Clearing his throat, Hattori Kojiro turned to his attendants and said,
"Send word to all the Diet members. Tell them the Speaker has urgent matters to discuss."
Sure enough, not long after the heated quarrel at the Hattori residence had erupted and then settled, a special session was convened the next day in Nagatachō, the seat of Japanese political power.
Most lawmakers had already been briefed on the conflict that had broken out between the military and NERV. Some of them were even pleased to see the military being dealt a blow. But far more were worried—concerned that NERV's overwhelming strength posed a direct threat to their own safety.
Such is human nature—selfish to the core. When their interests are endangered, they lash out at others. But when they themselves remain untouched, they pretend to be deaf and blind, acting as though they know nothing.
And so, a new directive was drafted in Nagatachō, approved unanimously by the Cabinet, and signed personally by the Prime Minister. The document was immediately delivered to NERV.
Its contents were simple: In the name of the Japanese government, NERV was ordered to surrender the three Evangelion pilots. Regardless of whether they were guilty of treason or not, they were to be tried before a Japanese military tribunal.
And the one entrusted with carrying out this directive—was, of course, Ishiki Kashimoto.
At the same time the document was dispatched to NERV, Kashimoto moved quickly, pointing countless artillery units directly at NERV HQ. He even had weapons of mass destruction on standby. If NERV dared to deploy Evangelions again, he was prepared to ensure that the entire NERV staff would die with them.
Kashimoto was confident that this time, he would catch NERV completely off guard.
After all, people are selfish. If it meant protecting Kitazawa Ryota and the others would place themselves in danger or even mortal peril, most would choose to save their own skin.
This is humanity. This is the human heart.
The longer NERV remained silent, the happier Kashimoto became.
To him, this silence meant chaos within NERV—infighting, disagreement, indecision. And nothing pleased him more.
What he didn't know, however, was what was really happening inside NERV Headquarters at that moment.
Deep underground, in the command center, inside a large hall—a small electric grill was gently radiating heat. On top of it, neat rows of skewered meat sizzled as they cooked.
Kitazawa Ryota stood beside the grill, casually sprinkling seasoning over the skewers.
"This is Chinese barbecue," he said with a small smile. "Japan has its own style of grilling, of course, but this has a flavor all its own."
As the juices from the meat dripped onto the searing metal, white smoke curled upward in gentle waves.
As he turned the skewers, Ryota continued,
"Nagatachō's letter has already arrived at NERV. The matter must be resolved—but the solution doesn't rest in our hands."
Surrounded by the savory aroma, Misato Katsuragi nodded silently.
This situation had to be dealt with. The Japanese government's actions had already made the nation a laughingstock internationally and cast serious uncertainty over the upcoming Vatican Protocol Conference. Other countries, watching Japan spiral into chaos, were content to sit back and watch.
Misato also knew that above NERV was another organization—SEELE. But she didn't fully understand how they operated.
"How NERV handles this," Ryota said, handing skewers to both Rei Ayanami and Misato, "and how thoroughly it's resolved… will depend entirely on SEELE, and on how soon the next Angel arrives."
SEELE would never allow NERV's power to be arbitrarily diminished. And once another Angel attacked, the military would be helpless—and the public would turn its wrath squarely on Nagatachō.
"That," Ryota said calmly, "is when our opportunity will come."
"Then the real questions are: when will the next Angel appear? And when will SEELE step in?" Misato asked, chewing on a skewer, her eyes fixed on Ryota.
Ryota nodded, confident. "Soon. Very soon."
Their entire conversation remained unheard by any fourth party—because Misato had already ordered a full vacation for all NERV personnel. Only she, Ayanami Rei, and Kitazawa Ryota remained at headquarters.
Thus, Kashimoto's calculations had already failed—though he remained blissfully unaware.
The enemy made no move. And so, Kashimoto, misled by this silence, was delighted. Pleased with his own strategy, he felt smug and satisfied.
But that satisfaction would not last long.
Because two days later, just as every tank and artillery unit had been fully deployed and combat-ready, Kashimoto received a call from the General.
Seeing the name on the screen, Kashimoto dared not delay. He picked up immediately.
What he heard stunned him.
Over the phone, the General tore into him with furious scolding—then revealed a shocking piece of news:
Key figures within the United Nations had personally stepped in and ordered Japan to cease its aggression against NERV.
And there was more—the warning carried with it a very real sense of threat. After all, ever since the Second Impact, the UN's authority had grown rapidly. Today, it had become a geopolitical behemoth.
As for Kitazawa Ryota and the other two pilots, the UN would be dispatching a joint investigative team to thoroughly examine the matter.
By the time the General finished speaking, Kashimoto's face was twisted in utter humiliation. The news hit him like a slap across the face. Though unwilling to accept it, he had no choice but to obey. One misstep now, and he could be the one to fall.
Looking toward NERV HQ in the distance, his fists clenched tightly.
Kitazawa Ryota… One day, I will make sure you die without a grave.
And just hours after the General's call, a plane touched down in Tokyo.
A blond-haired, blue-eyed middle-aged man stepped off the aircraft. Without delay, he took a taxi to Nagatachō, where he entered the Prime Minister's residence and remained in closed-door talks for hours.
No one knew what was said behind those walls.
That day, all of Japan's political circles were buzzing with curiosity:
Who was this sudden visitor? A foreign delegate? A UN representative?
Why was he holding a private meeting with the Prime Minister—with not even a single aide present?
Everyone was curious—but no one dared ask. After all, in Nagatachō, the less you know, the longer you live.
Know too much—and you may end up vanishing without a trace.
Eventually, after four hours of secret talks, the blonde man left just as silently as he had come.
And when the Prime Minister emerged from the residence, those who saw him noticed only one thing—
His face looked deathly pale, as though he had just recovered from a serious illness.
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