(Discomfort)
I will not say that I ever had hopes because I am not in the habit of hoping.
Before this day, my opinion of the Second Child could have been summarized as basically nonexistent.
She was only relevant to me insofar as she was an asset to carrying out the plan, and beyond that, her life was none of my business – It was her good right to live however she pleased.
I cared not to pass judgment on her, and I harbored no more ill will toward her than I did for any other creature.
That much was still true – I did not wish misfortune on anyone. Not even bugs. Not even the angels. Certainly not an unfortunate soul who had been used as a tool the same as me.
But mere moments after she had emerged from her plug, my previously absent expectations had turned to grim foreboding.
And that would be because she did not waste so much as a second to put us all beneath her:
"Units 01 and 00 were still part of the development process – A prototype and a test model. No wonder they could be synchronized with inexperienced second-rate pilots. But fear not, because the genuine article has finally arrived. Little kids like you are no longer needed!"
The Second Child had asserted this while pointing straight at us with her wide long outstretched arm and index finger, not in the least concerned that she may lose her balance so far up in the air.
She was several meters away, and yet, I heard Ikari-kun backing away under her piercing glare.
Captain Katsuragi, too, showed little concern that the Second might fall, and right away, it should become obvious why: For nor sooner than she had finished speaking, she leaped down the EVA's side from one armor plate to the next, down her shoulder and the arm until she came to stand right before us at last, a majestic boast conducted without a single word.
By the look of it, she was no less agile outside her EVA than within it.
It would appear that she must be a serious gymnast in addition to her academic and military prowess, as well as her record-breaking synchronization rate.
Yet she acted completely casual about it, as if her daring display of amazonian strength were hardly worthy of note: „Hello, Misato! Long time no see!"
„It's been a while! Have you gotten taller?"
„Yeah! I've also filled out in a bunch of places~"
It was only then that either of the two acknowledged any of the dumbstuck boys.
„May I introduce? This is Asuka Langley-Soryu, the ace of the European airforce and designated pilot of Evangelion Unit Two!"
Right on cue, the Second Child executed a glib, mocking curtsey.
„Please to meet you."
Then, she moved on to her first order of business.
Since I was still in my plugsuit and dripping with LCL, I suppose my identity must have been the most obvious.
„So you must be Ayanami Rei, the Pilot of the Prototype. Sucks that even the rookie's got you beat in terms of synch rate, doesn't it?"
I thought it best not to provoke her any further by answering that the exact numbers did not matter so long as I could perform adequately.
Her mind had clearly been made up from the very beginning – she stood ready with ready-made boxes to stuff us into, roles she'd made up for us to play in her great and glorious narrative.
I very much wanted to be leaving.
But having said her piece, the Second Child quickly lost interest in me and turned to the boys, still smirking with haughty glee. „And which of you sucked up to Daddy so he could play with Unit One?"
Of course, she couldn't have known. About the unfortunate estrangement between the Ikaris.
I sincerely did not believe that she did that on purpose.
But nonetheless, Ikari-kun's marked flinch was so obvious as to give him away without fail.
The pilot of unit two fixated him right away, looking him up and down with cold, dismissive eyes.
„You sure don't look very bright."
He shrank before her at once.
A sad, paradoxical sight. To think that one of the only two human beings subject to the same cruel fate would go out of her way to bring the other low.
I did not understand. I mean, I understand it in theory, intellectually, but in my heart, I cannot comprehend it – and perhaps this is one of those things that would have Dr. Akagy cynically remarking that I was but a simplistic facsimile devoid of vitality.
I understood of course, that man is descended from ape. Man was the first branch on the sprawling tree of life in which the fruit of knowledge grew to maturity, so he was awarded with the crown of life, but, in a sense, that was coincidence – among elephant, dolphin, crow and parrot, or even bee and octopus, there were many branches that were close behind and might have been victorious instead, had circumstances been ever so slightly different.
Man had been touched by the breath of god, but in spite of this, his vessel still comes from the lineage of ape, and apes, in their native state, live in strict hierarchies in which the dominant animals establish a strict pecking order – thus, the base desire for status and riches and the adulation of others lives on in the heart of man.
Often I had heard the Commander and Vice Commander despairing of the politicians and military functionaries that they had to deal with, whom they often cursed with the name of ‚ape'.
The Second Child's actions, too, had clearly been intended to establish dominance and claim for herself the title of silverback. She was welcome to have it, for it was no use to me, and I do not think that Ikari-kun much desired it either.
But just when I thought that she must surely be finished with putting us in what she thought to be our places, she one-upped herself right away: Making use of her swift, well-honed reflexes that none among our number could have hoped to match, save for perhaps the Captain, she proceeded to kick out the Third Child's legs right from under him, leaving him scrambling on the floor before her – and only then did she step closer, getting all up in his face from the higher ground.
Her ire, it seems, had been especially pricked by him somehow, though she could never have seen him before in her life.
„What are you, stupid?! Where the heck were you during the battle just now?! On top of that, you're not even alert! I was expecting you to at least put up a fight, you know…"
So she meant to challenge him to some… martial arts duel?
Clearly, she must know there that would have been no time to train him in such a thing… belatedly, it occurred to me that this was probably what she had been counting on.
No, even if he had seen her kick coming, there was no way he could ever have matched up to someone with her experience and prowess.
She must have known how this would go – and yet she was strutting around in triumph, lecturing from on high:
„Do you pay any attention to your surroundings at all?! Clearly, you have no sense of responsibility, and worse yet, you're not even ashamed that you missed out on a chance to fight with your EVA!
Guess you really did get picked because of your father's influence!"
Captain Katsuragi's belated intervention seemed lukewarm at best: „Now come on, Asuka, don't overdo it~" She didn't really take responsibility. Perhaps she preferred to overlook problems that did not make themselves too urgent, as was not uncommon with humans of an optimistic disposition.
If anything, she seemed amused, which would suggest that this was the usual, expected behavior for the Second Child.
I wondered whatever Ikari-kun or myself had ever done to her, other than simply exist though no choice of our own.
Though all things considered, I could not truly find it in myself to resent her.
The good Doctor may have chalked this up to my supposed ‚lifelessness' as well, but I just couldn't see the point. Any gripe I could have had with her would have seemed small, petty and ridiculous if one contemplated our circumstances.
She was really not so different from Ikari-kun: A red-blooded human forced to act the part of a machine. An innocent who had her childhood ripped away, at a much earlier age even – who could be surprised that she would turn out twisted? I knew nothing of her history, or what had compelled the family she must surely once have had to hand her over to the organization, but I'm sure she must be miserable, and sometimes, when they are miserable, people turn to someone who is even more miserable than themselves. I suppose that's what Ikari-kun and myself became to her, before long: Even more miserable people, to prove that she was not the lowest in the world. Happy people may still desire status or popularity, but they would not feel the need to trample others beneath their feet to get there.
Even Doctor Akagi was not so different from this in the end.
Seen from a bird's eye view, considering the whole web of events that had led us all where we were, the only feeling I could have for either the Doctor or the Second Child was one of silent pity.
Whether I begrudged them or not, it would never change anything.
There was absolutely nothing I could do, nothing a grudge would avail here, for I had no choice but to follow my one and only path. Nor would resisting them change their behavior in any way, except perhaps to make their lashing out worse. Best not to draw more of their ire. In the end, they could only be what they are, just as I could only be what I am. They had not chosen the present state of the world any more than I had. We were simply all pressed together here, helpless to resist, hopeless to escape, pressed together without either of our intentions.
One does not grudge the storm on the horizon. One merely avoids it.
…
We ended up returning to headquarters by helicopter, in a craft that had originally been dispatched to collect Ikari-kun for deployment. It was much too late since the angel was long gone by the time it arrived, but Captain Katsuragi decided that, since it was here, we might as well make use of it to shorten our return trip.
It took only about three-fourths of an hour for u to find ourselves back in the geofront and, in the case of those deployed in the battle, changed back into everyday clothes – The Second Child had donned a light yellow sundress.
It was a little sad just how quickly things proceeded – the demise of the unfortunate angel had barely slowed us down, like xier entire existence was nothing more than a casual errand, extinguished in a blip.
But did we even think of the flowers by the wayside after they withered away? We may remember that there were flowers at all, but hardly each individual one, and we cared not how they might go through several generations as we passed their home day after day, hardly noting the changes in the colorful patterns in the green which our eyes but barely grazed.
These little flowers were forgotten creatures, without a voice or even a name. In that sense we were alike. I didn't like this.
When Captain Katsuragi departed alongside the pilot of Unit Two to take care of some of the paperwork relating to her transfer, I had no desire to tag along or share the Second Child's company any longer than strictly necessary.
Had it been all up to me, I would have left for my apartment, for I desired greatly to be without company, but as it stood, the Captain still intended to make good on her promise of treating us all to lunch, though the destination had must needs been moved to NERV's cafeteria.
If I didn't show, I might be questioned about it and as a superior officer, Captain Katsuragi could technically order me to attend, so attend I would.
Until then, I'd decided to follow after the boys, just for the purpose of not completely losing track of the group – I trailed behind them at a distance only noting their discussions on the periphery.
Suzuhara, apparently, was none too charmed with the Second Child:
„Seriously, who does that bitch even think she is?! Does she got some screws loose or somethin'?"
„Still, you've gotta admit that it's kind of awesome that she's in the airforce despite being the same age as us. Not too hard on the eyes, either."
„Yeah, so long as she doesn't talk maybe."
„I kind of want her to step on me…"
„You know, Kensuke, if you let her hear that, she might actually squash you under EVA 02's feet..."
I did not really understand much of it – I mean, I did, intellectually. I had read books, paid attention in biology class. It is not that I was unaware that they were discussing the Second Child's physical attractiveness. I could have explained to you, abstractly, why they were doing it.
But I did not understand.
I only knew about it.
And not in the sense that some humans are sometimes born without the urge to mate or pair up, or with more sensitive configurations that would cause them not to enjoy touch – I was aware that being a person is less a set of hard criteria than it is a homeostatic property cluster, such as being a mammal – a bundle of traits that often occurs together, even if not every member shares every single one.
The difference between them and me was not so simple as such a basic misunderstanding.
Rather it is that I looked on, as I always did, as a visitor from a strange place might, one who had never heard of people or society or their culture, their urges and desires, except as one might from reading of it in a book. Except as one might learn from watching, but never taking part.
People are notable of course, they would be notable even if seen from space. Venus and Mars don't have creatures constructing particle accelerators or ultra-cold chambers that may hold the coldest spots in the universe.
Mars and Venus also don't have colonies of ants either, or networks of fungi.
For the most part, my classmates were negative entropic eddies in a chaotic universe.
Phenomena in the field of my awareness.
I know how Fungi procreate, but it does not occur to me to attempt to mate with them.
I would not have the right parts or means of communication – and so it is with my classmates.
Besides, the mushrooms are programmed by nature to have pairing up as a part of their code, whereas the reasons for my creation did not involve this at all, though I may have some residuals of both physical and mental functionality as a result of being derived in part from people.
Even so, we can have some relationship, I suppose. People keep friendships with pets or keep plants in their homes, though a potted plant may not have the capacity to recognize its waterer as a benefactor – though plants are very much capable of exchanging meaningful information with each other.
Forests share nutrients through a network of fungal hyphens.
So, to be in a forest is much like being in my classroom.
A being standing alone amid interconnected networks that don't really include it.
Acacia trees warn each other of predators. The scent of recently mowed grass is in fact their stress signal.
Their screaming, though people cannot hear it.
'Blessed are those who said a voice', it has once been said, 'We feel sorrow for a trapped bird that cries in distress, but the mute gasps of a fish do not move us'
Of course, people do not care for the suffering of birds, or even other humans, if they cannot hear it. Or even if they can, sometimes.
I had an example fresh in memory with the Second Child's recent display of dominance.
So it is natural enough that the people at NERV don't concern themselves much with my suffering.
It must not be apparent on my face much, as it may be with them.
But if it were, would anyone come?
Other blades of grass understand the screams of grasses, and perhaps fish know the distress of fish, but I am the only thing of my kind in all of the entire world.
It may not be altogether evitable, but I for my part have tried to tread as lightly as I could in my brief time here and keep low the number of things that were killed to sustain an existence such as I. I try to leave as little of a trace as I can. First, because I wish not to cause suffering, and secondly, because I am, by definition, a means rather than an end….
…
It was not long until Captain Katsuragi came to meet up with us at the cafeteria, of course with the Second Child in tow. She declared upon arrival that we could have whatever we wanted, which sent both my classmates and our new pilot straight on their way to peruse the selection of cakes.
I would have declined, seeing as I was not especially desirous of any of the meals on display, but when the Captain urged me "not to be shy", I took that as a sign that participation was expected, so I picked out a small bowl of soup, a breadstick and a bottle of milk tea.
I figured the tea might be a good choice for what was shaping up to be a long, exhausting day despite requiring very little of my actual participation.
Before long, everyone was seated around a table –
It was another conversation that I didn't have much to add to.
The Captain was apparently quite familiar with the Second and had been waiting for a good opportunity to catch up with her, speaking mostly on casual, trivial matters, referencing events and places I had never heard off – I'm not certain what my classmates were thinking. I suppose they might have been interested in hearing more details of the Captain's personal life.
I was just focused on slowly eating my food to be done with it.
The conversation was something that I was outside of, irrelevant to.
Something that I might, at most, watch for lack of anything else to think about, but for the most part, had tuned out.
The closest that it came to veering into the circle of things significant to me was when the subject turned to the battles:
"Good work with the angel, by the way. Nice initiative – same with the other one, too, we all saw it on tape. Looks like our Second Child is still as amazing as I remember~ You're still head and shoulders above our little newbie here."
"Oh, I can't be that good, tee hee~"
It was evident that she was just saying these words as part of a rehearsed social script, the local custom of feigning modesty – even without the need to look at her, the tone of her voice betrayed that she was relishing the attention.
Another such paradoxical act, of following some arbitrary ritual of courtesy that mandated saying the opposite of what one actually meant, but therein being so careless that the truth of what one meant was revealed regardless, and not at all without intention,
a charade that, for all intents and purposes, should have rendered itself futile, and yet persisted, unacknowledged by words.
The Captain kept smiling as if the contradiction were barely worth a mention.
I kept spooning my lunch into myself, and you would expect of one who had not the skills or expertise or fine understandings to contribute to anything that was so far beyond the circles of relevance that I moved through.
I thought it safe enough to disengage my thoughts from the strands of foreign conversation, to focus only on some corner of the tray in front of me, to sink wholly into the deep calm release of my heart as I proceeded to shovel dead things into my face, dead things at least, that had never had faces.
I'd been premature in disengaging my attention – all the more jarring the noise that snapped me out of my drifting immersion, chair legs scratching along the floor sharply enough that I thought it well justified turning around in my seat to heed the source of the Captain's sudden squeak.
There was a man, suddenly. Tall, with long dark messy hair tied in a ponytail and a face full of stubble.
It was not anyone I would have recognized.
I didn't understand – was it not unusual for people to grasp others from behind suddenly as they were sitting in their chairs?
I had not witnessed this before. I could not recall many examples from books, either.
Should I be concerned?
Is intervention required?
Uncertain of how to parse the situation, I looked up to the Captain's face, since it follows that she would be the one left in distress if the needed intervention were not given, or inconvenienced if a normal, wanted interaction were interfered with.
I believed her to be in need of assistance at first, for her legs flailed somewhat and she gripped onto his hands with his own, but it seems the moment she got a good look at his face, she stopped and remained there frozen in place.
At last, an explanation for what's happening arrived from an altogether different source:
The Second Child.
I'd had my back turned to her, since I had turned to face these novel going-ons, but I heard the legs of her chair scratching against the floor, her shoes slapping down on the tiles as she jumped to her feet, aided by her palms on the table. In a split-second she had righted herself, in the next, she was speeding around the table, exclaiming in great enthusiasm: "Kaji-san!"
That, it seems, would be the stranger's name.
He smirked down at the Captain with an irreverent affectation of a grave concerned tone.
"Still drinking in the middle of the day I see. You're gonna end up with a beer gut."
That was right about when the Captain regained her bearings – in a manner of speaking – she leaped right out from under his arms unto the table, throwing down her chair in the process.
"What are you doing here?!"
Unperturbed, the stranger calmly picked it up by the backrest and righted it.
"That's an interesting way to say hello after we haven't seen each other in almost eight years!"
By then, the Second Child had made her way into my field of vision and fiercely attached herself to the newcomer's arm.
With his free hand, he pointed to her by way of explanation, a big, nonchalant grin plastered on his face: "I accompanied Asuka on her way here."
"Well great!" snapped Captain Katsuragi, "Then isn't it about time that you were on your way back to Europe?"
"I'm afraid not~ I'm being transferred here as well."
"I see…."
He noted her attempts at composure with a thin, sly grin.
Then he turned to other business, such as the other occupants of the table.
The pilot of Unit Two clung to his side even as he stepped closer.
"So, I take it you are Ikari Shinji-kun?"
Ikari-kun appeared surprised to be addressed. "How'd you know who I am?"
"Everyone knows who you are – at least in our business. The legendary Third Child", he declared, holding our three fingers for emphasis – "The only person to ever activate an EVA without training – and still defeated three angels with his own hands."
Still grinning, Kaji placed a hand on top of my hair.
"I know about Rei as well, of course."
I realize now that it was intended as a fond, affectionate gesture, but at the time, I found it uncomfortable due to its suddenness. When he removed his hand, an unpleasant echo of his grasp remained behind.
I could not think of much else in that instant – I only noted Ikari-kun's reply on the periphery:
"...that's overstating it… it was only luck…"
"That 'luck' is part of your ability – a hidden talent. Your destiny even."
That proved too much for the Second Child. Having shown evidence of a grudge in the first place, her glare displaced her polished smile more and more the longer that Mr. Kaji has paid attention to Ikari-kun. At last, it seems she could not take whatever injustice she perceived in this: "Well, I nailed the other two! Just wait till the next one shows up – I'll get even in no time at all!"
Sensing the tension perhaps, THE Captain#s old acquaintance decided to change the topic: "So, I heard that you moved in with Katsuragi. Does she still sleep sprawled all over the bed?"
That had seemed to me no different from any of the other trivia that had been exchanged at this table, such as the stories that the Captain and the Second child had exchanged while catching up, so, I calmly continued eating my meal -
until the table was shaken by considerable motion.
It seemed that for some reason, almost everyone had backed away, scandalized, reacting somehow. The Second Child. Captain Katsuragi herself. Aida and Suzuhara, who had said little while there were facts about NERV or the Captain's person to be taken in.
Their faces in particular were quite reddened – "In… in bed?" stammered Aida, as if taken by some strong impression.
Was there something I alone was missing? Another of those human things that Dr. Akagi thought I might never understand?
No, I think not. Ikari-kun seemed to have missed whatever it was s well, ready to cheerfully answer until the commotion around him registered.
Just as he fell silent, Captain Katsuragi slapped a fast on the table: "WHAT ARE YOU SAYING! In front of Children, no less! - GO AWAY!" she fumed.
His grin unshaken, the man seemed to be in no serious hurry to comply, taking the time to address us with a casual wave: "See you later then!"
"That guy was sure of himself." summarized Suzuhara.
Off to the side, Captain Katsuragi still appeared somewhat distressed.
I wish I understood why exactly – I might have been able to help in some way.
…
I'm not sure what kind of history there might have been between Captain Katsuragi and this Kaji person.
I did not spend any further time considering it, since it was so clearly outside the scope of relevance. It wasn't really any of my business or for me to concern myself with.
I noted what I did only in passing because it had tangentially brushed against my consciousness and attention.
The Second Child, however, was a different matter.
Looking on as Captain Katsuragi explained to her the layout of headquarters and such organizational details and procedures as she would need to know for the purposes of training and deployment, the Third Child stood waiting. I suppose he had no choice but to stay put until they were done if he planned to leave along with the Captain.
I too, was now merely waiting to be dismissed.
I was looking forward to the release of solitude.
But not yet. Left to idle by himself, Ikari-kun moved closer to where I was standing.
After this long, long day, I found myself resistant to being taxed any further unless it were for something necessary for the plan, but I had no good reason to preempt the conversation, either.
Besides, I suppose that, if he felt comfortable approaching me after enduring much the same ordeal, that was not a worthless thing.
I understood that a certain degree of availability would be required if this entire 'friendship' thing was to have a chance at success.
"So that's the Second Child, huh…" he mused, poorly concealing an undertone of disconcertment. Unsurprisingly, the reality of her person had not done much to quell the worries that had preempted her arrival.
"Asuka Langley-Soryu… Who would have thought that there are actually people who are glad to be EVA pilots…"
I wondered how much that is truly the case. I didn't think it could truly be that simple, but, as I couldn't possibly know for sure, I remained silent.
Unimpeded by prompts to respond, Ikari-kun continued monologuing on the contents of that which was weighing on his mind:
"I wonder if we'll ever be able to get along with her…"
"We'll have to." I reminded him – unpleasant as though this necessity may be, it's reality was undeniable: "It's a part of our mission."
Whatever reassurance he may have sought from me, I don't think I had successfully provided it.
I'm not sure how I could have – his concern had only one factual answer, so that was the only one I could give.
I contemplated still if I should add anything onto my words, and if yes, what that something might be, when all such thoughts were swiftly rendered irrelevant by Captain Katsuragi's sweeping approach.
"Soo, you two, how about we all give Asuka a little tour of headquarters?"
She said 'how about', which meant it may be optional.
"Excuse me, Captain - is my participation required for this?"
Captain Katsuragi blinked, her enthusiasm somewhat deflated.
"Well, uh, I'm not gonna make you stay if you don't want to." admitted the Captain, somewhat stumped still but to doing her best to regain her initial buoyancy.
Ikari-kun turned to look at me as well – was he… surprised? I couldn't really tell.
Looking at him, I almost reconsidered, but in the end, there was no real reason to stay.
"Very well."
As I turned to leave, I caught a glimpse of the Second Child shooting me a glare, but I didn't think much of it. I did not distinguish it from her previous displays of hostility, as easy to predict as they were difficult to understand.
I thought nothing of it then.
I think now that this might have an error –
It did not occur to me that my staying or leaving would pertain to anything but that tour of headquarters itself. I already knew where everything is, so what reason was there for me to stay?
But based on what I would only go on to learn very later, I think the Second might have seen my swift departure as a slight, a refusal to stay for and pay due attention to her introduction.
