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The October chill bites into your skin, and you shiver, mind blank as you trace the familiar steps back to your home. Your arm and ribs still ache dully as the adrenaline wears off, and the drying tears feel sticky on your face.
This wouldn’t have been your first choice, returning to your parents. After all, you just had a very explosive and hurtful argument with them. And you had been so sure that you were right. That they were stifling your freedom and growth as a person under fierce overprotectiveness. Or in your father’s case, meek acceptance of whatever your mother decided.
You stifle a sob, remembering your mother’s constant teachings. She had always believed crying was a sign of weakness. Oh, if she could see you now, all the things she would say. She had warned you after all, in that logical but aggressive way that you had inherited. The position you were in was all your fault, after all.
It was stupid to choose a boy over your family, your mother had told you. But you had been so sure Ren had been right. That living with him for at least a little while had been the right choice. Because Ren had been kind, generous, and giving, at least at first. But he had a nasty temper and well…
You swallow down the memories, even as your ribs ached. Part of you still felt like a little girl, running home to her parents after getting herself into way too much trouble. But part of you craves the protection now, and you don't know where else to go. Part of you wonders if you would find protection here, rather than your dad’s quietly disappointed gaze or your mother’s verbal lashings. Plus, they always hid things from you.
You find yourself outside a familiar doorway. You hesitate for a moment, seeing the light on inside, before pressing the door. A figure’s shadow visibly moves closer, and you hold your breath, hoping your mother isn’t on the other side.
The door opens, and you breathe a sigh of relief as you have to lift your head to make eye contact with the man on the other side of the door.
“Akari,” your dad says, almost as if he doesn’t believe what he is seeing. He looks tired - you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen bags under his eyes. And he’s still dressed in his work clothes, a boring button-up and slacks that could be found on any other working-class salaryman. But he seems relieved to see you, and part of you relaxes. “You’re here.”
“Hi Dad,” you say, unsure of where to start. “How have you been?” didn’t seem to cut it when you’ve been gone for the last couple of weeks.
There’s another gust of wind, and you shiver again. Your dad takes notice. “Come in,” he gestures, and then he hesitates, like he’s wondering if he’s saying something untoward. You step in before he can say anything else.
“Where’s Mom?” you ask, furtively scanning the living room as if she were about to jump out to launch an inquisition.
“She’s not home yet,” your dad replies, and you blink. Because, as much as your mother was a hardass to everyone and anyone, including you, she had always shown softness to your dad. Your mother would never admit it, but you knew that she timed her shifts so she would come home at the same time your dad would. You open your mouth to ask a question, but pause, he looks tense, somehow, and it’s not hard to find an explanation.
Your parents never really fought. Your mother might raise her voice to you, but never to your dad. Every time they would get close to a fight, your dad would whisper something to her, or your mother would visibly catch herself, and they’d talk it out. You’ve always been jealous that behavior had been reserved for your dad rather than you.
But it looks like you could break even your mother’s infinite patience with your father. “Ah,” you say, not really sure of what else to say.
“Do you want something to eat?” Your dad asks. His hand brushes against your arm, and you instinctively flinch back. “Akari?” Your dad is looking at you with those soft blue eyes that he’s always looked at you with, filled with concern. The same color as your mother's, but so fundamentally different. “Are you hurt?”
You nod because you’re finding it hard to speak with the lump in your throat.
“Can I see?” There’s no demand in his voice, and you so want to let someone else know. You slowly lift your sleeve, exposing the bluish purplish bruise.
Your father’s expression doesn’t change at the sight. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asks.
You start to speak, but something undignified comes out. You cough, and your throat burns. You don’t want to cry because your dad didn’t deserve to worry like this. Maybe it would have been better if your mom was the one at home. At least she wouldn’t worry about it either way. “My ribs,” you manage to get out.
“Okay, let’s do this. Take a shower, your room is still ready. I’m going to get dinner started, and I’ll help you with your wounds, okay?”
You nod and don’t register much else as your dad leads you into your childhood room, gets some pajamas for you, and turns on the shower. It’s only when you sink into the hot water that the tears come hard and fast.
You step out of the shower, feeling lighter, somehow, making sure that you look like not a total wreck. You find your dad in the kitchen, and he smiles at you, putting a big bowl of udon in front of you. That’s been your dad since the very beginning. A man of few words, but always reliable. Plus, your mother spoke enough for both your parents. Your dad was the one you would go to when you needed to feel safe. The one you secretly pitied sometimes, when you considered who he was married to.
That was uncharitable to your mother, you know. Your mother loved you, in her own competitive, possessive way. And there was no doubt your mother was a brilliant woman. But it seemed like nothing you could do would ever be enough for your mother.
Your dad watches you as you eat, taking slow, measured bites of his own food. You glance superstitiously at the clock. It’s nine, and your mother still isn’t home. That isn’t like her at all.
“Mom’s not home yet?” you ask again.
Again, there’s that pressed little smile your dad does when he’s trying his best to put a brave face on for you. “No, she’s not usually home that early these days.”
“When did this happen?” you probe, but you already know the answer. Your dad’s refusal to answer your questions is enough. He wordlessly shifts to applying some ointment on your bruises carefully, and getting you to drink some painkillers.
“Akari,” your dad starts, locking his gaze on yours. You straighten up unconsciously. “Did someone do this to you?”
“What?” you say. “No, of course not,” you lie, unconvincingly, and your dad keeps on looking at you steadily. “I don’t want to talk about it,” you change up tactics, but your dad is frustratingly persistent.
“Akari,” his soft, warm hands cover yours, and you feel yourself relaxing. “I’ll always be on your side. You can be honest with me.”
A rush of emotions threatens to break free, and you open your mouth to voice them. Then the doorbell rings, and you startle.
“That must be your mother,” your dad says with the same even voice. “I’ll tell her you’re here. Be right back.” He stands up, leaving you to fidget nervously at the dinner table.
You strain to hear the conversation in the foyer. “Shinji, I don’t care what you have to say, I’m going to call up Section 2. It’s been enough time.” Your mother’s words carry, even through the house.
Your dad must have opened his mouth to say something, because your mother snaps at him. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? I don’t care what you have to say, I’m calling Section 2,” she repeats, and there’s a flash of indignation on your father’s behalf.
“Asuka,” your dad always said your mom’s name so fucking softly even when she was being totally unreasonable. “Akari is here. She’s in the kitchen.”
You barely have time to start worrying when your mother bursts into the kitchen. She cuts an imposing figure, clad in her coat jacket, with her ID badge that proudly labels her as DIRECTOR.
“Akari,” your mom says, oddly softly, just like your dad. She looks at you, almost shocked, before continuing her movement. “Where have you been? Do you know how worried we were?” Her volume is rising, and with it, your irritation.
“I’ve been just fine, Mom!” you snap back, knowing you had not been fine. Not even close.
“Don’t take that tone with me,” your mother commands, and you just roll your eyes at her. Not even 30 seconds after reuniting, and you two were already fighting. Poor Dad. But then, your mother stops and starts staring at you. Nervously, you look down and realize these loose pajamas don’t hide the bruises at all.
“Who did this to you?” your mom grabs your arm, forcing the sleeve back and holding the bruise up like it was some guilty secret. Your arm twinges in protest; your mom is strong.
When you don’t answer, your mother speaks again, in a more dangerous tone. “Akari, you’re going to tell me who exactly did this to you.”
You look at your dad for help, but he’s sitting in the back, arms crossed, eyes asking the same question. The pounding in your ears gets louder, and you snap.
“Ren!” you shout. “You were fucking right, mom. Is that what you wanted to hear?” You pull your arm out of her grasp. “You were right about Ren. He wasn’t who I thought he was. And now I’m here, coming back to you and Dad because I wasn’t ready to be on my own. I’m as pathetic as you said I am. Happy?” There are hot tears coming down your face again, but you’re too angry to deal with them.
Your mother is backing up, looking haunted, but you’re too filled with emotion to think about that. Your dad steps forward, always the mediator. “Akari,” he says lowly. “Your mother and I just want you to be safe. We just want you to trust us with this.”
“Trust?” you laugh. You really shouldn’t be revealing this, but you can’t find it in yourself to care anymore. “Funny you say that when you can’t even trust me!”
Your dad pauses and then swallows. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” you say, mockingly. “What about the fact that you and Mom were EVA pilots?” At your declaration, both your parents seem to freeze. “Funny thing about my internship at NERV last summer; it gave me way too much access to the personnel records. You must have thought about that because both your files were hidden. But Unit 00’s pilot, Rei Ayanami? Totally open.” You hear your mother mutter something derogatory about “Wondergirl” under her breath, and your dad shoots her a look. You pay little attention to that. “And in the after-action reports? You two! Lo and behold, my parents are the pilots of EVA Unit-01 and Unit-02. Crazy! Almost as if it’s something they should have shared with their only daughter.”
It’s a silly argument, and part of you knows it. But you’re breathing heavily and still crying, and you aren’t going to be the first one to back down.
An eternity passes, but maybe it was a couple of minutes. Your mom is still frozen, looking distant, regret lining the edges of her eyes. You haven’t ever seen that posture from your mom before. She looks a lot less like the indomitable Director Asuka Langley Soryu-Ikari that you’ve known all your life and a lot more like the little girl you saw on a stretcher in those EVA after-action reports. Your dad steps forward again.
“You’re right,” he nods quietly, looking at you. “We should have told you. We should have trusted you with that. It’s just that,” now he looks distant, staring at some point beyond you. “Your mother and I both did things during that time that we aren’t proud of. But you deserve to know.”
At your father’s words, something dark flashes over your mother’s face, and she moves into action, stepping out of the kitchen. “I gotta make a phone call,” she announces, not really to anyone. You can hear the beginning of her conversation from outside. “This is the director,” she says, tone back to being all business. “Get me the Commander of Section 2.”
You and your dad stare after her. “Why don’t you get some rest?” your dad smiles at you, tired. “We’ll talk more in the morning.” You nod as your father stands up to start cleaning the dishes and to start heating up your mother’s dinner. You aren’t sure you’ll ever understand your parents.
Shinji watches his wife carefully as she paces at the other end of the shared bedroom. “Asuka,” he softly says, and his wife ignores him. “Please come to bed.”
“I’ve got to start organizing a surveillance party on this Ren,” she responds blithely. “He’s gotta be dealt with.”
“And he will be,” Shinji says evenly. “But tonight, let’s try to get some sleep.”
Asuka stops, rounding on him. “Doesn’t it bother you? Not even a little bit?” At his lack of response, Asuka continues. “Our daughter has been abused,” she hisses, and tears are starting to well in her eyes. Shinji waits because he knows that with Asuka, she has to be the one to say it. “And I want to kill the fucker who did that to her.”
Shinji nods because there has been a cold rage that has been building ever since Akari showed up on their doorstep.
“But you must have selective memory or something. Because what did you tell Akari?” Asuka scoffs. “Right, we weren’t proud of the things that we did during that time. I have no idea what you were thinking of for yourself, but I know exactly what I regret!”
Asuka turns away, looking at the floor. “Because I did the same thing to you.”
“Asuka…” Shinji tries, feeling dread beginning to pool in his stomach. They’d healed from the third impact and what came after, surely, and slowly. But it’s been many years since they’ve discussed those months after instrumentality. He had hoped Asuka had truly let it go. But she had always been the stubborn one out of the two of them.
“Don’t even act like what I did was any different.” Asuka was still refusing to look at him. “You and I both remember what I did after Instrumentality. I beat you within an inch of your life, just because I wanted to.”
“Asuka,” Shinji tried again, but his wife turned on him, tears glimmering in her eyes.
“Did you feel the same way?” There’s something desperate in her beautiful blue eyes that Shinji wants to wipe away. “As Akari? Did you feel pathetic because you loved someone who hurt you basically for fun?”
Shinji wants to lie and is about to, but Asuka has always been a step ahead of him. “Don’t you dare lie to me.”
He swallows because seeing Asuka like this hurts. But he remembers those days with crystal clarity. He doesn’t remember every moment in extreme detail, unlike Asuka. But he does remember how he felt. Useless and worthless, but still utterly in love with the girl who hated him. “I did,” he admits. “But I understand why you did it. You had good reasons-”
Asuka scoffs. “Don’t even start with that.” She moves to leave their bedroom, and Shinji rushes to follow. She stops, but doesn’t turn around. “Why are you even here?” Asuka asks, defeated. “Why would you do all this?” she gestures around at their home. “Sleep in the same bed, build a life together, have a child with someone who,” she closes her eyes, “with someone who hurt you just because they could.”
Before Shinji can respond, Asuka storms out of their bedroom, leaving him cold and alone.
Asuka doesn’t sleep a wink that night. She could blame the guest bed, but she knows that isn’t it. She can only remember a couple of times in her life she had such trouble sleeping. When she found her mother hanging from that noose. When her sync rate went to zero. When she left Shinji bloody on his own bedroom floor, and all she had left to surround herself with were reminders of her violence. When the pregnancy was confirmed and she lay awake, wondering how someone like her could ever bring life into this world. And now, tonight.
She twists her fists in frustration. She was going get this Ren character. Being the director of NERV had its perks. And then after-
If you want to kill Ren, what does that mean for you? An ugly part of her asked.
She’d do anything Shinji wanted with herself, really. She doesn’t understand why Shinji forgave her in the first place, and she sure doesn’t understand his forgiveness now.
Something heavy lands on her bed, and there’s a hand on the small of her back. Only years of familiarizing herself with every part of Shinji stop her instinctive reaction to fight off an attacker. “Scoot,” Shinji says. “This bed is smaller than ours.”
“I thought I told you to leave me alone,” Asuka grumps, but there’s a traitorous part of her that’s elated.
“And if this is what I want instead?” Shinji says into her hair as he embraces her from behind.
“Then you’re an absolute, grade A, idiot.”
“Your idiot.” Asuka can feel Shinji’s smile on her scalp, and she can’t help but smile too. “You were right, you know?” At her questioning hum, Shinji continues. “We should have forced Akari to stay. I wanted her to explore the world for herself. And-”
Asuka presses her hands onto Shinji’s, trying to provide comfort. “You couldn’t have known,” she said, because an “I told you so” would be insensitive. “I don’t think she would have listened anyway. And she needs to think that someone is on her side between the two of us.”
A moment passes before Shinji speaks again. “I’m going to tell Akari all of it tomorrow.” Asuka’s silence must prompt him to continue. “Everything, the EVAs, our missions, the attack on NERV,” Shinji’s voice falters, “What I did to you that day.”
Asuka can't stop the grimace on her face. Stupid Shinji, always thinking about that moment. “I thought I told you to stop feeling guilty about that ages ago. Plus, if you’re telling her about that, then it’s only fair to tell her what came after, hm?”
At that, Shinji frowns. “I don’t want to be unfair to you.”
Asuka laughs, but it's bitter. “And what, it’s fair to portray yourself as some sort of sexual predator without talking about how I beat you within an inch of your life?” She shakes her head. “I thought we were supposed to move on from the excessive self-hatred.” Shinji fixes her an unamused glare, turning his palms as if to highlight her hypocrisy. “This isn’t very enlightened of us,” she acknowledges.
“Maybe not,” Shinji agrees. “But it’s us.” And that’s the truth, after all. What they had may be unadvisable under any objective measurement, given how much bitter history they shared. But it was what they were, and Asuka wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Asuka sighs. It was annoying when Shinji was right. “Akari already hates me,” she says lightly, hoping that her casual tone hides how much that matters to her. “We don’t need her to hate her dad too.”
Shinji’s hold on her tightens. Guess the casual tone didn’t work. “Don’t say that.”
“What? It’s true. You’re definitely her preferred parent.”
“I like to think of it like you’re both too similar, so you clash.” Shinji nuzzles into her back in a way her child self would never have allowed. “But she loves you, just like you love her.”
She hums neutrally. “If you say so.”
“As someone who loves you both, I think I’m the most reliable source.”
“I think that just makes you biased,” Asuka shakes her head, but laughs lightly anyway. “And Shinji?” she turns back to look at him. So different than the boy she met all those years ago, but still everything she’s ever wanted. “I forgive you.”
His eyes slacken, and his expression softens in understanding. “And I forgive you. And I’ll keep on repeating it until you stop arguing with me.”
“You’re going to repeat it for a very long time,” she warns. “I’m very good at arguing.”
“Good thing I have all the time in the world, then.” It’s stupid how little statements from him can still get such a response from her after all this time. She presses her lips to his because even after all these years, she still doesn’t know what to do with all these feelings.
Their family isn’t ideal, and they might never be. But maybe this would be enough.