Hope this isn't too late :)
Before you read further, please note: Although containing scenes of
adult and explicit nature, this is not meant to be a Lemon. Skipping
the naughty bit will actually detract somewhat from the story.
----===***===-----
-=/ Hold on... hold on to yourself... /=-
-=/For this is going to hurt like hell/=-
-Sarah McLachlan, 'Possession'
"I'm tired of fighting."
Silence, but for the susurrus of lapping fluid.
"I hate feeling my son's soul shattering within us both."
Nothing, no response, just the soft clicking of power relays.
"I miss my husband... I miss my body, and his."
No feeling but the cocooning warmth and binding constriction of
armor.
"I need more than this body to survive. Is this to be my future,
forever?"
No answer... no answer at all. Held fast in this cage, this pool,
this prison of flesh.
"This body is not me. I don't need it..."
From somewhere close, but nowhere visible, a cool wind blows. It
carries the scents of long-forgotten memories, the hint of escape.
"Can I... can I leave it? Simply let it go?"
Controlled but secure, here in this wretched body, or take the
offered escape to... what?
"I want to fly away from here, so much... Where will this take me?"
Still, no answer. The warmth, the clicking, the LCL like a womb all
around; pressure and nauseating, confining closeness that never lets
her think or feel or _be_ herself... these are here. Whatever is
_there_, must be better.
"...Oh, oh, I'm free!"
The relays continue to click, sending life-giving power to the body,
never knowing nor caring that the soul had fled.
----===***===-----
ICQKraftWerks
----===***===-----
Present
----===***===-----
'Possession'
----===***===-----
Based upon the characters and situations of
Shin Seiki Evangelion and Ranma Nibbunoichi
----===***===-----
All Rights Reserved
----===***===-----
Gendo Ikari spared a glance around the control center before
stepping inside; the door shushed to a close behind him, too quiet to
draw notice from the scurrying, harried crew. He was pleased to note
that Major Katsuragi had managed to reach the testing chamber before
him, despite having to race all the way from Ops; she seemed to be
taking charge already.
"Talk to me, Shinji-kun!" Misato stood in the center of the room,
commanding both a view of the pilot monitors and of the EVAs
themselves through the forward windows. All around her, the techs
were frantically yelling readings and statistics at each other; only
the Major, Lieutenant Ibuki, and Dr. Akagi were listening to the comm
relay. At a soft query from Maya, however, Ritsuko bent down over
her shoulder to consult quickly on a new display; Misato remained
focused on the pilot display, awaiting Shinji's reply.
Looking as though he was in shock, Shinji Ikari managed
to mutter, "It... she, she's gone... the EVA won't listen to me..."
"It'll be okay, Shinji-kun; we're trying to find out what's wrong in
here," Misato reassured him, "but we need your impressions. What can
you tell us?"
"Do you feel any sensations of tingling or bodily dislocation,
Shinji?" Ritsuko asked, straightening. She glanced from the
monitor to Maya's computer, frowning slightly.
"What seems to be the problem, Major Katsuragi?" Gendo inquired,
having moved silently to look over Misato's shoulder.
"Shinji's synch rates, normally the highest of any of the pilots',
have dropped to near zero. We're trying to determine the cause now,
Commander." Ritsuko answered over her shoulder.
Softly, Misato added, "Shinji's not taking it well, as you can see.
It's as if he slammed into a wall, or an absence where he expected a
welcome."
Gendo nodded almost imperceptibly; eyes hidden behind his glasses,
he watched the scrolling tell-tales flash across the secondary
synchronization display.
"It feels... so cold, now. Get... get me out, Misato. Get me out!"
"Stay calm, Shinji-kun! Are you ready to initialize the plug
ejection sequence, Maya?" At Maya's nod, Misato glanced back at
Gendo. "Commander?"
The reflected glow limning his glasses prevented her from knowing if
he'd even heard, apparently intent as he was on the screens above them
both. After a few moments, Gendo turned away.
"...I leave it to you, Major." Without a backward look, Ikari
swiftly paced the length of the room and disappeared through the
doorway. Behind him, the Test Center erupted into action again.
"Begin ejection sequence!"
"Ejection initiated! Ramping down all control systems, locking down
motor relays!"
"Roger! Core dump, diagnostics off-line..."
The rest was cut off as the door closed again, leaving Gendo to
travel with only his own echoing steps. Without conscious thought,
his path turned towards his office, while he tried to grasp the
meaning of the synch readings he'd just seen. A complete flatline...
not even a shred of synchronization. Pondering the possibilities,
Gendo found himself within his office. One hand on the desktop, he
leaned down to gently slide one drawer open. Within lay a plain wood
frame, face down. After a tiny pause, he carefully lifted the picture
and closed the drawer.
A few moments later, he was out the door again. On the desk, the
small plain frame held an old picture: A younger, clean-shaven Gendo
Ikari smiling beside a lovely young woman, short-haired and
pale-skinned, also smiling.
The door slid shut silently, and the lights dimmed to extinction.
----===***===-----
"Yes, I'll be sure to speak to her about it, Nakayukia-san," Kasumi
said, trying to be polite while her thoughts were elsewhere, "and
thank you very much."
"A meeting?" Although her tone was noncommittal, Kasumi's lips
twisted downward slightly. As her eyes focused out the tall, thin
foyer window beside the telephone's small antique stand, she caught
herself frowning, the telltale reflection shot through with sunstreaks
and shadows of the garden view beyond. She absently stroked around
her lips as she listened, half-hearing, to her daughter's homeroom
teacher gruffly explain the procedures for a parent-teacher
tete-a-tete.
"Very well, tomorrow it is. I'll be there at three-thirty, exactly.
Thank you for your help, Nakayukia-san." As if in a daze, Kasumi
placed the old-fashioned Bakelite receiver on its metal rests, idly
rubbing a finger around the dial's circumference, her mind far and far
away.
The sunlight, pressing through the nearby trees with a scent of
warmth and fertile soil, dappled the long white foyer. Each tall
window faced the afternoon sun, while the inner wall was sprayed with
spots of light and refracting beams from the glazed tiles of the
floor. Kasumi leaned against the wall, absorbing warmth and life as
she gazed at the gently breeze-blown trees. Through swaying branches
she could see the water, Lake Ashi of Hakone, deep dark mysterious
blue... hiding deep dark mysteries of deep dark time. Quirking her
lips ironically at her own maudlin poesy, Kasumi straightened, feeling
a twinge in one hip. Ah yes, the mysteries of deep, dark time indeed.
Kasumi sighed, brushed back a lock of hair mercifully free of gray,
picked up gloves she'd shed to answer the phone, and stepped to the
door. She slipped off her house-slippers and stepped into a pair of
well-worn sandals, taking a moment to pick up a clump of garden soil
she had inadvertently left on the gleaming tiles. Sometimes Kasumi
wondered if living in Tokyo hadn't been cleaner; of course, life
had been much more hectic, a trade-off she didn't really regret.
This house, home for more than sixteen years, was modern in every
way: from the airy glass-and-plascrete exterior in to the shining
fittings and automated systems that filled it, the house was designed
for comfort and economy. It still struck Kasumi how different it was
from the old dojo. As she walked alongside the west wall, following
a well-worn path through the grass to the back garden, she brushed
her left hand along the cool white plascrete extrusion, remembering
the smooth wood and plaster walls of her childhood. Her childhood
home which was now sleeping fitfully below eighty meters of cold bay
water, like the rest of Tokyo; she pushed the thought back. Bad
enough living above the lake, its dark waters flashing coldly;
no need to dwell on the past.
Cicadas droned from the shadowed trees along the edges of the
garden, growing louder and softer in waves as Kasumi picked her
way through the tall grass. She took a moment to enjoy the warmth
rising from the ground as she surveyed the, from a Tokyoite stand
point, gigantic plot that comprised her backyard and garden. Weeding
the near-three hundred square meter vegetable garden had taken her
most of the day, and there were still two rows of tomatoes to check
for little invaders before the afternoon sun dipped below the western
ridge. And dinner to cook, dishes to do, her daughter to upbraid...
Feeling her burgeoning good mood slip away again, Kasumi settled
lightly on the wooden gardening stool and pulled on the leather
gloves, gritting her teeth as she contemplated a small nettle just
pushing out of the fertile loam. Time to take out some aggression.
Kasumi bent to her work, thankful that, for a time, she could
forget the outside world, her wayward child, and all the troubles
she'd seen, to focus on rooting out all the bad little plants and
animals that sought to intrude into her garden. The wind blew
softly, carrying scents of water and humanity from across the lake,
scents that stirred memories which never quite surfaced from
the cool depths Kasumi had relegated them to. It was enough
to be, for a time, busy and useful.
-----===***===-----
"See you tomorrow! Bye, bye, later guys!" Chinatsu waved as the
battered red school bus rolled away in a puff of propane fumes and
dust, then turned away. Although the hillside was cooling down
as the sun began to set, it was still a hot, dusty kilometer's walk
up the hill, following a winding gravel access road around the hump
and along the treeline. Chinatsu Nukaya blew out a breath, adjusted
her backpack, and stepped away from the county road. She was glad
enough that they'd been living up in the hills when the Second Impact
wiped out half of everybody, but couldn't her parents have gotten
a place closer to town?
The hillside was awash with sunset colors, red-gold on the waving
green-yellow grass that grew waist-high all year. Chinatsu walked
a bit faster, eager to get home before dark. Although the
"neighborhood" included only herself, her mother, and an aging
professor lady whose house perched atop the hill, Chinatsu never
could shake the fear that dark brought. Perhaps _because_ of the
isolation, she could easily imagine being assailed by unseen
lurkers or wild animals, her cries of alarm flying unheard as she
was attacked.
"Calm down, jeeze. What a little kid you are, Chinatsu", she told
herself, but still hiked swiftly up the road. "Reasonably, nobody
would come up here, all the way in the middle of nowhere. There's
nothing to worry about!" Reason was all well and good, but hardly
comforted her. Come winter, the walk would be nearly unbearable,
and Chinatsu would resort to carrying a massive flashlight, or phoning
her mother for a ride home. Sixteen years old and still scared of the
dark, imagine!
Mom always said she understood, that it was okay, but Chinatsu was
sure she was ashamed of her childish daughter. Whenever Mom would
pick her up, she'd have that look in her eye... sad and distant.
Chinatsu sighed, slowing down a bit to kick at a rock. A blown-
down branch caught her eye, and she picked it up, swatting at
thistle pods and rocks as she walked. Come to think of it, Mom
almost always had that look in her eyes. Except when she was
mad, that was.
And today's news wasn't going to help anything, Chinatsu knew.
Her stomach tightened as she imagined facing her mother, telling
her about yet another in a string of truancies, another semester
of poor grades, a fight at lunch that had ended with her opponent
lying bleeding in the cafeteria. It didn't matter to her mother
who was at fault, and it certainly didn't matter that school was
absolute hell; her mother would blame her, as always.
The worst part wasn't Mom getting angry; it was the way her eyes
would just look through Chinatsu, as if trying to find her good parts
and coming up short. She wouldn't say anything, wouldn't need to;
that penetrating stare seemed to sum up everything. The evening
would be spent in silence, and in the morning life would resume, but
Chinatsu would invariably feel stretched tight by the tension they
never acknowledged. Chinatsu wondered if her Mom felt anything
like that; if so, it didn't show... except perhaps in her sad eyes.
-----===***===-----
The feeling of flight is exhilarating; the sensation of falling
away from her body, chilling. Without an up or down to refer to, all
movement becomes a weightless plummet into darkness, only the wind
providing a beacon.
Soon, though, the voices appear. From, for want of a better term,
ahead of her, a wash of babble like the crash of a wave far away.
Every second, it seems, they are louder, the source of the voices
spreading ahead. Within moments she will be among them, she knows,
and fears for herself then. She is one voiceless soul, and they are
a horde; surely the press of them is dangerous to her fragile, newly
liberated existence.
She bends her attention to the farthest edge of the noisy
maelstrom, sliding close to the unseen rush of crashing sound as
she accelerates, desperately avoiding falling into the voices. She
listens, though, and manages to pick out a voice or two from the
background. None of them are directed at her, nor, from the
few she listens to, at each other.
"He'll ask me soon, I know it, he's..."
"...the best cuts for myself, they'll never..."
"...die! Die like the ant you are, and your..."
"...I'm dying here, why did I ever agree to date this..."
"...She's dying here, god I'm messing this up, how..."
"...hot, so hot, take that off, oh, oh..."
"...wonder what that is, I'll ask daddy, he knows..."
The voices, thoughts if she's any judge, wash against her, warming
one side as she slips past. She dips closer, but flies back in a
flash as the heat becomes unbearable. Too many people, too much too
fast, it overwhelms her... she flies onward.
Before long, she feels the lethargy creeping over her. This flight
takes its toll on her, but she can't simply stop, the heat pulls at
her, current like an undertow drawing her towards the multitude of
unshielded minds. Yet, she is afraid to journey directly into the
darkness, from which she might return or not, not knowing if the wind
she felt will guide her back. An anchor, she thinks, an isolated mind
would be safe enough. She casts about in her flight, wending further
away from the hot mass she skirts. It must be the city, or more
likely a suburb, since her resting place was near to it.
Without any other reference, she turns to place the voices behind
her, then moves until she can barely hear them. The pull is still
there, she can feel it all over, but the guiding draft is absent.
Yes, it will be best to keep close, she decides. She turns back, but
slows when she realizes that a voice is passing swiftly by her.
Another follows, then a third, and she halts. She listens carefully,
feeling as though her breath is caught in her lungs.
"...not to forget..."
"...out of my way! Godda..."
"...limit? Oh, 100, is that all..."
"...to my mother's, she'll take us..."
"...I hate this commute. Hate it, ha..."
A road! Small, surely, for the voices are few and move lazily, but
it's so hard to determine exactly how fast or far they are. She
floats alongside the voices, feeling the city drift further away until
it no longer registers. Hopefully, its draw is diminished to the
point that she can rest, for she is so tired now. She slows, feeling
fatigue sweep through her in numbing waves; the voices pass by,
soothing in their warmth. She rests, but begins to feel cold creep
over her; can she not survive away from other minds, or a body? She
moves slowly forward, trying to stay close to the road though she can
no longer keep pace with the drivers.
Suddenly, she is burning! A mass of minds has swept past her,
pressing her with its flashing heat; it halts not far distant, a
painfully hot cacophony that draws her slowly in.
"No..."
She almost lacks the energy to move of her own will, now; she is
drained beyond endurance, but she knows that to succumb will destroy
her. She pushes tangentally, accelerating as much as she can while
avoiding the loudness. A single voice detaches as she moves swiftly
away, but she is too far by then to hear its words; she concentrates
ahead now, too weak to slow herself again.
Ahead, there is a small heat: the voice of one mind, like a banked
coal in a winter room, it glows its heat out. She gasps, feeling it
pull her in gently even as she turns towards it with her last will.
The numbness seeps through her, feeling towards her very core, but
just as it seems she will freeze to death, the heat before her drives
the chill away. Strength fills her slowly. After a few moments of
thankful drifting she moves forward, cautious of being burned again.
"...this won't do, come out of there, I see you, little root..."
She circles in slowly, using as little will as possible, trying to
determine what manner of person she has found. The flow of words is
calming, now that there is a single thread; like hearing her parents
rumble in bed when as a child she woke on lazy weekends.
"There... there, now... yes, come away, silly creature..."
She drifts languidly. The thoughts are so warm, so soothing.
"I'll finish soon, almost time for dinner... I wish she was happier.
I wish he was here. I miss him, I miss them, I want them back... oh,
my, you don't look at all well, let's give you some of this... almost
dark..."
"Hello?"
"...better gloves, what? Hearing things now, going senile, soon I'll
be as daft as my neighbor, on and on about cards and angels..."
"I can hear you... can you hear me?"
She's losing the will to move again, lulled by the lapping warmth
that flows into her from the other mind. Feeling herself drawn
closer, she doesn't try to stop now.
"I'm... I am... I can't quite..."
"...someone there? Can't see, maybe the trees, try calling out..."
"No, I'm *here*, but... I don't know... can't remember my name..."
Distracted by the attempt to communicate, she is alarmed to find
she's fallen so far inward, close enough, it feels, to touch. She
feebly struggles to fly away, but cannot draw enough strength to make
another escape. She cries out wordlessly as the heat and gravity pull
and stretch her, molding her around the other.
"I'm... oh god, I'm falling in!"
"What, what, my... can't feel my... body, what, who..."
"I'm falling into you! I'm..."
"I'm..."
The pain sweeps through her like wildfire, leaving a familiar
tingling warmth she has not felt in years; she can almost hear the
snap of realigning senses as she contracts tighter and tighter,
squeezing into a shape she seems to remember.
"nghAAAAAAAA!"
Her eyes snap open, blinded for a moment by signals she has long
since forgotten how to interpret; another wave of heat and dizziness
washes over her as she watches the fuzzily-drawn world simultaneously
gain focus and lose alignment. Brown replaces reddish hues; the heavy
scent of loam and cut grass fills her head, reminding her of places
she can no longer recall. She realizes that she's fallen, but can't
seem to cajole her limbs into moving.
"I'm..."
In a rush, she becomes concious of the air flowing into her lungs,
the cool sharp tang of falling night, and she knows she hasn't
breathed in a great while. The sound of her voice is unfamiliar,
almost buzzing through her.
"I... am..."
Finally she can take no more, fight though she may, and her lids
close off the dark soil, sliding a curtain over the green background.
"I'm... Yui... Ikari..."
-----===***===-----
Chinatsu stopped dead in her tracks, straining to hear, trying
desperately to slow her rapid breathing and listen past her pounding
heart. She'd heard a scream, chillingly echoing across the hills, and
it had sounded so much like...
"Mom!" She began running, chills of premonition shooting through
her guts as she puffed up the final few hundred meters to the crest of
the hill. She spared a second to check the lights in the Professor's
house; like she thought, the old lady was still abroad. She raced
down the short slope to the bend which followed the next hillock,
unable to see through the lowering dusk past the copse of firs that
hid her house from this side. "Please, please, please, not Mom, not
her, please...huh, ahuh, c'mon..."
Angrily brushing aside sticky fir branches, Chinatsu cut off the
road and leapt across the irrigation ditch, sprinting past the car
towards the rear of the house. Almost dinner, Mom would be in the
kitchen or....
"Mom!!" Chinatsu spotted her mother's still form, her white
gardening apron and the scarf in her hair easily visible against the
near-black dirt. She threw off her knapsack and dashed through the
garden, tearing up a swath of pea-vines and nearly pitching face-first
into the carrots before she scrambled to her mother's side.
The slow, shallow rise of her chest reassured Chinatsu that her
mother was breathing, but when she gently checked the hollow of her
mother's throat, she gasped at the heat radiating from the skin there.
"Mom, can you hear me?" Chinatsu cried, then bent close to listen for
a response. Shivering, her hands shaking, she grabbed her mother's
wrists and tried to lift the heavier woman's body into a fireman's
carry, as she'd been taught.
"House! House, turn on the back lights!" Chinatsu yelled at the
house minder, puffing from the run and the attempts to lift her
mother. "Mom's sick or something, what am I s'posed to do now?!"
She managed to wedge her shoulder into her mom's armpit, half-lifting
and half-dragging her towards the rear porch. The rear floods flicked
on with audible ticks, illuminating the garden as Chinatsu struggled
across the rows of vegetables with her mother's weight dragging her
down.
"Chinatsu-san, what is the nature of the problem?" The minder's
cool voice queried from the porch speakers. Chinatsu barely managed
to make the porch's edge before she began to drop her mother; with a
squeak, she twisted, trying to slow their fall as she lost her balance
and followed her mother down. Kasumi moaned a bit, her eyes
fluttering. Chinatsu leaned over her, taking one of her mom's warm
hands in her own and patting it gently.
"Mom? Wake up, Mom, please," she whispered. Her mother's face
was flushed, the pulse at her temple visible in the glare of the
floodlights; still, she was breathing at a steady, measured pace.
Wiping a trickle of sweat from her eyes, Chinatsu levered herself up,
swaying unsteadily before heading inside, to the kitchen.
"Chinatsu-san, what is the nature of the problem?" The minder asked
again, automatically illuminating the hallway and kitchen as she
dashed about, flinging open cupboards and the freezer door.
"Mom's got a high fever, she fainted and she won't wake up."
Chinatsu's hands trembled as she tilted a tray of icecubes over a
small sandwich bag; all of the cubes slid out at once, surprising her.
More than half clattered onto the counter or the floor, but she
ignored them, wrapping a towel around the baggy.
"I can call the local hospital and civil authorities in the case of
an emergency, Chinatsu-san. Is this an emergency?" Chinatsu's eyes
went wide as she realized that she'd forgotten to call the police or
anyone; one hand flew to her belt. Her phone was gone, probably
stripped off in the trees. She groaned, "Oh, fuck me..."
"Is this an emergency, Chinatsu-san? You must make a clear 'yes' or
'no' response."
"Yes, yes, you stupid fucking machine, it's an emergency! Call
everyone!" Wiping tears of frustration from her eyes, Chinatsu
slammed back into the hallway and out the door, backpedalling to grab
a couple of blankets from the hall closet. Outside, she carefully
pulled her mother's legs up onto the porch, then dithered; she
couldn't remember what to do, elevate the legs or the head. Cursing,
she lifted her mother's head, gently sliding a folded blanket into
position; the other blanket was placed over her body, then tucked in
at the sides. Chinatsu carefully placed the towel-wrapped ice on her
mother's forehead, wishing she'd payed more attention in first-aid
class.
She shivered, the cool evening wind drying the sweat of her
exertions. Inside, she could just hear the minder talking to a
dispatcher; she couldn't put the words she was hearing together,
though. Slowly stroking her mother's arm through the blanket,
Chinatsu stared down. Without hearing herself, she was whispering a
choked mantra.
"Come back, Mom, please come back, you have to come back..."
-----===***===-----
Misato sipped her coffee, blinking against the weariness that seemed
to collect like sand in her eyes. Three hours of tests, and no clue
as to the cause of the malfunction. Since Unit 01 had come crashing
out of the 12th angel, drenched in blood, Misato had feared something
like this might happen. Glancing out the test-center windows at the
floodlit Eva, she sighed tiredly.
"What are you, really?" she whispered.
The engineering crew was finishing a last series of diagnostics at
Unit 01's umbilical link, their reports so far all negative. The
engineers and Lt. Ibuki kept their voices low, competently relaying
messages and statistics through the bay intercom system. Misato found
the noise to be strangely lulling, and shook her head to ward away a
creeping drowsiness. She'd been staying up much too late recently,
between the angels and her own private investigations, and her coffee
was fast losing effectiveness.
Ritsuko stepped through the doors and came to stand beside Misato, a
cup of coffee in her own hand. She turned an exhuasted smile towards
the Major, then blew softly across her piping hot coffee. Misato's
nostrils flared as she inhaled the mild scent of French Vanilla, and
she winced as her stomach growled loudly.
"No progress, I see," Dr. Akagi observed softly, "but then I didn't
expect any. This is the work of Seele, I believe." Although she'd
said it quietly, Maya apparently heard, for she stumbled to a halt in
the middle of assigning oncoming engineers to the work crews. As Maya
tried to regain her composure, Misato nodded. She waited for Ritsuko
to continue, sipping slowly as her coffee cooled.
"I checked the Magi's records for all communications since the
incident with the twelfth angel; at approximately oh-one-twenty-seven
hours this morning, Seele began a routine data transmission and
records search from Nerv Germany. At the same time, they used that
official channel to open a direct link to one of the IO Processor
sub-computers in Test Bay 1."
Misato stiffened. "Surely not... the Personality Transfer OS?"
"Well, it's too soon to say what they were trying to accomplish, but
that would be a good hypothesis. If an encoded OS personality were
downloaded into the Eva unit, it might theoretically be possible to
program that unit from an outside source." Ritsuko took another sip,
then looked towards the bay. "At any rate, the Magi were able to
deactivate the incoming access within three seconds; it would take
much longer to download an entire personality engram."
"Could they have erased the original OS?" Misato looked sharply at
Ritsuko, realizing. "Did you suspect Seele would try this sort of
trick?"
"No, the original is still intact, we've triple-checked the main and
secondary copies. It's as though..." Ritsuko closed her eyes for a
second; when she reopened them, there was a spark of determination
burning within. Misato followed, intrigued, as Ritsuko leaned over
Maya's console and began typing rapidly. The main monitor flashed to
life with a bewildering graph of trace elements, and Ritsuko nearly
stepped on a bemused Misato as she backed away to get the full view of
the screen.
"'Elemental and Organic Composition of LCL'... what are you looking
for, Ritsuko?" Misato asked, smiling lightly at her friend's ability
to forget the outside world in her concentration. She frowned,
however, when she heard Maya gasp; her gaze jumped from the young
lieutenant, staring with shock at her senpai, to Dr. Akagi herself,
who stood deep in thought.
"It's nothing, Major. Just as I thought, the composition is
unchanged." Ritsuko shook her head and sighed deeply. "One more
question, and no new answers. This is frustrating."
"Well," Misato ground out, "I'm more frustrated by being kept in the
dark by everyone who knows the truth. As Operations Director, it's my
job to know what's going on!"
Ritsuko didn't seem to hear, she just peered up at the monitor.
Misato finally crushed her empty coffee cup in her hands and stomped
out, violently tossing the smashed paper into the disposal as she
passed.
"Major Katsuragi!" Maya called, nonplussed, but Ritsuko shook her
head, motioning Maya to return to her panel.
"We're finished for tonight anyhow, Maya. Call the work party off
the gantry and shut down here; I've got to make a full report to the
Commander before I get back to the lab." Ritsuko spared one last look
at the Eva before she, too, swept out of the test center. Remembering
the ferocity with which Unit 01 had torn its way through the last
angel sent a shiver across her skin, and she unknowingly echoed
Misato, asking, "What are you... really?"
-----===***===-----
"Enter."
Drawing her hand back in surprise, Ritsuko straightened her lab coat
before pulling open the massive, absolutely soundproof door to
Commander Ikari's office and stepping inside. Her shoes clattered
softly against the polished floor as she crossed the softly-glowing
sephiroth inlaid beneath her feet to stand before Ikari's desk. For a
change, he wasn't resting his elbows on the desk, nor steepling his
fingers in a sinister manner; tonight, Gendo Ikari was sitting back in
his deep upholstered chair, his glasses lying on the desk before him.
Other than a small picture frame, the glasses were the only item on
the desk; after massaging the bridge of his nose, Gendo slipped them
back on with one gloved hand.
"Report." His eyes bored into Ritsuko's, and for a moment
everything she'd thought to say flew from her mind like doves in a
gale. Even with the strain of the past few days gathering his brows
together, even with the edge to his voice that pierced her through, he
was such an arresting man. Ritsuko tried to gather her wits back, but
kept losing herself into those dark eyes.
"Dr. Akagi, do you have anything to report?" Gendo leaned forward,
and his eyes flashed angrily. With a small start, Ritsuko nodded.
"The intrusion this morning utilized a 7th-generation organic
computer, similar to the Magi, based at Nerv Germany. A trace of the
path used within the compound leaves no doubt: a second party was
involved."
"Someone initiated the link from inside NERV?"
"Most likely not, although it's possible. No, the link utilized a
secondary processor station at the test-umbilical control station,
which was activated at approximately 0114 hours. The control station
terminal was last logged into by..." She paused, unsure whether to
finish the sentence.
"Ryouji Kaji." Nodding once, decisively, Gendo leaned back. He
slowly turned until he faced the frame which stood near the end of the
desk. His face was pensive. "Of course, the monitors were disabled,
and no record of Kaji entering or exiting the building exist."
"Exactly, sir. If you weigh the one fact against the other, it
bears the markings of a setup." Ritsuko stole a glance at the frame,
but the picture within was obscured by the hazily reflected light.
"And Unit 01?" If anything, his face grew more grim, but otherwise
Gendo seemed entirely calm.
"As expected, there were no faults in the primary or the secondary
backups; technically, Eva Unit 01 is fully operational. Although
fully discharged during the Sea of Dirac incident, the batteries were
recharged completely by 1600 hours yesterday. No damage to the armor
or-"
"You know what I want to hear, Dr. Akagi." He still looked so
eerily calm, but in the second of quiet that fell, she could hear his
gloved left hand, the fabric sqeeking in protest, as it tensed into a
fist, then relaxed.
"There was... no change to the LCL composition. There is no reason
to believe that anything involving... her... should have changed."
For a moment Ritsuko almost thought the commander was going to leap
to his feet, so livid did he become. However, the tension eased
slowly from him, so slowly the leeching away of rage was nearly
invisible, and she made towards him, skirting the edge of the desk.
Just as she reached out a hand to turn his chair towards her, to
touch and give him comfort, his voice caught her, held her back.
"You have completed your report, Dr. Akagi. That is all." His
voice held that edge, the sharpness which had held her in thrall just
moments ago, but now it cut her.
"You... but I," She gasped, utterly surprised. Her hand was
stretched toward his shoulder from behind, the chair blocking her view
of him, but she could see his reflection in the glass of the picture
frame. Her throat tightened; his savage, sere anger was so blasting,
even in an imperfect mirror like that.
"That is _all_, Doctor!" He repeated, his hand clenched so tightly
the tendons showed clearly through his glove. Ritsuko took one step
back, and the reflection cleared; she could see the picture perfectly.
Gendo, there; Yui, there, smiling and holding him. How sweet.
"D, damn you," she choked, then rigidly strode across the
room. After a moment, the heavy door swung itself closed.
Gendo Ikari sagged, pulled off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes.
He let the glasses fall to the desk with a sharp rattle, his hand
resting beside the picture of himself and his wife... his dead wife.
Slowly, his head drooped to rest upon his arm, his body stirring
slowly with his breath. So silent was the room, the sound of his
tears dropping to the perfect floor rang clearly, marking the seconds
into the night.
-----===***===-----
Chinatsu knuckled her eyes, yawning as she watched the Hakone
Prefectural cruiser crunch slowly down the driveway, then closed the
front door and switched off the porch lights. After brushing her
teeth and changing for bed, she grabbed a pillow and blanket from her
bed and tottered sleepily down the hall to her mother's room.
The doctors had given Kasumi a clean bill of health; by the time
they'd arrived at the Nukaya household, she'd lost her feverish heat
and was close to waking. No sooner had the medics fitted the
sphygmomanometer to her arm but she was awake and apologizing, albiet
weakly, for not seeing them in. The cop had been a bit put out about
driving halfway around the lake for nothing, but had grudgingly agreed
that Chinatsu had done the right thing. Of course, he was also her
truancy officer, which didn't make Chinatsu feel any better about the
whole ordeal; all the events of the day had come crashing back down
like a smothering wave of icewater. While the EMTs had performed a
full battery of tests on her mother, Chinatsu had retired to her room,
trying to avoid facing her mother until they were alone.
The medics had left with the admonishment that Chinatsu was to keep
a close eye on her mother, and to call if any further emergencies
arose; Officer Sawara just told her not to get into any more trouble
tonight. She'd testily notified him that it wasn't her fault this
time, hating his stupid grin, knowing he was baiting her but unable to
stop the words.
Chinatsu sighed as she closed her mother's door behind her and
padded quietly towards the bed. Following the advice of the medics,
Kasumi had gone straight to bed after they left, leaving Chinatsu to
see the officer out. Now she was sleeping peacefully, the room unlit
except for a sliver of moonlight which slipped under the curtains of
the east-facing windows. And, of course, the cracked porcelain
nightlight in a sort of odd tiger/lion/starfish shape which had been
beside the night table for as long as Chinatsu could remember. It was
some kind of childhood remembrance from her mother's family, Chinatsu
thought, but she didn't know who had made it.
Settling into the comfortable easy chair beside the bed, Chinatsu
wrapped the blanket about herself and hugged the pillow to her chest.
Her mom's face was lit from one side by the soft pink glow of the
night-light, and it seemed to Chinatsu that she looked very beautiful.
The few lines that had been slowly etched around her eyes were
smoothed away in slumber, and the light lent a youthful blush to her
face. Chinatsu wondered idly what she would have done if her mother
had taken ill, gone to the hospital, or worse... Her mother's family
had been taken, all of them, in the floods of Second Impact, and
Chinatsu's father, a civil pilot, was drafted late in the global wars
that had swept the earth; he'd died when Chinatsu was only five. To
have only herself, Chinatsu thought, would be more than she could
bear.
Keeping watch over her mother, Chinatsu slowly drifted off.
-----===***===-----
Kasumi awoke hours before dawn, to the odd sensation of lethargic
energy coursing through her body. It was as though she knew she could
run a dozen kilometers easily, yet didn't have the strength, or the
will, to rise from bed. Tingling waves rolled across her from head to
toe, dizziness made the room seem to rapidly occilate around her very
center, and her skin was incredibly sensitive to the textures of her
bedding and pajamas. The sensations were like nothing she'd ever felt
before, though not actually uncomfortable either; simply unique.
Kasumi lay still and waited to drift back to sleep, and the buzzing
slowly leached away. The ceiling, dimly illuminated from below,
seemed unfamiliar.
Mere seconds later, it seemed, her alarm went off with a soft
chirping. Kasumi's hand reached fitfully after the giant chicken,
tapping carefully to avoid knocking the near-antique piece of plastic
off the nightstand. She managed to hit the 'off' button just moments
before it would have stopped being cute; at full squawk, that chicken
could be heard all through the house.
"Good morning, Mr. Chicken," Kasumi murmured. She stretched,
sitting up and shoving the covers off with her scissoring legs. She
felt more rested than she could honestly remember ever being, and
fairly jumped out of bed, throwing back the curtains with relish. The
morning sun was just cresting the eastern lip of the Hakone caldera,
sending brilliant red beams across the valley. Hearing a protesting
moan behind her, Kasumi called out more loudly, "And good morning to
you, Ms. Sleepyhead!"
"Mmmm... Mooommm! I thought sick people were s'posed to sleep in!"
Chinatsu groaned. She was curled up in the easy chair, her toes
peeking cutely from under the blanket she had tucked about herself.
Smiling, Kasumi rounded the bed and picked up the pillow which lay
beside the chair; she barely managed to restrain herself from tweaking
those toes, tousling her daughter's red-brown hair fondly instead.
When, predictably, Chinatsu curled up tighter and pulled the blanket
over her head to escape the onslaught, Kasumi lightly bopped her with
the pillow.
"I feel fine, thanks to you," Kasumi said, dropping the pillow in
Chinatsu's lap, "and now it's time to get up." She turned, tearing up
the bed with practiced ease and remaking it swiftly. In the chair,
Chinatsu made a half-hearted stab at rising, but ended up hugging the
pillow, moaning into it her distaste at early mornings. Normally
Kasumi didn't wake her daughter for another hour, after making
breakfast and putting together a lunchbox for her. For her part,
Chinatsu despised mornings, and felt that Saturday morning school was
an insult that the gods had directed specifically at her.
Finished with the bedding, Kasumi leaned over her daughter, then
dragged the girl up by her limp arms. Chinatsu, drooping like a
particularly unmotivated dandelion, made no move for the door. Her
hair stuck up in frizzy cloud of staticy strands, and her eyes
remained closed, stoicly locking out the sun's rays. Kasumi sighed,
dutifully exasperated, and bundled Chinatsu's pillow and blanket into
her daughter's unresisting grasp. She shoved the girl gently to the
door, opened it, and propelled her down the hall.
"Wash up and change, then come down for breakfast," she called after
her daughter's swaying form, "I want to talk to you about school."
Satisfied by Chinatsu's grunted response that she had been heard,
Kasumi closed her door. From down the hall, she detected the click of
the bathroom door latching, followed soon after by the hum of the
shower. Whistling lightly, Kasumi slid her window open, then delved
into her closet for suitably warm morning clothes; the air was brisk
today, hinting at fall's coming chill. She traded her pajamas for
comfortable sweats and thick socks, nodded as she heard Chinatsu still
in the shower, and picked up her favorite brush and a hair band from
her vanity.
Efficiently brushing her hair back, she blinked at her reflection in
the wall mirror. Something was strange... turning her face this way
and that, she felt a vague disjointedness - a sort of tingling
expectation of something - and tried to discern what had brought it
on. Her appearance was the same as it had been yesterday: her hair,
thick and brown, hung past her shoulders; her eyes were a matching
brown, with thick lashes; her face was mostly unlined, though her 43
years were beginning to show around her mouth and eyes as thin
creases. She pursed her lips, still feeling that sense of
displacement. Essaying a brief smile, an odd sensation flowed through
her.
In her mind, the eyes of her reflection slid fractionally further
apart, tilting slighty, and her lips thinned a bit. The effect was so
stunningly real, Kasumi gasped. Shaking her head left her dizzy, and
when she looked again, the image was gone, only the fading impression
of pale skin and kind eyes remaining. Kasumi stood, wavering slightly
as mild nauseau gripped her. Obviously, whatever had caused her
collapse had yet to run its complete course; Kasumi resolved to take
things easy today. Hearing the shower shut off, she nudged her feet
into house slippers and carefully stepped down the stairs. Aside from
the strangest sensation that she had _grown_ a few centimeters, Kasumi
felt fine again. The fit, or whatever it was, had passed. Inhaling
deeply as she headed into the kitchen, she reflected that she actually
felt quite good... all things considered.
By the time Chinatsu trudged down the stairs, Kasumi had just
finished preparing breakfast and was patting rice balls for the bento
she customarily prepared for her daughter's lunch. Chinatsu
carelessly tossed her book-bag onto a neighboring chair, slumping into
her usual seat. Her face took on a determined set; she adjusted her
school vest fitfully, opening her mouth several times. Just as she
began to protest her innocence, denying any wrongdoing, she noticed
that Kasumi had been patting the same rice ball for the last five
minutes, and subsided glumly.
Kasumi was started out of an her reverie by a soft tapping. She
found that she had been idly turning a sticky rice ball in her hand
for some time, lost in the texture. She turned, saw that Chinatsu was
tapping her glass with a spoon while staring forlornly into the sunlit
living room. Kasumi quickly wiped off her hands, then pulled their
plates from the oven. After placing a plate of bacon and eggs, along
with a serving of rice, on the table for each of them, Kasumi poured
juice for Chinatsu and coffee for herself, silently wondering what had
come over her.
The displaced feeling had crept over her again, as she'd finished
cooking breakfast: all of a sudden, her senses had become incredibly
active. The cooling, tacky moistness of rice had become a sensually
intriguing sensation, when in fact it was as familiar to Kasumi as
breathing. She had been making rice for bentos since years before
Chinatsu was born, yet this morning... it was hard for her to shake
the feeling that she was farther from recovery than she had originally
estimated. Her mind was wandering, following odd tangents far afield,
and the recurrence of her oddly disjointed sensations was troubling.
Chinatsu picked distraughtly at her eggs, glancing at her mother
every other minute with growing unease. It wasn't unusual for a
morning to begin with silence; whenever she was about to lecture her
daughter for some misbehaviour, Kasumi would become quieter than
usual, a knotting of her placid brows the only indication of a
simmering anger. Sneaking another look as she sipped the icy orange
juice, Chinatsu decided that this morning was different. Her mother
was distracted, thinking; there was something bothering her besides
her daughter's truancy.
Just as Chinatsu began to relax, thinking she would escape the usual
talking-to, Kasumi roused herself. Her eyes fixed on her daughter's,
and the grim set to Kasumi's mouth left no doubt in the girl's mind:
she sighed, knowing the inevitable had simply been delayed.
"I received a telephone call from your homeroom teacher yesterday,"
Kasumi began, primly dabbing a napkin around her mouth, "about your
grades. Among other things. Is there anything you feel you should
tell me?"
Feeling another sigh building in her chest, Chinatsu tried to
marshall her arguments. 'It wasn't my fault, I was defending us, I
hate school, they hate me...' She released a measure of her pent-up
frustration in a puff, then simply asked, "What do you want to know,
Mom?"
"I just want to know... is anything wrong?"
Chinatsu's lips twisted into a sardonic grimace as she stared at her
plate. "Do you really want to know? I mean, you've never asked
before, about my side of the story." She began rhythmically stabbing
her rice with her chopsticks, feeling resentment that she had harbored
for years beginning to well up.
"That's not..." Kasumi began, but subsided. She was feeling odd
again, her head beginning to pound.
"Yeah, Mom, that _is_ true. I mean, you always tell me not to get
into trouble, not to let people get to me, to 'do well in school, for
the sake of my future', but you never listen to my side!" Chinatsu
felt the hot prickling of tears, but refused, absolutely _refused_, to
let them come. "So I get into a little trouble at school; so what?!
You said your entire family used to get into fights every day, it's
not the end of the world! And I hate to tell you, I'm not the most
popular kid at school, either."
Kasumi shook her head, which didn't help any. "You have friends,
don't you? At school, isn't there anybody..." She waved one hand
vaguely, feeling the situation slip out of her grasp. She just wanted
her daughter to get along, to survive, couldn't she see that? Her
other hand pressed to her temple, trying to relieve the pressure
building inside.
"I've got some buddies; who do you think I cut school with?"
Chinatsu smiled tightly, adding, "but I don't cut as often as I could.
They skip class and take the mono over to Tokyo-2 almost every day; I
just miss history every now and then, big deal!" She glanced out the
window, feeling cold even in the heated air. "Most of the kids hate
me... us."
"What are you talking about?" Kasumi groaned. Her head was killing
her! Both hands massaged fitfully at her head, but she tried
desperately to keep her eyes from shutting. She'd never heard any of
this, none of this bitterness or sorrow, had simply assumed <never
assume> assumed that the idyllic high school days she herself had
enjoyed were similar to her daughter's. Why hadn't she asked?
"They know Dad was in the military! They know you go down there to
the city and help out at the Veteran's office! Everybody hates the
wars, and this thing with Nerv; it all just comes down on me because
I'm convenient! I get it from both sides, no matter what I say!"
Chinatsu looked up, finally, and let out a surprised, "Huh!" as she
realized that her mother was in real pain.
With her eyes finally shut, Kasumi tried to ignore the pounding
behind her skull. "And so you... you, what? You skip classes and get
into fights because they make you angry?" She grated, only half
listening to the words coming out of her mouth. Remain calm, remain
<rational> reasonable, keep smiling, you'll get through it,
Kasumi-chan, just don't let them get to you...
"No! They pick the fights!" Chinatsu looked away, damned if she
was going to show any concern for her mother. "I just finish 'em. I
try to avoid it, that's why I cut classes! I hate the military too, I
hate Nerv! They don't listen to me, though, so I'm forced to..."
Suddenly, the bubble behind Kasumi's eyes popped, rushed out through
her body and filled her with a dancing heat. "You're forced to what?!
Dammit, are you trying to tell me you're forced to piss away your
education because you can't figure out how to get around a few
bullies?!" Kasumi's eyes flew open, and she fixed her daughter in her
gaze as though she meant to pierce the girl with thought alone. "I
know you're smart, and resourceful; use the brains you were born
with!" That heat, so filling, so satisfying, it swept through her,
set her ablaze, and she leaned forward, teeth clenched. She would be
damned if she showed concern for such a <helpless> selfish girl!
"You will go to school, you will complete your classwork, you will
_not_ engage in martial-arts exhibitions with your compatriots!"
Seeing the sheer shock in Chinatsu's face, Kasumi began to feel the
flames cool; she was more than a little ashamed that she had yelled at
her daughter in such a <righteous> unladylike fashion. Clearing her
throat, she continued, trying to contain the flashes of warmth that
flickered through her. "If you have any more trouble in school,
please tell me right away; I'll try to help you work through them.
How are you doing with your homework?"
"I-I'm..." Chinatsu stuttered. She had never witnessed her mother
so focused, or so downright _pissed_, as she had just been. Shivers
coursed through her, as cold sweat dripped down her back. "I'm...
behind, some... it's math, but..." She trailed off as Kasumi's face
took a far-away mein.
Kasumi rifled quickly through her long disused mathematics skills.
She felt reasonably able in biology and anatomy, algebra, <physics,
programming, tensor calculus and non-euclidian geometry>, and, of
course, home economics; she nodded doubtfully, but smiled towards her
daughter. "Why don't we work on it together, tonight, and we'll talk
about some things." That heated release had left Kasumi feeling
giddy; she smiled widely as she began gathering up used dishes.
Nodding cautiously herself, Chinatsu stuffed a last mouthful of rice
past her lips, then carried her dishes to the sink. Her heart had
slowed somewhat, but it still felt as though she had just finished a
100 meter sprint. When she checked the time, her wrist shook
slightly. She managed to focus, then realized that she had only a few
minutes before the bus would stop at the end of their road. She
muttered a mild curse to herself, grabbed her bag, and ran to the door
to pry her shoes on. Kasumi glanced up from the dishes, wiped her
hands as she checked the stove clock.
"I'll give you a ride," she called, digging car keys and license out
of her purse. "It wouldn't do to lecture you about your school
performance, and then make you late myself, after all." She shrugged
on a light coat, stepping into her sandals at the same time. She was
forced to hold the keys and license in her mouth, and she smiled
mournfully at Chinatsu as she struggled into her jacket. Thankfully,
this earned a small smile from her daughter, and they dashed to the
car grinning.
Kasumi punched the reverse button and stomped on the speed control,
her heart racing as the little three-wheeled electric whipped around
under her control. She was just rolling out when a loud, plastic
crunch came from the right side. She turned to Chinatsu, who turned
back just as one hand flew to her belt; they both groaned in dismay.
Kasumi mustered a reassuring smile.
"I have to go in to Tokyo-3 for a conference with Nakayukia-sensei
later today, so I'll get a new phone for you then. Provided, of
course," she amended, "that you concentrate on your schoolwork! If
your standing doesn't improve, I'll take it back. Agreed?"
Grudgingly, Chinatsu nodded; she didn't like the idea, but it was
better than trying to get by with no phone. She brightened
considerably when she realized that her phone-list was stored on her
terminal, as a back-up against just such an occurance. A new phone
would be nice, she thought, and sat back as Kasumi raced down the road
to the hill.
"Are you feeling alright, Mom?" she asked nonchalantly, then
screeched and grabbed for the safety bar as Kasumi skidded to a
sideways halt at the end of the gravel drive. "Mom!"
"Ah, that's fun!" Kasumi laughed, pleased that she hadn't lost her
knack. She had often done that with her husband, enjoying the feeling
of control and power. She grinned, realizing what she was feeling: it
was as though she had dropped years of inhibition, returning to the
excited days when she had been newly wed. Strange that it would come
so soon after a fainting spell; perhaps she was fevered. Oh, well,
she thought, at least it was invigorating!
While Chinatsu pried sheet-white fingers from the safety bar, Kasumi
touched her cool fingers to her forehead, but didn't feel any unusual
heat. Strange. Hot flashes, giddiness, dizzy and prone to flights of
temper... she sighed, feeling her age again. It was about that time
in her life, she realized, although she'd been regular as the moon for
years; she decided to make an appointment with her doctor while she
was in town. The slamming door shook Kasumi from her thoughts, and
she saw that the bus had arrived. Chinatsu waved; she waved back,
watching the bus door close and the boxy red vehicle lumber away.
Then Kasumi peeled out, zooming up the hill and over the crest,
yelping as her stomach dropped out at the top.
-----===***===-----
Still grinning, Kasumi jogged lightly up the stairs and into her
room. That extra sensitivity was still with her; she could feel
everything much more acutely, and what she felt like right at that
moment was a shower. She was still grimy from working in the garden
all day yesterday, a problem she intended to solve immediately. She
shucked off her sweats, grabbing a towel and kicking the door shut
with one heel. On the way into the bathroom, she stopped in front of
the mirror again, critically appraising herself.
By squinting her eyes, Kasumi was able to draw up that wavering,
disconcerting other-form against her reflection. Where Kasumi herself
was fairly tall, she saw a shorter version, thinner and less rounded.
She laughed gently, chiding herself for trying to see her teenaged
body in the mirror. Paler skin, shorter hair... those oddly wide,
soft eyes again, looking back... Kasumi shivered. She called to the
minder, asking for the usual heat and pressure. The shower spat twice
before pouring out a tantalizing jet of hot water, cloaking the master
bath in billows of steam.
With a shake of her head, Kasumi turned away from the mirror. She
was comfortable in this old body, she decided; no need to wish for
past days. With only a modicum of swelling and drooping, her body
remained much as it had been when she married, and she was content
with that. She did, however, wish that she could have seen her
sisters grow to adulthood, to families and children of their own.
Although, she thought wryly, Chinatsu was very similar to her aunts in
many ways; that girl was just as surly in the mornings as Nabiki had
ever been, and her temper...
Kasumi sighed, stepping into the shower, and sighed again as the
minder switched from steady pressure to a massaging pulse. She
groaned, massaging muscles that had tightened as she lay in the
garden. Her skin was still quite sensitive, though the level of
sensitivity seemed to be ebbing; she luxuriated in the hot spray. When
the shower rotated through its preprogrammed set, changing to a strong
steady stream, Kasumi grabbed her shampoo from a cubbyhole and washed
her long hair.
It was amazing how much she could feel today, she thought, massaging
the foamy shampoo into her scalp. Every centimeter of skin felt
alive, seperately aware but combining into a whole choir, singing each
texture, pressure, or touch as joyously as angels. Washing the
soap from her silky hair, Kasumi simply turned around beneath the
pounding wash. The pressure rolled over her, relaxing her, heating
her; she rubbed her hands slowly down her arms, revelling in the
slickness of her skin and the fluidity of her flexing muscles.
She began to feel overheated, although the shower temperature was
carefully regulated by the minder; rather than asking the shower to
turn itself down, though, she stretched her arms up and leaned fully
against the cool tiles covering the side wall. The contrast of hot,
sweet water and cool, hard tile was exquisite; she turned about,
touching as much of her to the tile as possible. Her breath began to
come more shallowly, and Kasumi reluctantly pushed herself from the
wall, resolving to wash up quickly before she had another spell.
Taking a washing cloth from the bar on the door, Kasumi squirted a
generous dollop of liquid soap across it, then began to lather her
neck and shoulders. Trailing the cloth down her left arm caused her
right to brush lightly across her breasts, and Kasumi jerked, groaned,
bit her lip. She tried to catch her breath, but nearly aspirated the
shower stream. Backing up only put her torso directly in the stream;
she shuddered, throwing out her arms to steady herself, as tremors
raced through her legs.
"Ahhh," she gasped, amazed at the swiftness with which the heat
rolled through her then. It rose within her head and swept through
her body like a flood of lava, reducing her skin to its normal
sensitivity, but lighting a fire all through her limbs and belly.
Fitfully, Kasumi pressed the washcloth against her chest, trying to
ignore the heat. When she felt the cloth slide along her swollen
breasts, though, she tossed aside all thoughts of continuing with her
normal shower routine. The heat flowed slowly through her, reminding
her of passions she rarely released.
She stepped directly into the shower stream, using both hands to
wipe the remaining soap down from her shoulders and down the slope of
her breasts. She breathed deeply as her fingers slowly slipped across
her nipples, splaying them as the water washed the suds away, cupping
her breasts as her husband had done. She rarely indulged herself in
this way, but would often fantasize about the times she had lain with
her husband when she did; it was harmless, she thought, and enjoyable.
Almost without her conscious will, Kasumi's hands squeezed together,
fingers pinching her hardening nipples between her knuckles. The
boiling, rolling heat within her spread, making her limbs tingle
slightly. She gently released her breasts and took down the body soap
again, cupping a handful of it to her chest. She ran her hands
swiftly across her entire chest, then down the sides of her breasts,
her sides, over her hips. Bringing them up slowly, she lathered her
stomach, her back and buttocks, enjoying immensely the slick, hot
touch of her hands on her own smooth skin.
The bubbly soap washed slowly down her heaving chest and over her
gently rounded stomach, collecting at the top of her sparse pubic
hair. Kasumi, eyes closed in rememebrance of that first,
heartwarmingly tender night with her husband, followed the suds
slowly with her hands. Motoyuki Nukaya had been a large, solid man,
but his massive hands had touched her so very gently, always. Kasumi
gently washed the suds from herself, cupping her hand to let the hot
spray pool at her mound, a lovely warmth that spread inward to meet
her inner heat.
The shower switched suddenly to a low-level, slowly cycling pulse,
opening the spray to cover her entire body with soft jets. Kasumi
leaned her head back, her left hand dragging fingernails slowly up to
her right breast, the other slowly and teasingly massaging downward.
That night, their first <last> night, he had been so very tender.
They had kissed for what seemed like hours, she recalled, before they
had worked up the nerve for soft petting. His <dark, penetrating>
soft eyes had danced with love, with desire... Kasumi stropped one
finger across her labia, squeezing her still-soapy breast with the
other hand.
The heat inside spread quickly back up through her chest and into
her head, reminding her even more of that slow, gentle night. His
huge <thin, supple> gentle hands had slowly teased her to such an
aroused state, she had nearly torn his yukata off in desperation.
Later, she'd been almost shocked as he'd kissed down her body, his
lips burning so pleasurably... Kasumi leaned, gasping, against the
wall as her finger dipped just inside her, pressing down with her hand
as he had once done.
She could almost see him, his <lanky, angular, smooth> muscular,
wide shoulders, the <crooked, delighted> gentle, understanding <grin>
smile, just before he <stretched out his> pursed his <scalding tongue>
soft lips, <slowly, tenderly> softly, sweetly <spreading, licking>
sucking at her, until she had cried out, amazed at the explosion of
lassitude, pleasure, <heat, warmth, love>, his look of pleasure for
her, his heated body against her own. Rubbing her soap-slicked palm
in a slow circle, Kasumi pressed her nipple into her breast, her
pounding head lolling against the tiles while her right hand rotated
quickly over her slippery lips and clitoris.
God, she missed his touch. All these years, all this time, she
missed him still. His smooth cheeks to kiss, <his slim frame to curl
against hers>, the smell of him, fresh from a shower <his bristly
goatee, grown after they> in their new house <joined the Project> that
wasn't right, he was clean <stopped shaving> shaven, wasn't he?
Kasumi couldn't remember now, her breath heaving, fingers flying, her
legs spreading, the heat about to burst again, hadn't he looked like
this <this> no <yes> he was <he is> he <He is> was <he is he is he is>
dark? Flashing eyes, glasses? The picture in her mind, always
associated with Husband, with Love, with Pleasure and Passion
and Home and a myriad other emotions, worn with time into a sketch of
a man, it... wavered, compacted. Dark, warm eyes peered up from
between her legs, darting with anticipation, moved down... <moved down
and touched her> oh gods oh gods it felt <entirely wonderful> so very
good!
Kasumi slowly collapsed, her hand tightly clamped between her
shaking thighs, breasts suddenly oversensitive, her mouth gaping,
breath coming in ragged gasps. Inside her, within her core, the heat
exploded, washed her in wave after wave of the most incredible,
exquisite pleasure. Her hips rocked involuntarily, stopping her breath
and sending aftershocks throughout her body. Before her closed eyes,
she could see him: her husband, her lover, companion, father of their
child. His face was thin, framed in a short, scruffy beard she'd
always tolerated but never liked, except for certain amorous occasions
when he'd tease her... <tease her with it, touching her with it like a
feather, all over, sending chills up her back and out like a diagram
of her entire nervous system> and he said to her, "I will always be
with you," kissing her fervently. Her hands moved of their own
volition, spreading the heat again, harder, faster...
"Gah...haaah..."
"I will always be with you, no matter what may happen tomorrow..."
"Oh..."
"...Yui."
"God, nnf, gaAAH!"
-----===***===-----
"Mama, Mama!" Her child was shouting, rousing her.
"Don't bother your mother, now." Ah, the rumble of her husband's
gentle voice.
Kasumi shifted slightly, enjoying the the langorous heat of the
late-morning sun. Turning to put her back to the sunlight, she pulled
gently at the covers and sighed. With a smile spreading across her
face, she snuggled into the blankets, waiting.
"Mama, wake up, wake up!"
Feeling a small weight wriggle across the bed, Kasumi held her
breath, coiled herself, waited for the perfect moment. As her son
leaned forward slowly to shake her shoulder, she shouted and leapt up,
throwing the covers off quickly. She wrapped the blankets around the
giggling child, wrestling the squirmy bundle around until a tousled
head popped out at one end, red-cheeked and laughing.
"Good morning, Shin-chan!" In the soft, warm light, the color of
their bedroom was muted to a comfortable glow; it was an old place, an
apartment due for renovation, but it was close to the project and
large enough for three. Shinji adored the balconies which overlooked
Tokyo-2 and the ocean, and seemed very happy here. Kasumi sighed,
pulling her son back into a hug.
"Goo' morning, Mama," he murmered, snuggling into her arms. Kasumi
wrapped the blankets about themselves, and called sleepily into the
kitchen, "Are you working again today, Gen-chan?"
"I want to take a last run through the synchronization protocols
with Dr. Akagi," he said, carrying a tray of steaming food
precariously perched on one arm. He gently laid his jacket, hung
across his other arm, on the vanity chair, then lowered the tray onto
her lap while she arranged her pillows. Shinji nestled into her side,
his eyes shining in the slanting sunbeams. Everything had such a
perfect, soft glow about it, Kasumi drifted in warmth, giddily
content.
Gendou settled on the edge of the bed, looking oddly jocular without
his severely-cut coat over the turtleneck shirt he usually wore to
work. He grinned, making that deplorable scruffy black fringe around
his chin bristle; despite herself, Kasumi ran her fingers lightly
through the dark hairs, finding it endearing now. She smiled easily
when he captured her hand in his and softly kissed her palm, then
released her.
"Tomorrow," she murmured; they shared an understanding look. So
much time and effort, coming at last to a point from which the end was
visible. The thought sent excited flutters racing through Kasumi's
belly. Gendou nodded, then leaned down to kiss her cheek.
"I have a small celebration planned for tonight, dear. Just
ourselves; I've secured a sitter for the evening," he breathed.
Kasumi blushed, her lips twitching. Shinji leaned forward, trying
to pick up the hot earthenware mug of green tea which sat on the
swaying tray, and she was able to put off responding for a moment, but
her blush remained after moving the cup out of reach. She glanced up
from under her lashes, simply drinking in the sight of the man who
made up half of everything she called home in small, sweet sips.
"How would you like to come with Mama and Papa to work tomorrow,
Shin-chan?" She asked, ruffling Shinji's hair playfully. Shinji
looked up, his eyes swinging from his father to his mother, inquiring.
"Tomorrow, your mother and I will be conducting very important work,
Shinji," Gendou explained warmly, "Would you like to join us?"
Solemnly, the boy nodded once, then burrowed into his mother's side
again. Love and pride swelled in Kasumi, and she turned to look up at
her husband, whose eyes danced proudly, happily, at his son and wife.
She reached out to him with one hand; he held it in his own and leaned
forward. The sunlight dazzled her, and she closed her eyes, eagerly
awaiting his kiss, as his shadow fell over her, blocking the warming
sun's rays.
-----===***===-----
Kasumi woke suddenly, jerking as she felt the chill water dribble
down her body. She was half-kneeling, half leaning against the side
of the shower; her skin tightened from the cold of the tiles, and she
began to shiver. Barely able to speak over her chattering teeth,
Kasumi croaked through a throat gone dry for the minder's attention.
Ordering a soft spray, she was rewarded with a momentary jet of cold
water, then a steaming spray that began to erase the chill in her
skin.
After one attempt at standing failed, Kasumi unclenched her arms
from around herself. The fingers that stilled curled against her sex
were sticky; she winced as the tender skin was exposed to a torrent of
steaming water. She crawled directly under the spray, managing to
pull herself up by the hand towel bar, and stood shivering in the
blessed heat until she could move without feeling painfully chilled.
Kasumi turned and turned, warming every inch of her body, gingerly
washing her hands and rinsing away the last of the soap residue.
She could still see that face... neither old nor especially young,
she could willingly call up instances of rage, or soft smiles, or
giddy success that made the maleable features move so appealingly, yet
she couldn't place a name to that face, or recall where she might have
seen it. As she tried to recall the dreamlike experience, that
idyllic morning, she felt more and more of it slipping away like
rushing water; only his smile, his eyes, and the feel of his hands
remained. Kasumi shivered again, though she was well-warmed; these
visions and spells were no longer easily dismissable as the aftermath
of a fever.
Suddenly, the shower cut off, and Kasumi realized guiltily that she
had been standing in the hot spray for nearly thirty minutes, lost in
uncomfortable contemplation. Sliding open the shower door, she asked
the minder to let her know when her appointment was an hour away. She
drew a large terry towel around her, trying to recall the chores she
had decided would need the most attention. The minder beeped once,
then again, indicating an error.
"That is not possible. Current time to 1530 appointment: 38
minutes." The calm voice of the minder drawled; surprised, Kasumi
half-turned towards the minder plate and caught her knee a hard blow
against the cabinet. Groaning, she reflexively bent over to grasp the
wounded leg; her forehead struck the countertop with a loud and
resounding crack. Kasumi grabbed her forehead with one hand, her knee
with the other, and collapsed onto the floor.
A few minutes later, her eyes still clenched against the blinding
ache that had invaded her head and was steadily opening new lines of
communication with its daughter-colony in her knee, Kasumi managed to
grit her teeth and ask, "How long was I in the shower, Minder?" She'd
put Chinatsu on the bus at seven in the morning; now it was nearly
three in the afternoon?
"Kasumi-san activated the shower at approximately 0725 hours; the
shower was shut off in accordance with local water-use regulations at
0825 hours. The shower remained occupied until 1421 hours; the shower
was reactivated at 1351 hours." She had been unconscious for nearly
six _hours_?! Shakily, Kasumi struggled to her feet. She could still
make the appointment, she thought muzzily; after that, no doubt about
it, she'd take herself to the doctor.
A few minutes later, Kasumi rushed down the stairs and down the
hall, grabbing a coat and throwing it on over her sweater as she
stepped back into her sandals. She snagged her purse from the hall
table and dashed out to the car, searching for the keys as she ran.
Slamming the car door shut earned her a banged elbow; she gritted her
teeth in exasperation and sped down the long drive. Rubbing her
various bruises, she nearly swore; it was as if, after nearly thirty
years of acquaintance, her mind and her body were strangers again,
unable to synchronize for even the simplest tasks. She gripped the
steering yoke as if fearing that her body would simply float away with
her, and accelerated over the hill towards the main road.
From the hilltop mansion's highest window, wise old eyes followed
the tiny blue vehicle as it turned onto the road to Hakone and sped
away.
-----===***===-----
Chinatsu kicked open the main door, grinning in triumph as it swung
open just enough to latch. She leapt across the first tier of stairs,
ran down the rest, and took a deep breath at the bottom of the stairs.
The mid-day atmosphere was warm, pleasantly spiced with scents of cut
grass and open-air cooking. She stretched her arms as the rest of the
school poured out of the doors behind her in a flood. She didn't feel
like going straight home; she could get a ride from her mother after
that lame meeting in the afternoon.
So decided, Chinatsu adjusted her pack and turned away from the bus
lines. She swung her arms cheerfully, waving to people she knew as
the red buses puttered past, then crossed the street. Down the
avenue, past a sunken greensward where she usually ate lunch, the more
interesting shops clumped like doddering old men beside the local
monorail station; with a few hours to kill she could hit a couple
bookshops before hooking up with her mother.
Before she did any shopping, though, Chinatsu decided to take care
of an errand she usually ran on Saturdays. Not exactly a chore, it
wasn't quite habit; she normally had to argue with herself for hours,
whether to go through with it or not. Nevertheless, she found herself
repeating the ritual every week without fail; she had ever since the
building was constructed. Today, she felt, it was less onerous
somehow.
Without the hesitation that usually plagued her, Chinatsu pushed
through the rotating door of the Hakone/Tokyo3 United Nations Veterans
Memorial Museum, following a worn carpet along a path she knew by
heart.
-----===***===-----
"Who's stupid idea was it to come _all_ the way out here on our
field-trip?"
"I don't know, probably yours! Ow, hey, quit it! Jeeze, you
psycho!"
"Why are you upset? You agreed to come."
"It was _my_ idea, Asuka! This place is _great_!"
Chinatsu frowned as she rounded the corner. She always followed the
same route through the museum, as did most of the visitors she had
seen, but there was a small group of younger teens entering the room
from the other side. Where Chinatsu had followed the guided tour,
stopping at each display or presentation, this group had apparently
come around in reverse order.
Chinatsu was about to just go around, ignoring them completely, when
she realized they'd stopped in the worst possible place: exactly where
she was headed! She stubbornly followed the numbered pictures
depicting various scenes of the Japanese Air Self Defense Forces in
action over Korea and China, hoping the kids would move on; she
studied them casually as she sidled closer.
Of the four, two were girls, two boys. Neither of the girls seemed
particularly interested in the displays, although the red-head was at
least glancing around. The taller of the two girls, incredibly pale
with blue-ish hair, just stood in the middle of the room, gazing out
the high-set windows. The two boys stood closer to the wall, one only
partially paying attention; his focus seemed to drift to the paler
girl with regularity. The other practically pressed his nose to the
glass, he was that eager. Chinatsu imagined a wagging tail on him.
She growled to herself.
"Check this out, Shinji! 'Nukaya Motoyuki, Ace, Sino-Korean
Theatre' with 48 kills! Wow! He was flying the old Mitsubishi F-1 C
upgrades, against the Chinese 31s and 29s. I heard about this guy!"
The eager one, fair-haired, adjusted his glasses and tugged at his
companion's sleeve. They peered closely at the plaque; one whistled.
Chinatsu felt her fists clench, her teeth grit, and turned to walk
away, but couldn't. A great deal of willpower was expended, each
time, to force herself to come here; she was not able to go without
completing her task. She blew out a breath, searching for a bit of
the calm that her mother had entreated her time and again to maintain.
Folding her arms, she began softly tapping a toe against the marble
floor, repeatedly telling herself that she had plenty of time, the
kids would move on.
"What's so great about this guy?" The redhead barged forward,
shoving both boys aside, and scanned quickly down the engraving which
described the man's military accomplishments. "'Awarded the
Distinguished Flying Cross with Order of Eagles, 2004, posthumous, for
gallantry and bravery' yadda yadda yadda... what's this? 'Credited
with 56 ground victories in his last sortie; shot down and wounded,
Captain Nukaya single-handedly eliminated...' Aida, what is this?"
"Yeah, that's what I'm talking about!" The kid with glasses stepped
forward, arms akimbo, grinning with obvious relish. "This is the guy
that supposedly was shot down, crash-landed in a remote village full
of PRC regulars, and wiped them out with just his issue pistol and his
bare hands! Talk about a hero! He was up against, like, a full
company of infantrymen, all dug down in bunkers and fake houses. And
somehow he got 'em all before he <urk>!"
Without even thinking about it, Chinatsu flowed from a relaxed
posture, grabbed the boy by his jacket, and slammed him against the
wall. She realized that her fore-arm had automatically pressed into
his windpipe; backing the pressure off a fraction, she leaned in,
boring her eyes into him with all the fury of a decade's pain.
"That... is... such... BULLSHIT!" She spat, nearly shaking; all
thoughts of promises to her mother fell away as she focused on the
frightened boy before her. "That's nothing but fucking propoganda!
You know what really happened? You wanna know what _really_
happened?"
The boy, Aida, was waving his left hand in an apparent attempt to
make the universal 'tap out' signal; failing that, he tried nodding.
The arm bar across his throat made any head motions supremely
difficult, and he could already feel the blood pounding in his head,
but she didn't loosen up one bit. Still, she thought she saw a
flicker of curiousity in his wide eyes.
"That... story... was just a, a cover for what really happened. He
got shot down but the thing was, he was carrying a load of really
nasty shit. Stuff nobody was supposed to be using." Aida made a
strangled, interogative 'erk' noise, and she decided to let him have a
little more air. "Anti-personnel bomblets, and poison gas, all
targetted for Shenyang. You knew we were losing the war for a while,
right?"
Another nod, more felt than visible. Chinatsu looked around. The
loud-mouthed girl was gaping stupidly at her, while the slim, dark boy
and the pale girl were just staring. Realizing what a spectacle she
was making, Chinatsu felt a mild heat rise in her cheeks. She roughly
pulled Aida up and stepped away. She focused on the plaque, then
gently traced the smooth gilt edging of the picture frame above it
with her fingers.
"We were losing the ground war, and it was decided at the highest
levels to begin destroying major industrial facilities using whatever
means were necessary. Like poison gas. Like mini-bombs designed to
decapitate and dismember. And they did. Only, see, this plane was
shot down, and crashed in the middle of a village full of civilians."
Aida had folded as soon as she dropped her lock on him, gasping as
he held his body upright with hands on knees. Now, he gingerly
straightened. His neck was red, chafed, and would likely show a
bruise; Chinatsu didn't look directly at him, but could easily see the
damage reflected in the glass of the picture frame.
"The bomblets scattered, just like they were designed to. The gas
cartridges burst, killing a few people and leaking into the ground to
poison the aquifer. Then the little bombs exploded, all at once."
She found her hands tightening, becoming fists against the roughness
of the white plaster walls. "Everybody was killed; old people, little
kids, everybody."
"And the pilot, who had survived the crash, the missile that shot
him down, and most of the last great war on Earth, he died too."
Chinatsu closed her eyes, hating this feeling of loss, of betrayal
that had never left her, hating the tears that were sure to come now.
She had walked in feeling as if this time, the ritual would come more
easily. Now it was turning into the worst episode ever. She drew a
shaky breath and wiped one sleeve across her hot eyes.
"The UN had to cover it up, especially since the whole thing turned
out to be a collosal fuck-up. So they cooked up this story about a
brave pilot surrounded by enemies, and buried the town and the truth
real quietly. His family got fed this line of bull, although the
facts came out less than a year after the end of the war."
"Why do you care about this?"
Chinatsu turned her head slightly; out of the corner of her reddened
eyes, she saw that the paler girl was now looking directly at her,
calm as could be. The girl gave no indication of having spoken, just
looked and looked with eyes red as blood at the core. Chinatsu faced
the wall again, choosing to look into the eyes of the photograph
instead.
"It's exactly the sort of thing I hate about the military, and the
government. Where they can't win, they lie; where they can't lie,
they throw money at the problem until people forget about it." She
whirled suddenly, grinning sardonically as three of the four behind
her took a step back. "I'm against war, and lies, and all that stuff,
you see."
"Well, you're my first violent pacifist." the boy she had assaulted
grinned and stuck out his hand. Chinatsu felt her eyebrows draw up
against her will; he just kept smiling. "I'm Aida Kensuke, and I'm
against willful violence and the violation of the personal space of
private citizens."
"Huh." Without realizing it, Chinatsu found herself smiling thinly.
She took his hand and began to apply pressure. "I'm Nukaya Chinatsu."
Kensuke grimaced a little, and she was gratified to see beads of
sweat forming at his temples. She released his mauled hand, grinning
widely as he tried to massage feeling back into the mottled skin.
"You know, you've got some guts. I've beaten people black and blue
for less." Chinatsu smirked, then turned back to the picture of her
father. He really was quite handsome in the pilot's jumpsuit; she
touched fingers to her lips, then brushed them over his smiling face.
"Hey, you can't just beat on people you don't know!" The redhead
had finally regained enough composure to sound outraged.
"Are you really the person to be saying that, Asuka?" The other
boy, Shinji, asked with only the barest hint of irony in his voice;
Chinatsu chuckled when she saw Asuka punch him in the arm. She made
to leave, but Kensuke called out to her.
"Hey, hang on a minute. We were just about to grab some food, but
we're not from around here... can you show us any good places?"
Chinatsu paused, then realized she didn't really have anything
better to do. "Sure, there's a place by the park." She entered the
hallway, stopped at the exit, and yelled, "Well, c'mon! You coming or
not?"
Kensuke trotted out of the hallway, followed by Shinji, himself
beset by Asuka, trailed finally by the pale girl who, Chinatsu
realized, had not been introduced at all. With a hard shove, she
slammed through the door and onto the sidewalk, forcing the others to
jog after her.
"So, who are they?" She asked when Kensuke drew up beside her,
matching his shorter pace to her longer stried. With a toss of her
head, she indicated the trio which strolled a few meters back.
"Well, you know how you despise all things secretive and military?
They're like the living embodiment of shady government spending."
"Oh, that's helpful."
"Hey, I can't let you pump me for information until I've got some
food in me! Don't you know you're supposed to wait until your subject
is content and lax from over-eating before beginning your
interrogation? Besides, I wanna hear more about these coverups."
This kid, Chinatsu reflected sourly, was going to be a pain.
"Did you know that the US Government has been suppressing alien
spacecraft sightings since the beginning of World War Two?"
A definite pain.
-----===***===----
"Mrs. Nukaya is here, sir."
The stout young receptionist ushered a flustered Kasumi into the
conference room. Secreted away in the dustier section of one of the
older wings of the school, the small wood-panelled room showed its age
in yellow-stained windows and an ancient fan that creaked alarmingly
above the solid oak desk. The slowly-turning blades did little to
dampen the heat that permeated the room; if anything, the fan swept
more heat down from the ducts strung across the high ceiling.
Peering into the dim room, Kasumi spied a large fleshy lump in dark
brown slacks protruding from a door at the far side of the room. She
hesitantly stepped forward, and was able to make out more details: a
man in shirtsleeves and suspenders knelt before a decrepit air
conditioning unit which had been carelessly deposited in the back of
an old closet. He muttered to himself, banging ineffectually at the
dented metal box.
Kasumi cleared her throat, quietly, then stepped back to allow the
man to rise. He glanced sheepishly at her from beneath heavy gray
brows dusted liberally with sheetrock and plaster fragments, coughed
into a dirty kerchief, and gestured not unkindly towards one of the
high-back chairs facing the desk. Absently wiping the sweat from his
softly gleaming, nearly hairless skull with the kerchief, he settled
into the battered leather chair behind the desk.
Kasumi settled as well, and watched as the florid older man adjusted
his glasses and rummaged across a large, coffee-stained blotter for a
folder. She glanced about surruptitiously. The high ceiling, fogged
windows, and sturdy construction brought to mind old police dramas
from her youth; the resemblance was heightened by a weathered maple
coatrack in the corner. A fedora and beige overcoat hung limply there
as if organically grafted to the laqcuered tree's recurved branches.
A cough from the man, who she presumed to be Nakayukia, brought
Kasumi's curious examinations to a close. He appeared to be at least
a decade older than herself, she thought, with a cheery complexion and
the sort of bushy mustache that brings to mind walruses. As if
sensing her thought, his mustache twitched back and forth as he
examined the file before him. Closing the file, he leaned forward;
Kasumi had to repress a smile as the image of a bespectacled walrus
again sailed through her mind.
"Nukaya-san. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting; as you can see,
the cooling unit has been giving us some problems."
"I'm the one who should apologize, Nakayukia-san; I was very nearly
late for the meeting." The teacher nodded, apparently satisfied that
the formalities were out of the way. He leaned forward on his elbows.
Kasumi felt her breath quicken. He pushed his glasses back absently
with one stubby finger; a tingling lightness swept through Kasumi's
head.
"Are you... quite alright, Nukaya-san? You look flushed," Nakayukia
quirked one caterpillar-like brow in mild concern.
"I've been feeling a little odd recently," Kasumi admitted, feeling
her stomach churn slightly. "I don't mean to be rude, but...will this
take very long?"
Nakayukia smiled, apparently not offended, and shook his head. "Not
long, no. Nukaya-san, Chinatsu-chan is a good student, when she
applies herself. She gets along fairly well with _most_ of her
teachers, and is certainly one our brighter kids. However..." At
this, the older man straightened. He flipped through the file before
him, continuing, "She does have a tendency to lose her temper,
although often only with extreme provocation by other students. It
wouldn't be such a problem if she wasn't leaving those students in
casts or slings on a regular basis... but we have been getting
complaints from other parents."
He perused the file, flipping back to consult something, and Kasumi
felt an old fragment of memory surface like an wooden carving in a
dark pool: 'She's really a sweet girl, it's just that she's a violent
maniac.' The sweet melancholy of the recollection burst lightly in
her chest, and Kasumi shook herself in an attempt to focus on the
present.
"I'd like you to consider placing her in an anger-management
seminar, Nukaya-san. It's proven effective with several of our more
troubled teens." Seeing Kasumi frown distastefully, he added, "Just
think about it, would you please?" Kasumi nodded slightly, and he
adjusted his bifocals slightly.
"The other _major_ problem is that she seems to despise History more
than most children." Smiling, he glanced up at the fan. "How did she
put it? 'Bloody-minded sexist Revisionist crap', I think was what she
said." He chuckled, obviously enjoying the memory. Kasumi had to
smile, half in embarrassment, but partly with pride at her daughter's
strong will.
"Now, I'm not inclined to disagree with her, but for the sake of our
faculty, I'll have to ask you to speak to her about this. From all
evidence, Chinatsu-chan should be one of our top students; I think
that all she needs is a little guidance." Kasumi nodded, and prepared
to rise, thanks ready on her lips, but Nakayukia wasn't quite
finished. He pursed his lips, closing the file, and leaned forward
again.
"Nukaya-san, forgive me for prying, but... your husband is deceased,
is that correct?" He fidgeted a little, twiddling his thumbs on the
blotter, and Kasumi nodded. Her dizziness was returning, and she felt
slightly short of breath, so she didn't feel up to adding details.
"I understand Chinatsu's father was quite a pilot, serving on the
Chinese front during the last of the wars. Have you spoken much with
her about her father?" Kasumi slowly shook her head; her eyes were
beginning to glaze from the heat. She was passing from warmth into
frightening chills; when would this man stop talking?
Taking no notice, the teacher continued, twirling a pencil absently.
"She's quite adamantly anti-military, which causes quite a bit of
friction in the school; while alot of the other students share her
views, none of them are quite as outspoken. It's led to more than a
few confrontations with the students whose parents are involved in
Nerv, or the JSDF. Has she expressed any feelings of resentment or
anger about her father?"
Kasumi tried to speak, but she was too parched. 'She doted on her
father,' she wanted to say, 'it broke her heart when he died. It
broke both our hearts.' But she couldn't, couldn't unlock her throat
or make her lips move. With mounting horror, she felt her eyes begin
to close, but Nakayukia just continued droning on and on.
"...ask, she attacked a girl yesterday with this," he concluded,
pulling open a drawer beside him. "It's a replica of one of the
monsters that recently assaulted Tokyo-3; I believe she grabbed it
from one of the younger kids. They had been having some kind of
argument, and the last thing your daughter yelled before trying to jam
this toy down the girl's throat was something along the lines of,
'Let's see your giant robots protect you now, fascist twit,' or
thereabouts."
Kasumi jerked as the model entered the light. It was all over matte
black, with bulbous, bony white projections on its shoulders and
ribs, a vapid mask of a face, and a glittering red marble protruding
from its chest. The room began to waver about her, hot and spreading
vast as a desert; Kasumi gasped as the model flickered between its
tiny stature and a half-seen image as tall as she herself. Its jet
black eyes twinkled merry blue.
Nakayukia's voice droned on, buzzing higher and higher as the
beating of the fan stretched out into second-long thuds Kasumi mistook
for thunderous footsteps. She couldn't take her eyes from the
malignant visage of the toy; blackness crept into her vision,
narrowing her sight until that sanguine sphere became the entirety of
her world. As she sank into unconsciousness, one piercing thought
echoed like a claxon through her mind:
'Enemy!'
-----===***===-----
Chinatsu settled with a sigh, crossing her legs as she leaned back
into the warm bark of her favorite tree. The others crouched around
her, finding comfortable patches of grass as they could. Despite
their constant bickering, Asuka and Shinji sat together against a log
to her right, while Kensuke and the pale girl, whom she had learned
was named Rei, ended up on her left. While Chinatsu rummaged through
her scuffed backpack for her bento, they popped open colas and shifted
their various containerized meals.
"A-ha!" With a triumphant grin, Chinatsu snagged the lacquered box
from under a pile of textbooks. Noting Kensuke's curious look, she
turned it in the sunlight; the wood came alight, glowing richly as
polished inlay sparkled in the sun. Kensuke whistled lowly in
appreciation, then began chewing his way through a small basket of
takoyaki.
Across from Chinatsu, Rei held her skewered octopus balls to the
light as if studying a rare crystal. With exaggerated care, she
closed her eyes and stretched her mouth towards the deep-fried
octopus, looking for all the world like a wary horse about to lip a
sugarcube. Chinatsu managed to choke back a chuckle, then glanced
sidelong at Shinji and Asuka.
Unaware of her scrutiny, Asuka and Shinji traded guarded glares,
each tightly clutching a cardboard container to their respective
chests. Their eyes fenced furiously, each trying to stave off the
other while mentally devouring their seatmate's food; Chinatsu grinned
as she withdrew chopsticks from the bento lid and began shoveling
fried rice in as fast as she could.
"So, Chinatsu-san... your dad." Chinatsu eyed Kensuke warily over a
rice ball, chewing determinedly. A dozen conversational gambits
sprang to mind, but she discarded them. Something about his open,
eager look put her off. To cover her discomfort, she nodded and
continued eating, inviting him to continue.
"Well, it's just... I can't imagine what it would be like if my Dad
was a war hero. Doesn't it make you feel, you know, proud?"
"I don't see it like that. I know he hated what he was doing, but
he did it anyway. That doesn't seem like a hero to me." Chinatsu
swallowed a large lump of rice, washing it down contemplatively with a
swig of cola. "More like... spineless."
"Hah ha-erk!"
Varying in severity, four pairs of eyes turned to Asuka. With a
strangled chortle, the girl had inhaled a mouthful of okonomiyaki;
Shinji's face was a battlefield as concern and annoyance waged a quick
and dirty war within him. Finally he took pity on Asuka, slapping her
across the back until she whooped in a great gasp of air.
"Don't...mind me," Asuka managed after several strained breaths,
tears streaming down her ruddy face, "hit the wrong pipe; I'm fine
now!"
Returning her attention to the tray balanced on her knees, Chinatsu
brooded. She picked fitfully at the nori salad; how did she feel
about her father? She loved the memories she had of him, strong and
gentle; but she had never understood what had possessed him to leave
his family for a war he didn't support. Was that heroism, or even
duty? Chinatsu shook her head slightly.
"Dad ran off to play soldier, and that was it. Nothing fancy, no
big deal. I don't wanna talk about it." Scraping a last few grains
of rice up with her chopsticks, Chinatsu washed back the last bite
with the dregs of her drink and stood carefully. "Now, I'm going
shopping. You can stay or come along, it's up to you."
Kensuke nodded eagerly and stood to wipe off his backside; after a
few seconds, the others followed suit. Following Chinatsu, they
climbed out of the secluded grotto and into the park proper.
"Rei? REI!"
Except for Rei, who was carefully twisting two skewers into a
double-pronged weapon while intently eyeing her last yaki, muttering
things like "Send out Rei... she's not dead" and "Unit 00, sortie to
destroy the Angel".
-----===***===-----
The mall turned out to be filled with a lively crowd of weekend
shoppers, lending a cheery air to the normally sepulcheral building.
Chinatsu led her squadron of tag-alongs through the bustling press
with pride, finding herself enjoying the company. While wildly
disparate in temperaments, together their little troupe made for
interesting conversation.
As Chinatsu and Asuka were trying to drag the boys into a lingerie
shop, mainly to see how flustered Shinji and Kensuke would get,
something in Rei's pocket began beeping furiously. Almost immediately
thereafter, the main lighting cut out, plunging the mall into an amber
dimness like a volcanic twilight. Flashing emergency lights and a
recorded voice pronounced emergency conditions, directing all
civilians to shelters.
Chinatsu swore violently and stomped out of the store. She made to
follow the stream of shoppers already rushing for the nearest shelter,
but paused. Rei, completely calm despite the flashing lights and
noise, had unfolded a compact cellular phone from her pocket and
seemed to be concentrating intently on whatever she was hearing from
it.
Chinatsu sidled back towards the small cluster of teens just in time
to hear Rei intone, "It's an Angel; we are recalled immediately."
"Whaddaya mean, 'recalled'?" Chinatsu demanded, startling Shinji
and Kensuke. The younger children exchanged a complicated four-way
look, which caused Chinatsu's short temper to shorten considerably
further. She grabbed Kensuke by his shirt-collar and lifted him
slightly above the floor. "What does a bunch of kids have to do with
Angels?"
She was distracted, however, by Asuka's agonized groan. "Schiess!
How are we going to get back to Tokyo-3!?"
Shinji clapped a hand to his head, crying, "Oh no, all the monorails
are shut down!"
"We are authorized to comandeer a vehicle," Rei said, giving
Chinatsu an unnervingly direct stare. "In a state of emergency, Nerv
operatives are to be given all cooperation."
"Nerv..." Chinatsu breathed, unconsciously releasing her grip on
Kensuke's tortured shirt. The skinny boy squawked as he lost his
balance and fell on his butt, drawing Chinatsu's gaze like a hawk to a
field mouse. "You!"
"We were gonna tell you!" Kensuke flinched, raising a frail arm to
ward off possible retaliations, as Chinatsu loomed over him. "They're
the Third Children; the pilots of the Evangelion units, and defenders
of Tokyo-3!"
"Bullshit!" Chinatsu rounded on Rei, floundered in the face of the
slight girl's blankly unflappable mein, wheeled instead on Shinji.
"You can't tell me you guys are part of that spook factory!"
A small, manicured hand thrust preemptorily into Chinatsu's face,
momentarily silencing her; it bore a plastic identification card,
imprinted with the Nerv logo and Asuka's name. As Chinatsu gaped,
Asuka smirked and slipped the card back into her breast pocket.
Chinatsu swept each of them with a disbelieving stare, only to meet
affirmative nods all around.
"I don't believe it," the older girl whispered, realizing as the
sound echoed faintly through the masoleum atmosphere that they were
the only inhabitants of the huge mall.
Kensuke stepped forward, breaking the silence. "Will you help us,
Chinatsu-san?"
"Why me?"
"Well..." Shinji looked abashed, and Asuka grimaced; Chinatsu began
to understand.
"None of you can drive." She almost laughed, surprised to see a
faint blush pinking the boys' cheeks. "You're fighting space
monsters, piloting giant robots, and you can't drive. I don't know
what you want from me, I haven't got..."
Looking quickly at her watch, Chinatsu grinned suddenly. "Well,
guess I do have a car after all. Follow me!"
-----===***===-----
ENEMY!
Yui shot out of the chair, eyes wild; she crushed the Angel before
her between her hands, but the feeling remained. An Angel approached,
coming closer each second... its presence was an itch in her mind, a
pinpoit of searing heat that addled her senses. She dropped the
plastic remains and turned her head warily, ignoring the old man
gasping out his surprise, trying to ascertain the Angel's direction.
"Nukaya-san?" She heard, but paid no heed. She was supposed to be
doing something, she knew, but what? Memories of failsafe plans,
fall-back measures more than a decade old, drifted up from the back of
her mind, and she threw open the door. Her shoes clattered loudly in
the empty hallway as Yui sprinted to the entrance and slammed through
the heavy doors. Yui took the steps three at a time, desperately
trying to find one specific building.
As Yui panted, casting about for the small building she sought, the
squeal of tires wrenched her head around. A small blue electric car
screeched out of the school lot and whipped past her, hood stuffed
haphazardly with extra batteries. She was able to catch a fleeting
glimpse of faces, one intently grim, several terrified, before the
vehicle passed. It zoomed through the intersection at a precarious
tilt, nearly rolling over before the driver straightened the wheels;
within seconds it was out of sight.
Suddenly, Yui saw her target; she set out at a dead run towards the
local police box. Actually a small kiosk, the police box was manned
by one officer and offered nominal protection from the elements. Yui
threw the light door open with a crash and was inside before the
officer could move; as he stammered in shock, she thrust aside a
filing cabinet, hunting for something... there!
Her fingers trembling, Yui tapped an old passcode into the keypad
set into the rear wall of the police box. For a second, she thought
she had failed to enter the correct code; then a section of the wall
swung out, revealing an inset box. Yui grabbed the cel-phone that lay
within, still wrapped in its original anti-static plastic, and tore
away the packaging. It was all coming back to her.
-----===***===-----
The whine of burdened tires, constant since Chinatsu had flogged
the overloaded car out of town, drowned beneath the shrieking air
battering at protruding features as they crested the modest pass and
howled down the hill towards Tokyo 3. Wallowing drunkenly, the little
two-door lifted over each bump like a lunar hurdler, taking long
seconds to reach a gut-heavy equilibrium every time.
"I don't know if the car can take much more," Chinatsu shouted over
the din, nervously eying the hood. It bounced and bucked crazily,
straining to tear off its hasty wire moorings and slam against the
windshield.
"_I_ can't take much more of this!" Shinji yelled back, palely
tense between Rei and Asuka in the narrow back seat. On either side
of him, the girls leaned forward, eager for a glimpse of the
yet-unseen advancing Angel. Shinji bent forward to cradle his head in
his clammy hands and groaned.
Ignoring his friend completely, Kensuke leaned across the console.
"Damn, 250 kilometers per hour! Nice work, Asuka!"
Chinatsu nodded. Asuka had pronounced the beetle-like citicar
incapable of hauling their crew over the pass in the little time they
had; when asked for her solution, she had smiled cryptically and
snatched a pry bar from the trunk. Within minutes four adjoining cars
had suffered her wrath, and were sacked for extra batteries. Asuka
had, with Kensuke's help, kludged together almost an entire new power
supply; this was banded together with bunji chords, and the whole
thing strapped down with wires stripped from the neighboring vehicles.
Now, burdened almost to collapse, the blue beetle rocketed down the
long hill towards Nerv Headquarters, bobbing back and forth across the
road like a punch-drunk pugilist. They slewed across three lanes,
rounding the wide turn towards the city, rolling crazily as Chinatsu
desperately steered towards the Nerv exit. The car shot from the
offramp as if launched; Chinatsu barely had time to gasp as the
towering blastproof shutters hove into sight.
"Oh, crap!"
-----===-----
Notes:
First, this is not a lemon.
Second, this is not a Ranma crossover.
Third, this doesn't religiously follow Evangelion canon; in fact,
much of what occurs is my own invention.
Sorry :)
My profound thanks to Alan and Ammadeau for their insight and time.
Comments, criticism, questions all cheerfully accepted and replied
to.
Thank you for reading.
Martin