Part 1 - Perdition City
October 2016
I first notice the horribly familiar smell of ammonia and antiseptics. Then the buzz and hum of medical equipment and somewhere in the distance a melancholy beep that pulses to the rhythm of my—heartbeat? That's strange. My heart shouldn't beat anymore. I remember having it ripped out alongside my guts by these grinning abominations. Next, I hear click-clack steps and voices, muffled as if my ears are submerged.
Mama? Mama! She really came back to me. I try to move and make myself noticed, but my limbs are concrete. I can't even open my eyes. What is going on here? Where am I? Where's Mama? The voices start to become clearer. I try to relax and listen in.
"How long has she been like this?"
"About nine months."
"And I'm the first to visit her?"
"The regulations are very strict. The Ikari-Boy comes here occasionally, though."
"Poor girl. It's hard to imagine what—wait, is that normal?"
"What do you mean?"
"Look, her eyes."
"Oh my—"
Suddenly, the room is filled with voices. I concentrate, gathering every ounce of strength I can muster, and pry my eyes open. Pain stabs through my left eye, but I fight the urge to shut it again. Slowly, the blurred images make sense. I'm lying in some kind of hospital bed and people are hovering over me, faces swimming in and out of focus. I try to call out, but something blocks my throat. Panic shoots through my body as my lungs refuse to inflate. Help me, I can't breathe. I can't breathe. Mama, help me. Without warning, my body lights up in pain, and a strange gurgling sound escapes my throat.
"It's okay," a female voice says. "Try to breathe." I suck in as much air as I can, my lungs burning as if I'm breathing water.
"Mama?" I manage, shocked by the rasping sound of my voice. "No, honey," someone says. A hand strokes my head, "Your mother isn't here." My eyes dart around in panic. Why does it hurt so much?
"I—I can't move, it hurts," I rasp and try to press against the pain. My body rears up every muscle in it cramping. Hands push me down. The pain is overwhelming.
"Morphin, eighty milligrams, now!" someone screams as my body slips fully out of control.
Please someone help me. Let me die. Before I lose my mind completely, mild comfort embraces me and my mind flatlines.
"Shhh, It's okay," the female voice echoes from somewhere far away.
Thump.
I'm bodiless in an endless space.
Thump.
I don't feel like myself. Everything that made me… it's just...gone.
Thump.
There's something out there, just on the edge of my mind. It's cold and ancient. It's pulling at me, trying to draw me in.
Come home. Complete me.
Seven glowing eyes…. They see everything …
When I snap into existence again, pain jolts through my body. My eyes shoot open and I groan in shock at the realization that I´m still alive. I blink to un-blur my vision but the world stays a milky soup.
"Asuka!" an all too familiar voice gasps next to me. Oh no, please God or whatever asshole's responsible for me not being dead. Why him? Of all the people I never wanted to see again, why does it have to be him?
"Should—" It costs me all my energy to gather enough saliva to speak. "—have let me die." I manage to croak before I slip back into nothingness. I hope that this is the last time I have to wake up.
My eyes fill with tears while I reach back and prepare to throw the crumpled magazine page that I`ve been holding in my hand. It arcs through the air and hits the tiled floor of my hospital room halfway between my bed and the TV that's mindlessly hanging at the ceiling. There it joins its brethren, sole witnesses of my futile battle against boredom.
I suck in a sharp breath to ease the pain in my shoulder. When the edge is gone I assess my performance. Not bad. Could be worse all things considered. But there's definitely room for improvement.
The news anchor doesn't seem too impressed either and drones on about the news. Permanent exclusion zone established around NERV HQ, official inauguration ceremony for the memorial site, blah blah blah. I've heard it all at least ten times today.
Bored to death I revert my attention to the magazine in my lab and I skip through a few more pages. Sure enough, I find another page with Shinji's face on it. The numb piece of flesh that used to be my right arm holds the magazine in place while I start ripping.
Aaaand... there goes another one.
The news cut to a clip of the aforementioned inauguration ceremony. The camera pans and there he is again, presenting a wide smirk and waving at the gathered people. Speaking of worse. I grab the remote and increase the volume
He looks so confident and sure of himself; it's like he's actually enjoying himself. Maybe NERV has replaced him with an actor. Or a clone. Or both. NERV's science division would be up for stuff like that.
Wonder why little Miss Perfect isn't up there with him. There are no mentions of her in the news either and definitely no magazine pictures. It's as if she just vanished. I guess even the science division has its limits when it comes to presentability. Fine with me. After she turned her Evangelion into charcoal, there was no use for her anyway. So, I hope NERV has sent her back to whatever freak show they pulled her out of in the first place.
I squeeze the remote until my hand starts to hurt. That's my spot. I should be standing there, laughing and joking with reporters, humble bragging about how I saved the goddamn world but of course it's him. Him, him, him, him, him.
I´m about to throw the remote into the TV but that won't solve anything and I'll need it in a few minutes. I've watched enough anyway. The endless reruns of pre-impact melodrama will turn my brain into mush and I certainly can't have that 'cause it's the only part of my body that's not completely broken.
So it turns out that comas don't work like they do in pre-impact movies. Especially if the reason for said coma is severe nerve damage due to neural feedback. Being in full sync while your Eva is ripped to shreds really fucks you up.
The gist is something like this; Muscles and cartilage are the first to go. Bones and nerve tissue follow after approximately fourteen days. And while you're busy digesting yourself your body conspires against you and comes up with all kinds of ways to malfunction.
After six months you find yourself in a world where everything is excruciatingly painful. Everything! And thanks to Shinji Ikari that's exactly where I woke up. He's the reason why I'm still alive and I'll never forgive him for that. A gentle knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts.
"Hey, can I come in?" Shinji says and slips into the room without waiting for my response, a big sports bag in hand.
"Fuck off," I say and hurl the remote in his direction. It hits his chest with a hollow thump and falls to the ground, spilling batteries over the floor. I grit my teeth and press out a silent curse. I guess I shouldn't be so hard on myself. It's pretty hard to aim with only one working eye. And the trajectory was decent. Maybe two or three more days and I´ll be able to hit his stupid face.
"Could you please stop throwing stuff at me?" Shinji says and begins to gather the pieces. "I don't know if I can convince them to give you another one."
"See, I would just punch you," I say and point to my arm. "But I'm a little bit crippled today."
He mumbles something to himself, stands up, and moves past my bed. A stream of fresh summer air mixes with the heavy smell of the room as he opens the windows. This is usually the first thing Shinji does if he's not busy picking up stuff I've thrown at him.
From there he starts his clean-up routine. The nurses don't bother coming here anymore unless they have to or Shinji tells them to. Granted, that's on me. Our relationship nosedived as soon I was able to speak more than a few words. Guess it couldn't be avoided. Throwing stuff and talking shit are the only things I've got left.
But hey, they like Shinji. Everybody likes Shinji these days. He's everywhere I look. Always smiling. So I do my best to make it disappear while he's here. Meanwhile, the boy in question has arrived at the basket with my dirty clothes.
"What's it with you and my dirty underwear? I say "Can't you be a creep somewhere else? Stupid perv." God, even to me that sounded forced but old habits die hard. Shinji shoots me a frowning glance. Ha, as if I´m the one who needs to grow up. I scowl back at him and hope that his head explodes. Disappointingly it doesn't so I tuck a strain of greasy hair behind my ear and continue to observe Shinji while he carefully picks up new clothes from the sports bag.
I don't know what it is exactly—maybe his defined chin or the way his shoulders start to fill out his shirt—but puberty is doing him a few favors in the looks department.
Something I can't exactly say about myself. I don't need a mirror to know that I look like a prop from a pre-impact horror movie. It's all written in the way Shinji looks at me. If he can bring himself to look at me for more than a straight second, that is. Just another one of these coma things movies don't tell you about.
"You could just tell me if you don't like them anymore," Shinji says when he arrives at my bed and notices the mangled magazine. "I'll buy different ones if you want."
God knows why he bothers coming here every day. He never really cared for me, so why on earth does he pretend to give a shit now? I could just ask him, but it was already hard enough to get the basics out of him. That's the unspoken rule between us. He doesn't talk and I don't care.
"Oh no, those are great," I say. "I just love to read stories about how you saved the world."
"Okay, okay, I get it. Just let me know if you need something okay?"
"What I really need is for you to fuck off."
For a moment he looks like he wants to retort but defaults back to sighing and rummages through his sports bag again. This time he takes out a lunchbox and a set of chopsticks. The savory smell of something fermented enters my nose.
"I'm not hungry," I say but my stomach immediately betrays me by groaning.
"Sure," Shinji says with a slight smile and places the open lunchbox in my lab. It contains two big rice balls, steamed vegetables, and a piece of meat I'm unable to identify. "I think I'll leave it here for now. Just in case."
A real smartmouth today, aren't we? Maybe it's time to extend my arsenal. Those rice balls look like decent projectiles and what they lack in ballistic properties —
"Don't even think about it," he says.
"Or what?"
"Or you can go back to eating hospital food."
Shinji's patience knows limits. That's a lesson I learned last week. Since I´m too hungry to call his bluff I mutter a curse and start to shove dry rice into my mouth.
"You like it?" He says and his face lights up a bit more. "I tried something new." He's not the great cook he thinks he is but I have to admit that he really puts in some effort and his food tastes miles better than the stuff from the hospital canteen.
"It's okay," I mumble in between bites. Shinji nods enthusiastically, eyes big like a puppy. There is still plenty of his old self left. Pat his head and he'll wag his tail. It's pathetic.
"Doctor Izumi says you need to gain some weight before you can start physical therapy," he says. I pause for a second and let the chopsticks sink into my lab. There has to be an insult in there somewhere or at least a snarky remark. Nothing enters my mind so I keep staring at the lunchbox.
Of course, I need to get stronger before they will start any form of serious regeneration therapy. I know that. I'm crippled, not stupid. The thing is, I´m not starting physical therapy. They can't force me and I´ve decided to just sit here until I dissolve. Why would I go through all the trouble and pain? NERV pays for my luxurious hospital suite and they're not cheap on the pain medication. Plus I get to make Shinji's life a bit worse.
"Asuka?"
I look up. "I don't want any therapy."
"But—you can't just quit now. You´ve already made so much progress."
"Progress?" I snap and Shinji backs away from my bed. "Have you looked at me lately? I can´t walk, my eye is fucked, and I´ll never use my arm again. So tell me how much progress I've made." The truth is: I´m done. We both know it but for some reason, he doesn't accept it.
"You have to fight Asuka. If you give up now you'll never be able to get out of here."
"So what? Nobody cares."
"That's not true," he says and his voice gets that whiny overtone that makes my pulse race. "You're not alone. Everybody's rooting for you."
"Yeah, sure." I scoff "I'm practically drowning in visitors''. Why does he even bother? Can't he see that there's barely anything left in that husk of a body?
"I know you Asuka. If there is a person strong enough to get through this it´s you." He squares his shoulders, face determined. "I believe in you."
"Wow," I gasp in mock surprise, pressing my hand onto my chest. "Such powerful and inspiring words. You're a life coach now?" I'm sick of this discussion and I think it's about time for Shinji to leave.
"Let me assure you that you know shit about me. But I bet there's a lot of demand for this kind of crap out there. Let's see," I say and let my finger bounce on my chin for a moment "Oh right, why don't you save your motivational bullshit for Toji? Say, how's his leg doing these days?"
Shinji winces as if I've just slapped him and I declare victory. But it's a bitter one and anything but fair. When I see his eyes I feel a stab in my chest. But it's not supposed to be fair. Life isn't fair, right?
Shinji gets to walk out of here. I won't. He'll live a happy life as the hero who saved the world and he'll forget about me, just like everyone else has. He has everything I've ever dreamed of while I'm stuck in a broken body. And the only reason he comes here is to rub it in my face. The final, undeniable proof that he surpassed me. I won't grant him that satisfaction. Fuck him and fuck his feelings.
Shinji picks up the sports bag with my dirty stuff and heads for the door. My heart´s now officially clocking in overtime and I'm glad that I'm not hooked up to the heart rate monitor anymore. That thing would definitely explode.
"Yeah run," I scream at his back. "Run right back to Mama Misato and don't come back."
He stops. "Hate me all you want," his shoulders rise and fall. "But I won't just let you rot in this room." When he turns around that lopsided smile is back on his face. "See you tomorrow,"
"Stay the fuck out of my life," I yell as he closes the door to my small universe. My heart still drums in my chest. If I could, I would run after him and smash his skull.
My whole body trembles in anger, and a prickling sensation runs through my arm. My right arm! My good eye wanders down in disbelief and my heart skips a beat. My fingers—they are twitching as if they want to curl into a fist. I concentrate and they twitch again. Holy—.
A lot of dangerous maybe's start to pop up in my head. Maybe, there is a way out of here. Maybe Shinji really means what he says and I'm not entirely alone. Maybe somewhere inside me, there is still something left worth fighting for.
Still confused, I try to make a fist again. As a reward, glazing pain stabs through my arm, just as mind-robbing as when the lance cut through it. I have to press my teeth together to not cry out loud. It takes a solid minute for the pain to ebb away enough so I can breathe normally again.
Or maybe Shinji's just full of shit.
I lean forward and grab the remote of the PCA pump. The small, green apparatus next to my bed starts to purr as I press the release button. I don't want to think about Maybes anymore. Thinking is overrated. Besides, the highlight of my day has just left the building and he'll eventually figure that I'm not worth all the trouble.
So I keep the button pressed until I hit the daily limit. Liquid content spreads through my veins and anger, pain, Shinji, everything leaves backstage. Only one coherent thought stays. I don't want to die in a bed.
Then I fall, through the embrace of pillow and sheets, into an abyss.
My parents visit me a few days later. They would've come sooner but apparently, Mother has a "medical condition" that required her to get medical approval before taking the long flight from Germany.
Shinji's smart enough to stay away during their visit and I'm glad because the moment they come through the door I have to bite back tears. Mother waddles in first. Papa, towering, follows behind her. The tears come anyway when I see the shock on their faces.
I hate the way I am around them and I hate that they see me like this. Mother rubs my back while I sob. Papa seems angry but like always he's professional about the whole situation. He doesn't waste much time and starts discussing therapy details with my doctors. From colleague to colleague, you know. They talk about having me transferred to Germany. The level of care NERV provides is lightyears ahead of everything they have in Germany and my Father is just a pediatrician, not one of the world's leading experts in nerve damage so it's off the table faster than I can slap Shinji. In all of this, I'm never asked what I want—which is to be left alone and watch TV. So I spent the time listening and staring at the bump on Mother's belly, wondering when they're gonna tell me.
"You're going to be a big sister," they say on their last day. "We wanted it to be a surprise. Aren't you excited?"
"Huh," I say and with that everything necessary has been said. I don't even blame them for having me replaced. I wouldn't want myself as a daughter, either.
I'm glad Mama—my real one—doesn't have to see me like this. I bet she'd detest the failure I've turned out to be. I haven't told anyone that I've felt her presence in the Entryplug. They'd laugh me out of the building. Honestly, I barely believe it myself. My memories of that time are like a foggy soup and there's a pretty good chance my brain made Mama's presence up to handle the stress. The doctors say that messed-up memories aren't unusual. After all, it's a miracle that I'm alive. Lucky me, I guess.
My parents leave eventually and I get my wish fulfilled. The door to my room falls shut and I'm alone. Silence closes around me droning out everything.
I seriously doubt Shinji's coming back. Can't blame him. Not after all the stuff I've thrown at him. I'm not exactly proud of laying into him like that. But what else was I supposed to do? So yeah, if he's smart he'll stay away. Slowly it dawns on me that I'll be alone from now on. Like, really, completely alone and the walls of my room begin to close down on me, threatening to crush me.
I don't even want Shinji to come back, but the thought of him bailing for good and leaving me to rot grows so terrifying that I can barely breathe. So when he sticks his stupid head through my door the next day I'm so relieved I almost start to cry again. What a pathetic little crybaby I've become.
My relief doesn't hold long because Shinji's still supremely annoying. I warn him multiple times but he just won't shut up about physical therapy. So I climb out of my bed and take a swing at him. At least in my head, I do. In reality, I manage one and a half steps only to hit the deck, face first. When Shinji has helped me back into my bed he has the audacity to smile. That idiot's got nerves. As if my little stunt proved some kind of stupid point. But I can't help but smile back a little. I can't remember the last time I smiled.