December 2018
I cling to the railing of the VTOL landing pad and let the salty wind blow through my hair. My eye, the one that's not covered by an eye patch, itches.
Down below, some twenty meters to my feet the military port bustles with activity. Techs scurry back and forth between the towering cranes. They look like little dolls compared to the colossal Evangelion that hangs suspended from the cranes. Plated in dark gray armor, the love of my life is a shadow of its former self. Faint red stripes on pylons and arms are the only reminders of our glorious days.
"It's been a while," I whisper as the cranes creep toward the equally gigantic Carrier that dominates the horizon. It's an amazing view and I should be absolutely thrilled, but I'm actually close to throwing up. My stupid brain just won't give me a break.
Another gust of wind brushes over the pad. I tighten my jacket and bury my hands deep into its pockets where my left touches the photo that I've been hiding there. I fight back the urge to pull it out. Why did I even bring it with me? Keeping it in my pocket won't make anything easier, but I couldn't bear to leave it behind in our apartment. Well, technically it's not our apartment anymore. It's Shinji's now.
"The Techs really outdid themselves," a voice says behind me, pulling me back into the present. "It's not exactly off the shelf but given what the poor guys had to work with—"
I take a deep breath and I turn around to face my former guardian. Misato is alone. Of course, she is. What did I expect? Fireworks and a marching band to send me off?
"Send them my regards," I say and paste on a smile. "Not a big fan of the paint job though."
"Yeah, those UN Execs were pretty strict on the color scheme," Misato says as she takes a spot next to me on the railing. "But we managed to sneak in some red highlights." She grins and gives me a wink. "For old time's sake."
Below us, one of the Techs screams while he tries to queue the crane drivers with frantic gestures. The other Techs just stand around, probably trying to wrap their heads around why on earth someone would ship an Evangelion from Japan to Germany.
"You're sure about this?" Misato says and gives me a concerned look. Fuck no, I'm not. Just a few hours ago I was a sobbing ball of misery, curled up on a stinking hotel mattress. I needed a godless amount of concealer to even remotely resemble a human being again. So no, I'm not fucking sure about this.
"Yup," I say and point to Unit-02 now dangling over the carrier. "I'm going where she's going." Misato gauges me carefully, and I can almost see the cogs in her head turning as she's weighing her options.
"You're a smart girl," she finally says and the warmth in her voice has vanished. "So you've probably figured out that this is not just a normal transfer. There is more to this. The UN is actively trying to undermine us and they are using you, Asuka," She pauses for a beat, probably to give her words more weight. "It's not too late to change your mind."
Should I tell her that this is all her fault, that she didn't leave me any other choice? Would that make any difference? It's not like we haven't had this discussion before. In fact, we've had it so often that I'm seriously considering the possibility that I'm hallucinating. Wouldn't be the first time asshole-brain is fucking with me. Especially in these last weeks, it's gotten way worse. Although I've never had full-on conversations with the stuff my brain makes up. Maybe I'm just too exhausted. I don't know, but hallucination or not, I'm done with all of this.
"Did it ever cross your mind that they're actually interested in me?" I say and meet Misato's gaze head-on. "Maybe because I'm—I don't know—like the most experienced pilot on the planet? Or maybe because I saved humanity's ass like what? Six times? Seven? Oh, and did you know that I'm a savant-level genius? Nope sir, can't be none of that. It has to be some kind of global conspiracy geared towards the destruction of NERV." I snort. "You're unbelievable."
"Asuka, you know I wasn't—"
"All I know is that you're a paranoid, old hag and you're pissed because the UN is taking away your toys." With grim satisfaction, I watch my words hit their mark.
Misato's shoulders tense, her hands grip the railing tight. So I guess the gloves are officially off now. But her posture deflates just a breath later and so does my desire for a fistfight. She slowly turns around, leans back against the railing and a glimmer of pain runs over her face. Maybe it finally dawned on her that she lost this battle a long time ago.
"Look," she says, massaging her right flank. "I'm not here to fight. This is your decision and I have to respect that."
"But?"
A pained smile appears on her face. "But that doesn't change the fact that it's a fucking stupid one."
"Fair enough," I turn around and fall into the same position as my former guardian. The wind brushes through my hair while I stare at the two-sided, metallic door that leads onto the landing pad, very unsure of what I hope to see there.
"I won't be able to protect you once you leave Tokyo-3. You'll be on your own."
"I'll be fine," I say, part to end this conversation and part to assure myself. "I pilot a frickin 'Evangelion. There is not much that can harm me."
With a metallic groan, Unit-02 makes contact with the deck of the Carrier. I shoot around. The Carrier sways heavily, its deck now dangerously close to the waterline. Water washes over the pier and the Techs run to keep their feet dry. "Hey!" I shout down. "Be careful with her, you idiots. If I find a single scratch on that paint job I'll cut your heads off."
Misato chuckles.
"What?"
"Nothing," she says. Her smile slowly fades and concern shines in her eyes. "Just be careful out there, okay?"
It's amazing how good she's at pretending to care. For a split second, I actually bought it. But this is the same woman who didn't give two shits about me while I literally fought my way back from the dead. In this Universe, there are ten point five spatial dimensions, one time dimension, and exactly two people Misato Katsuragi cares about. Herself included.
I shoot another glance back at the landing pad doors.
"Shinji won't come," Misato says, seemingly reading my mind. My heart sinks in a strange mix of relief and disappointment.
"Makes sense," I say and swallow to untangle the knot that threatens to block my throat. "I don't think we handled this whole goodbye thing particularly well." That's a lie. All things considered, Shinji handled the whole mess pretty damn well. I on the other hand…
"He mentioned something along those lines," Misato says. Well, that's news. As far as I know, they have been down to single-word interactions, ever since Shinji moved out of her place.
"Can you -" The words are out of my mouth before I can think of it twice. I shouldn't put this on her but I have to get it off my chest somehow. Definitely can't do it myself, not without completely falling apart. I swallow and try to avoid Misato's eyes. "Can you tell him I'm sorry?"
"I don't think that's a good idea. We're not exactly on that kind of speaking terms," she says and tilts her head "But I can offer one final piece of advice. You know, from a woman who's made a lot of mistakes to a woman who is about to make one."
"Enlighten me with your wisdom," I say and try not to sigh because I already know what she's going to say.
"You're probably right and I'm just a paranoid, old hag. God, I hope you're right. But if I'm not — If you have anything important to say to Shinji, then say it. Life's too cruel to keep important things unsaid."
I can only nod as I let her words sink in. My gaze becomes unfocused and the corners of my eyes start to itch. There are thousands of things that I should have said to Shinji and for each one of them probably a million more I shouldn't have. But what am I supposed to do? Thanks to the laws of Thermodynamics, time only flows in one direction and that's exactly where I'm heading. Can't argue with Thermodynamics.
A low rumble swells in the distance. When I look up I see the growing silhouette of an approaching VTOL. It's too far away to make out details but its trajectory is clear and it's approaching fast.
"Your ride?" Misato says, nodding in the VTOLs direction.
All I can do is nod again.
"I think this is it then," Misato says and pushes off of the railing.
"Will he be alright?" I say voice raised against the rumble of the VTOL.
"Don't worry. He's stronger than he looks," Misato yells. "And I'll look out for him." She raises her arm, fingers crossed. "Promise." The VTOL slows down until it hovers over the landing pad. The blow of its engines swirls around us as it starts into a slow descent.
"Thanks!" I yell back while trying to keep my hair out of my face.
Before I can turn away, Misato's arms are around me and keep me in a deep embrace. She pulls away slowly, her hands still holding my shoulders. She takes another look at me, then turns around and leaves the pad. Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I know that this is probably the last time I'm going to see her. It's hard to tell how that makes me feel.
Meanwhile, an awfully important-looking figure has emerged from the VTOL waving me over. Somehow I didn't expect my liaison to wear a suit. Well, I guess Misato's right and this is it. There's only one thing left to do.
Without looking I pull the photo from my pocket and hold it between my fingers, my arm relaxed at my side. I take a deep breath and finally let go. The photo gets blown out of my hand and off to the edge of the landing pad, where it gets stuck at a railing bar. It sits there like it's holding on for dear life, fluttering frantically in the stream of air. In a few moments, it will tip over and vanish forever. The knot in my throat tightens and my heart starts to race.
Shit, shit,
"Shit!" I dash forward and smash onto my knees. My hand shoots forward just before the photo can slip through the bars. Ignoring my burning knees, I make one final mistake and take a look at it.
A girl and a boy in front of a red Ferris wheel are laughing back at me. The girl's smile shines bright like she's having the best day of her life, one arm draped around the boy's shoulders. The boy holds her by the waist, proud but with a certain heaviness that underlies his eyes and creeps into his smile. As if he can sense how everything's about to go topside.
"I hate you," I whisper and for the third time this week my vision blurs.
AN:
This is loosely based on a short story I wrote ages ago. Initially, I shelved it bc it was a mess. Lately, I edited parts and I think I can get it into something readable at least. It's still a total mess don't get me wrong but it's my mess and I had fun messing it up.
Since I don't want to waste people's time, please consider the following:
- Loosely based means it borrows some premise and plot elements from the short story but that's about it. It's a different story.
- I have no clue what I'm doing
- I'm not a native speaker
You have been warned :-)