Chapter 10

Asuka leaned heavily against the thin material of her door, looking down at the red neural connectors in her hands.

It felt strange being home, not so much a painful feeling but rather an odd one—like her heart had not yet decided if she should be sad or happy. Once she could not pilot her Eva they should have shipped her back to Germany in disgrace. Without Unit-02 she was worthless. No one needed her. Not even Stupid Shinji. So why had she bothered coming back here?

When she had first been brought out of sedation in the hospital she had just laid there on the bed, starring blankly at the ceiling, her abused mind not interested at all in what happened to her. The nurses did what they could to cheer her up as they did their rounds and cared for her. And it was that humiliating treatment that sparked some sings of life in her, and, true to her character, she began to fight.

The nurses seemed to have expected her to be thankful—she wasn't. She wouldn't let them get near her anymore, even had to be restrained on occasions when her violent struggling made her a danger to herself and those around her.

Then, one day in the middle of another fit, a nurse let it slip how she couldn't believe that such a nice brown haired boy had come to visit someone like her.

And Asuka became aware of her heart beating once again. Things changed after than. She became more willing, wanting now to get better so she could receive visitors. Surely, Shinji wanted the same thing. He had come to her, hadn't he?

But even that small hope turned into seething anger and bitterness as the days went by and she remained alone. Nobody ever came. She thought it would be better if she never felt anything again and tried to resign herself. At that, like at everything else, she failed, and began to sink back into an uncaring depression. Until finally …

Seeing Shinji in the hospital earlier had made something inside of her stir; a wonderful and yet strangely disgusting feeling she wished she could be rid of.

Why would Shinji, of all people, come to her? And why did it bother her so much that he hadn't done so before?

The answer was painful and obvious. As the Angel broke into her mind it resurfaced more than memories; the pain she had endured watching her mother in the hospital, cradling that stupid doll as if it were her own child while she stood by, ignored, had come hurtling back, and her heart shattered. Everything else—every toxic emotion she struggled to keep hidden—poured out of her until she was reduced to a hysterical, mutilated wreck, wounded beyond time's ability to heal.

Just like the wound left by her mother's death had never healed, merely festering and staying with her until that thing dug it up and—

Asuka's face hardened as anger flickered inside of her and pushed aside the thought; anger at the Angel, at Misato, at Shinji, at her own failure. She clung on to that anger for strength. Misato had brought her back to pilot Eva. That's what she was here for and not to spend her time dwelling on useless emotions, regardless of how powerful or haunting, like some pathetic little girl.

Piloting Eva was all that mattered now. They were working on something, Misato had said—something that might return Unit-02 to her. There was the reason she'd needed go on living.

She'd show them, she'd show them all.

Asuka Langley Soryu would once again be the designated pilot of Evangelion Unit-02.

The Second Child.

She reached into her damp mane, tracing her fingers along the thick curtain of hair that hung over one shoulder, lifting it up against the side of her head to pin it in place with a neural connector. She did the other side in the same customary way as she stepped over the discarded bits of clothing, old fashion magazines, and other personal effects that littered the floor and lay face-down on her own bed for the first time in months.

It was soft and comfortably warm, and the sheets were fresh with a faintly sweet scent of detergent that was a welcomed change to the sterile reek of hospital sheets.

Shinji's doing, Asuka thought, closing her eyes to let the feel and smell of being home engulf her.

She'd show him too.

...

Rei Ayanami always sat alone when outside of class, and she was always reading a book.

Nobody ever approached her to try to talk to her. Nobody ever talked about her either, the way they some times did about Asuka and the other girls. It was like she didn't really exist to the other students. And while this never seemed to bother her in the slightest, Shinji could not stand it. And so, when he got out of clean-up duty and saw Rei sitting on a bench in the school courtyard he could not resist going over to her.

He suspected that it was more than wanting to make her company. That because he felt so guilty about having shunned her for months he now was compelled, even forced, to do what he failed to do before.

"What?" Rei said as he approached.

Shinji choked on his words, and wondered how someone so quiet could also be so blunt. Or was he simply that transparent? "I'm just ... worried about you," he said uncertainly.

"Why?" Rei did not look up from her reading, her voice remained soft and even—any other girl would have sounded uninterested.

"Um, well, because people aren't mean to be alone." To Shinji there was something about the words that sounded hollow; he had spent so much of his life alone that it almost sounded like a lie.

"Some people choose to be alone because that is the only way to truly find themselves. It is easier to think when no one is around."

"So ..." Shinji murmured. "What do you think about?"

It wasn't intended as a deep question-he hadn't thought of it like that-just an attempt to get her talking and opening up, but he realized belatedly that it indeed one of the more esoteric things he had ever asked her.

"I have been trying to understand." There was long moment of silence after that, then, "Why do you refuse to pilot Eva?"

Shinji was taken aback, not because he was surprised that she knew but because that question had been haunting him for a while now and had caused a great deal of grief already. After being abused by Asuka on the subject he was unwilling to bring it up again. Her accusation that he was being childish still stung. With that, and the memory of the awful things he'd said to Misato, he could not bring himself to answer.

"I will tell you-" Rei started, but Shinji cut her off.

"Please don't. Asuka's already mad at me for this. And Misato. I don't want you to be mad at me too."

"I will tell you why I will pilot," Rei finished. "It is because life without purpose is worse than death."

But her reasoning was lost to him, drowned out of his head by the scream and the awful sensation of twisting emptiness in his stomach. "Pilot?" Shinji repeated, disbelieving and in shock. "Y-you?"

"Yes," Rei said calmly. "I am an Eva pilot."

"But ..." He felt stupid; his words sounded stupid, completely unable to convey just how wrong it was, both that she was being forced—and there was no doubt in his mind they were forcing her—and that she didn't seem to care. "But you can't."

She nodded. "I can. I am fit enough."

"It's not about being fit!" Instantly Shinji's eyes widened, his fists clenched. "Rei, they can't make you do this! Not after what it did to you. You ... you ... it killed you! And now you are just gonna go back? You can't!"

"It did not kill me, or I would not be here." Rei's calm demeanor stood in great contrast to his outrage. "And it did not kill her. She made a choice, as I make a choice. So when Unit-00 is ready, I will be its pilot."

"That's not a choice!" His voice trembled as he yelled, suddenly unable to fight the downpour of emotions.

Rei had died in her Eva—had died to protect him. She couldn't go back. And if she did, wouldn't that make him a coward? She had suffered horribly because of her Eva, and she had as much reason, perhaps more, to refuse piloting it as he did.

"Please, you can't do this to yourself." Then Shinji ventured a guess, the obvious one. "It's Father, isn't it? Rei, if you care about me at all, you won't do this, no matter what he says."

"And if you care," she said softly, "you will understand."

But Shinji was not willing to let it go. He owed it to Rei Ayanami to protect her, like she had done for him. He reached down, taking her shoulders in his hands and turned her to face him, half lifting her out of the bench. Her expression was of surprise; her eyes slightly wider than usual, lips pressed together. "Ikari?"

"Please, listen to me, Ayanami," he said, aware that he was on the verge of tears. "The last time you were in the Eva, you got caught by an Angel. I couldn't help you. And you were in pain, I could hear you screaming, but instead of letting it attack me, you ... you said goodbye to me and you ... I had to watch you die!"

The corners of her eyes sank. "Is that why you will not pilot, because you are afraid?"

Shinji nodded slowly. He found it difficult to keep his gaze locked with hers. Admitting his feelings was never an easy thing to do. "I am afraid to lose anything more."

At that, Rei's features relaxed once again and returned their usual neutrality. "You should not be. If you will not move because you are afraid, even when those around you need you to, then you have already lost everything."

Shinji let go of her. "Ayanami."

"Do not call me that. That was what you called her," she added, noticing the look on his face. "I am Rei. I am different." She raised her hands over her heart. "Even if I am also the same, like you said. And I am not afraid. And I will still move because I have something I do not want to lose."

Shinji rubbed a forearm across his teary eyes."What's that?"

"You."

He stared at her, stifling a sob.

Somehow that single word carried more with it than his entire side of the conversation, and the shock of it reduced any reply he might make to utter rubbish. Rei-the name sounded so perfect in his head-was not who he had feelings for, but that didn't mean he shouldn't care. Being different didn't erase what she had done on his behalf. And he couldn't let her put herself in danger while he refused to stop thinking about himself.

He had hurt Asuka because he had done nothing to help her; he had hurt Misato because he didn't understand. Other people needed him—the two of them before and Rei now—and it was for them that he should decide, not for himself. And become a man.

Just as Misato had said.

Suddenly he realized he owed his dark-haired guardian an apology. What his father had told him so long ago, that he needed to stand on his own two feet, suddenly sounded all too true. For someone who did not want anything to do with him, it had been good advice.

"Excuse me!" Asuka's sharp voice broke into his thoughts with all the subtlety of a hammer. "I hate to interrupt your secret little meeting, but the idiot should be coming home with me."

Shinji turned his head to find the redhead standing at the edge of the courtyard, staring them down with a glare. He didn't think that barging in and imposing herself like this was a very nice thing to do, but nothing good would come from point out such a detail. Rei seemed totally indifferent, not surprisingly.

Feeling like he had settled something with his conscience, he turned briefly to offer Rei a farewell, telling her to take care, then moved towards Asuka.

"What?" she grumbled.

"You know, if need me to—"

"Need? I don't need anything from you." She looked down at herself and Shinji noticed there was a red stain on her blouse, partially concealed by the jumper's thick straps. "That idiot Nagara spilled something on me. I want you to do some laundry. That's what you are good for, isn't it?"

Not wanting to argue, he nodded. They headed off together. Shinji hoped that would be the end of it, but the silence did not last.

"So, you and Wonder Girl? All hooked up, uh?" Asuka said in a sarcastically syrupy tone as they walked down the steps from the school's main entrance and down onto the street. "I suppose it fits. She's the only one with less personality than you."

"We are not hooked up. She is not ..." Shinji caught himself, uncertain if Asuka had ever found out what had happened to Rei Ayanami. "She is not interested."

"Oh, please, I saw the look on her face when you grabbed her." She turned her voice into a raspy imitation of Rei's softer tones. "Oh, Ikari, your touch is so manly. Take me. I'll follow orders, just tell me what to do, like the obedient little puppet I am."

"Rei's not a puppet," Shinji said, annoyed.

Asuka rolled her eyes. "You probably like your girls like that, thought, right?" she said, her voice grating once again. "Obedient? Servile? Dancing on strings without a mind of their own?"

Shinji didn't respond to Asuka's provocation. They walked towards the train station under the last golden glimmer of sunlight, neither saying a word. The streets were mostly empty, only a few students lingered around the shops, buying snacks or giving the nearby arcade a whirl. He recognized none of the faces, and it seemed strange how detached he had become from any sort of normalcy, and how he had never bothered to meet any new people so that he also might have friends to hang out with after school.

They stepped onto the train platform, joining several more students also waiting for the train.

"I can't believe I'm stuck with you," Asuka said and lowered her head, her sullen manner coming out of nowhere. "I wish Kaji were here."

That was a subject Shinji hoped he would never have to talk to her about, and would be happiest if it was not brought up ever again. It had been painful enough to hear Misato's distraught cries when she listened to the message on her answering machine. He knew what had happened, nobody needed to tell him, and if Asuka still refused to believe him that was fine. That it would mean living in denial mattered very little if it made it easier on her.

Shinji pressed his lips together, but realized it would seem strange, uncaring even, if he didn't say anything. "Yeah, me too."

He watched her for a moment; Asuka did not seem to notice his reply at all, and instead stared dejectedly at the tracks.