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Shinji watched as Kaji leaned against the terrace railing, his posture loose, eyes lost in the sunset. He looked at peace, something unfamiliar to the boy. It was strange, almost unsettling, to see someone so at ease with the world.
“I hope you don’t mind me being here,” Kaji said, his gaze still on the horizon.
“Oh-uh, no. You’re welcome here, Mr. Kaji,” Shinji replied, straightening instinctively. “I didn’t think you noticed me.”
Kaji gave a soft chuckle. “The older you get, the more you start noticing the little things.”
Was it true? Did everything really become clearer the longer you lived? Shinji supposed it made a kind of sense. The more you experienced, the more patterns started to emerge—repeating, overlapping, making things easier to recognize, maybe even understand.
Did that apply to other people, too? Would it make it easier to talk to Asuka? To know what to say or when to stay silent?
Without realizing it, his feet had moved on their own. He now stood beside Kaji, shoulder to shoulder, the quiet between them filled only by the rustling wind and the last light of day.
“So, how are things looking for tomorrow?” Kaji asked, his voice easy, almost casual. “I know this week’s been a big shift for you.”
“I… don’t know,” Shinji said, his shoulders easing slightly as he stared out at the horizon. “I guess it’s been fine. Could’ve been a lot worse?”
Kaji gave a thoughtful hum. “Maybe you’ve found your type of girl, then.”
“Eh—w-what?!” Shinji snapped his head toward Kaji, eyes wide like he’d seen a ghost.
The unshaven man grinned, not looking at him. “Come on, you can’t tell me there isn’t something there—after a whole week, with just her, most of the time.”
“It’s not like that…” he muttered, eyes dropping to the ground, as if it might offer a way out of the conversation. A faint pink crept into his cheeks.
The truth was—he didn’t know what it was like. He had never met anyone as confusing as Asuka. People like his father were hard to understand because they made themselves unreachable, closed off by design. But Asuka… Asuka turned every moment into a gamble.
She mocked him, tore at his flaws with ease, then hovered close, like none of that mattered. Like it was all part of the same rational behavior.
And the worst part was, he couldn’t bring himself to hate it.
Did it bother him? Yeah.
If it kept going like this, would he get tired of it, maybe even grow to resent her? Probably.
But did he hate it?
Not really, and he didn't know why.
"Has Asuka always been like this?" He asked, hoping the man the redhead trusted the most could answer with some really needed knowledge.
“I don’t think I’m the right person to answer that,” Kaji said, pushing off the railing and straightening up before leaning back, this time facing Shinji fully. “She’s her own person. No one can really know someone well enough to define something like that for them.”
He paused for a moment, eyes somewhat tired.
"I’m sorry.” Shinji looked down again, now with a hint of shame.
“Don’t worry, kiddo,” Kaji said with a half-smile. “But why don’t you go ask her that?”
A short snort escaped Shinji, followed by a small, defeated smile. “She never tells me anything about herself… I think she doesn't like me.”
Kaji raised an eyebrow. “Have you told her anything about yourself?”
Shinji hesitated. “No…”
There was a pause.
“Do you dislike her?”
Shinji blinked. “Oh…”
Maybe she was right, he can be an idiot sometimes.
“I just… I don’t like the way she treats me,” Shinji said, his voice low, almost uncertain. “She keeps saying I’m doing things wrong, and I… I want to understand.”
Kaji tilted his head slightly. “And why do you want to understand?”
“So she’ll stop being like that with me.”
Another pause.
“Is that the only reason you want to understand?”
“I…” Shinji opened his mouth, shaping silent words, searching for something real to say. But nothing came. In the end, he fell back on the only answer he could give.
“I don’t know.”
Kaji gave him a smile, warmer than the usual vague, distant ones he wore. It held something closer to recognition.
“Well,” he said gently, “if you want to understand her, maybe you should start by understanding why you want to.”
He tapped the side of his head with a finger, almost like a teacher offering a quiet lesson.
“Doing things without knowing why you’re doing them… that’s dangerous. But just thinking about it, without ever acting, that’s not much better. If you care about someone, you have to make the effort to understand why you care and what it is you want from that understanding. Only then can you start to make sense of what others are really saying to you."
“So… are you saying I have to think?” Shinji asked, half-joking, half-serious.
“Something like that,” Kaji replied with a small shrug. “You’re a smart kid. You’ll figure it out.”
Smart? Shinji wasn’t so sure. Most of the time, it felt like he was just drifting—pulled from one moment to the next, barely choosing, barely resisting. Just floating.
Interest meant asking. And asking meant risking answers you didn’t want.
Still… maybe that was the only way forward. Maybe it was a gamble he needed to take.
“Thanks, Mr. Kaji,” he said, a quiet smile spreading across his face.
“Don’t worry, kiddo.”
The last sliver of sun dipped below the horizon, and the moon rose to take its place, casting its pale light over the two of them.
"This is the impenetrable Wall of Jericho! One step over this line and you're a dead man, Third!" Asuka declared dramatically, kneeling as she held the door like a barricade.
Shinji remained still on his futon, one eyebrow raised in mild confusion as he watched the redhead’s theatrical display.
"Alright? I wasn’t planning on sneaking into your room in the middle of the night," he replied, rolling his eyes, somehow managing to annoy her even more.
"Fine, whatever. I guess it’s time for the little boy to go to sleep," she grumbled, pulling the door shut with a final huff.
"Good night… Asuka?"
The SDAT lay on the floor next to him, silent. He hadn’t felt like listening to the music that had once kept him company.
Now, his mind was running at full speed, searching for… something.
What it was, he couldn’t say.
All he knew was that it had something to do with his roommate. She seemed more irritable than usual, even by her standards.
What had he done wrong now?
Think…
What exactly were the walls of Jericho?
Shinji got up and walked silently over to the small pile of books near their school bags. He sifted through them, pulling out a few that Asuka had brought with her. Among them, he found the only one related to historical events.
He had to at least try with the only thing that had a direct meaning, trying to discern any of her other words would put him into the realm of hidden messages and indirect motives, something he already knew he was inhumanly terrible at.
He flipped through the pages, skimming until his eyes landed on a passage:
"The Walls of Jericho are a significant historical and biblical landmark, primarily referring to the fortifications of the ancient city of Jericho. These walls, built around 800 BCE, were constructed to protect the city from intruders and were initially made of massive stone and mudbrick. The walls formed a multi-layered defensive system, with a stone retaining wall at the base and a mudbrick wall on top, along with a second, higher wall inside. The biblical story of Jericho's fall involves the Israelites marching around the city, eventually causing the walls to collapse, allowing them to enter and conquer it."
"Gotcha!" he said, clenching one fist and raising it slightly in a small gesture of triumph, a quiet, personal victory.
Of what, exactly? He wasn’t sure.
Now that he had the information… what was he supposed to do with it?
Understand…
"Defensive system…" he muttered, his finger resting thoughtfully against his chin.
"Jericho was a city…"
"The invasion…"
His hand drifted to the side of his head as a possible answer surfaced, unwelcome and sudden. The moment it fully formed, a cold sweat ran down his back, gripping his core and washing away any trace of triumph.
It was replaced by a tightening anxiety.
"The wall of Jericho fell…"
He didn’t have it in him to open the door.
He wasn’t even sure how long he’d been standing there, just inches away, frozen. Long enough for his legs to ache. Long enough to hear her still moving around inside.
She wasn’t asleep. Not yet.
Maybe… maybe he had actually gotten the hint. Maybe she wanted him to open the door. But then what? What was he even supposed to do once he was inside?
Do things?
What things?
What the hell was her deal, anyway? He couldn’t even keep track anymore, had she called him a pervert more times than an idiot? It was probably a close tie. And honestly, it was getting irritating.
Not that he usually got offended. Most of the time, insults just bounced off. He didn’t care.
So why did he care now?
Why did she get under his skin like this?
She was annoying. Irritating. Mean. Arrogant. Disrespectful.
Beautiful.
Motivating. Assertive. Bright—like something burning too close to look at for long.
She treated him like someone worth talking to, even if it was just to get on his nerves. Even if it was just to call him names. And he had no idea what to make of the thoughts swirling around her, just that he wanted more of it.
More of her.
And suddenly, the idea of opening that door didn’t seem so impossible. It was starting to feel… right.
But—
If he opened it and was met with nothing but another insult, or worse, one of her mocking stares or a harsh kick…
He didn’t know how he’d take it.
Maybe it would hurt more than he wanted to admit.
For now, he had to accept it, he didn’t have what it took to make that gamble. Not tonight.
The doubt would stay with him, buzzing in the back of his mind like a swarm he couldn’t swat away. It would whisper to him in the dark, poking at his thoughts when he tried to sleep.
And with tomorrow’s battle looming, he couldn’t afford that. Not the distractions. Not the noise in his head.
He had to do something.
Shinji slowly sank to the floor, sitting with his back against the door. The SDAT rested in his hands as he fiddled with it, running his thumb over the worn buttons, flipping it open, closing it again.
Then, he took a deep breath.
“Asuka, are you awake?”
He could hear frantic movement on the other side of the door—quick steps, maybe a shuffle as she moved closer. But the door stayed shut.
“Do you know what time it is, Third?! What the hell!” she shouted, as if she hadn’t been wide awake too.
He sighed, but he wasn’t ready to drop it yet.
“Sorry… I just couldn’t sleep.”
“And that’s my problem because?”
“I just wanted to see if you wanted to talk…”
There was a pause—long enough for him to feel stupid for saying it. Then:
“That’s new. When did you learn how to talk?”
He groaned, already regretting this. He could practically feel her smirking through the door.
“Never mind… I’m going to sleep,” he muttered, already halfway through putting his headphones on.
Then he paused.
He felt it—something shift on the other side of the door. A tension, small but noticeable.
“Okay, okay,” her voice came again, less sharp this time. “Just… tell me what that peanut brain of yours has going on inside.”
He took another deep breath, letting it steady him. Just relax—just a little. Give it one more chance.
“...Aren’t you scared?” he asked quietly. “If we fail tomorrow… we’re done.”
There was only a beat of silence before her voice came back, sharp and firm:
“Just so you know, I haven’t spent an entire week in hell for you to start doubting the night before, Third. I swear, if you drag us down, you’re going to pay.”
He winced a little but didn’t back down.
“Sorry… it’s just that I still can’t get used to this. A few months ago, I was just another student." He caught himself—another nobody, not this time. He’d almost said it. But maybe part of him didn’t believe it anymore.
“Aren’t you Mr. Pokerface’s son?” she shot back. “What, were you too lazy to follow the proper training regimen since you were five?”
There was venom in her words. He felt it, sharp and deliberate. But why? Why was she so angry that he had been doing well while not being carved up by this life like she had? Did she want to see him hurt?
“I didn’t even know what EVAs were four months ago!” he snapped. “Or Angels! They blackmailed me into piloting that goddamn thing!”
His voice nearly cracked with the force of it. He reined himself in just enough—not wanting to wake Misato, or the bird somehow still asleep in the freezer.
“Wait… blackmailing?” she asked, her tone shifting—less aggressive, more intrigued.
“I didn’t want to at first,” he said, quieter now. “Then they… they tried to make Rei pilot it instead. Even though she was barely able to stand. I just… I couldn’t walk away.”
There was a pause. Then, soft—barely above a whisper, like it had slipped out on accident:
“Hm. So she might not be his favorite doll…”
Shinji sighed, a groan rumbling in his throat. “Are you still on about that? Really?”
“Come on, don’t be an idiot!” Asuka snapped, louder now. “You see how he hovers over her—like she’s the most precious thing in the world. Even though she’s the worst pilot out of the three of us!”
And just like that, silence fell again. Heavy. Loaded.
“She lives in a goddamn hovel, Asuka,” he shot back, unable to keep the edge out of his voice. “Her apartment looks like it’s one step away from collapsing, and I’m pretty sure she only owns seven identical uniforms. That’s it.”
He knew she could feel the frown on his face, even through the door. But he didn’t care.
“So, sorry,” he said bitterly. “But I don’t think she’s anyone’s favorite. I doubt he’s even capable of liking someone else.”
The last words hit harder than he expected, more truth in them than he meant to let out. Maybe too much.
Another pause followed, but this one didn’t feel so heavy.
Just… quiet.
“So… does it take an albino with blue hair for you to stop being a wimp?”
Her voice sounded strange, tight, like she had to push the words out. But they still landed like a slap.
“Why are you like this, Asuka…” he asked, quieter now. Tired.
“I dunno,” she shot back, not missing a beat. “Why are you such a doormat all the time?”
“I just don’t get why you treat me like this,” he said, a trace of pain slipping through. “All the time.”
“Sheesh,” she scoffed, but it lacked her usual fire. “Didn’t know you were that delicate. Thought they’d at least pick someone tougher for this job.”
He didn’t reply right away.
Just sat there, back still against the door, feeling that familiar sting in his eyes. The one he hated. The one that came when he let things get too close.
“Please, Asuka,” he said, voice low, almost breaking. “Just… stop.”
She didn’t stop.
“You’re so sensitive, you know that?” Her voice was louder now, but uneven, almost like she was trying to convince herself as much as him. “You want everyone to treat you like you’re made of glass, like you don’t go out there and fight monsters every goddamn week!”
He flinched but stayed silent.
“You have to be tough!” she went on, and now it was her voice that cracked, just a little. “I didn’t come all this way, go through all that training, just to be stuck with teammates who fold under pressure… and still get treated the same as if I didn’t do an actual effort!”
That last word hung in the air. Bitterness. Hurt. Pride.
And underneath it
something else.
Something almost like fear.
“Is that what you want from me?” he asked, voice rising—frustration bleeding through.
“What?” she snapped back, caught off guard.
“Do you want me to be stronger?”
“Yes! Haven’t you been listening, idiot?!”
“Then why can’t you help me?” His voice cracked with something deeper than anger. “You’re the one who’s freaking amazing at this—for God’s sake!”
There was a pause. Something shifted.
“…You think I’m amazing?” she asked, voice softer, suspicious.
“I’ve seen your training records, Asuka,” he said, words tumbling out now. “You look so natural in the Eva… like you were born for it. You make it all look so freaking easy.”
He dragged a shaky breath in.
“And it just… it frustrates me. I want to be better. I want to do this right. But I don’t know how.”
he took another breath, slower, more intricate
“When I met you for the first time…” he began, quieter now, “…I thought you were really cool.”
She didn’t say anything.
“I mean it,” he went on. “You were the coolest girl I’d ever seen. You were loud, confident, fearless… You almost made me feel confident just by being near you.”
His fingers tightened slightly around the SDAT in his hands.
“When they told me you were the Second Child, I thought… ‘If I’m doing the same job as her, then maybe we have something in common, right?’ That’s what I told myself.”
He let the words hang there, raw and honest.
“But you just keep insulting me,” he said, his voice tight, almost pleading. “It hurts, Asuka. I mean it. I need to know what problem you have with me. I want to fix it, if I can.”
There was a pause. Then her voice came through the door—solid, sharp, but… thoughtful.
“What do you want?”
He blinked. “What?”
“You heard me,” she said again. “What do you want? Why do you even care about any of this?”
“I already told—”
“No, you haven’t.” Her voice cut in, firm. Not angry—just certain. “You say all this. You want things from me—answers, kindness, whatever—but you haven’t told me why. Why do you want this from me?"
That stopped him cold. He’d never heard her sound like this. Not cruel. Not teasing.
Just… demanding something real.
“I just…” he hesitated, but forced the words out, “I just want us to be friends.”
A beat.
“Why?” she asked again—calm, measured, but unrelenting.
“Because… I’d like to be your friend?”
“You’re not answering me.”
He groaned in frustration, palms pressing into his face.
“I don’t know, okay?! Can’t we just be friends?! Why does there have to be a reason?”
Silence again—but this time it stretched longer. He could almost hear her thinking.
Then, finally, her voice came through, quieter than before:
“…Because people don’t just want to be friends with me.”
He remained silence, something stirring inside him, he knew that feeling well, maybe too much.
“Do you hate me?” he asked, softly.
There was a pause—too long.
“What?!” she shot back, startled. But he didn’t flinch.
“Do you hate me, Asuka?”
“Why would I hate you?” Her voice was sharper now, like she was trying to brush it off, but something in it wavered.
“…”
He didn’t answer. Just let the silence speak for him.
Finally, she said—more quietly this time—“I don’t hate you.”
A faint, sad smile tugged at his lips.
“I don’t hate you either.”
He leaned his head back against the door, staring at the ceiling, that same smile still there. Tired, a little broken, but real.
And for once, there was no yelling.
Just… stillness.
“May I be your friend?” he asked quietly. “Or at least… a good coworker?”
He waited.
No answer.
No sound. No shifting. No sarcasm. No insults.
Just stillness.
The kind that made his heart thud a little harder in his chest.
Had she walked away from the door? Was she even still there?
He didn’t know.
But for some reason, he didn’t move either. Just sat there, waiting—hoping she was still on the other side, even if she didn’t know what to say.
Even if he didn’t.
The Titans soared through the sky, moving as one. For 62 seconds, a symphony of human precision unfolded—each movement honed to perfection, their coordination so seamless it was as if their souls had merged into a single entity.
Their combined assault struck the Angel with devastating force, a relentless barrage that tore through mountains as the colossal being’s body shattered beneath the onslaught.
The Angel’s core cracked open, releasing a blinding explosion that engulfed them both.
The command room erupted in cheers as both Evangelions stood triumphant within the crater left by the blast, their poses unwavering—a testament to the pilots’ relentless effort and hard-earned victory.
“Good job, kids. You earned this,” Misato said, pride clear in her voice.
“You know it! That was amazing!” Asuka’s voice rang through the comms, full of excitement and adrenaline.
But Shinji couldn’t shake the feeling that those words weren’t meant for their guardian.
Night fell once more, and the closet had finally been transformed into a proper room, allowing him to lie down in a real bed again.
He stared up at the ceiling, the taste of victory still fresh in his mind. But it wasn’t triumph that kept sleep from coming.
Something else was stirring beneath the surface.
“…Because people don’t just want to be friends with me.”
The memory echoed, sharper now in the quiet. Her voice hadn’t cracked, but it didn’t need to—he could feel the hurt hiding beneath those words. And it stung more than it should have. Not because it was aimed at him, but because it wasn’t.
Remembering it just felt painful.
And the pain wasn’t even his.
What happened to her? he thought. Why is she like this?
He didn’t have the answers. He’d tried thinking about it, over and over, but nothing made sense. Whatever she was carrying, it was deep, hidden under all that fire and pride.
Could he understand that kind of pain?
It doesn’t feel like it, he admitted to himself.
But maybe he could.
A sound echoed softly from the corridor—footsteps, light and deliberate, drawing closer to his room. Instinctively, he shut his eyes and slowed his breathing, feigning sleep without even thinking.
The door creaked open.
He kept still.
Then, the soft pat of bare feet against the floor. Hesitant. Pausing.
A shift in the mattress. A weight.
Someone had climbed into the bed.
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just felt the warmth of another body beside him—close, almost too close.
Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes.
There she was.
Lying beside him, only inches away. A girl his age, but in that moment, it was impossible to see her as just that. Her face was serene, softened by sleep or something near it. So peaceful, so still… like she belonged to a world without pain.
His eyes traced the curve of her features—the delicate lines of her lips, the way her lashes cast faint shadows against her cheeks. Her skin looked impossibly smooth, and her hair, even in the dimness, seemed to shimmer, catching what little light there was like silk.
She didn’t look like the sharp, fiery girl who barked orders or threw insults like knives.
She looked like someone else entirely.
Like a secret only this moment could reveal.
How would it feel to kiss her?
The thought came uninvited, whispering through his mind with a weight he didn’t expect. She was right there—so close. Her breath, soft and slow, brushed against his skin in the stillness of the room.
Could he…?
But then—
"Mama…"
The word slipped from her lips like a breath caught between dreams. A single tear traced down her cheek, cutting through that serene mask like a crack in porcelain.
And just like that, the thought vanished.
His heart ached, but not with longing.
With understanding and pain.
Whatever strength she showed in daylight, whatever armor she wore, it was all paper-thin in moments like these. Beneath it, she was hurting. Maybe even more than he was.
So he stayed still.
And so he simply watched over her, in silence.
Until a thought stirred in him, small, uncertain.
Slowly, carefully, he reached out and took her hand in his.
His grip was gentle, hesitant at first… then firm, reassuring. Not demanding, not asking, just there. A quiet promise.
If he lived to see tomorrow, maybe he’d pay the price for this.
Maybe she’d yell, or scoff, or call him names.
But right now?
He didn’t care.
In that moment, he was simply grateful.
Grateful that the door to his room didn’t have a lock.
Written by a human in Ellipsus.