Just a little something that popped into my head, I have no idea what to do with it - but asushin week is like in a few days so yeah - also I draw now, my pixiv is daltarit24 if you care.
Begin
That all-too-familiar yet fleetingly forgotten feeling of consciousness—something ancient stirring in the deep recesses of thought. The dim light pressed against darkened eyes shielded beneath a thin, fleshy veil.
Rising! Awake!
The alarm sounded; Its tone wrong. The pitch, the rhythm—it grated against his nerves like a distant scream through water. Morning sunlight pierced his vision, a thousand needles poking through the film of half-dreams. Slowly, focus returned. Clarity teased him, but only in fleeting fragments.
Thoughts came heavy, ponderous as lead. Some unnamed weight bore down on him, creeping in from the edges of cognition, foggy and oppressive. As Shinji Ikari readied himself to greet the old world—the cruel one that never gave—he felt it. A presence.
Another body.
Warm. Alive. Close.
A hand? A breath? His neck stiffened as he turned his head toward the weight pressing down on the mattress beside him. His mouth felt like paper, his throat dry and hesitant. His stomach churned in faint protest, as though afraid to learn what his eyes would see.
Orange hair. Sharp bangs. Messy.
His vision sharpened, focusing on pale skin, soft in its vulnerability. He blinked once, twice. The colors returned. The sounds—the birds chirping, the distant hum of traffic, and somewhere far off, the faint roll of a summer breeze through open windows.
Logic clawed its way back.
"Asuka…" he whispered, his voice raw and cracked. It came out like the name of a deity, something both sacred and profane, as if speaking it might awaken an old god of mischief and spite.
Wait.
"Asuka?" This time louder, his voice edged with disbelief, the syllables punctuated by his rising panic.
He bolted upright, his limbs tangled in unfamiliar sheets. His head swam with the vertigo of sudden motion. The room around him was alien, its ceiling unfamiliar, its walls bearing no comforting hallmarks of home. This was not his bed. This was not his room.
"Asuka?" he croaked again, rubbing his eyes as if the act might dispel this surreal tableau.
She stirred beside him, groaning lightly. The blanket fell away as she shifted, revealing more of her sleeping form than he wanted to see—more than his fragile mind could process at this hour. Her hair sprawled like fiery tendrils, a halo of chaos against the pristine pillowcase.
Skin against skin.
His own, starkly unadorned. The realization hit him like cold water.
"Where are my clothes?" he thought, the question screaming in his head.
His breath quickened, shallow and uneven. A hundred possibilities flooded his mind, most too absurd or too horrifying to entertain. His gaze darted around the room, searching for answers, for a context that might anchor him to reality. He found none.
"What's going on?"
Asuka shifted again, her face turning toward him. Her features softened in sleep—an uncharacteristic tranquility that only added to his growing sense of unease. For a moment, she was not the Asuka Langley Soryu he knew, with her barbed words and biting stares. This was someone else. Someone vulnerable. Someone out of place.
Shinji froze as her eyelids fluttered. Her breathing hitched, signaling the encroaching inevitability of wakefulness. And when her eyes opened—blue like ice, sharp as steel—she looked at him.
For a brief, eternal second, they stared at one another.
And then—
"WHAT THE FUCK?!"
Asuka's voice shattered the fragile peace of the morning. She bolted upright, yanking the sheet around herself with all the fury and indignation of a queen finding a commoner in her bed.
"What are you doing here, you pervert?!" she demanded, her voice piercing, her eyes blazing.
Shinji's mouth flapped open and closed like a beached fish. "I-I don't know! I swear! I just woke up, and—"
"You *just woke up?!*" she interrupted, throwing a pillow at his face with deadly precision. He fell of the bed, grabbing whatever was on the floor, covering himself.
"How do you even—what did you—"
"I didn't do anything!" he pleaded, shielding himself with his arms. "I don't even know how I got here!"
Asuka glared at him, her chest heaving with indignation. For a moment, the room was silent except for their ragged breaths and the distant chirping of birds.
Finally, she jabbed a finger at him. "Start explaining, Now. Third Child"
Shinji swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. "I... I don't remember anything," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I went to bed in my room, and then I woke up here. With... you."
Asuka's face contorted with a mix of fury, confusion, and something else—something darker and harder to place. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words seemed to catch in her throat.
A sudden noise interrupted them. There was a knock at the door, sharp and insistent, and with it came a voice—light, unfamiliar, and maddeningly casual.
"Mom! Dad! We're gonna be late for school, please hurry up!"
The words hung in the air like an electric charge.
"What?" Asuka said, her voice louder than she intended. Her eyes snapped to Shinji, wide and accusing, as though he might somehow be responsible for this absurdity.
"Mom and dad?" Shinji echoed, his tone incredulous. The phrase struck him like a hammer. The confusion swirling in his head deepened, heavy and suffocating.
From behind the door, the voice came again, laced with impatience. "We're gonna be late! Come on, hurry up!"
Shinji and Asuka exchanged a glance. Neither spoke, but the shared look said enough: What the hell is going on?
Asuka was the first to break the silence, her voice sharp and confrontational. "Who the hell are you?" she snapped, glaring toward the door as though it might shatter under the force of her anger. "And where are we?"
"What?" the voice asked, a hint of confusion creeping in.
"Who are you?" Asuka repeated, rising from the bed with the sheet still clutched tightly around her. "Is this some kind of game? A test by NERV?" Her tone was venomous now, tinged with paranoia.
And then, an even darker thought clawed its way to the surface of her mind, bringing with it a shiver of dread.
"Misato!" she shouted suddenly, her voice trembling with both fear and fury. "Is this some kind of joke? A prank?"
There was a pause on the other side of the door, and then the voice returned, this time tinged with worry. "Mom, what's wrong with you?" it asked. "Are you okay? Is Dad in there with you?"
Shinji froze. Dad?
"'Dad'?" Asuka hissed, whipping her head toward him. "What the hell is this? What's going on, Ikari?"
Before he could respond—before he could even think—another voice chimed in, younger, more boyish, and equally unfamiliar. "Dad, what's going on?"
The words echoed in the room like an accusation. The tension was unbearable, every second stretching out into eternity.
Shinji's stomach twisted in knots. His mind raced, desperately trying to make sense of the situation, but nothing added up. The strange room, the missing memories, waking up beside Asuka, and now this—a pair of children calling them mom and dad.
"This isn't possible," he whispered to himself, his hands trembling. His voice cracked as he turned to Asuka. "I don't… I don't know what's happening."
Asuka was pacing now, her movements erratic, the sheet trailing behind her like a phantom. She stopped abruptly, her eyes narrowing. "I'm not playing along with this," she growled. "This has to be some kind of sick joke. Has to be."
The voices behind the door grew more insistent. "Mom? Dad? What are you doing in there? We're gonna be late!"
"Late for what?!" Asuka yelled, her frustration boiling over. "And stop calling me that! I'm not your mom, and he's definitely not your dad!"
There was a pause, and then the first voice, trembling now, replied, "Mom… are you okay? You're scaring me."
Asuka faltered for a moment, her expression flickering with something almost like guilt. Then she shook her head, her scowl returning. "Don't fall for it," she hissed. "This is…this is manipulation…. Some kind of experiment…a test."
But Shinji's attention wasn't on her. His gaze was locked on the door, his breathing shallow. "What if…?" he began, his voice barely audible. He shook his head. "No..."
"What if what?" Asuka demanded,
"What if this is… real?" he said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "What if we—"
"No!" Asuka cut him off, her voice sharp enough to slice through steel. "Don't you dare finish that sentence, Third Child! There's no way—no way—that this is real."
But even as she said it, doubt crept into her tone.
The knock came again, softer this time. "Mom? Dad?" the voice pleaded. "Please open the door. You're scaring us."
Silence fell between Shinji and Asuka, heavy and suffocating. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, everything familiar slipping away.
Finally, Shinji stood up, adorning whatever remainder of clothes he could find strewn across the floor. They smelled faintly of detergent and something else—a strange, unfamiliar life. He took a hesitant step toward the door, his hand hovering over the handle.
It trembled, his body betraying the storm inside him. His expression was a muddled cocktail of terror and resolve, neither dominant, both pulling him apart.
"I have to know," he said, voice low but unsteady. It carried the weight of inevitability.
"No," Asuka whispered harshly, retreating, her eyes wide with panic. "Don't you dare open that door, Third. You don't know what's on the other side."
"If this is a test, a simulation…" he began, swallowing hard, his chest rising and falling in shallow bursts, "…then… this will end it."
"And if it's not?" she countered, her voice cracking, raw with the same fear he carried. The words hung in the air like a loaded gun. He didn't answer. He couldn't.
His hand found the handle. He turned it.
Reality unravelled. The world, a fragile simulacrum, torn apart at the seams. The sterile white of an old hospital room, the distant hum of fluorescent lights, the ache of a body weighed down by memory and regret. Above him, that all too familiar ceiling— one that he knew too well. Looking out into the white and looking into the blue.
But he could see none of that -
Instead, on the other side of the door stood two figures, blinking up at him. The ordinary washed over him in a way that was more horrifying than any cosmic revelation.
On the right, a girl no older than fourteen. Her messy mop of reddish-brown hair framed a face twisted in confusion, mild irritation, and an undercurrent of worry.
Beside her stood a boy, maybe ten, with dark hair that curled at the edges and eyes too wide, too innocent. They both looked up at him, their expressions questioning and expectant.
"Dad?" the girl said, her voice piercing through the thick fog in Shinji's mind. Her eyes met his, unblinking. "Is something wrong?"
The word hit him like a punch to the chest. Dad? The air caught in his throat. He couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. His mind tumbled in an endless freefall. Were these… his children?
Behind him, Asuka froze. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Her mouth opened and closed in silent disbelief, her brain failing to process the impossible.
The boy tugged at the girl's sleeve nervously. "Mom looks… weird," he murmured, his voice trembling. His gaze flicked back to Shinji. "And Dad looks even weirder."
Shinji stared at them, chest tight, thoughts spiralling into a void that threatened to swallow him whole. Dad? Dad?
"I…" he started, but the words crumbled under the weight of everything before him. He didn't know what to say
Before he could finish, heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, drawing closer. Then another child appeared, taller than the other two, her height almost matching his. She carried herself differently—confidence, or maybe frustration—her expression severe and impatient. Her face was uncanny, a blend of features both familiar and alien. He saw in her a strange reflection of himself, but there was Asuka in there as well.
"What's going on?" she snapped, her tone sharp, cutting through the tension. "We're supposed to be—" She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing as they scanned Shinji and Asuka's faces, etched with dread. "What's wrong with you two?" she demanded. "You're not even dressed, and you look like paralyzed mummies. We're late!"
Her shout broke the silence like shattering glass, momentarily snapping Shinji and Asuka out of their trance. But only for a moment. Shinji's hand moved on instinct, pushing the door shut.
The muffled voices of the children lingered on the other side. He turned slowly, his back against the door, and looked at Asuka. She was trembling, clutching the sheets like a lifeline, her eyes glossy with unshed tears.
"This is real," Shinji whispered, his voice hollow, cracking under the weight of the words. He repeated it, as if saying it aloud might make it less true. "This is… this is real."
"No," Asuka muttered, her voice rising, shaky and desperate. "No, no, no, no, no— no!"
Asuka staggered back, hitting the edge of the bed, her legs giving way as she crumpled onto the mattress. She buried her face in her hands, her breaths quick and shallow.
This wasn't real—it couldn't be. It had to be some cruel trick, a perverse nightmare spawned by the depths of NERV's manipulation.
But the muffled voices on the other side of the door told a different story. They weren't fading, nor vanishing into the void. They were here, persistent and tangible, tethering this moment to a world that felt terrifyingly solid.
Shinji pressed his palms against the door as if to keep it—and everything beyond it—at bay. His chest rose and fell in uneven gasps. His mind raced, searching for explanations, escape routes, anything. But there was nothing. No answers, no clarity, just the crushing weight of existence pressing down on him like a vice.
"What… do we do?" he croaked, turning his head slightly toward Asuka. She didn't respond, didn't even look at him. She was shaking, her shoulders rising and falling with the force of her breathing.
"I…" she started, her voice muffled behind her hands. Then louder, sharper: "I can't do this. I can't do this! I'm not ready to be a mom, I don't know the first thing about being a parent!"
Her hands dropped, revealing her pale, tear-streaked face. Her eyes, wide and bloodshot, locked onto Shinji's. "This is insane! This isn't—this isn't how it's supposed to be!"
"You think I don't know that?" Shinji snapped, the desperation in his voice spilling over into anger. His fists clenched at his sides. "You think I have any idea what's happening? I don't even wa—" He stopped, swallowing hard, his voice breaking. "I don't even know who I am right now…"
For a moment, silence hung between them, broken only by the faint sound of voices outside the door.
Then, a knock. Three gentle taps, tentative and unsure.
"Mom? Dad?" It was the girl's voice again, softer this time. "What's wrong, You're acting really weird."
Shinji and Asuka froze again, their eyes darting to the door. The girl's voice was followed by the boy's.
"Should we call someone? Maybe Auntie Hikari?"
That name hit Asuka like a jolt of electricity. Hikari. Familiar. Comforting, in a strange way. But even that thread of familiarity felt warped, out of place in this surreal tableau.
"No!" Shinji shouted suddenly, his voice cutting through the air. "No, don't call anyone!"
The silence on the other side of the door was deafening. Then came, the older girl's voice—calm, authoritative.
"We're coming in," she said, no longer asking for permission.
The door handle rattled. Shinji scrambled back, his heart pounding, his body moving on pure instinct. Asuka clutched the sheets tightly, her eyes wide with panic.
The door creaked open, and the three figures stepped inside, their presence filling the room with a weight that was almost unbearable.
The older girl spoke first, her gaze sharp and piercing. "Seriously, what is going on with you two? You're acting like you've never seen us before."
Shinji's mouth opened, but no words came out. Asuka stared at the three of them, her lips trembling.
"Tell us," the younger boy said, his voice shaking slightly. "Did… something happen? Are you okay?"
And there it was. The question. So simple, so human. But it carried with it the crushing realization that there was no simple answer, no way to make sense of any of this.
Shinji looked at Asuka. Asuka looked back at him. And in that shared glance, they both understood the same terrifying truth.
"I'm calling Aunt Hikari," the oldest girl announced, her voice resolute. She turned on her heel and strode out of the room, her steps echoing like the ticking of some inevitable clock.
Shinji raised a hand, his mouth half-open, desperate to form the words that might stop her. But nothing came out. The air felt thick, the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He stood there, frozen, his fingers trembling as they fell back to his side.
"Mom…" The smaller girl's voice broke through the oppressive silence. Her wide eyes were fixed on Asuka, shimmering with something between worry and confusion. "Are you crying?"
Asuka couldn't answer. Her chest heaved, her breaths coming shallow and erratic. Her hand hovered near her face, as if trying to wipe away tears that refused to fall.
The young girl stepped closer, her small feet padding softly against the floor. Her gaze never wavered, and in that moment, she looked far older than her years. Asuka instinctively pressed herself against the headboard, retreating as far back as the bed would allow.
"Stay… stay back," Asuka whispered, her voice cracking. But the girl didn't stop.
Instead, she climbed onto the bed and wrapped her arms around Asuka, pulling her into a hug that was too warm, too human, too real.
Asuka froze. Her body turned rigid, her arms stiff at her sides. She felt the weight of the small child clinging to her, the warmth of her breath against her neck. It was overwhelming, suffocating.
"Stop it," she muttered, her voice trembling. "Don't…"
But the child didn't let go. Her tiny hands tightened their grip, her head pressing against Asuka's shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Mom," the girl whispered, her voice so quiet it was almost lost in the chaos of Asuka's spiralling thoughts.
And then the boy followed. He clambered onto the bed with all the clumsy determination of a child, his small body bouncing slightly as he landed beside them. Without hesitation, he threw his arms around Asuka, joining his sister in the embrace.
"Don't cry, Mom," he said, his voice full of earnestness. "We're here. It's okay."
Asuka sat there, paralyzed, her eyes darting wildly between the two children. Their faces were pressed against her, their small bodies radiating warmth and comfort she didn't know how to accept.
Shinji watched from the doorway, his legs rooted to the spot. His chest tightened at the sight, a maelstrom of emotions he couldn't name crashing through him.
For a moment, everything felt impossibly quiet. The sunlight streaming through the window bathed the scene in a soft glow, cruel in its tenderness.
Asuka's mouth opened and closed soundlessly. She looked at Shinji, her eyes pleading, filled with something primal and broken.
"Shinji…" she finally managed to choke out, her voice barely audible.
But Shinji had nothing to give her. No words, no answers, no salvation. He could only stand there, watching as the fragile threads of their reality began to entangle into something unrecognizable.
"Dad," the children said again, their voices unison in their plea. "Come on…"
Their small hands reached out, beckoning him into the embrace. Shinji stood there, frozen in place, his breath catching in his throat. He hesitated, unsure if he could take that step, unsure if he deserved to.
"Dad, come on." the girl urged again, her voice soft but insistent. Her eyes locked onto his, wide and shimmering with a kind of understanding he couldn't fathom. "Please…"
The weight of her gaze pulled him forward. His feet moved without his consent, one hesitant step after another until he stood at the edge of the bed. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air, trembling, before he finally let them fall around the small group.
He joined them in the embrace.
It was awkward, hesitant at first—a man who had never truly known what it meant to be held trying to reciprocate. But then, the warmth of their bodies pressed against his, the weight of their small arms around him, and something broke inside him. He tightened his hold, a shaky breath escaping his lips as his head fell forward.
And then came the sound of footsteps returning.
"She's not picking up," the eldest said as she re-entered the room, her tone sharp with the same urgency that had yet to fade. "Seriously, guys, we need to—"
She stopped cold in the doorway.
Her eyes fell on the group huddled together on the bed—an awkward, tangled heap of arms and quiet sobs. It was a sight so dissonant from the storm panic and punctuality swirling in her chest that her brain struggled to process it.
"Okay…" she muttered, awkward and uncertain, lingering on the threshold. Her gaze darted between them. "I mean, now's really not the time for this—whatever this is."
Her younger sister turned then, breaking from the pile with a look that was both determined and pleading. Before the eldest could react, a tight grip took her by the wrist.
"Hey, what are you—"
"Come on," the younger sister urged, tugging hard, her voice soft yet insistent.
"Let me go!" she protested, digging her heels in, trying to resist. But it was no use. The younger girl's determination outweighed her reluctance. She stumbled forward, yanked toward the bed, toward them.
It happened so quickly she didn't have time to pull away before she fell into the fold, her protests muffled as arms wrapped around her.
"Seriously!?" she muttered, still stiff, still resisting the weight of the moment pressing down on her.
Now they all clung to each other—a fragile, fractured tableau of a family finding itself in the middle of the unknown. The room fell into silence, save for the sound of Shinji's uneven breathing and Asuka's faint, stifled sobs.
Tears rolled down Shinji's cheeks, warm and unwelcome, as if his body had betrayed him by feeling anything at all. Asuka's tears mirrored his, silent but heavy, pooling at the edges of her vision before slipping down her face.
For a single moment, they revelled in the silence.
A family formed in the quiet collapse of what they knew.
Then the eldest broke the spell. "So… I guess we're skipping school today, huh?" she said, having all but given up.
And thus reality would snap back like a rubber band.
Shinji and Asuka looked at each other, their tear-streaked faces identical in their sudden, dawning realization.
"Fuck!"
END.
This fic is also on A03