CANNOT CONFIRM ATMOSPHERIC ENTRY OF UNIDENTIFIED LSA STOP NOTHING SHOWING ON RADAR STOP
GO OUTSIDE AND USE YOUR FUCKING EYES STOP
- Exchange between two American observation stations during King Ghidorah's arrival on Earth, December 20th 1966
†
The photo had been projected to the whiteboard wall of the conference room, blown up to the point where the subject of the picture was taller than anyone in the room, yet still paltry to its true size. With all of the observation cameras and drones in the city, they had their pick of pics, but the one they had chosen was rather apt- the giant at a slight crouch, arms crossed as he fired his beam.
Misato frowned and shook her head. It. Its beam. Anthropomorphizing the giant was dangerous territory, even if it was more human-like than any nonhuman she'd ever seen, even more than...
She turned to look at the crowd in the rather small conference room, their faces only illuminated by the glow of the projector hanging from the ceiling. They were all so young -as to be expected after half the planet died fifteen years ago- but the harsh light highlighted the bags under their eyes and the wrinkles of their scrunched brows and made them all look so very old.
Something told her she'd look just as bad, and not only from the stress of a kaiju and Angel attacking at the same time. Driving Asuka and Shinji to the apartment had been so much fun.
"I know it's been a pretty long-" she paused to dramatically check her watch. "-early afternoon."
Chuckles rippled across the audience, more sounds of relief than genuine mirth. That was good. Panic didn't help brainstorming sessions.
"We have a lot on our plates today. Repairs for Unit-01 and the city, specimen retrieval, cleanup, and some Godzilla-sized mysteries, but this one takes precedent."
She reached her hand back and rapped the wall behind her with her knuckles. "Unidentified Giant Humanoid Lifeform One, that's what we're calling it for the time being. One hundred meters tall, twelve and a half thousand metric tons based off its footprint indentations. Where did it come from? We don't know. What can it do? We don't know. What is it doing here? We don't know."
"What we are going to do," she continued, "is find out."
"Is it an Angel?" someone in the crowd blurted out.
It was Ritsuko's turn to talk. The blonde scientist got up from her seat at the front and stood on the other side of the projection.
"Considering what we've seen, we can safely it is not an Angel," she said. "Despite the orb on its chest resembling a core, MAGI analysis of blood patterns returned with code orange. Which is jargon for 'we don't know what it is, but it's not any of those things'. That's not getting into its actions, which are completely unlike both observed and hypothesized Angel behavior."
"Actually, that thing in its chest is a good starting point." Misato grabbed a marker and drew a circle around the giant's orb. "I want to hear ideas on what it might be."
"Could it be an analogous organ to an Angel core?" someone at the back asked.
"I'm not discounting that idea," Misato said. She wrote CORE ANALOGUE on the whiteboard and drew a line to the circle. "Any other ideas?"
"That chime it made along with the flashing, could it be a form of communication?" asked Maya.
"Doubtful," Ritsuko said, which prompted Maya to look at the floor with a blush. "Far too simple for even basic mathematical proofs."
"The way it sped up, it was like a countdown," Hyuuga piped up. "Maybe an indicator of energy reserves?"
"That's possible," Misato said as she wrote it down.
"It might not be power, but something else," Maya suggested. "Maybe it can't survive in our environment for very long."
"That begs the question of where it goes," Aoba said. "Which is also related to where it even came from. It was like it popped out of nowhere."
"Or grew to giant size," Misato added. She decided to write SOURCE near the corner and underlined it. "Footage shows it seemed to rise from a point in the park, as though it was originally smaller."
"Human-sized?" someone asked, unsteadily.
"Wouldn't we have spotted it beforehand?" another retorted. "There should have been sightings..."
"Maybe there have been. The eyes and silver skin are eerily similar to those reports about little grey men we've had since the forties. Maybe the Americans were covering up something at Roswell after all."
"What if it can disguise itself as a human?" Maya piped up.
"I don't want to even think about that. Would we have to start screenings?"
"What can you even screen for? We don't even know if this thing has DNA."
Misato sighed as she continued rapidly scribbling all the ideas on the board. She knew she was going to have to rein it in soon, before it got too out of hand. The fact of the matter was that, whether it was some Angelic sub-species, or a humanoid kaiju, or even a genuine spaceman, they weren't going to figure that out today in this room.
A natural break in the furor came unexpectedly, when the door slid open and Commander Ikari stepped inside, shadowed by Subcommander Fuyutsuki. The room became as quiet as a tomb as he surveyed everyone within, his gaze betraying nothing of the thoughts behind it. Then, with nary a word, he sat down at the far end of the room, one leg lazily crossed over the other. Fuyutsuki opted to stand instead, straight as a pillar and arms folded behind his back.
When it became clear the commander wasn't actually going to say anything, Misato cleared her throat. "I think we've hit the cap on discussing what it could be. Now let's focus on the other questions. Why did it attack the Angel?"
"If it's a humanoid kaiju, it could be merely territoriality," Aoba offered.
"I don't think it's a kaiju, and I don't think it's territoriality," someone near the back said. "It left Unit-01 alone."
"Maybe it didn't see it as a threat."
"That's not it," Misato said.
Clicking with the remote, she moved to another slide. Instead of a photo, it was a short soundless video, showing the giant as it went into a fighting stance and circled about the Angel. Pausing, she pointed to the image.
"Look where it stopped. It deliberately put itself between Unit-01 and the Angel. It left its back open to the Eva, while simultaneously protecting it. An animal wouldn't do that, and an intelligent being wouldn't do that unless it implicitly trusted us. If that doesn't convince you, there's this."
She clicked the remote again. Another soundless video was now projected on the wall, showing Godzilla looming over the giant as it stood between him and Unit-01. A quiet fell upon the room, an all-too-familiar one that had pervaded history classes for fifty years. Even when just on a screen, the King of the Monsters commanded your attention.
"It stopped Godzilla from destroying Unit-01. It didn't fight him- the reason for that in itself is something we can debate all day, but what's not up for debate is that instead of standing by or even fleeing, it put itself in harm's way with no clear benefit to itself, just to prevent the Eva from getting vaporized. If that's not proof of it being both intelligent and benevolent, I don't know what is."
"How do we know it wasn't a calculated gamble to get on our good side?" Aoba asked. "Intelligence implies belligerence. There's no telling what sort of information-gathering abilities it has- how do we know it hasn't tapped into our most secure systems? It might know how to perfectly counter us, and is just waiting for the right moment to strike."
"If it was hostile, wouldn't it have let Godzilla destroy Unit-01, or even do the deed itself?" Maya countered. "The Second Child egressed from the Unit, a perfect target, but the giant didn't attack her or the Eva."
"I'm inclined to agree with Lieutenant Ibuki," Misato said. "It had its perfect moment to strike. No working Evas, no available pilots, and a hostile Godzilla. It could've let him destroy Unit-01 while it focused on mopping us up. It killed an Angel in under a minute- I think it would've been able to take us out in just as much time. But it didn't."
"Regardless of its... priorities, I'd say we are leaning towards this giant being some manner of intelligent entity," affirmed Ritsuko. She adjusted her glasses. "Now the question is- why the lack of communication? I would say that is currently the biggest argument against assigning benevolence to this giant. A non-hostile intelligence would've attempted to advertise that it is not a threat."
"Perhaps it didn't feel the need to," someone suggested. "It might've felt not killing us was advertisement enough."
"It could be some sort of non-interference clause," Hyuuga piped up. "Maybe it can't talk directly to us mud-covered natives out of fear of cultural contamination."
"I think you're jumping the gun on assuming it's an honest-to-god alien," Aoba retorted.
"Stay focused, please," Misato said tiredly.
Maya spoke up. "Maybe it can't communicate, at least not easily. I don't think that mouth is actually usable, or even a mouth at all. Perhaps it speaks to its own kind via radio or telepathy. That's not very compatible with us."
"That's actually a very good point." Misato started writing on the board again. "I think we should look into alternate means of communication, in case this thing shows up again. Which it might not, for all we know. Which, as this meeting has demonstrated, is still virtually nothing. This... giant is an utter enigma. No one has any prior knowledge to work from here."
"I would disagree, Major Katsuragi."
Misato blinked in surprise as she looked to the far wall, everyone else joining in short order. Commander Ikari remained seated, but even then his presence seemed to stifle everyone else's, demanding the room focus on him and him alone. Not for the first time, Misato was astounded at the complete contrast between Shinji and his father.
"Zoom in on Godzilla's face and replay the video." An order, not a request.
The projection shifted. Godzilla's face dominated the wall now, burning eyes the size of dinner plates as they glared at the giant. Misato couldn't help but feel a slight tightness in her throat at the sight.
"Take note of his countenance," Commander Ikari said. "Godzilla's facial expressions are almost as complex as those of primates in terms of conveying emotion. There is displeasure there, yes, but this particular expression is one used only when the source of his displeasure is not something he deems a threat. He has made similar and well-documented displays whenever irritated by Rodan or Anguirus, kaiju with whom he had formed social bonds."
"Something which doesn't happen overnight," Misato said. "He's encountered this giant before."
"And does not deem it a threat, either to him or this planet. See how he turns away. Head tilted slightly upwards, in a dominance display that simultaneously exposes his throat."
"He did not back down from this giant out of fear." Commander Ikari stood up, and adjusted his glasses. For a moment, the orange glint of the lenses made his gaze mirror the one on the screen. "He did it out of respect."
Misato nodded slightly. "Thank you for your insight, commander."
"As for this discussion, I think it has served its purpose for the day," he said, seeming to disregard the pleasantry. "We have much to do today, and ultimately the Angels are our highest priority. I will assign personnel to research this newcomer; in the meantime you are to focus on restoring NERV to combat readiness."
With that, the commander left, Fuyutsuki following after him. Misato let out a long sigh, and looked to the gathered staff.
"Dismissed."
The crowd quietly got up from their chairs and filed out of the room. Ritsuko mentioned something about needing to supervise the dissection of the Angel and followed in short order, leaving only Misato.
A hand went to her cross, thumb gently rubbing the slightly textured steel as she sat down in one of the now-empty chairs. With the other hand, she used the remote to move to another slide. Once more the silver giant dominated the wall, one arm raised skyward and the other bent upwards at the elbow, fists clenched. In that photo at least it seemed less some mysterious alien entity, and more a hero of old rising to slay the evils of the world.
Her eyes fell to the text at the bottom of the photo.
UNIDENTIFIED GIANT HUMANOID LIFEFORM ONE
TENTATIVE NAME:
ULTRAMAN
"Just who are you, really?" she said to herself, quietly.
†
"An idiot," the Sohryu girl said. "That's what you have to be, washout."
Shinji scratched the back of his head. "I didn't know it had glass in there."
She knelt down and opened the cardboard box, before tapping on the side. "It says 'fragile' right here. Right. Here."
Shinji looked at the supposed indicator, but instead saw ZERBRECHLICH stenciled onto the box. That couldn't be a real word.
"I don't speak German," he said to her, hesitantly.
"And whose fault is that?" she retorted.
"S-sorry."
She eyed him, as if she had expected something different, then snorted. She began to rifle through the box, pulling out what Shinji presumed were perfume bottles and makeup boxes. For each one she would spent a few seconds studying it like a slide under a microscope, eyes narrowed as she looked for cracks or chips in the glass, then she would be seemingly satisfied and set it neatly on the floor next to its brethren.
Just as she scrutinized her massive stockpile of cosmetics, Shinji took the lull to study her without fear of some cutting remark. She was utterly different from just about any girl he'd seen before. She was tall for her age, but where most tall kids seemed like they'd been stretched out into skinny beanpoles, she had a surprising amount of muscle on her, and he could see them flex rather impressively on her neck and shoulders as she continued to examine her beauty products.
Perhaps this was what an Eva pilot was actually meant to look like. A growing hero, one whose looks were meant for statues and murals, something the people could admire and aspire to be. Nothing like the frightfully pale ghost that was Ayanami, or the short and unremarkable boy that was Shinji Ikari.
Oɴʟʏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʜᴀs ᴅᴇғᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴀɴ Aɴɢᴇʟ, Sʜɪɴᴊɪ.
"Nothing broken," Sohryu declared, with an ever-so-faint accent. "Somehow you managed that, at least."
She stood back up, dusting her hands off before planting them on her hips as she turned to him. Once again, Shinji found himself entranced by her eyes. They had been the first thing he'd noticed about her, when they had first met after the Angel battle- not that she had known it was him. Even from a hundred meters below they had drawn his attention, the sky blue of her irises a perfect balance to her red hair. He'd never seen blue eyes in person before, save for the mirror.
Sohryu made a face. "What are you staring at, washout? We still have plenty of boxes."
"Sorry." Shinji broke his gaze and turned away.
"Jesus, you really are a doormat."
He tried to ignore that as he walked out of her room. Standing in the hallway, he surveyed the veritable legion of cardboard boxes stacked against the walls and grimaced.
"Why did you bring so much stuff?" he asked.
"What are you talking about?" Sohryu said, brushing past him to grab a box. "This is only half of what I brought from Berlin. It's not my fault I have to share one of these tiny Japanese apartments with a floozy and a washout."
"Why do you keep calling me that?" he mumbled tiredly as he grabbed a box himself.
"Because that's what you are," she said, matter-of-factly. She set the box down in her room and began to unpack, not even looking his way. "Faulty equipment? You just can't sync with the Eva. The only reason you haven't been sent back home is because your daddy's the commander and he can't lose face by admitting you're not fit to be a pilot."
For effect, she waved her arms as if to gesture to her room. "Case in point. The actual pilot gets the bigger room."
"You mean my old room?" he said.
She shrugged. "It's just the natural order of things. It's not your fault you can't pilot. To be a pilot for the Evangelion is to be the cream of the crop, a one in a billion standout. You can't just get some random boy and stick him in there."
She stood back up and walked over, hands on her hips as she grinned. She might've only had two centimeters over him in height, but she seemed to be able to milk it for all its worth and loom over him.
"Think on the bright side, washout. You can rest easy knowing a real pilot is here to actually fight the Angels and save the world. Honestly, you should be thanking me for relieving you of that burden."
Shinji frowned. What did she know about burdens?
"I thought you didn't kill the Angel?" he blurted out.
Cᴀʀᴇғᴜʟ, Sʜɪɴᴊɪ.
Her grin faded. "What are you talking about."
"Misato told me some giant silver... man guy thing killed the Angel instead of you," Shinji replied. "She said it saved you."
Sohryu's face twitched before setting into forced blankness. "That thing didn't save anything. I had that situation under control, no matter what Misato says."
"I-"
"What do you know about being a pilot, or-or fighting Angels, washout?" Sohryu said. The faint accent became a little more pronounced. "You shouldn't even be here."
"Maybe I shouldn't," Shinji said, quietly.
He turned away and left the room, marching towards his new room. Behind him, he heard her step out into the hallway.
"Where are you going?" she called after him, impatiently.
"I'm taking care of my room," he said, not looking behind. "You can do the rest. After all, I'm just a washout, right?"
"You-" A pause. "Know what? Go huddle in your closet, washout. Wouldn't want you going through my underwear anyway."
Shinji ignored the baseless barb and ducked into his room, sliding the door shut behind him. Closing his eyes, he let out a frustrated sigh, then opened them to survey his new abode. Which was actually a repurposed supply closet less than half the size of his old room, thanks to the oh-so-vital pilot. Staring at the lone box containing his things, with his cello case leaning against it, he began to rub his temple.
"She-" he muttered angrily to himself.
Is sɪᴍᴘʟʏ ᴀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ.
Shinji blinked, then frowned. "Don't tell me you're taking her side."
I ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴇɴʏ sʜᴇ ɪs ᴀʙʀᴀsɪᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇɢᴏᴛɪsᴛɪᴄᴀʟ. Hᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ᴡᴇ ᴀʟsᴏ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴇɴʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʜᴇ ɪs ᴀ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴀ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ʟᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴏ ɴᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴅɪᴇᴅ ʟᴇss ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴀɢᴏ.
"She can join the club," he muttered.
Pᴇʀʜᴀᴘs sʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ. His guest sounded earnest. Vᴇʀʏ ғᴇᴡ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴜɴʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ sʜᴇ ʜᴀs ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ sʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛᴏ.
"What is there to even talk about?" Shinji said, leaning against the wall. "I'm just the average boy, remember? I'm not unique."
Wᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴜɴɪᴏ̨ᴜᴇ ɪɴ ᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴡᴀʏ.
"You sound like a preschool teacher saying that."
Tʜᴇɴ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜɴɪᴏ̨ᴜᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ. Iᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ. Iᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴs ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs ᴄᴀɴ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅɴᴇss ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs ᴡɪᴛʜ. Iᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴs ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀɴ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴀʟʀɪɢʜᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ.
Shinji's expression softened, and he thought back to the redhaired girl down the hall. "But she doesn't have that."
Sʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ, ɪғ sʜᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ʜᴇʀ ʙᴀʀʀɪᴇʀs. Iᴛ ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇsᴘᴏɴsɪʙɪʟɪᴛʏ ᴛᴏ ᴇɴsᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ. Sɪᴍᴘʟʏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴜɴɪᴏ̨ᴜᴇ ɪs ᴀ ʟᴏɴᴇʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢ. The voice quieted. I ᴀᴍ ᴜɴɪᴏ̨ᴜᴇ, Sʜɪɴᴊɪ. I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴇᴛ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ɪɴᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴜᴀʟs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛᴇɴs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴏᴜsᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴄɪᴠɪʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴs, ᴀʟʟ sᴄᴀᴛᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴀᴄʀᴏss ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍᴏᴛᴇs ᴏғ ᴅᴜsᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴᴅ. Yᴇᴛ I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴇᴛ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ᴋɪɴᴅ. I ᴀᴍ ᴜɴɪᴏ̨ᴜᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴜs I ᴀᴍ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ.
Shinji slowly slid to the floor and hugged his knees to his chest. "I'm sorry."
I ᴡɪʟʟ sᴀʏ, sʜᴇ ɪs ʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ. Yᴏᴜ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴢᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ.
Shinji chuckled quietly to himself. "I don't know why I do it. I guess it's, I dunno, almost like I'm afraid of not saying it."
Wᴇʟʟ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴛᴏ ғᴇᴀʀ ɴᴏᴡ, Sʜɪɴᴊɪ.
The boy smiled. Then he heard a shriek, and what sounded like someone in the process of falling.
†
"Stupid washout," Asuka muttered to herself. "I didn't need help. I don't ever need help."
How did he even know about the silver giant? Did Misato seriously give that boy pilot-level security clearance? He wasn't even a real pilot. He was just the commander's little nepotism project, nothing more. Oh, if he actually got preferential treatment because of that...
She ground her teeth for a split second before she stopped herself. Her teeth were too perfect to ruin, especially over someone like him. He was just a washout, not even real competition.
Better to focus on actually setting up her room. Her room, singular. That alone was an insult that needed rectifying- did they deliberately decide to put their only real line of defense against extinction in worse quarters than before, or were they just stupid? She almost didn't want to unpack before she put her foot down and got a transfer, but she was not one to wait in an unfinished room like a jackass.
She found a ladder simply enough, and leaned it against the wall before climbing up so she could hang her diplomas. No hammer -she doubted these paper thin walls could withstand an actual nail anyway- so she made do with a command strip.
She was still applying the strip when something pinched her bare foot, and she let out a yelp of surprise, violently turning to see the culprit. An honest-to-god penguin was biting at her toes, clawed wings flapping as it warked loudly. She twisted, trying to bring her foot up out of its reach, and quickly realized that was a mistake as the ladder leaned back and she fell-
-right into Shinji's arms.
She blinked dumbly for a moment, staring in surprise into the boy's eyes. He had a look of worry on his face, but aside from that he didn't seem winded or strained in the slightest. Now that she could actually feel his arms, she realized the scrawny washout felt like he had steel under his skin. Of course, learning that meant him touching her, and she fought to keep her face from reddening.
"You can put me down now," she said, a little unsteadily.
"Oh."
Shinji gently lowered her so she could step off, and she hastily smoothed out her dress and composed herself before looking back to him. She hadn't even seen him enter the room, let alone move to catch her.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
She brushed the thought of her mind. "I'm fine. Just got attacked by a feral bird."
The bird in question had waddled behind Shinji, seemingly to use him as a shield against her wrath. Smart move. Shinji craned his neck to look at it, then back to her.
"Oh, this is Pen-Pen." He scooped the bird under an arm, despite its loud objections. "He gave me a scare too."
"How did you get here?" she suddenly demanded.
"Oh..." the boy blushed. "Well, I finished with my room, and I was wondering if you needed any more, um, I mean..."
"Oh," she said, taken a little aback. "Well, you can handle the heavy boxes. Don't go through my delicates."
"I wasn't planning to," he said tiredly.
He left the room. Asuka watched him for a moment, then cleared her throat.
"Hey, washout."
He poked his head back into view, brow furrowed.
"Thanks for the assist," she said quickly.
"Oh, um, you're welcome, Sohryu," he said.
She folded her arms. "Goddamn Japanese politeness. If we're going to be roommates, you're calling me Asuka."
He nodded. "Asuka."
"That's more like it."
Shinji disappeared from view, and Asuka sucked in a breath. Something about the way he stared at her still felt strange. Not in the creepy sense that normally came when men stared at her, but something so out there she couldn't even put it to word.
The boy came back with a box in hand, then set it down. He started to open it, then paused, as if in thought.
"Misato said you killed a kaiju today," he piped up. "She didn't say much else about it though, which I thought was weird. What happened?"
A grin broke out on Asuka's face.
"Well, if you want to hear about how I just undid sixty years of kaiju supremacy..."
†
Much of the city had already risen above ground once the threat had been deemed neutralized, the air filled once again with the sounds of a bustling community, but grids IN-8 and IN-9 had been compelled by order of NERV to stay underground in combat mode until the Angel's remains could be exhumed and brought for study. After all, the fate of the human species mattered more than the comfort of some of its constituents.
It didn't keep Misato from constantly looking at the ground beneath her boot-clad feet, each time bringing a pang of sympathy of the hundreds of workers who had to stay in their shelters for another half-day just so she could essentially brush some crunchy red angel dust into glorified dustbins. Civilians could move freely through much of the underground city, which was vital for evacuations, but the specialized armored "cross" in the heart of the city was older, more rugged, and lacked that feature.
Well, at least she was suffering with them in this bulky biohazard suit. The cooling fans were working overtime in the unending swelter of a land that hadn't tasted true winter in fifteen years, and she could do nothing to wipe away the beads of sweat rolling down her face, not with the damn bubble helmet in the way.
Ritsuko didn't seem to mind the suit. She was really the one in charge of this op, barking orders to her legion of technicians and specialists nonstop as she directed them to gather and tag any core fragments larger than a grain of sand, take radiation and spectrograph readings of said fragments, then dispose of them into the approved biohazard containers. All while she was standing ankle-deep in the Angel's liquefied remains.
Misato decided to head over and get a progress report, which in itself proved a daunting task as she sloshed through steaming LCL. As with the first, it seemed the Angel's body couldn't sustain its structure without an AT-field actively holding it together, and was now returning to its basic elements. Basic elements that were in the process of being vacuumed up like the grease from a kitchen fryer.
"Any luck?"
Ritsuko looked over and shook her head. "It's just as we feared. Godzilla completely destroyed what was left of the S2 organ when he crushed the core's halves. Not even the MAGI would be able to do a reconstruction."
The scientist reached into one of the biohazard containers and produced a fist-sized chunk of core, then let out a long sigh. "Nanometer-scale crystalline structures that could defy Newton and produce unlimited energy, smashed by an angry atomic synapsid. How much progress have we lost over the decades to this animal's bullheaded aggression?"
"Oh, I wouldn't call this bullheaded," Misato said wryly. "Sounds like asset denial to me."
"You're saying this was a calculated move?" Ritsuko retorted, arching an incredulous eyebrow.
Misato shrugged and plucked the core fragment from her friend's hand, hefting it like a baseball. "If I didn't like the hairless monkeys who have a knack for playing around with forces beyond their control, I'd smash this thing too. You don't need to be a prehistoric Sun Wu to figure out they'd try something with it."
"I'd say you're acting like he is a prehistoric Sun Wu. Asset denial? I'd say you're prescribing far too... human, a motive and methodology."
"All the greats of anti-kaiju warfare I studied did the same," Misato replied, wagging a finger. "Commander Gordon, Admiral Tachibana, General Gondo... they all stressed that the secret of their success was not treating Godzilla like an animal, but like the general of an opposing army, even if it was only an army of one. It was only by doing that, they said, that they could ever figure out where he was going to attack next, and what they'd need to do to lure him away."
"Hmm." Ritsuko seemed to mull it over, then held out her hand. "I'd like that back, please. Even if we can't unlock perpetual motion today, I am hoping these pieces could give us forensic data about our... newcomer."
"All us cool kids are calling him Ultraman now," Misato said with a playful smile as she handed the fragment back.
"Since when?"
"Since about two hours ago, when the meeting ended."
Ritsuko shook her head as she put the fragment back in storage. "Well, it's still better than the name the MAGI churned out for the kaiju Asuka killed. Neronga. Though, at least we're learning more from that one."
She grabbed a data slate and pulled up some images, not an easy task with gloves. Misato peered at aerial photographs of Neronga, and immediately noticed the crisscrossing burn scars on its back.
"It seems the mystery of why a kaiju attacked at the same time as an Angel has been resolved," Ritsuko said. "It was fleeing. Theories are it may have been using the Angel's core to stay warm after being wounded in Second Impact, or more likely had finally sensed something swimming in its territory and rushed to confront it, only to get a bad surprise."
"I think we can join the club," muttered Misato. "And I thought Godzilla was the only kaiju that survived."
"Well now he might be," Ritsuko replied. "After fifteen years of climate disasters, wars, massive engineering projects, and now Angel attacks, only a lesser kaiju has cropped up in response. That creature was certainly the last of its kind."
Yet another species wiped out by us, Misato thought ruefully.
Instead of voicing that, she said, "Any update on Neronga's remains?"
Ritsuko grimaced. "Which ones? Godzilla brought it to sea and promptly tore the body to pieces. Dismemberment, disembowelment, decapitation... any verb you can think of that means disconnecting body parts that shouldn't be disconnected, he did it. Neronga's kaiju-grade pig feed now, scattered across the currents and slowly sinking. We'll be finding pieces of it in the Indian Ocean and the Arctic within a month."
"I think I'll pass on seeing the pictures of that," Misato said, suddenly feeling a little queasy. "Why would he even do that? He's never been observed eating, so it can't be that."
"Maybe it's asset denial," Ritsuko offered, a sly look on her face.
Or a message.
Misato looked around the site, brow furrowed. In another few hours, the remains would be gone, the damage repaired. It would be as if an Angel had never attacked Tokyo-3. Yet the city felt more vulnerable than ever, after today's many revelations. She wondered how the commander could be so composed when faced with a potentially hostile Godzilla and a silver giant...
"Come to think of it, where is Commander Ikari? I thought he wanted to see what we could find on the core."
"That was probably the case before Godzilla crushed it." Ritsuko offered a shrug. "Right now, he's attending a private matter."
†
In respect for his utterly unconventional life, it seemed that the gods were determined to ensure Kyohei Yamane would be unconventional in death.
His requests alone would have made for a most strange funeral. There were to be no guests, on the grounds that he would've hated for his carefully uncultivated lawn to be trampled under the feet of people he scarcely knew, in his own words. That didn't stop hundreds of letters and gifts from flooding in, sent by fellow scientists and professors and statesmen, by students and rivals and random well-wishers.
Then there was the matter of the burial itself. Flying in the face of Japanese custom, he refused both cremation and traditional burial. No, as a man who had spent the better part of a century studying and exploring nature, he would not insulate himself from it with a barrier of ash or wood, and would instead return completely to the earth that had birthed him. No coffin, no clothes nor preserving poisons.
Somehow, all of it was approved despite it probably violating a dozen laws about funerary processions. State workers came and dug out the burial plot in the shade of his favorite black pine tree. There Emiko stood, watching quietly as her father was lowered into the earth, his pale face still bearing that faint smile. It was the last she ever saw of him, before the dirt covered him complete as the workers began to fill in the grave.
Then a state of emergency was called, and the workers left for shelter, leaving him half buried.
Emiko felt no such need to flee. She simply sat in her creaky folding chair, looking at nothing in particular as she waited. Now that the great shock of his return had come and gone, she felt the old and familiar calm her father imparted come back to her, and she wore it about herself like an impregnable cloak.
Once again, she heard the mighty roar, his roar, but she did not scream or jump in her skin this time. Once again his ancient call echoed across the land, shaking the earth and causing a few loose clumps to fall into the grave. And thus did Emiko Yamane finally begin to weep as her father was paid his final respects by the only guest he needed or wanted.
The workers returned some hours later and finished their job, but she did not stay to watch them. Instead she retreated to her home and set about to putting away her father's things, organizing his scattered notes and neatly stacking them in his study. Whether to dispose of them later, or to gift them to his university, she did not know yet.
It was perhaps an hour or so after the burial was completed that she heard the soft whine of an electric vehicle pull up the hill, and a car door open. Frowning, she set down one of her father's journals and hurried outside, or as much as one her age could hurry.
A lone figure was standing at the grave, hands in his pockets as he quietly contemplated the slim pole that marked a great man's final resting place. Emiko walked towards him, hand raised over her eyes to protect them from the afternoon sun.
"Excuse me, but the funeral isn't open to-" she began, then stopped when she saw who it was. "Gendo?"
The younger man took off his glasses and folded them as he offered a lazy half-bow. "Emiko."
"I almost didn't recognize you with that beard," she said. "What are you doing here? I would've thought the commander of NERV wouldn't make time for an old man's funeral."
"His is the only funeral I would make the time for these days," Gendo replied. He offered a smirk she'd seen on him many times before. "Besides, I'm sure some small part of Kyohei would appreciate me being a pain for him one last time by coming here and disrespecting his wishes."
Emiko laughed softly. "You rankled him the way only the best students can."
"He never put it so delicately."
"That's the proof." She paused, then said, "You were the one who approved his requests."
"It's the least I can give the man, after he gave me so much." The smirk faded. "And, I suppose, what he will continue to give. You know what has happened."
Emiko nodded. "How could I not?"
"Even a student whom his master says surpassed him could use his guidance. Technically I have the authority to demand his notes on him, but I would rather simply ask if I may have them."
She gave him a sad look. Even in times like these he was always working, always thinking to the future. It was something her father had both praised and bemoaned to her.
"Of course," she said.
†
She was an old woman, and so it took many trips, but eventually she managed to give him a few boxes' worth of old notes and journals, all of the things he'd neglected on publishing in the long years after Second Impact. Gendo had his security detail put them in an armored container in the car, and Emiko couldn't help but ponder how young Rokubungi could become the man she saw now.
"This will likely be our last meeting," he said. "I will become an even busier man in the coming weeks."
She nodded. "The fact you came at all is enough, Gendo."
"This place will lose the quiet it once had, once the public is allowed to know of what happened here. They will come in droves to rebuild. If you wish, I could-"
She smiled sadly. "I am long used to the noise."
He nodded, then turned to enter the car.
"Gendo."
A pause. He looked her way.
"I know it's been eleven years, but... I know how long those wounds can bleed for."
His face became a blank mask, and he slipped his glasses back on before stepping inside the car. Quickly it drove away, and once again she was alone.
Emiko watched the setting sun for a few moments, then quietly turned and walked back to the house. Shutting the door behind her, she made her way up the stairs to her father's room, and sat at his desk. Again she stared at the small box the diggers had found and brought to her, and again she opened it and contemplated the slightly yellowed envelope with her father's writing on it.
For Ayanami,
Should she ever come to you
†
A layer of condensation coated every square inch of the apartment, now that the sun had set. With each step her sneakers squeaked against the slick linoleum before she took them off, and thereafter her bare feet would make a soft wet slap as she walked towards the dresser. The uniform was swiftly doffed and put on wire hangers older than she was, but she took on no new clothes. Neither did she remove the false dressings- she had not been told to.
After that came the pills. Thirty-three of them from twenty-five bottles, many of them with names and compositions that were known only to a handful of people, all of whom were associated with NERV. For one who had taken them all her life, she found it difficult to swallow them, and so it was ten minutes and two glasses of tap water later before she was finished.
After that came dreaming, but not sleep. She laid down on the damp sheet that was the only covering on her mattress, and closed her eyes.
I do not exist. I cannot feel, for there is no I. I am not I.
She repeated the mantra again and again, until the feelings of the body labeled Rei Ayanami faded, and new ones took their place. Colossal muscles straining and relaxing, sea spray caressing nostrils, stars glittering above.
His core burns with a fire freshly stoked- he has cleansed the earth of more of the metal poison that only he and man wielded, this time in the ruins of one of their nests further inland. There had been a time where he could not come to shore anywhere and not be greeted by their noise and their panicked fleeing and their pitiful tools, but none had witnessed him even as he marched so far as to not see the ocean when he looked behind him.
Their noise had infuriated him. Their silence worries him.
His passing churns the sea into white foam as he races back home. He cannot stray for too long, not when another of the strange creatures could arrive at any moment. Ideally he would have stayed in the glittering human fortress surrounded by mountains, and simply wait for the interlopers to come to him, but he knew the humans would resist, and in their futile attempts to kill him they could potentially destroy that which he sought to protect.
He'd failed before, eons ago, and now all were paying the price. He would not fail again.
Rei's eyes fluttered open, the starlit sea replaced with a dewy ceiling. He'd failed before? What did that mean? Did it have any bearing on future operations for NERV?
She closed her eyes again, softly repeating her mantra, but it took surprisingly long for her to fall back into his skin, and she did not know why. Eventually however, the feelings of one body faded, replaced by another once more.
The skies are clear, and in the open sea there is no human light to banish the stars. Miki had bemoaned to him the feeble eyes of her kind; a full night sky for them was woefully sparse in his own sight, made worse by the foul glare of their nests with their ensnared lightning. When he looks up, the sky seems to him a swirl of light flecked by darkness, rather than the other way around, and tonight he finds himself constantly looking up at it.
The good star-swimmer had once again come to this shore. All others brought death or corruption, all others save that one. He did not care for its attachment to the infestation that called itself humanity, but nevertheless its presence -and power- was welcome. He was familiar enough, and in the absence of others...
An unexpected pang of loneliness stabs at him, and his swimming slows ever so slightly. The familiarity was two-fold, now, and he only knew one half of it. He knew that light, knew that mind, but the presence underneath it also demanded his recognition.
What other presence? thought Rei quietly.
He stops his swimming. The uncertain familiarity grows, and despite himself he looks around as if expecting someone else to be near-
Rei bolted upright, her breathing suddenly strained. Once again she felt the body of Rei Ayanami. A dark apartment greeted her eyes; the muffled sounds of construction equipment filled her ears; the damp sheet clung to her skin. But now it was not just damp from condensation. She wiped at her brow with her unbandaged hand, and realized she was covered with a sheen of sweat.
She suddenly reached for the nightstand and opened the drawer, pulling out the large-caliber pistol loaded with custom-made incendiary rounds. As taught, she put the muzzle in her mouth, pointed upwards. Even with her biology, the shot should be able to kill. Then she waited.
I do not exist. I am not I. I can be replaced.
Twenty minutes passed, but there was no sign of detection. No phantom emotions from his side, no peering through her eyes. Slowly, she took her finger off the trigger and pulled the gun away. Another minute passed, then she put it back in the drawer and absentmindedly shut it halfway. With nary a sound or tremble, she laid back down on the bed.
I am not I. That was what the Commander instructed her. It was the only way to look into Godzilla's mind, for if there was an "I", he would soon find it, and there was no telling what would come after that. She did not care for the consequences, only that being found would mean she'd failed the Commander, and that she had nearly done just that.
What had caused the lapse? She stared at nothing in particular, recalling. Godzilla had been thinking about a star-swimmer. What was a star-swimmer? Was that the being NERV had designated "Ultraman"? If so, did that confirm that Ultraman was extraterrestrial in nature? He'd also been thinking of a presence underneath- what were the implications of that? She needed to know-
Her vision came into focus, fixed on a familiar ceiling. That was the lapse. She had wanted to know more. Godzilla's seeming failure eons ago and the nature of the star-swimmer; she had desired to learn more about it. She was not supposed to desire, or be curious- in order to want to learn, there had to be an "I", and if there was an "I"...
She closed her eyes again. I do not exist. I cannot feel, for there is no I. I am not I.
No matter how many times she repeated the mantra, however, she could not sink back into his mind. She felt something in her face pull in a strange way, and she probed at it with porcelain fingers, tracing the contortion.
Was this a frown?
†
Asuka frowned and stared at an unfamiliar ceiling.
There wasn't even a bed. No locks on the doors? Infuriating, especially when there was a boy living under the same roof as her, but she was confident the washout was too intimidated to try any perverted things while she slept. Paper-thin walls? She could put up with it, since Misato was too far away for her log-sawing snores to be heard and Shinji was as silent as a church mouse. But a sleeping mat?
She gritted her teeth and rolled on her side, wrapping the thin blanket around her as tight as possible. Dealing with jet lag would've been bad enough; as far as her body was concerned it was still two in the afternoon, but throwing on all of the other bullshit made it intolerable. This was how they treated one of the two most important people on the planet?
Hell, even the washout was initially of just as high an importance, and he was still stuck here. It was absurd. What, did they stick the First in a hole in the ground?
She decided she wasn't getting sleep any time soon, and thus threw off the thin blanket and got on her feet. Quietly she padded out of her room, then made her way down the hall. Passing by the washout's room, she paused, then slowly slid the door open an inch or so, taking care to not make a sound. Pressing her face against the crack, she peered inside.
The washout's room was even more depressing than hers. Shinji himself was sleeping soundly on his mat, somehow, and wearing a set of earbuds connected to a small SDAT. She frowned and noted how that was bad for one's ears, then wondered why she was concerned. Her eyes fell on his placid face, and she studied it for some time.
"Heh, sweet dreams, washout," she finally said, quietly. "At least you don't have to worry about saving the world."
Then she shut the door, and made her way to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
†
Wʜʏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ sʟᴇᴇᴘ?
"What was I supposed to do?" Shinji retorted softly. "Ask her why she was looking into my room?"
Iᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴀɴ ᴏᴘᴘᴏʀᴛᴜɴɪᴛʏ ғᴏʀ sᴏᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. Sʜᴇ ᴍᴀʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ sᴇᴇᴋɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇʀsᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.
"You don't try to chat someone up when they're asleep. Seriously, what-" A pause. "Um... I was going to ask what planet you're from, but then I remembered..."
Dᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ, Sʜɪɴᴊɪ. I ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀɴᴅ. His guest took on a sorrowful tone. I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ.
Shinji frowned, then sat up on his mat. "You really don't know anything about yourself? Where you come from?"
I ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴍʏ ʜᴏᴍᴇᴡᴏʀʟᴅ, ᴏʀ ɪғ I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ʜᴏᴍᴇᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇɢɪɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ. I ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪғ I ᴀᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ᴋɪɴᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀsᴛ, ᴏʀ ɪғ I ᴇᴠᴇɴ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴋɪɴᴅ. Fᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ I ᴋɴᴏᴡ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇsᴜʟᴛ ᴏғ ᴀ ᴏɴᴇ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴅᴇᴄɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ғʟᴜᴄᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏ̨ᴜᴀɴᴛᴜᴍ ғᴏᴀᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴀ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ sᴛʀᴜᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ. Mʏ ᴀɢᴇ, ᴍʏ ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ sᴏᴜʀᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇxᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪs ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ I ᴡɪᴇʟᴅ... ɪᴛ ɪs ᴀs ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴀ ᴍʏsᴛᴇʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ᴀs ɪᴛ ɪs ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ.
Shinji looked to the window, his gaze fixed on the stars. They had become brighter and far more numerous since the bond, numbering so many that he could not conceive their multitude. So many stars, so many worlds around that star, yet only one was his own. What could he know about himself if he'd never met another human being?
He straightened. "Do you even have a name?"
Nᴏ. I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ɢɪᴠᴇɴ ᴛɪᴛʟᴇs ʙʏ sᴏᴍᴇ ɪɴᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴜᴀʟs ᴏʀ ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴇs. I'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ᴅᴇғᴇɴᴅᴇʀ, sʜᴇᴘʜᴇʀᴅ, ᴛʀᴀᴠᴇʟᴇʀ, ᴀɴᴅ sᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇs ᴇᴠᴇɴ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ... I ᴡᴀs ᴏɴᴄᴇ ɢɪᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴɪᴋᴇʀ "Nᴜᴍʙᴇʀ Sɪx" ᴡʜᴇɴ I ʙᴏɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴ ᴏʀɢᴀɴɪsᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ғɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇʀɢᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴏɴᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴇɴ ɢɪᴠᴇɴ ᴀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ. Nᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ.
"Why?"
I ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴏɴᴅ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴏʀᴛ ᴏғ ғᴀᴍɪʟɪᴀʀɪᴛʏ. Sᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇs ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀɪsɪs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ɪs ʀᴇsᴏʟᴠᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴏʀ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇs, ᴀɴᴅ I ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍʏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ. Fᴏʀ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄʀɪsᴇs, I ᴍᴀʏ ᴊᴜᴍᴘ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʜᴏsᴛs. Yᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ sᴘᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ 99 ᴘᴇʀᴄᴇɴᴛ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ʜᴏsᴛs.
"Oh," Shinji said.
He fell silent for a moment, looking at his hands in his lap. Finally, he spoke.
"Can I give you a name?"
Yᴏᴜ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ?
"Well yeah," Shinji said, feeling oddly embarrassed. "It'd make our conversations a little easier if you had a name I could call you by."
A few moments passed, and he began to get worried that he'd somehow offended his guest. Then, suddenly, came a Yᴇs.
"Alright, what would you like to be called? There's names like Furuya, or Kurobe, or Hayata-"
Hᴀʏᴀᴛᴀ sᴇᴇᴍs ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴀɴᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇ.
Shinji smiled. "Alright, Hayata."
Iᴛ ғᴇᴇʟs sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ. Iᴛ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ I ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠᴇᴅ sᴜᴄʜ ᴀ ɴᴇᴡ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇ. Tʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ.
"You're welcome." He laid down on the mat again, then reset his playlist and closed his eyes. "Goodnight, Hayata."
Gᴏᴏᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ, Sʜɪɴᴊɪ. A pause, then, I ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴜsɪᴄ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀʏ. Bᴜᴛ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ʀᴇғʀᴀɪɴ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʏᴏᴜ sʟᴇᴇᴘ. Iᴛ ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇᴀʀs.
The boy laughed quietly, then pulled out his earbuds.
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シン・Leviathan, Chapter Five: Outside Context