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Shinji looked at the murky green dress crumpled in his hands. A shame, since it had confidently been blue an hour ago. He had made the mistake of mixing some very bright yellows with the dress in the wash to save time and it had backfired horribly.
He could already imagine the tantrum Asuka would throw when he showed her the damage. Nonetheless, he had to tell her eventually. She would find out regardless and it would be much worse if she would discover it on her own. Shinji built up his courage and exited the laundry room to a bunch of eccentric screams.
Great. Asuka was watching the game.
Just his luck, she was already angry before he’d even shown her the dress.
Lately Asuka had gotten into the sports betting scene. She’d downloaded the app on a whim, won her first bet purely by accident, and immediately decided she had a natural talent for it. In reality, her picks were impulsive, emotionally driven, and often based on vibes she refused to explain.
And now, Shinji stood in the doorway holding the dress, realizing he’d picked the worst possible moment in the history of moments to have screwed up.
Asuka was already furious. Her bet had been dead for five minutes, but she was still sitting forward like she could glare the score into changing. Phone face-down. Arms crossed so tightly her shoulders shook.
From what he could ascertain this morning Asuka had bet over 2.5 threes on Rui Hachimura, alongside a Lakers win. 50 dollars turning into 180 if it hits. Unfortunately, it looked like a complete bust at the moment.
Rui Hachimura was being subbed out with 1:25 left in the fourth — Lakers down 111-99.
Asuka shook her fist at the TV screen. “Rui you idiot, I needed two more threes!” Her voice echoing off of the apartments walls.
Shinji stepped into the living room as Rui Hachimura took his seat on the bench. Asuka — not noticing his entrance — didn’t turn around, eyes glued to the TV.
“Unbelievable,” she snapped. “Absolutely unbelievable.”
Shinji hesitated for a moment before calling out to her, bracing himself for whatever reaction might follow. “Umm- Asuka I…”
That finally caught her attention. Asuka’s turned towards him, eyes flicking down to what he was holding.
“…What is that.” She inquired.
“Well,” Shinji said, voice already shrinking, “I was doing the laundry and I think I made a mistake—”
The commentator’s voice rose suddenly. “The Lakers force a much needed turnover!”
Asuka’s head whipped back to the TV. “What?” Shinji took this opportunity to edge backwards, hoping the game would divert her attention long enough for him to explain.
“Basically what I’m trying to say is-“
A fast-break three. The crowd roared. 111–102.
“Shh!” she snapped, eyes glued to the screen. He froze.
The camera cut to the bench. “Rui Hachimura seems to be checking back in—”
Asuka shot to her feet. “WHAT?!”
In the immense confusion Shinji decided to drop the truth on her. “Your dress is—“ Shinji finally blurted out before the announcer cut him off.
“RUI HACHIMURA WITH A HUGE 3 TO CUT THE GAME DOWN TO 6”
The room exploded into noise as Asuka began to cheer, her hair bouncing in a blur of reddish-orange as she pumped her fist in the air. “YESSS RUI!”
The whistle blew, timeout Memphis.
As the commercial rolled in, Asuka exhaled and focused her attention back onto Shinji. “So what did you need?”
Shinji swallowed.
He hadn’t moved. The dress still hung from his hands, limp and unmistakable now that the momentary chaos had passed.
Asuka’s eyes followed his gaze down, noticing the color was wrong. “…Why does it look like that.”
He flinched as she whirled on him, pointing accusingly. “You. Don’t move.”
Shinji instinctively backed away ignoring her command. “I wasn’t going to—”
She froze for half a second, then rounded on Shinji again, anger still burning, just redirected.
“That dress,” she said. “That was my favorite dress.”
Shinji barely had time to react before Asuka lunged.
He tried to step back, but she was faster. In a flurry of limbs and shouts, they collided in the middle of the living room. The dress slipped from his hands, forgotten on the carpet.
“YOU RUINED IT!” she screamed, grabbing at him.
“I-I didn’t mean to! I swear!” Yelped Shinji, scrambling backward.
She tackled him again, and they went tumbling to the floor, knocking over a throw pillow. Shinji tried to push her off, but she was relentless, a red blur of motion and fury.
“STOP—AHH!” he squeaked as she twisted and pinned him down.
Somehow, she ended up sitting back on the carpet, Shinji beneath her, his head trapped snugly against her thigh, her arms locked tightly around him keeping him in a choke hold.
“That’s my favorite dress!” she barked, leaning down and ruffling his hair mercilessly. “I was gonna wear that tomorrow—!”
Shinji groaned, his head buried into her lap. “I—I’m sorry, I’m sorry—please—”
Her hands didn’t relent. She dug her fingers into his scalp with exaggerated force, giving him a noogie that left him squirming and laughing nervously, though there was no way to escape. “Do you understand? THIS IS SERIOUS!” she yelled.
Shinji blinked up at her, utterly pinned, his cheeks warm, eyes half-closed in a mix of resignation and awkward amusement. The living room TV echoed with the muffled sounds of the game still playing, but right now, it didn’t matter.
Asuka tighten her grip, cementing her utter control over him. Shinji just gave a long, helpless sigh, letting his head rest more fully against her lap and submitting to her revenge.
“YOU LITTLE-“
The commentator’s voice boomed, drawing Asuka’s attention towards the screen. “Rui Hachimura with the 3 to win it….”
Everything went silent for half a second, before being interrupted by a soft swishing sound.
“ITS GOOODD!!! Lakers win it 116-115. It’s a Miracle here at Crypto.com Arena!”
Asuka shrieked in pure joy, squeezing Shinji in a crushing embrace before leaping up and down in celebration.
Shinji lay there, utterly confused but glad that she had finally let go off him.
Quietly, while she screamed at the TV, he picked himself up, placed the ruined dress on the table, and backed toward the hallway.
“I’ll, uh… leave this here,” he muttered, before shuffling back towards his room.
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Shinji didn’t see Asuka for most of the day. She had been busy running tests with Ritsuko and was already gone when he woke up for school.
He went about his usual routine quietly—classes, errands, whatever passed for normal—half-expecting to come home to a confrontation that never quite materialized. The ruined dress sat in the back of his mind the entire time, a dull, persistent weight he couldn’t shake.
By the time he got back to the apartment, the sun was already beginning to dip, the light in the hallway warm and slanted. The place was quiet in a way that made him tense. Too quiet.
He had just started to relax when halfway through kicking off his shoes, Asuka appeared in the doorway. She appeared very quickly, as if she’d been waiting for the sound of his keys.
“You busy?”
“Uh-no?” It wasn’t like he’d had time to be. He hadn’t even taken 2 steps into the house when Asuka took his hand.
“Good.”
She dragged him by the wrist into the living room.
“Wait—Asuka, what—”
“Game’s starting.”
She plopped him down onto a seat and reached for the remote like this had always been the plan. The pregame show filled the screen as Asuka made room to sit down herself.
Shinji sat stiffly beside her, hands folded in his lap, heart thudding as the Mavs warmup flashed on the screen.
There was snacks and drinks arranged in front of them as if Asuka had prepared this long beforehand.
“Asuka what’s going on?” Shinji asked concerningly.
“We’re watching the game together.” Asuka said it in a matter of fact way as if that was the confusing part of this scenario. “Isn't it obvious?”
Shinji scratched his head. “Yeah well, I thought you didn’t like it when I watched them with you.”
She tilted her head at that remark. “Have I ever said that?” She shot back.
He thought for a moment before answering. “No, I guess not.”
It wasn’t like she outright said it, but Shinji just assumed she was against watching sports with him. “I just assumed you didn’t want me here I guess.”
Asuka chuckled, “See, that’s your problem. Always assuming.”
She reached forward and grabbed a cold can of coke. “Here, have this.” Asuka said with a smile.
“Um.. Thanks.” Shinji accepted the can and popped it open. “So do you really need me here? Because I have some homework-“
“No.” Shinji flinched as she cut him off.
Asuka motioned towards him and then the TV. “You have to stay right here and watch the game! Homework can wait.”
“Oh okay.” He replied, taking a sip of his drink to calm his nerves.
Shinji should've kept quiet but the whole situation was still very confusing for him, and he was intent on finding an answer.
“But what’s so important about today? What’s so special about this game?”
Asuka groaned, stuffing her hand into her forehead. “OKC plays the Mavs. I know their your favourite team so I decided to do something nice for once. Is that so hard to believe?”
Shinji wasn’t too sure how to respond. That was nice of her to remember. “No, its just- Never mind let’s just watch the game.”
Asuka’s smile beamed in his direction.”See, no need to be so negative. Let’s just enjoy the game.”
She leaned forward once more and focused her attention on the TV as the referees prepared for jump ball.
This was definitely an abnormal way to end the day. Shinji wasn’t really against spending some time with Asuka if it weren’t for the fact that something sketchy was going on.
Why was she suddenly insistent on watching the game? He thought she would still be pissed about the whole dress situation from yesterday and the last thing he expected was Asuka to ask him to watch an OKC game together.
There had to be some sort of catch to this. But still, Shinji wasn’t going to pass up on food, drinks and a good game with the one person he admired the most.
’I’ll stay and watch the game. What’s the worst that could happen?’
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The game seemed to be going fine. Shinji sat in his spot watching as the Mavs were obliterated by OKC.
SGA already had 29 by half and the Thunder were putting belt to ass on the fraudulent, pathetic Mavericks. Dallas, the horrific place it is, already saw most of its fans leaving American Airlines Center early in disgust to beat the traffic.
You’d assume after taking so many fat L’s in literally every major sport Dallas citizens would get used to the feeling of despair, but the brain dead hivemind of Dallas sports fans refuse to accept that their city will never accomplish anything in their lifetime. Unfortunately they will always be blessed with good fortune due to having a larger market and will continue to be a talent graveyard as great players rot and suffer in the infinite limbo that is a Dallas sports contract.
Anyways, although he was having a good time, Shinji seemed to notice Asuka was rather upset. For the past 10 minutes she had barely been paying attention to the game. Her head was somewhere else entirely. Every now and then Shinji would look to his right and catch her looking at him as if he had done something wrong.
Shinji froze up whenever this happened and would only move once Asuka broke eye contact and looked back towards the TV.
Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. The tension building up in his chest overpowered whatever enjoyment he was having from their little watch session and he spoke up. “What’s actually going on. Why are you acting so weird?”
"What are you talking about?" She stayed seated, arms crossed, eyes glued to the TV. “Can’t we just enjoy the game?”
Shinji hesitated. He tried to turn his focus back to the screen, but the feeling wouldn’t leave.
“You’ve been acting weird ever since I got home.”
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You’re imagining things.”
A beat passed. The noise from the broadcast filled the space between them.
“…Then why does it feel like I’m here for a reason?” he asked. “The cushions, snacks, drinks. Everything seemed deliberate..Like it was planned.”
Asuka exhaled sharply. “Fine.”
She stood up, hands on her hips, like she was about to announce something important.
“I was thinking about last night,” she said. “Rui didn’t start hitting shots until you walked in. Lakers go on an 18–4 run when… guess who showed up?”
She gestured at him.
Shinji blinked. “…So?”
Asuka groaned. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”
She stepped closer and tapped two fingers against his forehead. “You’re the variable here. Shinji, you’re lucky.”
She gave him a light shove as she said it.
“L-lucky?” he repeated.
Asuka laughed and dropped back onto the floor. “I was losing before you showed up. I won right after. It’s not rocket science .”
Something settled uncomfortably in his chest.
“Oh.” He muttered. “So you only invited me over so you could green your parlay?” The words slipped out a bit wrong. Shinji hadn’t meant it sound so accusing.
Asuka stiffened. Before responding.
“Why else would you be here?” She snapped back, a little too fast.
Shinji laughed under his breath. “Yeah.” He said. “You’re right. Why else?”
“Why else.” Asuka agreed.
The answer settled uncomfortably in his chest. It made too much sense. Of course there was a reason. There was always a reason. People didn’t just want him around — not without something at stake.
He turned back to the TV before she could say anything else.
Suddenly, everything began to make sense to him.
Asuka never watched games with him if she could avoid it. She never planned snacks, never insisted he stay. She’d only done all of this because she thought he mattered in a way that could be measured — in PRA, in the money line, in odds turning green.
It wasn’t about spending time together. It was about results and Shinji was just a means to an end.
Shinji glanced at the screen. Ten minutes left in the fourth, and it was already a blowout. D’lo still sat at two assists. There was no path to the over. No miracle run this time.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “Looks like I wasn’t much use to you.”
Asuka shrugged, like the answer was obvious. “You can go back to doing whatever it is you do tomorrow. Dlo would need a miracle to get Over 4.5 assists. Guess my theory was a bust.”
Shinji nodded.
That made sense. The condition was gone, so the invitation was too. He told himself he shouldn’t take it personally but his chest still felt hollow.
He kept his eyes on the screen. The game continued without him needing to be there for it.
He should’ve felt relieved. She was cutting him loose, giving him an out, and he should’ve taken it with gratitude or anger. Maybe both.
Instead, there was a dull disappointment settling in his chest. Shinji had never really believed he was lucky, but Asuka had, and for a while that belief had been enough for her to let him stay.
And that thought bothered him more than it should have.
He told himself it was stupid. She’d only been paying attention to him because she thought he was useful. He knew that. Still… he couldn’t deny that he’d liked it. Being told to stay. Being noticed. Even being needed for the wrong reason felt better than being invisible.
Tomorrow, things would go back to normal. She’d do her thing. He’d do his. That was fine. That was how it was supposed to be.
So why did it feel so bad?
As the clock ticked down, an unease crept in — familiar and heavy. The same feeling he got before battles. The same one he’d felt when he’d run away. His chest tightened as the seconds slipped by.
Why didn’t he want the game to end?
He glanced at Asuka. She wasn’t looking at him anymore. Her attention had already drifted back to the screen, like whatever experiment she’d been running was over.
That was it, then.
She didn’t care. Not really.
So why did he suddenly feel the urge to prove her wrong?
To show her that she hadn’t been mistaken. That the trust — however misguided — hadn’t been wasted. That he could be of use to her. That she did have a reason to pay attention to him.
Shinji inhaled sharply.
“M-maybe…” His voice came out breathless, and he wasn’t sure why. “Maybe we just have to recreate what happened.”
Asuka looked at him. “What?”
Shinji stood up before he could talk himself out of it. “When Rui hit that shot,” he said, words tumbling faster now, “that’s when my luck would’ve been… strongest, right?”
He paused, trying to steady himself.
The silence stretched. Shinji swallowed.
“If we do it again,” he added quickly, “maybe it’ll help your odds.”
Asuka stared at him, unreadable.
Shinji’s courage evaporated almost instantly. “I mean—only if you want to,” he said, already backing down. “It’s probably dumb.”
Asuka stared at him for a long moment, unreadable. Then she scoffed and stood up.
“If I remember correctly,” she said, stretching the words out like she was humoring him, “I was messing your head in when Rui hit that shot.”
Shinji’s chest tightened. She took a step toward him. Then another. A smile Shinji could only describe as wicked plastered onto her face.
His first instinct was to flinch. His shoulders tensed, bracing for impact.
“Well, I—” he started, but the words didn’t finish forming.
Asuka lunged. Shinji squeezed his eyes shut.
But instead of the sharp tug or the rough noogie he was expecting, he felt something warm settle against the top of his head. Fingers slid through his hair slowly, deliberately, like she was testing something fragile.
Once.
Then again.
It wasn’t aggressive. It wasn’t teasing. It was… careful.
Shinji’s eyes opened.
Asuka stood impossibly close, her hand still moving, combing through his hair in an absent, almost mechanical rhythm. Her face was turned slightly away, like she didn’t want to look at him while she did it.
“Is it working?” she asked, too quickly. Too lightly.
Shinji swallowed. His throat felt tight.
“I—I don’t know,” he said, and realized it was the most honest answer he could give.
Her hand didn’t stop.
The warmth of her palm seeped through his hair, down into his chest making him feel something he didn’t quite have a name for. He felt himself relax despite every alarm in his head telling him not to. Despite knowing this was probably temporary. Conditional. Something he was only allowed as long as he was useful.
Still, he leaned into it just a little.
Asuka stiffened for half a second — not enough to pull away, just enough that Shinji noticed. Then she adjusted her grip and kept going, slower now, like neither of them quite knew what the rules were anymore.
The game played on in the background, forgotten.
Shinji stared ahead at the screen, heart racing, thinking stupidly that if this was what being “lucky” felt like, maybe he didn’t want it to end.
He wasn’t sure how long his eyes had been closed, but they flew open the moment Asuka shifted behind him.
His body went rigid.
That’s it.He’d pushed too far. Stayed too long. Let himself forget the rules. Shinji this whole thing was built on a flimsy excuse but it had been so easy to let her believe it if it meant being allowed this close. Just for a little while longer.
He turned his head, bracing himself.
Instead of irritation or disgust, he was met with a grin.
“D-Lo got the assist on that Klay shot!” Asuka whispered excitedly. “Just one more to go.”
“…One more?” Shinji murmured. “How long was I—”
She pressed a finger gently to his lips, cutting him off. “Shh. Just lean back and close your eyes.” Then, more urgently, “I need this one to hit.”
He might’ve protested — might’ve pointed out how ridiculous that sounded — if she hadn’t immediately followed it by running her hand through his hair again, softer this time, slower.
Shinji swallowed.
Reluctantly, he leaned back and closed his eyes.
The broadcast faded into meaningless noise: whistles, sneakers squeaking, the crowd rising and falling in waves. None of it registered. His senses were already overwhelmed — the warmth at his back, the steady pressure of her arm around him, the absent-minded pats and strokes like she was reassuring herself more than him.
He told himself he should stop thinking about it. About what this meant. About what would happen when the game ended and the excuse disappeared.
But for once, he didn’t.
He let himself relax.
Somewhere in the background, the Thunder missed a shot. Dallas pushed in transition. A pass connected. Another assist tallied.
'See? a small, traitorous part of him thought. It’s working.'
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Shinji woke to darkness.
For a moment, he didn’t know where he was. The living room lights were off, the TV a black mirror reflecting the city’s faint glow through the curtains. His body felt heavy in that deep, disorienting way that came from sleeping too well, like he’d been set down gently and forgotten.
It was late. Much later than it should’ve been.
Asuka was gone. Her spot beside him was empty, the cushion beside him cool now. Shinji sat up slowly, blinking, trying to piece things together. His neck was stiff, like he’d fallen asleep leaning back, and his hair felt… wrong. Not messy. Smoothed down, almost.
He frowned.
As he stood, something clicked.
A flash of memory sharp enough to make his breath hitch.
The crowd roaring through the speakers. Asuka suddenly grabbing his shoulder. A fast break. A pass.
“Come on—come on—”
The buzzer.
The announcer shouting about the assist. The graphic popping up on-screen. Hit. Bet confirmed.
Asuka laughing. Loud, victorious, almost disbelieving. Her saying something about how she knew it would work. How she knew he was good luck.
Shinji pressed his hand to his chest, steadying himself.
He remembered her telling him not to move. Telling him to stay right there. The way her voice had softened just a little when she’d added, almost offhandedly, “We’ll do this again tomorrow. Same time.”
He hadn’t answered. He didn’t think he’d needed to.
The memory faded as quickly as it came, leaving behind only the echo of it. Warmth, pressure, the feeling of being kept in place.
Shinji went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. The microwave clock glowed an unreasonable hour. He drank slowly, letting the cold pull him fully awake.
This wasn’t healthy. He knew that. The way his chest tightened at the thought of tomorrow, the way relief crept in where guilt should’ve been. It wasn’t normal.
The way he clung to moments like this, the way he didn’t question the terms as long as he was allowed to stay. It was the same pattern, just smaller. Quieter. No Eva. No cockpit. Just some snacks, a game and an excuse that could disappear at any time.
But as he set the glass in the sink, his fingers curled slightly, like they were remembering something.
Tomorrow.
The word settled in his mind, steady and grounding.
Shinji glanced back toward the dark living room, imagining the floor, the screen, the rules he already understood.
If all it took was staying useful—
He turned off the kitchen light in the kitchen.
Then he’d be there.