened its doors, and Shinji jammed both the 20 and door close button as hard as he could. "Is it true?" he demanded. "Eisheth's coming for Nozomi-chan? What about the others?"

Rei stepped in beside him. "Colonel Katsuragi will see to their safety. In five minutes, SDF personnel will be on scene at every candidate's home to evacuate them. I've made sure of it."

"That doesn't do a whole lot for Nozomi-chan right now!"

Rei's chin fell slightly in a grim nod. "No, it doesn't. That's why I've shown you here. Even without weapons, you can do something to help save one person, and I know that capacity is within you."

Ding, went the elevator. Floor three, floor five, floor six…

"How?" Shinji demanded. "How can I do that? With my own body as a shield against a gun? Nothing I told Nozomi-chan or anyone else really helped them. Nothing I did helped them avoid what I went through; it's all happening again, almost exactly the same way!"

"Because they must learn the same lessons you did," said Rei. "They are children. Children must learn to understand their parents, their families. You, Ikari-kun—you are not a child anymore. You are like a parent to them. What you must learn is that your children will not always succeed the first time they try to walk. Sometimes, they will fall flat on their faces and have an Angel beat them down for it."

Shinji shook his head, and hie took several shuddering breaths as he watched the lights above the elevator pass twelve and fourteen. "That doesn't help me. Tell me, Ayanami—what am I supposed to do?"

"I truly don't know the answer to that. Time and space are the same to me, but where Eisheth and I share influence, they are both equally unclear. The only thing I know with certainty in this moment is that you are the only one in position to help. I can't know if that's something you can do, but I believe you can."

Breathing through his mouth, Shinji prepared himself like a swimmer about to go halfway down an Olympic-sized pool underwater. Only gods could know what lay outside those rusty elevator doors as the car passed floors eighteen and nineteen on its way to twenty, and if even Rei couldn't tell him, then he would really be on his own to figure it out.

Ding, floor twenty, and Shinji peered out cautiously, glancing down both ends of the hall.

Crunch! Wood cracked and splintered. Shinji tip-toed to the corner, and four apartments down, he glimpsed the fake police officer bashing at the Horaki family's door with his shoulder.

Shinji looked about. He needed a weapon—he needed something to deal with this man—but what? There was a small, decorative table by the elevators, and maybe if he shattered some glass he could use the shards to cut and slash at the man, but as close as he'd have to get to the man, he couldn't help but think that would just get him killed.

'Look to your left.'

He glanced out of the corner of his eye, finding a glass case and a sturdy red canister almost as long as his arm.

"Ayanami, this doesn't count as us getting to talk," he said, taking out the fire extinguisher. "So that means I'm coming back from this, right?"

'I will permit nothing else.'

With a deep breath, Shinji turned the corner, pointing the nozzle of the extinguisher down the hall. He fumbled with the discharge lever, but when he got a hold of it and squeezed, a cone of white gas enveloped the fake police officer, blinding him.

BANG, BANG! Two stray shots ricocheted off the walls. Shinji retreated, backing off—all the man had to do was guess where Shinji might be and a stray bullet would do the rest. Shinji put his back to the wall around the corner, with the nozzle of the fire extinguisher in hand, but the false officer had other priorities.

CRUNCH, SNAP! The Horaki family's door gave way, and Shinji looked back around the corner to see the false officer climbing over boxes and tables that had been stuffed into the threshold.

"Hikari, go with your sister; both of you, hide out in her room!" cried Horaki from out of Shinji's sight. "Kodama—"

BANG!

And Horaki went silent. There was a scream and a thud, and Shinji ran to the broken door. Beyond set of boxes, chairs, and other furniture put in front of the door to slow the false officer down, Horaki lay crippled halfway down the entry hall, bleeding from a bullet wound to the thigh. Shinji climbed and maneuvered through the opening, a clumsy effort with the fire extinguisher slowing him down. When he reclaimed his footing, Shinji checked into the kitchen, where the eldest sister Kodama cradled her head, bleeding from a wound above of right eye.

"That man could've taken my eye, hitting me like that with his gun," muttered Kodama, struggling to her feet. "Go on; I'll tend to Father. Go, Ikari-san!"

With both hands on the extinguisher, Shinji went for the bedrooms, and once again, a locked door had the false officer briefly stymied. He kicked and shoved at the plain beige bedroom door, and Shinji decided to make it look a little whiter. He sprayed and sprayed at the false officer, covering the man in retardant residue.

"Nozomi-chan is my responsibility!" he cried, "and I won't let you hurt her or anyone else!"

CLANG! He bashed the false officer over the head with the bottom of the extinguisher, and the man tumbled on his back, stunned.

"Nozomi-chan, Hikari-san!" Shinji rapped on the bedroom door. "Come out; we have to go, now!"

The girls burst from Nozomi's room, scampering off in their pajamas, and for good measure, Shinji hurled the fire extinguisher at the false officer, smashing the man in the ribs. Shinji snatched up the man's pistol and watched him down the barrel of the gun as he and the girls fled.

Back by the threshold, Kodama vainly tried to clear the debris in front of the door for Hikari and Nozomi to pass through, but Nozomi stood transfixed over her father's wound.

"Nozomi, please," said Hikari, pulling on Nozomi's arm. "There could be others with that man; we need to get somewhere safe."

"And leave our father here? He'll die if we go!"

"I'm fine, really!" grunted Horaki, but he winced in pain and lay on his back, the bloodstain already spreading through his dress pants in an unsightly blotch. "A child should expect to see her father die, and that's okay because at some point, children have already learned everything they can from their parents. Nozomi, Hikari, Kodama—all of you know so much and do so well for yourselves on your own. Why should you ever listen to me when I'm gone writing articles and interviewing politicians more than half the time?" He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes tightly. "That's what I thought, anyway, but I'm still your father. I see that now. You're not wrong to want me to care. I do! I just never know what to say. At least I could admit that before I die."

"You're not dead yet!" cried Nozomi. "Hikari, get a sheet or something to carry him on. We need a bandage or something to stop the bleeding, right?"

Shinji took Nozomi by the shoulders, trying to catch her frantic eyes. "Nozomi-chan, please—Misato-san's men will be here soon. Eisheth isn't after your father, just you!"

"And if I can't protect my father from Eisheth, what is the point of anything I've been doing?" She looked to Hikari. "This all happened because of me. None of you asked for this to happen. I made this choice by myself, and I'm going to fix it, all right? I'm not going to force anyone else to suffer for it. Hikari, Kodama, if you want, go. I'll find something to get Dad out of here. You too, Ikari. Do whatever you like, but please, Hikari, don't argue with me anymore. This is exactly what I meant to do. I can put myself at risk if I believe in it. I just want you to believe in me, too."

Hikari pressed her lips together, looking at Nozomi pleadingly, but after a moment to consider Nozomi's words, she nodded twice to herself, even though she averted her gaze. "All this time, I just wanted to protect you, Nozomi. I didn't want you to go through the painful moments that I had to endure, but maybe I was wrong to do that. Maybe you're stronger and bolder than I ever was." She looked to the kitchen. "I'll find some rags to stem the bleeding. Sister, what about—"

Kodama held up a hand, interrupting her. "We're not alone," she said, putting down a box of photos and toys from the rubble and junk piled in front of the door.

Sure enough, the false officer emerged from the bedroom hall, brandishing the fire extinguisher that Shinji had used. With a mess of residue on his powder blue uniform, a fiery look in his eyes did away with any pretense of him being an officer of the law.

Shinji leveled the pistol on the man. He'd never fired a gun before, but he braced himself for recoil and an unbearable sound. "Step back," he warned the false officer. "I'll protect Nozomi-chan and her family no matter what."

"Go ahead," the false officer intoned. "Shoot me. I will die, and Eisheth will reward me for my service, my courage, as she rewards all who fight in her name! But the reward will be even greater if I claim Horaki Nozomi's life and then yours! Do you doubt that I'll do it? No, I think not." She stepped closer, raising the fire extinguisher overhead. "I'm vulnerable. You can shoot me in the heart if you're afraid. All creatures of flesh are afraid. You're no different, are you, Ikari Shinji?"

No, he wasn't. At most, he wasn't afraid to admit that he could feel fear, and because of that fear, he fingered the trigger of the pistol and pulled.

Click!

Shinji was fairly sure that wasn't supposed to happen.

Click-click!

The false officer grinned. "Every gun runs out of bullets eventually. Now, come to me and face your fate!"

CLANG! The officer clubbed Shinji with the extinguisher, smashing his shoulder. Shinji's arm tingled and went numb, and he crumpled over Horaki, the ringing through his body unbearable.

"No!" cried Hikari. "You can't hurt—"

CRACK! A quick backhand sent Hikari tumbling into the wall.

"Now, Horaki Nozomi, come and die," said the false officer, raising the extinguisher overhead once more. "Eisheth gives her word, as will I, that it will be as quick as can be."

Eyes wide with fright, Nozomi slid with her back against the corridor wall. She felt for a corner, and when she touched one, she bolted. The officer took two steps in chase, wrapped both hands around the extinguisher, and swung!

"YAH!"

CRASH! The extinguisher went through the wall, breaking a hole in the plaster. A body staggered there, but it wasn't Nozomi's. She was quite safe. Instead, the officer let out a short and sharp cry and felt at his chest, finding a kitchen knife sticking through his ribs…

And it was Kodama's hand that held it there.

"Don't kid yourself, jackass!" she cried. "What you're doing takes no courage. Nozomi is ten times—no, a hundred times—braver than you will ever be! She's willing to do something that a dozen good men could find terrifying beyond their wildest imaginings! What are you willing to do? It's easy to take a life. It is so much harder to risk your own." She forced the man to the floor, and though one of her eyes was half swollen shut as she did so, she smiled at Nozomi. "That's why I've never questioned your courage," she admitted. "I just thought you needed the chance to show it yourself."

#

Within five minutes, SDF members and medics arrived to secure the scene and tend to the wounded. Nozomi's father managed to stay conscious despite increasing blood loss, and Nozomi held his hand as the medics walked him out on a stretcher. Hikari was only bruised, and Kodama could still walk on her own, though the medics did insist that she get her eye checked out. As for Shinji, the medics improvised a sling for Shinji to wear after taking the brunt of an extinguisher to the shoulder, and he politely declined any further treatment in the meantime. Misato soon arrived in person, seeing that the Horaki family would be sequestered to Hachibuse Mountain and treated in the base infirmary.

But this bold attack from a follower of Eisheth wasn't the only one that took place that night. Though Nozomi had emerged unscathed, several of her family members had taken blows, and the other candidates had fared only somewhat better with SDF protection, as the followers of Eisheth had shoot into crowds or come at the children with shivs despite significant protection. Many children left the program, fearing for their lives, and even those families that hadn't been attacked largely followed, for the vision of Eisheth in a child's dreams could terrify anyone and frighten them into submission.

Yet that day was not entirely devoid of hope. In a time of desperation, young Horaki Nozomi had found the validation from her family that she was looking for in respect from both her sisters and love from her father, and when news of the other candidates' retractions reached her at the base, she made her feelings on the subject very clear.

"I won't criticize anyone else," she said, from her father's bedside as he lay resting, "but I know enough about what I should do from what I've seen and experienced today. What I went through is proof of the best and worst of humanity—how people can struggle to recognize what they want from each other—but when things get tough, do we lie down and let that overwhelm us? No. We can find it in ourselves to get past that, and if no one else can stand up to say that, then I will. I'll do it by piloting Eva."

And pilot she did. With her sisters in the command center, looking on in support, Nozomi climbed into the entry plug of the Eva once more. Shinji, too, watched from safety, glancing briefly between readouts of synch rates and vital signs. Alas, from that position, he could only imagine what was in Nozomi's mind—what relief, joy, and satisfaction she must've felt, knowing that her family was with her and behind her always. He would never know it for sure, but he could see and hear the results as the lead technician in the room counted upwards—first one percent, then two, then four, and in a few quick moments higher still, to sixteen, thirty-two, and finally, a synch ratio of just under sixty-three percent.

"Congratulations, Nozomi," said Misato, her voice reverberating through the intercom. "You're first pilot we've had to reach the combat-capable range. Well done."

The command center burst into applause. Kodama and Hikari embraced one another, and Shinji watched them all, taking in the moment. From then on, he could only be part of humanity's success or failure from this position and no closer—watching through a screen as Nozomi or someone like her held humanity's fate in their hands.

Once freed from the entry plug, the presumptive Sixth Child raced up from the cage to the command center, joining her sisters and bathing in the cheers of the command center staff. Shinji backed away from the spectacle, content to have had a hand in it and that all had turned out well, but with the pilot chosen in all but name, it was time for him to step back. The world would be safe in the hands of far more capable people—people who wouldn't cripple their charges with doubts and in an effort to teach them from personal, past mistakes without recognizing their problems in the present. All had turned out well, and Shinji counted his blessings for it, but he couldn't be sure he'd do any better in the future, and that's why it was time for him to go.

"Ikari!"

But as he meandered his way down the corridor back to the base elevator, Nozomi called after him and chased him down.

"Where the hell are you going?" she demanded.

"My work here is done, Nozomi-chan," he said. "I've done what Misato-san asked me to do, and I'll continue to look for ways to help the world fight Eisheth, but all this is yours now. I don't think there's anything more I can teach you, and even if there were, I'm not sure I could do it well enough. You were under stress for weeks before I really understood what was wrong. I brought too much of my own problems into this job; I did all of you a disservice like that. It's better this way. You'll be fine. You're in good hands here."

She eyed him skeptically. "You might be right about that, but what you're saying is bullshit, and I hope you know that."

Shinji gawked. "Excuse me?"

"Come with me," she said. "If you're going to leave, then I've at least got a going-away present for you."

"You don't seem like the type for that kind of sentiment."

"Just follow me, all right?"

Through the maze of corridors, stairs, and elevators, Nozomi brought Shinji to the pilots' changing room, and from her locker, she produced her most prized possession—the cream-colored drawing pad.

"You're not—you can't give me this," said Shinji.

"I'm not giving my pad to you; are you out of your mind?" Nozomi flipped to a specific page. "It's just one sketch. Here, look."

She handed him the pad, showing him a drawing of himself: a simple boy who brandished a fire extinguisher against the false officer with a gun, who urged Nozomi and Hikari to get to safety while he held the enemy at bay. He took up almost all of the frame, putting every detail of the bloodstains on his shirt and the welt on his cheek in full display.

"I thought you said you didn't like to draw subjects from too close," said Shinji.

"I don't, but this time, I made an exception. See, when I first met you, Ikari, I expected someone different. I don't mind saying that. Everybody knows your face, but I thought they all misunderstood you. Someone who could've made the choice to bring us back from the sea had to be bigger, better, and wiser than anyone could appreciate. I expected a hero, and seeing you as just a kid, just a few years older than me—it was a surprise. But this person here, on this sheet of paper? This is a kid who can be hurt and still grit his teeth to get through it. He knows people will wound each other, but they have to get up out of the mud and fight on anyway. He doesn't gloss over the truth; he just tells it like it was for him, so we won't come in with false hopes—just real ones we can hold on to instead. And he can be wrong sometimes, but I sure hope that doesn't stop him.

"Honestly, I thought I'd be meeting a hero, and I realized I had to change my expectations—not of you, but of what a hero was. So, I want to thank you, Ikari, for teaching me that. If you're going to leave, then take this drawing, and use it to remember what you taught someone. But, if you change your mind, then I'll hold on to it because you'll still be teaching me, and with every test and battle and whatever else that might come, maybe another drawing—another memory of mine—will make a better reminder of what we'll have accomplished. After all, we'll have beaten Eisheth by then, right?"

It was a tacit offer of a promise, and the obstacle to Shinji taking it wasn't his willingness to fight. Was he capable of this duty? Could he stand up and see this through, no matter what happened to Nozomi, no matter what challenges she faced that reminded him of his own, while he'd be helpless to do anything but advise her and tell stories while she did all the fighting?

Perhaps not. He had to admit the possibility, but it was better to try, if Nozomi was anyone to believe, his refusal to gloss over the true horrors she'd face had prepared her, at least in some small way. In that respect, his efforts may have been more successful than he could ever know.

"Keep it," said Shinji, pushing the pad back in her hand. "You're right—you might find a better shot of me to draw after all."

Nozomi nodded, and she put the pad back in the locker, fastening the combination lock when she was done.

#

While the children of Eisheth Zenunim hurtled through the cosmos, the world would never know Horaki Nozomi, the Sixth Child, stood ready to defend it. Concerns over Nozomi's safety in the wake of Eisheth's attack led Misato to arrange for quarters for the Horaki clan to stay in, at least as a short-term measure until the danger passed—if it should ever pass at all. The attacks on the pilot candidates and their families were covered up as random, unconnected acts of violence. The world could not know what had really happened that night, but in Misato's judgment, that was a temporary state, and either mankind would emerge triumphant or the truth would come out when all men merged together in the LCL sea.

And Misato was always one to prepare for victory. In the control room of the Hachibuse Mountain Complex, the staff under Misato's command held a memorial, with a bouquet of cherry blossoms for the first casualty of the war against Eisheth: the unassuming security guard whom Shinji had left to die in the hope of saving another. It was a difficult ceremony for him to attend, for Shinji hardly knew the man or paid attention to his face, and there, the guard was being remembered without any family to hear why he'd truly died.

Still, two GSDF cameramen recorded the event for posterity, so there would always be a record of what had really happened, even if the world wasn't ready to know it yet, and Shinji was there, in another uncomfortable, itchy suit, with Asuka on one side, bearing a string of pearls around her neck, and on the other Nozomi in a modest, plain black dress. She let her hair down and applied a few spots of makeup, just enough to look decent on camera.

On their shoulders, the hopes of mankind rested, and the three of them stood as a wall, prepared and vigilant for the coming of Eisheth, her children, and whatever horrors their arrival would bring.


Next: Human followers of Eisheth are hiding among the Cult of Lilith, and Shinji calls upon an old ally to help uncover their whereabouts and their plot. Coming soon: "The Archon"

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