Plug Suits and Penguins
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Chapter 11: Birdbrain
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The front bell rang. More than once, he was fairly certain. But he couldn't count past one so he wasn't totally sure. He'd answer the door but the control panel was above his head, well out of reach. He tried to tell whoever was outside to be patient, but he wasn't sure they spoke penguin. He wasn't sure he spoke penguin. It was a long time since he conversed with someone of his own species. That train of thought led to unpleasant stops. Labs, doctors, experiments, pain, neglect. But then cautious hope. He was rescued. And now he was here. A long way from what he knew. Fewer labs and doctors, the only experiments were of the dinner variety, and no pain. Mild neglect. Home.
Penpen warked at the front door as the bell sounded again. Up to one times, he thought. It might be important. Like a food delivery. The door had to be answered!
"We're coming!"
Penpen turned and saw Food Boy, kitchen stalwart and sanitation commissioner for the colony, striding forward with the newest addition. They moved in near perfect unison. They had been doing that for a while, now. Up to one days.
They opened the front door. New humans appeared. There was an exchange of words at the threshold. Not in penguin. But the new humans were welcomed inside. The colony grew.
"Hi, Penpen!" Snail Girl greeted him with a friendly, food-less pat on the head. The other people looked askance at that. Yes, not offering something edible was indeed odd.
Everyone got comfortable. Everyone exchanged more words. Still not in penguin. It got hard to keep track of it all.
Penpen decided names were in order. He didn't have the luxury of assigning titles based on skill or prowess, but he needed to get some control over all the new activity. Especially since he could not simply escape to his refrigerator to sleep as Snail Girl had a firm hold on him.
So, names. A good colony needed them. A good colony worked together, each to their own job. But since Food Boy handled almost everything here, the others might just be for protection. Strength in numbers. All one of them.
Snail Girl held him still. She wasn't disagreeable, just terribly eager for contact. Penpen took pity on her, wondering if maybe she was separated from her parents too early.
Beside her was a tall, loud boy. Loud Tall was his name. And beside him was a shorter, less loud boy. His name was Double-Eyes.
They all watched Food Boy and the other new addition try to synchronize some manner of physical rite in the middle of the living room. A rain dance, or mating ritual, or something. And in front of the TV, sadly. They hid the remote on him some time ago. So this was all there was to watch now.
Food Boy had many uses in the colony. Coordinated movement was not among them. His partner Loud Red squawked irritably at his missteps. Almost penguin-legible. The sentiment got through.
The colony door opened once more. Penpen breathed a wark of relief at the sight of his savior safely returned. He had limited knowledge of the world immediately outside the colony walls but enough to foster a healthy trepidation whenever members departed. But indeed, Lesser Evil was back to him unscathed.
Penpen's welcoming trill curled up in his gullet, gasped for life and died a hideous death before reaching his beak. His savior was returned to him, but was not alone. Not her usual companion when bringing company, Ash Catter. This was yet another new person. Calm, quiet. A creeping aura hung around her, of grave stillness and hushed import. One that molted the feathers off his wings.
Penpen vaulted out of Snail Girl's arms, swam through the air and belly-slid across the kitchen floor to his refrigerator. Away, away from the instinctual existential dread of Spooky. The fridge door shut.
"What was that about?" Misato asked anyone, arriving home with Rei in tow.
She greeted the assembled crowd. Or tried to. Kensuke and Toji were, admirably, not quite drooling in such close proximity to her. Hikari knew she should be upset with the boys' display, for a variety of reasons, but couldn't form the emotion. Seeing Ms. Katsuragi up close was crushing. She was pretty. Like, really pretty. It was hard enough being in Asuka's exotically cute shadow, but Misato was dumbfoundingly stunning. The collective male student body's continued obsession with her seemed justified.
She had wondered how Shinji processed her beauty. Maybe familiarity created a dulling effect. He appeared unaffected by Asuka, too.
"I miss anything?" Misato inquired, nodding at the two Children not succeeding on their dance mats.
Even her voice is pretty! Hikari lamented.
"Nothing productive," Kensuke told her.
"Like watching cats and dogs try to tango in quicksand," Toji added.
"So, I did not miss anything."
Shinji slipped on a bending move and ended up barreling onto Asuka's mat. She deftly stepped over him like he was a roach skittering across the kitchen floor.
"Stop sucking," she hissed under her breath.
"Sorry." For the barreling and the sucking.
They reset. And failed again. And reset again.
Hikari watched. She gleaned piloting was immensely important to Asuka since they became friends. More than school grades, or popularity, or movies, or music, or anything. More than anyone. When she spoke of "her Unit-02" she was animated, and intense, and almost joyful. Not about the act of piloting, she was always vague as to specifics, but as if it was proof. A badge of responsibility, of skill, of worth. Not everyone was selected to control a giant robot.
Which was perhaps why Asuka got so frustrated with Ikari and Ayanami. They were her peers, but not her peers. She seemed to resent them for helping her combat monsters. Like they were in her way.
Or slowing her down. Hikari watched Shinji again lag behind in the routine, miss a step, and fall. Asuka looked ready to roll him up in the mat and shove him into the nearest dumpster like a failure burrito.
"Maybe we should leave?" Hikari posed, looking for allies.
"Nah," Misato answered. "Stick around."
For another letdown and another reset. It was getting late in the day. Her sisters would be baying for supper soon.
Failure redux. Asuka said something in German, a sharp perturbed exhalation that made Misato arch an eyebrow. She cleared her throat.
"I—"
"I cannot lower my standards any further," Asuka bit out, resuming an old argument. Angry, but controlled. She stabbed a finger at Shinji, who was face down on the floor. "He is too uncoordinated to coordinate with."
"I was going to say," Misato continued, "let's give Rei a shot with him."
So Rei gave it a shot with him. She somehow managed to make Shinji look acceptable. There was no presumption in the way she moved by him, no encouragement or scolding, simply an innate understanding of what needed to be done. A calm fluidity, gently moving around him while propelling them both to a unified end.
Asuka did not take their passing score well, was Hikari's main takeaway. Her friend fled the room, fled the apartment. And she found herself standing, nearly crushing Asuka's discarded headphones in her iron grip and stamping her foot like she was admonishing a tardy student or a disobedient sister.
"I-ka-ri!"
Kensuke and Toji paled a shade. It was Class Rep time.
"You upset her! Go! Go after her and apologize right now!"
It was a dizzy afternoon for Shinji. Practicing a dance routine that was somehow supposed to save the world until he had blisters on his hands and feet and ears, in front of an ever-expanding audience, being yelled at by Asuka, before dancing with Ayanami, before being yelled at by Horaki. He was pretty sure this was one of the layers of Hell.
Not sure why it was his fault for successfully following a commanding officer's orders, but to escape more immediate oral violence, he obeyed and fled, too.
And Hikari sat back down. In a profound, unsettled silence.
"Yikes," Kensuke breathed.
"You didn't have to yell at him that loud," Toji said.
"What?" Hikari, picture of innocence, turned to them. The boys' gazes cast her in a dim light. Misato politely averted her eyes. "What are you talking about?"
"Did he deserve that decibel level?"
"Pretty sure the whole apartment complex heard you."
"I…"
She reviewed her actions. It was a gut response, so automatic as to feel natural, like she was supposed to verbally assault Ikari. Because she had to defend Asuka. Because Asuka was her friend and that had to be protected at any cost. Because a class representative doesn't normally get to have friends.
It wasn't like she wanted to be a class rep. Middle school was hard enough to navigate without acting as the faculty's rule mule. But no one else wanted to do it. Classes in Tokyo-3 were sparsely populated, despite the overwhelming adult presence in the city around NERV. None of the other students yearned to be the thumb pressing on their peers' backs. Hikari was already disciplinarian at home, someone had to do that, too, so being one at school felt a lesser leap than the rest of the class.
She knew firsthand what a lack of order looked like. After Mom died, the surviving Horakis all flailed in the dark, trying to blindly find some sense of purpose and structure. Nozomi escaped into fantastical worlds of animated good triumphing over any and all adversity. Kodama, as far as they knew, dove into her studies. She was at cram school every day, sometimes multiple extra classes in a single evening. Dad became obsessed with providing levity, with trying to earn a smile from his daughters by any means necessary, while avoiding anything to do with harsh reality.
And Hikari drifted. Quietly watching her family's scattershot attempts at grief. It was unproductive, and sad, and lonely. And the laundry didn't do itself. And meals didn't make themselves. And their home became a house of strangers.
So Hikari taught herself how to wash and fold clothes. And prepare food. And make grocery lists. Kodama handled the finances; she was always good with numbers. And Nozomi took out the trash, when reminded a few times. And their house slowly became a home again.
So when Mr. Nebukawa absently wafted the question of who wanted to be the class representative for 2-A, Hikari stayed silent. Because she did not want to do it. But she knew what it was like to live in chaos and confusion and she did not want that for her classmates. So she said yes. Because someone had to do it.
Hikari rose. "I need to go find them."
She left. Not knowing where to look or what to say but knowing she had to act. She berated Ikari to somehow defend this strange boon of Asuka's companionship. Drifting after Mom passed was not conducive to keeping friends. Becoming a class rep was even worse. Finding someone, anyone, who willingly spent time with her felt revelatory.
The sun rolled down the ridge of the canyon outside the city, spilling deep orange dusk over the streets she searched. They couldn't get too far. And as she thought on it now, Ikari might not be the best equipped to comfort an upset Asuka. Not that he was totally socially inept but the friction between he and her was plain to see. Even without dance pads.
Hikari wandered by a park. She spied them at a picnic table, Asuka atop it, chomping through a minimart sandwich. Shinji was on the bench below, stealthily checking a public clock. He caught sight of Hikari. He waved her over.
"Asuka!" she exclaimed. "You're…" Not crying on Ikari's shoulder. "…okay."
"Of course I am." She hopped off the table, making it look impossibly graceful. "I just wanted something to eat."
"Oh."
Maybe Shinji did console her somehow. Maybe it was a Child thing.
"Why are you here?" Asuka asked.
"Uh…" Why was she here? They both seemed fine; she was back to dominant assertiveness, he was back to looking exhausted by people, and totally untroubled by the chewing out earlier. "… It's getting late. I thought I should tell you two."
For a moment, she appeared ready to call her out on such an obvious fib. But, despite the numerous empty sandwich wrappers littering the picnic table that Shinji was cleaning up for her, Asuka's stomach decided to grumble.
"Third," she recalled him from janitorial duties. "It is late. Go make dinner."
"We'll make dinner," Shinji amended. He gestured to the matching outfits they both still wore. And he gave her a look. An entire conversation, unspoken between the two.
Asuka sighed. "Yeah, yeah."
They began walking back. Hikari trailed them. She realized she was the extra wheel on their unicycle. There was a growing understanding between them, maybe not of respect or affection, but recognition of boundaries. Despite Asuka's display earlier. Alone at the picnic table, away from prying eyes, they looked somewhat at peace together.
Hikari knew that was good. Most importantly because they were currently engaged in working with each other to save the city. And if it led to a less interrogation-like atmosphere when Asuka talked about Ikari, all the better, too. But watching as they moved in unison away from her, back to a shared world of robots and weirdness, she was jealous of their connection.
They returned to the apartment. Kensuke and Toji had decided to try their hand at the dance pads, with Misato cheering them on. Rei observed. Kensuke was, surprisingly, not bad. Toji was, surprisingly, not good.
"Aida wins again!" Misato applauded.
"I concede," Toji groaned from the floor.
Kensuke bounced upright. "So, is this like a pre-interview for pilot consideration?"
"Nothing's impossible." That was impossible. She spied the returnees. "Hey. Ready to give it another go?"
"No," Asuka replied. "Not until I eat and somebody—" Read: Shinji "—hoses down the mats." She managed to appear even more disgusted by Toji sprawled over her side than when Shinji was.
Toji bolted to his feet. "You—"
"Stay for dinner," Shinji intervened. "Everyone. I just went grocery shopping."
Misato seconded the motion, ordering Rei to attend as well. Kensuke and Toji made it public knowledge they were not sitting anywhere near Asuka. She invited them to dine outside, like animals, although they didn't have a trough. Toji politely asked Shinji to make extra portions for her, to put some actual meat on her bones.
A physical altercation was temporarily avoided as Hikari, in the front hall, put her shoes back on. She bowed to her hosts.
"I don't want to intrude any further," she spoke as farewell.
Everyone stopped to look at her.
"Eh," Toji was the first to recover, "you won't intrude unless you holler at Shinji again."
"Or at least wait until he ruins dinner," Kensuke tried to partially defuse things.
On one level, she felt that was expected and deserved. Suzuhara and Aida were simply defending their friend, the way she tried to defend Asuka. But it didn't lessen the sting much.
"Right," Hikari said. "I'm sor—"
"Did she?" Shinji posed, rubbing tired eyes. "I don't remember. It's been an extremely long day." He turned to his friends. "But Ms. Horaki is a guest. That is no way to speak to a guest."
"… Dude," Toji whispered. "We were just trying to—"
"You can apologize to her, or you're free to leave."
The prospect of missing a Shinji-cooked meal, even with Asuka's questionable aid, weighed them down until they bowed to Hikari and asked for her forgiveness.
"… It's okay," she said. She took her shoes back off.
She observed him the rest of the evening. He cooked with Asuka, which itself was a kind of conflict between the two, but ultimately proved successful. Aida and Suzuhara squabbled with her during the meal, egged on by Misato. But Shinji was nearly as quiet as Ayanami throughout. He watched this odd impromptu gathering of friends, allies and/or enemies, and acquaintances. He watched with an expression Hikari could not clearly define.
She caught his eye over a dessert of flan, across the table. He smiled. She smiled back. She would apologize properly, later, when they were alone. And she already knew he would shrug it off. But she wanted to. To protect the peculiar, undefined link between the two of them.
Penpen stuck his beak out of his fridge. The noise level had not abated for some time, but the food level had risen dramatically. He stepped a claw onto the kitchen floor before making eye contact with Spooky directly before him in the living room.
The penguin dashed back inside his refrigerator and shut the door. He did not emerge again. Rei silently sighed. She missed her chance to pet him.
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Author notes: Only a few chapters to go. I never intended this to get downward spirally.
Next chapter: Be very, very quiet. They're hunting Shinjis.