Ten: Race to Shizuoka!
This is a bad idea, Chairman.
We're already committed to this plan.
You're betting everything on one boy—
He's an Evangelion pilot. Do you have any idea how useful he could be, General?
I know that you're gambling all our assets on the Drowned Coast, including the Reserve Pilot. Trying to sneak him out under Lavrentiy's nose is insanity.
This is our last chance to recover NERV from HERZ's dogs; we will see it through to the end. Prepare my jet; I have a pilot to welcome.
END OF EXCERPT
Murayama, Shizuoka Prefecture, Japan
July 24th, 2015
The trenchcoat man was definitely following Shinji. Only two kinds of people wear trenchcoats in the summer: gunmen and flashers—either way, the stranger was up to no good.
Shinji peered furtively over the telephone casing. Sure enough, the shriveled old man was staring at him. He tugged his hood forward and crouched a little lower in the tiny telephone booth, cupping a hand over the receiver.
"He's still watching me. Do you think–"
"Could be NERV. Or worse, HERZ."
"What should I do, Lorenz-san? Should I run–" Shinji looked up again and saw to his horror that the man was limping across the street, his left foot dragging behind. "He's coming over here!" he said, voice jumping an octave.
"Calm down. Is there somewhere you can go hide?"
"There's an alleyway, but—"
"Excuse me, young man?" Shinji flinched violently. The old man stood outside the phone booth, holding out a map. "I'm lost and can't read Japanese. Do you know where the Murayama Sengen Shrine is?" The man had a thick foreign accent; Korean, maybe.
"The…shrine?" Shinji let out an internal sigh. So he's not NERV, just a tourist. He took the paper map and quickly scanned it. "Go that way"—he pointed down the street—"and take the fourth left. The gate's another hundred meters down that road."
The tourist smiled, took back the map. "Thank you." The old man stepped out into the street, listing heavily to the left.
Shinji watched him go. Something was wrong, but he couldn't quite seem to put his finger on it. It finally hit him. He's limping on the wrong foot.
He returned to the phone. "Hello?"
"I'm still here. What happened?"
"A tourist was asking for directions. Nothing to worry about." I'm getting paranoid. He probably hurt both of his legs.
"Alright, if you say so." He did not sound convinced. "You're pretty close to the pickup spot, actually. The truck's waiting at Fuji Engines and Bodywork a block over. Go around the back and tell him the password."
"U-Uberm—"
"Japanese will work," Lorenz interrupted. "Remember, act like you belong. Nobody is really paying attention, not until you do something to be noticed. If someone makes eye contact, don't look away fast—let your eyes drift by. Keep your hands out of your pockets, walk like you have somewhere else to be, and don't look over your shoulder. Good luck, pilot."
Shinji set the receiver back on the frame.
I should ditch the outfit. It looks suspicious…and hopefully the cops are looking for a boy in a gray hoodie .
He shucked off the jacket, dumping it in a corner of the booth, and unzipped his bag. Shinji buttoned the top button of his shirt and tied a red tie over it. The navy-blue blazer went on next, dirty from the SEELE cache but still serviceable. He beat off some of the heavy dust and stuck his hands through the sleeves. Finally, he withdrew a pair of round wire-rimmed spectacles from a beat-up case and peered through the thick plastic lenses. No prescription. Lorenz-san really came prepared.
He slung his bag over one shoulder and scanned the street outside the booth. As expected, the sleepy commuter town was deserted this time of day; the warmth that was oppressive in Tokyo-3 was murderous this close to the coast. Heat shimmer danced over the asphalt, puddles of phantom water that vaporized as he drew near.
Shinji trudged down the street, shading his eyes with a hand. A sandy dog dozing outside a smoke shop poked its head up. It lay back down as he passed, eyes sleepily drifting shut.
Shinji whirled around.
The curtain just moved.
He watched the shopfront for another moment, tensing his legs to run, but all was still. Shinji turned away, ignoring the prickling sensation on the nape of his neck. He hunched his shoulders and walked a little faster, mindful not to look back.
Shinji crossed the road and set off down a gravel-paved side alley. Piles of garbage bags lay in drifts beside rusty iron gates, some marked with corroded copper nameplates. The afternoon sun cast long, rustling, animated shadows over the cicadas chirped conspiracies on the stuttering wind.
Shinji stopped before a shoddily repaired fence, marked with a white graffitied apple. This is it. He checked the nameplate, drew in a long breath, and knocked on the gate.
"We're closed," a gruff voice said. "Come back tomorrow—"
"As God judges over the firmament." There was a long silence, before the voice cautiously spoke the countersign.
"We judge below it." Shinji heard the scraping sound of a bolt being drawn, before the door opened a crack. A bearded man in oil-stained coveralls poked his head out, furtively glancing around the alley.
"Ikari Shinji?"
Shinji nodded. "Chairman Lo–"
"Watch yourself," the man cut across. "Every window and door in this city has an eye behind it."
He pushed the gate open further. "Come inside, quickly." Shinji slipped into the yard, and the SEELE agent slammed the formidable iron barrier shut.
Shinji stepped over a broken cinder block, glancing around the paved yard. A half-built retaining wall held back an empty planting bed, around which were strewn various pieces of construction equipment. A car with the hood popped sat beside a garage door; an overturned five-gallon bucket propped up a partially dismantled turbocharger. A crooked house slouched on the concrete lot, the lead-gray paint peeling off in strips. His host slid open the screen door and gestured for the boy to enter. Shinji stepped inside.
The house was filled with the aroma of baked bread. Shinji took a deep breath of the cool interior air. A younger man pulled a loaf of bread from the oven.
"My older son, Kentarou," the SEELE agent said, shutting the door. "I'm Shinohara Goro. My younger son Yuichi told us you would be here soon."
"Um, I'm sorry to intrude."
Goro shook his head. "Any friend of the Chairman is a friend of ours…especially an Evangelion pilot."
"I'm not," Shinji said quietly. "Not anymore."
Kentarou set the bread on the table—Shinji and Goro took a seat—and cut a slice for Shinji. "You will always be a pilot, Shinji-kun." The man pulled up his sleeve, revealing ridged scars running up and down his arm. "Even if you never get near an Evangelion again. The Angel nearly killed you, didn't it?" Shinji hesitated, nodded. If the power had run out a moment earlier, or if the Angel held out for another ten seconds, it would have ripped me to shreds.
"Once you've tasted that feeling, there's no going back to the way things were.
I was a bomber pilot, you know. Right after the Second Impact. I flew twenty nine bombing runs; ten against the Russians and nineteen against the Chinese. They shot me down on the thirtieth—the ejection broke both my legs. I ended up in an internment camp in Suzhou, a hundred miles from the H-bomb I dropped. The guards beat me half to death and honestly I don't blame them." Kentarou spread butter on his slice of bread. "I wish I could say everything's gonna be butterflies and sunshine, but you know better than that, Pilot Ikari."
Shinji stared down at the table. I just have to get away from NERV. Lorenz-san promised I'd never pilot again, that I could forget everything that happened in Tokyo-3. He took a bite of his food.
"That's really good, Shinohara-san."
Kentarou smiled. "Thanks."
"He's spent the last ten years baking," Goro said. "I never managed to get him interested in the family business."
"You still have Yuichi to help in the shop, Dad."
"Yeah. Besides, I'll never complain about free food." The two men laughed. Shinji ate some more of the bread, soaking in the congenial atmosphere. Was this what it was like before Mom died?
"So, Shinji." Shinji looked up. Goro placed a mass of brown hair on the table.
He picked it up. "A wig?"
"That's right. NERV caught on that you were going this way, so we'll have to disguise you to get out of Fujinomiya."
"We aren't using the airfield?"
Ken shook his head. "We'll use the plane, but the airport's being watched. I've still got my Air Japan uniform and some bribe money, so I'll take the plane out of there. If everything goes to plan, I'll pick you up at the Shizuoka Airport. The Chairman will be waiting for you in Okinawa."
Shinji nodded slowly. "What time are we leaving?"
"Ten, so…" Ken checked his watch. "In about six hours. NERV doesn't know we're affiliated and there aren't any cameras near the back entrance. You'll be out of the country before they find out."
"Hopefully," Goro said. "Shinji, try to get some rest. We'll wake you up when it's time to go. Ken, take him to the guest room please. I'll tell the Chairman he's arrived."
Fujinomiya, Shizuoka Prefecture, Japan.
July 24th, 2015.
The landline rang. Benedikt cradled the receiver between head and shoulder, striking a match.
"Major Powell?"
"Yes, sir. We've got the airfield surrounded, and Katsuragi's team is waiting in the terminal."
Benedikt lit his cigar, shaking the match out. "How long?"
"Sir?"
"What time did WILLE get to the airfield?"
The head of Section-2 hesitated. "Around ten o'clock in the morning, sir. The plane hasn't moved."
"Interesting. We spotted the Third Child at…"
"Around 4 PM, in Murayama."
"It's currently"—Lavrentiy checked his watch—"8:30. It takes less than twenty minutes to drive between Murayama and Fujinomiya. Hell, walking takes two hours at most. They know."
They know that we know they were going to fly him out of Fujinomiya. But we know one of the planes sitting on the tarmac is registered to Lorenz's shell company—and they don't know that we know that.
He returned to the phone. "Captain, start moving WILLE down towards Shizuoka. Leave a unit at the airfield at Fujinomiya as a lookout and get Katsuragi's team ready to move."
"Anything else?"
"One more thing. If the lookouts see a group trying to board the plane in Fujinomiya, detain them. But if it's one person in a pilot's uniform, shoot them down. Wait until the plane is clear of the tarmac; we need the runway intact." Benedikt exhaled, watching the curls of smoke writhe and twist in the lamplight.
Your move, Lorenz.
Murayama, Shizuoka Prefecture, Japan.
July 24th, 2015.
Shinji woke from a restless sleep. He blinked groggily at the clock on the nightstand. 9:35. We're leaving soon, then.
"Ah, Ikari-kun. Good timing."
Shinji looked up. A tall man with a goatee sat on the other side of the room, diligently sewing a torn overcoat. "Um…"
"I'm Shinohara Yuichi," he said, setting the coat aside.
"Pleased to meet you, Shinohara-san."
The man smiled. "Yuichi is fine. I'm only five years older than you, anyway. "
Shinji sat up, pushing off the sheet. "Are we leaving soon?"
Yuichi nodded. "I'll drive you over to the safehouse. It'll take five or six hours; we have to go through the mountains to get around the checkpoints."
"How are we going to get out of Murayama? They know I'm here, right?"
"Already taken care of. The JSSDF is handling the north roadblocks; five million yen from Chairman Lorenz bought their silence." That's enough to buy a car. How rich is Lorenz-san?
"We'll be smuggling you out of here in the trunk," Yuichi continued."We'll pass you off as my cousin from Tokyo-2 at the Shizuoka checkpoints. Can you do a Tokyo accent?"
Shinji nodded. "Sensei lived nearby. That won't be too hard."
Yuichi clapped him on the shoulder. "Go get changed, Shinji-kun. I'll get the truck ready."
Ushizuma, Shizuoka Prefecture, Japan.
July 25th, 2015.
Shinji scratched at the absurdly itchy wig. Why do I still need to wear this, again? It feels like the bottom of a shag carpet.
Yuichi merged onto the highway, flicking off the blinkers. "So, Shinji. How'd you end up as a NERV pilot?"
"I don't really know. They told me that Father wanted me to."
"Did they tell you why?"
Shinji shook his head. "All I know is they've been following me for ages."
"I was sorry to hear about your father, by the way. He was a good, honest man."
"Thanks. Did you ever meet him?"
"No, but my dad did after a press conference. Shook his hand. Commander Ikari had to leave right after, though. Dad always idolized the Commander."
"I never really knew Father. I lived with my teacher until he called me back, then…." Shinji trailed off. "Chairman Lorenz said HERZ killed him."
"I wouldn't be surprised," Yuichi said. "Murderous bastards, all of them. Lavrentiy is the worst of the lot."
"The Commander?"
"Yup. The Apostate, Chairman Lorenz calls him. He used to be one of us, before he turned his coat. He sat at the Chairman's right hand for twenty years, hearing all of his secrets. The Chairman even gave him the spare key to his house. That's how close they were.
"What changed?"
Yuichi grimaced. "The usual suspects: greed and cowardice. Chairman Lorenz built his own fortune, but Lavrentiy was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. When he found out he couldn't take his wealth into the New Heaven and Earth, he defected to the Americans. He ratted out a lot of good men and women, including his own godfather, to the CIA. Then he threw his weight behind that bastard Yeltsin and destroyed his own country."
Shinji made a non-committal sound, staring out the window. The mountains loomed over the narrow road, stark black towers against the starry sky; the red warning lights atop the telephone masts glared like wolfish eyes against the moonless gloom. Shinji strained his eyes to see down to the valley below. What are those lights? Tiny yellow sparks glowed like crawling fireflies along the highway.
Yuichi frowned. "Is that NERV? Looks like an entire army."
Shinji paled. "They're coming for me."
"They won't catch us," Shinohara said. "Once we get inside, SEELE will hide you." They rounded a bend and a checkpoint came into view. JSSDF soldiers waved them down.
"Alright, Shinji," Yuichi muttered. "Remember, we're cousins. Your name is Shinohara Arata. Don't speak unless spoken to." There's no way this is going to work.
Yuichi pulled to the dirt shoulder and climbed out of the truck. Three JSSDF soldiers stood beside the road, assault rifles loosely slung around their necks. Shinohara flashed them a bright grin.
"Morning, friends. Just making the usual run."
The soldier at the front scowled. "It's three in the morning, Shinohara. Why the fuck are you running grass?"
"I wish I could sleep in, but you know how things go. Security's way up in the whole prefecture."
The soldier sighed. "Just couldn't wait till sunrise, huh? Fine, give us our cut and we'll let you get on with it." One of the soldiers stepped towards the truck and Yuichi quickly intercepted him.
"Sorry, but my buyer is…particular about the amount this time. I'll pay in cash. Arata, the bills please."
Shinji's voice caught in his throat. "The bills?"
"In the glovebox." Shinji pulled on the handle and rummaged through the cluttered space. He pulled out a large wad of dollar bills and handed them to Yuichi, who passed them to the platoon commander.
"Here you go, buddy. A thousand dollars should pay for the passage here and back." The soldier flipped through the bills, nodded, and stowed them in his plate carrier.
"Good enough." He peered in the passenger window. "Who's the kid?"
"My cousin, Arata," Yuichi replied nonchalantly. "He's home for summer break."
"Is that right?" The soldier leaned in the window. "Where d'ya go to school, son?"
"Um, Sa-sakura Middle School?"
"Hey, I think I've heard of that one." The platoon leader called out to one of the other soldiers. "Hey, Shiraishi! Doesn't your boy go to Sakura?"
"Yeah," the soldier shouted back from the checkpoint. "It's a good school—expensive as hell though."
The leader grinned. "So he got all the brains in the family, huh, Yuichi-kun?"
"Oh, fuck off," Yuichi muttered under his breath. The JSSDF soldier laughed and waved them along. That…actually worked. Yuichi saluted lazily with two fingers and pulled out of the checkpoint. They rumbled down the road, the lights of Shizuoka gleaming in the distance along the margin of the vast, glassy sea.
"See, what'd I say? It all worked out."
"Yeah…guess so. So, we're going to a safehouse?"
"Yup. SEELE's got one ready for us. Once Kentarou gets there we'll fly you out of here."
"You seem really confident."
Yuichi nodded. "Positive. Everything's gonna work out, Shinji. We're on the side of the angels, so to speak." He saw Shinji's expression sour and smiled wryly. "The Angels aren't quite the monsters they've been made out to—."
"You wouldn't say that if you'd fought them," Shinji interrupted, clenching his fists. "They're trying to kill us all—"
"NERV's told you that. Did NERV also mention that they shot first in both battles? You're being used, Shinji."
"You're an Adamite, aren't you? An Angel-worshiper."
Yuichi hesitated for a moment and nodded. "Yes. I can tell you myself, we had nothing to do with the NERV attacks. That was all Lavrentiy."
Shinji turned away from him. The Angels destroyed half the city. I don't care who shot first.
A long silence fell.
The car trundled down the last ridge and the city itself came into view. Houses made of salvaged wood and blue plastic tarps crowded along narrow, twisting roads, their tin roofs gleaming dully in the early morning light. Numerous kerosene lamps cast glowing specks against the vast mass of the buildings; a thousand plumes of smoke rose from cook-stoves and trash fires. In the distance, rows of block apartments stood in a cement curtain beside the sea, their drowned cousins poking from the shallows in piles of cracked concrete and twisted rebar. Shinji read a sign at the side of the road aloud: "Fukudagaya Refugee Camp."
"This whole city is a refugee camp," Yuichi said. "After the Second Impact, those who could get out of Old Tokyo moved up to Matsumoto—they call it 'Tokyo-2' now—while those who couldn't ended up here, in UN camps. The High Commissioner dissolved the camps five years ago, but the people stayed. Welcome to the Drowned Coast, Shinji. This is how the other half lives." They drove across a rough bridge and onto a narrow streetfront. The shanties pressed close on either side, propped up with bamboo poles and steel wire. Snarled power cables ran overhead from overcrowded transformers, snaking into the buildings through roughly chipped holes. The car bounced as they drove over a deep pothole, knocking Shinji against the door.
"Just a little further, Shinji-kun. The safehouse is near the old Korean Consulate; that part of the city is in better shape than the camps." Yuichi turned to look at Shinji. "Do you see why we believe, Shinji? The Second Impact destroyed our world. The only chance we have is divine intervention—and as soon as God showed up, NERV nailed him to a cross."
"That doesn't mean…wait. What was that last part?"
Yuichi smiled bitterly. "That's a secret NERV won't tell you. In a facility hidden deep in the Mojave Desert, the Americans hold the first Angel captive."
That's impossible…right? The Evangelion could barely kill them, there's no way NERV took one alive. He clenched his jaw. If they can restrain Angels, why did they make me fight two of them with a knife? I nearly died!
"That can't be…Misato wouldn't lie to me—" Yes she would. She didn't tell me about the plug bomb either.
The man gave Shinji a sympathetic look. "It's hard to accept, I know. I didn't believe it either, not when the Evangelist first told me. But the Chairman doesn't lie, not to anyone. If he says NERV has Adam, then NERV has Adam." They crossed another bridge and the slums gave way to a rundown downtown. The shops and apartment blocks were heavily eroded, cratered cement exposing rusty rebar. The road was bounded by a deep ditch on either side, and creeping vines grew out of every nook and cranny. The air smelled powerfully of gasoline and raw sewage; Shinji held his nose. "What's that smell?"
"The Abe River. The new buildings dump their wastewater straight in. Don't touch the water while you're here; it'll give you dysentery, or something worse." He parked the car beside a grimy rowhouse. Hibiscus bloomed happily from broken pots, spilling in a tide of crimson into the beds below the brick stairs.
"Here we are, Shinji-kun. Go ahead and knock, they're expecting you." Shinji climbed the short flight of stairs and grasped the blackened knocker. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
No response. Shinji looked back at Yuichi, who was rummaging through the trunk.
"Tell them the passcode," Shinohara said. "I'll be right in."
Shinji knelt beside the mailslot and muttered. "As God judges above the Firmament."
"We judge below it," a voice answered from within. There was a click and the door swung open. A young woman shrouded in a heavy winter coat stood in the doorframe; she still shivered, as if the balmy Shizuoka summer was arctic cold. "Ikari Shinji-kun?"
Shinji nodded.
Yuichi waved from the car. "Takanabe-san, can you take him inside? I'm just unpacking."
"Alright. Follow me, Ikari-kun." She set off down the narrow hall. Shinji followed, shutting the door behind him. The inside of the house was freezing cold; the hairs on his arms immediately stood on end.
"I know," Takenabe said. "I've tried to raise the thermostat, but Old Lady Yoon won't budge." They climbed a flight of steep stairs and emerged onto the second floor landing. "Now, Ikari-kun, there's someone waiting to see you." Did Chairman Lorenz come here?
Shinji opened the door. A boy with white hair sat at the edge of the bed reading a book, his back turned to the hall.
"Asuka, is that you?" he said, not turning to look.
"Nope," Takanabe smiled. "She's still out on recon."
The stranger looked over his shoulder. "Then who…"
His eyes fell on Shinji—he went completely still. The book slipped from his fingers, thudding against the carpeted floor. Shinji noticed his eyes first; red as the hibiscus in the garden and strangely luminous.
Shinji glanced back at Takanabe. "W—"
"I'll leave you boys to it," she said with a sly grin. Before Shinji could say anything she was gone, the door thudding shut behind her . He turned back to face the stranger, who was grinning ear to ear.
"I'm Nagisa Kaworu. I'm pleased to finally meet you, Ikari Shinji-kun. Please, sit down." Shinji perched on the edge of the bed. Who is this guy? Kaworu picked the book off the floor, slid in a bookmark, and set it aside.
"Um, Nagisa-san—"
"Kaworu's fine, Shinji-kun."
"Kaworu-kun. How do you know who I am?"
He smiled. "I've known you for a long time, Shinji-kun. Mr. Lorenz is my…boss, you could say. I'm here to take you home."
"Home?"
"To Germany. We've been waiting a long time to welcome you back."
"How could home be somewhere I've never been?"
"Home is where the heart is, Shinji-kun." Kaworu got up from the bed and rummaged through the desk drawers. "Do you like Antonín Dvořák?"
Shinji blinked, a little nonplussed by the sudden change of topic.
"I guess?"
Kaworu pulled a dusty digital player from the bottom of the drawer and blew the dust from the surface. "One of Mr. Lorenz's personal favorites is his Symphony No. 5 ." He untangled a pair of earbuds, plugging the jack in. "Would you like to listen?"
Shinji nodded and took one earbud; Kaworu scooted in closer and put the other one in. He pressed play.
The symphony began with a pastoral clarinet melody. The violins joined in; the flutes piped high and clear over it all. The music rose to a great crescendo, fell into a softer flute melody; the other instruments came back in one after the other. Shinji glanced over at Kaworu; his eyes were shut, taking it all in. He smells like incense.
At that moment, the door flew violently open. Shinji flinched, instinctively throwing up his hands to shield his head. Kaworu sighed and pressed pause. "Asuka, please be careful with the doors. Any damage comes out of our salaries."
The albino girl standing in the doorway scoffed. "Not my fault the Japanese build flimsy houses. Proper German engineering can take a beating." She jerked her chin towards Shinji. "Who's he?"
Kaworu smiled. "This is Ikari Shinji. Shinji-kun, meet Major Asuka Shikinami."
Shinji waved nervously—Asuka ignored him. "So, you've finally got him? How long did it take, four years?"
"Six, but we're not home safe yet. Has Shinohara-san landed the plane?"
She scowled. "NERV shot him down over Fuji City."
Shinji felt a sudden chill run down his spine. " He's dead?"
The other two children looked at him as if surprised he was still in the room.
Asuka nodded. "Positive. I saw the body myself, or what was left of it. Dead as a Dresden doornail."
"Asuka," Kaworu said in a warning tone. "You're upsetting him."
He died because of me, it's my fault—
"No it isn't." Shinji looked up in surprise. Kaworu's expression was suddenly somber. "It's not your fault, Shinji. Sometimes people just die. There's nothing you could have done to stop it."
"I've seen a lot of people die," Asuka mused. "It gets a lot easier after the first dozen."
"Not helping, Asuka. Don't you have a perimeter to check or something?"
She huffed. "That's what I was doing. All clear on this side; NERV's swarming the camps."
Shinji rose and opened the curtains. The district lay quiet and still outside the window, the streets deserted. Everyone's hiding. Shinji caught a rustle of movement behind a tightly closed curtain in one building; a solitary eye peered from the crack between wooden shutters. The rumble of an approaching tank drowned out the chirping cicadas.
Shinji lowered himself to one knee, peering through the very corner of the glass. A column of soldiers strode beside the vehicle, assault rifles held at low-ready. The tank rumbled to a stop in the street.
Shinj glanced over his shoulder. "Um, Kaworu-kun? There are soldiers outside."
"The JSSDF," Kaworu said. "We've paid them off. Probably looking for another bribe." Shinji returned to the window. The soldiers were coming up the steps; the pot of hibiscus fell off the post and shattered against the stoop.
"What unit are they?"Asuka asked. "What insignia is on the tank?"
"They aren't wearing an insignia—"
At that moment, the house shook. A loud explosion boomed from below, followed by the rattle of automatic fire.
"WILLE," Asuka spat.
Kaworu's eyes widened with shock. "How did they—"
"Find us? We've got a rat, that's how."
Another loud report, and the front facade of the building crumbled like a sugar cookie. Shinji frantically scooted away from the void, banging his head on the desk leg. Asuka strode towards the gap. "Kaworu, get Shinji out of here. I'll hold them off."
Shinji shook his head vigorously. "They'll kill you!"
Asuka paused, smirked. "I'm a lot tougher than you think, Ikari."
She leaped up onto a protruding brick and thrust out her arms. A wall of blazing orange light manifested at the tip of her fingers—the bullets skipped off in showers of sparks and molten lead. The smell of ozone and burnt gunpowder filled the room. She's—what? That isn't…possible. Shikinami pointed a finger gun at one of the tanks; the field folded outward in funnels of shining polyhedrons, fracturing into a beam of searing light. The tank exploded into a storm of flaming steel, a plume of inky smoke billowing from the burning puddle of fuel and asphalt.
Kaworu grabbed his hand and pulled him to the door. "Come on, we need to get out of here."
"She's an Angel."
They took the stairs two steps at a time, bullets whizzing overhead.
Kaworu yanked Shinji out of the way as the chandelier crashed to the ground in a rain of sparkling shrapnel. "She's not. An Angel, I mean."
"Then what is she?" Shinji gasped, holding a stitch in his side.
Kaworu seemed to consider the question. "Gifted?"
They emerged into the hall. Masked fighters in gray jumpsuits squatted beside the priceless Ming vases; one fired a shower of suppressive fire down the entrance hall at the attackers. A bullet flew mere inches from Shinji's head, punching a round hole in the interior wall; another reduced the vase to a pile of colorful shards. Kaworu tugged him down; they crawled along the hall towards the back door. A stray round splintered the corner of the wooden table; Shinji felt a sharp pain in his temple.
Kaworu glanced back. "You're bleeding, Shinji-kun."
Shinji touched the shallow cut; his hand came back wet.
"I'm alright."
They emerged into the kitchen, where Yuichi was stuffing rounds into a rifle magazine. His eyes are red.
"Nagisa-san, Shinji-kun, you're safe." He loaded the magazine into a rifle, racked the charging handle. "You're with me, Shinji-kun. Nagisa-san, cover us." He tossed Kaworu the rifle.
Kaworu caught it, his expression grim and cold. "Understood. We'll regroup at Point Lima."
Shinji stood motionless in the door. "You're…leaving?"
Kaworu fired the rifle down the hall, leaning back in to reload. "I'll come back for you. I promise, Shinji." He reached into his pocket and pressed a cold piece of metal into Shinji's palm. "Keep this. I'll be back before you learn to play it." Shinji shoved it into the pocket of his blazer.
Yuichi prodded him out the back door. "Come on, Shinji, we have to go." They took off at a sprint down the narrow alley, gunfire echoing between the high brick walls. Yuichi yanked him sideways into a still narrower alley.
"Where are we going?" Shinji asked.
"The docks," Yuichi said. "I have a cousin, a fisherman. He can get us out of here." They emerged into a wider street; a helicopter flew overhead and they ducked. "This way, Shinji-kun. We're almost the—"
Bang. Yuichi stumbled, shoving through the rear door of a deserted bar. Shinji's eyes widened with horror; a red stain bloomed against the back of Shinohara's white shirt. The man withdrew a revolver from his pocket and aimed it at the door, leaning against a barstool for support. "Shinji, run!" Shinji tried to, but his limbs wouldn't move. With a deafening crash two Section-2 agents charged into the bar. Shinji dove behind the table as Shinohara fired three rapid shots, clamping his hands over his ears. There was a strangled scream, a final gunshot, and silence. Shinji poked his head up. The two agents lay dead on the floor in a spreading pool of crimson. Shinji felt bile creep into his mouth. He crawled towards where Yuichi lay propped against the stool, another wound in his shoulder leaking red over his shirt.
"Shinji, take my gun," the man croaked. He looked down at his hand and felt a second wave of nausea—a gunshot had ripped half the fingers from the macerated palm. The revolver lay beside him on the slick floor, the grip ending in a mass of splinters.
Shinji looked back at him. "I can't just leave—"
"They're after you…not me. Get out of here. Don't let it all be for nothing." Shinji took the gun, standing up slowly. He took one last look at Yuichi before hopping over the bar and out the door.
Shinji burst through the door of the motel next door—and ran headlong into a Section-2 agent, he ducked under his arm and surged up the stairs. He emerged into a narrow hallway; he tried the handles but they were all locked. Shinji backed into the wall, his heart pounding. There's got to be a second exit. He tried the window. Locked. I can break it—
The door on his left burst open. Katsuragi Misato emerged from the motel room, flanked by five Section-2 agents. Shinji's eyes darted to the stairwell, where another squad of Section-2 had materialized. Misato approached him, a rather forced smile on her face. Shinji scrambled away from her, pressing his back into the corner of the room.
"There you are," she said. "Don't worry, you're safe now."
Shinji felt a hysterical giggle escape his lips.
"Why are you pointing guns at me, then?" Misato's smile wavered. She motioned to the agents to lower their submachine guns.
"I know the last few days have been taxing…" she reached out a hand and Shinji recoiled.
"Don't touch me!" Misato took another step closer and Shinji drew the revolver from his pocket. Misato froze—the agents raised their guns to shoot.
"Hold your fire!" Misato ordered, keeping her eyes fixed on Shinji. The barrel of the handgun trembled in his hand, the splintered grip digging into his palm. Shinji pulled the hammer back with his other thumb, struggling against the tension, and aimed the gun deliberately at the cross dangling over her heart. He felt cold sweat drip down his forehead.
Misato knelt, meeting Shinji's eyes. "You aren't really going to shoot me, Shinji-kun? Not after everything we've been through. I've had your back this whole time."
Shinji gritted his teeth. "The bomb—"
"I forced them to scrap that plan. You can ask Dr. Akagi. The failsafe would have been put in yesterday, except for me."
She leaned in closer, the barrel pressing against her chest. She gripped the frame of the pistol.
"Let go, Shinji. We'll try again. Come home, please." Shinji's hand shook violently; his vision blurred with tears. Misato pulled him into a hug. The gun fell from Shinji's nerveless hand, clattering on the floor.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too," she whispered. He felt the sting of a needle piercing his arm. Shinji's world faded to black.
NERV HQ, Tokyo-3 Special Administrative District, Japan.
July 25th, 2015.
Henry Powell swirled his glass of cognac. "A complete and unmitigated success." Section-2 could use some deescalation training, though. Pointing guns at distressed children is…counterproductive.
Allard smiled, pouring himself another glass. "Shinji's safe, SEELE's been ripped to shreds, and no civilians were seriously injured."
Lavrentiy sipped his drink. "Everyone played their parts perfectly. If anything, the person responsible for victory is Captain—"
The door swung open; the three looked up. Ah, speak of the devil.
Allard addressed the newcomer first. "Captain Katsuragi, please sit—"
"You used me."
Benedikt shrugged. "You did what had to be done. Besides, everything turned out for the better." Nobody of value was killed, is what he means to say.
Misato clenched her fists. "You told me he was in danger. You said he'd be happy to see us."
"He might have been happier to see you if you didn't go in guns blazing," Powell remarked, pouring himself another glass. "The special units we provided were at your command, Captain, so it was your own decision to demolish the building with him inside."
"Damn it, Powell, I wasn't the one gathering intelligence. Why didn't you mention the superpowered clone?!"
"Ok, we didn't know about that—"
"Or," Misato interrupted, "that he was traveling with SEELE of his own volition?"
Allard stood up. "Would it have changed your approach, Captain? Either way, the Third Child would've had to be removed from SEELE custody by force."
"It would have been nice to know Shinji might pull a fucking gun on me. You lied to me. What, Command doesn't trust me?"
"It isn't a matter of trust," Benedikt said. "The exact circumstances of Ikari's escape was need-to-know, and it was judged not necessary information for the extraction team."
Misato opened her mouth indignantly, paused, and closed it. Her expression dulled. "Fine."
Benedikt pulled an envelope from the drawer and slit it open. He drew a medallion out and set it on the desk.
Misato frowned. "What's that?"
Allard cleared his throat. "Captain Katsuragi, for exceptional contribution to the operational goals of NERV and the war effort against the Angels, you have been awarded the Ikari Yui Service Medal." Misato looked at the medal as if it was a loathsome insect.
"Additionally," Allard continued, "You have been nominated for the UNSC's Dag Hammarskjöld Award for Global Security, Third Class." Misato picked up the medal, her hand twitching as if resisting the urge to hurl it across the room, and pocketed it. She saluted and went to leave.
"Oh, Captain?" Misato stopped, turned around. Powell stood up from his chair. "How did you know Shinji wouldn't shoot you? I know you trust him, but surely…"
Misato's lip curled. "I had my thumb under the hammer."
Powell laughed aloud. So you're a hypocrite too, then.
Misato turned her back on him and strode out of the office.
Notes:
PREVIEW:
Ryoji here with your preview. The First Child's dilemma! Ayanami Rei struggles to come to terms with her abandonment. What happens to a tool that is cast aside, and what is the true identity of this girl whose soul is not her own? Next time on Herz und Seele, Chapter Eleven: Rei, Beyond the Heart. Don't worry, there'll be plenty of fanservice!