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Cicadas chirped rhythmically far off in the distance. Their high-pitched cries carried across the fields, melding in with the sounds within it as they faded into the air; the leaves and vines rustling in the wind, the soft clucking of chickens nestling in their coop nearby, the gentle crush of fertile soil yielding under the spade as it was driven in, working a small gouge into it.
“There, that should do it.”
Carefully, Kaworu picked up one of the seedlings and placed it into the hole he’d just made, taking great care not to tug on its delicate leaves as he held it still to firm the soil around it. He repeated the process until all had been meticulously transferred to the flowerbed he’d prepared for them—just big enough to fit all of them in comfortably and chock full of the kind of moist, well-tended soil that would allow them to grow to their full potential, given time.
Kaworu checked to make sure he’d spaced them far apart enough once more, wanting to give the frail little things the best chance possible. Gingerly, he ran a finger under one of the tiny bright-green leaves sticking out from the dirt, testing its strength; despite looking so fragile, it was surprisingly strong.
“You did well,” he said affectionately. “I hope you grow strong and healthy.”
A low chuckle from behind him caught his attention. “Talking to your plants is fine and all, but you do actually have to water them if you want them to grow.”
Kaworu laughed softly in return. “I was just trying to give them some encouragement.”
He grabbed onto the pail he’d left at his side to do just that, soaking the soil with enough water to thoroughly moisten it through. Once he was sure it was saturated, he turned towards the boxes surrounding it, full of already-blossomed flowers. The large puffs of purple-pink phlox settled near the back, the asters, the bright-colored zinnias blooming bright reds and yellows.
The sight brought a smile to his face. It hadn’t been long since those, too, were nothing but feeble little seedlings, just taking root. He couldn’t have been more pleased with their progress.
As he tended to them, Kaji crouched down by his side. “What did you plant this time?” he asked. “It might be hot now, but it won’t be long until the weather cools. This whole place will be frosted over before you know it.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. I read that pansies grow best this time of year,” Kaworu hummed, emptying the last of the pail’s water over the mass of petals. “They’ll flower before it gets too cold, and they should be hearty enough to survive the winter. Most of these should, really. Whatever doesn’t… I suppose I’ll just replant next year,” he finally turned to Kaji. “If you don’t mind, that is.”
Kaji shook his head. “Not at all. I did say you could do whatever you wanted with this part of the garden, didn’t I?”
“You did,” Kaworu smiled. “I just wanted to make sure.”
The two stayed there immersed in a comfortable silence as Kaworu finished up the rest. Checking for any pests hidden beneath the leaves, pruning where he needed to, softening the soil around the new transfers so their roots could take hold more easily. It was all routine at this point, though that did nothing to make it less rewarding.
“I was a little surprised when you ended up planting a bunch of flowers, of all things. But the more I look at them, the more I think they suit you.”
It was an observation masking a question hidden within, one Kaworu wasn’t quite sure how to answer. He let it hang a while longer, letting the murmurs of late-afternoon fill in the lull.
“I just think they’re beautiful,” he settled on going with. It’s not like it was a lie. “Rest assured, I’m taking great care to make sure they don’t attract anything that might harm the watermelons. They should be planted far enough away that—”
Kaji chuckled and gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder. “No need to explain yourself. I trust in your judgment, Commander.”
He sighed. “How many times do I have to ask you to call me Kaworu, Ryo-chan? I haven’t been your Commander for quite a while.”
His response came out soft, almost wistful, surprising even himself. He’d never once regretted that all of that was behind him; it was a blessing to get to live a life where he was no longer Commander Nagisa, no longer Tabris, no longer the vessel for Adam’s soul.
Now, he could just be Kaworu . A normal man living a normal life, neither attached to any greater purpose nor bound by some predetermined fate. He could choose how to live his life, he could choose to live for himself, for his own sake. Finally, he was free , a luxury that had previously been denied to him up until his last few painful moments.
But now that he had it, he almost didn’t know what he wanted to do with it all.
Unconsciously, his attention focused back on the small plot of land in front of him. He noticed one of the seedlings was bent slightly, the whole tiny plant askew. He must’ve poured too much water on that one spot and washed too much of the soil holding it up away.
He gently set the plant upright and packed more dirt around it, propping it up once more. As helpless as it was right now, he was still amazed by its progress; from a few mere seeds scattered across warm, loose soil to burgeoning little plants in no time, each rapidly growing to their full potential. In just a few weeks they would be bearing silky petals of violet and white, mixing in with the other plants he’d painstakingly nurtured to maturity.
Seeing them grow, tending to them, being the one helping them thrive—even if his influence in this world was relegated to a small square of land set in the countryside, it was more than enough. Something, somewhere, still needed him.
Perhaps it wasn’t a purpose, but it was a start.
“These are all pretty fussy, aren’t they?” Kaji poked at one of the asters curiously, but with enough caution that Kaworu wasn’t worried about him damaging it.
“I don’t mind. It’s relaxing to spend time out here, tending to them,” he said fondly, pulling out a small weed from one of the planters. “I think you’d like it too if you gave it a try.”
“I think I’ll stick with watermelons for now. They’re more my style,” he laughed the suggestion off. “Speaking of which, I should get back to work. There are still a few I need to pull up.”
A beat passed. “Would you like some help?”
“Sure, but aren’t you a bit… occupied, at the moment?”
Kaworu took one of his gloves off to wipe the sweat from his brow. “I’ll be finished up here soon. Besides, I came here to help out with the farm, not just indulge in my hobby,” he giggled. “Just give me a few minutes, and I’ll be ready.”
“I appreciate it. But you don’t have to do anything, really. We wanted you over here to celebrate, not to put you to work,” Kaji reassured him. “You can relax a little today, of all days.”
“I insist. Things will go faster with the both of us,” Kaworu said firmly, turning away.
Not willing to push the issue any further, Kaji simply nodded his approval.
The second he managed to stumble close enough to the porch, Kaworu slumped onto it, exhausted to the bone. He was surprised he’d even managed to walk all the way back here, being as sore as he was. Now that he was sitting, he wasn’t sure how easy it would be to get up again.
Kaji, of course, looked perfectly fine.
“That was a bit more than just a few, Ryo-chan.”
He shrugged, grinning a little. “I did say you didn’t have to help, you know. But I appreciate it all the same,” he said, throwing his gloves off. “Besides, that was the last of it. No more harvesting until next summer, if that makes you feel any better.”
“It does, a little,” Kaworu laughed weakly. “I’m glad I could help.”
Kaji gave a quick thanks and excused himself inside for a moment, giving Kaworu a chance to relax fully. The chair set off to the side looked tempting, but he knew he’d get too drowsy to avoid sleep if he settled into one. That wouldn’t do; the night was still young. Instead, he propped himself up on his arms and let himself enjoy the view, now that the day’s work was over.
He was immediately glad he did. The sun was just at the horizon, barely peeking down beneath and bathing the fields in dusky pinks and purples that reminded him of his flowers, coating all he could see with it. The sky was quickly darkening, emphasizing the sun’s deep orange-red as it glinted off the bay, sending little shards of it breaking off and glimmering into the gentle waves as they crept towards the shore.
The shore. A space between land and sea, an intermediate, something that links two separate wholes. The first angel, and also that which becomes the last. A fitting name—though now, just in memory.
You’ve fulfilled your role more than enough.
Kaji’s voice rang through his mind with such clarity he could’ve sworn he was right there.
A sigh escaped him, long and shuddering. Those words weighed on his mind often, though usually not so heavily. It never left him, no matter how often he found himself coming to terms with an answer.
All of it was hard to contend with. This normal life, short and fleeting, without any overarching purpose for him to fulfill. One he was free to choose the course of, but without a goal to head in the direction towards.
He bit his lip. Was it even worth trying to figure out? He hadn’t been able to understand Shinji’s happiness, and he’d made that the central focus of his life more times than he cared to count. What hope did he have of ever understanding his own?
Kaworu exhaled deeply, as if casting out the bitter thought that had slithered in. He would just have to figure this out for himself, as daunting a task as it seemed. This uncertainty, this ambiguity, was just part of being a Lilin—a human, a person, someone free to choose their own fate, just like any other.
It was always what he’d wanted. Shinji wanted it for him, too. He knew he did.
“Shinji-kun…”
The name slipped past his lips without him realizing it as his gaze tracked down back to the shoreline. The red sea, the sun right up on the horizon, a warm hand, smaller than usual, gently reaching out to his own—
“...Are you alright?”
Kaworu nearly jumped when Kaji abruptly interrupted his reverie by nudging something cold a wet against his shoulder. His sluggishness worked to his advantage, this time; he was almost glad he was so sore.
“Perfectly fine,” he said evenly, but a bit too quickly. “Just a bit tired, that’s all.”
“Here, this’ll help you feel more alive,” Kaji handed the thing he’d just prodded him with, which he could now see was a water bottle, out so he could grab it. “Thanks for all the hard work earlier.”
Kaji plopped down next to Kaworu once he finally accepted it, not wasting a moment before gulping down his own. Kaworu wasn’t much better; in a matter of seconds he finished its contents, needing both the hydration and the distraction from his tumultuous thoughts that it brought.
“I got something else for you,” Kaji murmured lowly like he was telling him a closely-guarded secret. With a smirk, he produced two cans of something out from where he’d put them down behind him, holding them out like a prize. It took Kaworu a second to recognize what, exactly, they were.
“...Misato-san’s beer? The special kind? Aren’t these the ones she keeps hidden in the back specifically so you don’t take them?” Kaworu sighed. “When she finds out, she’ll get mad at us.”
“She’ll get mad at me,” the other man corrected, popping the can open for him and promptly shoving it into his hands. “You, on the other hand, get a free pass. At least for today, you do.”
Kaworu grudgingly accepted it. It felt cold in his hands, especially now that the weather had cooled down in absence of the sun beating overhead. He sipped at it cautiously, testing its taste, more out of curiosity than anything.
“I can see why she likes these. I should apologize to her for it before I leave, at least.”
Kaji pat him on the shoulder. Somehow, he was already half-done with his own can. “She’ll be fine with it. She wants today to be special for you, really. Do you want to know something?” he leaned in close enough to whisper into his ear. “She even made you a cake.”
Kaworu waited for him to reveal the statement as a joke, but the punchline never came. “...Really?”
“Sure did,” Kaji nodded. “Junior helped out too. They’ve been working on it all day. It’s really…” he paused. “Well, I mean, it’s… it’s definitely interesting, that’s for certain. She invited Ritsuko and that Ayanami girl over for some, too. They should probably be here soon.”
He paused a moment before running a hand through his hair, looking a little bashful. “I shouldn’t have let that slip, she wanted it to be a surprise,” he turned to the other to wink, “So, just try to act surprised when the time comes, if you don’t mind?”
“Of course.”
He continued sipping at his beer as Kaworu sat there silently, looking down at his own. Even if the reveal made him more happy than anything, he wasn’t fully sure what to think of it.
“That’s all… very generous of her. She didn’t have to do any of that,” he muttered. “Or anything at all, really.”
Kaji shrugged. “I mean, that’s kind of what people do on birthdays. It’s nothing special.”
Kaworu looked into the distance, not able to meet Kaji’s gaze. It took him a while to be able to say anything; he gave him the time.
“...I know this day still weighs heavily on her, even now. It wouldn’t be fair to expect her to have to pretend like she’s okay with it,” his voice faded to a whisper, one nearly lost on the soft wind that had picked up. “Or with my presence.”
Kaji hesitated a moment before squeezing his shoulder firmly. “None of that was your fault. It’s all in the past. There’s no point in dwelling on it.”
He kept his hand there a bit longer as a silence fell over them once more. He was right, of course; Kaworu knew very well how pointless it was to stay stuck in the past, to replay old traumas over and over again, unable to move forward. The past was in the past; it couldn’t be changed, but there was no sense in not letting go and moving on.
That didn’t mean it was easy to, though.
The two sat there and watched the sun as it slowly sunk below the horizon out of their view, taking the brilliant oranges and reds it produced along with it. A deep, vivid purple spread across the sky in its wake, blanketing everything beneath it in the comfortable haze of dusk turning into night. More and more stars began to peek through as it grew darker; just a few at first, but before long the sky was dotted with the glimmer of hundreds, thousands of stars, making the abyss of space above seem even more vast than before. He felt so small just looking at them.
“She just wants to make it up to you.”
Kaji said nothing more, knowing Kaworu understood full well what he meant. He unconsciously touched his neck; smooth, intact, with a steady pulse beating through it, safe and secure. He needed the reminder sometimes.
“She has no reason to,” he said eventually, so softly it nearly got drowned out by the cicadas. “It’s all in the past, right?”
“I suppose you’re right,” Kaji chuckled. “But that doesn’t mean you have to let go of it entirely.”
The moment lingered on a while more, both enjoying the night’s peace as it settled over them. It didn’t last for long; frantic footsteps thudded from deep inside the house with increasing urgency as they drew closer, stopping right at the porch door to slam it open.
“Dad! Mom and I really need help with the—”
He trailed off when his focus landed on Kaworu. The boy wavered a bit, trying to decide on what to say next. Kaworu just smiled at him.
“Th-the… the thing, you know. That we were talking about earlier,” he spat out in a rush. “It’s an emergency, hurry up!”
And with that, he was gone. He closed the door, a little more gently this time, and bolted off back into the house. Kaji drank the remnants of his beer in one final swig and finished with an airy, relieved sigh, closing his eyes as a breeze swept past them.
“Well, I should probably get going. It sounds like they need the help,” he groaned as he stretched his arms over his head, preparing to leave. Before he did, he quickly grabbed something he’d set aside earlier along with their drinks that Kaworu hadn’t noticed before. “But before I forget, here you go. I figured it would be better to give it to you now, before things get too hectic around here.”
It looked almost like a small paper box, save for the hastily-tied ribbon fixing it together. Wrapped in simple yet sturdy brown paper, it felt heavy in Kaworu’s hands as he accepted it, his fingers feeling along the smooth, sharp edges encased within.
“You didn’t say what you wanted, so I had to go with my instincts,” Kaji explained as Kaworu studied the gift like he didn’t know what to do with it. “I think you’re going to like it. Come on, open it up.”
Delicately, Kaworu untied the ribbon and ripped the paper away, gathering it into a small, neat pile in his lap. A book—a hefty one at that, with an immaculate, glossy cover that had handsome lettering sprawled across it, decorated in the center with an illustration of the constellations. A book about the stars.
“I figured it might come in handy sometime in the future. You never know.”
He excused himself before Kaworu could find the words he wanted to say. When he gathered himself enough, he felt a little bad; he hadn’t even thanked Kaji for the gift, even if he was sure the other man already knew how much it meant to him.
His gaze returned to the sky, not sure what he hoped to find there that he hadn’t before. It was the same as it had been before, the same as it had been hundreds, even thousands of years before now, never changing no matter how much the world looking up from beneath it did.
Was Shinji looking up at too, right now, thinking the same thing?
It was a nice thought, even if Kaworu had no way of knowing.
The breeze picked up enough to send his bangs flying into his eyes. It blew through the vines in the fields and through the leaves of the trees around it, softly rattling them with its force. His flowers, too, swayed in the wind as it wove past them, sending the faintest hint of the most fragrant ones his way.
With some effort, he picked himself up so he could move closer to them. Even nearby, they still nearly blended together in the dim light as the wind blew them together, blurring the distinctions between them.
Though a few still remained themselves. Not blending into the mass, still distinct in their form, their essence, their meaning.
Patience, love. Our souls are united. Enduring affection. I mourn your absence.
Carefully maintained and cultivated, growing strong and vibrant. He sometimes wondered if it was a waste of time, but never managed to come to a conclusion.
He heard Kaji yell his name from inside, ripping him from his thoughts. He sighed; he was too in his own head, as usual. Perhaps he should at least try to take a break from it once in a while like he was so often told to. It would probably do him some good.
Before he left, he took one more look at the stars above. It crept up on him, but he could feel a smile return to his face, a genuine one, as he watched them twinkling in the vastness above him. It felt comforting to be standing under them.
“We’ll keep meeting each other,” he whispered, as if making it real. “I’m sure of it.”
For now, that would be enough.