Chapter 39

The two roommates sat together at the dinner table for what seemed like the first time in ages. Shinji had cooked, of course, something for which Misato was grateful because she was getting pretty bored with the watery soups and tasteless concoctions provided by all of Central Dogma's cafeterias. The fact that he had taken it upon himself to cook also meant he was coping, even if he still wasn't going to school.

Misato had always loved Shinji's cooking, but no matter how hard she tried to enjoy it, the awkward silence inthe room made her feel slightly uncomfortable. They hadn't spoken about Asuka in days. Shinji seemed as keen to avoid the subject as she was to make sure he was doing alright. She tried not to look at him, fearing she might increase the awkwardness between them and cause him to walk up and leave.

She didn't want to drive him away—the one thing she thought he needed was someone to be with.

"I'm finished," Shinji said as he set his chopsticks down on the table, next to his plate.

Misato lifted her gaze from her own plate, which was only half empty, and looked at the boy. He was depressed, she could tell. His shoulders were sagging, his whole posture slumped. The pale blue orbs of his eyes seemed bleaker than she remembered.

Shinji had always had sad eyes. It just one of things—somehow the physical qualities of a person reproduced and even magnified emotions held deep inside. He was a gloomy, quiet kid, perhaps moreso than anyone that age should be, but sad was a different level entirely. Gloomy was usually a disposition towards the future; sadness stemmed from something that had already happened and could not be changed.

Sadness could not be fixed, no matter how much Misato wished she could.

"Dinner was very good, Shinji," she said somewhat cheerfully, trying to ease the tension that had grown between the two of them. "You really outdid yourself."

"Thank you," Shinji replied in a whisper, his head down.

"Maybe if things had been different, you could have become a chef." Misato didn't like the how that sounded, as if that possibility was gone forever when it really wasn't. Shinji was young, and he had his whole life ahead of him. He was an Evangelion pilot, but that wasn't all he could ever be.

"Maybe..." Shinji began. He pushed his plate away and rose slowly to his feet. "Uh...Misato-san, can I ask you a question?"

He hesitated as he said this, clearly attempting to broach an even more uncomfortable subject. Misato had a good idea what was coming, and braced herself. "What is it?"

Shinji swallowed awkwardly, hands clenching repeatedly at his side "I-I just wanted to know … Ayanami—Rei, she … I can pilot Eva. That's what you need me to do, right? I can pilot it. I can do anything. But Rei …"

"You want to pilot so she doesn't have to?" Misato finished for him.

"Yes," he said with uncharacteristic assertiveness. "I'll do anything. I won't complain. I won't disobey orders. Just don't make her …" he stopped suddenly, and Misato realize he was only now registering the look of regret on her face. "Sorry."

"I don't understand why Rei chooses to do what she does," Misato said. "But she does. Nobody makes her do it. I think maybe she's aware than we've been living in borrowed time—that sooner or later we'll need the Evangelions. You are one thing, but Asuka's out of the question."

The redhead's name seemed to catch him by surprise. He swallowed whatever protest he wanted to make. A shadow settled over his young face.

It was the first time the subject was brought up; Misato had not figured out how to do so and not come across as accusatory. Despite her best efforts, however, Shinji's conscience was not about to let him get off that easily. Her mentioning it now only seemed to upset him more.

He started to blush, but not from shame—it was anger turned inwards. Self-hatred. At that moment he was caught between confronting a very harsh reality and running away.

"I...I didn't mean to hurt her," he said remorsefully.

Misato nodded. It was all she could do. "I know, Shinji."

"I didn't mean for this to happen."

"Shinji..."

"I didn't mean for her to go away!" he yelled, as if needing to make her understand—there didn't seem to be anything more important to him in the world.

"We never mean for bad things to happen, Shinji," she said, doing her most motherly impression. "But they happen anyway. It's a part of life. All we can do is make sure that when bad things do happen, we should always try to find a way to overcome them. I don't think I'm the one you should be saying these things to, either. There's only one person who should know you didn't want to hurt them. And it isn't me." Misato pressed her lips. "What else can I say?

"Not much...I guess," Shinji replied dourly. "I just...don't know how to deal with this."

"With what?" Misato asked.

"The feeling of guilt," Shinji said. The admission seemed to hit him like a physical blow. His face hardened, a young set of features frozen in seriousness. "The feeling that this is all my fault. That I shouldn't have said those things. That … that I …"

"Only you can come to terms with your own feelings." She stopped him before he got any further, knowing full well where that lonely road would lead him.

Neither of them said anything else for a while. The silence hung in the clammy kitchen air like a blanket, pushing aside the smell of freshly-cooked food and filling the senses with something far less pleasant.

There was hardly any need for him to tell her that he was sorry in the first place. She had known him long enough to realize he wouldn't hurt a fly without provocation. It wasn't in his nature in the same way that confrontation was in Asuka's. Again she regretted the decision to bring them together, to even dare to imagine that their personalities could peacefully coexist.

Finally, Shinji turned around. "I'm going to bed."

"Good night."

He picked up his plate and put it in the sink. He'd made it a few steps into the living room, before he stopped and then turned back. "Misato-san?"

"Yes?" she said attentively.

"Would you mind taking out the trash tonight? I know it's my turn, but I'm...just too tired."

He could have asked her to quack like a chicken and she would have done it. He could have asked for a lot more. Misato remembered how, in the depths of the war with the Angels, she had gone as far as offering him her body. She had only touched him, to let him know that she was there for him. However wrong it was, she just wanted to make him feel better. But whether it was because he didn't understand or because he didn't want her, Shinji had pulled away. It had been easy to think that he was just too innocent.

Misato regretted that incident, and thinking about it only reinforced the sense that she was completely unprepared for the role she was attempting to play. She wasn't a mother, to either Shinji or Asuka; she was just a stand-in, an unwed matron who was little more than filler.

"Don't worry about it, Shinji," Misato said with a deceptively reassuring wave of her hand. "I got it. You go on. Good night."

"Thank you," Shinji said.

As part of their assigned duties, Section 2 agents kept surveillance on the Children and submitted regular reports. She hadn't been home to keep tabs on him personally, but she was aware of the fact that he had missed school several days in a row. He was probably avoiding Asuka, and missing must have seemed like a reasonable precaution, which she could understand. But the reports also indicated the Second Child had been absent as well. In any case, Asuka could afford to miss school—the only reason she'd been assigned to Class 2-A to begin with was to facilitate surveillance and security—while Shinji couldn't.

Admittedly, Misato had told him to take a day off to go talk to Rei, but she hadn't intended for him to extend that indefinitely.

School, like cooking, represented a future apart from the Evangelion, things that could open many doors later on in life. She would have to talk to him about that. Not now, though. His future was secondary only to his present, and he certainly didn't need a lecture from her right now.

"I'll do the dishes too, Shinji," she added, not feeling it was fair to put him up to doing chores. It was a little thing, but she had to carry her own weight. Shinji needed her to be a grown up, to stop placing undue burdens on his shoulders.

Shinji nodded, bid Misato a good night again and went to his room. His steps were heavy as he went, lacking even the faintest trace of willpower, his socks rustling silently against the floor.

Misato finished her last bite and leaned back on her wooden chair, throwing back her head so that she could stare at the ceiling. The yellow light fell harshly on her face. Her skin was hot and covered in perspiration, even though she only wore a stringy top and shorts. Asuka had always complained about the need for a new air conditioner. But she ignored these things, her mind drifting elsewhere… to Shinji and what he was going through.

Somehow she had to make sense of it—there had to be a logical explanation for how things could have gotten so far out of control. Because, maybe then she'd be able to help him.

"Is that it...a consequence of guilt?" she whispered absently to herself. "He's too hard on himself."