Asuka & Shinji's Infinite Playlist

Chapter 21: A Song That Falls on Deaf Ears

Heavy tears stained the comforter on an expertly-made bed while the shadows of missing animals lingered in the room's memory. Love and happiness had long since fled these four walls, recently replaced with despair and pain. Stifled whimpers and hushed words echoed infinitely in the sadness, intensifying the emotion, as every trace of laughter and joy was washed away by grief. Not even the room's occupant could recognize the world around her anymore.

A sharp rap on the door frame startled the girl, briefly cutting into her sobs. She sucked her breath in and held her quivering lip for as long as possible: there were only three likely suspects to knock on her door, and she was terrified to face one of them.

A normally bellowing voice softened by pain and confusion slipped through the cracks of the door, and the one person she feared most spoke, "Assy, are you dressed?"

The door opened with little hesitation: it seemed her reply wouldn't have mattered to his entry. The young girl looked up at the blurred visage of her father and nodded her head slowly.

The man continued into the room and stood just beyond the threshold: he opened his mouth a few times to speak, but no words ever came. His towering height matched his emotional distance, an insurmountable gap in the eyes of someone so young. She longed for his connection, his reassurance, his safety, but he coped in his own manner, distinctly separate from her. How she wished to run into his arms, for him to lift her as he used to, to carry her away from this nightmare. But that fantasy had long passed; he had changed, in more ways than grief alone could explain.

His eyes looked her over in an attempt to spark a new conversation, far from any serious matter that would actually concern either of them, however there was no bridge strong enough to span their distance. Not anymore.

A heavy silence weighed upon the room as pairs of eyes failed to connect. Eventually, he awkwardly reached towards his daughter, hesitating a few times before speaking.

"Come here," he gestured at the loose cloth around her neck, "let me fix your bow..."

Asuka slowly climbed off the bed and stood before him as he sat on the edge. Large fingers reached out and fussed with the white fabric, but they grew increasingly flustered. The difficulty of the bow could have represented the effort needed to repair their relationship, if only it weren't such a pointless piece of cloth. Instead it just frustrated him to no end: a man of many talents, this was beyond his abilities or motivation. He attempted to tie the bow several more times before giving up completely when another person entered the room.

Gently closing the door and then standing behind the child, an older woman delicately began to button the last of the buttons on the back of the tiny black dress, sighing heavily, "Someone so young shouldn't need such formal wear..."

"Mother..." the man began, but his words were ignored as she sat next to him on the bed.

After sitting, Asuka's grandmother gently reached and smoothed out the crushed velvet fabric adorning her granddaughter. Tiny blue eyes shimmered with a broken heart, quivering lips almost permanently turned sour. Like a wilted rose, only the faintest glimpse of prior beauty could be seen.

The family had prepared for this day for months: funeral arrangements were made shortly after the incident. However, a child can easily get lost in the devastation; it would be easy to forget such a small thing. Cremation or burial? Public or private? Catholic or Shinto rites? But not once did someone ask about little Assy. Not until they couldn't ignore her any longer.

As the silence had grew, Asuka could only find tears in the void, her sniffles beginning again. A completely natural and forgivable reaction to what was happening around her, however these noises incensed her father.

"Dry your tears, Asuka," he spoke calmly. The few words he could find were short and hollow.

Again, she inhaled sharply, trying to stop the deluge.

"Give her a moment, David," the elderly woman rebuked him. "She's four years-old."

"Mother-"

Assy's lone savior continued, "I'd like to think I raised a more compassionate man than this."

After a moment, David Langley shook his head and sighed, the bass in his voice growing stronger: "She's had months to grieve, Mother. We all have. Kyoko has been gone far longer than three days."

Upon hearing her late mother's name again, the young Asuka continued to cry, turning her father's attention back towards her. Like a wounded bird, he reached out to comfort his daughter, but she flinched and pulled away causing him to retract sharply, scalded by her rejection.

"Asuka-"

The reaction was unconscious. She hated how he made her feel, but he hadn't been there since her mother's accident, instead spending time with another in an adjacent room. She'd overheard enough to know what sort of man he was, and what kind of burden she was to become.

"The least you could do is wipe the lipstick off of your neck," Asuka's grandmother commented after inspecting her son, turning his face in her hand. "It's your wife's funeral, for God's sake, have some shame."

"Ex-wife," he sternly corrected as he swatted her hand from him and rubbed under his chin. After a moment, he stood quickly and buttoned his jacket. He loomed over both women, glaring down at them from beyond his nose.

Redirecting towards his daughter, his stoic demeanor continued, "Some of the men from Gehirn are here: they don't need to see a weak pilot."

The older woman chastised him again, standing up to her taller son, "Tears are not weakness, David!"

"For this project they are."

The tiny sobs continued, uncontrollable, unrelenting. The small child the sadness and pain belonged to wished for nothing more than to make them stop, but their source was a well of unimaginable depth.

"Asuka, no more," her father tried to console her. "If you lose your spot as a pilot, you'll no longer be of any use-"

Even the room itself was shocked to hear those words. Through blurry eyes, Asuka glanced up from the mattress and looked at the mosaic of colors that was her father. The shape didn't move for some time: the weight of his words were slowly settling on everyone.

"That- that's not... I didn't..." He turned to leave the room but paused for a moment, looking back at his daughter. For a second, his posture loosened and a glimpse of sadness could be seen, but he quickly stood upright and his voice reverberated against the walls, "Don't embarrass me."

"Yes, Papa..." was all she could meekly get out before he shouted one last command at his own mother as he left.

"And fix her God damned bow!"

The door slammed far too harshly for the mood of the day, but no one dared say a word, least of all the two stunned women remaining in the emotionally orphaned child's bedroom. While Asuka's grandmother wept gently for the loss of not only her daughter-in-law but also her son, Asuka herself turned and slowly walked towards the full-length mirror in the corner.

'If you lose your spot as a pilot, you'll no longer be of any use-'

Powerful words seared into her consciousness. She could recall her and her father's pride and excitement when she was selected. But that feeling was short-lived: Asuka hadn't felt either emotion since that day.

Piloting was now a necessity. And pilots were strong.

Two wet seas of ocean blue reflected against cold, frozen eyes. The girl in the mirror hugged herself tightly, wrapping her arms around her chest, like a mother would, while the girl standing before it found herself more and more disgusted by her reflection's weakness. The mirror begged and pleaded for help, for companionship, for warmth, but Asuka looked at her former self and wiped the last tear she swore she'd ever cry from her cheek.

"I don't need you anymore."

"No, please," her reflection begged, "I can't do this alone! Please Asuka!"

"I have to be strong."

"I'm strong!"

"No you're not. You're pathetic."

Her reflection cowered and begged and pleaded for recognition. Ugly tears smeared the mirror as she pressed against the glass, desperate to not be shut out.

"I can't cry anymore. I won't cry anymore. Assy is a child's name. I am not a child."

"No, please-"

"Goodbye Assy."


Gentle footsteps grazed the tainted sea as they carried their owner towards the unknown. Walking atop the water, Asuka's resolve was tested as she approached an otherworldly obstacle. There was a head before her, an immense eyeball directly in front: normally a physical object which she could not avoid, something deep inside beckoned to her, calling her within. She was being summoned by whatever rested inside of the head.

Asuka stood before the iris, staring at herself. Her fear and hesitance were visible in the reflection of the massive eye as she struggled to take the next step. The image in the iris mirrored her in nearly every way, but there was something imperceptibly different. The sadness and loneliness were familiar coats she wore, but the reflection's lost innocence was slowly recognized.

As if by command, the reflected Asuka slowly shrunk in size and stature, reverting to the same young girl she'd been chasing for some time: the same girl she ran from many years prior. When the transformation was complete, the reflection turned away and disappeared deeper in the eye and Asuka knew what she had to do.

No longer able to resist, she pressed her hand against the cornea as she stepped forward. The barrier slowly gave way to her and she slipped in with a drop of water.

A new environment surrounded her, a sorrowful humidity clinging at her skin leaving a sheen of sadness. A rhythmic piano gently keyed an arpeggiated hemiola of loneliness and despair while powerful emotions washed over the room, reflecting in vibrant blue-green hues against invisible walls. A steady pulse began underneath the piano as atmospheric chords swelled from below and lifted Asuka's gaze upwards.

Asuka was filled with a devastating sense of familiarity as the ambiance of the room reminded her of her darkest hours. High above, floating suspended in the middle of the room, was a small child, curled into a ball...

Breathe in the sea
Free from the grief
Part of me wish I could be fine
All of me doesn't wanna cross that line

Working toward the child, Asuka discovered an invisible staircase, spiraling upwards at the circumference of the room, and careful steps beginning to quicken...

But when the stars that fall
Bring all but broken promises
Would you believe in me?
And when you hear the call
Pray that my metamorphosis
Is all that I need

Her pace continued to increase as the room spun around her. Unable to tell if she was growing closer to her prize, she continued...

If I could float up in the atmosphere
Would anyone know that I'm hiding here?
The deeper I sink
All I can think of is you

The child's heartsong resonated so strongly within her...

A melody so sad, drove me to tears
The message in a bottle disappeared
The deeper I sink
All I can think of is you

Asuka knew who it was long before she spotted the red hair...

Dream endlessly
Fall fast asleep
A song that falls on deaf ears
I hope one day you will hear
My silent symphony

Nearing the top, her footsteps slowed, gaze transfixed upon the seemingly endless stream of tears flowing down her face...

I've been waiting all this time
For you to come and save my life
But every time you'd drift away
And dawn turned to night

With every teardrop that fell, a new universe was born...

If I could float up in the atmosphere
Would anyone know that I'm hiding here?
The deeper I sink
All I can think of is you

... another chance at happiness that would never come true...

A melody so sad, drove me to tears
The message in a bottle disappeared
The deeper I sink
All I can think of is you

Asuka arrived at the summit, legs burning, heart pounding. She never realized that she, too, had begun to cry alongside her younger self. The sight of the child, cold and alone, brought back memories she'd sworn to lock away.

The air was stagnant at the top, void of the motion below. Somehow the resting place was illuminated from above, while no source could be seen, highlighting the figure.

She recognized the black dress crumpled beneath the small child, matted, wrinkled, and stained by time. She could remember being scolded by her father for the tear-soaked collar. She could feel the frustration as her tears dried yet her clothes didn't. And then she couldn't remember ever crying again.

"Asuka...?" her voice was dry. The fear had stricken the strength from her, and she was cautious to not scare the young child.

Unresponsive, the little girl continued to weep. Every stifled breath, every hushed whimper broke Asuka's heart further: she could recall this feeling, that day, this isolation.

She leaned in closer and again whispered the girl's name, "Asuka...?"

Silence. The room remained unchanged. The girl remained unchanged. Asuka, however, began to spiral.

Her faith wavered as she wondered if the girl, too, were nothing but a body: empty and unresponsive. The girl that she followed through the city never spoke, never acknowledged her.

"I've made it this far," she spoke aloud, hoping to spark an answer from the girl or a hint for herself. Her Japanese words echoed in the chamber, "I can't give up. Not here, not now."

Asuka stared at the girl and thought deep down, trying to remember anything from that day, any hint of what to say:

The funeral was held in Berlin, not Tokyo.

She then spoke in her mother's other tongue, "Can you hear me?"

No response.

Not Japanese. Not German. She problem-solved in her mind.

Her father and grandmother were American.

Taking another chance, she asked in English, "Asuka, are you there?"

Silence.

Not my strongest language.

Defeated, again, she turned her desperation inward. Everything had led her to this point. Where had she gone wrong? Where else could she have gone? What else could she have done?

I found her, Mama, she closed her eyes pleaded in her mind. What now?

The blissful memory of their most recent interaction warmed her soul.

'I love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you. Find her and set yourself free from this prison you've created.'

Again, words and reassurances she'd always had deep within. Yet, hearing them aloud, even in a dream, provided her the strength she needed.

'You deserve it, mein Lieblingslied.'

Even in a dream, provided her the answer she needed. Her eyes shot open.

A German nickname from her primarily Japanese-speaking mother, she remembered being called her "favorite song" for as long as she had memories. Music had played such an integral part in her life, long before she'd met Shinji and went through whatever all this was.

This child was her mother's favorite song.

Asuka summoned all of her courage, took a deep breath, and whispered, "Mein Lieblingslied?"

The world sighed as the small child stirred. She moved slowly, cautiously, as if every part of her body except for her tear ducts had atrophied. Curious sapphire eyes met and coaxed each other out of their shells as she spoke first.

"Mama...?"

Her voice was dry and cracked, as if its ability to speak was nearly lost to time, only guttural utterances and wails passed through those vocal chords.

The older girl sighed and looked down, "I'm sorry, no..."

"Oh." Defeat dripped from the tiny voice: she'd clearly been waiting for something for quite some time. "My mama used to call me that..."

Asuka smiled gently, bittersweet memories of their fond farewell emboldening her. She sat down next to her younger self and gently stroked her hair. Words hid from her lips momentarily, but the feeling faded.

"You know, my mama used to call me the same, and my papa..."

Silence lingered in the air as she recalled her father: not the David Langley of so many fantastic realities, not even David Langley, proud father of the pilot for Gehirn. A tear fell from her eye as she recalled the Papa that existed before she'd ever heard the cursed word "Eva": the Papa before her world was torn apart by the corrupt machinations of gods and men. The Papa that she hoped the child could recall, too.

"... and my papa would call me Assy."

The small child slowly looked at the older girl with a curious understanding. Her eyes showed confusion, but her words did not frame it as a question. She knew.

"Do I... know you?"

Asuka smiled at Assy and thought of all the things she wished she could tell her, all the things she should know. But she also feared for the consequences of overwhelming the child.

"No," was the only acceptable answer she could conjure. "But I know you."

Assy nodded in innocent understanding, as a younger child would an older sibling, and she sat upright, eying the other girl. While they attempted to grow acquainted through shallow pleasantries and patronizing words, Asuka struggled to not completely break down at the sight of the young version of herself, a form she had forgotten ever existed. The few words shared between were empty and hollow, completely unmemorable. Both versions of Asuka had bigger, grander questions in mind, but neither had the courage to ask them. And so a pregnant silence fell over the room.

Breaths and sighs no longer echoed in the cylindrical chamber. While the strange lights still danced along the round walls as they had before, occasionally wisps of the hues somehow exceeded beyond the boundaries, teasing at something grander than the world the little girl lived in.

Asuka steadied her breathing and gathered her thoughts: she had a purpose here, even without a plan. Her mother had all but told her as much. Eventually, courage took over and she found the strength to ask the child more direct questions.

"Assy-" she paused, "can I call you 'Assy'?"

The girl nodded.

"Assy," she continued, "how... how long have you been here...?"

Red hair shifted as the small child looked upward in thought. She was silent for quite some time, clearly struggling to find the right words.

"I don't know," she finally said with a contemplative smile. "A long time."

Time seemed a foreign concept in this room: the young version of Asuka was clearly no more than four years old, however, the oppressive weight of time sat upon them both. Asuka knew this portion of herself had been locked away for far longer than any one person should bear.

The older girl gazed around her, searching, hoping for any sign that Assy hadn't been isolated the whole time, for a shred of hope that she could still be saved. But the strange space was empty, short of the peculiar pool at the bottom of the stairs she had just ascended.

"Is it just you?"

Confusion spread across a tiny face.

"Here, I mean. Are you alone?" Asuka elaborated.

The girl shook her head, "No."

"What?"

"I have friends. I play with them whenever I want."

Asuka looked around the area for a hint of another room, somewhere these friends could be. But again, nothing. So she continued to gently pry at the girl, "Where?"

"In my dreams."

Shock and confusion swiftly descended on the older girl, but she was given little time to understand it as the child elaborated without asking.

"In my dreams I can visit my friends and play with them whenever I want."

"That's not what I meant," Asuka responded.

"You asked if I was alone."

"Yeah, but that doesn't count."

"Why not?"

"Because dreams aren't real."

"Yes they are."

"Assy-" she was growing frustrated.

"I have friends. I go and see them."

"That's, that's not-"

"So you're wrong."

Asuka sighed as she attempted to not argue with a four year-old. Unfortunately, her next words came out harsher than she wanted, "Dreams aren't real, though."

Incensed, Assy stood and turned, exclaiming defiantly, "They're real to me!"

Both girls remained silent. Asuka feared escalating and pushing her younger self too far and surrendered. The conflict had nearly come to a head and the mood in the room reflected it. Invisible walls seemingly bared down on Asuka, a pressure held against her mind and body. She softened and relented.

"I'm sorry, you're right. I've..." she was careful with her wording, "had dreams that I wanted to be real, too."

Assy took a moment before standing down and asking softly, "Why can't they be real?"

The older girl thought about it for a second. It was an innocent question, one that she herself had very recently asked Shinji. Escaping from hurt and pain was always preferable. But, in the end, she also knew the damage such escapism could cause. Suffering not only for herself, but for the ones she loved.

"They just," Asuka had to be honest with her younger self. "They just can't."

She recalled her conversation with Shikinami and Kate on the beach. Both existed only in fantasy, feigning peace and happiness. Both completely miserable in their existence.

"Dreams are lies, Assy," Asuka explained. "And lies hurt people, whether you know it or not."

"But they feel so real." The pain could be heard dripping from her young voice. "And they're nicer than..."

Asuka glance down at Assy as she trailed off. The child refused to make eye contact and instead played with the hem of her dress.

"Nicer than what?" She found an opening, but the younger girl refused to continue. Asuka repeated, "Nicer than what, Assy?"

The child shook her head defiantly and crossed her arms. Asuka's posture fell as she again struggled to reason with such a young mind.

"My dreams are special," the child said matter-of-factly, turning from their platform and looking over the edge.

Asuka sighed and carefully played along, "What makes them so special?"

Assy remained quiet for a moment, dancing precariously along an invisible ledge, before asking, "Do you want to see?"

"What?" the older girl replied, shocked.

Tiny, excited steps moved about, unnerving the older girl. Whatever she was being approached with seemed to be bad news.

"Do you want to see my dreams?"

"What? How?"

She glanced over the edge, "Down there."

"No, wait-"

"Come on," Assy grabbed her hand. "It'll be fun."

"No, Assy, wait!"

"Trust me!"

"Assy-"

But she refused to listen. The young girl simply leaned forward over the edge and pulled Asuka down with her. Without time to process the insanity of it, her body tensed as they fell towards the pool at the bottom. As it neared, she began to understand it wasn't a collective body of water, but instead individual tears, neatly arranged like a pile of marbles. Their slow descent confounded her until Asuka watched as her smaller self's feet touched a singular marble and sank into it.

Her own transition was jarring, as the world of tears and colors vanished into a field of black. Asuka found herself floating alone in darkness, unsure of whether or not this is where the dream world began. She spun around as best as possible, struggling to orient herself in the abyss. Alone.

Eyes slowly grew more acquainted to their surroundings and panic set in. Alone.

Heart pounding. Mind racing. Alone.

Alone.

Asuka was alone. Again.


Song: "52 Hearts" by Bao the Whale (Hikaru Station)