"Can you pull in Leviathan with a fishhook
or tie down its tongue with a rope?
Can you put a cord through its nose
or pierce its jaw with a hook?
Will it keep begging you for mercy?
Will it speak to you with gentle words?
Will it make an agreement with you
for you to take it as your slave for life?
Can you make a pet of it like a bird
or put it on a leash for the young women in your house?
Will traders barter for it?
Will they divide it up among the merchants?
Can you fill its hide with harpoons
or its head with fishing spears?
If you lay a hand on it,
you will remember the struggle and never do it again!
Any hope of subduing it is false;
the mere sight of it is overpowering.
No one is fierce enough to rouse it.
Who then is able to stand against me?
Who has a claim against me that I must pay?
Everything under heaven belongs to me."
- Job 41 NIV
†
The sun was low on the water, its light the deep orange of nuclear summer.
He toddled along the damp sand that served as the shifting border between land and sea, sometimes pulling back as the gentle wavelets came rolling in, sometimes letting them splash over his bare feet. The sand was black, the blackest black he'd ever seen, and if he dug his feet in it looked like his shadow was eating them.
After a while, he plopped down on his butt and began to pull at the damp sand with grubby hands, bringing it all into a pile between his legs. Once deemed a suitable size for his architectural preferences, he began to methodically pat the mound smooth, palms slapping against the sand. After a while, it began to take on shape, looking very much like something between a pyramid and a misshapen cone.
All the while, the surf was getting closer, sea spray tickling his face and arms. He had to finish quickly, before he got all wet and Mama got mad that he let himself get all wet. The water was almost about to hit the edge of his shorts when he finished and stood back up. Dusting his hands off, he then planted them on his hips and proudly surveyed his finest work yet.
As quickly as he had built it, however, it was now being undone. The surf began to wash over it, wavelets dragging sand back into the ocean's embrace. The great pyramid soon became a dull dome the color of pitch. He watched intently as the dome slowly smoothed out, getting smaller and smaller with each wave. It was slow work, but the ocean was patient.
Then, even though the pyramid still hadn't disappeared, he felt the urge to look back up. The sun looked different, now. It had nearly disappeared under the ocean, and instead of one there seemed to be two smaller ones, but he knew it was the sun because the color was the same.
Until the two suns blinked, anyway.
He blinked back, staring into the burning bright eyes barely above the water. Then, like Papa told him to do, he waved with a grubby little hand. With the other, he pointed as he called, "Mama, look!"
He heard gentle footsteps on the sand behind him, and he giggled as soft but strong arms hoisted him up. Mama held him close, and all was right and safe in the world.
"What did you see?" Mama asked, face hidden in the light.
He continued to point at the eyes on the horizon. A few moments passed, then he felt her tense up, her skin cold. By her feet, the sandcastle was finally disappearing.
"We're going back inside now," she said.
"Okay!" He waved back to the eyes on the horizon. "Bye bye, now!"
Mama didn't say goodbye, which didn't seem right, because Mama always was sure to say goodbye. She just started carrying him back up the beach, rubbing his back almost mechanically.
"Am I in trouble, Mama?" he asked.
Mama held him out at arm's length. Her face was still hidden by the light, but he could feel her smile anyway.
"No. Everything's going to be alright," she said.
Then she screamed.
Leviathan
לִוְיָתָן
Shinji's eyes snapped open to the whine of the train coming to a stop.
Blinking a few times, he shook his head, half-expecting to see someone sitting across from him, but of course no one was. The entire train was empty, as it had been when he first got on two hours ago. He wasn't even sure if there was a conductor onboard- the entire trip had a sepulchral air to it, like he was being escorted by ghosts to see his father.
Standing up, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and got off the train. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the train station was also completely empty- in fact, it looked like it hadn't been used in years. The occasional tuft of grass poked through cracks in the concrete floors, vibrant green against dull gray, and half the windows were either cracked or gone altogether.
Idly, he wondered if his father had arranged for the reactivation of the entire rail line and station, just to ensure a direct trip to the city.
"Don't be so silly," he chided himself.
Footsteps echoed through the decaying halls as he descended the stairs, and he raised a hand to shield his eyes from the harsh summer sun. The broad street before him was much the same as the station- abandoned and decrepit, with nary a soul to be found. There was even an abandoned fishing boat by the side of the road, its rusting skeleton exposed to the open air.
Another ghost town, just like the dozen others he'd passed by on the train. His teacher had told him about them, of how the people had flocked to the bigger cities or the mountains after the waves, only to stay even after the water receded. Save for the cicadas and their endless droning in endless summer, he might be the only person in the entire town.
Not that he minded, of course. He was used to being alone.
He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes to go before Miss Misato came to pick him up, assuming she even arrived on time. Which, considering how lackluster everything else about his trip had been, seemed a dim hope. He thought back to the utterly indecent photo he had sent him, and shook his head.
He spotted a large chunk of concrete nearby on the sidewalk, just at the perfect height for sitting. He walked over, long grass tickling his hands, then climbed up. Dusting the pollen off his slacks, he drew his knees in and hugged them tightly. A gentle breeze rolled by, ruffling his hair and making the long grass dance.
His gaze fell upon the fishing boat. Now that he was closer, he could see that it had become a practical mural for graffiti, every viable square covered. There was Japanese, as well as the simple rounded script of Mysterian, the complex grid-like characters of Xilien, and even the flowing curls of Simeon, sprayed and scratched and stenciled over the decomposing hull.
One particular artwork, larger than the others, drew his attention. A familiar creature stared at him with fiery orange eyes, eyes he had seen in textbooks and old movies and everything else. The painting had been framed as a mugshot, with only the beast's face visible.
Have you seen me? the top read. Missing since 2000.
The eyes held his attention for a few moments, before he forced himself to look away. Fishing through his pocket, he pulled out his old SDAT and unwrapped the earphones. Slipping them in, he relaxed as the buzzing of cicadas was replaced with soft piano. Closing his eyes, he let everything else fall away, drawing in until there was only him and the music.
And then something hit him on the head.
He yelped and sprang to his feet, hand instinctively going to the new welt on his head. He looked around wildly, until something moving caught his eye and he turned to see a shiny pen rolling to a stop a few feet away.
Pulling out his headphones, he rubbed his head and looked around, trying to see where it could possibly have come from. The streets were still empty, and the rooftops were too far for anyone to have reasonably thrown it. Feeling the welt, it was right on top of his head, as if the pen had fallen on him, but when he looked up all he saw were blue skies.
Stuffing the SDAT pack in his pocket, he warily walked closer to the pen. Now that he was closer, he saw that it wasn't a pen at all. Actually, he didn't know just what it was. It was an odd shade of blue, like the old refrigerators he saw in history books, with black highlights and a silver cap.
A moment passed, then he stooped down and picked it up. It was lighter than he was expecting, and slightly warm to the touch, with a metallic texture. Twirling it deftly with expert fingers, he wondered if it was one of those old-fashioned cigarette lighters. He tried to open the cap, but it refused to budge even when he twisted as hard as he could.
Studying the cap, he saw that it was actually translucent, and inside was a red ball. He stared at it for a few moments, entranced. It seemed to shine brightly, yet it didn't cast any light, and there was a certain vibrancy to it that he couldn't put his finger on.
"Where did you come from?" he asked.
It was then that he realized the cicadas had stopped buzzing. He looked up, half-expecting to see something, but the city was just as empty as before. In fact, it somehow seemed even emptier. A shadow briefly fell over him, and he looked up to see the distant silhouettes of birds flying overhead, thousands of them, more than he had ever seen before. They were all flying away from the mountains, not even crying as they fled.
The air was still now, as though it was about to start pouring rain at any moment, yet the sky was still a bright and clear blue. He swallowed in a dry throat and looked to the mountains. The sea lay beyond them- was there a tsunami coming? He hadn't felt a quake, though, so what could it be?
The silence was finally cut by a distant whine, a low-pitch scream that he could feel in his chest. A tremor raced down his spine, like someone had just scratched their nails across a chalkboard right next to his ears. It got louder and louder, until he swore he could feel his teeth rattle, then it suddenly died.
He didn't realize he'd hugged the strange thing close to his chest until the sound stopped. A moment passed as he looked at it in his hand, then he slipped it into his breast pocket. There was something oddly comforting about having it there.
Standing a little straighter, he looked around. There had to be a phone somewhere.
There. He ran over, backpack bouncing, and grabbed the worn phone. He paused, wondering who he should call, then punched in the number Miss Misato had given him.
"Due to the state of emergency, all lines are currently unavailable..."
He plopped the phone back on the receiver. "No good. I guess something is up..."
The phrase state of emergency gnawed at him, demanding his full attention. That horrific sound from before had to be related to it, but he had no idea what it meant. All he knew was that he was possibly in danger.
He glanced back down at his watch. Miss Misato should've been here already- then again, maybe she wouldn't come at all because of the emergency. He needed to get back to the station.
Then a low rumbling made itself known, shaking the ground beneath his feet, shaking the phone off the receiver. Now, in the distance, he could hear what sounded like fireworks, sharp pops and booms that were more felt than heard. He looked around, trying to find the source of the noise, but he could see nothing, only the same empty town.
There was a loud crash, and he saw something hit one of the rooftops, bouncing off and landing on the street. Green fog hissed out of the hidden object, and as it wafted closer Shinji crinkled his nose at the smell, like rank seawater being poured over white-hot metal. Coughing, he backed away from the fog, trying in vain to wave it away.
The rumbling got worse. A few of the windows began to rattle, and he looked up to see that the power lines were swinging, as though caught in a sudden gale. The hideous whine of before returned, now so loud he thought his skeleton was going to jump out of his skin. He turned to where it seemed to be coming from, only to freeze as his eyes fell upon a thing that should not have been.
An impossible creature emerged from behind the hills, a mockery of the human shape, twisted and expanded into something that towered over the surrounding buildings. Long arms swung from unnaturally broad shoulders, moving in concert with slender legs that supported a vespine waist. The monster's black flesh shone like wet leather in the noon sun, a stark contrast to the dry white bone protruding from its joints.
Aircraft swarmed about the beast, little more than steel hornets. Paying them no heed, it turned slightly, allowing Shinji a better look. It had no head or neck, but instead had a bony mask where its heart would have been, eerily reminiscent of a plague doctor. Directly underneath was a massive red orb, nestled between ribs that clutched at it like skeletal hands.
He stared at the creature, everything else forgotten. They had disappeared, everyone said, before he was even born. They were merely things in worn books and grainy film and faded magazines, their names only spoken by teachers and the elderly who had lived in their shadow.
Kaiju.
Then the aircraft opened fire, and the madness began in earnest.
†
Back and forth, back and forth, did the waves roll against the beach. They had been gentle waves, then they had become violent and without rhythm as the monster rose and the guns fired, and now they were gentle waves again. The sea forgot, as it forgot everything.
Back and forth, back and forth, did the waves crash against the submerged ruins of the old world, against sun-baked concrete and exposed steel beams. Ruins of the new world joined them now, gutted aircraft with broken maser lenses and crumpled sonic emitters. It would be some time before the tides would pull them into the sea, but the sea was patient.
Back...
The sea pulled away farther than the lowest tide, exposing broken roads and rusted cars, and for a moment it was as though the past fifteen years were a passing dream, and the dead town had not been swallowed by the waves.
...and forth.
A wall of water slammed into the broken shore as the sea surged, crumbling the remaining buildings and tossing the broken military equipment like the toys they were. The waves rose up the face of the mountain before they finally came back down, and with them they brought crushed maser trucks and charred gas-canister artillery choked in silt.
A new monster now strode the shore, seawater cascading off its massive frame. It sniffed the air once, and then without any pause went the same way as the previous intruder, and with each step it took the sea shuddered as the earth shook.
The new arrival climbed up the mountain, churning the earth and unmaking roads where the other had scarcely left a footprint. There was no barrage of scent canisters to greet it, no crackling in the air as masers fired, for all the survivors had followed the first in their desperation to stop it. Only the sea and the dead witnessed its passing, and neither were talking.
The surf continued to jump and ripple with each step of the monster, swirling into eddies that spun drowned tanks like tops. Then the beast disappeared behind the crest of the mountains, and slowly the eddies stopped their twirling, and once more did the sea forget.
Back and forth, back and forth, did the waves roll against the beach.
†
"First defense perimeter has been breached," one of the bridge crew -Hyuuga, was it?- announced. "Target is advancing unimpeded."
"The AG-scent canisters seem to be entirely ineffective," said one of the generals below. "The damn thing doesn't even seem to notice the stuff."
"Have we run all of the sonic emitter frequencies?" asked another general, the older one with a bushy mustache.
"All of the ones within pilot safety have been used," replied one of the bridge crew, the young woman always attached to Akagi.
"Temporarily suspend the safety limits and tell them to up the amplitude," barked the old general, slamming a fist onto the table like the Angel would hear it. "This is all out war!"
"We need to authorize the same for the masers," the youngest general declared. "This thing has eyes, so let's burn them out."
"Sir, Atsugi and Iruma give ETA forty-five for the maser trucks," Hyuuga said.
"Dammit!"
"We need to bring out the conventional ordinance on this thing! Slow it down with Linebackers!"
"What we need is to authorize the N2 strike before this thing gets past the final perimeter!"
Gendo watched the chaos below as the generals began barking contradictory orders and debating the merits of vaporizing a city, his hands tented before his face. A tired sigh escaped him, so soft that it went unnoticed. Ever so briefly, his eyes darted to the telephone on his desk, the fifth time since the attack began.
"After fifteen years, the moment has finally arrived," Fuyutsuki said.
"Indeed," he replied. "The Third Angel has come to test the worthiness of Man."
"It is as expected." Then, more quietly, "How much longer will we have to put up with their little war game? This is a waste of valuable resources."
"This is for us, not for the Angel. Even they know this is not a fight they can win."
"I think you underestimate how quickly we become complacent, Ikari, how quickly we forget even him."
"No," Gendo said. "You underestimate for how long will Man remembers his fears. This is merely grandstanding."
"Do you think he'll arrive, then?"
Gendo did not reply. His eyes fell upon the phone once more.
When it suddenly rang, he was sure to wait a moment before quickly reaching over and answering the call.
"Commander speaking," he said, still watching the generals panic below.
"He is coming," came the soft reply.
The line promptly went dead, and Gendo put the phone back in his pocket, then resumed his pose. Hidden behind his gloved hands, a smirk appeared on his face.
†
Shinji clamped his hands over his ears and crouched down as the shockwaves of the guns rolled into him, sending his heart into his throat. Then the wind came, a howling beast that pulled at his hair and stung his eyes until he closed them. Loose dirt and grit whipped at his ankles, before the wind began to die down, the roar becoming a steady hiss.
Opening his eyes, he looked up at the battle still raging in the distance. Dozens of aircraft flew around the kaiju, peppering it missiles and cannons, explosions blossoming all round the creature's form. Windows shattered and nearby rooftops crumbled under the intensity of the barrage, yet the thing was unharmed. In fact, it didn't even seem to register the attack, blinking like an innocent child as it moved forward.
A jet screamed overhead, and he flinched as a missile half as long as the kaiju was tall smashed into the thing, the cone warping and flattening against the monster's chest. A split second later, the lone engine of the rocket flared to life, white smoke blasting out and rolling to the streets below.
The kaiju leaned back, its stride halted, then something shimmered in the air. The rocket slid to the side, like a waterdrop against a pane of glass, and flew away uselessly into the air. The monster now raised a gangly arm at one of the aircraft, and Shinji saw a shining violet spur shoot out of its palm, impaling the machine.
He stared at the horror before him, held in place by it. Then the warmth in his pocket seemed to grow, and Shinji instinctively placed a hand over the strange object. Finally, he found the will to move, and began to slowly back away, eyes still focused on the battle. He saw the kaiju destroy two more aircraft before the smoke from the rocket finally rolled over him.
Now, he was in a world of haze, of grey shadows against a white background. He coughed violently as the smell of gunpowder assailed his nostrils. Eyes watering, he stumbled a bit, then tried to get a grip on his surroundings. The kaiju was moving again, that much he could tell. Now, he could hear its footsteps, the beating of a massive drum that shook the ground beneath his feet.
The smoke was banished by the whirring of engines, and he looked up to see a large aircraft passing over him, a wide dish embedded in its nose. A red light from began to blink in time with a screeching alarm, and Shinji suddenly recalled reading about how military masers gave off a warning light before firing, as to not blind anyone witnessing it.
He clamped his hands over his eyes and turned away, just in time to feel the heat of the laser as it fired. It only lasted a few seconds before he heard the screech of bending metal. Risking a glance over his shoulder, he saw the aircraft crashing back down as the kaiju withdrew its spur. He barely had enough time to cry out before the mangled mass of metal hit the ground and exploded.
Then he was sprawled out on the ground, ears ringing, a dull ache in his temple. Something warm trickled down the side of his face, and he numbly wiped at it, more out of reflex than anything else. Pulling his hand away, crimson fingers greeted him.
Blood, he thought, distantly. I think I'm dying.
Slowly, he tried to rise, even as he felt bile in the back of his throat. The kaiju was coming closer, now, so close that it could reach down and crush him with a finger. Then it stopped, blank eyes staring at something distant, before more aircraft drew its attention away. And yet, Shinji could still hear those same footsteps, growing closer and closer.
He lost the struggle to get up, and merely lay back down, staring at the sky. Once the initial pain had subsided, it didn't feel that bad. The booming footsteps were even nearer, now, and there was something almost lulling about it. It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open- perhaps it would be alright to close them.
Then through the ringing in his ears, he managed to discern the sound of tires screeching to a halt close by, followed by hurried footsteps.
"Shinji!" a woman's voice called. "Oh, goddess..."
A pair of hands took hold of his shoulders and began to slowly drag him away from the chaos erupting just a few streets over.
"Come on," the voice urged, strained with effort. A few strands of purplish hair entered his vision, and he dazedly realized that the speaker was Miss Misato. "Come on!"
Another aircraft was careening towards them now, smoke billowing from a massive gash in its flank. Misato cursed and began to redouble her efforts to pull him along, but he knew that there was no way that they could both get out of the way in time. Something in the back of his mind told him that he should've been worried, but he didn't pay it much attention. It had to happen sometime, he supposed. He simply closed his eyes, and waited.
A few seconds passed, and he realized that was still alive. His eyes creaked open, and he saw that it had begun to rain. Water fell from dark clouds ahead, swiftly drenching him.
Then his eyes widened.
Not clouds.
Hands.
The aircraft was held aloft in the air by a pair of massive hands, claws the size of cars digging into the hull. Seawater dripped from scaly skin, pouring onto Shinji and the surrounding street like a monsoon, as though the sea itself had begun to walk the earth.
Their unexpected rescuer tossed the wrecked aircraft aside like a broken toy, allowing Shinji to see its face. Even through the haze of pain that enveloped him, he still sucked in a gasp as fiery orange eyes-
twin suns on the water
-gazed into his own. In them he saw the heart of a mushroom cloud, consuming the old photos and films in its flames, leaving only the monster. This was not a legend, a whisper from old men who feared its wrath. This was a beast as big as the sky and as unforgiving as the ocean, regarding him like the bug he was.
"Oh goddess," Misato whispered at Shinji's side. "He's back."
As if bidden, the name found its way past Shinji's lips.
"Godzilla," he whispered.
The King of the Monsters rose to his full height, towering over Shinji, looming even over the other kaiju. His charcoal-grey scales seemed to smolder like a dying fire, now. As Godzilla looked the kaiju's way, Shinji saw something behind his eyes, something that crossed the barrier between man and beast.
Rage.
Godzilla breathed in, inhaling deep enough to ruffle Shinji's hair with a breeze, then roared. It was an old sound, a sound of fury and vengeance that was ancient when mankind first began to walk upright. The windows around Shinji bulged outwards, then shattered into thousands of pieces before his wrath. Misato pulled at him again, and he was finally tossed into the passenger seat of a car. Glass rained down, bouncing off the windshield and hood, but he couldn't hear any of it.
It was finally too much. His vision was fading now, growing dimmer and dimmer with each passing second.
Then, there was only blackness.
†
He was back. He was back and Shinji was dying and they were probably both going to be pancaked under a giant foot.
"Shit!" Misato barked, leaping into the driver's seat. "Why did it have to be today!"
Shifting into drive, she paused only to glance at the boy. Blood oozed from a nasty gash on the side of his head, matting his hair and staining the upholstery a dark red. His lips twitched, as though trying to form words, but his eyes were closed.
Shit. She'd need to tend to those injuries as soon as possible, but first...
She floored the pedal, turning on a dime and narrowly missing one of Godzilla's truck-sized talons as she rocketed past his foot. She had to drive on the sidewalk to avoid the massive depression in the road made by his feet, the car rocking as it skirted the edge. A shadow fell over her for a brief moment as Godzilla's tail whipped over her head with frightening speed, and she glanced at the rear-view mirror in time to see him slam the Angel with it.
Years ago, during her schooling to join NERV, she had written a small essay debating what a kaiju would be able to do against an Angel's AT field. Her thesis was promptly disproven in a great flash of light, then an impact that slammed into her like an anvil as the Angel was sent flying down the street and into a building, disappearing under the rubble.
Belatedly, she realized she actually couldn't hear the impact. Or anything else, really. Touching a hand to her ear, she felt something warm, and pulled back to see scarlet blood on her fingertips.
"Fuck," she murmured, or possibly yelled. No way to tell.
She tore her attention away from the mirror, and focused on the road ahead. There was nothing she could do about that.
A few moments passed as she raced away, then she ripped away at her skirt and pressed the cloth to Shinji's head wound. It was far from ideal, but the bandages were in the trunk, and she didn't want to risk stopping while Godzilla and the Angel were still in sight.
It threw her mind for a loop, still. He shouldn't be alive, let alone fighting an Angel. She'd seen...
She set her jaw, then focused on putting pressure on Shinji's wound.
"Hold on, Shinji," she pleaded. "Everything'll be okay. It's... it'll be alright."
She wanted to believe that.
†
Silence reigned in the command center. Gendo glanced down at the people down below, resisting the urge to smirk at their reactions. Some were gasping, murmuring curses or prayers amongst themselves, and others were silent, eyes wide. It was only a natural reaction to seeing the bogeyman of the past sixty years return.
"We need to N2 mine the area!" the younger general exclaimed, finally breaking the silence. "Have the VTOLs pull out!"
He reached towards the red telephone on the desk, only for the older general to grab his arm.
"We are not going to vaporize a city just because he's shown up," he warned in a low tone. He turned back towards the viewscreen and narrowed his eyes. "Focus all available firepower on the Angel. Let's see what he's got."
"Yes, sir," Hyuuga replied.
"She was right, Fuyutsuki," Gendo commented at the back of the room. "The Leviathan rises from the desecrated seas to prove that there are beasts only gods can tame."
"What shall we do, then?" Fuyutsuki inquired.
Gendo simply smiled.
†
The car disappeared behind the hills, precious cargoes in tow, and he finally looked away. Now, the fight could truly begin.
Before him, hundreds of tons of rubble parted as the enemy rose, standing less tall than before. It stared at him with lifeless eyes, hidden behind its now-cracked mask, and began to lope forward, dragging a limp leg behind it.
A snarl escaped through bared teeth, and he clenched his fists, feeling his power surge back through his limbs as he readied himself.
Then, he charged, the ground shattering beneath his feet as he barreled forwards. The creature responded in kind, a heavenly light suffusing its form, accompanied by a sound like what the insects named Man would call a song. It took to the air, as though lifted upwards by an invisible force, and cleared the ground between them in moments.
It slammed into him, and where they hit a field of concentric field of orange octagons flared into existence, shining like the sun. Skeletal fingers laced about his throat, and the thing's long arms bulged with new muscle as they tried to squeeze the life out of him. All the while, the not-song grew louder and louder, a war-cry against all.
Perhaps the humans would have found it terrible and beautiful to behold. Perhaps they would have been cowed by this creature's show of might.
It didn't even slow him down.
Taking the thing's wrists into his hands, he shattered them in his grip as he pried the creature off him like it were a child, and, still charging forward, swung it about, using the momentum to fling the creature into another building. The tower of concrete and metal pulverized under the thing's body as it fell, dust filling the air. Not slowing his stride, he fell upon the creature again just as it began to rise, and roared a challenge.
The creature's retort was a simple one. It leaned forward, and once more did the field shine before it, the molten-metal light singing and filling his ears with its unnerving tone.
Then he swung a clawed fist at its lifeless mask-face, and the song turned into a dying shriek as the symmetry of the field was undone, the barrier folding in and shattering like glass before his wrath. Bone crunched under his knuckles as the blow landed, and the abominable thing shrieked as it was rendered blind. The sheer force of his punch sent it off its feet and into a nearby hillside, and he resumed his charge.
The enemy rose suddenly, and extended one of its hideously long arms. Millions of years of instincts directed him as he came to stop, but there was only so much instinct could do against physics as a glowing spur shot out of the creature's broken palm and stabbed into his shoulder, using his own momentum against him as it pierced his thick hide. The ground buckled under his feet as he finally came to a stop.
Then, with nary a sound, he took hold of the spur in a clawed hand and twisted. The bony protrusion shattered under his grip, spraying the streets with blood and prompting a cry of pain from the creature. It reeled back, the spur now little more than a jagged stump. Flesh bubbled under its mask as the thing stumbled, new eyes blinking.
He growled as he pulled the spur out of his shoulder, the wound sealed by the time he discarded the offending thing. Before he could advance on the reeling creature, however, it straightened and glared with fresh and hateful eyes. The glare turned into a flash of light that briefly obscured everything from sight as a massive explosion enveloped him in its searing heat, and when it faded he saw that he now stood in a glass crater half as wide as he was tall.
He snorted contemptuously, his hide unmarked by the attack. Two could play at that game.
He inhaled deeply, letting the familiar burn flood his chest as immense atomic energies blossomed within. One by one he could feel the excess heat in his spines and hear their groans, traveling from the tip of his tail to the base of his neck. Wisps of plasma escaped his throat as he opened his mouth in a silent roar.
Then the silence was broken with the scream of nuclear hellfire, the initial flash setting nearby buildings ablaze as the beam hit the creature dead on in the chest. The field flared and died just as quickly, only managing to deflect the blast away from the glittering red sphere. Instead, the creature's arm was made a sacrifice to the fire, the beam burning through its dark flesh before coming out the other side and severing the limb.
A sickly cry of pain filled the air as the thing stumbled back, greasy black smoke rising from the charred stump that was once an arm, only to be silenced when he fell upon it. A single swipe of his tail slammed it back into the hillside, and before it could rise he stomped down on its thigh, relishing in the crunch of bone.
The thing flailed about wildly in an attempt to get free, but it proved to an exercise in futility as he increased the weight on its leg. It raised its remaining arm, spur glowing as it prepared another attack, only for him to seize it in his jaws, bones shattering beneath his teeth. Keeping its body pinned beneath his foot, he shook his head back and forth like a rabid dog until the creature's arm was torn from the socket.
Tossing the limb aside, he focused on the glittering red sphere in the creature's chest. Raising his other foot, he stomped down on it, and a spiderweb of cracks marred its perfection. Growling in satisfaction, he stomped down again, and the cracks widened.
The creature's form suddenly shifted, limbs flowing like water as it tried to wrap around him, but he refused to fall into its grip. Pulling it off of him, he threw it back down to the ground, then stomped down one last time. The core shattered into countless pieces, and the flesh bulged outwards, like a corpse left in water. Then, slowly, it began to deflate, oozing red.
He rose from the remains of his enemy, his claws slick with blood that faded to steam, and roared in triumph, howling at the sky.
Head held high, he began his march back to the sea. The human machines trailed him, but they kept their distance, and so he let them be. Today, they were not his enemy.
The ocean was sloshing about at his hips when he paused. He turned, craning his neck to look at a point beyond the mountains, something he could not see, but sensed all the same.
Then, he disappeared under the waves.
†
The command center had once again fallen silent. Not the shocked silence of before, Gendo noted, but one of great trepidation, as though no one knew how to react. The old fools of generals from the JSSDF had already left, having ceded authority over all anti-Angel (and now, anti-kaiju) operations to NERV. His eyes danced over the command center, then focused back on the vidscreen.
"Send out a 'do not provoke' order to all forces in the area in regards to Godzilla," he said, voice firm. "I want minute-to-minute updates on his position."
"Yes, Commander," Hyuuga said, shakily.
The air in the command center seemed to warm, as the shock began to fade. The constant stream of information as the technicians read off reports washed over him, unheard.
He smiled lightly. "He won."
"It appears that we will have to wait our turn, Ikari," Fuyutsuki noted dryly.
Gendo straightened in his seat and adjusted his glasses. "It is of no matter. We will have our time soon enough."
The intercom on his desk beeped, halting any further conversation. Allowing himself a small sigh, he activated it.
"Commander Ikari speaking."
"The Third Child will be arriving shortly, but there's bad news, Commander." Dr. Akagi's voice was surprisingly shaky. "The operations director has reported that the boy received a severe head injury during the Angel's attack. We have an emergency team on standby ready to receive him as soon as possible, and we're preparing the autodoc. The operations director was also injured-"
"Irrelevant." The grip on his phone tightened, creaking plastic. "I want every measure available for the Third Child's treatment. Prep Unit-01's core if need be."
"Understood, Commander," Ritsuko replied.
He put the phone back down, more forcefully than intended.
"Ikari," Fuyutsuki began.
"I know."
†
She didn't even bother slowing down as she approached the entrance, instead ramming right through the flimsy wooden barrier at the security stand. Ritsuko and a medical team were already standing by, courtesy of a screaming message she'd left via the car's phone, and she narrowly avoided running them over as she slammed the brakes.
By the time she shakily got out of the driver's seat, Shinji had already been pulled out and slapped onto a gurney, the doctors and nurses crowding around his bleeding form like ravenous vultures. She couldn't discern what they were saying, what with the whole having her eardrums ruptured by the roar of a monster the world had thought dead for fifteen years, and she bit her lip. She hated being so helpless, so uncertain.
Ritsuko walked over her way, worry clear on her face. Her lips moved, only to stop when Misato pointed to her bloody ears. Ritsuko solemnly waved over a couple of EMTs, and Misato felt the chill of regen-induc spray against her skin as they attended to her.
Sparing a glance over, she saw that Shinji was already being brought to the elevator, about to be brought down into the best hospital on the planet. She prayed it would be enough, but she knew prayers only meant so much.
Before he disappeared behind the steel doors, something caught her eye. Where the boy's shirt pocket was supposed to be, there was now only a hole in the fabric as though something had burned through it, yet the skin beneath was unharmed.
She brushed it aside. There was a lot more to be worried about.
†
A frenzied, erratic pulse.
Silence.
Pushing against the unknown, a lone heartbeat.
Then another, stronger than before.
†
The sun shone through the windows of the train, its light the color of nuclear summer.
Shinji sat alone on the sidebench, SDAT clutched in both hands as he slouched forward. The tape whirred patiently in the little machine, but no music played through the headphones. Still, he couldn't bother to take them out or fix the music player. In fact, he couldn't bother to do anything at all. Even thinking about doing anything seemed unbearable.
He didn't know how long he had been on the train for. It seemed like it'd been hours, yet he still had the nagging feeling that he'd just gotten on. Where he was going, he couldn't tell, and he couldn't help but feel that he didn't care. He just watched the tape in the SDAT whir around and around, around and around.
"Mama, look!"
Somehow, he found the will to look towards the voice. There a woman stood, holding a familiar little boy in her arms as he pointed out the window. He couldn't see the face of the boy's mother, yet somehow her smile still made him feel warm, breathing life into him.
Straightening in his seat, he looked to where the boy was pointing, and saw that where there had been one sun there was now two. The twin suns looked straight into his eyes-
twin suns on the water, twin suns in the sky, blood and smoke and
-and suddenly he cared where he was going. He still didn't know where the train was taking him, but he knew he wanted off. He needed to get off.
Someone was now sitting across from him, framed in shadow against the light of the burning eyes. A young boy, in a loose white button-up and black slacks that hung loosely on his lanky frame. He knew the boy's face, with its delicate cheekbones and blue eyes and mop of black hair, yet he couldn't recognize it at all.
The boy smiled at him. Not the smile of a friend or brother, yet something just as kind and knowing.
Bᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀғʀᴀɪᴅ
Shinji looked down, and saw that his SDAT was gone. Now something else was clutched in his hands, a cylinder of black and old refrigerator blue that felt so painfully familiar, and a red button that hadn't been there before beckoned him.
It was so easy, he realized. He didn't know why it'd seemed so hard before.
He pressed the button, and looked back to the boy.
"What happens now?"
Nᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴋᴇ ᴜᴘ
And then he did.
†
He opened his eyes, and found himself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling.
For a moment, all he was aware of was the rising and falling of his chest, the feel of scratchy cloth against bare skin. The faint stinging scent of antiseptics caressed his nose as gently as sandpaper, like a splash of cold water bringing him back to reality, and he was suddenly aware that he was in a hospital room. He must've been brought here after-
It all came back to him. The kaiju strolling through a city as though it were a model set, the chaos of the military assault. Blood in his hair, blood on his hands, a falling aircraft in the hands of a giant. Eyes like hot coals staring into him, history brought to life, a roar...
Sheets rustled as he suddenly sat up, his hand going to where the gash in his head had been. After a moment's hesitation, he gently traced his fingers over, and felt only cloth. They had wrapped a bandage about his head, but even as he pressed hard into what should have been a ragged mass of torn skin and blood, he found nothing. No stitches, no staples, not even a lump.
He pressed again, waiting for the pain to come, but there was nothing. As a matter of fact, he felt good. No, fantastic. Even the small aches and pains, the ones so small and so omnipresent that he'd simply gotten used to them, had disappeared. It was not exactly a feeling of warmth, nor relaxation, but of something possessing each in part.
Pulling the blanket back, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. It was then that he realized there should've been all sorts of things attached to him, like in the medical programs his teacher sometimes watched. Heartrate monitors and PulsOx's, maybe even one of those horrible catheters he'd read about, but there wasn't even an IV in his arm.
Maybe medical care had moved beyond that? If he was where he thought he was, they had to have the best medical care in the world.
The chilly linoleum floor nipped at his skin as he gently set his feet down, but the sensation quickly faded as he rose. Taking a furtive step forward, he realized that his limbs felt lither, his skin tauter. There was something emboldening about it, and he nearly ran as he approached the window and opened the curtains.
An impossible place greeted him.
For kilometers in each direction, a vast cavern was stretched out before him, unnatural in its perfectly circular shape. Sunlight shone through countless holes and slots in the roof of the cavern, bathing undulating hills of countryside in a warm afternoon glow. Sheer-faced walls of gray stone curved upwards, meeting at a disc in the sky. So great was its height, that the top of the cavern was obscured by the blue haze of the sky. Yet Shinji could still see the transit cables criss-crossing its vast expanse, as well as the buildings hanging from the roof.
"I'm in the Geofront," he murmured, eyes wide.
He'd read about it in textbooks and documentaries, yet it was so much grander to see in person than he realized. It was like a dream made real, so daring in its very existence. All he could do was gawk at the sight, drinking in the splendor.
He expected it to be a loud and bustling place considering its purpose, but it was quiet, more like a park than the last fortress of mankind. He closed his eyes, savoring it. The quiet reminded him of the house he lived in with his teacher, up in the mountains. Sometimes, he felt, entire days could pass in such silence.
The peace was broken by the sound of the door behind him sliding open. It sounded like it should've been whisper soft, but instead it grated against his ears, and he fought the urge to wince. Turning, he saw a young nurse walk in, wheeling a small cart in front of her. Shinji pulled at the edges of his gown, now painfully aware he was only wearing a threadbare sheet.
She didn't seem to notice him, instead turning to the bed before she stopped. Then, slowly, she glanced back his way, eyes wide.
"Um, hello," Shinji said.
The nurse's face turned ashen, and a small gasp escaped her as she backed away, the cart seemingly forgotten. With nary a word, she suddenly left the room at a near-run, the door sliding shut behind her.
Shinji blinked. "S-sorry?"
He waited a few moments to see if something would happen. When nothing inevitably happened, he slowly started walking to the door. Just as he was about to open it, however, it opened on its own, and a young woman in a lab coat stepped inside. Peroxide-blonde hair framed a tired face, only highlighted by the shaded eyeglasses perched on her nose.
"Good afternoon, Shinji," she said. "I'm Dr. Ritsuko Akagi, head of Project E. It's good to see that you're already awake. You gave us quite a scare."
"Oh, um, sorry about that."
Dr. Akagi peered at him over her glasses, eyes narrowed as if searching for something. Shinji wilted a little under her gaze, until she suddenly gestured with her clipboard to the bed.
"Please sit," she said. "I need to check and see how your wound is doing."
He did as told, hands still keeping his gown down. Dr. Akagi set her clipboard on the cart, then started peeling the bandage away, surprisingly rough hands plying at the gauze wrapped around his head.
"Thankfully, it's clear your hearing's already recovered," she said, not bothering to glance over. "Your eardrums were ruptured during the Angel's attack earlier; we had to treat them with regen-induc spray."
"Angel?"
"Think of them as a unique form of kaiju, distinct from all the others." Dr. Akagi didn't seem intent on elaborating, instead continuing to peel the gauze away. "Major Katsuragi was quite panicked when she brought you in, screaming that you were at death's door."
She paused, finally looking his way. "Do you remember anything about it?"
He pushed aside the memory of locking eyes with a monster. "I remember something hitting me in the head, and... and there was a lot of blood in my hair. Everything felt like I was underwater."
There was a split-second's delay before the doctor said, "Well, thankfully the wound was only superficial. It should be healing quite nicely, now."
She peeled the last of the gauze away, and frowned. "And now it's nonexistent."
"Oh," Shinji said, simply. "That's good, right?"
Dr. Akagi looked at him for a moment, then smiled. "Just a bit faster than expected. Some people take to the soma-based ointment we put on better than others. Any lingering pains?"
He squirmed under her intense gaze. "N-no."
"Hm." She picked up her clipboard, and began walking back to the door, pausing to glance over her shoulder. "Your clothes are on that chair in the corner. Major Katsuragi and I will be waiting outside for you."
The door shut, and Shinji let out a breath. Rising, he padded over to the corner of the room, and saw that his clothes had been cleaned and folded. Gently, he ran a hand over the starchy fabric of his shirt, then paused. There was a hole in his shirt pocket, like something had burned away the fabric, but there was no ash or charred fabric. Looping a finger through, he saw there was also a hole in the shirt itself.
The strange thing he'd found before the Angel attacked had been there. There had to be a link, but he couldn't think of any that made sense. If it was a lighter after all, it should've burned him too. If it was something else... where could it have gone?
He pushed the question aside and untied the gown, before quickly slipping on his uniform. It still smelled of smoke. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. Dr. Akagi and Miss Misato were standing nearby. The purple-haired woman had bags under her eyes, and he felt a pang of guilt.
"S-sorry about the scare, Miss Misato," he mumbled, bowing slightly.
Misato simply let out a sigh of relief and stepped over, laying a hand on his shoulder. He tensed at the touch, but said nothing.
"I'm just glad to see you're alright," she said, tapping her ear. "How are the new eardrums treating ya? Mine are still feeling off, but then again, not everyday you get to have Godzilla roar in your face. I wonder if they have t-shirts for that, like with roller coasters?"
"Ummm?"
"Misato," Dr. Akagi warned, tiredly.
Misato simply rolled her eyes, then winked at Shinji. The boy blushed, then found the power to speak.
"So that was Godzilla we saw?"
"Yep," she replied, matter-of-factly. "I know, it's a shock to me too, especially since he apparently beat the Angel while we were driving over."
"Dr. Akagi mentioned the Angels earlier," Shinji said. "What was it doing there? Is that what NERV is for?"
"You didn't give him the pamphlet, I see," Dr. Akagi noted dryly.
"Gee, it's almost like we were too busy running for our lives from a giant monster brawl," Misato retorted. She looked back to Shinji, her hand falling away. "Yes, NERV is dedicated to the defeat of the Angels. And you, Shinji, have a big role to play in that."
"I do?"
"You do," a familiar voice said.
A chill ran up Shinji's spine, and he turned. Father was standing down the hallway, an older man in a uniform just behind him and to his right.
"Father," he said, throat suddenly tight.
"Hello, Shinji. It's been some time."
A pause hung in the air. Father's eyes were hidden behind the glare his orange glasses, yet Shinji swore he saw a hidden tension leave the man as he regarded him. Then he spoke again.
"You are here because you are needed, Shinji."
"For what?"
It was Dr. Akagi's turn to speak now. "Shinji Ikari, the Marduk Institute has identified you as the Third Child. You are to pilot the All Purpose Humanoid Special Weapon, Evangelion Unit-01."
†
You have been reading:
シン・Leviathan, Chapter One: The New World