Howdy FFMLers,
Like I said, since _Ascent_ is taking a little longer than expected, I
thought I would pull out a few oneshots and let you bask in their
aesthetic luminance. Or their crappiness, however it strikes you. At
any rate, here's a draft I'd like some feedback on. If this doesn't
come through quite right, don't despair. I'll have it up on my website
(in the Oneshots section) by the end of the day.
As always, I don't own these characters. Which sucks, because they're
awesome. Anno Hideaki and GAINAX are even more awesome, because they
not only brought us these characters, but also have kindly refrained
from suing my broke ass.
WARNINGWARNINGWARNINGWARNING
This story contains some spoilers. More importantly, it contains LIME
elements. While not graphically described, sexual situations do arise
in this story. So if you're too young, too old, or too uptight to know
how to properly handle your naughty bits, exercise caution in reading
this tale. Got it?
Good. As always, I love C&C be it sent to the list or to my e-mail
account.
Sparky
*********
"Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent."--Isaac Asimov
Access Sparky's fanfiction, links galore, and all kinds of heresy
at Heaven's Gate!
http://sage_ohlmin.tripod.com/evafic.htm
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-- Attached file included as plaintext by Listar --
-- File: voice.txt
NEON GENESIS EVANGELION:
The Voice in the Darkness
By Sparky Clarkson
I still remember that first night back home perfectly, despite my
age. You'd think I could explain it, since I have a Ph.D. in
neuroscience, but I can only offer guesses. Part of the reason might
have been my mental condition at the time--newly reawakened from its
long sleep, perhaps my brain was overactive. Or perhaps I just
remember because it was the most important night of my life.
Whatever the reason, I can rest secure knowing that those memories,
like my dear husband, your father, will never desert me. Burned into
my mind, they can never be erased.
At the time, I had no clue how important that night would be. I
still chuckle sometimes when I remember what I thought as I sat on
the couch. I was bored. Not terribly bored, of course, and not
really displeased with it. A routine creates comfort, like a warm
blanket you can lose yourself in. And despite the fact that I had
just come home, the night was definitely routine.
You might wonder why I would call it home, since I had only lived
there for a few months. I had lived in many places before then, but
I never called them homes. Giving that name to the tiny apartment in
Tokyo-3 was my own admission that, despite everything I said, I felt
that I belonged there. Living in that place just felt right, and so
I called it home. I suppose I should have realized why that would
be, but I was still a girl, and I refused to accept what was in
front of my face.
I had flopped down on the couch to watch television, but because of
the time nearly all the channels were broadcasting news. I thought
the reports were terribly uninteresting: a fashion show here, a
trade negotiation there, a shocking crime in Osaka-2... Probably
engrossing enough for most people, but I had fought in a giant robot
against alien invaders. That tends to skew your perspective.
The routine bored me. I had been away for three years, and what do
you suppose happened on the first night I came back? Misato had some
work she'd forgotten to do, so she went back to the office. Shinji
hid in his room, as he often had, so my only company was Pen-Pen.
He'd gotten older, fatter, and lazier while I'd been gone. He parked
himself on my lap when I sat down to watch the TV, and he didn't
really want to move. There had been plenty of times in the first
months I lived there that I hadn't wanted to talk to anyone, but on
that night I would have killed for conversation. After all, I'd been
silent for almost three years.
Watching those news programs, I almost wanted the angels to be back.
Not just because it would have made things more interesting, or
because I wanted to feel the rush of battle again, though I'm sure
those factors contributed. I had been raised since I was a very
young girl to pilot those machines. Without any further need to
pilot, I felt adrift, purposeless. It was selfish thing to desire,
especially considering the risk and destruction that they caused,
but I would have given much at that moment to have the cell phone
ring with a call from NERV Headquarters.
But the world had gotten back to normal. That was the point after
all, I suppose.
<<<
I know my eyes lit up when she first walked into the hospital room.
I could recognize her instantly, despite the passage of time. Her
hair looked a little less bouncy, and she had the first signs of
developing wrinkles, but her clothes were still too tight, and
revealed too much of a still-shapely body. I honestly didn't think
they made General's uniforms in that style. Times change, I suppose.
Had I been stronger, I would have bounded out of the bed and hugged
her. As it was, I just settled for a big grin and a shout. "Misato!"
I called, "It's so good to see you!"
Misato smiled warmly at me, and waved her best 'V for victory' sign.
"I'm glad you're awake, Asuka," she said. "I meant to see you
earlier, but I have a lot of trouble tearing myself away from work
these days," she continued as she pulled up a chair. She grabbed my
hand and added, "I almost thought that you would never wake up.
After three years, almost all of us gave up hope."
"Almost?" I asked, but Misato ignored the question.
Instead, she said, "I suppose you're curious about what happened
after you..."
"Went off the deep end?" I said. I meant for it to sound like a
joke, but it came out with an accusatory tone. At that time, I still
wasn't prepared to deal with the fact that I had nearly done the
same thing as my mother.
"Became comatose," Misato suggested instead. When I nodded, she
explained the situation briefly. "The most important thing, I guess,
is that the war's over," she said. "Shinji fought off the final
angel shortly after you went under. Then Commander Ikari betrayed us
and tried to start a Third Impact using Rei somehow. She foiled his
plans, though, and exposed a conspiracy that was trying to destroy
the world using some angels that had been trapped. Rei and Gendo
died, and the ringleaders were imprisoned."
"So there aren't any more angels?" I asked. Even then, I felt
slightly disappointed, as if the end of the war with the angels had
robbed me of some kind of opportunity. Still, I knew it was probably
best for mankind.
"None. The captured angels disappeared, along with the Evangelions
and most of the associated technology... nobody knows how. The
remaining NERV personnel were folded back into the United Nations
Peacekeeping Force. Except for you and Shinji of course. You were
both retired and granted pensions as the thanks of a grateful
world," Misato explained.
"So that's it? It's over, and there's no great revelation, no great
step forward?" I asked.
For some reason, I felt like there should have been *something*. I
wasn't looking for something like the solution to all man's
questions written across the sky in great letters of fire, but I
thought there would maybe be a resolution for some. But life was
just going to go on.
"I suppose not, Misato replied, "But as far as I'm concerned, the
best way for any war to end is in peace, whether there's some great
revelation or not. The angels are gone for good as far as anyone can
tell, so now the world gets to carry on and rebuild. That's what
it's been doing for the last three years--healing itself."
She was right, of course. The world had been healing itself,
repairing the damage caused by Second Impact and the resulting wars,
and setting up the worldwide government we have today.
Most of it was healing, at any rate.
My vision wandered from the television screen and found its way to
Shinji's door. It had not budged since I arrived. Shinji had hidden
in there: I knew because I heard him moving around occasionally. But
I had been sitting out in the living room since I arrived, and the
door had not opened once.
I looked away quickly, when I realized I was staring at that door as
if I could bore through it with my eyes. That motionless barrier
unnerved me more than any of the angels ever had. Alone, the closed
door meant nothing... but my past held some closed doors that, once
opened, revealed very unpleasant realities.
Three years had taken something away from me--my ability to hide
from myself. That closed door was making me worry. Because of it, I
had to admit something I never really had before--I had to admit
that I was afraid.
<<<
I had decided to level the question at her as soon as she arrived.
Misato had been dancing around several subjects ever since I had
awakened, and I was now determined to get some answers. Of course, I
had some new advantages I couldn't have used before. My three years
of coma had taken away the exterior I had worn through most of my
first fourteen years of life. Without the outer appearance of
bravado, I was free to ask questions in such a way that people might
actually *want* to answer them.
She came in around sunset, wearing a civilian dress that was cut too
low. She had gotten older, as I noted before, but if she dressed
like that she was probably still causing nosebleeds. I wondered
briefly if it hindered her command. I greeted her with a grin,
saying, "Good evening, General."
"I see you're spending even longer periods of time sitting up,"
Misato replied, smiling in return.
"Yep, I've been sitting since two this afternoon," I bragged.
"That's great! You'll be out of here in no time!" Misato said,
beaming.
Her grin faded, though, when I asked my next question. "Misato, why
hasn't Shinji come to see me?"
Actually, to say that her grin faded doesn't state the case. She
looked stricken and pale the moment I finished speaking. For a
moment, I was afraid she was going to tell me that Shinji had died.
I had taken Rei's death with equanimity--I had worked with her, but
I'd never really felt anything for her. With Shinji, I felt
differently... though at the time, I could never have expressed how.
Still, his death might have sent me right back into a coma.
Misato flopped into the free chair with a grunt and rubbed at her
temples as if she had a headache. After a moment, she replied, "He
has, Asuka."
"Then why haven't I seen *him*?"
Misato shook her head. "I suppose you wouldn't have," she admitted.
I just stared at her dumbly, and she continued, "Three years, Asuka.
More than 1000 days. And every one of them, every last one, he came
to this room. In three years, he never missed a day."
I dropped the book I had been reading. For some reason, my hands
just couldn't grasp it anymore. My mouth, too, had trouble doing
what I told it to. I moved it silently for several moments before I
was able to choke out, "Every day?"
"Even when he was sick, he would spend at least three hours a day in
here, just talking to you like you were about to say something back.
He never gave up on you, even when all the rest of us did. He always
believed you would wake up."
"So now that I have, why hasn't he come to see me?" I asked.
Misato bit her lip for a moment, as if she were trying to decide
whether to tell me the truth. When she made up her mind, she said,
"I want you to understand, Asuka, that it's not because he doesn't
care about you. He does, very much. He always asks me how you're
doing, and he tells me all the time that he wants you to be well
again."
"But..." I suggested, when her pause went on too long.
"But that's the only time he talks," Misato finally said. "He barely
eats anymore, and he almost never leaves his room. All the life has
gone out of him."
"Why?"
Misato closed her eyes for a moment, collecting her thoughts. Then
she said, "You saw a lot of the causes as they happened, but you
missed the biggest one. The seventeenth angel, the very last one...
wasn't like the others. He was a boy your age, maybe a little older.
Some people sent him to us as a pilot, and when Kaoru got here he
and Shinji became close friends almost immediately. They loved each
other very much, Asuka, and... at the end, after he had been
revealed as an angel, Kaoru surrendered himself and Shinji had to
kill him."
If I hadn't dropped the book before, I would have now. Nobody
deserved to have to do such a thing. Especially not Shinji. Killing
the only positive male influence in his life had to have ripped him
apart. Still, I couldn't understand why it would be overwhelming him
only now. I asked Misato about it.
She explained, "It's not just what happened with Kaoru, though
that's the biggest part. Shinji blames himself for so much pain:
Touji and Touji's sister were both crippled for life, Rei died, you
went into a coma... He never forgave himself for not disobeying his
father when the fifteenth angel attacked. I can't count the number
of times I've heard him brooding about how he should have rescued
you. The guilt has worn him down so much, but before he never even
felt worthy of death. It's not your fault, but because you woke up,
Shinji feels enough at peace to finally let go of his burden."
"He wants to die?" I asked quietly. Shinji had always moped, but I'd
never thought he would be depressed enough to try suicide.
Misato nodded slowly, "He's wanted it for three years. He only
talked about it once--right after he killed Kaoru he told me he
wished he had died instead--but he didn't *have* to say anything. I
could tell by his eyes. No matter what I or anyone did to try and
cheer him up, his eyes had this tired look... like he was an old man
waiting for his last breath. The only time he had any light in his
eyes at all was when he was in here with you."
"Can't the doctors give him an antidepressant or something?" I
asked.
Misato sighed and shook her head. "I asked a long time ago," she
said, "But it's impossible, for the same reason why we never woke
you up with drugs. Prolonged exposure to LCL causes a permanent
buildup of certain chemicals in the synapses. Technically, LCL is a
psychotropic drug--which is why it enhances the synch ratio. Adding
any other psychotropic medicines causes a deadly biological
reaction. In other words, if we tried to cure his problem with
drugs, he'd die."
"What about a psychiatrist?"
"We've tried them, but he just clams up. He's perfectly polite to
them, but he won't reveal anything," Misato replied. "Trust me,
Asuka. In three years I've tried everything that could be tried.
Nothing works."
I closed my eyes for a moment. I knew that I should be mad at him,
for acting so stupidly. At that point, though, I had at least
matured enough to remember that I had tried the same thing. If he
succeeded where I failed... something told me the loss would be
greater than I might have suspected. Almost involuntarily, I said,
"I wish he would come here so I could talk to him, tell him not to
do this."
Misato shook her head. "He won't. He's so sure you hate him that he
won't even take the chance," she replied.
"What? I mean, I wasn't exactly the nicest person before, but I
can't imagine my personality was so bad that he won't come see me at
all."
"It's not you, Asuka. It's him. Remember, he blames himself for what
happened to you. To Shinji, it's so obvious that he's to blame that
it doesn't even cross his mind that you think otherwise. If he were
to see you, if you told him yourself that he was wrong, he'd change
his mind. But he'll avoid you for as long as he can."
To think that he was so afraid, after three years, was mind-boggling
to me. I had said it facetiously before, but that didn't diminish
the truth: Shinji was always the hero. Despite all my bragging and
bravado, he had always been the courageous one. If it meant jumping
into a volcano, or catching a huge angel falling from the sky, he
had always been the one to call on.
Even if courage meant just sitting in a hospital room for years on
end, talking to a girl nobody thought would ever wake up.
I scooped up Pen-Pen and walked to the kitchen, giggling as the old
bird nuzzled up against me and cooed. I set Pen-Pen on the table and
grabbed a tin of fish. "Dinnertime, big guy," I said as I placed the
fish on a small plate.
Misato and I had already eaten at a restaurant. The meal had been
good, but neither of us had really enjoyed it. We shared a worry
neither of us had been willing to discuss... and Shinji wasn't with
us. We knew he'd never commit a violent suicide--despite those
berserker rages Unit One went into, violence had never been a part
of Shinji's nature. But every bite I chewed, every lump of food I
swallowed, felt like precious time slipping through my fingers.
Now it was just after ten, and I felt a little peckish again. As
Pen-Pen gobbled his fish, I opened the refrigerator to try and
scrounge up something to eat. I didn't have high hopes: after all,
it was still Misato's apartment. But I thought Shinji might have put
some leftover ramen in there.
He had put *something* in there. I gasped involuntarily when I saw
it, and almost involuntarily reached out and grabbed the plate. It
had obviously been left for me--a small, but clearly very carefully
made chocolate cake. Its richness was emphasized by the dark icing,
and the even darker hard chocolate strips that had been used to
spell out my name in katakana characters on the top of the cake.
I had to blink back a tear or two as I carried it over to the table
and put it down. I sighed, "Oh Shinji," as I did so. Under any
circumstances, it would have been a sweet, but unnecessary gesture.
If he thought I hated him, it was almost quixotic.
At the sound of Shinji's name, Pen-Pen perked up from his food. He
was a very smart bird. He saw the cake and clapped his fins
encouragingly. I just sat heavily in a chair, unable to take my eyes
away from the cake. So Pen-Pen grabbed a fork and waddled over to
give it to me. He slid it in front of me, then sat down at the
table, looking expectantly from me to the cake and back again.
"It would make him feel better if I ate it, huh Pen-Pen?" I asked.
The old penguin nodded vigorously and made a sighing noise.
"Yeah, I wish he were back to normal, too," I said, reaching out to
ruffle the old penguin's feathers. "But..." I added, "I don't think
I'll eat this cake tonight." I lifted the plate and carried it back
to the refrigerator. "We should eat it together," I said in response
to Pen-Pen's inquisitive stare.
Pen-Pen sighed and returned to his food. The remaining fish rapidly
disappeared, and he squawked to be let down from the table. I set
him on the floor as gently as I could, and he waddled over to his
fridge. Before he went in, he cooed a goodnight to me, and waved his
fin towards Shinji's room.
I knew very surely that Shinji and I should eat the cake together.
But I didn't know what to do so that it would happen. Pen-Pen had
told me to go to Shinji's room, but I didn't know if that was the
right step. I knew from my own similar experience that his emotions
would be very fragile. If I pushed too hard, I might shatter his
psyche. Sure, he would live... but more and more I was realizing
that his just being alive wouldn't be enough. I needed my Shinji,
not some zombie-like shell.
I put Pen-Pen's plate into the sink and flipped off the kitchen
light as I left for my room. I hadn't seen it yet, but Misato had
already put my luggage in there. I couldn't suppress my grin when I
walked in. Three years had passed, and nothing about it had changed.
Everything was right where I had left it, and it was all spotless.
No doubt Shinji had carefully watched over it for all that time,
keeping it ready for my return.
I said that nothing had changed, but this was not entirely true.
Only after I had gazed around the room for several minutes did I
realize that one thing was in there that had not been before. On my
desk there now stood a long-necked green glass vase, and in it sat a
single red rose.
<<<
Hikari came to visit about a week after I woke up, and after my
conversations with Misato. She still had her freckles, but she had
grown over the years into a very shapely young woman. We greeted
each other with great big hugs, then sat down to catch up on what
had changed in the years I had been away.
I learned that she would be going to Tokyo-2 University to study
history, and, to my surprise, that she and Touji had been dating for
almost the whole time I was in a coma. He and his sister were better
now, helped along by recent advances in artificial limb technology.
Unsurprisingly, Kensuke had already gone on to some American
university to study computer science. We gossiped for almost an hour
before I asked about Shinji.
Like Misato's, her face got very serious. "I haven't seen him in a
while, but I know he hasn't been very well," she replied, squeezing
my hand for comfort. "He's been unhealthy ever since you went into
that coma... he withdrew from everyone. Touji and Kensuke tried
everything..." she said, then giggled. "Once Kensuke even programmed
every message board in the city to read 'Smile, Shinji!'" she said.
We both laughed, but when she calmed down she said, "Nothing worked,
though. He stayed in his routine: he'd go to school, and then he'd
come here. Every day."
She paused for a moment, then continued, "You wouldn't have expected
it, I'm sure, but he's become quite a poet. He didn't do well in any
of his classes, really, but every time we went to our writing class,
he would come up with such wonderful poems. He would never do this
with them himself, but one time Touji and I sneaked a copy of one
away from him and entered it in an international contest, and he
became a finalist!"
"Poetry?" I asked. Somehow, it seemed right for Shinji, despite his
tendency to become tongue-tied. He had a reflective nature that
would probably fit the poetic discipline. With time to plan out his
words, I had no doubt that he could be eloquent.
"I have one with me that I stole from him," Hikari said, blushing.
"It's not one of his better ones, but I think... I think you'll like
it. Most of his poems are like it, at least. He always writes
about... well, you'll see."
She dug through her satchel and pulled out a wrinkled piece of
paper. She handed it to me, and I read aloud as quickly as I could
work my mind around the kanji:
"No gentle breeze will come to shake
her as the wind might cause the trees
to toss and sway their leaves. She will
not shift or move, but she has life
within her even though no sign
of it will surface. Stillness does
not signal death in roses, though
they do not move in blooming. Her
red petals open slowly in
the window-filtered sunlight, but
they do not wither, fade or die
despite the passing of the years."
"Roses," Hikari whispered dreamily. I saw that her eyes had been
closed while I read. "He always wrote about roses..."
I tentatively reached out and touched the deep red flower, trailing
my finger along the delicate petals and down the stem. I noticed
that all the thorns had been carefully cut from the rose, so that I
wouldn't prick myself on it. Again, I sighed. He didn't need to make
these peace offerings.
I pulled the chair back from my desk and sat down heavily in it,
still staring at the rose. I could see the easy way out of this
predicament already. If I accepted these little gifts, I knew Shinji
would see it as a sign of forgiveness. That might be enough to keep
him alive, but I knew that wasn't enough for me. Besides, he would
still think that I had hated him in the first place. I couldn't
accept that. I had to come up with another option.
The devil of it was that I couldn't figure out what else to do. If I
did nothing, he would surely die. If I just accepted the gifts and
went on my way, he might still let himself waste away, and if he
lived he would never believe that I didn't hate him. Yet if I did
anything else, I might destroy him.
I shook my head and stood, opening my bag to pull out a nightgown.
Hikari had bought it for me as a present. While unremarkable both in
terms of its style and its pink color, I had to admit it was very
comfortable. I flipped off the lights and lay down on my futon,
sighing as the cushion conformed to my body.
I rolled over on my back, and crossed my hands behind my head. The
comfort of my futon could not disguise the worry gnawing at my mind.
I had never been one to stay up nights out of concern for others
before, but a person can change in three years, even if she doesn't
remember any of them.
I had tried to recall something, of course, but I had not recovered
even one moment of that time. I could only remember what I had
promised myself in that period--the changes I had sworn I would
make, and the resolution I had made to fix my relationship with
Shinji.
I always had a little thing for Shinji. When I met him on the
carrier, something about him caught my attention--perhaps it was
just that he was polite and quiet, qualities the rude jock and
spindly freak he was with couldn't match. And I felt something that
day, when we beat the angel. As the months went by, we fought some,
but I grew to really like him. But the more I started to care, the
worse I started to treat him.
I still can't believe I washed my mouth out after our first kiss. I
was angry that night because the man I had a crush on--Kaji, I don't
think I've told you about him before--smelled like Misato's perfume.
Hurt, I decided I would cover it by pretending to be angry that I
had kissed Shinji. I washed my mouth and complained loudly, knowing
he would hear me, knowing it would hurt his feelings. I wanted to
take my own pain out on someone, and Shinji was always my target.
Sometime in those three years, I decided that I couldn't do that
anymore. Most of my other choices during that time were about the
way I would view and behave myself, but the repair of our
relationship was what I wanted to start on right away, almost the
moment I woke up. Now, it seemed that might never happen. Even
worse, I now had one piece of added knowledge that made the burden
on my heart even greater.
His devotion, the poems, the rose, the cake... I knew what they
meant, even if I would never have believed it before. Shinji was in
love with me--desperately in love. And he felt so hurt and guilty
that the only thing he wanted to do was die.
I rolled over and punched my pillow. It wasn't his fault! He didn't
deserve that guilt! His sick bastard of a father had been behind
everything from the beginning--Shinji had only been his unwilling
pawn, blackmailed into servitude because he couldn't bring himself
to let others get hurt!
I realized then that Shinji hadn't just been watching over me since
I went into the hospital. He'd cared for far longer. The volcano,
that kiss... they were only the outward signs. He'd been held
hostage in a duty he hated, a duty he would never have taken, by the
fact that he cared for me and Rei. He stayed for us. And I had never
said so much as a thank you.
I made my mind up. I knew I might not choose the right course of
action, but I decided that I wasn't going to run away if he hadn't.
He'd pulled me out of the volcano--I owed it to him to pull him out
of the abyss. At that point, I was still blind to my real
motivation, but even if you do nothing but think for three years,
there are things you can miss.
I reached his door almost before I realized I was going to go there.
For a second time that night, I faced the closed door... my final
obstacle, and my last chance to turn back. I knew I was taking a
risk if I went in. I might screw everything up badly, especially if
I did something stupid and lost my temper. If I couldn't keep my
sometimes acidic tongue under control, I could let loose the wrong
word and lose him, if not in the sense of suicide then at least in
the sense of withdrawal.
I reached out and trailed my fingers over the little sign that read,
'Shin-chan's lovely suite.' I remembered making fun of him for that,
even though Misato had come up with it. I thought of the hurt looks
he'd given me when I ridiculed him, and remembered the smiles he'd
given me on the occasions I'd said nice things to him. My fist
clenched convulsively. I might screw this up, but if I did nothing I
knew what would happen, and I'd be damned before I let another
person I cared about slip through my fingers.
I opened the door, silently thanking Misato for never installing
locks. I stepped through quickly, sliding the door quietly shut
behind me. Glancing to the bed, I saw that Shinji's sleep had not
been disturbed. Not by me, at any rate. I could tell from the
tension on his face, though, that Shinji was having some terrible
nightmares.
I walked towards his bed, and just as I reached the futon, Shinji
cried out softly. His face momentarily displayed a look of horror
and grief as he moaned the word, "Kaoru."
The boy he was forced to kill, still a fresh horror in his mind. For
a brief moment, I wondered whether I had any chance. Could *I* undo
all this damage?
Nothing for it but to try.
I made my way over and knelt down by the bed, getting my first real
look at Shinji since my reawakening. He had only grown five or six
centimeters, although he seemed to be a bit more muscular. He still
had the same, short hairstyle. However, he'd lost almost all of the
roundness in his face--now his features had an angularity
reminiscent of his father's. Unlike his father, though, his face had
no trace of a beard... or of hair growth at all. To this day I still
remember how shocked I was when Misato explained it to me.
<<<
"Electrolysis? On his face? Why?" I asked, trying to control my
revulsion. You know very well how much I despise cosmetic surgery,
and this seemed even worse. It had to have been painful, and I
couldn't imagine why it might be necessary.
Misato looked like she had expected my reaction. She had just
started up the car on our way out of the hospital garage. She'd been
mumbling about how the discharging desk had worked much more
smoothly last time, and when I asked what she meant she told me
about Shinji's operation.
"It was for his own safety," Misato explained. "The first time he
saw a trace of a beard--that would be about a year ago--he punched
his fist through the mirror. Then he went out, bought a razor, and
nearly scraped the skin off his face, he shaved so thoroughly. I
figured he would probably really hurt himself unless we made sure
nothing ever grew. Hence the operation."
"Why? What's so bad about a beard?"
"You have to understand... Shinji now looks a little like his father
did. If he had a beard, it wouldn't be too difficult to mistake one
for the other. Shinji saw his father in his own face, and couldn't
take it. He won't wear tinted glasses of any kind, either--not even
sunglasses," Misato said.
"He hates his father that much?"
"I don't think that's quite it," Misato replied. "Shinji feels so
guilty about everything to do with his time at Nerv. His father's
face reminds him of that time, and possibly strengthens his own
feelings of guilt, since he is if nothing else the son of the man
who caused every last bit of sorrow there. He not only fears
becoming his father, but also thinks that because of his sins, real
and imagined, that he's damned just like Gendo."
Shaking my head sadly, I reached out and placed my hand on top of
his. I felt the knotted muscles beneath my fingers relax slightly.
Faint as my touch had been, I knew immediately from Shinji's changed
breathing that I had awakened him.
There was no point in trying to delay it now. I took a deep breath
and said, "Good evening, Shinji."
He replied with a quiet sigh, but didn't say anything.
I squeezed his hand gently as I continued, "Misato tells me you're
not doing very well. She says... she says that you might want to
die." Shinji began to tremble slightly, but he still didn't say
anything. I closed my eyes briefly, praying to a god I'd never
believed in before. I desperately hoped for someone, something to
give me the inspiration that would pull both me and Shinji through
this alive. I kept my eyes closed as I said, "She tells me you hold
yourself responsible for all the terrible things that happened... to
me, to Touji, to Rei, to Kaoru..."
Shinji made a barely stifled sob when he heard that name, causing me
to flinch. I could almost feel the pain that name caused him. I
opened my eyes again, gazing intently at my hand holding his. I knew
if I looked at his face, if I saw the pain there as I spoke, I'd
never be able to finish what I had to do. I said, "I know how you
feel. I... I had the same feelings once. I thought I'd failed you,
failed Rei, failed everyone. I thought... I thought I was all alone;
that nobody cared about me. I thought nobody loved me, that I was
useless.
"So I ran away from the world. I went into a dark little corner of
my mind and curled up there to die. And for a while, it looked like
I would. I shut out the light, and started to fade into the
blackness. I don't remember much about that time--there are three
years I'll never get back. But I do know that whenever I was almost
gone, I would hear a voice, and it would pull me back towards the
light.
"Maybe you don't believe me, Shinji. But I think you know that the
voice in the darkness was you. I heard every word you said, and each
one... each one kept me alive," I finished. The room was dead silent
for several moments, and then I heard a stifled sound from the bed.
Mustering up all the courage I could, I stood up and looked at my
roommate. Shinji's mouth was open, and he looked like he was trying
to say something. His eyes glistened with tears, almost to the point
of overflowing. I sat on the bed and smoothed back Shinji's hair,
very gently trailing my fingers along his scalp. He closed his
mouth, but he stared at me with a strange expression that seemed to
be a mixture of fear and hope.
As I gazed at him, I realized something that hadn't intruded on my
mind before. Three years ago, Shinji had been an average-looking guy
for his age--a little cuter than most of his classmates, but not
someone who would catch a second glance under normal circumstances.
Now, though, he'd changed. The childlike aspects of his face had
disappeared, so he wasn't really cute anymore. No, now he was
handsome.
I moved my hand to caress his cheek. In doing this I felt a sudden
rush of emotion--an almost electric surge that cascaded through my
body. I recognized the impulse instinctively; almost all people can.
Had my old emotional shield still been in place, I would have shied
away from it. I almost ignored it anyway, focused as I was on
helping Shinji. But that one natural surge had broken down some of
the barriers in my mind. Suddenly, a single memory from those three
years I had been away came back to the surface.
<<<
Nobody remembers exactly what being in the womb felt like, but I
imagine that if I were to recall the physical sensation of being
inside my mother it would have been like this. I was enveloped in a
warm, moist darkness. It comforted me and soothed me, much as it had
for the past three years. The peace I felt in its seductive embrace
had often nearly enticed me to leave behind my last ties to reality.
But reality held something that the darkness could not offer, a
sound that awakened in me a longing to fully return to the world.
When I heard that voice speak, as it did regularly, I felt sharply
that though seductive, the darkness was incomplete. It could never
offer true happiness or joy, only satisfaction. Still, the comfort
it gave, the security blanket it provided, was too much for me to
give up, even for the voice.
I no longer knew whose voice it was: it hardly mattered. The words
were lost in the filters between my senses and my mind. All I could
hear was the voice itself, stripped of form and syntax. As I lay
there that day, I listened to pure sound, and wondered what I was
missing while I lay in the arms of darkness.
I felt a twinge of regret as I sensed a light touch on my hand, a
touch that always meant the voice would soon depart for a while.
This feeling was unlike the pressure of hands or fingers--it was
more symmetrical, softer. A kiss.
Usually, the voice disappeared within moments of the touch on the
hand. This time, though, something different happened. As I awaited
the dull sound of a closing door that would signify the departure of
the voice, I heard words instead. My brain, surprised by the change,
did not manage to get my filters in place soon enough to block out
the words.
And so I heard Shinji say, "Good night Asuka... I... I love you."
The sound of the door closing followed quickly on the heels of these
words, but it could not undo their impact. The darkness had already
been shattered. Within moments, my eyes opened.
Again, my eyes had been opened, albeit in a more metaphorical sense.
I gasped quietly at the full force of the realization. Of course,
I'd had suspicions about his feelings for me--I'd practically known
already. The revelation for me was that we shared those feelings.
Almost unaware of my own words, I said, "I know... I know that it
was more than a duty for you." I caressed his cheek, continuing,
"Every day for three years you came to see me, even though you
thought I must hate you. And when I woke up you... you couldn't deal
with the prospect of never seeing me again. Is that what happened?
Do you... do you need me?"
Shinji nodded, just barely, but enough that the action was
unmistakable. The impulses within me swelled again, and my hand
trembled as I cupped his cheek.
"You were so afraid I would hate you," I sighed, "That you wanted to
die rather than face me." I shook my head then said, "Don't run away
from the world, Shinji. I tried... and it's the wrong thing to do--
the childish thing to do. You're not a little boy anymore, Shinji.
You've got to face your problems, because you're a man, now." I felt
a wrenching in my chest as a few tears trickled out of Shinji's
eyes. I knew what I was saying was hurting him some, but I couldn't
let him keep on living this lie that was tearing him apart.
"You don't understand," I said quietly. "You've been fooling
yourself, seeing only the worst things in you, and thinking that
everyone else sees you that way too. It's just not true. You think
that I hate you because you hate yourself. But I don't hate you,
Shinji. And the truth is, though all the words you said kept me
alive for those three years, only three of them were needed to wake
me up."
Shinji's eyes widened slightly in surprise. I guess he hadn't
expected that I would remember. I leaned down closer to him, my
heart pounding in my chest. I could see him wavering, but I knew I
needed something more to break down the last of his resistance and
make him see what I saw.
"You're a man, now," I repeated softly, "...and I'm a woman." I felt
the urges within me growing, my heart rate increasing, my blood
pressure rising--I thought I would be torn apart if I didn't release
these emotions soon. "And there are things men and women do," I
continued, trying to keep a calm grip on my voice, "when they...
love each other."
Oh don't look so shocked, dear. You asked me for the story, and now
you're going to get the whole thing, no ifs, ands, or buts. Your
brother didn't have any problem with listening to the whole thing.
Your brother isn't a pervert, Yui... He wasn't just listening so
that he could turn himself on thinking about the most venal facts of
our early sex lives.
They *won't* turn him on, dear. He's gay, remember? You *were* at
the wedding, after all. A "bridesmaid".
Well how should *I* know if that reflects their gender roles? Kaoru
always was a passive boy, but that really doesn't say anything about
how he'll act in bed.
And *you're* complaining that what *I'm* saying is dirty? Don't you
*have* a husband without chasing your brother's? Hell, you're
probably recording this so you can titillate yourself later on with
the salacious details.
You can't live with a poet-laureate for forty years without picking
up at least a few interesting words, dear.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, I had just admitted how I felt to
Shinji. He made a short, choked moan as I traced the line of his jaw
with my index finger. With my left hand, I reached back and undid
the snaps of my nightgown, allowing it to slip forward on my
shoulders. I slid my arms free of it, and let it fall into my lap,
barely suppressing a shiver as the cold, conditioned air in the room
flowed over my skin. I pushed the nightgown off my legs and onto the
floor.
Shinji went from slight trembling to all-out shaking as I reached
down and pulled away the sheets that covered him. Either unwilling
or unable to deal with the situation, he lay passively while I
pulled his shirt off--neither aiding nor resisting. When I had that
off him, I paused for a moment and looked into his eyes. They
widened as I lay a hand on his boxers. I could see that he was fully
erect, but I wanted assent from him before I went any further. I
didn't want to push too hard.
My answer came as he tentatively reached towards my face. He very
gently brushed my cheek with his fingers, as if he were afraid I
might disintegrate at his touch. With the slightest pressure, he
guided me down so that our faces were mere millimeters apart. Very
slowly I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his as hard as I
could. His lips were soft and warm, and they felt like silk pressed
against mine. I slid my tongue between them and into his mouth as I
pushed the boxers down his legs. He was still shaking a bit, and he
seemed a little bewildered.
I tossed his boxers to the floor and wrapped my arms around him as I
coaxed his tongue into my mouth. Slowly, tentatively, he did what I
wanted. I think he honestly had no idea how to react to me. I'd
called him a pervert almost as long as I'd known him, but when it
came down to it, he was as innocent as a kindergartener. His tongue
moved gently around my mouth, increasing my desire. Your father may
have been innocent, dear, but he has always been a natural kisser.
Finally, I withdrew from the kiss. Perhaps by that time I had
actually done enough to make him see the truth, but at that point
there was no way to turn back. I straddled Shinji's legs, pulling
him up into a somewhat sitting position. He stared at me with wide
eyes, deep blue made deeper by the darkness of the room. I pulled
him as close as I could and whispered in his ear, "Shinji, I love
you. I want... I want to join with you. Do you want that too?"
Shinji's response was ragged, almost as much a sob as a whisper:
"Yes. Please."
He didn't have to ask twice. I knew I was ready, and I wanted to do
this as much as he did, perhaps more. It wasn't just because I
thought it would help him see that he was worthy of love, or just
because of him at all. I wanted to do it for me, also. I wanted to
know how it felt to finally let down all the barriers and let
another person into my heart, my mind, and my body. I released him
somewhat, moved forward, and lowered myself onto him.
We got lucky, of course, in that my aim was on. It might have been a
little embarrassing otherwise. I felt the sharp, brief sting as he
broke through, and then the delicious fullness as he sank all the
way into me. I can't describe it too romantically, though. We were
teenagers, and we didn't have much idea what we were doing. Like all
teenage sex, our coupling was brief and a little clumsy.
That can't take away from how we felt, though. Somehow, we managed
to come at the same time, and that was magnificent. I had felt
nothing before that night, and nothing really afterwards, that
matched that sensation of coming with him. That first time, I was on
fire, my entire body tingling with the energy of our union. I've
since had better physical feelings and better emotional feelings,
but nothing after that night matched the sensation of uniting in
body and soul.
When we finished, and he had pulled himself out, I held him close
for several minutes. We said nothing, just caught our breath and
reflected on what we had just done. After a while, though, I felt a
few drops of moisture on my breasts, and I heard a convulsive sob
from Shinji. Everything that had happened that night, perhaps
everything that had happened to him since he left Tokyo-3, had
finally sunk in, and his last walls were coming down. He was shaking
again, and I tightened my embrace.
Now would come the difficult part. I knew Shinji would live. I just
needed to make sure that what I had after this evening was him. Not
somebody who lived and died just because I cared for him, but really
Shinji. Someone who would complain, whine, and get mad at me without
fear of losing himself. I didn't want a slave to live with me
forever: I wanted a partner. So when, after a few minutes of
sobbing, he asked, "How can *you* love *me*?" I chose my response
carefully.
"Shinji," I replied after a moment's thought, "I love you because
even after everything you did for me, everything you did to save the
world, you can still ask that question. You're the hero, Shinji--you
always have been. Unlike me, though, you always remember that you're
human. You never let your ability with the Eva define you. Instead,
you tried to be a good person, always wondering if you were good
enough. And you are. You're the best person I know, the best person
I ever could know. That's why I love you."
Shinji sniffed and wiped his eyes, looking at me with those
glistening blue pools. "You mean it?" he asked quietly. Remembering
the expression of hope on his face as he said those words still
makes me smile.
I didn't say anything in reply, though. Instead, I lifted Shinji's
head and lowered my own so that our lips met. Because the need that
drove the heated urgency of our earlier kiss had been satiated, this
one was more languid, intimate. We slipped our tongues into each
other's mouths, feeling and tasting each other from the inside. As
we did so, I lowered the two of us to the bed, pulling up the sheet
at the same time.
We ended up facing each other as we lay between the white sheets of
Shinji's bed, our arms still wrapped around each other. After quite
a while, we broke the kiss, and Shinji let his head settle onto the
pillow. "I love you Asuka," he murmured, "I always will."
"I know, Shinji," I replied, pulling him close once again. "I love
you, too. I'll never leave you."
Shinji sighed contentedly and wrapped his arms around me as tightly
as he could. "You're so beautiful..." he whispered.
I could tell that Shinji was fighting valiantly to stay awake. In
his state, however, that was a battle he was destined to lose. "Go
to sleep, Shinji," I whispered, mussing his hair. "I'll still be
here in the morning, still beautiful, and still in love with you. So
sleep now, and we'll talk more in the morning."
Even as I said the words, Shinji lost his battle with himself and
his eyes fluttered shut. A soft sigh escaped his lips and his face
relaxed into a slight smile.
"Good night, Shinji," I said, kissing him lightly on the lips. I
gazed happily at his face, thrilled at the contented look on his
face. I knew then that he would live for himself, but also for me.
We would live for ourselves, and for each other. We took formal vows
a few years later, in a church filled with dour Japanese officials,
but the only promises that mattered were the ones we shared that
night. Shinji had helped me find myself, and something else worth
living for, and I had done the same thing for him. That night, the
voice in the darkness was me.
END