Chapter 2
It was hard to miss the lone car parked directly in front of the station, beside which a beautiful dark-haired girl—or woman?—stood impatiently tapping her foot against the asphalt.
Adjusting my bag, I slowed my pace slightly, taking a moment to study her appearance.
She wore a striking red jacket tossed carelessly over a black top, paired with dark leggings that hugged her shapely legs. Her features were quite attractive, and her expressions were vivid; noticing my approach, Misato elegantly arched an eyebrow, her entire demeanor signaling for me to hurry up.
Correction: her hair wasn't just dark, but possessed a distinct violet hue that shimmered playfully in the light. Most likely, the color was natural. Chemical dyes don't catch the light with such organic radiance. Interesting—I hadn't encountered that before.
"Hey, hey, Shinji-kun!" Tired of waiting, the girl waved her hand. "Stop acting like a tortoise! Great things await us!"
New observation: she clearly likes to smile, and she does so genuinely. There weren't any obvious signs of a "fake" smile, or at least, I couldn't detect any. The only thing to go on was my own intuition, and it told me that Katsuragi was being absolutely sincere right now.
It was pleasant. I like seeing pure emotions rather than the crooked imitations society demands—even when the only thing you actually want to do is grab a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire and start a massive flash mob of violence against every living thing.
"Sorry, Katsuragi-san!" I shouted back. "I haven't quite finished stretching my legs after the long trip!"
Nothing stopped me from walking up and saying it more quietly without drawing attention. But then... why bother, since there was no one else around.
Which also raised questions: buying out a train was one thing, but clearing an entire station plaza? Either my father had decided to go "Breaking Bad," or the reason was, shall we say, more peculiar.
"You're teasing me; you're still young," Misato said with a wide grin, reaching out a hand and gesturing for me to hand over my bag.
Instead, I took her hand and, bringing it to my lips, kissed her knuckles, causing my companion to stiffen in slight bewilderment.
Why?
Well, why not?
I'd always wanted to pull off something like that, in the spirit of Western movies.
In the process, I picked up a few details: Misato uses a pleasant perfume with a soft floral scent (and likes to spray a bit on her wrists), and she doesn't smoke. Nicotine lovers always have a faint scent of tobacco lingering on their fingers, even after a thorough washing.
"Oh, Kami-sama," Katsuragi said, pulling her hand away and shuddering slightly. "Do you happen to know Ryoji Kaji?"
"Kaji?" I tilted my head inquisitively. "Never heard of him."
Squinting, the girl looked at me intently. Apparently satisfied with her own thoughts, she let out a sigh of relief.
"Forget it." Opening the rear door of the car, the possessor of the deep violet mane pointed to an empty spot on the back seat. "Toss your things in and let's go."
"As you wish," I replied with a shrug, carefully placing my bag down while avoiding the power cells. "Is this an electric car?"
"Yep." Walking around the vehicle, Misato patted its rear. "A Renault Alpine, just slightly modified. The body is from the old versions, designed for four cylinders. Programmed automatic transmission. And the steering wheel is on the right. I mean, who uses left-hand drive anyway?"
My understanding of cars was roughly on par with my understanding of higher mathematics or physics: I'd heard things here and there, had a few concepts in my head, and that was the end of the story. Nothing to be done; knowing everything about everything is the prerogative of fictional characters in authorial universes.
I, on the other hand, am a simple person. If a fun topic comes up, I'll study it to the best of my abilities, of course. But I had no intention of cluttering my head with information that would only be useful twice in a lifetime under very specific circumstances.
Regardless, whether I was interested or not, I could maintain any dialogue. The key is to ask general questions at the right time and show that you are listening.
Listening, not just hearing—an important distinction!
"Do you like cars?" Taking the passenger seat, I buckled up out of habit and pushed the seat back a bit so my legs wouldn't be jammed against the dashboard.
"What? You think it's not a feminine hobby?" the girl asked mockingly, reversing sharply and causing me to lurch.
In response, I gave Misato a meaningful look, trying to convey my entire attitude toward such insinuations.
Judging by the way she laughed out loud, I achieved the desired effect.
"Okay, okay, I'm joking. But imagine, some people really do think there are strictly 'female' and 'male' activities. Especially among those old, grumbling fossils..." While talking, Katsuragi kept her eyes strictly on the road, which earned her another point in my book.
Especially considering the fact that she was clearly driving at a speed that slightly exceeded the limit. Slightly.
Catching sight of a forty-mile-per-hour sign, I glanced at the speedometer; the needle was hovering around eighty.
I checked my seatbelt one more time.
"I'm talking about interests, by the way. So don't think I'm one of those people who..." Turning sharply, nearly slamming me into the side window, Misato continued calmly: "Advocates for men to start giving birth."
Right...
Perhaps I should steer the conversation in a different direction. I wasn't ready to discuss such sensitive topics as gender equality or the laws of nature right now. I didn't have a bat nearby to whack an overly bold conversationalist, nor did I have a helmet. Or a cup to protect my groin.
"Katsuragi-san..." I began, but she quickly cut me off.
"No 'Katsuragi-san'! It makes me feel old. Do I look like an old maid to you, huh?" She flashed a white-toothed smile while pulling sunglasses out of the glove compartment.
"Not at all," I grunted, squinting against the sun's rays hitting me directly in the face.
In a short amount of time, we managed to leave the city limits and were now driving down an open road that circled a hill. From here, a view opened up of massive solar energy collection blocks, serving as the primary power source for the entire city.
What also caught the eye was a strange "emptiness" in the center of Tokyo-3, as if something was visually missing—a detail I was well aware of, yet couldn't quite fully grasp.
It's a nasty feeling: you're sure you know something, but you absolutely cannot remember it. And the funniest part is that the information usually pops into your head when the moment is completely lost, like in the middle of the night.
Then you lie there, tossing and turning, thinking about how the situation would have played out if your brain had turned on in time...
"So, Misato-san," I said, finally asking the question that had been floating in my head since I arrived. "Where are all the people?"
"People?.." Katsuragi trailed off, as if not understanding what I meant at first. "Oh, right! This is your first time here, isn't it?"
I nodded.
I'd read some information about the city, but I'd limited myself strictly to the tip of the iceberg. After all, Tokyo-3 was originally planned as Japan's new capital, replacing Tokyo-2, which in turn had replaced the classic Tokyo destroyed during the Second Impact...
Kami-sama, who in the country's leadership even came up with the idea of numbering cities in order? I understand continuity and the preservation of history and cultural heritage, but... it sounds so stupid!
"It's actually very simple," Misato said, slowing down so as not to fly over the railing on the particularly winding turns. "A training drill."
"A drill?" I raised an eyebrow.
"That's the one," Katsuragi nodded. "All the residents and personnel have taken shelter in special bunkers. That's why you didn't meet anyone."
I scratched the wrist of my right hand, my finger brushing against an old scar.
"And why are such drills even conducted? If my memory doesn't fail me, Japan isn't actively in conflict with anyone right now."
A situation greatly aided by the catastrophe that occurred fourteen years ago, which claimed a staggering number of lives. And, as a bonus, slightly altered the Earth's landscape, leaving some less fortunate nations under deep water.
"Shinji-kun," Misato said, lifting her glasses and looking at me with dark brown eyes. "What exactly do you know about the project you've been invited to?"
Tilting my head, I met the girl's gaze and gave her the best smile from my collection.
"Absolutely nothing."
Silence fell over the car, finally broken by Katsuragi.
"So, you're telling me your father invited you here without giving you any background or warning you about anything?" Her tone was laced with blatant disbelief.
I shrugged nonchalantly.
"Exactly."
"And you agreed without asking questions?"
Chuckling, I looked out the side window at the city visible in the distance, which we were moving further and further away from.
"I agreed because... well, why should I have refused?" It really was a beautiful view from here; one could almost jump out while moving and pull out a camera. A pity I didn't have one with me. "In the end, thanks to my father, I live a comfortable and full life, denying myself almost nothing. And in all the years of our communication, he never struck me as a man who would want to cause harm to his own son. Not that we talked much. Maybe once or twice a year."
Sighing, I closed my eyes, recalling my last meeting with Gendo. How many sentences did we exchange then? Five or six, including the greeting and goodbye?
To an outsider, it might have seemed like we had a truly shitty relationship, but in reality... neither he nor I had any need for heart-to-heart conversations.
He had his life. I had mine. And there were almost no points of intersection, except for a few minor nuances.
"If he wants to keep everything a secret from me until the last moment, there are clearly valid reasons for it. I think, as someone who works with him, you are well acquainted with his cold and calculated temperament," I finished, laughing softly again.
It was because of this trait that my uncle disliked his brother so much, saying I was lucky to have escaped his influence in time. However, when I turned about twelve, my "guardian's" opinion changed, and I more frequently heard him say, "a chip off the old block." It sounded like a compliment, but the tone with which my uncle said it suggested exactly the opposite.
"I see. Nothing to be done then..."
Frowning, I turned back to Misato, surprised by how hollow and disappointed her voice sounded. It was as if my answer had somehow managed to offend her.
It also completely killed any atmosphere for further conversation, so we spent the rest of the journey in total silence.
I didn't feel uncomfortable with the situation, as I knew how to find beauty in silence.
Even if it was filled with a heavy awkwardness.
---
The mountain road led us to an entrance with massive gates, behind which was an unusual freight elevator designed for transporting heavy machinery.
"That's it, you can relax and wait," Misato said, tossing her hands behind her head and leaning back, her bored eyes following the lights flashing on the wall.
"Wait for what?" I looked with slight suspicion at the platform that was slowly lowering us deeper and deeper. This construction didn't exactly inspire confidence.
And... are we headed to some secret base? The number of armored doors we had to pass through sparked a firm suspicion that my father clearly wasn't working for a simple company.
"Arrival at headquarters," Katsuragi replied, as if I should have known what she was talking about.
It didn't make things any clearer, but something in her expression suggested I wouldn't get a proper answer even if I continued to badger her with questions.
Heh, they could have at least given me a brochure, like the ones handed out on the street by miserable people with smiles plastered on their faces. On second thought, though, it's better to remain in the dark than to receive information that way.
The ideal option: data in a condensed, bulleted form, with a minimum of confusing terms and accompanying pictures.
Dry, clear, straight and to the point.
Exactly the way I wish everyone around me would communicate. Including myself (which, unfortunately, is already impossible, as the flight of free thought is sometimes practically unstoppable).
"You don't look nervous."
Blinking, I surfaced from my thoughts and turned to Misato.
"But I am nervous," I said, seeing her eyes widen in surprise, then added with a smile: "It's just that my nervousness is expressed in outward calmness. I might look unyielding, but if you look deeper—you risk being scalded by the emotions boiling inside."
Of course, I was exaggerating slightly, but...
I actually was nervous right now, though likely not for the reasons Katsuragi might suspect.
"Has anyone ever told you that this style of speech makes you sound like a chuunibyou?" Katsuragi grunted with a hint of sarcasm. "Or a teenager who thinks he's long outgrown his peers?"
"They have," I didn't deny it. "And they were right in some ways."
I saw no point in denying reality. Because, well... sometimes I really do overdo it.
It's like when you want to be simpler, but you only end up making things more complicated. Or you think such behavior looks cool from the outside and everyone will start clapping and saying how smart and unusual you are, when in reality they're struggling to hold back laughter and the urge to call you crazy.
Nevertheless...
"Want me to show you my version of the Kamehameha?" I asked with a wide grin, demonstratively raising my hand.
Misato couldn't help herself and burst out laughing, waving me off as if I were a child.
Still, I had long ago learned to accept myself for who I am.
And I certainly wasn't going to get a complex because someone might think I'm weird.
At least, not during the daylight hours.
For all reflections and suffering, there is a more suitable place: right before sleep, at night, hitting your head against the pillow and screaming silently in the realization of how spectacularly you managed to screw up.
---
"He is here, Ikari-kun." A gray-haired elderly man watched the car, its descent monitored by numerous cameras located all along the freight elevator's path.
"I see, Fuyutsuki," his superior replied, sitting in a leather chair. His eyes were hidden behind the lenses of dark glasses, and his chin rested on his clasped hands, making it look as though Gendo were constantly in a state of deep contemplation.
However, Kozo, who had known the current head of NERV for many years, knew perfectly well that it was often just a comfortable way for him to sit. And, as a pleasant bonus, it helped maintain the image of a wise leader.
"Are you still sure this was a good idea? After all, the pilot of Eva-00, despite the recent tests, is quite capable of showing results that satisfy the higher-ups." Saying this, Fuyutsuki closely monitored the slightest changes in the elder Ikari's posture.
When the man's fingertips twitched almost imperceptibly, he smiled inwardly.
"We don't have time," Gendo's voice remained calm and measured. "The last activation experiment resulted in Rei sustaining injuries that are too serious; she won't be able to return to testing for another couple of months. And 'they' need to see progress right now."
Because of the glasses, it was hard to tell where he was looking, but Kozo was certain that right now the head of NERV was staring intently at Captain Katsuragi's car.
"Yes," the elder Ikari continued. "We truly don't have time for this. According to the Scrolls, everything could begin at any moment. And in order to survive, Shinji will have to embark on this path."
At the end, a hint of irritation flickered in the man's voice. However, it wasn't aimed at his son, but at the fact that the hopes Gendo had built had not been realized.
A shadow of a smile briefly touched Fuyutsuki's lips.
"And if we're all mistaken and we still have time?" he couldn't help but ask.
Gendo let out a quiet chuckle and slowly rose from his chair, exactly at the moment when the freight elevator on the monitors stopped before the final doors, behind which lay the branching path leading into the very depths of the complex.
Walking past his colleague, the elder Ikari paused and turned to look at the massive diagram of the Tree of Life on the office wall.
"Then we will make use of it."
Shaking his head, Fuyutsuki closed his eyes for a couple of seconds before following his direct superior, pondering Gendo's final words.
Was he definitely talking about time?..