"You're staring at it again, Shinji-kun..."
Shinji was lost in thoughts when Misato's gentle voice startled him. He blinked, and looked at his guardian with a puzzled expression. It would be getting pretty cold again, tonight; a blanket was draped over her bare shoulders. Her dress was stylish as usual, but shockingly inadequate for camping in the wilderness, barely offering any warmth or protection. She didn't seem to care, of course. Shinji was still not getting used to seeing without her pendant; she had left it at home, lest she might lose it during their little vacation. Or so she had said.
"S-sorry, Misato-san, I didn't catch that."
"You've been looking at it for a while now; at the mountain, over there..." she said, speaking softly, slightly worried, and tilted her head towards the horizon across the sea:
"You seem... upset".
Shinji tried to hide the truth with an unconvincing smile, and he was quick to reply: "Oh! Not at all, Misato-san. Actually, I was looking at that one..." - his finger pointed towards a slightly different spot near it, to a bright pinpoint of light in the south-western sky. "But yeah, it will disappear in a couple of hours. Behind the... the mountain, I mean." he added, and sighed.
"Hmm, I see. I don't think you've shown me that star yet. What's its name, then?" she asked curiously, after her eyes had found it as well. Far from major cities, the sky was a spectacular sight - but sadly, the full moon outshone most of the fainter stars; on a darker night, it would have been truly breathtaking.
The star Shinji had pointed out was easily among the brightest, even though its light was diminished by the haze and dust near the horizon.
"It's not a star, but a planet. I know it's either Jupiter or Saturn." he explained, and paused for a moment. "But you're right, it's bothering me. That I don't know for sure which one it is, and I feel like I should. I could have looked it up, a couple of days ago. When we went to that bookstore, remember? There was a journal with the current positions. I was thinking about buying it back then, but it seemed unnecessary. So, I regret that now. Because I'm left with uncertainty." he said calmly, his eyes fixed on the planet.
Suddenly, little sparks crossed his vision. Some of the logs had collapsed, no longer able to lean on each other as the fire consumed them. Absentmindedly, he began to rearrange the embers with a stick, producing even brighter sparks. A short journey towards the sky, a merry dance to greet their distant cousins. Just a few, precious moments of ecstasy, before their light faded forever. But Shinji's eyes didn't dare to follow them; instead, he kept his gaze fixed on the burning embers below. "Man fears the darkness, so he creates light to scrape away at the edges..." he muttered. Where did he hear these words before?
"Huh? Sorry, what was that?" - Misato had been caught in her own thoughts as well.
"Nevermind... I was just thinking aloud."
After a moment of silence passed, before Misato spoke again. "Well, no sense in crying over spilt milk. It's not like you can't look it up later. And besides, you already showed me more stars and constellations than I'd even care to remember; you really know a lot about this stuff." she said, before stretching her limbs. He held up the palm of his hand in a dismissive half-shrug. "Well, it's not like that kind of knowledge is of any use right now..." he said, with the usual, instinctive sheepishness.
"Oh, you can't fool me with that nonsense, Shinji-kun.", Misato interrupted him - "I see right through your devious machinations!" she continued, and pointed her finger triumphantly at the full moon above her. "You worked in secret, calculated orbits, conspired with astral spirits, to pick the perfect moment for an outdoor date! I wouldn't have guessed you could be so bold, I'm impressed!" she said, grinning mischievously as she teased him.
Shinji's cheeks grew warm. "Hey! I-It's not a d-date..." he began, but relaxed a moment later with a sigh. "Well, I suppose denying it will only make it more true, right?" he said. Misato nodded eagerly.
"I see." - he nodded, and dared a to look at the moon as well, just for a fraction of a second. "Actually, that sounds like sound advice, Misato-san. About the full moon. I'll keep it in mind."
He took a deep breath, and got up.
"So, if it's a date, I should at least offer you a dinner, right?"
Shinji returned from their jeep, carrying a plastic crate. It was covered by a cloth sheet to keep out the dust. Shinji spread it on the ground, before arranging the various ingredients and tools there. Most importantly, the crate contained a gallon jug of clean water - they were beginning to run low on that, but thankfully, this was the last night of the camping trip; soon, they wouldn't need any more. The silence between Misato and him lasted for a few minutes, as he used a few sturdy sticks to construct a makeshift tripod over the embers.
"So... Saturn would be the one with the ring, right? Or was it Jupiter? I honestly don't remember." - Shinji almost flinched at her words, and he bit his lip as he felt a creeping uneasiness in his chest. Why on earth did she have to mention a stupid ring, of all things? "It's alright, she doesn't know... she surely doesn't know about it..." he thought, and tried to remain calm. He focused at the task at hand, fitting the piece of chain to the cooking tripod.
"Actually, both planets have rings. But Jupiter's are just thin remnants, almost invisible. Saturn's are very prominent, you can see them with just a pair of binoculars." he explained, almost mechanically.
"Oh, yes, I think I remember now." she said, and looked up at the sky again. "Hmm, I wonder if they're also..." - she began, but Shinji interrupted her.
"No!" he spat, raising his voice more than he had intended; he sounded almost panicked. He instantly regretted it as he saw Misato's shocked expression. "Sorry... I didn't mean to shout. It's not what you think... I mean they're just chunks of rocks and ice, infinitely many of them... that kind of ring." he said, with a shaky voice. He calmed down as he felt her hand on his shoulder.
"Oh, don't worry about it. I'm just curious why they're there, that's all, I didn't mean to upset you." she replied warmly. Shinji nodded thankfully, and he felt the tremors in his hands die down as he continued: "I-I've heard there was a moon once. It got closer and closer to the planet. And eventually, the gravitational attraction became to strong, and the moon got ripped apart by tidal forces. The debris created the ring. At least, that's the theory.". He began attaching the pot to the chain.
"Hmm, how curious. It got drawn too close, and couldn't endure it any longer. So, what you mean is, that is was - destroyed by love?" she said, smiling mysteriously. That gave him pause; unsure how to respond, he scratched his head for a moment, unable to look at her. "Well... that's a... strange way to put it. Uhmm... it's kinda... poetic, I guess.".
Misato simply hummed in agreement. "Women are really weird..." he thought, avoiding her eyes for a few moments, before he continued to speak.
"But now, it's just a grave, a monument, built from pieces of that moon. Remembrance to a catastrophe. But the rings won't be forever - they'll be gone in a relatively short time. We're just lucky to see them at this moment in time." Shinji mused, while cutting onions on a large wooden board. He was glad he brought it, as well as the small set of reasonably sharp knifes.
"And so, all signs of what happened will be gone..." Misato continued, speaking softly, "It's sad to think about, but also strangely solacing...".
He took a deep breath. "I suppose so. Whatever happens out there, is far more violent and destructive than we can even imagine, even if it looks beautiful. Stars and planets know neither suffering, nor joy. They have no wants or needs. They just... exist, until they don't, ignorant of us. I always found that thought strangely calming... but also sad, and empty. It makes me appreciate having been here, having experiences, being alive. Even if it's painful sometimes. I didn't understand that for a long time." he explained.
"Hmm... sounds like you've learned something important, during the last few days." she responded. Shinji thought for a moment. "At least... I'd like to think that way. But there's so much more that I'll never understand about life. In any case, you've been a great help with that, Misato-san. So, I'm really grateful that you can be here. I know I haven't treated you well recently, and I even... avoided you a few times. Still, you put up with me. I really couldn't ask for more." he admitted, almost whispering as he looked down.
"Oh, don't hang yourself up on that. You've been through a lot of trouble recently, I understand if you're a bit ruffled. You deserve to enjoy a nice, quiet evening for once!" said Misato cheerfully. "No, I don't..." - he managed to bite back these words just in time, before they could sour the mood. "Thank you. I want you to enjoy the evening as well - let's try to have some fun!"
"Oh, I wonder what you mean by that, Shinji-kun..." she chirped, and grinned in anticipation.
"Ohh... that's awesome! It's been ages!" she screamed and threw up her arms. Her voice cut through the eerie silence of the night like a knife. "What a surprise! I don't remember you taking any from home, or buying it along the way. Where did you get it?" Misato rejoiced, but Shinji didn't fail to notice a hint of suspicion on her face. That alone had the power to make him stutter helplessly. "I uh... I found it..." - her frown became almost unbearable, and he lowered his head - "I-I mean I took it, from a broken vending machine...".
"You did what? Shinji, I'm so disappointed in you! I never thought I'd catch you stealing!".
He gulped, and forced himself to meet her glare. "I-it's not what you think! It was in that abandoned amusement park we passed through one day, remember? The one that was abandoned after the... that angel attack. It might take months, or even years until that place will be reopened, I don't think anyone cares about one missing Yebisu can."
"Shinji, that's not the point, it's about principles..." she spoke in the most serious, parental tone she could muster, but Shinji's next words silenced her before she could lift her finger:
"You would have done the same."
It was a simple statement, not sounding like an accusation at all. Shinji couldn't help but chuckle at her defeated "Hrrmph!" as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Ah, alright. I can't deny it. I'm really just mad at you because you didn't take all of them, instead of just one." she admitted, and began eyeing the can like a predator.
Shinji was emboldened by his little victory, and decided to go even further. "You know Misato, I always wondered what that stuff tastes like..." he said, as he opened the can. He cautiously pointed its top away from himself, expecting a fountain of foam to erupt from it. But despite being months old, the beer was pleasantly cooperative as it hissed open, releasing only a gentle mist. "Shinji... you're pushing your luck.", she grumbled impatiently.
"I know, I know, I'm too young." he conceded, lifting his brows. He held up his thumb and index finger, measuring a few inches of air. "But... maybe just a little bit? You can have the rest! After all, I want to understand you better, and what you had to put yourself through by drinking this stuff almost every morning..." he said with a hopeful grin. Misato relaxed.
"Well, at least you're asking for permission, instead of doing it secretly behind my back. Which you would never do, am I right?" she said, prompting him to nod and smile like an innocent puppy. After a moment, she relented:
"Hmm, Alright, I'll allow it under my supervision, but just this once, understood?"
"Uhh... it's certainly... interesting.". Shinji did his best to avoid grimacing. How could something taste worse than LCL? "Well, if you don't like it..." - Misato spat, sounding deeply offended. She was about to snatch the can from him, but he held it protectively against his chest. "Hey! I'm still trying to find the right words of praise, okay?" he said, and took another careful sip.
"It's like... uh... a kaleidoscopic epiphany of aromas... I have been spirited away to the mythical summit of taste. Anything I've drank before, and anything I'll drink afterwards, will be downhill from here. Pathetic, nothing but a disappointment, compared to this divine elixir of monumental quality. That I could even be considered worthy of such... uhh... that's really all I can say about it."
"Hrmmph. You're damn right!" she agreed, her words amplified by an authoritative nod. Shinji breathed a sigh of relief. His tongue whirled around his mouth, trying to wash away the taste, sickly sweet, sour and bitter at the same time. But he kept the can for now, he wouldn't give up so easily in front of her. He just needed a little time before he was ready for the next sip.
"Speaking of that, there's something else I need to do..." - he stood up, and walked the few steps towards the old jeep again. Requisitioning the old military vehicle for "Pilot Recreational Use" had been a cheeky move on Misato's part, but she could easily get away with it – it was an utterly insignificant asset, a drop in the ocean, considering the grand scheme of things. "What are we going to do with it, after the trip?" Shinji asked, looking back over his shoulder. "I don't know, there's no real use for it after this vacation... so I see no reason to keep it, Shinji-kun." she answered. But he had a different idea:
"Oh, actually, I was thinking about Kensuke. You must know how much he loves this kind of stuff. Don't you think you could give it to him? As a birthday present, or something.".
"Hmm, I guess you're right. He keeps begging me to make him a pilot, maybe giving him that Jeep will finally distract him enough to make him shut up. But don't you think it's a bit too... battered, to be a gift? The guys I took it from seemed glad about not having to scrap it themselves." she explained.
Indeed, the jeep was in a sorry state. Not much of the paint remained, and there was barely any part that wasn't bent out of shape, scratched, or missing outright. Someone had left tally marks on the driver's door. Yet, by some miracle, it was still performing its duty despite all the abuse it had suffered. It had even survived several of Misato's near-apocalyptic driving lessons that she had forced upon her ward. "Sorry about that, Tree..." he whispered to himself, looking at the latest dent in the bumper.
"Actually, that might be a reason for him to like it even more. He's weird like that..." he explained, and stretched out his arms, as if to hug and caress the vehicle. "That just means it has seen action! A holy relic from before Second Impact, veteran of countless battles, built to last through the ages! It should be venerated!" he shouted enthusiastically, while waving his arms up and down. His impression of friend was convincing enough to elicit a chuckle from Misato. "Yeah, I see what you mean. By the way, do you know where he is?" - Misato looked around, as if she only now realized his absence.
"Hmm? Oh, I think he wandered off before sunset, he said something about exploring a cave, or abandoned bunker, or some such." explained Shinji, as he took off his jacket.
"And he's not back yet? Shinji, he could be in danger! Why didn't you say something earlier?" - she shot up and glared at him, but he simply shrugged.
"Oh, he'll be fine, Penpen is with him." he said, and Misato sat down do huddle into her blanket again. "I see. No need to worry, then. By the way, did you two manage to fix the radio yet?" she asked, while Shinji took off his T-shirt.
Shinji sighed sadly, as he looked at the bulky device built into the console. "Uhh... no, not yet. It's still broken, I'm afraid." he lied, surprised at how easy it was to do so. But the truth would only sour the mood.
Misato's head sank. "That's unfortunate... some music would be really nice..." she sighed. Shinji couldn't agree more.
Silently, he continued to strip naked beside the car, barely aware that Misato was watching him from behind. "Shinji-kun... are you really sure that's a good idea? Maybe we should just... you know, wait a bit longer, or find a different place." she said. He didn't even need to turn around to see the worry on her face. He paused for a bit, collecting his thoughts. "We've been over this before. I realize that it's wrong." he said calmly, and turned to her. "But it's what I want to do. Waiting would just be... another way of running away, again. I must accept what's unavoidable, while I'm still able to." he said, facing her, before he started to wipe his body with a damp towel. She nodded sadly.
"Mhh... might as well brush my teeth while I'm at it..." he muttered to himself, as he turned back to the jeep.
Misato let him wash in silence, before he put on his school clothes. "Oh, I'd never thought you'd wear them again..." she said, genuinely surprised. "Yeah, it was foolish of me to think I could go camping in these." he said, and chuckled at the memory of him falling into a deep puddle on the very first day of the trip. "But I managed to get that gross stuff out, with that solvent from the gas station. It's bad for textiles though, I guess I'll have to buy a new set after we get home. But this is an important night, so I should dress nicely." he continued. Shinji sniffed his sleeve, and wrinkled his nose at the faint, chemical stench that still clung to it. That smell was certainly preferable to the alternative.
"Hah, that's my Shinji-kun. We're in the middle of nowhere, and yet you still find a way to do housework." Misato said after clapping her hands, her eyes gleaming with admiration. He quickly turned away as he felt his cheeks grew warm again.
His camping clothes were worn and dirty, with more than a few cuts. The last couple of days had been quite eventful. He took the leather jacket and folded it into a neat square, before placing it on the driver's seat. He did the same with the cargo pants and underwear, carefully stacking them on top another. He nodded solemnly towards the stack of clothes, during which he couldn't bring himself to look at it. He turned away.
He was about to return to Misato and resume cooking; but as he closed the door, the tally marks on the door suddenly caught his attention.
Thirteen.
"That doesn't sound nice... misfortune, death, tragedy..." he whispered, and picked up a rock shard from the damp ground. "There. Fourteen. Much better." he said quietly, after adding another scratch to the last group of three. He dropped the rock, and wiped his hands on the towel.
"Do you know what that number means, Shinji-kun?" asked Misato, who had noticed the marks as well. "Uh, I don't know. Someone else left it, I just raised it by one. I'm... not quite sure why I did that." he muttered, staring at the scratches. A fifteen would have looked nice too, he decided. More... complete.
"Hmm... maybe because that's your age?" she asked, while straightening her hair. "Yes, I think you're right, Misato. That must be it." he said, and walked back to the campfire.
Time passed quickly. He kept chopping potatoes, carrots and other vegetables. Balls of canned ground meat, held together by egg powder and flour sizzled in the pan at the edge of the fire, sharing it with fresh mushrooms, yesterday's lucky find. He would add them to the soup later, when it would be almost done, so that they wouldn't get too soggy and lose their cohesion. From time to time, he checked on the soup stock. It was doing well. Misato kept talking.
Anecdotes and rants about insufferable bureaucrats and lazy subordinates, random gossip, opinions on home decoration; he barely paid any attention. She knew that, of course. Shinji knew that she did it to keep the eerie silence at bay. In turn, he responded with a nod, a "Really?", or some other phrase, concentrating on his cooking. It was a mutually beneficial agreement. Broken only a few times, when he hadn't taken a sip pf beer for too long, indicated by Misato's sudden silence and an annoyed glare.
The taste didn't grow on him, but he couldn't deny that it brought a pleasant, warm buzzing sensation to his head and chest – although, maybe he just imagined it. It made the pain more bearable, by making it indistinct and fuzzy. He instinctively knew it could never extinguish it. It was a momentary relief, and it would return with a vengeance. But at least, he now had a vague understanding of why so many people were so fond of drinking. It wasn't just for fun, as he had believed earlier - that was part of it, but probably, it was often just a pretense, to hide sorrow. He looked at Misato, and let out a sad sigh before continuing his work.
Shinji was done chopping. Now, he looked pensively at the little collection of spices and dried herbs he had gathered, as if they were a sacred treasure. A question came to his mind: "Umm... Misato-san? I'd like to ask you something. What do you think about this place?".
"Hmm... to be honest, I'd rather be in a city right now, but I think you guessed that already." she said, and let her eyes wander from horizon to horizon. Misato thought for a while, and began speaking: "I'd say it's pretty bleak, boring, and uncomfortable. But, at the same time, it's strangely... peaceful, in a way. And, the stars are really nice out here. I never realized it before, but that's something I really missed, working underground all the time. These rock formations look interesting, they remind me of that time I went climbing, with…" - she fell silent for a moment, and her eyes fell to the ground.
"Well, I wouldn't exactly call it paradise, but I think this place is not that bad, all things considered." she finally said, grinning after taking a deep breath.
Shinji nodded, returning her smile. "Yes, that's more or less what I think about it as well. Honestly, it's just a random spot I picked yesterday. But it felt like it had... something important that I can't really describe. If you like it just a little bit, then I'm at ease."
"So, how's the food coming along? It smells nice already." Misato inquired, and watched as he poured potatoes and dried beans into the pot. "It's called Eintopf, a kind of stew. Put simply, it's a soup where you add whatever you want. You let it simmer until it's all thick and gooey, and hope for the best." he explained with a shrug.
"Mhh... please don't take this the wrong way, but isn't that a bit barbar..." she began, and coughed, "I mean, that seems less... sophisticated, compared to what you usually do?" she asked. Shinji chuckled, before he answered: "Well, considering where we are, it seems appropriate. And it's a good way to get rid of our leftovers. I hope the result will be tolerable.".
Some time later, he added a few finishing touches; now the stew just needed a few more minutes of heat and occasional stirring. He still had a few pieces of wheat bread - they were hard and stale, so he was roasting them on a makeshift rack, after he had sprinkled some water on them. Hopefully, that would be enough to resurrect them into an edible state. The water in the little tea kettle atop the embers was about to boil, as he contemplated what he would make for dessert. He didn't care much for sweet things lately, so the dried strawberries, almonds, and chocolate bars from Kensuke's MRE bags would have to be enough tonight.
Misato had stopped talking, and he could see the orange glow of the embers shine in her eyes. She looked at ease, so decided not to bother her for a moment. After he was finished, he just sat there, falling silent as well. A long minute went by. He didn't look at her.
"Why are you not hungry, Shinji-kun?"
"Is that a weird joke? Doesn't seem like her at all... her voice sounds so strange all of a sudden, did I upset her somehow?" Shinji thought. It must have been impossible to overhear his grumbling stomach. He hadn't eaten something since the meager, freeze-dried stuff he forced into himself the day before. His mouth was watering at the savory smell alone. Still, he hadn't touched the delicious stew. He had filled the insulated pot to the brim; it waited on the cutting board atop the crate that served as a makeshift table. But so far, he had merely sampled the taste, by licking clean one of the bay leaves after removing it from the cooking pot.
"Quite the contrary, Misato-san, I am very hungry. But... I have no appetite. If that makes any sense..." he said, and stretched his limbs. "It feels... wrong, for me to eat in a place like this, somehow..." he added, and poked the food lazily with a spoon. "And honestly, I feel like it would be wasted on me." he added in a dejected tone, his head hanging low.
He expected a reply from Misato - be it angry, worried, or comforting. But none came. She simply stared at him, with an unreadable, blank expression. He shifted his legs, and began to feel more and more uncomfortable. But he went on: "I-I just... maybe I should just throw it into the sea..." he muttered pathetically, and his shoulders slumped even more.
Although her expression remained frozen, her words were spoken softly. She sounded happy and carefree, almost chirping like a bird. There wasn't even the slightest hint of accusation, or admonishment.
It made it much, much worse, of course. Shinji had a hunch about what she would say next, and he wanted nothing more to beg her to stop, to scream at her to shut up, to leave him alone, like many times before. But she knew he wouldn't dare to do so, not in this moment. Shinji knew that, too.
"You know, Asuka hasn't eaten well, lately."
Shinji gasped as something impacted on his stomach. It came from nowhere; cold, wet, sinewy.
"She isn't feeling very well in general."
Was it a hand? A claw? Some sort of starfish-like creature with many arms. Dead, yet it moved. Throbbing. Rotting.
"Maybe you should bring it to her, to cheer her up a little."
Whatever it was, it had no trouble passing the flimsy borders of his soul, and he recoiled as he slowly felt the atrocious thing sink into his chest.
"Oh, but you haven't spoken to her all day. No, you haven't spoken to her during the entire vacation. Even though you could have. But you didn't. You didn't try."
It clenched into a fist, squeezing his guts painfully. It relaxed, turning upward to scratch his heart from below. It waited, it was playing with him.
"You still feel bad about what happened on that day. You're afraid of her because of that, so you kept... avoiding her."
Hah. his favorite euphemism. He felt sticky, black tar oozing within him as the abhorrent fingers slowly punctured his heart. It frantically beat against the door to his throat, seeking for a way to escape from the horrid grip.
"So, that's why you made that food. It's for her. You just pretended it was for us. Otherwise, you probably couldn't have made it."
Starting from his heart, his blood slowly turned into thick tar. The black mass crept through his veins slowly. Deliberately. It became hard to breathe.
"I don't know what happened between you two, and I won't stick my nose into it. But you feel like you should make up for something, am I right?"
Breathing became impossible. Maybe lifting his head would help. His neck vertebrae ground against each other like rusty cogwheels. He lowered it again, with great effort. It was a nod.
"Then, you should go. Go and accept what's inevitable. Your words, not mine."
He managed to respond with a quiet "Hm". Another nod. That one came slightly faster than the first one. His throat felt dry. Was the tar beginning to dry up inside him? His eyes went wide, and he forced himself not to scream in terror when realized it: The stuff inside him wasn't tar; it wasn't black, either.
"Ughh... gross!" he shouted, clutching the Yebisu can hard enough to dent it. He had taken a large gulp; disgust at something else than himself distracted him from despair for a brief moment. A reminder that there still was a reality around him. He looked at the label again, imagining himself swimming in an endless ocean, clutching the can like a lifeboat, lifting his spirits enough so he wouldn't drown for just a little while longer.
"You just have a plebeian taste. It's my fault of course, I should have done a better job educating you." she said with a sly grin. Suddenly, her face became more lively again - "Give some to her as well, okay? It would be unfair, if I just spoiled you with that good stuff."
"Guardian of the Century..." he thought and felt a tear running down his cheek. Despite all, a dry chuckle escaped his throat.
He took a few deep breaths. The thing in his chest wasn't finished, of course, and it would never leave him in peace. But he could endure it, for a little while longer at least. There was still something he had to do.
"Misato-san? Do you… do you think this is is a good idea? What I'm about to do?" - his voice was croaky and weak, and it shook like his knees. Lifting the board with the meal felt like a titanic effort. Cold sweat clung to his back.
"Hmm... I know what you want to hear, but saying that would be dishonest of me. I really don't know if it will help or not. But you'll never find out if you don't try." she explained, stroking her chin. She had placed a few more of the logs on the fire, rekindling it so that it would last another hour or so. Those logs had traveled far.
"F-fair enough. I'll do that. It m-might take some time for me to find her... will you be okay? Waiting here, I mean..." he said, doing his best to keep the tremors from messing up his speech, or spilling the food.
"Oh, don't worry about me, I'll be fine. I have something to look forward to. Someone has to tease Kensuke to death when he comes back, right?"
He nodded, and forced himself to smile weakly, before he left the campsite. "Thanks for everything, Misato. Take care."
"Hello, A..."
"I thought, I'd..."
"So, uhh... m-maybe..."
Minutes seemed to pass between each attempt to speak. Finding her had been surprisingly easy - he had a hunch she would be here, in the center of that solitary group of young trees, by the tranquil lake near the seashore. From its calm surface, the moon reflected on the two, standing side by side. Speaking to her was much harder than seeing her.
She was still ignoring him, of course, as he stood next to her, his eyes cast down at the tray he was holding. Eventually, he mustered enough courage to peek at her. Asuka was looking at the mountain in the distance. He quickly turned away - he didn't need to look at her face, he knew what he would see. Cold, detached disgust and contempt. A hint of morbid curiosity, overshadowed by disappointment. A minuscule frown, only a homeopathic dose of anger – to show even a tiny shred of sincere hatred would be a needless waste of emotional resources. It was the expression reserved for contemplating a dead cockroach.
At least it wasn't directed at him in this moment, or at least not directly. He took it as a good sign, and lifted his head to look at the sea as well. It was strangely calming. He was surprised at how easily the words came.
"I was mean to you, on that day."
"When we had that argument at school, during break? I said I had no time to prepare lunch for you the evening before, that it wasn't my fault. But - I lied."
He sighed. Being honest didn't feel that bad.
"I did it on purpose."
"I really had trouble doing that assignment, it took me forever, and I was tired, frustrated. But that's just an excuse I came up with. I wanted to ask you for help with that, I knew it would have been easy for you to explain it to me. But I feared you'd say no, and I was angry at you because of that. Angry, even though I didn't even ask. And so, I wanted to get some kind of petty revenge, by not making lunch. It was... just petty, and childish of me."
"I'm sure you would have helped me, I could have offered to teach you Kanji in return. I could have done that, at least."
He sighed. "But... I think you already knew that, right? You weren't angry at me because of that lunch, but because you guessed the real reason. Because I... because I chose to hurt you. I think I knew that at the time as well, but I was afraid to really admit it to myself."
They listened to the crashing waves for a moment, before he continued.
"Well, no sense in dwelling on that stupid argument now. I should have just cooked something nice for you afterwards, to make up for it... I realize it's a bit late for that, now. I just want to set... something right, for once."
Slowly, he placed the board on the ground besides her feet. She kept staring ahead silently, her arms crossed in front of her chest. A sudden gust of wind blew through her hair. He thought he could hear her sigh sadly.
"Umm... so, don't worry if you're not hungry right now, it's insulated and will stay warm for a few hours, if you keep the lid on. But the tea must have gone cold by now, sorry..."
"I tried not to make it too hot... but I'm not really sure if it's right... you can use the ground black pepper in that little box... there's salt in there, too... some, uhh sweets... maybe the bread is a little burnt, you should scrape it off at the edges..."
He gulped. The relief he might have hoped for didn't come. He felt he had overstayed his welcome. Still, the enormous weight of the things he left unsaid pinned him in place. He looked down, unsure on how to end the one-sided conversation. Thankfully, a convenient way out presented itself in that moment.
"Oh... yeah, I can't recommend that stuff, it'll just make you sick. There's someone who will appreciate it though..." he said and gulped, before picking up the Yebisu can. He turned around, ready to leave without another word.
But before he could take a step, he froze. There was something on the ground. He frowned angrily. What idiot had left a shovel lying here, in this nice place? There was a hand saw too, a couple of meters away. He felt offended by it. Then, he began to grin, as he realized his idiocy.
There was no need to go back to the tent - Misato was right here of course, sitting at the shore. He turned towards her and tossed her the can; he didn't aim very well.
She caught it with an enthusiastic grin.
"Cheers, Misato-san..."
Something fell into the water. Shinji was startled.
Shinji took a deep breath as a wave of relief washed over him. A gentle rain of truth that cleansed his skin, driving away the fog that clouded his senses. Confronting reality put him at ease, for the first time in days. A rare, peaceful moment of lucidity. There were no trees. This place was dead, and he was alone, forever.
He watched the floating, half-empty can, as the ripples of its impact dissipated in the red liquid. Blood? No, something worse. Maybe he should pick it up again, and place it next to Misato's grave marker. It seemed like a better memento than that dreary cross he had nailed to it. But he decided against it, he didn't want to risk getting his clothes dirty again, best to keep a respectful distance to the red shore.
He was glad that Misato was gone, now. Talking to dead people in his mind was just another path towards madness, he understood that perfectly. It helped him to survive a little longer, but the result would be the same in the end.
"Reminds me of that ship..." he wondered, still gazing at the can as it bobbed back and forth gently, slower and slower. A week ago, at the library. He had randomly picked up a book about naval history, and read some of it in the evening, to pass the time. Something about a warship that was struck by torpedoes, all on one side, causing it to list. To prevent it from capsizing, the crew opened valves to let water into the compartments on the opposite side as well, to balance out the flooding. The men knew they were doomed either way - but by doing so, their ship would at least go down gently, in a controlled, more dignified manner. Choosing to remain upright in the face of death, instead of just keeling over. Of course, Kensuke had recommended that book to him, he remembered now. No, something that looked and talked like him, he corrected himself.
He was still able to banish these apparitions at will, but it became harder and harder each day. His friends from school - he could just ask them to leave for a while, and they would comply with only a little grumbling. Misato was more tenacious, she only left him alone after he got angry with her. Luckily, that hadn't been necessary tonight; maybe because he had tried his best to only show himself the things he liked about her. An idealized version, tailor-made just for himself. It was so self-indulgent, vain, disgusting. He was just using her, and the others. He denied them peace and rest, abusing their memory to entertain himself. Just so he could make his sad, pitiful existence easier, by pretending to be a better person than he was. Just so that he wouldn't have to confront his guilt for a few hours.
He was just running away into meaningless, convenient fantasies again. It wasn't much better than... than that revolting place he was before, where nothing was real. It had to stop.
"No more fake people... they're not real... they're just like..." he whispered. He thought he could hear Asuka, shouting something next to him. She sounded annoyed, angry, alive; he hadn't heard her like voice like that in ages. It made him smile a little.
"Ughh... you're such a freak! What kind of boy plays with puppets? No wonder that nobody wants to be around you..."
She was right, of course. Asuka was different, though; she wasn't a puppet. Far from it. He had no power over her apparition. She had been the first to appear in his mind unbidden, even before he had fully realized his situation.
He had wandered aimlessly for the better part of the day, just straight ahead, running, stumbling, crawling to get away from the shore as far as possible. He was wet, his clothes and hair were still sticky after he had emerged from the monstrous sea of corpses he had created. In a mindless stupor, unable to process what had happened, confused, starving. He couldn't remember how he ended up in that house. The windows were broken, half of the roof was missing. But it seemed intact enough - it wasn't another abandoned, lifeless ruin. Intact enough for him to realize that he was trespassing, violating the sanctity of a home. A cowardly murderer, a thief, a sneak.
Stealing from the people he had killed. Abandoned clothes on the floor, surrounded by sickening stains. Family photos staring at him from the wall; silent victims, persecutors, judges.
Hunger. Trying keep in the food from their kitchen, after mindlessly gorging himself on it. Failing to do so. Eating it again, like a rabid dog, out of shame for letting it go to waste. Crawling into a room, like an stricken insect. A bed. A collapse. A strange ceiling.
From the very beginning, the thing that looked like her always knew when he was weakest, most vulnerable.
He didn't know how long he had lain on that bed. Caught in a liminal state, neither asleep, nor awake. He was sobbing, begging silently for someone to wake him up. Pathetically crying out for his mother, for Misato, even for Rei, to come and tell him it was all just a dream.
Something else came.
Shinji knew immediately what it was. He realized that he had always known.
He couldn't move, of course. Even if his body could have obeyed him, it was too weak. A mosquito encased in amber. He was perfectly aware that there was nothing wrong with him physically, apart from the nausea. His body was gently incarcerated by something ephemeral, and infinitely delicate. Supremely nonsensical. A whimsical, playful, and merciless thing it was. As light and soft as a million tons of granite. It wasn't just immaterial; It didn't exist at all, so nothing could destroy it, not even a god: it was the definition of unbreakable.
It was very young, it came from outside. It was patient. It had waited just for him, since before time existed. It was impossible to ignore, there was no place to run from it. He knew that he must never look at it. If he saw at it just once, he could never live again.
At least, he could still move his eyes, that was a relief. Terror came. It wasn't him who was moving them.
"Aren't you happy to see me?"
He stared at her face. He couldn't close his eyes. He couldn't scream. Bile rose in the back of his throat.
"I know you like to see me naked. You like to look at what you did to me."
A stream of blood was gushing from her destroyed eye. A hole wide enough to see the wall on the other side. Something grotesque, double-jointed, hung from her right shoulder. The beak of some primordial avian, exposed bones and muscles, opening, closing, salivating blood. It had feminine fingers. It stretched out towards him, it teased him, it wanted to touch him. He retched. A mass of crawling maggots and ants engulfed his body. He was being crushed, compacted, very slowly, into a tiny, fleshy ball.
"You're not in the mood to do it? I'll just stay here, and watch... watch, Shinji!"
There was nothing he could do. His eyes no longer belonged to him. He could hear it well before his eyes were drawn towards it, to where her stomach would have been. And so, it began for the first time.
For a few, eternally long hours, Shinji desperately looked for death. He couldn't find it; death was a distant, unreachable dream.
She laughed.
Shinji had crouched down, hugging his knees. He shivered. He took a few deep breaths, and forced himself to banish the memory of that first evening. Looking at the floating can helped somewhat. The urge to pick it up again was there, but the effort felt too great. It also belonged to Misato now, taking it back would be wrong, even if she wasn't really in there.
The memories of the thing's visits were bad, if they overwhelmed him; but Shinji could handle them by now, he just needed some time. Usually, after a few minutes, he was able to stand again. It was fortunate he hadn't eaten anything, he wouldn't want to throw up in a graveyard. He sighed, and got up.
Thankfully, it was impossible to remember more than a few glimpses of what occurred during her visits. The memories were just pale imitations. Like a classical symphony played on a toddler's xylophone.
The Asuka-thing was a maestro of suffering; memories were musical notes printed on sheets of despair, and his mind was her orchestra. She had lots of material to draw inspiration from. Not just his own. The pain of strangers, massacred while he was cowering in a corner. Their screams were background choirs for her solo performances. Countless variations and arrangements; new themes were masterfully improvised each time. A double concerto. He was her involuntary supporting voice, forced to play along; at the same time, he was her sole auditor. Entrance was free, exit wasn't. The venue was hell.
Shinji cleared his throat, and rubbed his eyes. He had never believed in such things as hell, but recent events had made him reconsider. He stood up again, and stretched his limbs. It had been a good night so far, she hadn't visited him, yet. It would be bad, yes, but the worst part would be the end, as always.
He knew. He had known from the start, and she knew, that he knew.
The solution was simple, obvious.
She laughed harder.
It was all just an illusion. He just needed to get rid of it. Make her go away. After hours of misery, at the edge of insanity, his survival instincts became too strong to resist. It was the only way out, but it was unthinkable. Repulsive. But despair compelled him to act.
"Banish me. Avoid me. Murder me again, Shinji!"
She taunted him while his hand closed around her throat. She had no trouble speaking or laughing at all, while he choked her. It didn't take that long for her to disappear; she left with the promise to return soon. She always did.
After rolling on the floor and banging his head against the boards for a sufficiently long time, his consciousness was finally claimed by merciful exhaustion.
Soon after that, he began talking to dead people. She tended to leave him alone, when he was with others. Sometimes she would show herself, just to remind him she was there, watching from the distance as an eerie silence interrupted his imaginary conversations.
She never failed to pay him a visit every day, to spend some time with him alone; she always found an opportunity. Day or night, whether he was sleeping or awake didn't matter at all. Never when and where he expected it; she was supremely creative and unpredictable. Shinji knew, that if she wanted to, she could have done it more often. But she was careful enough to leave him time to recover, so that he could ensure his own survival. He didn't deserve to starve to death, that would have been too easy, he knew that.
He wondered when she would come tonight. She had left him in peace all day. Still, he had marked tonight's appearance in advance - earlier, on the door of the jeep. Her visits were as reliable as the sunrise, constant enough to serve as basic time units for a primitive calendar.
Shinji sighed, and finally looked away from the lake and the floating can. He was still standing next to Asuka. Slowly, he turned his head, half-expecting to see her. But there was only her name, crudely carved into the damp, rotting wood. He looked up. It was bigger than the other thirteen markers. It was ugly; utterly unworthy of her, no matter how hard he tried to hide that fact by sheer size.
Fourteen markers, all the lives he had pathetically attempted to commemorate, before he became too exhausted to place more. Fourteen days, all the time he managed to endure before he gave up.
Shinji looked at the laughable burial gift he had left for Asuka. It was so inappropriate, offensive even. He snorted derisively at himself.
"As if some lousy soup could make up for anything I've done to you..." he whispered, and his eyes started to burn.
He felt the urge to kick over the little pot, so that she wouldn't have to.
He lifted his foot. Tonight, she had been... different. Strange, that he hadn't noticed it earlier. He had had been too nervous by just approaching her. But now, he clearly remembered the few glimpses he had caught. She had been whole, or at least she had decided to hide her injuries temporarily. She wore the yellow dress, that one. She was... like he would have liked to remember her. Of course, he didn't deserve such memories. Asuka only appeared like this for the sake of the other graves, not because of him.
Maybe it was a good sign. Maybe she accepted this place, however pathetic it was. At least enough as to not disturb its peace. So, decided to respect it as well. He placed his foot on the ground again, sparing the meager offering.
Perhaps, Asuka had finally found rest. He hoped so. She deserved it more than anyone.
Shinji stood there for a long time, fighting with the lump in his throat, holding back the tears. He didn't want his voice to break when he was going to speak to her for the last time. He wanted to speak clearly, but eventually, he had to give up on that notion. Tears came. Shinji just whispered. His fingers trembled as he touched her name.
"Goodbye... A... Asuka..."
After a while, he managed to stand up; he had fallen on his knees, unable to let go for several minutes. He looked around. "Goodbye, everyone…" he said, addressing the other thirteen markers, able to speak more firmly. She was gone, they were all gone, he finally accepted it.
He looked at the Yebisu can one last time. A gust of wind had caused it to tilt over too much, and the contents were joining the sea as it slowly sank. "Date of Expiry 01/15/16", he remembered. Shinji nodded in agreement, it was a good day. He turned, and walked away.
He was staring at it again, as he walked across the snow white beach. At the mountain, as he had come to call it. It wasn't a mountain of course, just a big lump of alien matter. An abomination, an exception, a violation of the natural order. It didn't need a more distinctive name. It was big. It was dead. It was a mountain. An unusual terrain feature, a landmark that was visible for perhaps hundreds of kilometers. Of interest for navigational purposes, and not much else. There was another one, a twin that must have sunken into the sea. The missing half of an empty, idiotic smile. He resisted the urge to talk to it. It was dead. It had no answers. There were other, nameless objects as well, loathsome things, closer to the shore. He found their forms vaguely detestable, but he paid them no further attention. They would topple and disappear eventually, given enough time, rain and wind. There had been quite a few storms lately, that was a good sign.
He found a good spot; sufficiently far from the graveyard so that he wouldn't bother it with his presence, but not quite out of sight. Close to the shore, so he wouldn't be able to hide from the dead.
Of course, he knew there were other, simpler ways. Shockingly simple. But deep down, he knew he lacked the courage to end it that way. More importantly, it was wrong; being alone was his ironic punishment after murdering everyone else. He didn't deserve an easy way out, he didn't deserve to escape this personal hell. But he was too weak to endure this existence much longer - his mind had been shattered once, in Unit 01, when he was too late to help. Then, somehow, the pieces were glued back together – but it was only a matter of time until it broke again, he was certain of that now. He would become like an animal. Of course, he would be a supremely dysfunctional animal, unfit for survival. He would escape his guilt that way too - Animals were free of guilt, and therefore incapable of receiving punishment. One way or another, it would be the end. He just chose the path that seemed least embarrassing.
The crashing of the waves calmed him, and the thing in his chest didn't bother him too much for once. He knew the ocean was dead – even if there were souls trapped in there, in that fake paradise, they would just be mindless actors in a puppet theater, unable to perceive their true self after days of confusion and lies. Worse than dead.
At least he knew that Asuka wasn't a puppet, she was truly gone - no power in the universe could undo what he had done to her in that kitchen. That meant that at least, she was free. She was without pain. Like a star.
Shinji gasped and bit his cheeks, he felt disgusted by himself, as he realized he had just tried to find solace in the fact that he had extinguished her life.
He sighed. Of course, he was dimly aware that he wasn't to blame alone. That there had been worse people than him. What happened had been in the works for decades, maybe even centuries, by the most powerful men on the planet. He was part of the scenario before he even was born. He had been manipulated his entire life, observed and conditioned like a lab animal, engineered specifically for the role he had to play. The irony was sublime. A heart of glass, carefully crafted to be as weak and fragile as possible - The ultimate weapon of mass destruction.
It didn't excuse his actions, or lack thereof, and the decisions he took - he had the opportunities to resist, maybe even to stop it all, but he had done exactly what they wanted. He had squandered the gift of free will. The best tool an insane death cult could have hoped for. Well, not quite. His existence was the only deviation from the plan. The only life Shinji had managed to save, to protect, was his own. How typical.
But then again, it might had been inevitable from the start. Perhaps someone would have tried something like this again, in the future. Someone else would have been in his position; someone like him. It all didn't matter – he was left to bear all of the responsibility, by sheer virtue of being the sole survivor. That didn't bother him. He had murdered Asuka; that pain of that guilt was real, eternal. Misato. The few friends he had. Their families. The people he remembered, even just by their smiles. He could feel the gaping emptiness they left behind. The few billion additional lives weighing on his conscience didn't feel that heavy in comparison, that guilt was too abstract, to unfathomable for a human mind to comprehend; it was perceivable only by absolute loneliness and empty, stained clothes on the ground.
"It was just a lie..." he muttered. He was quite sure about that now, even though it didn't seem that way earlier, when he still had hope. People had a chance to return, like him; yes, he had believed that once. Just a few days ago, but it felt like an eternity. But now, he had enough reasons to be certain.
Maybe something just went wrong. Even an eldritch goddess was capable of mistakes, divinely incompetent after laying dormant for aeons. More likely, Shinji had managed to mess it up himself, his mere presence throwing a spanner into an unfathomable mechanism somehow; an unforeseeable side effect of his stupidity. Perhaps people refused to return, as long as he still walked the earth. Maybe the giant Rei-thing wasn't supposed to lose its head. Who knew? Nobody ever would.
Maybe his mother's bizarre plan to leave had doomed everyone else – or did she abduct mankind's souls into the void as well? That way, nobody would be left on earth who could hurt her son. Perhaps the years spent in solitude within Unit 01 had made her go crazy; she might have cared about nothing else by that point. Actually, she might have been insane long before that - it probably ran in the family. Both sides. Yes, that would explain a lot.
Maybe, maybe, maybe... He had spent days pondering questions like those, it was a waste of time. It all boiled down to this:
"I killed all of you. I'm the last man, and as such, my existence has no meaning - so I'll just wait here until I die. It's the last free choice. There's nothing else left for me to do. That's all I have to say about it. Sorry." he said calmly, and ended his short address to the dead ocean with a bow. He knew that nobody was listening.
Then, he knelt down on the white sand. Looking down on himself, Shinji realized that his shirt wasn't tucked in properly. He quickly got up and corrected that oversight. He was the worst mass murderer of all time, he would be on display for his victims forever. He would at least try to look presentable, he couldn't face eternity like a slob. With a satisfied smile, he laid down again, and closed his eyes.
It had been a good night, all things considered. A great weight seemed to have been lifted from his shoulders, and he felt at ease. Shinji hadn't felt so relaxed since the beginning of his second, doomed chance at living. Or, the "camping trip", as he had begun to call it. But there was no reason to call it that any more; that term existed only for the sake of his imaginary friends. They didn't need to learn the horrible truth behind it, he didn't want to bother them with that.
"No…" he thought, "I just didn't want to be reminded of the truth. They knew all the time, they just went along with the lie, so I could ignore my guilt for a while."
They were gone now; there was no need to lie anymore.
The only thing left to do was nothing. He was too scared to end his own life by violence, but the idea of just laying here – simply waiting until time and entropy consumed his body - didn't seem so bad. It might take a few days, but he knew he could do it. It was one of the few things he excelled at, his secret power. He just needed to get in the right state of mind, to think the right things, to conjure the right memories. But there was no need to rush, he had a lot of time. He decided to enjoy the evening a little bit longer, while he still could.
He opened his eyes, and, gasped. His eyes widened in terror.
Blood. Blood in the sky. A ring.
The hairs on the back of his neck tingled, and an icy cold enveloped him. But the shock faded quickly. It was absurd. It surprised him that he could bear to look at it now. Why had he been so afraid of that thing, again?
When he had first seen it, moments after re-emerging, it had terrified him beyond all comprehension. It shook him right out of the serene, otherworldly state of mind he was in, after leaving Instrumentality. He felt enlightened, enjoying a peace of mind he never felt before, during the first moments. All was right.
But as soon as he saw the ring, it made him realize that something horrible had happened, something so awful he couldn't even begin to comprehend it. In an instant, the sight had brought back all the memories of what had occurred before this day. It raised them from the recesses of his overwhelmed mind in an instant. He remembered everything. He remembered her screams. That's when he started to run away again. He didn't get far.
From that moment, he had tried to ignore and deny the ring. He rarely looked at the sky, and only at parts that were "safe", treating the red line like a giant blind spot. He had banished it from his thoughts and senses, quite successfully, until he was barely aware of its existence. He had wondered what he would do, if the sun ever passed through it, to bathe reality in red. He probably would hunker down in some dark basement for hours, shivering, in a fetal position, as if the sun had turned into the eye of an angry god. Maybe a simple blindfold would work just as well. In this world, he could be blind, and a thief at the same time. He just would have to be careful about mouse traps, while browsing basement shelves.
Some words he vaguely remembered reading earlier came to his mind. How did the line go? Something about sins piling up so high that they reached heaven itself, so that God couldn't possibly ignore them any longer. "Ohh..." he said, and his eyes went wide. Of course, he understood now, why the ring had terrified him so much. The dead sea wasn't enough - No, his failures were so great, so atrocious, they had to be on display on a cosmic scale, visible from the entire solar system. He chuckled. The ring was a truly impressive symbol of his great achievement, he should be proud of it. He had been afraid, because he had never received a compliment from a dead planet before; he was just too flustered to accept it.
He chuckled, and remembered where those words had come from. He had found a japanese bible translation, and skimmed through it out of curiosity. Perhaps he was expecting answers, or guidance from it. He certainly didn't expect so many lists.
Overall, he found it quite confusing. But to his surprise, he stumbled upon the origin of many obscure references that he had been completely oblivious about before. That alone was quite enlightening.
He skipped most of the parts about the main character; being virtuous, to love and care for others sounded like a reasonable idea. But given the overall situation, it seemed safe to assume that those passages didn't apply anymore.
Near the end, between impenetrable metaphors about angels, bowls and prostitutes, he found a line that he chose to memorize. It seemed to be directed at him specifically:
"But to the cowardly and unbelieving and abominable and murderers and perverts and sorcerers and idolaters and all liars, their place will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur. This is the second death."
Well, that had answered one of his biggest questions in a concise and straightforward manner, Shinji appreciated that. It also sounded quite lenient, so maybe there was hope for him after all.
Shinji felt his eyelids grow heavy, and he yawned heartily. His empty stomach ached, but he ignored it. He wanted to look at the ring a little bit longer. It was beautiful, in a very morbid way. Maybe he should give it a name?
"Baka-Shinji-Ring?" - no, too personal, too self-indulgent and capricious. This was an important scientific discovery, it needed a serious name.
"Ayanami Halo?" - Well, that sounded quite nice. But something about naming it after her didn't sit right with him.
"The Ikari Circle..." - Maybe that was something to think about; that way, he wouldn't hoard all the credit for himself.
"Shinji…", he imagined his father, solemnly addressing him from the sky:
"You have honored the name of your family. Congratulations, that was your purpose. Your reward is some rancid beer. Go away, you can die now."
It took a while for him to control his laughter long enough to answer: "Thank you, Father…". Soon after that, he fell asleep with an idiotic grin.
"I don't think so, Idiot!"
Asuka sounded angry, and strangely real. Shinji lay on the ground, his head turned to the side, blinking curiously as he watched the surreal scene unfold. She swung the shovel like an axe. Her marker fell with a wet crunch, then she kicked it into the ground, and finally spat on it for good measure. No surprise there, he already knew she wouldn't like it. Too pathetic, too miserable. A warrior's burial mound would have been a better option, covered with grass, and flowers. Or a mausoleum with marble columns? Better yet, a pyramid filled with monsters and hidden death traps. He should start building something like that. Later, after he had finished dying, he would have a lot of time on his hands.
Strangely enough, she was wearing her red plugsuit, she had never worn it during her visits before. She knelt down in front of the pot, as if to contemplate it for a moment. Then, she lifted the lid, just slightly, and lowered her head sideways to peek into the pot suspiciously, as if she suspected a snake, or a bomb inside. It was hard to see it from here, but it looked like her arm and her head were bandaged. Of course, she had to stop the bleeding if she wanted to eat, or else it would ruin the food. That meant she really wanted to try it, right?
Her she lifted her head, to look in his direction. She seemed... sad? Confused? Angry? Hard to say. She looked down, and up at him again, and down, up...
He quickly turned away. Better not to bother her by staring; she would just lose her appetite if he did that. If she ate first, he would have a little more time before she would come to visit him. He looked at the sky, and the crimson ring that bisected it. So, he could dream about it as well. He realized that the ring would disappear; in ten, to a hundred thousand years, perhaps. That was reassuring, but also sad. It was pretty, in a way.
It was a strange dream, but it felt nice. The first good dream he had in along time. He knew it would turn into a nightmare soon - Asuka had already shown herself, he was alone, she would come to him. It was a like a law of nature at this point; basic langley-soryuan terror-dynamics. But he wasn't worried about that, now. He was astonished that he could suddenly feel something like sympathy for the thing that looked like her.
"It must be so tiresome…" he muttered. He had never considered that. What was it like, for her?
Having to stalk him silently all the time, coming up with novel torture ideas, hearing him scream or sob for hours while watching his stupid face, getting dirt on her insides as they dragged over the ground... it didn't sound like dream job, now that he considered her troubles.
If all went well, he would be dead soon. Then, she could finally retire, and do... whatever retired demons liked to do. He should be easy on her tonight. Tonight, he wouldn't let himself be paralyzed, he wouldn't let her wait. No, he would get it over with quickly, for her sake. Then, they both could enjoy some rest. Slowly, he drifted back into unconsciousness. He felt good.
"Is this what... a birthday feels like? If so, what would I wish for?" he wondered.
"Just... let me sleep for a while, please. Just this night. I hope it's not too much to ask for..."
Shinji would never have guessed that Rei, of all people, would ruin it. Strange, he had never seen her before, or had he? He stared. She was gone.
The thing that wasn't Asuka lay next to him. It looked sick, tired; like himself. It stared at the sky. There was something he had to do. It was easy. He was sure that this time, he wouldn't even have to cry about it afterwards.
Epilogue
He cried a lot. Asuka still wasn't sure how to think about all of this. It certainly wasn't what she had expected. It was starting to become really annoying. He looked haggard, pale, almost like a ghost. He looked terrified. He hadn't said anything yet, he just knelt, and cried, and stared at her as if she was some kind of demonic apparition. Her throat still itched a little. So annoying.
With a disgusted "Ugghhh... I'm not very hungry right now.", she got up. "Wait here, I'll fetch that stupid soup for you..." she said, rolling her eyes. Maybe eating would make him stop, she hoped. What a weirdo.
Thanks for reading, & Congratulations!
