The thing about being normal is that it's aggressively boring. Seriously, I don't know how people keep this up their whole life. Days are gooey, never-ending blobs, all alike. It's only been a few weeks since I first came to see Shinji, but it already feels like an eternity. The worst part? Nothing. Ever. Happens. It's infuriating.
Luckily it's not all bad. I've been hanging out at Shinji's a lot lately. Someone's gotta keep that fool from losing his sanity over differential algebra, and besides, his place is way nicer than Misato's biohazard lab. Through some kind of miracle we haven't strangled each other yet so I guess this 'friendship' thing's working out for now. If I'm completely honest—and I can't believe I'm actually thinking this— I like spending time with Shinji. Even if it's just arguing about what to watch on TV or yelling at him for sucking at video games. I don't know, it's just way more fun than being alone.
Today, I decided to go for an early run. There's this awesome trail around the lake, perfect for jogging. The pine trees even smell like the woods back home, which is kinda nice. I'm aiming for ten kilometers in under forty minutes. It's ambitious to say the least but I want to get back to old shape as fast as possible so I'll have to push myself a little.
Back home, I used to run all the time. I didn't really need the exercise—NERV's training schedule had me in top shape all year around—It was just something I did for myself, without the lab coats, noting performance metrics on their goddamn clipboards. Funny how suddenly no one cares about my fitness level anymore.
The first ten minutes of my run suck. My legs feel like lead weights, and the cold air knifes my lungs all the while I'm anxious for any signs of weakness or nausea. But after a while, my breath steadies and my feet hit the soft forest floor in a strong rhythm. Suddenly I feel fantastic. The air is cool against my skin, and I'm flying through the trees like I can do this forever. Maybe Misato's right. Maybe I should let myself enjoy this more. Sure, it's nothing like piloting an Eva—but for now this is fine. I might even get used to it.
By the time the apartment complex comes back into view, my chest is heaving, and sweat clings to my skin. I probably pushed a little too hard. I can feel it in the wobble of my knees so I slow down and walk the rest of the way. Nearing the entrance I half-notice a girl leaning against the fence, her thumbs flicking nervously across her phone screen. She perks up when I pass her but I'm too busy looking forward to my well-deserved shower to pay much attention.
What does catch my attention, though, is the security booth. It's empty. Weird. There's usually at least one guard in there, even if they're just scrolling on their phone or pretending to be busy. Probably shift change or something like that.
The lock beeps when I press my ID against it then the door unlocks and I slip into the quiet apartment, ready to ditch my sweaty clothes and dive into a hot shower. But first, I take a quick peek into Shinji's study. He's already hunched over his desk, face twisted in a frustrated frown. I never thought he'd actually stick with it, but the level of ambition he's got now is kind of impressive... even if it's starting to freak me out a little. He's getting a bit obsessive lately.
I give the door a light tap. "You alive in there?" Shinji lets out a frustrated sigh, slumping back in his chair.
"Barely. I just don't understand how anyone's supposed to learn all of this. I feel like I'm getting nowhere."
"Oh, come on now. At least you're over the whole 'I'm gonna gouge my eyes out' phase. That's progress."
He shoots me a glare. "Thanks for the encouragement, Asuka. That really helps."
"Hey, I'm just saying you should remember to—"
"Don't—just don't say it."
"Oh, you know I'm going to say it, especially since a certain someone couldn't shut up about this for months on end. So, my dear Third Child, I am basically obligated to remind you that thou shall make small steps."
He grunts a reply.
I lean against the doorframe. "Well, I'll head out to the city. Want me to drop by later and help you?"
"I'm expected at HQ," he mumbles absently, not even looking up.
"So? Call in sick." I say. "You still owe me a rematch." Sometimes I get him to call in sick and spend the day playing video games with me. He sucks. Completely. In all of them. He's getting better though and yesterday he somehow managed to trick me. But it looks like I have to wait for my rematch.
"No, not today. I'm sorry." He fidgets with the pen in his hand, avoiding my eyes. "Lieutenant Ibuki wants to run some kind of test at the research site. They say it might be dangerous, so... they need Unit-01" His voice is all flat, like he's already halfway gone. Then the room goes quiet for a second.
He tries not to let it on, but I can tell how much being NERVs only Pilot and poster child weighs on him. It just adds to my worries because I don't know how to help him other than to give him a pep-talk once in a while. At least he hasn't lied about the meds. As far as I can tell he really doesn't take them anymore. Not that I'm counting or anything.
Still, I can't help it—there's this ugly part of me that's so freaking jealous. God, I hate that I'm jealous of him but I'd murder to trade places, to be the one they need and depend on. The one that doesn't need anxiety meds to get through the day. At least it would feel like I'm doing something that matters. My big contribution to society today? Surviving another hour of counseling without succumbing to boredom.
"Okay, fine," I say. "Be a buzzkill. I might stop by in the evening, so try not to get hurt or something, okay? I want my rematch!" I don't wait for a response and close the door behind me.
After a quick shower, I wipe off the mirror with my towel, leaving streaks behind. My reflection stares back at me for a second—one eye bright, clear blue, the other clouded over with that pale red haze. My stomach twists like it always does when I really look at it. I don't hate it anymore, not really, but it's hard to ignore. I tilt my head, leaning in close. A contact lens would make it less obvious. Not like it would fix anything; All it ever sees is smudges and shadows, and that's on a good day. But maybe people wouldn't stare as much. Maybe I wouldn't stare as much. I'd look normal.
I blow out a breath and reach for my rouge brush. Because that's what I am now, right? Just a normal girl with a totally normal day doing normal-people-stuff like going to therapy and aimlessly hanging out at a friend's house. Completely normal. Nothing strange or tragic or worth writing a sad little poem about. I drag the brush over my cheeks then reach for my eyeliner and pause.
Huh, I didn't even realize how much of my stuff has found its way here already- lipsticks, brushes, hair ties, and a whole mess of things spilling across the sink. My toothbrush is here too, wedged next to his in a tiny, overcrowded cup.
Before I can think about it too much, the alarm on my phone reminds me to hurry up. The bus isn't going to wait for me.
I'm about to put on my shoes when I hear a scratching sound outside the front door. I press my ear against the metal and I listen in closely, anxious that I might've brought the spooks from Misato's place. But no —there it is again. There's definitely something outside. Well, when in doubt, charge in, guns blazing. Adrenaline-fueled I take a deep breath and rip the door open, fully prepared to face the distorted figures from my dreams. The girl from earlier jerks away from the door with a squeaky sound and for a few seconds we both look at each other completely bewildered. I'm the first to draw.
"Who the hell are you?" Although the more fitting question would've been how the hell did you get up here? Did the guard just let her through? The girl blinks, then she looks back down the hallway like I've just caught her stealing.
"Uhm, I, uh... Shinji Ikari? I'm searching for him?"
"Ugh, of course, you are," I sigh and narrow my eyes. "What do you want?" My good mood from earlier has fully evaporated. What the hell is this person thinking? Showing up here unannounced and disturbing my boring morning?
A shaky bow follows. "I'm Aizawa Homura," she says, enunciating each word carefully. "I tutor at U-Tokyo. I haven't heard from Ikari in a while, and, well, as a tutor it's my duty to check on the new students."
"Duty, huh?" I give her a quick once-over. She seems to be a bit older than me. Neatly combed black hair, flushed cheeks, and pancake makeup to cover a round and very, very mediocre face. Yeah, no way she's here on 'duty'. Although she's low-key cute. The dangerous kind of cute that you might underestimate. I peek back into the apartment. Shinji's door is still closed and I think he hasn't heard anything yet.
"Well, Shinji's busy," I say flatly, turning back to the door. "So bye und auf Nimmerwiedersehen."
"W-Wait!" she stammers, and before I can slam the door shut, she wedges her foot in the gap. For a moment, I just stare my gaze flickering between her foot and her face wondering if she'd prefer a black eye courtesy of my fist or the doorframe.
"Sorry, but… I really have to talk to him," she blurts, her voice speeding up like she's running out of breath. "He seems to be struggling with the material, and maybe I can offer some help. It's my responsibility—"
That does it. My grip tightens on the door as I shove it open wide, stepping into the hallway. She stumbles back, and I step into her space, my arms crossed as I look her up and down, this time slow and deliberate so she knows I'm doing it. Then I sigh a long deep sigh.
"Listen, Aizala or whatever," I say. "Shinji's not just some kid who needs help with his homework. He's a freaking Evangelion pilot. You know what that means? We've got important stuff to do— really important stuff like, 'fighting giant monsters while the rest of you panic and hide' important. You might think your cute little courses are important but trust me—they're not. You get me?"
"Excuse me," she says, her voice gaining a hint of steel. "Who are you again?"
"A friend," I reply, raising my chin a notch. "That's politely asking you to leave."
Her jaw tightens, but she doesn't show any intentions of leaving. Instead, she pulls out a scrap of paper. "Fine," she mutters, thrusting it into my hand. "Just —Just in case he does need my help after all." She spins on her heel and walks off.
I wait a beat, listening to the fading sound of her hurried footsteps, looking at the note with her number in my hand. Was I too harsh to her? I don't know, something about her just rubbed me the worst kind of way. She was the one who kept pushing and I wasn't even lying about Shinji being busy so excuse me if I don't immediately invite every random stray to the apartment. To think that she of all people could help him. What a joke. She was lucky the guard didn't shoo her away. They don't let anyone in so she must've told them a really good story. Luckily, I don't have to guess for long because the security booth is still empty when I pass the entrance. Figures. Not a lot of qualified personnel around anymore.
Counseling is a giant waste of time. I'd rather be scraping forks over porcelain all day, but a deal's a deal, and Asuka Soryu Langley keeps true to her deals. Even the shitty ones and It's not like I have a choice if I ever want to wear a Plugsuit again. At least the chairs are comfortable and Mr. Naka's voice is pleasant enough to drone off to. Actually, it's Doctor Naka but what does he even have a PhD in? Talking and feelings? Hardly worth an academic title. Still, if it weren't for the clipboard that he uses to eagerly scribble down to, he'd almost be likable. I just can't stand people with clipboards.
His office lies in a newly rebuilt section near the city center. Bland walls, industrial looking except for the weird art on the walls—a wild mish-mash of tangled lines and colors that look like someone barfed up a rainbow. I bet it's a test. Everything is a test with these people. Like, he watches what painting you look at, and if you stare at the wrong one for too long— Gotcha, off in the looney bin you go. But I'm smarter than him so I've made it a point to completely ignore the paintings …but that's probably part of the test too. Clipboard people are like that. You just can't trust them.
I mostly play along, presenting my best good girl smile and agreeing with him. Everything to convince him that we both could save a lot of time if he would just clear me.
"This is not what this is about, Asuka," he said the last time I brought it up, with that infuriatingly warm, understanding smile. Except this is exactly what this is about. I've been with NERV long enough to know when I'm being assessed. Everything's a test and every mistake will be cataloged. Mr. Naka may seem nice, but I know his type. He's just waiting for me to slip, for some tiny crack to poke at, so he can tear me open and start dissecting. Just like the fifteenth Angel. I'm getting sick just thinking about it.
These people. They sit in their comfy chairs, asking stupid questions about my life and how I feel but they have no idea what it's been like. None of them ever cared. Bruised your rib in training? Suck it up. Feel down because you missed the only birthday party you were invited to in sixth grade because the new interface needed to be calibrated? Too bad, the world's at stake here girl. Mind scrambled by a god-like entity? How about you take the day off? No, I'm not giving them anything they can use against me.
I shift in my seat and glance down at my nails as Mr. Naka's voice hums about "patterns and identity" or something. I wonder if I should start painting them. Burgundy, maybe? Or something more unusual, like green? Would be a nice contrast. I wonder if Shinji would notice. He's so wrapped up in everything that I doubt he even realizes how much time I spend at his place.
Speaking of Shinji…here's another question I'd like answered: Do I tell Shinji about his visitor? Looking back, I was pretty harsh to her. If I tell him, he might get mad—not the yelling kind of mad, but that disappointed, quiet kind that's so much worse. So, no, I'm not telling him. But how do I figure out what he thinks of her? Because I really want to know. Worst-case scenario, I come off like a jealous psycho. Which I'm not. I'm just curious. And maybe a little suspicious.
After the session, I kill some time in the lounge, unsure what to do with myself. God, that was useless. Well, at least I now know seven different relaxation techniques, so the next time a nightmare sneaks up on me, I can bore it to death. So helpful!
Why am I the one who received capital punishment by shrink, eh? Shinji doesn't have to go. No, he gets to do all the cool stuff and he doesn't even want to. And I bet no one would have bothered sending the honor student to a freaking therapist. Then I have to laugh because hell, she would have made Mr. Naka regret every single life choice. Sitting across from him giving him the death stare, answering every question with a monotone, "Why?"
I wonder what she'd do now if she'd made it. She didn't strike me as someone who had much else than piloting. Maybe we weren't all that different in that regard—but who knows? Maybe she had plans for herself. Something she liked to do but couldn't because of the Angels. Hobbies maybe? Something that was important to her but she never shared because no one ever gave enough of a damn to ask.
I sigh. There's still a whole day to kick around so I might as well pay her a visit.
The Memorial is made up of massive black-marbled pillars, each maybe five meters wide. They're arranged in a circle around a central cube smack dab in the middle of the city square. People are scattered around, some laying down flowers, others are chatting. It's weird. Kinda crazy to think about all the cash they splurged on this. I can't help but wonder if they could've used that money to fix up Unit-02 instead of this shrine for the dead. Not like they'd know the difference.
I weave my way between the pillars, feeling kind of lost. Names are carved into the marble—or at least, that's how it looks. When I touch one, though, it lights up, and a UI window slides open. A young woman's face pops up, probably a few years older than me. There's a short info-text about her life, who she was, and what she liked to do. Further down are messages from family and friends. A whole life reduced to a box. I move to another name. Then another until it starts to feel wrong—like opening someone else's diary, or walking through a room where you don't belong. How am I supposed to find a single name in all of this?
Fortunately, there's a terminal right next to the central pillar with a search function. I type her name, and the info box directs me to her. Even then, it takes some time to find her. There are so many names, my eye blurs just trying to skim them. When I finally find her my stomach twists. I knew I'd find her—Shinji wouldn't lie about something like that—but seeing it is different.
I lay my finger gently on the marble and the window comes up, just like it did for all the others. Only that hers is completely empty. No text, no little notes. They didn't even bother to upload a photo. It's just her name in stark, empty letters.
"You weren't big on hobbies, huh?" I mutter reflexively, but the second it's out, I want to kick myself. It's not funny. It's not even a joke, really. It's just pathetic. This is all that's left of her, and here I am cracking jokes. Then it hits me, sharp and sudden, like I've been punched in the gut, and for one terrible second something hot stings at the back of my eyes.
This is all that's left of her. This. Nothing else. My hand flies to my mouth as my lips start to tremble. It's—it's just so unfair. She fought too; she bled, and she died and no one knows. All the people walking past this stupid pillar don't even know who she was. They should've built her a goddamn statue or something, not this—this tiny, sad, forgettable line carved into fake stone. It makes me sick because I know if I'd been the one to die if I'd kicked the bucket instead of her—this would've been me. Just like Mama. When she died, Papa never talked about her again, not once. It was like she never even existed. To be erased like that? That's worse than dying! No way that's gonna be me. I won't let that happen.
"I'm sorry for calling you a doll," I whisper. "Don't get me wrong, I still don't like you but you deserved better."
I pull my hand away and take a step back. Then another but I can't tear my gaze away from my reflection. It's staring right back at me from the black marble just where her picture would've been. Something catches my attention—movement on my face. A small stream of something trickles down from under my eyepatch. Automatically, I wipe it away. My fingers come away red. My stomach drops—blood? No… it's too light. I look back at my reflection and struggle for balance as I watch my face decompose in the glass. My flesh sags and oozes away in clotty, rancid rivulets, and beneath the ruined skin, there's something else— A half-formed, visage, red eyes wide, a mouth contorted in agony.
No. No, no, no. It's not real. It can't be real.
A searing pain tears through my arm. I look down to find a mess of bloody, shredded ribbons of flesh. I already know what's coming next. I stagger backward, sinking to my knees as my stomach splits open.
"You're fine," I mutter, squeezing my eye shut. "This isn't real. Just breathe." I clutch my left arm to my abdomen, desperate to hold everything in. "It's just a dream, Soryu. You're still alive so get up and walk away."
My fists clench. "Get up. You hear me? Get. The fuck. Up."
With all my will, I push myself to my feet. My legs feel like jelly, but I lock my knees and take one unsteady step, then another. Just keep moving. One step at a time. Don't look down. Don't look back.
I find myself in a small cafe on a chair in a far corner. The hum of voices and the hiss of the espresso machine blur into a low murmur. My head's a complete mess. I only hastily remember scrambling away from the Memorial and ordering a Coke. The waiter stared at me like I'm a crazy person. Maybe I am.
What the hell was that? Phantom pain, maybe? But I know how phantom pain feels and it's not that. What about the glimpses I had before? I had moments where I thought I saw or felt things that weren't there. No, this was something else entirely more like my nightmares just in brought daylight. It felt so real—I've never experienced something like this.
Oh, that's not true… remember what happened after the fifteenth Angel? Remember the bathtub?
My hand begins to shake again. "Stop that." I hiss between my teeth and I grip my hands together, forcing them to stop shaking. Right, after the 15th Angel— I completely went off the rails … I don't even remember most of it clearly. Just flashes. Something dark and cold and breaking so it's impossible to say for sure but still it feels close enough, like I was coming apart piece by piece.
Dammit, I thought I'd been over this. But I'm not crazy. I just need to get my act together. Shinji has managed it so I sure as hell can too. It's probably just sleep deprivation messing with my head. I read in some magazine that not sleeping enough can make your brain go haywire. People hallucinate the wildest things. That's gotta be it—lack of sleep. I'll give those relaxation exercises an honest try, and rack up some brownie points with Mr. Naka. If that doesn't help I'll demand stronger sleeping meds. Simple fix.
I'm so lost in my head that I almost don't notice the sharp clack of heels cutting through the café's hum.
"Miss Soryu?"
I glance up, startled. A tall woman stands in front of my table—European-looking, her blonde hair pulled into a perfect bun, not a strand out of place. She gestures to the empty seat across mine.
"Mind if I join you?" she asks. Her voice is smooth, with a thick German accent. I very much do mind, but before I can say anything, she's already seated herself, placing a sleek, expensive handbag on the table.
"I don't do interviews," I say defensively. "And I don't know anything about Shinji Ikari, alright?" Better to shut this down fast. I've had quite enough surprise encounters for one day and I'm still too shaken to deal with anyone, let alone a reporter.
The woman raises an eyebrow, and a faint smile plays at the corner of her lips. "Oh, but what makes you think I'm here to talk about the Third Child?"
That word— Third Child. Civilians don't use that term. I sit up straighter, my pulse kicking up.
"Okay, lady," I say, trying to sound a lot braver than I feel, "I don't know who you are, but I'm kind of in the middle of something so unless this is important—"
She chuckles—a soft, controlled sound. "Straight to business. Just as I imagined you'd be." She leans forward slightly and extends her hand. "Captain Marie Leiss, pleased to finally meet the famous Second Child."
I blink, my mind scrambling to connect the dots. German accent …Leiss…UN… Oooh . Oh crap it's her. She's the new head of the Evangelion program and I just went right in her face. Crap, now I'm really screwed am I? Will she kick me out for good now? Wait, can she even do that? But seriously, how was I supposed to know it was her? Why is she here, of all places?
"I—I'm sorry, ma'am—" I stammer, heat creeping up my neck. "I didn't realize—"
She waves me off with a casual flick of her hand. "Relax. I'm not here in an official capacity. Now—" She claps her hands. "What are we having?"
"I don't understand?"
She nods at my glass. "Well, surely you're not just here to drink Diet Coke. I've heard they serve excellent cheesecake at this café. I've been dying to get my hands on a proper slice ever since I landed in Japan. It's never quite as good as back home, don't you think?" I can just stare at her. Cheesecake? Is she serious right now? My brain's flipping through every possible scenario. Is this some kind of weird test? It's got to be a test. Or am I being pranked? What do I even say to that?
"I don't really know," I mumble, feeling like an idiot. Captain Leiss doesn't seem to notice—or care—that I'm absolutely floundering right now. With a quick wave, she flags down the waiter. "Coffee, black. And two slices of cheesecake, please." She glances at me again. "Cream?"
I nod dumbly, and the waiter disappears. Captain Leiss turns back to me, her expression softening like she's trying to put me at ease. It's kind of working. Kind of.
"I owe you an apology, Miss Soryu," she says. "For intruding on your day like this. I know it's probably the last thing you wanted. To be honest, I wasn't quite planning to and it's not the way I usually do things but I couldn't resist the chance to finally meet the famous Second Child."
"I'm not famous," I grunt.
"Well to the people in my line of work, you are. I've read all the files, every mission report—" She sighs. "But that's all they really are—Numbers and facts. They don't show—" She gestures vaguely toward me. "This. You. The sacrifices you all had to endure. That's why I wanted to see for myself. Of course, I could've just summoned you but with all the contact regulations and access controls—this spares me a lot of paperwork."
Before I can say something stupid the the waiter reappears, sliding two plates of cheesecake and a steaming cup of coffee onto the table. Captain Leiss takes a forkful of cheesecake and gestures to mine. "Go on, try it. No point letting it sit there."
I pick up my fork and take a bite. It's good, actually. Creamy, with just the right amount of sweetness but Captain Leiss is right. It's not the same as in Germany. I've never been much of a cake person. Plugsuits don't forgive a lot of cheat days but Mother used to bake cheesecake for my birthday, with cinnamon and a lot of raisins, back when she still tried really hard to replace Mama.
"Do you like it?" Captain Leiss asks.
"It's good," I say, finally composing myself a little. "But I miss the cinnamon."
"Right?" Captain Leiss smiles, seemingly happy she's found a fellow cheesecake enjoyer.
She picks up her coffee again, her gaze soft but steady. "You know, when I took over this position from Major Katsuragi, I was shocked. I knew the Evangelion pilots were young, but this young?" She shakes her head. "It's one of the many details NERV likes to omit in their reports. So one of the first things I did was to visit you. I didn't know you then, of course. You were still well– incapacitated. But I felt—I don't know—responsible, I suppose." Her fingers tighten around the cup. "I kept thinking: What if this was my daughter? I can't imagine what your parents must've gone through."
Is that why she's here? To pity me? I don't want her pity, and a part of me wants to throw it right back at her face. The UN was the one who defunded the Evangelion program and took Unit-02 from me. Her people did that. I should be furious. And I am, I am. But there's something raw in her voice, something that feels real. It's disarming.
This time she seems to sense my discomfort. There is a sudden change in her posture. "I'm making you uncomfortable, am I?" She says and then, "I'm sorry. It was unprofessional of me to come here. I should've respected your decision to stay in private. I just wanted to make sure you're doing well and I'm glad you are. It makes me—" She pauses as if searching for the right words. "It makes me hopeful. "
My decision? I didn't decide anything, they benched me.
"Well, I've wasted enough of your time," Captain Leiss says, standing up. She smooths down her skirt and looks at me, almost maternal. "Thank you, Miss Soryu. On behalf of the United Nations, and the countless people who owe their lives to your service. If you ever need anything—anything at all—don't hesitate to ask. It would be an honor to help."
She picks up her bag and slings it over her shoulder. "I wish you a great and peaceful life. You've more than earned it."
Then she strides away leaving me completely tilted, staring cross-eyed at the half-eaten cheesecake. You idiot, this is your chance. Why are you just sitting there? Do you want to end up like Ayanami? This is your chance you moron. Use it.
I shoot up. "Wait!" I call out, louder than I intended. A few people glance my way, but I ignore them.
Captain Leiss pauses, turning back with an arched brow. "Yes?"
I swallow hard, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks. "You can do something for me. Misa—Ehm Commander Katsuragi promised me another chance. She said she would test me to see if I can still synchronize."
"Did she now? Interesting. I wasn't aware of any upcoming tests."
"Yes she did and I'm ready. I—I want to be tested as soon as possible. I want to know if I can still pilot an Evangelion."
"Miss Soryu," she says carefully. "I appreciate your enthusiasm. I really do. If only certain others shared even half of your drive…" Leiss sighs softly, a hand resting lightly on her hip. "But the last thing I want is to force you back into an Entryplug. The program has already demanded so much from you—too much, to ask of a single person."
"But you're not forcing me," I say, sharper than I intended. "I want this. Want to do something useful."
She tilts her head, studying me. "I'm not sure Commander Katsuragi would be okay with this. She seems quite—protective of you. And stepping away from piloting is an understandable choice, and one that I deeply respect."
I flinch at that. Slowly I realize that Misato never had the intention to test me. She just said it to get me off her back and keep me quiet. I always knew she didn't like me much and the feeling was mutual but it still feels like a betrayal.
"Well Commander Katsuragi isn't here isn't she?" I say. "And I'm not a child and she's not my mother so she doesn't get to decide for me."
"No, she's not," Leiss agrees softly, though there's something in her expression that makes me feel like I've missed something important. She hesitates, her gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to mine.
"You should know that the Evangelion program is changing. It was always experimental. A desperate measure in desperate times. Things aren't like they were before. If you step back into this, you'll be stepping into a very different world. I'm not saying you wouldn't have a place. I'm saying it wouldn't be the place you're used to."
"I don't care, I'll do anything."
She sinks back into her chair slowly, like she's trying to figure out if I mean it. Then she pulls out a datapad from her purse, taps away at it, and glances up at me. Her eyes are sharp and calculating. "Done and done," she says, sliding the pad back.
"That—That's it?"
"Sure. I said I would do anything you asked me to, didn't I? Well, Miss Soryu, I honor my promises. But—I have to ask for something in return." Suddenly, the air between us feels heavy and my stomach flips. I have no idea what I could give a woman of her rank and influence. Maybe I'll have to work extra shifts. Hell, I'll scrub the toilets if they take me back.
Captain Leiss rummages in her purse again. "I have to admit it's a little embarrassing." she says and produces a glossy print of Unit-02 mid-swing as it smashes a practice target to pieces. It must be from one of my training deployments.
"My daughter is a very big fan of yours. She'd completely freak out if she knew I was sitting here, talking to the Pilot of Unit-02. She loves the color, by the way. I told her that it's piloted by a girl and now all she talks about is how she wants to be a pilot when she grows up."
I stare at the print for a second, feeling a little dumb, then reach for the pen she's holding out. My name comes out lopsided and awkward across the bottom of the picture, the paper crinkling a bit under my grip. This is the first time I've signed an autograph. For a child that wants to be like me. I don't know if I want anybody to be like me.
"Thank you," Captain Leiss says. "You've just made a young girl very happy. I'll be seeing you then." And just like that she's gone and the buzz and hum of the café rushes back in.
Actually, my plan was to head to Misato's place after visiting the Memorial to check if some hostile lifeform had already formed in the sink, but I just couldn't bring myself to go back there. Not after all the weird stuff that happened today. So, I take the bus back to the lake, still feeling weird and shaky. The warm smell of dinner hangs in the air when I enter the apartment.
"Hey," I murmur, as I wander into the kitchen. Shinji's by the stove, hunched over slightly, his shoulders pulled in tight as he stirs whatever's cooking. Suddenly I feel the weight of everything settle onto me as I flop onto the chair by the small kitchen table. My head sinks down onto my folded arms.
"Hey," he says back, short and simple, barely looking over his shoulder before turning back to the pot or pan or whatever.
I watch him for a while, quietly. There's something comforting in the way he moves, so focused and precise. The soft hiss of the burner, the warmth wrapping around me—it all makes me realize just how tired I am. My eyes start to droop, and I feel them closing, just for a moment.
It feels good to be here.
"Is something wrong?" Shinji's voice pulls me back. He's stopped cooking and is looking at me, concerned.
"No, it's just…" I hesitate, my voice muffled against my arms. "The day was weird."
"What happened?" His expression shifts, worry settling into his features. Great. Just what I didn't want. I want him to care, I really do, but right now I just want to stay like this a little longer. If Captain Leiss keeps her word and I get another chance—maybe a real one this time—what happens then? For now, it's just a test. It doesn't mean anything. Who knows if I can even sync again? And even if I do, I don't even have an Eva. But what if it works? What if they want me back? What will happen to this? I know it's temporary—those things always are and you should be realistic about it—but it's the only good thing that's come my way in so long. And I'm not ready to let it go just yet.
"Nothing… just… I don't know. I'll tell you tomorrow, okay?" I sink a little deeper into my arms, letting out a long sigh. My eyes flutter closed, half-lidded against the glow of the kitchen light. "Can I just stay here and watch for a while?"
There's a pause. I think he's going to ask me again, maybe push for an answer, but instead, he just nods. It's a small, shy nod like he's not sure if it's enough but doesn't want to bother me. "Sure," he says softly.
I don't even know where to start. Should I tell him about my daymare? I'm not even sure what that was. And tutor-girl? Well, I'll have to think that one through first. Something about her's just off and If she's really interested in helping Shinji she'll have to do better than to sneak around here like a freaking stalker. If she doesn't— Well what kind of friend would I be if I didn't protect him from such a blatant display of mediocrity?
Friends. I keep thinking that word, but… are we really friends? We spend so much time together, and yeah, we get along fine, but friends? To be honest I don't have a good idea of how people behave with their friends normally. In the pre-impact melodramas, they constantly pour their hearts out to each other but Shinji and I aren't like that at all.
Sometimes, when I hear him pace through the living room at night I join him, and then we just sit together and exist. We never talk about it afterward. It's like we both don't have a single clue on how to be real friends. Still, there is something when we are together like this. It's not like it was with Hikari, or anyone else. This is different. And it's scary because in these moments it doesn't feel impossible to share the really bad things with him. And once it starts… where does it end? I wonder if he feels the same way.
Slowly the sounds of the kitchen blur together lulling me into a hazy half-sleep. Somewhere far away I register the feeling of arms lifting me, cradling me like I'm something precious. It's so gentle and warm, I'm sure I must be dreaming. I nuzzle into the familiar scent without thinking, letting it pull me deeper into sleep.
AN: This was a rough one. Originally this was almost three chapters that flowed more naturally but it was sooooo slow. Well, now it drags and rushes at the same time so there's that. Anyway, thanks for reading.