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platypus3333
platypus3333@yahoo.com
This is a draft. I need lots of C&C, because I think there are a lot of problems with the fic right now. Please... send me C&C... you can even say that my fic sucks, my writing blows...
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Kangae: Gendou
or
End of an Era
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I never thought I would actually see it happening.
I've planned this for a while, you know. A long time, really. To see the 12 strong men, the very souls of nations, so very weak. To see Armageddon finally happening. It's funny, really. Almost hilarious.
That I started this so long ago. That I've striven for this all these years; and now it's finally happening.
That everything would fall into place so readily. I couldn't have imagined it.
Like pieces of a puzzle. Everything is coming together, finally, now. I smile to myself, chuckle even, as I watch the picture being produced.
And as I lie here, staring up at the darkness above, I think of my son. Of Rei, of Kaworu, of all those that have come and died before me.
And then I think of her. her smile, her grace. Everything I've done has been for her, in the end.
Hasn't it?
It's what's kept me going so long, that promise, made on a summer day so long ago.
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"Now, see? That's a squirrel. See the squirrel?" The woman brushed a few strands of dark brown hair out of her eyes with her left hand while she pointed at the small animal with her right. "Can you say it?"
"Squirl." The little boy squinted, staring intently at the gray little critter. Then his attention span gave way: he began staring intently at the sky instead. He sneezed.
"Aw." Ikari Yui withdrew a tissue from the depths of her purse and wiped the boy's nose. Shinji struggled in vain against the onslaught, but to no end: mother and son grinned at each other, reflecting each other's smile in the late summer sun.
To the side stood a man.
More accurately, Gendou Ikari. He was an average looking man, "scruffy-looking," as his wife put it fondly. But one had to merely look into his eyes. and see an intensity, a focus and intelligence beyond imagining. These eyes were not gateways to the soul but mirrors of the world around him. These eyes observed.
Watching his family silently, he breathed a sigh and leaned against a tree. The aforementioned squirrel took this time to sprint over his foot and escape.
Gendou turned his head to watch it depart into the shadows, taking the time to marvel at the fact that it was even there to do so. Just a year ago, the species was all but extinct, its natural habitats disappeared. But it had come back. what was it that Kozo had said? "The ecosystems of the earth are gradually reasserting themselves," or something to that effect. Environmentally speaking, the Second Impact had had a minmal effect on the planet, Nature already reverting back to the status quo after a mere 6 years. Certainly, new evolutions would develop, as they always did: subspecies would be produced to cope with the severe damage dealt to the planet's electromagnetic field, as well as its atmosphere. But still: minimal effects. Remarkable, really.
And then he turned back to his family, focussing on his son. Mere animals were not the only ones to evolve, of course. In fact, they received among the least benefits. The Second Impact had essentially produced a new sub-species of human, a branch infused with the residual radiation present in the air in the year following the event: the children conceived within that year were special, he knew that for a fact. Leading geneticists (such as his own wife) had discovered a mutation in the 17th chromosome: unofficially dubbed the "Angel's Blessing." No amount of genetic manipulation had thus far been able to duplicate this phenomenon, nor did children conceived after the (roughly) 13 month period possess the "blessing." Gendou had his own guesses why- everyone did- but kept them to himself.
Just like everything else.
He was not a particularly outgoing man- in fact, he was downright depressive and withdrawn; but resolute. In essence the Ethan Frome united with his eternal Mattie Silver, Gendou Ikari was content.
For the moment.
He straightened up as Shinji toddled his way to the tree. No taller than his father's knees, he was a small boy, slender, almost fragile, a porcelain doll given life. Gendou regarded the boy as an alien being, a small creature that had mysteriously appeared in his life that he simply could not begin to comprehend, much less understand. The boy's mannerism, his actions- they fit no logical path his father could devise.
But he, too, was content. Even happy.
The man bent down and looked the boy in the eyes. He never knew what to say to the boy, what to do. The pair were two lost souls together, tied together by a single thread. He would clearly see that link in the boy's eyes. They were Yui's eyes: blue, large, shining eyes. they gave the boy his air of almost feminine delicacy and fragility, an air that Gendou didn't dare disrupt.
They stared at each other. And then Shinji tilted his head toward the sky, squinting as he stared into the clouds. "What's that?"
Gendou, too, looked up. "What's what?"
"Dat." The boy gave no indication as to what "Dat" referred to.
Yui came to her husband's rescue. "That's the sun."
Shinji blinked. "Oh." They always seemed to understand each other like that, in an instant communicating all thoughts and ideas. Gendou believed, firmly, that this was due to some maternal instinct. He made no effort to understand this relationship, as long as he was a part of it. "I wanna go there."
"Go to the sun?"
"Yeah. 'S pretty." He looked questioningly up at his mother. "Can I?"
She laughed, a wonderful chime. "Well. maybe. Someday. Right, Gendou?" She blessed him with a brief glance.
".Right. Someday."
"You'd like that, Shinji? Going up to the stars?"
"Yeah."
Her eyes gleamed thoughtfully. "Someday, Shinji. You'll get to the sun, you'll be like that. Like a hero, a great man, going all sorts of places, doing all sorts of things."
"'K." He thought for a minute. "Promise?"
Again, she giggled a little. "Sure, I promise. Do you promise me?"
"."Sure." The boy nodded sagely. To him, the promise sealed the entire affair, an insurance of sorts in an unstable world. People that broke promises were bad, he knew: terrible, terrible people. And his mother was not a terrible person. Then he pointed at something else. "."
"What? What?" She picked him up and walked toward the object of his interest, leaving a thoughtful young man standing alone next to a tree.
Ikari Gendou's eyes gleamed in the dark shadow cast by the tree. 'He will be a great boy,' the man thought. 'I promise, Yui.'
And then he went to join them.
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Yui. I loved her more than she ever knew. More than anyone would ever know.
I don't know if I made the promise for Shinji or for her, really. I don't think I ever will. The fatherly part of me believes the former, while my heart screams the latter. It would make her happy to see Shinji succeed, I knew.
And all I ever wanted to do was to keep her happy. Happy forever.
We had joined Gehirn several years before Shinji's birth, meaning to preserve the world and ensure humanity's survival- a noble, if ambitious, goal. A bright, noble goal for bright, noble days. There were no worries, then- not like now, nothing like the turmoil we would all grow to know. The survivors of the Impact, banded together to persevere and save the planet for the future. who could've guessed that it would come to such an end? I was suspicious. I always was. But she was happy, there. She felt she could help, truly make a contribution with her knowledge in genetics and biotechnology.
Still, though. she was most joyful when she was with the Children. Every time, she would smile that special smile. No one could resist that smile, it was infectious, contagious. I couldn't ever stop myself from smiling back at her.
And as I lie here, staring up at the darkness above, I think of my son. Of Rei, of Kaworu, of all those that have come and died before me. I think of her. And her smile.
I love that smile. that smile that I see right now. or do I? Do I see that smile?
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"Today, we're going to play tag. Does anyone know how to play tag?" Ikari Yui kneeled down next to the group of Children. She looked around at the assembled multitude, and smiled warmly. There was her own son, of course- and the other Children. Marduke had been very efficient in tracking down those conceived in that one special year; here, there were children from all over the world. "Well?"
Behind her, her husband stood silently, consulting his clipboard. He ignored the majority of the massive group before him, instead casting brief glances at particulars when he came to their name. He smiled slightly when his wife grinned reassuringly at the crowd.
"I do." Of course, that little red-haired girl always raised her hand. She was a bright girl. exceptionally bright. Marduke had reported her as a child prodigy, and she seemed unnaturally aware of her own status. She was extremely aggressive, perhaps as a result of this self-awareness. Certainly, she believed she was better than some. "Baka Shinji!"
*Whap* Gendou winced slightly as the girl smacked his son upside the head. Yui fervently believed that the girl's constant abuse of her son was due to fondness, being incapable of seeing ill will in anyone. It was this optimism that he lacked, instead clouded over with a strange negativity, a manifestation of Murphy's law. Maybe that was why they were together, he thought to himself. To complete each other.
"Mom!" Clutching his head, Shinji looked pleadingly up at her.
"Now, Asuka, we don't hit people unless there is an extremely, extremely good reason."
"He stuck his tongue out at me!" She pointed at the boy and made puppy eyes.
"I did not!" He stuck out his tongue at her. She took this opportunity to grab it.
"See! See!" She tugged on it.
"Hlah! Muh!" His arms flailed frantically.
Yui assumed a stern look. "Asuka, let go of Shinji's tongue right now."
Reluctantly, she did so. "Aw." She smiled sweetly at the boy as he backed away a little and rubbed his tongue.
"Ow."
His mother quickly regained her composure and started over. "Well, anyway, Asuka, why don't you explain to the others how to play tag?"
"One person is it and everyone else gets chased by the person that's it and whenever a person that's not it gets tagged by a person that's it, the person who was tagged becomes it and the person that was it isn't it anymore and runs away." She smiled proudly.
"Very good, Asuka!" Yui clapped her hands. "Who wants to play tag?"
"Erg." Reluctantly, the Children all raised their hands. The last one, the son of a scientist called Suzahara, started snoring in the background.
"Ok, then." Yui got up slightly and bent over slightly, her hands on her knees. "Well, today we're going to get to use the gym. Is that all right with everyone?"
"Yeah." Asuka, assuming that she was the leader, moved aside to distance herself from a skinny boy playing with an imaginary gun. "Anyone else gets smacked!"
Inevitably, Yui walked toward the gym, followed by a crowd of small Children. She laughed as she heard Asuka bullying Shinji again, hearing her son's little yells in the background. 'Someday.' She had once confided that she could imagine those two together, sometimes, it just looked so right. Like they were made for each other: Shinji so meek, Asuka so arrogant. He hadn't believed her, but had chosen not to comment. He watched as she smiled her little smile, and started whistling a little tune, as she continued walking, a mother duck with her flock. Her husband nodded to himself, and took the first right, toward the Evangelion Testing Labs.
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.And then she died. One day, just like that.
I never saw it coming. Neither did Shinji.
I remember those nights, when he wouldn't stop crying, wouldn't stop sobbing into his pillow and wandering around in the darkness, wailing for his mother. who wasn't there. I would listen to him, and begin to get up to get him back to bed. and then I would notice the empty spot next to me in the bed. And then I would cry, just like my son, just sit there on the of my bed, staring into the darkness, tears streaming down my face. I had no idea how much I missed her.
In the public, though, I wore my mask. That mask that so many, I knew, had come to hate. and several had come to love. There would be no emotion, I told myself. Emotion made you weak, vulnerable. It made you powerless, a blubbering moron, ineffectual to act, to fight against the darkness. It made you nothing. And so I remained cold, a wall, a block of ice. Nothing would get in, nothing would get out. They weren't people, they were objects. Like pawns in a chess game. I had lost my queen. there was nothing else to do but preserve my king with the devices that remained.
But then there was Shinji.
Every time I saw that boy, I could feel my wall breaking down, my defenses crumbling. He would look at me with Yui's eyes. those eyes that I missed so much, and I would almost break down and weep right there. Those gleaming, sorrowful eyes. They bothered me so much.
What could I do?
I sent him away.
I still remember that day, when he was standing with an agent in the train station. He was staring off into space, so apathetic, like nothing mattered. Just himself, alone, with everything else just on the other side of the fence. Those beautiful little eyes staring at nothing.
I would've ran out right there and brought him home. But I wasn't weak. I wasn't an emotional fool. I was strong. Even as the train moved away and I watched from my vantage point standing next to a bench, across from the platform, I stood firm. Resolute. Nothing was getting to me yet, I said to myself. And nothing ever would again. Not Rei, not Naoko, not Ritsuko. They were all meaningless pawns, so insignificant in the greater plan, the plan that would make everything make sense.
Still, though, nothing could have prepared me for my son's return to Tokyo-3.
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Ikari Shinji walked slowly to the center of the metal path. Around him, technicians bustled and yelled as they prepared the Evangelion for action. He stared that dead stare.
Above him, his father returned it. He hadn't seen his son for many years, nor had he wished to. Those piercing, sorrowful eyes, now staring straight up at him. He fought, successfully, the urge to turn away. "Shinji."
"Father." A strange mark of defiance gleamed in his son's eyes. Gendou could see it: the boy was angry at him, angry at the world. It was here, in the machine next to him, that his mother had been lost. And he hadn't forgotten it.
Father and son stared at each other for several minutes, while the Major, Katsuragi Misato, stood off to the side, glancing at the two worriedly. She checked her watch. Next to her stood Akagi Ritsuko, checking her clipboard for the Evangelion's readings. She ignored the exchange.
Shinji frowned. "Father, why did you call me?"
"For exactly the reasons that you think."
"Then. you mean I should fight with that thing."
"Correct." He adjusted his glasses, pushing them back onto the bridge of his nose. "I called you because I need you."
"Why me?"
"Because no one else can, now." Neither of them had budged from their spots.
"I." His son looked down at his hands. "I can't do this. I don't know how-"
"Dr. Akagi will brief you on the operations of Eva."
"I can't. It's impossible. Me. against that thing outside?" His son looked back up in anger. "You leave me alone all these years. never even writing. and now you call me back to die?"
"Then leave." Gendou shifted his feet as the base rumbled. The angel was directly above them by now. There wasn't much time left: he would either win or die. There was nothing else.
"What?"
"Leave." He gazed coldly down. "There is no place for weaklings here. or anywhere. If you won't do as I say, then leave. Go back to where you came from."
Misato carefully touched Shinji's shoulder. "Shinji. then why did you come here at all? You knew it couldn't be for anything good, you even told me that. Don't run away now."
"." The boy was silent.
Gendou turned away scornfully. "Leave him, Major. We don't have time to deal with the weak. Sub-commander-" Fuyutsuki Kozo nodded on the screen. "Wake Rei."
"Is she in any condition to fight?"
"She isn't dead."
"Understood." His screen blinked out, only to be immediately replaced with a blue haired girl. A single red eye glanced at him, painfully, the other covered with a soiled bandage. She took a deep breath. In his mind, Gendou applauded the girl. She would not fail him. She would not betray him.
"Rei?"
"Yes."
"The replacement is useless. Again." He watched as understanding flitted across her features. She closed her eyes for a moment.
"Yes."
Down on the catwalk, Ritsuko nodded and turned. "Reconfigure Unit 01's system for the First Children," she ordered. An engineer nodded and began inputting commands into his laptop. She a little further and watched as a door smoothly slid open to reveal 4 figures wheeling a 5th in.
Ayanami Rei gasped in pain as the stretcher clumsily hid a wire, causing her to jump. When they arrived, she turned her head to regard the other Children. They stared at each other. Then they looked up as the building shook around them, dislodging pieces of equipment and machinery. Rei yelped in pain as the stretcher overturned, dumping her to the ground. Then Shinji's eyes widened. "Look out!"
Ineffectual against the pillar, he still ran to her and began to pick her up. Gendou frowned. If they both died, they were of no use to him. He began to move, to make a command, to go to action, when something beat him to it. He watched warily as the massive bulk of Evangelion Unit 01 moved its arm to cover the two children, the falling steel girder bouncing harmlessly off the single armored hand. He straightened up again and watched as his son held the injured girl close to him. Then the boy looked up. "I. all I have to do is get into it, right?"
"Yes."
"I." Shinji glanced down at the gasping girl in his arms. "I'll do it." His eyes gleamed once more as he was led away by the scientist. He turned and glanced at his father sadly, then walked into the darkness.
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Everything went quickly after that, didn't it? All those angels, the return of the Second Child. it was all a blur after that. Shinji ran away. several times, in fact. But he always came back. And whenever he did, I would smile to myself, in the depths of my catacomb of an office. He was progressing nicely. They all were. Rei, Asuka, Shinji. even that boy, Suzahara. they all performed admirably, really. Especially Shinji. my son. I was proud of him, genuinely proud, every time he won, he triumphed. Triumphed over Seele, triumphed over angels. even triumphed over me. He was a man among men, and in the end, it was he and only he that grew to touch the stars. In the end, it was he who won, he who would become a god. Yui would've been so happy. I always wanted to make her happy.
And as I lie here, staring up at the darkness above, I think of my son. Of Rei, of Kaworu, of all those that have come and died before me. I think of her. And her smile. So far gone, now. So far gone. And yet so close. I close my eyes, and I can almost see her looking down at me, hear her call for me to join her. I smile as I raise my injured stub of a hand to the heavens in a salute. And then there is. nothing.