Archive of Our Own

"I Want (not) to Die!"

Shinji jolted awake, as if he had been torn from a dream he could barely remember. His eyes opened too fast, and the light burned his eyelids. He shut them immediately, the sting spreading across his face. Damn glare. He blamed it on having spent too long in the dark, in that abyss he couldn't escape—neither in his mind nor in his reality.

He took a deep breath, letting the somewhat sterile air fill his lungs, as if it were his only connection to the tangible world.

The cold, sterile breath of the air around him felt strangely distant, almost alien. All he felt was exhaustion. Then he slowly opened his eyes, adjusting to his surroundings.

He was exhausted. His entire body ached, as if every muscle, every joint, had carried an invisible weight for centuries. The ceiling seemed to move above him, but it was only an illusion. He knew he was on a moving gurney, though the floor was too far away, too abstract for him to care. He lowered his gaze with heavy effort, and what he saw didn't surprise him at all.

Handcuffs.

Of course. What else had they expected? After all, he was Shinji Ikari, the Third Child. The one who had brought chaos to the world—or so they liked to say. But they couldn't blame him. Not really. Spending too much time alone in a pressurized capsule in space... well, expecting someone to come back mentally sound was almost wishful thinking. And the weapons, the violence... all of it was just a reflection of that fear that had stalked him, crouched in the corners of his mind, even when everything seemed calm.

The soldiers... the scientists. He had killed them. Yes, he remembered that. It hadn't been his intention, but it felt as though the memory belonged to someone else. He had simply acted. And now they were dead.

The hands that had taken lives—the same ones now trembling slightly beneath the cuffs—no longer felt like his own. If he had the time, maybe he would apologize. Maybe. But there was nothing left except the echo of those moments, fading before they could take shape.

He decided he shouldn't dwell on it.

Minutes later, a girl entered the room. Short, nervous, wearing an expression that tried to be cheerful, though her eyes betrayed her. When she saw him awake, she stopped short, as if his presence were an imminent threat. She clutched a small communicator with trembling hands. Shinji watched her in silence, recognizing something familiar in her. Toji's face flashed through his mind, a blurry glimmer among clouds he couldn't quite disperse. It was his sister. What was her name? Forget it—it didn't matter now.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Shinji murmured, his voice more tired than serious. The words barely came out with enough strength.

The girl said nothing, but she didn't scream, which was more than he had expected. She stayed there, staring at him, caught between fear and curiosity, as if she didn't know whether to step closer or run away. Something inside him almost made him laugh, but he suppressed the urge. The exhaustion weighed too heavily.

He wasn't surprised when the death squad arrived, armed and ready, surrounding him as if they were guarding a wild animal. He rolled his eyes and closed his lids again. He needed to sleep. If only he could have that...

The transport was clumsy, uncomfortable. The gurney's wheels squeaked, one of them jamming at every step, as if someone were pushing it halfheartedly. He noticed how they did it on purpose, how they reveled in his discomfort. Or maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him. It didn't matter. Nothing did. The cold breeze brushing against his bare skin reminded him of how exposed he was, but even that felt distant.

The soldiers aimed at him—eight in total—their weapons fixed on him as if he could unleash chaos at any moment. But Shinji felt nothing. No fear, no anxiety, not even the anger that used to burn in the pit of his stomach. It was all gone, drowned in the darkness that had accompanied him for so long. There was something about emptiness that made you immune to fear. Or maybe he simply no longer cared enough to be afraid.

"Cardiovascular functions appear stable," an impersonal medical voice said. "No signs of muscular atrophy, although he shows better physical condition than in his last evaluation. In addition to aging differently from the other active pilots."

Shinji already knew that. His body had grown in that void. He had left at nearly fifteen and returned at twenty-eight. His hair had kept growing, enough to become a nuisance, so he had found a loose piece of metal and cut it himself. And the beard... he hadn't cared about the small cuts, as long as nothing on his face reminded him of Gendo. His dark circles were as deep as he had imagined they would be. So dark and pronounced that, if it weren't for his foul mood, he might have laughed and heard Toji's or Kensuke's mocking voice saying he looked like a raccoon.

He returned to his familiar silence and to his experience in space, without any kind of hunger.

He never asked why she did it. Why, when everything else abandoned him, she didn't. And when she showed him what she had lived through—the sensations, the memories trapped in a corner of the EVA—she was supposed to comfort him, to show him something that would let him see beauty in all of it. But instead of peace, he felt only resentment. And he clung to it, because it was all he had left.

"No, keep his eyes closed," another voice announced, closer this time.

Someone pried his eyelids open roughly, the beam of a flashlight blinding him for a second. The world shrank to that white flash burned into his vision. He wanted to pull away, but he didn't have the energy to resist. When the light finally disappeared, he closed his eyes again. He just wanted everything to fade away.

"Can you understand what I'm saying to you?"

It was the girl's voice again—small, insistent. She sounded worried. Maybe even genuine. But he had no space left to deal with that.

"Go away," he murmured, with barely enough strength in his voice for her to hear. He was already tired of people and wanted to avoid hurting anyone else with his words.

"Speak clearly, he appears to be conscious," someone else replied—probably a doctor.

Shinji growled, irritated.

"That's subjective..."

They should have left him alone. He knew they wouldn't find anything—not after everything he had already lost. The questions were just a formality, as if they expected the answers to change something. But for him, nothing changed. Everything remained the same: the lies, the accusations, the silence of space.

The intermittent flicker of the lights told him she was leaning over him again, but he refused to open his eyes. He didn't want to face what was coming. Whatever she needed to ask him right now wasn't worth answering. Part of him longed for her to simply disappear, but he knew that wasn't possible.

"Do you recognize this person?"

"Probably. Now go away." The response left his lips colder than he had intended. He should have been kinder; the girl seemed genuinely cordial, and a pang of guilt struck him at the thought that maybe she deserved better treatment. But the loneliness surrounding him was a familiar shadow he didn't know how to shake off.

"I need you to open your eyes, please."

He sighed, feeling trapped between hopelessness and the need for connection. Giving in to her request was a small step toward the outside world—a world he feared so much. When he opened his eyes, he found himself facing a more mature face. It was exactly how he knew his father would look at his age, and he hated it. The line of his jaw was identical, and seeing it made a knot form in his stomach. His hair, a little longer down to his shoulders, was dark brown with tips of a strange silvery color. Those deep steel-blue eyes had witnessed more loneliness than any of the crew members could imagine, yet their shape recalled the gentleness his mother used to show.

Shinji Ikari, Third Child, Pilot of Evangelion Unit-01.

What a fiasco, right?

"Oh yes, that's Shinji Ikari. Now can you let him sleep?"

His eyes drifted downward, settling on the collar hanging from his neck. He recognized the black-and-red band immediately; one of Naoko Akagi's annoying experiments, and her daughter must have finished it. If he had the time, he would take it off—but part of him knew he couldn't escape his situation that easily.

"I need a direct answer," the girl insisted.

"Sorry, I'm not in the mood to play twenty questions," he replied coldly, wishing his voice sounded firmer than he felt.

"I can't get a direct answer," she said, presumably speaking to someone on the other end of her communicator.

As the silence grew heavier, Shinji felt a storm of emotions swirling inside him: sadness, confusion, and above all, a deep longing for connection—one he had always feared. Was it even possible for him to ever truly be seen, or was he doomed to remain nothing more than a shadow of himself?

Misato entered shortly after, her presence more like a shadow than something physical. It didn't matter anymore. He didn't see her the way he used to. She had faded, blurred along with the memories of what had once been important. All that remained was the feeling of something broken beyond repair. Even when they removed the handcuffs, he felt no relief. The collar still weighing on his neck was more than enough to remind him that, one way or another, he was still a prisoner.

"Shinji Ikari, may we call you that?" Misato's voice was distant, cold, stripped of any emotion—as if the words weren't hers, as if she were only repeating them out of obligation.

"Katsuragi Misato," he replied, just as cold, but tinged with bitterness. It wasn't even an accusation. Just... resignation.

For a second, he felt a shadow—something deeper than anger. He remembered her words. Her voice, breaking that time, asking him for something she never should have asked. And then the silence. The same voice that had led him to that point. To the void.

The sound of an alarm pulled him from his thoughts. Emergency. Again.

Shinji looked up at the ceiling, as if the emergency were written in the air itself. Red lights flashed, alerting everyone except him. There was nothing left that concerned him.

"Another Angel..." he murmured, as if it were an old joke that had long since stopped being funny.

He watched the others running back and forth, taking positions, coordinating what little remained of them. Chaos unfolded, but it all felt like an empty pantomime. Asuka. Unit-02. Echoes of the past seeped into the edges of his consciousness, but there was nothing left that truly tied him to that world. There was nothing to save.

He rose from the gurney, feeling his muscles protest at the movement. At least that was real—a tangible reminder that he was still alive. He surveyed the scene around him, the cold structure enclosing him, and the vastness of what was to come loomed over him like an ominous shadow. The question echoed in his mind, unheard by anyone else: was it worth going on?

In the distance, EVA-02 swam through the void, a titan amid flashes of light tearing through the darkness, like a lighthouse in the middle of a storm.

The bustle around him continued unabated, as if he weren't really there. Crew members moved with urgency, but Shinji remained where he was, watching them come and go in a kind of apathetic trance. Everything descended into chaos; emergency lights flickered, bathing the room in a sickly red that seemed to mirror the state of his own heart. Shouts and orders overlapped, but to him it was all a distant echo—a symphony of desperation in which he could find no place.

Misato didn't bother to look at him. There were no words of encouragement, no direct order for him to do anything. By now, Shinji had accepted it: to her, he was nothing more than a broken piece. Not even a pilot—just a prisoner bound to his fate. A castoff, drifting aimlessly in a sea of machines and combat. He stood at the edge of the stage, and he preferred it that way.

He gave Misato one last look as she continued speaking into the microphone without sparing him a single glance. Her glasses hid any trace of emotion. That didn't surprise him. When was the last time those eyes had met his? He couldn't even remember. A soft scoff escaped his lips, barely a mocking whisper.

"Mother, please... help them..." The thought crossed his mind, an empty plea devoid of strength. A mockery of what desperation once had been. Now it was just a shadow of its former self. She was always there, in the back of his mind, but what had once been comfort now felt like yet another prison. Sometimes he thought she had shown him too much, stripped his psyche bare to the point where he could feel nothing but... this abyss.

And just then, as his mind sank deeper into exhaustion, Unit-02 entered his field of vision. It was... swimming? What the hell was this thing?

Shinji blinked, trying to process what he was seeing. A ship? Were they in the middle of the ocean now? The questions passed through his mind so quickly he didn't even bother looking for answers. At this point, everything he saw made the same amount of sense: none.

"All right..." he murmured to himself as he instinctively clenched his fist. If I were alone..., he thought. If it were just me here, maybe all of this would be different. But he dropped the thought instantly, letting it fall before it could take root.

The room's lights shifted to a darker tone as Misato's voice continued, issuing orders without pause. He didn't listen, of course. She was just talking, shouting, never directing a single word at him. At least they're not asking for my help. He wasn't anyone's pilot anymore, and deep down, he was grateful for that. He didn't want to be.

The structure surrounding the room began to move, the hum of hydraulic actuators filling the space with a heavy rumble. Shinji grabbed a nearby railing more out of reflex than necessity, noticing the seats beginning to rise. The view changed. Blue sky replaced the reddened environment that had surrounded him until now. Heading up into the sky? He almost wanted to ask what they were trying to do, but the answer felt irrelevant.

A pink-haired girl stood near him, struggling to stay upright. He barely paid attention until the room lurched again, sending several guards flying into the wall like rag dolls. Who the hell is at the helm of this thing? he wondered as his fingers tightened around the railing. Everything shook, and Shinji saw the lights flicker faster, as if even the system itself were on the verge of collapse.

Artificial gravity had failed. Or so someone was shouting. Why didn't that surprise him?

Shinji let go of the railing for a moment, weighing his options. He could fix this mess... or take advantage of the chaos to disappear.

A difficult choice. His lips twisted into a bitter smile. He knew the second option was infinitely more tempting, but something inside him—a small spark he hated to acknowledge—made the decision for him. Come on, Shinji, let's give them one last surprise... because I'm so fucking generous.

With a quick movement, he bent his knees, used the railing to propel himself, and launched toward the nearest console. The guards were too busy being thrown around the room to stop him. He crossed the distance between the failing control systems and grabbed onto a computer. The code glowed on the screen like a series of question marks; to everyone else, it probably was. To him, they were just problems that could be fixed. Or made worse, depending on his mood.

An unconscious girl—probably the pink-haired one—lay beside the console. Her hair floated as if they were in some surreal dreamscape. Shinji didn't even look at her twice before getting to work. Thanks, Mom, for the decoding lessons. His fingers flew across the keyboard, unraveling the system's complexities as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Just as he was about to finish, Misato's voice cut in again, this time closer.

"Ikari! Cease your actions! That's an order!"

Shinji felt his blood boil. An order? After everything? She hadn't even bothered to look at him, hadn't cared what he was doing, but suddenly she wanted control—issuing commands as if he were still her obedient pilot.

"Fuck you!" The words burst from his lips before he could stop them, filled with fury that had been building for far too long. He turned his head toward where Misato stood and, without thinking twice, raised his middle finger at her.

"You and your damn orders can go to hell!" he shouted, his voice breaking between rage and bitterness.

The entire bridge seemed to freeze for a second. Every eye in the room turned toward him, but Shinji felt nothing. The void was still there, and it was enough.

Misato didn't return his gaze. Not even a blink. The gesture was swallowed by her cold indifference, and that only fueled his anger further.

Clinging to the computer, he began reviewing the activation and operation codes. They were idiots if they thought their security was impenetrable. Ikari Yui's genius surpassed theirs, and he silently thanked her for implanting thousands of hours of computer decoding into him. The program was garbage, riddled with more holes than he liked. The mechanism data had issues too, and unless someone actively helped improve it, it wouldn't function as well as his knowledge allowed. There was even a small tracking file he recognized as SEELE's handiwork—one those idiots hadn't managed to remove. It took him a few minutes to create and install a new program. He also removed the worm from the software. It took him no more than five minutes to build a firewall using part of SEELE's own malware as a base.

The gravitational system returned to normal shortly after. The soldiers, finally hitting the floor, surrounded him again, weapons raised, tense, waiting for him to make a wrong move.

Shinji looked at them indifferently.

"So..." he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "where's my cell? Or would you rather I fix something else? Because, honestly, I'm getting bored."

Shinji sat uncomfortably on the cold plastic chair they had given him—a cheap, rigid piece of furniture that seemed to fit perfectly with the emotional void surrounding him. The room was small, with white walls and a crimson-colored floor, a disturbing contrast. Ironic, he thought; that reddish tone evoked blood, a symbolic reflection of the chaos and guilt hanging over his head.

He looked down, his eyes fixed on the floor, while a young woman—Suzuhara?, he thought absently—watched him with visible concern. It was a feeling he barely recognized anymore. He was too exhausted, his mind too saturated to deal with the pity of someone who didn't even really know him.

He was trying to stay calm, not to explode, not to lose control... again. But the exhaustion in his body and soul wasn't helping. He had thought he could endure this interrogation—or whatever they were about to do to him—but no. He felt like he could snap at any moment. He didn't want to face these people, not after everything they had done. Not after what they had done to him.

He clenched his fists tightly over his knees, trying to contain the frustration building inside him. It was worse than the first time he'd been a pilot. Back then, at least, there had been fear, uncertainty... now there was only cold resignation and a simmering anger he didn't know how to control.

"A-are you Toji's sister?" Shinji asked suddenly, breaking the awkward silence. His voice sounded strange, as if it didn't quite belong to him.

The girl—Sakura Suzuhara—jumped slightly in her seat, letting out a small, nervous squeak. For the first time in what felt like hours, Shinji smiled, though it was more reflex than genuine emotion.

"M-my name is Sakura... I'm his younger sister," she replied hesitantly, giving a small bow as if formality might ease the heavy air filling the room.

Shinji watched her for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

"You don't have to be so formal with me," he murmured, his voice barely audible, tired. "Toji was a good friend... well, he was while we were in school." He rubbed his cheek, remembering how Toji had punched him at first. "Yeah, we got off on the wrong foot." A soft laugh escaped him, tinged with nostalgia. "It was a bit of both our faults. And I wouldn't change it for anything."

Sakura offered an awkward smile, as if she didn't quite know how to respond. She still looked shy—or maybe she was just like that around him. Can't blame her, Shinji thought. Who would want to be near me?

He stopped paying attention to the uncomfortable silence and instead began fiddling with the collar around his neck, that symbol of his imprisonment. The DSS collar. He touched it with his fingers, as if he could remove it just by willing it so. Akagi Naoko—Ritsuko's mother—had designed that damned control device. His mother, Yui, had always despised it; Naoko's inventions went beyond morality, but Yui tolerated them because they were necessary... at the time. Now it was just another cheap tool for control.

He forced himself to push those thoughts away. If he kept focusing on the collar, he'd lose control—and he knew avoiding that was the only thing he could do.

The door to the room opened, breaking the tension in the air. Ritsuko Akagi entered, carrying the same methodical indifference she always did. She stopped in front of the bulletproof glass panel separating Shinji from the rest of the world. She removed her olive-green coat and sat down with a laptop in hand. She was dressed simply, but everything about her presence radiated professional coldness. Shinji couldn't help feeling that, to her, he was nothing more than another experiment to be monitored.

Shortly after, Misato entered the room. Shinji didn't even need to look at her to feel her presence. This wasn't the Misato he had once known. This version was colder, more calculating, more... distant. She leaned against the wall without sparing him a second glance.

"Any anomalies detected?" Misato asked, her voice hollow, devoid of emotion.

Akagi, typing on her laptop without looking up, shook her head.

"None," she replied almost mechanically. "However, I'm still reviewing the twelve seconds during which Unit-01 reactivated."

"That's why we have the DSS choker," Misato said indifferently.

Of course. The choker, Shinji thought, clenching his fists again. That's all they care about. Controlling me. Because I'm dangerous, right?

His gaze fell on Misato, and even though she wasn't looking at him, Shinji could feel the distance between them growing. She had been like a mother to him—now it was as if she saw him as a stranger, or worse, an enemy.

Akagi, still focused on her screen, began reading from a sheet of notes in front of her.

"What's the last thing you remember, Shinji?" she asked without preamble. The use of his name, rather than "Ikari" or "Third Child," didn't go unnoticed. Something had changed.

Shinji let the question hang in the air for a moment. He closed his eyes and, for an instant, let the memories pull him under. The void of space. The silence. The isolation. He didn't want to talk about it—but he knew he had no choice.

"Black..." he finally murmured, his voice dragging. "Absolute darkness."

Akagi continued typing without pause. Misato remained where she was, unmoving. Shinji didn't even bother searching her face for emotion. He knew he wouldn't find any.

"Would you mind giving more details?" Akagi asked, her tone still clinical, as if this were all routine.

Shinji let out a bitter laugh, humming softly to himself.

"Should I?" he replied without bothering to look at her. "I don't think I want to..."

Ritsuko typed a bit more, then changed the subject, aware she wouldn't get anything else from that line of questioning.

"What do you remember about your battle against Zeruel?"

Shinji raised an eyebrow. Zeruel. He knew what she meant, but the name no longer mattered. Just empty words.

"Zeruel?" he repeated with feigned curiosity, slouching back in the chair.

Ritsuko lifted an eyebrow and corrected herself.

"Sorry. I meant the Tenth Angel."

Shinji forced a smile. That battle... did it really matter what he remembered? It didn't seem like it. Just another protocol.

"Oh, that," he said at last, sitting up a bit straighter, as if suddenly interested—though he wasn't at all. "Sure. I know what you're talking about."

Ritsuko kept typing, but Shinji could feel the gazes of all three women on him, as if they were evaluating him, analyzing him. Typical.

"I'll repeat the question," Akagi said. "What do you remember about your battle against Zeruel?"

Shinji sighed and replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Before or after I was stabbed?"

Akagi's confusion was obvious, both in her expression and in the way her typing stopped. Misato tensed. Sakura, who had remained silent, stared at him wide-eyed.

Ritsuko turned toward him, genuinely puzzled.

"What do you mean by that?"

Shinji couldn't help it. He burst into laughter, which quickly turned manic. The sound bounced off the walls, echoing through the small room. It was as if everything had reached a breaking point and, instead of collapsing, simply exploded into hollow laughter. He leaned forward in his chair, laughing as if it were all a joke only he understood.

"Seriously?! This is rich coming from you people!" he exclaimed between laughs, his body shaking. "I can't believe this!"

"Ikari!" Misato shouted sharply. "What are you talking about?"

Still laughing, Shinji raised one hand as if asking for a pause.

"Oh god, this is too much... seriously, I'm gonna piss myself," he said, almost in tears, as his laughter slowly faded.

"Shinji!" Misato snapped, her patience visibly exhausted.

It took him a moment, but Shinji finally calmed down. He returned to a normal posture in the chair, though the bitter smile still lingered on his face.

"You really don't know anything, do you?" he asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm—but beneath it lay deep sadness.

He saw the looks of disbelief fixed on him, especially Sakura's; she probably understood the least of what was happening. Then his expression changed. The smile vanished, leaving only disdain.

"They sent me into space. Me. An innocent," he said, venom coating every word. "And you didn't even bother to check who was actually to blame."

He watched the three women stare at him in silence. And that silence... that damned silence made his blood boil.

"I'm not an idiot," he continued, his tone rising. "Not stupid enough to believe I caused the destruction of this world." He turned toward Sakura, his voice turning ironic. "Guess what, dear Sakura? I was stabbed before I could even start Third Impact. Stabbed. And I was inside Eva-01 the whole time while all this disaster happened."

His voice grew sharper, more sarcastic, as he raised his arms in a theatrical gesture, as if unveiling a truth only he could see.

"Oh yes! I was there—but I wasn't the one who caused it. It was SEELE. It was Lilith. It was everything you didn't understand and didn't want to stop."

The echo of his words reverberated through the room as Katsuragi and Akagi stared at him in shock, the truth emerging on the horizon of their awareness.

Shinji breathed heavily, feeling the air in the room grow thicker as his words lingered, steeped in bitter hatred and a sorrow he couldn't hide. The three women watched him, unable to find a response to the emotional storm he had unleashed. The echo of his accusations still rang out, but the silence that followed felt even more deafening, as if the world itself had stopped to absorb the magnitude of his pain. Despite the fury boiling inside him, what prevailed was overwhelming fatigue. All of this... for what? he wondered, caught between the desire to be heard and the crushing sense that his struggle was leading nowhere.

He kept staring at Misato, waiting for a response—anything. Something that would break that damned silence. But Misato remained there, still, unmoving, as if his words hadn't touched her, as if the pain carved into Shinji's face meant nothing to her.

Shinji let his arms fall to his sides, and his voice trembled when he spoke again—softer now, but laden with unfathomable sorrow.

"They locked me inside a sarcophagus... and decided my fate without even letting me say a single word." His tired, hollow eyes fixed on Misato. "I saw you, Misato... I saw you..." His voice broke when he said her name, like a distant echo of everything she had once meant to him. "And you did nothing."

Misato took a step forward, as if she wanted to say something, but the words caught in her throat. Shinji clenched his teeth, and when he spoke again, his tone turned sharper.

"You stayed there, waiting. Listening while they blamed me for crimes I didn't commit. You stayed there... waiting for them to condemn me."

Misato's silence—the weight of her inaction—hit him harder than any accusation ever could. He had expected so much from her. He had hoped for... something. But all he received was indifference. No defense. No words for him. Only distance.

"You never defended me. Not once." His fists trembled—not with rage, but with the pain burning in his chest. "You just listened. You just waited. You let me fall, knowing I didn't do any of the things they accused me of." He stepped closer to the glass, his eyes locked onto hers, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. "It was easier, wasn't it? Letting them blame me. Because you... didn't want to accept that part of all this was your fault too."

Misato finally raised her gaze, but all she saw was Shinji's empty expression—eyes red from exhaustion, from accumulated pain, from anger he could no longer express. Despite everything, he wasn't crying. He had no tears left.

"If I hadn't been there, none of you would have survived," Shinji continued, his voice dripping with disdain. "You know that, Misato. No one but you survived a near impact—thanks to that special shelter that let you walk away alive. Do you remember how you screamed, begging me not to give up? Telling me to save Rei... Tell me, Misato—how could you forget that?" His last words were barely audible, heavy with sorrow.

Misato stood petrified. Every word Shinji spoke struck directly at her conscience. She wanted to speak, wanted to say something—anything—but she couldn't. The horror on her face was unmistakable. His words pierced through the cold shell she had built around herself to shield her from the truth.

"I... I..." Misato tried to speak, but her voice broke before she could form anything coherent. She looked away, unable to bear Shinji's gaze. Guilt was written all over her face, but there were no words that could undo the damage she had caused.

Shinji tapped the glass lightly with his knuckles, almost unconsciously. His words were bitter, but no longer furious. He was beyond anger.

"I didn't forget anything from that day..." Shinji said, his voice shaking, his gaze distant. "I carry it all right here—in my head. Your screams. Your voice, begging me not to give up, telling me to keep going. But in the end, you left me... and you condemned me."

A single heartbeat of silence filled the room. And then—a tear. Shinji's only tear slid slowly down his cheek, silent, unrestrained, tracing a path along his fatigue-worn face. He didn't wipe it away. He didn't hide it. It was the only tear he had left to give—the last fragment of humanity still clinging to him.

Misato, pale and tense, stepped closer to the glass, her hand trembling. The pressure in her chest was unbearable, but the words still wouldn't come. Everything Shinji had said was true—and she knew it.

"Shinji..." Misato finally whispered, pressing her forehead against the glass, aligning her hand with his, still resting against the cold surface. "I always thought about you... I always wanted to protect you, but... I couldn't. I couldn't do it the right way."

Shinji let out a broken, bitter laugh.

"Great way of showing it..." His voice sounded hollow, as if there was nothing left to say.

Misato tried to respond, but Shinji cut her off with a raw, anguished shout:

"You could have looked for another way! You could have done more!"

"I tried!" Misato shouted back in desperation—but Shinji silenced her with his own cry.

"It wasn't enough!"

The room fell into suffocating silence after that scream. Shinji gasped for air, feeling his emotions spill over, the pressure inside him finally cracking. His jaw was clenched tight, his teeth grinding under the weight of years of frustration.

"You left me, Misato..." Shinji sobbed, his hands falling limp at his sides. "You left me there—alone, in space... alone for fourteen years. All I wanted was to save someone. All I did was try to save Rei, and because of that..." A broken laugh escaped his lips. "Is that why I deserve this fate? Was that my sin—for trying to be human?"

Misato opened her mouth to answer, but before she could speak, the door slammed open. A flash of red burst into the room.

Asuka.

The air remained thick, heavy with silent pressure that strangled any attempt at calm. After everything he had said to Misato, Shinji struggled to find something—anything—to keep himself standing, a fragile thread to cling to what little remained of him. And then, like a storm given form, Asuka entered—and everything shifted.

Fury made flesh, Shinji thought. Yet her presence stirred something else within him, something beyond anger. A turbulent mix of emotions he barely understood—a spark lighting the darkest corners of his mind.

She looked the same.

Fourteen years, and she hadn't changed at all. Still beautiful. Brown hair like autumn leaves, a neat cap resting atop her head. The only blemish was the patch on her face.

"Brat!" she shouted, glaring at him with contempt. "Still at it? Crying over what happened again? Can't you stop playing the victim for once, Shinji?"

Shinji lifted his head, surprised. Seeing her standing there—alive, breathing—made him feel something unfamiliar, if only for a second. At least Asuka is alive, he thought. The disaster didn't take her.

But who was she calling a brat? He wasn't a child anymore.

He tried to take a deep breath, to steady himself, but Asuka gave him no room. Her personality hadn't changed either.

"Nothing to say, brat? Or are you going to keep hiding like always?" she continued, venom dripping from her voice. "This is all your fault, Shinji! If you hadn't tried to save that doll—if you hadn't let your fears consume you—none of this would have happened. You're a coward. You always were!"

Shinji closed his eyes, his hands trembling. Asuka's words weren't new—but her relentless accusations, her hatred... he couldn't endure it anymore. He opened his mouth, his voice breaking even as he tried to sound steady.

"Asuka... you don't understand. I never wanted things to turn out like this. I didn't want to lose anyone." His voice faltered. "I just tried to do the right thing—to save Rei... and to save all of you."

Asuka stared at him with a mix of fury and disdain. Save us. To her, those words were a joke. She stepped closer to the glass separating them.

"Save us?" she scoffed. "Don't make me laugh! It was always about you! Everything you did was for yourself—to ease your guilt, to stop feeling useless. It was never about us. If you had stayed put, if you had done nothing, the world wouldn't be destroyed, Shinji. You destroyed it!"

Those words hit him harder than any punch ever could. He had hoped for something different from Asuka—something beyond hatred—but no. She hadn't changed. And he... he couldn't take it anymore.

"You don't understand, Asuka!" Shinji shouted, his voice filled with desperation. "You don't understand what I saw—what I lived through! Everything I did was because... I couldn't lose you. I didn't want to lose you too!"

The confession slipped out before he could stop it. For a brief second, Asuka's eyes widened. But the surprise vanished almost instantly, replaced by something harder.

"Lose me?" she sneered. "It's too late for that, Shinji. You lost me the day you chose to do nothing when we needed you most. You always hide—always hide behind others so you don't have to face reality. You're pathetic!"

Shinji, exhausted and desperate, struggled to hold himself together. One more word. One more breath. He didn't want it to end like this—but Asuka kept pushing, tearing him apart with every sentence.

"Do something for once!" Asuka screamed, slamming her fist against the glass, her hand shaking with rage. "Do something, you useless piece of shit!"

That was it. That word—that blow—shattered the fragile barrier inside Shinji. Something broke, something he had kept restrained for far too long. His eyes, once empty, ignited with a cold, restrained fury Asuka hadn't expected.

With a sudden motion, Shinji stood up, his face set in terrifying calm. The rage he had buried for years finally began to spill out. He stepped toward the glass, fists clenched. There was no turning back.

"Alright, Asuka..." Shinji murmured, his voice sounding more like a threat than a reply. "I'll do something."

Before Asuka could react, Shinji drove his fist into the glass. The impact thundered through the room. Cracks spread instantly, branching like a spiderweb across the barrier.

Asuka stumbled back, startled. She hadn't expected this. The Shinji she knew wasn't capable of this.

He struck the glass again—harder this time. The cracks deepened. Everything was on the verge of collapse, and Shinji knew it.

"Shinji! Stop!" Misato screamed from the corner of the room—but her words meant nothing now. It was too late.

With one final blow, the glass shattered. Fragments exploded across the room, and before anyone could react, Shinji lunged at Asuka. His hands closed around her neck with a fury even he hadn't known he possessed.

Asuka struggled, but Shinji held her with inhuman strength. Hatred, pain, and despair fused in his movements, clouding his mind and consuming him in uncontrollable rage.

The sound of shattered glass still echoed through the room. Asuka lay on the floor, unconscious, her body limp after the brutal strangulation. Shinji's face, cut by glass shards, was flushed red. The single tear he had shed had long dried—but his glassy, empty eyes spoke louder than words ever could.

Shinji breathed heavily, his hands trembling from what he had just done. Asuka... he had tried to save her, to explain—but words had always failed between them. All that remained now was silence... and the echo of his fury.

He slowly turned toward Misato and Ritsuko, who stared at him in horror and confusion. They too had failed to see him—to understand the pain that had consumed him for so long. Now that suffering was spilling out, unstoppable.

Misato took a step toward him, trembling, yet still wrapped in the same coldness she had shown since they reunited.

"Shinji..." she whispered, fear evident in her voice. "Please... stop."

Stop. A word that once might have reached him. Now, it meant nothing.

"Stop..." Shinji echoed softly, almost mockingly. "Now you want me to stop? After everything you did—after everything you let me go through..." His voice cracked, but there were no tears left.

Ritsuko, still wearing her clinical, detached expression, tried to intervene.

"Shinji, I know you're angry, but... you need to calm down." Her tone was professional, distant—as if she were addressing a test subject.

That was it. That coldness. That indifference.

Shinji's shoulders dropped for a brief second—and then, in a calculated motion, he lunged at her. Before Ritsuko could react, a precise blow to her sternum sent her collapsing to the floor, unconscious.

Misato froze as she watched her companion fall. Shinji turned toward her, and for a moment, time itself seemed to stop. She had once been someone precious to him—someone he had loved like a mother. Now, all she saw in his eyes was pain, betrayal, and an ever-growing void.

Misato slowly raised her hands, as if calming a wild animal.

"Shinji..." she whispered. "You don't have to do this."

Shinji looked at her—eyes lifeless, exhausted. He had once had so much to say to her, but the words were gone. Nothing remained between them except the echo of what they once were.

"It doesn't matter what you say anymore, Misato," Shinji said emptily as he advanced. "What you wanted to say... what you wanted to do... it doesn't mean anything now."

Before Misato could do anything else, Shinji struck her with the same cold precision. Her body fell gently to the floor—just as calmly as the blow had been delivered.

Then Shinji turned to Sakura Suzuhara, the only one still conscious. She had remained still the entire time—too terrified to move, too frightened to speak. Her eyes were filled with fear, but also compassion. There was no hatred in her. Shinji knew he couldn't leave her conscious after everything she had witnessed.

He walked slowly toward her, his movements less tense now—almost serene, as if everything were finally over. Sakura stepped back slightly, her breathing shallow, but she didn't try to run. She knew there was no escape.

"Sakura..." Shinji murmured, his voice softer than it had been with the others. Something about her stirred the last trace of humanity left in him. She didn't hate him. She didn't blame him.

"Sh-Shinji-kun..." Sakura stammered, unable to find the right words.

He stopped in front of her. His eyes were gentler now—still exhausted, still heavy, but no longer burning with fury.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered. "I don't want to hurt you. Not you."

Sakura glanced at the unconscious bodies around her, understanding what was coming. Somehow, she knew Shinji wouldn't hurt her the same way.

"Close your eyes..." he said gently—gentler than he had been with anyone else.

Sakura obeyed. A single tear slid down her cheek. Before fear could take hold, Shinji moved quickly and carefully, striking the base of her neck with just enough force to knock her unconscious—precise, restrained, merciful.

Her body sank softly to the floor, her breathing calm, as if she were asleep. There was no pain on her face.

Shinji stood there for a moment, staring at the unconscious bodies of the four women who, in one way or another, had shaped his life. Asuka. Ritsuko. Misato. Sakura. All of them were down now—and he... was alone.

The silence that followed was almost comforting. The room, once overflowing with tension and raw emotion, was now utterly still. Everything was calm—but inside Shinji, only the echo of emptiness remained. He had released his rage, his frustration—and nothing had changed. The void was still there, larger than ever.

He looked down at his hands, stained with blood from the cuts left by the shattered glass. He clenched them tightly for a moment, then let them fall to his sides.

"It's over..." he murmured to himself, though he wasn't sure what that meant.

Shinji slowly turned toward the open door Asuka had entered through. He was done here—for now. He needed to find his next step, but all he felt was profound exhaustion, the kind that hollowed him out from the inside.

The emptiness of space was absolute, but inside Eva-01, Shinji was not completely alone. Yui was there—though not in the physical way he had once wished for.

His mother...

She wasn't trying to manipulate him or control him, the way Gendo had. All she wanted was to save him, to protect him from the cruel fate the world seemed determined to force upon him.

Shinji knew it. He had felt it during those endless months trapped in silence and weightlessness. Yui had shown him her memories, her thoughts, her hopes. At some point—perhaps hoping her son would find comfort, that he would understand everything she had done was for him. Not for Gendo. Not for NERV or SEELE. Only for him. So he could live a full life—a life where he would be safe, free from the dark shadow that was his father.

But the effect had been the opposite.

Every image his mother showed him, every memory of a happy moment, only deepened his resentment. Yui had been a good person—someone who truly wanted the best for him. But that wish had been doomed from the start. Her sacrifice, her plan to protect him, had only chained him to a destiny he could never escape.

Shinji remembered the first images Yui showed him as he drifted through space. Her laughter. Her warmth. That gentle smile he hadn't seen since he was a child. He remembered the little things: sunny afternoons in the park, moments when his mother held him and told him everything would be okay. Promises made from the heart. And yet, those promises felt like knives now, cutting deeper and deeper into his soul.

Because even though Yui had wanted to protect him, everything else had gone terribly wrong. His father, Gendo, had manipulated everything—turning those memories into a battlefield between maternal love and the cold control of his own selfishness. And worst of all, Yui, in her desperation to save Shinji, couldn't see how those memories were destroying him.

The pain was almost unbearable.

"Mom..." he would sometimes murmur, alone in the frozen void of Eva-01. "Mom... this doesn't help me anymore..."

She couldn't hear him. Or if she could, she didn't understand. She wanted him to cling to those happy moments, to remember that he was loved—but those memories only reminded him of everything he had lost. None of it mattered now. Nothing could bring back the woman who had loved him, or heal the scars Gendo had carved into his soul. And no matter how much Yui tried to guide him toward peace, all Shinji could feel was anger.

Anger toward his father for using him, for playing with him like a mere chess piece. Anger toward Misato, who had abandoned him—leaving him alone, drifting in the darkness without a second chance, without a single act of compassion. And even hatred toward himself, for allowing himself to be broken, for not being stronger.

The loneliness of space had been his punishment—but he was not the only one who deserved to pay.

WILLE.

That was the name of the place where he was trapped. Or whatever this organization called itself now. Even in his mentally exhausted state, he could see it clearly—as a desperate scream to destroy everything Gendo had created. Not just his father, but everyone who had ever supported him, everyone who had taken part in the plan, and everyone who had caused so much suffering. Everything about WILLE reeked of revenge.

"Nice way to make friends, Gendo," Shinji thought with a bitter smile. But now, in some twisted way, he felt that they hated him too. In their eyes, he had become the same as his father—a threat, a danger. And that was all that mattered to them.

As he thought about it, he adjusted the clothes he had stolen from a soldier with a similar build to his own. After knocking him out—just as he had done with the women in the interrogation room—he had stripped him of his uniform with a strange indifference. Though I'm hardly one to talk, he thought, mocking himself. He had crossed a line that night, one that made him something far worse than he had ever imagined.

The interrogation room had been the beginning of his freedom... or of his descent.

He had stolen the detonator from one of Misato's pockets and managed to remove the collar. And, in a moment of dark humor he hadn't even seen coming, he placed the collar around Ritsuko's neck. What did it matter anymore?

He searched the fallen bodies for access cards, destroying them one by one. Bureaucracy was always a bitch, he thought with disdain, and the best way to make their lives harder was to leave them without their precious cards. Curiously, he hadn't found one on Asuka. Didn't they trust her? It was strange—but not entirely surprising. Nothing in this world surprised him anymore.

As he moved around the room, he dismantled the internal surveillance system using Dr. Akagi's computer. Everything felt far too easy. He disabled the cameras and gave himself a 24-hour window—enough time to disappear before they realized what was happening.

Still, exhaustion and resentment pushed him toward something else. Something almost childish, cruel, and dark. With a pen he took from Sakura's uniform, he drew obscenities on all of them—except her. Obscenities worthy of a sailor, he thought with a bitter smile. Sakura didn't deserve that; she had been the only one in the room who had looked at him without hatred. But the rest of them—including Misato and Ritsuko—did.

When he finished, his "journey" through the place began. He left the interrogation room and found the original owner of the uniform he was wearing, hiding near a janitor's closet. He knocked him out just as easily as the others and took his clothes without a second thought. The jumpsuit fit uncomfortably—especially in the crotch—but the chest armor would be useful if things got complicated. He was grateful there were no names on the uniform. He could pass himself off as just another mechanic aboard the Wunder.

As he walked through the corridors, adjusting the blue scarf he had tied around his arm, Shinji realized that every time he sensed the presence of his Eva, he ran into a wall. The access card he had taken from one of the mechanics only granted limited clearance—mid-level access at best.

"Now then... where would my Eva be?" he murmured to himself as he kept walking.

Floating in space, inside Eva-01, his mother had tried to keep him sane. She wanted him to live, to be okay. And she tried in the only way she knew how: by showing him that, at some point, he had been loved—that there was something beyond the suffering he was enduring.

But Shinji, inside that machine, in that darkness, could only feel his anger growing and growing. His mother had tried to protect him, and everything had gone so terribly wrong. Gendo had destroyed everything; even the happy memories Yui showed him now felt empty and cold, like distant mirages.

"Mom... this doesn't help me anymore..." he whispered again, feeling resentment tighten around his chest.

The memories couldn't save him now. They only reminded him of what he no longer had.

How long had he been like this? It could have been days, weeks... or perhaps centuries. Space—the plug of Eva-01—isolated him from everything, from any sense of time or reality.

He felt the cold of the void wrapping around him, but he didn't care. He was alone. And the truth was, he had grown used to it. Floating, fading, disappearing.

Vague thoughts drifted in and out of his mind, like leaves in an endless autumn. When was the last time he had felt something? Maybe it was before all of this. Maybe it was during that single snowfall he had seen as a child. He remembered the snow falling from the sky, covering the world in a silence as dense as the one surrounding him now. A perfect silence that, at least back then, had brought him peace. Now, in this unfathomable void, that peace felt like a cruel mockery.

He would like to see it again—the snow—if this ever ended.

But that "if" was more a punishment than a hope. Did it really matter if he ended up drifting through eternity? Shinji was beginning to accept that this would be his fate. The weight of his mistakes, of his decisions, no longer crushed him. He simply floated with them, and maybe that was enough.

Maybe—just maybe—this would be his final rest. And in his weary mind, he accepted the possibility. If the void was going to consume him, he would accept it willingly. There were no more people he could fail. No more promises to break.

But fate had other plans. It always did.

Suddenly, his peaceful drift was interrupted. A flash of light. No—several. Something was disturbing his isolation. A mosaic of lights began to form, bouncing off the invisible barrier that kept him trapped. What was that? The lights looked like bubbles, warping, pulsing, and as he watched them, something inside him tightened.

"Is my mind falling apart?" he briefly thought. Was this what people felt when they died? The lights, the confusion... the desperation of a final moment.

But he didn't care. He couldn't bring himself to care anymore. Whatever came, whatever happened... fine. Let it happen.

And then he heard it. At first, it was barely a murmur, as if coming from far away, distorted by distance and pain. A voice drifting along the edge of his consciousness. And then, little by little, it became clearer.

"Do something, you damn idiot!"

His heart lurched. That voice. That anger—so familiar, so close. It was Asuka.

He felt himself being pulled toward the barrier separating him from reality, that invisible wall that had protected and imprisoned him at the same time. She needed him. His friend—the one he had never known how to face. Asuka was in danger, and she was calling him.

He tried to move, to reach out to her, to break through the barrier holding him there. It didn't matter what had happened before. It didn't matter how much hatred he carried. She needed him now.

Maya Ibuki, who had been one of the few who had not openly hated Shinji, was trapped in her own thoughts. Guilt and disappointment gnawed at her slowly. She knew that everything they had told the boy—everything they had made him believe—was a lie. An unjust sentence. But what could she do?

SEELE, Gendo, Lilith... they were the true culprits. And yet Shinji had been the sacrificial lamb in the name of convenience, cast into space by the very people who should have protected him. She had known it all along, and still she had remained silent.

As she headed toward her bunk, a thought crossed her mind. This job—saving the world—was not what she had believed it to be. It was another circle of lies, only this time WILLE had inherited the same ruthless coldness that NERV had once used against the boy.

Her thoughts shattered when she felt something cold against her neck.

A knife.

Maya almost collapsed from shock and terror, but she held herself together, her breathing uneven. She slowly turned her head, only to meet Shinji's icy gaze. This was not the Shinji she had once known. His eyes were empty, yet filled with something deeper—exhaustion, restrained fury... and a determination that frightened her.

"Shinji...-kun?" she asked, almost in a whisper, using the diminutive out of sheer habit, though now she felt the boy before her was only a shadow of who he used to be.

Shinji tilted his head slightly, his eyes locked on her. His voice was low, calm, but dangerous.

"Maya," he said, recognizing her. "I'm going to take the knife away from your throat—but only if you promise you won't scream. Understood?"

She nodded quickly, incapable of doing anything else. Her mind was flooded with questions, but none of them could come out. Shinji—a man trapped in the body of a teenager—slowly withdrew the blade.

He stepped back, and Maya obediently sat down on the edge of her bunk. The next fifteen minutes passed in an almost unbearable silence, heavy with a tension that cut the air like the knife that had just been at her neck.

Finally, Shinji spoke, his voice still carrying that icy calm.

"Do you blame me for everything?"

The question caught her off guard. Maya froze for a second, her mind scrambling for a coherent answer. Did she blame him? The others would—but she didn't. Shigeru, Makoto—they would insult him, but Maya had never been able to see Shinji as the monster everyone believed him to be. The truth was more complicated—and easier to ignore.

"I asked you a question, Maya," Shinji repeated, his tone tense, almost dangerous, his eyes flashing with impatience.

"N-no... I don't," Maya swallowed, fear tightening her voice. "I think they blamed you because... you were the most vulnerable target."

Shinji nodded, crossing his arms, his eyes dull but accepting her answer.

"Do you know where my Eva is?"

"Y-yes..." Maya replied, still trying to process the conversation. "But... they'll be looking for you, Shinji."

"That doesn't matter right now." Shinji stared at her intently. "Do you have any makeup?"

Maya blinked, confused by the question, then nodded slowly.

"Yes."

Shinji smiled—but it wasn't a comforting smile. It was resigned.

"Good." He inclined his head toward her. "Give me five minutes. And don't move—or the knife will stop being just a threat."

As Shinji prepared for the next step of his escape, Maya—still trapped in her fear—could only think about the magnitude of what was about to happen.

Shinji was no longer the same child she had once known.

Had he managed to save Ayanami?

That was the first question Shinji asked himself when he woke up.

He hoped he had. He wished he had saved her. Something inside him told him he had. Another part told him he hadn't.

He expected to see the white ceiling of NERV's infirmary, but he couldn't see anything. Everything was dark. He thought his eyes were covered and tried to remove whatever was blocking his vision, but he couldn't move. In fact...

He couldn't feel his body at all.

He tried to move his fingers, his hands—he even tried the simple act of blinking or breathing.

He could do the latter two, but they felt strange, unnatural.

As if he weren't human.

He couldn't smell anything, nor could he feel touch, yet his hearing was still there. It wasn't as sharp as he would have liked, but it was something.

He thought he must be in intensive care after the last battle with the Tenth Angel. That had to be it. He must have been gravely injured and was being treated so his damaged body could heal.

Right...

Right?

...

Dave was just a simple technician aboard the Wunder. There was nothing remarkable about him. Like everyone else, he had lost family during the Near Third Impact. He had believed that NERV would protect humanity from the Angels, but they betrayed it instead. The director's son went insane and destroyed the world according to his father's will.

Father and son were despicable.

He had been against the mission to rescue the Third Child from the very beginning. Many of his friends—and he himself—had filed a protest over it, but no one listened.

When they recovered Eva Unit–01, even more of his comrades died at the hands of the devil's child. They had only opened the hatch. They had raised their weapons as a precaution, even more so when they saw him conscious and in good physical condition.

He had obtained the hacked footage from another colleague, and calling it a slaughter would be an understatement. The boy raised his hands against his friends and tore them apart one by one. He used people as human shields to block incoming bullets and hurled tablets as improvised projectiles. His level of sadism increased the more soldiers entered to take him down. It was like one of those old splatter films his late girlfriend used to enjoy.

They had to use sleeping gas to finally capture him. Even then, he resisted to the very end, killing more guards before collapsing.

No one was allowed to enjoy beating him due to Captain Katsuragi's orders.

Dave thought it was unfair.

He had tried to sneak into the boy's room to beat him himself, but it ended in a failed plan. No one could enter the kid's room.

He would have liked to vent his rage on Makinami or Shikinami, but he couldn't do anything to them either.

He wanted to kill them all.

Many of his comrades said he was crazy—and he was—but he couldn't act the way he wanted to. It was frustrating.

He slammed his head against a pillar while smoking a cigarette, groaning in frustration.

The system went down, and he couldn't communicate with First Officer Akagi.

What was wrong with that woman?

Why did he have to follow the orders of those women?

He checked the computer for a while before growing even more frustrated and simply shutting off the monitor.

From the observation room, he looked at the beast of calamity.

He knew its original color was purple, but it was so red now that nothing of the original remained.

Cables were connected all over its body to siphon its energy and power the Wunder.

He drank some coffee and kept smoking for a while. Just as his cigarette was about to run out, the door (thankfully) opened and his superior entered—Maya Ibuki, or was it Ibuki Maya?

With her came a young man wearing a black cap and a face mask. He couldn't see any hair, but it was probably black or brown, and his eyes were closed enough that Dave couldn't tell whether he could actually see like that or not. He seemed familiar, but Dave couldn't place him. Maybe he resembled someone he had glimpsed in passing and then forgotten until now.

"Lieutenant Ibuki," he greeted her respectfully.

She was one of the few people he respected. Setting aside her involvement with NERV, she was an influential woman who had earned her place on the ship.

"Drop the formalities, Smith," she said in a relaxed tone, with an awkward smile. "You know I don't like them."

He just smirked and then looked at the other occupant.

"And who's he?"

She answered immediately.

"This is Yuusei." Her smile was a bit uncomfortable. "He's a new technician who hasn't had the chance to introduce himself yet."

Dave simply watched as the boy moved his hands through the air, unsure of what he was trying to say.

"He says it's a pleasure to meet you."

A question rose in his mind.

"You understood that?" he asked, somewhat doubtful.

"A little," she explained. "He's mute and only communicates through sign language."

Dave nodded as if he understood and picked up his empty coffee mug.

"I'd like to introduce myself properly, but there's a problem in the system and I need to go to the central terminal to check what's going on."

Lieutenant Ibuki merely dismissed him with a nod and gave Yuusei a small gesture, settling the matter.

He had to hurry and check things out, or they would be invaded by NERV and SEELE—and that was a situation no one wanted.

Maya let out a sigh as she watched her subordinate leave the chamber.

"Is the entry plug still usable?" Shinji's indifferent voice asked.

That made her flinch, and she nearly screamed from the shock.

He seemed more irritated than when he had threatened her. She wasn't going to make him angry—not when her life was hanging by a thread.

"It was replaced with a new one, in case we needed to use it."

He didn't say whether they were going to force him to pilot it, since he already knew that would be impossible.

"Does it have a tracker?"

"It does, but if you give me a little time, I can disable it for you."

She hoped he wouldn't get upset about that. She wasn't going to help talk him out of escaping. She owed him at least that much.

"That won't be necessary. I'll do it myself."

That made her blink, and she was about to stop him. He didn't know anything about coding, and she was afraid of what he might do.

"Wait—"

He didn't listen.

She didn't stop him either, bracing herself to witness the mess he was about to make.

"It's done."

That was fast!

She checked the computer screen, but she couldn't see anything.

Just as her subordinate had said, the system was down—but the boy seemed to have hacked everything anyway.

"I'll cut the connection to Eva-01 and prepare us for boarding."

Wait—he said us. Us as in... both of them?

"You don't get a vote, Miss Ibuki, and you'd better cooperate willingly. I woke up very irritated today, and I don't want to take my anger out on you."

She kept her mouth shut.

She said nothing and watched him remove his cap to put on the A-10 connectors.

She should have gone to bed earlier—or not come in until later.

Now she was a hostage to someone many considered the devil.

"Shit," was the last thing she thought.

The pain in her abdomen was unbearable.

It felt as if a small-scale wrecking ball had slammed into her stomach. She had to take several deep breaths before she could even lift her head. Looking around made it clear that everything that had happened was not a dream.

Shattered glass and the piled bodies of her people.

Thankfully, they weren't dead. But she wished she were.

She felt the sting at the corners of her eyes, and the disappointment struck her harder than the blow to her stomach.

What had she done?

What had she done to that affection-starved child?

What had she done to Shinji?

She stood up with difficulty and looked at the chair where he had been sitting.

She had expected to see a frightened, confused boy. One who wanted answers to truths she didn't know whether she should tell. One she wanted to keep ignorant and lock in a cage so he wouldn't be disturbed. Someone she could somehow give the peace she believed he needed. Because that was the real Shinji—the one she had ignored and left imprisoned.

Instead, she had seen a man weary of life.

He had grown up.

He had grown up in solitude, and it had killed him.

It had killed his innocence—and his already damaged heart.

Tears began to fall from her eyes, and she knew she had made the worst decision. As she always did. Others paid the price for her actions.

But there was no time for that now.

She had to stop Shinji. She had to stop him, or he would make a decision that could never be forgiven by what remained of humanity.

She picked up her glasses with determination, but paused for a moment when she saw the reflection in them. She blinked once before wiping her face with a handkerchief.

A small snort escaped her lips, and a trace of bitter amusement slipped through.

She wished he had acted more like a child when they lived together.

A week had passed, and nothing had changed.

He was still being swallowed by this darkness that devoured him.

He knew he was somewhere in the GeoFront. In one of the cages.

He wondered why they hadn't taken him out.

They should have. He was a pilot. A resource. They needed him. His Eva was the only one that hadn't been completely damaged. They still hadn't determined how many Angels remained. He had to go back to fight and protect his friends.

He had to get out.

"You can't, Ikari-kun," said a familiar voice.

It was Rei.

"AYANAMI!!" he shouted with all his strength. Or at least, it felt like he did.

He ignored the sound that came from his lips—from the lips of the thing he was piloting.

"WHERE ARE YOU? ARE YOU SAFE?" He couldn't stop. He had to find her. She was so close, yet so far away.

He began to hyperventilate and screamed again.

"AYANAMI!"

"I'm here, Ikari-kun," she replied.

He felt arms wrap around his neck, and he felt like he could cry.

He wanted to raise his hands and touch the arms that were comforting him.

But he couldn't. He couldn't feel his arms, and that drove him to despair.

He let himself be carried away by the pain—and the relief of being in the arms of someone he loved.

He screamed and screamed, so loudly he felt his vocal cords tearing. He wanted to rip away whatever was imprisoning him. Tear open the metal and let the monster inside him out.

He was scared.

He was losing his mind.

What was happening?

What were they doing to him?

Where was Misato?

Where was Asuka?

Where was Toji?

Kensuke.

Hikari.

His father.

Someone.

Someone tell him where he was and that everything would be okay. That he had been so badly injured they couldn't take him out yet, not until it was safe.

"I'm here, Ikari-kun," Rei said again. "You're safe. Here, with me." Rei's voice was there, trying to calm him.

To free him from that rage.

And he was there, clinging to her words. Clinging to her warmth. To her affection.

He kept crying and wanted to sleep. To fall into the embrace of oblivion and leave everything behind. To enter Morpheus's world and live the dream that had always been denied to him.

A family.

The command room was in chaos, her radio crackling with thousands of voices. All of them—familiar and unfamiliar—blending together like an orchestra of confusion.

The system had gone down.

Ritsuko had told her as soon as she woke up.

She needed time to bring everything back under control, and Maya—the only person who could truly help Ritsuko in this madhouse—was nowhere to be seen.

Until that voice.

"Lieutenant Ibuki is in the engine room with a new technician she was supposed to supervise."

That stopped her thoughts cold.

"Silence!" she shouted, trying to drown out the voices that were interfering with the one she needed to hear.

"Repeat what you just said, soldier." The entire line was confused. Who was she even addressing? "Soldier, where is Maya?"

The voice on the other end startled before answering.

"S-she's in the engine room with the Eva, ma'am," the voice said.

"With whom?" Misato pressed.

"With a new technician. He said his name was Yuusei."

Misato looked at Ritsuko and saw her shake her head in denial.

"All available units, move to the engine room. I repeat, move to the engine room," she said in a neutral tone. She couldn't let fear seep into her voice. She couldn't—if she did, everyone would fall into despair. And her next words hurt more than she cared to admit. "Shinji Ikari is in the engine room and has Lieutenant Maya Ibuki hostage. I repeat: Shinji Ikari has a hostage. Do not open fire unless I am present. Anyone who disobeys my orders will be labeled a traitor for insubordination."

She left Asuka and Sakura under Ritsuko's care and ran toward the engine room.

She needed to stop him.

She had to stop Shinji.

She heard from the central technicians that Eva-01 had been making strange noises in its confinement.

After Shinji's battle against the Tenth Angel, they had learned that those things were alive. It didn't surprise her all that much that it would make sounds.

The only saving grace was that its limbs had been removed before it was sealed away—who knew what it might do if it woke up.

What did surprise her was hearing that its cries sounded like the sobbing of a child.

Her chest tightened, and for a moment she thought it was Shinji making those sounds. That they were the desperate cries of the Third Child, begging to be released. Begging not to be left to suffer.

But that was impossible.

Shinji was dead.

He had been consumed by Eva-01, just like his mother before him.

She should have left it at that. Ignored it. Let it become old news.

They had to repair the GeoFront and reorganize the facilities to accommodate the colossal Eva Mark.06.

But the curiosity gnawing deep inside her head made her do the opposite, and she went to Eva-01's cage.

She saw the head covered in purple armor and wished she could see Shinji. Apologize to him for not giving him the help he needed. For not being able to give him the love that had been denied to him.

Her gaze was lost in the coagulated LCL. Red. As dark as blood. It wouldn't have been surprising if it truly was blood.

She drifted into her own world, ignoring the ragged breathing that stirred her hair. Ignoring the muffled sound of crying.

Only when the noise grew louder did she realize that something was wrong.

GRRR-AAAAAAAH!

The scream made her fall backward onto the floor. She covered her ears, trying to block out the piercing ringing left by the cyborg.

It screamed again.

GRRR-AAAAAAAH!!

The sound grew stronger, unbearable. She thought she could feel blood coming from her ears. No—it was her blood. She had to get out of there, quickly, or she might die from the high-frequency sound assaulting her senses.

She crawled slowly toward the exit of the cage. She ignored the mechanical beast and did not look back. She ignored the pitiful cry of the beast. She ignored the pitiful cry of the child. Her child.

She ignored the tears slipping from Eva's living eyes.

She ignored the call for help.

How much regret she would feel when she learned the truth.

Her heart would shatter into countless pieces for having abandoned the child entrusted to her care.

Because he would no longer be the Shinji-kun she once knew.

He would only be...

The devil.

Misato's legs burned as she sprinted frantically toward the ship's engine room.

She should have known.

The only place where Shinji could feel safe—even to escape—would be inside his Eva.

She wanted to deny it.

She hoped he was still that boy who refused to pilot the Eva because it hurt him too much.

Shinji shouldn't have been able to pilot it anyway. It was impossible. After all, his synchronization rate was at 0%.

That belief—that it was impossible for him to board the Eva—had to be true. But a small demon lurking in the dark corner of her mind told her she was wrong, and that she had to stop him or people would open fire.

Just as Shinji had said, they had piled every sin onto him and his father.

What other choice had they had?

They tried to deny Shinji's role in all of this. Claimed those clones weren't really him. Claimed he was still trapped inside the Eva.

And Ryoji hadn't been there to help them. He had died to save the world. His world. Her and her son.

She loved him. The world could have gone to hell for all she cared—but she wanted them to be safe. And she wanted, someday, to take Shinji out of that sarcophagus of metal and synthetic flesh.

That last thought nearly made her stumble.

Ryoji had told her Shinji was alive. That he was awake. He had appealed to the United Nations, but he was ignored and dismissed. They didn't know whether trying to extract Shinji would awaken the Eva—that was the excuse Parliament gave.

It was the second time she had seen her lover lose his mind and scream in rage. He accused the UN of being linked to SEELE, of simply wanting to eliminate an uncontrollable variable like an Eva with an operational S² Engine.

She hadn't supported him.

She should have.

It was Shinji—and she had abandoned him.

She thought sending him into space would keep him safe, but it had done far more harm than good.

She could still remember his eyes. Those black pits filled with darkness, like the abyss itself.

Where had his innocence gone?

That thought would haunt her forever.

Up until now, Shinji had avoided causing a scene.

After seeing Miss Misato run away with blood streaming from her ears, he knew he had to stay quiet when other people were around.

Everyone... everyone was so fragile.

Was that what it meant to be human?

Putting on a brave face when, in truth, they were infinitely pathetic.

And yet, he longed to be human again.

He could breathe without it feeling strange. He could explore the world around him. He could grow bored with routines that endlessly repeated themselves. He could make music. Yes—he could make music! How he missed his cello. He missed that old piece of wood. How much classical music he could play! To hell with the SDAT!

Anything that belonged to Gendo could burn. The bastard had abandoned him. It was time he abandoned him too.

There were more genres than the ones stored in that thing.

He remembered there were more modern players, with better sound quality.

He could even get a gramophone if he felt refined. There was more in the world. There were more people. There was more happiness! There was more—

Who was he kidding? He couldn't leave. He was trapped in this powerful yet caged body.

What was the point of sacrificing himself for them?

He didn't expect a thank you. Maybe a "well done." But he never expected to be abandoned in here. In this emptiness. In this loneliness.

"Hello, Shinji," echoed the only voice that ever entertained him in this solitude.

He lifted his gaze and saw the tired face of Kaji Ryoji.

He purred, letting him know he was listening—just as he always had.

The man merely smiled wearily.

Was he here to tell him about the UN's decision? Shinji hoped so. He desperately wished that were the case.

He wanted to get out of here.

He would see his friends again!

They could have fun!

They could explore!

He could be free!

He wanted to be free!

The excitement was clear in his heavy breathing. Like a puppy, waiting for its owner to pick up the leash and go for a walk.

Shinji was full of anticipation.

But Ryoji's expression told a different story. There was no happiness in it.

He walked toward him at a slow pace—so slow Shinji could feel the revolutions of the S² core.

When he stood in front of him... Shinji saw his helplessness. His lips were pressed tight, as if he hated his own mouth. His eyes were red. Tears threatened to spill from them.

He blinked and tried to steady himself. He couldn't. He rested his head against his chin and raised his hands as if trying to hug him.

"I'm sorry, Shinji," he said.

Shinji already knew it had been foolish to dream so big.

"I'm so sorry."

The breath he'd been holding in anticipation faded away. He let go of that feeling.

His head drooped lower as he tried to hold back a sob. He knew it was wrong to hope. Nothing remotely good ever happened to him. If something seemed good, it was only the prelude to his next misfortune.

His eyes burned and his head spun.

He felt Rei's warm arms around his neck. She tried to comfort him. She tried—but it was impossible. She couldn't do anything! He was trapped in this thing forever! He would never be free!

He wanted out!

He wanted to be free!

He wanted to be free!!

HE WANTED TO BE FREE!!!

GRRR-AAAAAAAH!!!!

She found many soldiers gathered outside the engine room. All of them armed, yet none willing to go in. They were all afraid. It was understandable. The devil was inside, and none of them wanted to add their bodies to the pile in the hangar where he had been taken from.

Misato moved past them without saying a word.

She faced a Shinji who ignored her. She searched for Maya with her eyes and saw her climbing into the entry plug. He didn't look at her, nor at the soldiers aiming their weapons at them.

"Shinji," she called.

The man glanced at her but said nothing. He simply waited.

Part of her felt hopeful. Hopeful that he would at least listen to her, that he wouldn't judge her. Another part of her believed he was only allowing her this whim.

None of the soldiers spoke.

Maybe they thought he wouldn't hurt them while she was there. Maybe they believed he still held some affection for her. He had left her alive when he could have killed her. She wished that were true.

"Shinji..." she called again, hands raised to show she was unarmed. This time she was in front of him, on the Eva's back—at the crossroads of a one-way journey. Everything would be decided here. Its beginning and its end.

"Did you have a plan?"

"W-what?" Misato panicked at the question.

"When you recovered me, did you have a plan? Or did you just improvise?"

"W-we had a plan!"

"Oh, really? Was it to take the most emotionally unstable man in the world, isolate him, and scold him for something he didn't do?"

"N-no!"

"Well, that's what you did, so I guess you didn't have a plan."

"Shinji! That's not how it was! I was just... we were... It was hard. Seeing you again after so long. After fourteen years and everything that happened..."

"Do you think it wasn't hard for me too?"

He looked at her then. Truly looked at her.

"Waking up suddenly and not feeling your body, being trapped for fourteen years while fully conscious. Screaming. Crying. And no one—absolutely no one—bothered to open the Eva and take me out."

Misato knew exactly what he was talking about.

And even so, she had chosen to forget it.

"Only Mr. Kaji was there for me," Shinji continued. "I didn't spend nearly as much time with him as I did with you, and he fought for my freedom. He tried to get me out. He tried to save me."

She held his gaze... and saw the abyss. Her father had always said that if you stare into the abyss, it stares back at you. Now she understood.

"Shinji, I..." she tried to say something—anything.

She found no words.

"Everyone hates me." His lips pressed into a thin line of acceptance. "This ship. This world. They let the world condemn me, and I never had a chance to defend myself."

Misato felt herself growing smaller.

And Shinji was growing—larger, much larger.

"I'm not the only one who's suffered," he went on. "Everyone has. My mother did. Mr. Kaji did. Rei. Toji. Kensuke. Asuka. Sakura. Everyone in the world has. And let me tell you something."

She felt him looking down at her.

With contempt.

"I was just a child, Misato." She felt the pressure lift. "I was a child who wanted to be loved by his father. And this is my punishment."

Then he turned away, and all the words she wanted to say—never having had the chance—surged up at once.

"Wait, Shinji!" she shouted, running toward him. But he was already climbing into the entry plug.

"This is the last time we'll see each other, Katsuragi Misato."

She had to reach him.

She had to stop him.

Everything would fall apart if she let him go.

BAAANNGG!

A gunshot rang out instantly. She felt her entire world stop. The air caught in her throat as she saw Shinji collapse and disappear inside the Eva.

"No!"

When was the last time she had felt this desperation?

When was the last time she had felt this emptiness in her chest?

When was the last time she had felt like this?

When was the last time she had lost someone she loved?

There was no time to cry.

The lights flickered, and the prelude to hell announced itself.

Eva-01's eyes opened, red liquid dripping from them. The red of its body turned white, shining with searing intensity. And with its roar, the holocaust began.

GRRR-AAAAAAAH!!!!

It was moving.

It was moving!!

She watched in horror as the Eva powered up, trying to escape, to break its chains.

She stumbled as she ran, seeing the mechanical beast strain—successfully—against its restraints.

She ran.

She ran as fast as she could. If she stayed even one second longer, she would surely be crushed by some sudden movement of the Eva. She had to get to the soldiers.

GRRR-AAAAAAAH!!!!

A glowing arm burst from the Eva's containment. Another joined it. Everyone began firing. It wouldn't matter. It was just a biological response to fear. The glow intensified, and she turned to look—wishing she hadn't.

The Eva's two eyes were overwhelming. Red. Burning. And the white of its armor marked its awakening.

It tore away the rest of the machinery imprisoning it, and amber limbs burst forth to replace its legs.

It didn't turn to look at her.

It took position and smashed through the nearest wall, running—away from here, away from her.

"I'm sorry, Shinji," Misato whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

Mari Iscariot—no, Mari Illustrious Makinami—was sitting quietly inside her Eva. Normally she was far more lively, constantly calling over the comms to chat with crew members she got along with, or to tease Asuka for a bit.

But today didn't seem like a day for talking.

It looked like the system had gone down.

She could have fixed it if she wanted to. If it had been SEELE's or Gendo's interference, she would have. But she recognized the pattern that had caused the system to crash.

It was something Yui had done back when she was still alive.

Something not many people knew about Yui (besides the fact that she was a genius in far more fields than were publicly known) was that she enjoyed hacking computers.

Ayanami Yui did not come from a privileged background. Much of the money she earned came from illicit jobs. Fortunately, she never sold her body. She took on many contracts to make money. She invested in the stock market before the Impact and earned enough to clean up her past. But the work she truly enjoyed was computer-related. For her, it was fun to find someone who tried to stop her advance toward her objective.

That was how the two of them met. It had been her first real challenge in a long time. From Mari's point of view, Yui had been an unknown hacker trying to take away her livelihood. It nearly got her fired by the people she was working for at the time—and not in the fun way.

Now...

The only person she could imagine hijacking the Wunder's systems would be Yui Ayanami herself—or, failing that, her son, Shinji. She didn't know how her friend might have taught her son her old skills. Another Eva secret, she supposed.

Don't get her wrong—she wouldn't have been against helping and restoring the systems. Her skills had improved greatly over the years, and it wouldn't take her long. However, it wasn't her job. She was there as an Evangelion pilot. No one on that ship knew she had that skill set. And their ill will toward Shinji sealed the deal—she didn't even consider offering her help if they asked.

She wondered what the boy—no, the man—was doing. Unlike Asuka and herself, she could see that he really had grown. She wondered whether he had only grown on the outside, or whether he was simply so angry that he no longer showed what was inside him.

Her eyes softened as she thought of him. She still remembered the shy child clinging to his mother's arms. He had been so small. A little puppy clutching her chest in desperation. Yui had been the only person with whom he felt safe.

Ikari-kun had never tried to make his son laugh.

Yui had. And...

She had too.

It was a lovely laugh. Innocent. The most beautiful laugh she had ever heard. Yui had told her she was biased—that she had fallen in love with her son. Maybe that was true. But he was the cutest child in the world. He really was...

She hugged her knees and wondered what they had done to that child. There was nothing left of the boy she had known.

Thinking about him further would help—searching for the reasons why he had become this way. But nothing ever turned out the way one wanted.

"Makinami!" one of the technicians called out, his voice saying far too much about the current situation.

"Makinami, do you hear me?!"

She'd better answer.

She slapped her cheeks lightly and adjusted herself in the cockpit. She had to make a good impression, or they'd think something was wrong with her.

"This is the ever-young Mari Illustrious Makinami, control," she said in a cheerful voice. "What can I do for you?"

"Thank heaven," the technician said. "Shinji Ikari has stolen Unit-01 and has Lieutenant Maya Ibuki as a hostage. You must prevent him from escaping. We don't know where he is, but we suspect he's heading near your position."

"Understood," she replied instantly.

She only hoped the puppy was still in there.

"I'm surprised this is Ikari-kun's son, Yui-chan." He was a beautiful child. Watching him sleep was peaceful. She lifted her paper fan and gently stirred the air between herself and the boy.

She hated this endless summer, but there were moments when she loved it.

Yui said nothing.

She kept staring into the void, and that scared me more than I wanted to admit.

"Is something wrong, Yui-chan?" I asked after a while.

She still didn't respond.

I turned my gaze toward her and found nothing in her eyes. They were unfocused, staring at nothing, as if she were searching for a word. Or a question.

But I gave her time.

Yui was more patient than anyone, and this was one of the few moments when I could return that favor.

They drank a bit more iced tea, and I wondered how long this peace would last.

In a few years, SEELE's plans would begin. The Angels would arrive, and their normal days would be destroyed.

She brushed the child's cheek and imagined him with a distressed expression. Instantly, she erased that image from her mind.

Thinking about the worst-case scenario wasn't something she should do. It upset her. Wasn't it better to think positively? Yes! Think positive!

"Can I ask you a favor, Mari?" she asked suddenly.

I looked up and gave her a wide smile.

"Of course. Anything you ask." She was my friend. My best friend. I would give anything for her.

She just looked at me, and I could see sadness in her gaze. Her intense brown eyes could never hide her emotions—something little Shinji inherited. I loved that about both of them.

"Protect Shinji."

"...nami! Makinami! Makinami!"

Huh?

"Sorry... what did you say?"

"Unit One is right in front of you!"

In front of me?

That made no sense. None at all.
She had been checking readings, humming absentmindedly, letting the autopilot do its job. Daydreaming was a rookie mistake—and she was no rookie.

"Can you repeat that?" she asked, and this time confusion slipped into her voice without permission.

"EVA-01! It's right in front of you!"

What was he saying?

No.

That was impossible. Neither she nor the Princess had managed to so much as scratch that area of the Wunder. The ship's interior had an absurd density, impossible to replicate.

There was no way th—!!

CRASH!

BOOM!

They had to be joking. It had to be a cruel joke. She felt her throat seize shut and every hair on her body stand on end at the same time.

There it was.

Unit 01.

She wasn't dreaming. She was awake. Far too awake.

She couldn't believe it. White stained what had once been purple, and red replaced green. A white Eva, like the ADAMs. A halo hovered over its head, and the angelic melody vibrating in the air was the same as that time.

Its eyes caught her.

Red as blood.

Red with rage.

Its eyes stared straight at her, and she wondered—

Where was the baby she loved so much?

What did they do to her puppy?

The pain in his shoulder was bearable—far more so than anything he had endured in his battles against the Angels. Even so, he couldn't help but wonder which soldier, nerves shot to hell, had decided to shoot him. More importantly, why they had thought it was a good idea to use antimatter weaponry—or something dangerously close to it—since it pierced the small AT Field he had kept active as a precaution.

He hoped Maya would remain seated in her place inside the cockpit. He was a little surprised that she was tending to his wound. Perhaps that was the only redeeming thing about the entire experience. After that, they didn't exchange a single word.

He refocused on the opponent in front of him.

He watched the Eva.

Pink?

Was that pink?

He blinked for a second before pushing the thought aside and ignoring it.

Whoever was inside was an obstacle. Trying to kill them would be a problem—especially when his priority was escaping that ship.

The pink Eva fired. His AT Field absorbed the attacks, but his body trembled uneasily at the sight. It felt as though he were the Angel of the moment, attacking the city.

He drew a deep breath. He narrowed his eyes, thinking of a way out that wouldn't involve more death.

He hated being on this ship, but he didn't want humanity to lose to Gendo and his likely endless assaults.

He shaped the AT Field in his right hand and resorted to the ability of an old enemy.

The energy gathered. It solidified into a spike that emerged from his hand up to his elbow, then extended to more than twice the length of his arm. Only then did the light burst forth and the spear was fired.

Glopp!

The spear pierced the enemy EVA, embedding itself near where its stomach should be. He held it there for a second before retracting it, dragging the Eva with it, and smashed his free fist into the face of the pink EVA, cracking its mask.

He dispelled the spear and locked it in a fierce embrace. Even so, the enemy didn't surrender. It shook, struggled, fought to break free. But he wouldn't hurt it. Everything was part of the plan.

A second pair of hands sprouted from his EVA and slid along the pink one's back. He pulled an emergency lever and removed the entry plug.

At last, it stopped.

He laid the Eva and the plug aside.

He didn't look back. He burst through another door.

Sunlight flooded the corridor, and he knew—without a doubt—that freedom was within his reach.

Freer than before.
Freer than ever.

He took one more step and hurled himself into the void.

For the first time in a long while, he was free.

For the first time in a long while, he felt peace.

Mari hugged her legs again inside the entry plug. She could leave whenever she wanted, but she didn't. She wanted to be alone—at least for a while.

She had lost.

It wasn't the first time. Her defeats so far outnumbered her victories. But this time... this time she hadn't been able to do anything. She saw EVA-01 and froze. Completely still. Paralyzed. She barely managed to fire a few shots before being forcibly torn from her unit.

And what was she supposed to do?

The puppy was there.

Screaming.

Burning with rage.

She pressed her legs tighter against her chest, and the emptiness forced its way back inside her.

Where was that so-called friendship?

Where was that love?

She had failed. She hadn't kept her promise to Yui. She hadn't protected Shinji. She had no excuse. Ikari-kun had toyed with his son, twisted him, shaped him into something unrecognizable. And her? Where had she been when that happened?

She couldn't remember.

"Why didn't I make the effort?"

The question circled her mind like a thorn buried in her skull, impossible to pull out.

She had known it from the beginning: that he was a dependent, sweet puppy, for whom even barking was nothing but torment, a core part of his personality. And the people around him did nothing but slowly tear away what little innocence he had left. Thinking about it now hurt more than any wound.

They turned him into an ugly dog.
One that feared even the smallest gesture of affection.
One that almost seemed to expect someone to come closer just to tear off a leg, dreaming of watching him bleed.

And that filled her with hatred.

She hated Katsuragi.
She hated Akagi.
She hated WILLE.
She hated Asuka.

And above all,

she hated herself.

"Hey Shinji, do you want to marry Auntie Mari when you grow up?"

"Yesh!"

In the depths of what remained of NERV, Gendo Ikari sat in the dim light of his office. His expression remained as impassive as ever, but the information he had just received subtly disrupted the line of his thoughts.

"Shinji has escaped from the Wunder," Fuyutsuki said, slightly unsettled.

Gendo adjusted his glasses, his voice as cold as always.

"It was only a matter of time."

At his side, Rei Q—the latest clone of Rei Ayanami—stood motionless, watching Gendo without emotion. She had not arrived in time to prevent Shinji's escape. Her very existence remained a point of pain for Shinji, but Gendo had no interest in his son's feelings. To him, Shinji was simply another piece.

"The clone did not arrive in time to stop him," Gendo continued, more to himself than to his subordinate. "But it doesn't matter. What is coming will be inevitable. With or without him."

His plan was still in motion. Gendo had not the slightest doubt that his own destiny—and that of humanity—was assured. SEELE believed he was on their side and would continue to be used until the final moment arrived. His son might try to become a variable, but he would be unable to do anything. He would remain part of the equation until the very end.