(Anxiety)
It was not simply that I knew it was going to happen…
That, I had known all along, from the very start.
It was rather the knowledge that it was actively happening right now.
The wheels were turning in the night. Somewhere, in the far off distance, the dominoes were falling, one by one by one, inevitably proceeding at the same time as I went about by days, simultaneously driven forward by the same tick of the exact same cosmic clock of which we were all extensions.
The wick was as lit as it had ever been, and tragedy poised to strike, even if we could not yet say just which direction it was going to assail us from.
Here was the next song of the bell-tower, heralding the figurative hour before midnight:
The day for EVA Unit Three's activation experiment had been decided.
I recall tensing in apprehension when I first caught a glipmse of the date on the screen of my phone – it was the exact same day as the party, and of course, both Dr. Akagi and the Major would be required for seeing to it. With uncommon haste, I scrolled down to find anything that may look like a time, just to rip off the bandaid on whether my hopes would be dashed or not – perhaps it would be possible to postpone, but who could guarantee another day in these times?
But I found it soon and, at least for that moment, the contractions of my flurried heard smoothed themselves back out to their usual even pace – As things stood, I think there would be more than enough time for them to arrive from Matsushiro just in time.
This consideration in the timing might well have been a deliberate kindness courtesy of Major Katsuragi. I opted to let her know of my gratitude via text message and suggest that she and Dr. Akagi bring the Fourth with them once the experiment was concluded – they would need to drive him back to Neo Tokyo 3 anyways, and perhaps all this might serve as his formal introduction into the circle of pilots, once everyone could take a breath of relief after the activation.
If Suzuhara was to show up, I would have to thank him. If a new test pilot had not been selected and found amenable to cooperate with NERV's demands, the test pilot may well have been me, now that a proper production model was available to replace my prototype.
But it was not in the Commander's nature to leave behind something he knew to work in favor of an untested weapon, and besides… well. I am not sure if I should have felt sorry for Unit Zero, as it was unlikely that she would have faced more battles if sealed and kept in cryostasis.
Would she have been aware at all in that state?
I might have envied her, or rather felt some condolence for the infinite dreamstate that she would not attain.
Or that is, I might have.
Now that I consciously follow after the trail of that old, habitual thought, I don't actually think that it is true anymore.
At least right now, I think I find it much preferred to be living, moving and existing here than to be away from everything and everyone…
Though that thought, as well, questions itself when consciously examined, wriggles and shifts under the eye of awareness to reveal the tension that was bubbling away even underneath the golden rays of happiness, a harsher, newer terror which the hold hard frozen textures of my defenses had previously defended me from, before I took the risk of letting something else in:
I had experienced what it was to be happy now, and in a way, that was an even worse terror.
It is one thing to fear sorrow.
It is another to fear to lose the happiness that you had somehow gained against all odds –
And another still to fear the moment you would realize that you could never go back to the happiness you once had.
I had not tasted that last one yet, but the prospect hung over me at all times like a sharp bladed pendulum, sometimes there, and sometimes more in the background, but never wholly forgotten.
...I had yet to hear anything from the Second Child on whether she was planning to attend the party or not. After that last altercation, I was rather tending towards not expecting her to show up.
If there had even been a chance there, I probably missed it when I didn't take her invitation to Major Katsuragi's promotion party. If she perceived that as a slight, it made sense that she would respond by rejecting my invitation in turn.
I had not recognized the olive branch for what it was at the time, so the opportunity had passed – there might be just too much bad blood for it now.
Some things, it was just too late for at some point.
Once the window for it had closed, the universe would be settled on the path where it was probably never going to happen.
…
I used not to pay much heed to the many discussions that my classmates would go on to have day in, day out – at best, passing snippets might have become subject to indiscriminate curiosity, at worst, their many sounds and exclamations would have been a grating source of unwelcome of intrusion.
Most of the time, they were simply irrelevant, not in any way connected to myself and my duties.
But now, at least some voices were different.
I still remained at my seat, never went so far as to move over to where they were and become part of one of those little clusters that tended to form as the class filled up before first period.
I do not really think that I ever could have to be considered a full-fledged member of their little group, but I existed in their periphery at least.
My ears picked up on familiar voices, darted over to where the three boys had gathered around Aida-kun's desk. I knew them all now, so I was interested in what they might have to say, in continuing to assemble and complete the picture of them in my mind.
So far as I could tell, Aida-kun was airing some personal disappointments…. Concerning Major Katsuragi?
"I never would have thought that Misato-san could be so mean! I don't understand why she won't even consider me as EVA 03's pilot. I'm more motivated than anyone!"
...but EVA 03 already has a pilot. Wouldn't Aida-kun have been among the first to know?
I spotted Suzuhara sitting not so far from his usual group, but he looked somewhat out of it today.
Distracted, keeping his distance, tracing the panels on the ceiling with his eyes.
He barely seemed to be following the conversations of his friends, and Aida was, for once, too absorbed in his own gripes to really take notice of the uncharacteristic lack of energy.
"...they could at least use me a backup pilot, right Touji?"
But whatever was on Suzuhara's mind – and I could easily imagine what it would be – had complete possession of him for now:
"Hm? Sure…"
His atypical behavior may have been caught onto if the conversation had been left to keep simmering, but as it happened, much of the attention in their group and pretty much the entire room for that matter was soon monopolized by a sudden entrance – the classroom's sliding door was pushed aside brusquely in the service of an anger that would have found a much more satisfying outlet in being able to slam shut a western-style door.
With swift and noisy steps, the Second Child came marching in, bringing with her a dark cloud that filled all available corners like a miasma.
Her arrival was more or less noted by the entire class, much like the rotten, irascible mood that she brought with her.
Even so, Ikari-kun took it upon himself to show her concern: "Did something happen? You left before me, but you took longer to get here…"
She did not even deign to speak to him, coldly walking past him without even dignifying his inquiry with an answer. But while this may have been enough to shut down Ikari-kun, Suzuhara was not so easily deterred from firing back… it is well possible that his general state of distraction lead him to be the one person in this classroom who could have missed her unusual degree of malcontent distemper: "What gives? Is there not gonna be any soap opera drama today?"
It is also possible that he simply didn't care, his none-too exceptional patience all but exhausted by his own concerns.
Under normal circumstances, she might have answered this with some heckling of her own or some passing casual insult -
This time, she instantly slammed down her bag on her desk, with obvious hostility and clear violent intent, like it had taken the last of her self-control not to hurl it at his face.
"Maybe I just didn't want to see any of your stupid insufferable faces!"
And with this, she left, even quicker than she had arrived.
She grabbed her bag right off the desk and ran off, back through the door she had left ajar.
Even the noise of her steps did not take long to disappear off in this distance.
It wasn't just my impression this time, or even Hikari's opinion – the display had drawn many looks and stares. At this point I think that everyone in this classroom would have been in agreement that this was distinctly out of character for her…
Though the class representative displayed much more overt worry or concern compared to those who were mostly used to seeing the Second as an annoyance or an object of envy.
She wasted no time in addressing me with an inquiry, quieter and off to the side, probably finding me easier to approach than the boys in their cluster of three.
"...did something happen to her?"
"Another bad test score… among other things, probably."
I suspected that it was probably no coincidence that the pilot of unit two had exploded at Suzuhara in particular…
By now, it was clear to me that he hadn't told anyone yet.
Not Hikari, not Aida-kun, not even Ikari-kun himself.
That had been his decision, so I didn't wish to take it out of his hands. I knew well how much one may be tempted to cling to one's last small little freedom once NERV had taken possession of one's life.
But even ignorant of the further reasons she might have for even greater anguish, the Second Child'd rotten mood was sufficient in and of itself to tint the class representative's features with heavy concern.
"I know I really ought to scold Aida-kun for saying such reckless things and tell him how we should be grateful that we don't have to fight… but honestly, I'm actually starting to understand him.
Monsters are attacking our home. They are destroying our city and hurting people we care about…
I keep thinking, that maybe, if I could help out too, maybe then I would be able to make it easier on you and Asuka-san. All I can do is wait, watch and hope that everyone will come back alright.
It's frustrating. I feel so powerless – and ashamed, too, like I'm leaving all the difficult parts to someone else without taking responsibility..."
What could I say? Soon she would have yet another person to worry about.
I could give her no guarantees.
Even as someone closer to the epicenter, I did not actually feel like I had very much of an influence on what happens, but then what could I say to someone who has even less?
"You're doing everything you can," perhaps. "You are probably making a lot more of a difference than you think."
What could my words really do, when they couldn't explain away the truth?
I might have claimed that I would protect her, or even Suzuhara and the Second, and I was certainly going to try that.
But at the same time, I was really coming to understand just how difficult it is to protect anyone in the first place. Its hard to truly keep people safe, because even if they can be kept from physical harm (which is no small 'if'), they are still influenced by each other. Any harm done to one sent spiderweb cracks spreading to all of those they were connected to.
I could see why the Commander kept himself from getting attached, and why Ikari-kun had been so reluctant to get closer to others back when he first arrived.
To care is to put a bit of yourself into something that is not under control, that can be taken away at any moment – the love of something mortal could never exist without grief.
The Commander had probably tasted grief exactly once with the loss of his wife, and from that day onward he had spurned the love of mortal beings for eternal things like knowledge and music. There was little left for anybody else…
Yet even so, he had let down his guard against once – if it was deliberate at all, which now that I thought of it was actually rather unlikely.
He must have been snared against his will – And now the same was true for ikari-kun and me, for everyone in the intricate web of people that lay around us.
If any one of us were knocked over, they could pull the others right along with them into the abyss. Not necessarily, not always, not as long as there were enough of us left to cushion the ones closest to the loss with our support – networks can have the property of graceful degradation, after all.
But I could not really expect for Hikari or Ikari-kun to stand while all else around us falls.
I may be left standing untill the end, since I had no escape or recourse, but I understood that if that happened, I would stand alone.
...
Even without being told anything, Ikari-kun and Aida-kun soon began to suspect that there was something going on with Suzuhara.
Their ideas about possible causes may have been miles off, but they could scarcely contain their surprise when he left for the lunch break without them, and more out of character yet, without stopping by the cafeteria for snacks.
I suspect that he did not wish to hear any more talk about evangelion pilots.
Which lead me to doubt whether I was doing anything constructive in going looking for him – yet I had spotted him on the roof from one of the windows near the stairwell, and I wanted to…
I'm not entirely sure.
To do something, most of all.
My past attempts at giving comfort to my fellow pilots had been a mixed bag at best, so I was not certain what to even expect from approaching the Fourth Child, though I was hoping that the cause would not be as lost as it was with the Second.
I found leaning forward against the railing on the school roof, where one could look out at the city that stretched out before us.
However, I do not think that Suzuhara was looking out at anything at all.
I stopped in my tracks, still a respectful distance away from him.
I couldn't really think of anything to say to him.
Once again, I was made to confront that expressing myself or communicating matters beyond simple information was not among my strengths.
I hoped that at least might presence itself might count for something:
"Suzuhara-kun?"
He turned around just a little to ascertain who it was.
"Oh, hey Ayanami. If you're looking for Shinji, he's not here."
I wasn't looking for him, so I did not leave.
It did not take him long to piece together by purpose then: "I take it you've heard the news then? It looked like Soryu knows, too."
I made an affirmative noise in acknowledgment.
"That leaves Shinji as the only one who doesn't know…"
This, too I confirmed.
"Man, being worried over by you is going to take some getting used to!"
He said this in a joking tone, likely because to be sincere would have been somehow too heavy, too liable to crumble the image of strength he wanted to make at least some token effort to keep up… is was probably more to distract from this that the added another observation onto his words:
"Guess Shinji and you have been a good influence on each other."
"...I'm not sure I understand…"
"Well, you both really started coming out of your shells and having much more to do with the world around you ever since you met each other. No offense miss, but I wouldn't have taken either of you for that much of a caring or compassionate person when we first met.
I 'spose you both just needed someone to give you a little push – it's like the world has been missing out on your hidden dephts all this time."
"...that… that may well be, not that you say it."
"No doubt about it." he stated, good-naturedly, turning back to overlooking the city.
I could not really determine what was going to his head as he was trying to go to terms with his new situation, but I do not think that he wanted to talk about it anyway.
He was, however, perfectly content to let me keep him company for a bit, so I decided to stay there for a bit.
I didn't think that I needed to worry about our working relationship turning out antagonistic as in the case of the Second. If anything, I considered then that his addition might change the dynamics between us for the better. He might defuse tense situations in the future, or contribute a bit more initiative to our field deployments, and it could only help that he already had a good relationship with at least one other pilot… maybe two, if not yet to the same extent.
…
"So tomorrow you're going to have dinner party… with Ayanami… I'm so jealous, you lucky bastard!"
By the time I had noted my name being noticed and turned around, Ikari-kun and Aida-kun had already lost their balance in the process of whatever horsing around they had been engaged in, landing on the floor along with one unfortunate chair.
Even for recess time, this was rather above the typical noise level, so Hikari was felt contractually obliged to dutifully chide them to be more serious.
Once Ikari-kun had gathered himself up, and noticed me looking, his face swiftly turned a shade rather comparable to the paintjob of Unit Two, so I thought it best to simply turn my face back to the window.
My own cheeks may have been getting a bit pinkish as well.
No matter if it was no longer my first time hearing it, the idea that my presence or attention could be something worth envying still took some getting used to.
It was not so complicated in theory: A lot of people yearn for the presence of other people, therefore in being with them, you may be doing them a favor, rather than imposing a burden.
In theory, you could go to them and they might thank you for it.
In practice it was harder to internalize when it was incongruent with your experience, but, in knowing of it, one might, perhaps, begin to expect it, or at least, to be open to the possibility.
Was I not also grateful when Ikari-kun graced me with his glances?
...
At last, the little time that was left to us had crept to a close.
The sun was setting on the final day before the appointed time – a school day it was, where nothing especially remarkable happened.
The late orange sun fell through the windows, illuminating the mostly abandoned classroom with its characteristic tinted hue.
On one of the windowsills, the flowers that Hikari and I had planted looked like they were right about to bloom – that was mostly why I had lingered there.
At first I was just going to water them, since Hikari was busy with student council duties for today, but then I ended up just… looking at them, simply appreciating their existence.
Once, flowers had seemed all the same to me, but with these ones, I had observed the emergence of their every feature, not just naming the emergence of the different kinds of buds and leaves, but actually following the changes day by day, and it struck me, how this world that had once seemed so vast and empty to me might, from a certain point of view, as well appear as something that is plentiful – full of moments, of tiny things to observe, lessons to learn, meanings to derive.
These little flowers here were just a little snippet, just as the insects that could be heard chirping outside, now that the day was drawing to a close.
Outside in the yard, the last of the students could be seen filing out, and those too, had their stories.
I was meaning to stay until the announcement started prompting the last of us to leave, and I wondered who the person was that may have recorded that announcement once upon a while – or who the programmer had been, if it had been generated artificially.
I didn't think that anyone from our class was in the building anymore, or that at least, the classroom had been emptied, and it was, but then, light steps appeared again at the entrance.
I don't know if I had been seen still lingering here, still hoping for the half-light to linger but a little longer.
Ikari-kun stepped inside, as into a framed, golden paradise forever lost in time.
"Uh…"
"Yes? What is it?"
"Ah, nothing really…. Just… just be careful with the cooking, alright? Remember to wash the ingredients properly and all that…"
Somehow I think that he really meant to say something else there, and had decided against it.
But I had no way of knowing what it was.
Instead, I could only really respond to what was said...
"Why wouldn't I be careful? You and the others are going to eat it."
"Yeah, I know- it's just… that sometimes you don't really take care of yourself, so- eh…"
This alarmed me a little. I preferred not to bother with anything unnecessary and make do with the minimum, yes, but- the last result I wanted is to have it looked at as something to feel sorry for or pay attention to, to get fussed over or meddled with. I had just wanted to need as little as possible because nothing could ever stay.
...perhaps I would have to be more conscious of that.
I certainly did not want him to worry…
For his part, he did seem to prefer not to make me uncomfortable – he did not insist on having me answered, but just continued speaking, getting to the part that had been important to him: "...Nevermind. Actually I just really wanted to tell you that I'm really… really looking forward to it. I'm really, really happy, Ayanami. It's like I'm living in a waking dream.
If anyone had told me that anything like this could be possible at the beginning of this year, when I was still living with my teacher, I might have laughed in their face… or I might have thought that it was a cruel joke.
At times, I still can't quite believe that this is really my life… that I would have friends, and people that care about me and appreciate me… and now we're all going to have a party with a homecooked meal! I really really can't believe it.
I keep saying it to myself in the mirror again and again, like I still can't convince myself it's real… like there just has to be a catch somewhere, you know?
It's like I'm walking on clouds…
I keep telling it to myself and again so that I'll maybe start believing it..."
I didn't know what to say to him then.
Knowing what I knew, sensing the fragility of the artificial paradise that this city represented.
All I could do was to stand beside him by the window and quietly take hold of his hand once more.
It was all could do – to simply hold on for as long as it would be permitted to me.
Until all this that I should never have held began slipping through my fingers again, when this fluke inevitably corrected itself, the quantum fluctuation arising from nothingness, annihilating itself back into the void again, giving back the stray energy that it borrowing, neatly summing back up to zero.
But if he noticed me holding on just a little too tight, he must have thought that this, too as to be chalked up to some unreal impossible bliss.
Innocently as though he did it, he just had to go and deal me the fatal blow:
"You know, I think I finally understood why it is that I came here.
The reason was this, right here – I mean, I didn't know what awaited me here, or what might happen, but I was hoping that- that if I came here… I might be able to feel some sort of a soft touch… eventually… I never thought it would be possible, not really, but somehow, against all reason, I had this hope-"
If only I could know what it's like to have hope as well.
If I only I were remotely capable of entertaining such illusions, even for an instant.
We were standing here, hand in hand in the golden light, already as good as dead.
We didn't know it then, but this was to be the very last time that we were ever in this classroom together.
All that was to remain of it was preserved in a gold-drenched memory, already lacking spatial dimension as soon as we left, forever limited to the angles we had seen them from, as all other possible ways of looking at them had been lost to time.
Hand in hand we left, parting ways only when our respective paths home saw us boarding different trams – by then, the last of the light was almost gone.
We did not say that much more during that time.
I cannot say if it would have been superfluous and unnecessary or insurmountably impossible.
Maybe a little bit of both, changing by the moment.
Joy and grief seemed close together there, one always hiding in the shadow of the other, continuously being mixed up by the ever-present trembling of subliminal fear in anticipation of things to come.