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Sitting on his bed, facing the wall, Shinji felt like he was being crushed under the heavy weight of his responsibilities. He wanted to disappear; he wanted to run away, to avoid the destiny his father had assigned to him. He couldn’t possibly pilot the Eva and save the world he loved like he was expected to — not even with Kaworu’s help.
Kaworu… He didn’t belong here like Shinji did. Shinji was the one who had caused so much turmoil to begin with; Shinji was the one with the choker on his neck — the choker that felt like it was growing tighter and tighter with each strained breath. He felt pathetic. He was a burden on the entirety of humanity, and he wasn’t even strong enough to atone for his sins. Kaworu had no place in this — it was Shinji’s fault, after all.
“I-I can’t do it,” he muttered to himself — or at least he thought it was to himself. He had almost forgotten Kaworu was with him in the room until he felt the bed shift behind him; the weight of Kaworu’s knee caused the shoddy piece of furniture to creak, alerting him to his presence.
Suddenly, the impossibly tight choker opened itself with a mechanical whir; it gave up its grip on his skin as it was pulled away from him. Shinji looked over his shoulder, perplexed to see Kaworu gazing down calmly at the device in his hands.
“I’ll take this burden from you,” he said, lifting the collar and letting it seal itself shut over his own throat. “It was meant for me, anyway.”
“N-No, wait,” Shinji said, feeling guilt set in for being so childish. “You can’t. What if something happens, and it goes off?” He swallowed against the anxiety rising in his throat. “You don’t deserve that; you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who started the Impact.” He had to swallow again. “I-It’s my fault, so I should deal with the consequences.”
He owed it to himself — he owed it to everyone — to shoulder what was coming to him. If the choker detonated, it needed to be Shinji who suffered the result. He was the one it had been given to; there was no reason for Kaworu to take it on in his stead.
However, Kaworu’s expression changed from serene acceptance to something more akin to confusion. “If it makes you trust me more, then I’ll wear it for you.”
Shinji shook his head. “I don’t want you to wear it,” he urged. “Give it back.”
Kaworu seemed like he was at a loss for words. Had he expected Shinji to just…let him do this? Let him potentially die for him? There was no way Shinji would be so selfish.
“B-But I need you to trust me, Ikari-kun,” he said, voice rising at the end as if he were unsure.
“I already trust you,” Shinji assured him. “Please, give me the choker.”
Kaworu took a step back. “…No.”
“What?”
“I won’t give it back to you,” he said with conviction. “I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?” he questioned. “You just took it off me. Can’t you take it off yourself?”
For once, Kaworu seemed fidgety and nervous, as if he had been caught in a situation that he didn’t know how to escape. It appeared that he wouldn’t be able to talk his way around this.
“Ikari-kun, please… I know what I’m doing. I have to wear this.”
Shinji stood from the bed. “Why?”
Kaworu backed up further. “…I just have to.”
He stepped closer, raising his voice. “Why?!”
“Please, Ikari-kun,” he begged, raising his hands in defense as Shinji took another step towards him. “Trust me.”
“Why should I?!” Shinji challenged. He dove forward, reaching for the choker around Kaworu’s neck, despite knowing he wouldn’t have been able to make it budge. When that didn't work, he grabbed Kaworu’s hands instead, trying to bring them up to the choker in the hopes that he could make something happen.
“It...won’t work…” Kaworu said, strained as he tried to hold Shinji back. “It won’t do anything...if I don’t want it to.”
“Why...don’t you...want it to?” Shinji grunted. With a burst of strength, he forced Kaworu’s hands to press against his own neck. The seal on the front started to light up.
Kaworu’s eyes widened with alarm. “S-Stop, Shinji-kun…!”
Shinji was so caught off-guard by Kaworu’s use of his first name, he almost didn’t register what was happening at first. A bright flash of orange light blasted him back, sending him far away from the other boy. It was so powerful that it hurled him across the room; he fell against his bed, thankfully without injury.
Kaworu stood there, panting, frozen, looking at his own sinless hands as if they had done anything.
“Was that…?” Shinji asked, confused, sitting upright on the mattress. “Did that come from the choker?”
Kaworu looked up at him, eyes still wide and terrified. He looked pained as he slowly shook his head.
“What was it, then?”
He didn’t get a response. The flash of light — and the fierce resistance it had provided — was reminiscent of only one thing Shinji recognized, but he couldn’t allow the thoughts to combine into coherency in his mind. Kaworu had just projected something that looked like an AT field; AT fields were something Angels had. It was impossible for those two statements to have anything to do with each other, but…
“…Was that…an AT field?” he finally asked, voice so timid that it barely constituted a mumble.
Kaworu remained silent, giving Shinji all the confirmation he needed.
“Why…” Shinji trailed off, dumbfounded. “Why do you have an AT field?”
Kaworu pressed his palms against his eyelids, muttering, “No, no, no, no… Not like this…”
“N-Nagisa-kun…” Shinji mumbled pathetically, already feeling his lower lip start to wobble. “Why do you have an AT field?”
“Please, don’t dwell on—”
“Why do you have an AT field?!” Shinji shouted, feeling the harsh, hot shame of betrayal climbing up his back. “What are you?”
“I-It’s not important, really, Ikari-kun—“
“Why would you hide something like that from me?!” he asked, letting the anger fester in the tone of his voice. He stood from the bed, crossing the room towards him again, knowing the risk involved this time. If Kaworu wanted to attack him with whatever secret power he was harbouring, then so be it.
It didn’t seem like he had any ill intentions, though. Kaworu pursed his lips, brow furrowed deeply as he tried to find the words to explain himself. Shinji waited, somewhat impatiently.
“…I-I needed you to trust me,” he finally muttered. “You wouldn’t have trusted me if you knew; no matter how much I try to explain it. I know you wouldn’t have trusted me if you knew about it from the start.”
“How can you possibly know that?” Shinji asked, voice much softer now.
Kaworu cast his eyes downwards. “I just…know, okay?”
For some reason, Shinji accepted his words as truth. Kaworu might have lied to him by omission, but he would never outright lie to him. Still, though…
“…I can’t believe you lied to me,” Shinji said with very little malice in his tone. “Everyone else has lied to me, and kept things from me that I should have known. I didn’t think you would do it, too. I thought…” He trailed off, feeling his lip tremble again. “I thought you were different.”
“Ikari-kun,” Kaworu almost cooed, trying to comfort him. “I haven’t hidden anything from you that you’ve needed to know. What I am is of no consequence to you. Your experience of me will be the same regardless of whether or not you know of my true nature.”
“B-But…”
How could it not matter? Angels were something Shinji was instructed to fight; something he was instructed to kill. They were his enemy. And if Kaworu was one of them, then…
“If y-you’re…” He desperately tried to choke the words out. “Then… w-won’t I… have to…?”
As soon as the thought entered his mind, he quickly lost control of his own breath, feeling as if he were drowning in the air around him. He was choking on nothing; his fingers curled in on themselves, and he collapsed to the floor, trying to stop his mind from racing — but it was useless.
“Y-Y-You…” he stammered, spitting the words out through his staggered sobs. “I-I… I c-can’t…”
A gentle hand rubbed circles into Shinji’s back, helping him through his state of panic. The contact grounded him in reality, stopping him from fully spiralling out of control.
“Ikari-kun,” Kaworu murmured, tone gentle and reassuring as he crouched down next to him. “You won’t need to do anything.”
Despite the topic at hand, Kaworu was remaining surprisingly calm; his demeanour only served to make Shinji feel calm, too. Eventually, his breathing slowed to its normal rate, and the edges of his vision were no longer fuzzy.
He was ready to make a third attempt at stating his argument. “B-But, if… you’re one of them, then…”
Kaworu quietly sighed. “…Yes, Ikari-kun, I’m an Angel. I’ve been an Angel as long as I can remember, and I will be an Angel until the day the universe collapses in on itself. I cannot change that.” He reached for Shinji’s hand, squeezing it once, gently. “But I can change how I affect the world around me. And by taking the choker, I can take the decision out of your hands.”
“The decision to what?” Shinji pressed despite already understanding.
“To…neutralize me, if need be,” he said with a slight grimace.
At that, Shinji slumped against him, body feeling heavy and weak. This was too much for him to handle; he didn’t want to entertain the thought of such a gruesome outcome.
“Why can’t you just throw it away?” he asked pathetically.
Kaworu’s arms came up around him, supporting him as his strength to sit upright rapidly depleted.
“If something happens to trigger this choker, it’s for the best if I’m still wearing it.” He paused. “For everyone’s safety.”
“Why would it be safer if you…?” he asked, trailing off — he couldn’t say it. “You would never hurt anyone.”
“I would never want to hurt anyone, but it’s not that simple. I have instincts that are out of my control.”
“But you haven’t done anything wrong yet, have you? Why would that change?”
Kaworu was silent for a while, sighing pensively. Eventually, he spoke.
“…Please, let me tell you a story.”
“Huh?”
“You’ll understand, okay? Just listen.” He pulled Shinji closer, towards his chest. “Close your eyes.”
Shinji did as he was told, content to listen to the soothing sound of his voice as he began.
“…There once was a prince — a very handsome prince — who spent his life feeling lonely in his big castle. He only ever knew one thing for sure: elves were evil and needed to be destroyed at all costs. The king forced the prince and his young friends to risk their lives to ensure that all the elves were slain. But, you see, the elves had a prince, too, and he was well aware of his human counterpart.
“One day, the elven prince was sent to the human kingdom to meet with the human prince — he looked a little strange, but he passed very well for human, you see. This came at an opportune time; the human prince had just lost a dear friend in an earlier fight, and he saw the elf as an unlikely confidant. He never questioned his identity. And, although they only had a short amount of time together, they grew quite close — you may even say they fell in love.”
After saying that, Kaworu paused for a moment. Shinji raised his head with curiosity, glancing up at Kaworu, only to discover that he was already looking down at him. They held each other’s gaze for a tense moment before Kaworu looked away, continuing his story.
“...But the elven prince was in the human kingdom, after all, and he knew where his allegiances lay. It wasn’t up to him; he had to join them sooner or later, and when he did, the elves would surely overpower the humans.
“So, when it came time for the elven prince to join his brethren, he instead made the choice to fight his instincts and perform one final display of love towards the human prince. He begged, and pleaded, and gave the poor human heir no choice; he knelt to the ground, shutting his eyes, awaiting the final act with a patient smile… And with a face full of tears, the human prince drew back his sword and beheaded his dear friend.”
He paused, turning his head away. “I’m not sure what happened after that. But they met again, many, many years later. The human prince didn’t remember any of it, of course; he never did. But the danger surrounding them was different, this time — the elven prince might have stood a chance. It might not have mattered that he was an elf anymore.
“‘Maybe,’ he thought, ‘This time, it would be fine. And if it isn’t…’” Kaworu tapped the choker with his index finger, smiling coyly as he met Shinji’s eyes again. “I won’t have to make you do it again.”
Shinji blinked slowly, coming back to the present. There had been too much detail in that story; too much for it to have been entirely fabricated. It had clearly been embellished, but… surely, it was rooted in reality, right? But how could that have been possible?
“Nagisa-kun… is that… true?” he asked, slowly — almost cautiously.
“Of course not, Ikari-kun; elves don’t exist,” he said, too quick and rehearsed. “But it illustrates my point, does it not?”
Shinji peered into Kaworu’s eyes, trying to see past the veneer — but he knew Kaworu was on to him.
“…How much have you been keeping secret from me?” he asked, finally, knowing it was a pointless question.
Kaworu’s wise, serene expression faded for a moment, and for that moment, he looked like he had lived a million years. It was more than enough of an answer.
“…Please don’t ask me that question,” he muttered as he took Shinji’s hand. “Just trust me, okay? Please?”
The ache of loss still panged in Shinji’s chest, though the story had long since reached its conclusion. Where had he felt this before? Was it when he had lost his mother?
…No, that didn’t seem quite right. This feeling was too raw; too recent, somehow. The pain was akin to a wound that reopened again and again, never allowing itself to heal — one that he couldn’t recall the source of.
But, really, it didn’t matter. He believed that Kaworu only wanted the best for him, and if that meant withholding some information, then… that had to be okay.
“…Okay, I trust you,” Shinji murmured, knowing in his heart that it was true.
Kaworu smiled with relief. “Thank you, Ikari-kun.”
There was no use in pressing him any further; it was unwise to pursue this topic any further, especially with such a daunting task on the horizon. So, Shinji clasped Kaworu’s hands in his left, and lifted his elven prince’s chin with his right.
“…Call me ‘Shinji.’”
He smiled. “Very well, Shinji-kun,” he said, smiling wider as the words left his mouth. “I’m honoured. Please, feel free to address me the same way.”
“O-Okay… Kaworu-kun.”
Speaking his name for the first time felt strange; it didn’t feel like it was the first time. He knew, somehow, that it wasn’t. But he was simply too tired to worry about it.
He let Kaworu pull him in again, hugging him close to his body and stroking along his back. It was so soothing that Shinji had no choice but to let his eyes fall shut once more, eager for the reprieve from his doomed reality. If he tried, he could almost hear the hands of the clock ticking as it counted down — so he ignored it for now.
What would happen when it was time for them to pilot the Eva together? Without meaning to, his mind flooded with possibilities; most of them involved something terrible happening. He clung to the few that ended with both of them intact.
“…I don’t want you to die,” Shinji mumbled, unable to stop himself from saying it. It was the only thing on his mind, and he couldn’t keep it to himself any longer. Losing Kaworu would break him — it would break all that Kaworu had helped him to rebuild.
He didn’t expect the other boy to reply; Shinji felt himself growing sleepier with each passing second, and it was obvious that he could no longer carry a conversation. He closed his eyes, letting his breathing slow until he was cyclically comforted by the sound of it.
But, just as sleep’s heavy cloak draped itself around his shoulders, he heard Kaworu whisper something into the silence of the room around them.
“…I don’t want to die, either.”