Neon Genesis Evangelion Fan Fiction ❯ In the Dark Room ❯ Development ( Chapter 9 )

Disclaimer: Neon Genesis Evangelion is a Studio Gainax production, its characters created by Hideaki Anno. They say the word, and this story ceases to exist.

 

 

In the Dark Room: Development

 

By Midnight_Cereal

 

 

To Asuka, it was junior high all over again.

 

There she sat disinterested among a roomful of equally disinterested peers. As the teacher continued to incessantly prattle on about things she probably knew more about than he did, his voice faded into the din of white noise lapping the shores of her distant, busy mind. The only one paying rapt attention was the class representative, her best(?) friend, a pretty and kind brunette moonlighting with a handsome jock.

 

Shinji was at Nerv recovering from injuries sustained in an accident caused by someone else's incompetence.

 

And waiting, lurking, snapping at the back of every errant thought was the dull ache coming from the knowledge that monstrous things were at every moment conspiring to literally destroy her.

 

There were only a few real differences, Asuka concluded. Rei Ayanami was no longer resting her head in a hand to apathetically gaze down to the outside courtyard. Damn doll. Touji Suzahara was about as handsome as water was dry. The monstrous things conspiring to destroy her were no longer giants. They could walk into Asuka's classroom, sit three meters from her, and act as if savagely murdering human beings was a minor character flaw that could be solved with a photo session and a little girl talk.

 

Asuka removed her eyes from Mariko Buick before the other -very insane- girl noticed them on her. Do nothing, nothing at all to arouse a suspicion that was probably already piqued by Maya's words the night before. That Asuka and Dr. Ibuki had agreed to talk privately did not guarantee that Mariko's…peculiarities would be a topic of conversation.

 

As far as Maya knew, they would be talking about anything. And that would be Mariko's problem, wouldn't it?

 

Not for the first time a deep shame filled Asuka; had she sunk so low as to sneak around the other girl like some timid mouse? What was happening to her? How long ago had it been since she had stood toe-to-toe with the most powerful beings in the known universe, unflinching, thriving, reveling in victory? She had done that, hadn't she?

 

Even when they came to kill her specifically, right before The Fall, Asuka recalled grinning at the immediate prospect of melee combat as if she had just won the lottery. Afterwards, it was like someone had taken her true heart -that of a wolf's- and slowly, patiently, and methodically tamed it. That domesticated thing was no match for the unpredictably dangerous, powerful, and utterly psychotic Sixth Child.

 

Asuka Langley Sohryu was scared of Mariko Buick.

 

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“Is…he okay?”

 

“Yukie, trust me, he's fine. He called me himself at lunch.”

 

“Oh Asuka, thank God,” Yukie exhaled, putting a hand over her heart in sincere relief. “I would've asked you earlier if you hadn't come in just before class. I could hardly think straight worrying.”

 

Asuka paused from pushing the broom across the bare classroom floor to glance up at the class rep. She had cleanup duty with Yukie and three other students, who had completed their chores minutes ago. Asuka didn't mind not being the first out of the classroom. She got to talk the Yukie, who over the course of one night seemed to have become the friend that the raven-haired American claimed she had wanted to be to the Second Child…

 

Yes, Asuka made up her mind to stay here and do her chores right, and by right she meant slowly. Very slowly.

 

God, I'm so pathetic…

 

“What are you so worried about?” the red head scoffed, returning to her duties. “When was the last time you even talked to Shinji?”

 

“Last Friday,” Yukie answered immediately as her sponge found the blackboard once more. “And before that, Wednesday, on that Tuesday, two Saturdays ago-” The young brunette must have felt Asuka's intense questioning glare between her shoulder blades, because half a moment later she elaborated.

 

“Asuka…I talk to Shinji because he's nice and unassuming. No arrogance, no pretense. You can just talk to him, about anything. Not that I tell him a whole lot, but I feel I could if I really wanted to. He's been through so much he just never wastes time passing judgment.” Yukie turned momentarily to look at Asuka. “He never brought up the fact we were friends?”

 

“No.” One word, spoken with a cold portent that must have seemed out of place coming from the intermittently boisterous and hotheaded German.

 

“Don't be mad, okay? It isn't like he came over my house or anything like that. Okay? You're always telling me to trust you, so trust me on this.”

 

“Okay.” Asuka didn't mean to sound accusatory. There were just things pulling at her mind at the moment…

 

“The reason I was most worried was you. I, wow, I looked at you and…and I thought he had died or something. Do you know how hard it was to see that look on your face? No one should ever have that look on their face. I was scared for you. So was Aki.”

 

“What did you two do after I left?” Asuka asked. She was putting the push-broom away and retrieving the mop.

 

“Aki called her brother-in-law and he picked us up. We didn't really feel like eating after you left.”

 

The foreign teenager crossed her arms over the mop handle and nodded sagely. “It's settled then,” she stated with lidded eyes. “I'll have to make him pay for ruining our night. I bet Shinji got a thrill out of me just sleeping in the same room, that pervert.”

 

Yukie just snorted as she squeezed her sponge. “Whatever, Asuka. You're just looking for excuses to touch him. You're the pervert.”

 

Asuka leashed something acid on her tongue when she detected laughter in the class rep's voice. “Go to hell, Yukie.”

 

“I'll take that as a yes. You damned pervert.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Pervert.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Pervert.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Pervert.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Gotta go, pervert,” Yukie announced as she skipped to her satchel, openly enjoying the most childish exchange Asuka had participated in since she was five.

 

“Yukie.”

 

Yukie Utsumi stopped in the doorway, cell phone in hand. “Yeah, pervert?”

 

“I don't have anything to do this weekend, so-”

 

“Make all the plans,” Yukie happily interjected. “Whatever you want to do. You, me, Aki…and you, Curly.”

 

“Why'd you just call me Curly?” Mariko asked as she side-stepped past the smiling brunette and into the classroom. “It'll be good to actually have fun on a weekend here, though.”

 

“Should I call you at home?” Asuka asked when she finally peeled her gaze from the green-eyed teen to Yukie.

 

The departing young woman raised and shook her cell phone. “I'll let you two talk.” Yukie waved, spared Asuka a last glance, then disappeared.

 

In the space of a few seconds Mariko had replaced their friend at the door. She noiselessly closed it, and noiselessly pivoted to face Asuka. Asuka noiselessly stood in the middle of the room gripping the mop handle. Noiselessly.

 

“You didn't have to wait for me.”

 

“Now what kind of friend would I be if I let you go home all by yourself?” The taller girl rhetorically asked, smiling as she stepped away from the door, forward. “I saw somebody I knew outside, so I just talked with them to pass the time.”

 

“You going to carry my books, too? Hold my hand while I cross the street and tell me not to stare at ugly people?” Asuka put the mop to work with a long, smooth stroke, more to help her studiously ignore the biting fear in her gut than to clean the floor. Mariko wouldn't try anything here, would she? They were alone in the room, but anyone could be on the other side of the door. No…Mariko just wanted to have a little talk. Asuka mopped faster.

 

Mariko just sighed diplomatically as she stepped closer. “Asuka, look, can we just drop this? Just finish up and come home, okay? I lived by myself for a year before I got here and I'm not about to start again. It nearly killed me. Shinji's probably home already.”

 

“Whatever. Fine. I'm almost done.” The Second Child turned to wash one corner of the room when a hand clutched her shoulder.

 

“I know what you're thinking,” said the person that the hand belonged to. “And if I were in your shoes, I probably would've tried to do the same thing. I'd consider myself dangerous to be around.”

 

“That makes two of us,” Asuka deadpanned. “Get your hand off of me.”

 

The hand was immediately removed. Before the hurt in Mariko's eyes fully registered to Asuka, the Sixth Child was walking toward the lone desk in the room that had not been ushered to one of the far walls -Asuka's desk- and sat on it. The lemon-ammonia began to sting.

 

“I've think you've got me wrong, Asuka.”

 

“You mean you didn't kill all those people?”

 

The other girl gave a short harsh laugh to Asuka's question, her long legs dangling on the edge of the desk. “You know…I was thinking about what to say to you when I finally got the chance. I thought, maybe I'd tell you about…how I was friends with lots of those people…really good friends.” Mariko found something interesting on her knee. “Or maybe, I'd show you a picture of the little boy I had saved one day, when I had rushed him into the local hospital after getting bit by a rattlesnake.”

 

Asuka found the strength to crush the rampant anxiety stampeding through her long enough to return the look Mariko gave her when the American looked up.

 

Mariko said, “Then I realized that after what you saw, no matter how much truth there was in it, I wouldn't be able to appeal to you emotionally.” Mariko's stare sharpened perceptibly. “Asuka…I can't kill you, because I kill on impulse, and even if I didn't, there is no way I could get away with it. You're too important.”

 

“Do you really expect me to believe,” Asuka began, “that you're just going to let go of the fact that I tried to turn you in?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Silence.

 

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

 

Mariko winced, running a hand through her messy hair. “That…wasn't really the reaction I was expecting, you know? And why does there have to be something wrong with me?”

 

“Because if I was in your position, I would've killed me by now,” Asuka stated, vainly attempting to ignore just how morbid that sounded coming out of her mouth. “A fight should be clean and elegant, without waste. Because second chances are the reason I have scars covering half of my body. I gotta say; for a cold-blooded murderer…you suck.”

 

“Maybe I'm not a cold-blooded murderer, Asuka,” Mariko tersely suggested, “and maybe, just maybe, I want to earn your trust.” The Second Child did well to keep her jaw from dropping from the shear audacity of Mariko's declaration.

 

Mariko had sensed her bewilderment, anyway, because a moment later the taller girl said, “I just wish you'd realize that you don't need a degree in psychology…or exorcism to help me. It's enough to try to believe in me, to know one day you'll just see me as a good person. One day I'm going to put this all behind me, and that day will be here a whole lot faster with your help, Asuka.”

 

“An impulsive killer is still a killer. So it's still not like I have a choice, is it?” Asuka ventured.

 

“No,” Mariko whispered softly, streaming sunlight reflecting off her gentle smile, “you don't. I'm sorry.” She cast her eyes upward. “Clean and elegant, without waste…I like that. You come up with it?”

 

“Of course I did. Asuka Langley Sohryu is if nothing else, an original.”

 

Something about Asuka's last words tweaked the corners of the Sixth Child's mouth, bending but not breaking her melancholy smile. Soon the smile was accompanied by something akin to admiration swimming in Mariko's eyes. “If Kaji was half as confident as you, no wonder you liked him. You know, Shinji…”

 

Mariko continued to speak, but Asuka was no longer listening, or thinking or seeing straight, for that matter.

 

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Maya followed Commander Fuyutski's order to go home the night before. At the moment, leisurely patrolling the sci-fi/ fantasy aisle of Maruzen-nishi in the heart of the Geofront's book district, she was thankful, oh so thankful, that he did not order her to stay home. She couldn't stay there anymore than she could breathe pure methane, because there was nothing to do there, nothing but sit and stew and let every single thing in her small town home remind her of her failings.

 

There were so many things to do out here Maya was almost afraid she wouldn't be able to concentrate on what she wanted most at the moment; that was to be a gigantic shameless nerd. This was a simple two step process.

 

Step one was to find geek-approved reading material. Suzuki. Ito. Card. Takami. Gaiman. Pratchett…Gaiman and Pratchett!

 

Plucking the glossy paperback copy of Good Omens from its brothers, she proceeded to step two; finding a quiet, secluded corner in this forest of paper and wood, coffee and soft contemporary jazz, and becoming invisible. Maya found a cozy nook, and after another minute of discreet searching found a short padded stool already doing what she planned to…sitting.

 

Almost imperceptibly she quickened her pace, then faster, and then threw away all pretense of casualness, running the last five meters to claim her cushy prize.

 

Maya ignored the confused, open stares thrown at her by Maruzen-nishi patrons and employees. She was already an oddity to scores of Nerv staff members, what's a few more people?

 

If there was anything Maya was naturally good at, it was setting and accomplishing short-term goals. She hunkered down and set to accomplish one right now, and not think about faulty cores, or flying off the handle to superiors, or why Asuka could never get along with another female pilot for five freakin' seconds, or the incredible shrinking confidence of Sachiko Fujiyama, who was standing over her right now.

 

I turned off “-my cell phone. How'd you-” find me?

 

“Ma'am…you said you always came here when you needed to cheer up, or lose yourself. So I guessed, and…and I guessed right. I guess.” The taller, younger woman shrugged, obviously thinking she was intruding on her sempai's alone time.

 

Maya looked down at the little book in her hands and ran a thumb across the pages. “No, you guessed right,” she said softly. “I'm surprised you remember that. And don't look so embarrassed. If I really wanted to be alone I would've just stayed home. You have something to say. I know. Just say it.”

 

“I found something.”

 

As her head swiveled upward her eyes locked on Sachiko's, a pair of coal irises hardly containing triumphant glee.

 

“About…you think you know-”

 

“It's the answer, sempai, I know it.” Sachiko said as she stood tall and straight, smiling to the point of arrogantly smirking. There she is. This is the woman I recruited from NTI. “Dr. Ibuki, we need to go someplace else.”

 

Maya was the one shrugging now. “Well not really. We don't have to. Just tell me right here.”

 

“Are…are you sure?” Lieutenant Fujiyama hesitantly asked, taken aback by her superior's nonchalance.

 

“Why not? No one here's going to understand what you're saying anyway. And it's no secret that you and I WORK FOR NERV!” Two particularly nosy browsers reared back in shock at the completely random and unwarranted outburst. They hastily turned away before their blushes swallowed their faces. Maya favored their retreating backs with a satisfied grin before turning back to her understudy, who stood ashen faced, mouth agape and utterly appalled.

 

“What?” the good doctor asked. “We're alone now, aren't we?”

 

“I-I just thought you were, I assumed…why did you just do that?”

 

“Because, Sachiko, I felt like it.”

 

“But it's just that...I just never expected…you're always so nice-”

 

“I'm still nice, you know better than that. But I can't be like I was before. There are things that happened to me and I'll never be the same ever again, and I can't decide if I care anymore. I'm good at my job, and that's good enough for now. You understand?”

 

“Yes ma'am.”

 

“Don't call me `ma'am' anymore. I'm Maya, and we're friends.”

 

They shared a look, and Ibuki could tell right there a true bond was finally being formed between her and her future replacement.

 

“Now give me the goods, Sachiko.”

 

“Okay, Maya.”

 

Perhaps all she had was her job, but she was dealing with her problems the best she knew how…

 

…much, much better than the Second Child was currently dealing with her own.

 

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“Why did you just hit me?” Shinji asked as he stood in the kitchen, his cool detachment serving only to infuriate Asuka further.

 

“If you're that damn calm, then you probably know why!” She shouted back as she stood at the threshold of the cooking space. She had not even bothered to take off her shoes, so she stood in them, tense and on her toes, shaking.

 

Mariko looked on behind her as if watching a train wreck unfold. “I'm sorry, Shinji. We were talking, and Kaji…it slipped out. I'm sorry-”

 

“It's okay,” he said to the American girl. “You were just talking. Things like this happen-”

 

“It's not okay,” Asuka corrected him, “and don't talk to her like I'm not here, asshole.” Her voice, light and dynamic during all but the direst of personal crises, was dead and smoldering now.

 

“All I did was tell her Kaji existed, okay? What's wrong with her knowing that? We're all friends here, aren't we?”

 

“Should I just leave?” Mariko timidly offered. “I'll give you two time to work this out.”

 

Asuka wheeled and fixed Mariko with a stare that was inexplicably wild and focused. “NO. You stay. You want to know so badly what things are really like here? Then you keep your lanky ass right there. After all,” She spun back to venomously glare at the young, bleeding man, “we're all friends here, aren't we, Shinji?”

 

After he dabbed his lip with a napkin he responded. “You say that like it's such a horrible thing. We're so far away from being friends that you joke about it?”

 

“DON'T TURN THIS BACK ON ME!” Asuka screamed. “WE BARELY TALK ABOUT THIS SHIT WITH EACHOTHER, WHY WOULD I WANT YOU TELLING HER?” She was seething through clenched teeth now. Her head was throbbing, and so did her eye and her arm. She felt dizzy. She didn't care. “I can't believe you took her to see Misato. Your note didn't say she was coming with you. You barely know Mariko.”

 

“I didn't take her. She asked, and she came with me.” For the slightest moment his eyes tightened. “And I know her better than I know you.”

 

That…hurt. His last words had been spoken with a naked truth that pressed against her heart. Why, why was he so calm? Wasn't he upset?

 

“Shut the fuck up. This cool man act doesn't fool someone who's seen you curled in a fetal position. You'd piss your pants if I told her about Kaworu.”

 

“I told her about Kaworu. And I stopped peeing my pants when I was seven.”

 

“Are you two sure you don't want me to leave?”

 

“You told Mariko about Misato, Shinji? How about the shit that hurts to even think about? How about how she died, did you tell her that? How about your father?”

 

“Why do you care, Asuka?”

 

“I don't care,” she lied. “You know that what I care about is that you think you have a right to tell her anything about me!”

 

“Why can't I tell her anything? Why do you have a problem with her?” he asked, and Asuka inwardly cursed at giving Shinji an out. “Did she tell you what she's done? Is that why you hate her?”

 

Her blood ran cold at the implications…and she made damned sure not to turn around. “I don't hate her. You…you know?”

 

Shinji Ikari shook his head. “No, but if she did, and it was terrible, I probably still would forgive her, maybe if she deserved to die-”

 

The Second Child's next words had somehow worked its way around the snarl that grew in the back of her throat. “YOU. Don't have the right to forgive anyone. BITCH.” She raised a rigid, accusing finger and stabbed in his direction. It shook, as did her raw voice.

 

“You know what, Shinji? Maybe you forgot you're the son of the WORST MURDERER in history, but I didn't. Maybe you forgot you could've changed the world and you choked. I didn't. Maybe you forgot who the little COWARD was that left me to DIE, who gave up on me. But I. DIDN'T. You are the last person on Earth to be forgiving anyone.”

 

“Who am I waiting for then, Asuka? The second-to-last person? Is that you?”

 

And that was when Asuka temporarily lost her mind.

 

Be it from quick reflexes, or the ghost of his synchronization training with the Second Child, Shinji Ikari dodged the chair hurled by the berserk teenager. Asuka felt nothing external in her haze, and didn't at first realize she was being restrained by Mariko, who had gone silent as the argument turned more vicious.

 

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU, SHINJI! YOU THINK YOU CAN JUDGE ME? YOU LEFT ME TO DIE AND YOU THINK I'D FORGET? FUCK YOU!”

 

Asuka tried kicking and twisting out of Mariko's grip, and she succeeded only in losing her balance and pulling the other girl off her feet. They teetered forward and then tumbled backwards, a tangle of arms and legs. From her perspective on the carpet, Asuka now found the object of her severe ire at the front door slipping into his sneakers and plucking his wallet from a shelf, actions that did nothing to placate the Second Child.

 

“GET BACK HERE!” She pulled herself off of Mariko's lap and into a sitting position. Shinji did not obey her command. He was still moving. He wasn't listening.

 

She wasn't finished.

 

“You know why you're worse than your father, Shinji?”

 

He kept moving, digging into his pockets, pulling his cell phone from one and then replacing it. The frustration burned in her chest and was beginning to choke off her words.

 

“No matter how shitty he acted, no matter what he did to us, he never hid behind apologies! That bastard never looked for forgiveness. You could trust him to be rotten. He never pretended to be a good person unlike YOU!”

 

He hesitated, but only at the coat rack, and when he recognized his light jacket he pulled it off its hook and smoothly over his still shoulders. Shinji disappeared from view as he approached the front door.

 

“HE NEVER RAN AWAY!”

 

The door opened.

 

“I promise, one day, you're going to walk out that door and when you come back, I won't be here. One day soon, Shinji. I promise you.”

 

The door closed.

 

Asuka continued to draw shivering, angry breaths and stare at the place the young man had occupied moments before.

 

“Um…Asuka, do you think you could get your elbow off my pelvis?” Mariko tentatively wheezed as she slowly propped herself up on her elbows. “Please?”

 

Asuka's breathing evened as she obliged, not bothering to look at Mariko. Then Second Child wrapped her arms around, and buried her head between her knees as she drew them to her chest. The German teenager closed her blue eyes.

 

Mariko was saying something. “I'm probably the last person you want to hear from, and Shinji's probably the last person you want me bringing up. But I have to vouch for the guy, Asuka…I asked to go with him and,” Asuka heard the girl lick her lips, “if you knew how much…guilt he's been keeping to himself, you wouldn't stay mad for long. Be pissed, Asuka, but I think you should know that and other things. He wants to tell you, but he's afraid. I can tell you. He won't mind if I tell you.”

 

“How do you know that?” Asuka finally asked, the fire in her voice all but quenched.

 

“Because. I saw the real him,” was the immediate answer.

 

“So did I, Mariko, just now,” said Asuka, her voice bitter and undoubtedly muffled in her lap. “and the real Shinji just ran away. Again.” She coiled her arms and screwed her eyes shut tighter. “He ran away. He left just like Kaji, and Hikari…and ma-”

 

A soft palm had quickly but gently slid over Asuka's mouth before she could finish. It was wetted with a warm tear that found its way from a closed blue eye.

 

“Why do you think I take so many pictures? That way, no one ever leaves me.” Mariko's voice was closer as the green-eyed teenager spoke those last words. Arms enveloped Asuka from behind, the power they could conjure dormant. The Second Child felt herself completely and utterly relax. Just for these few moments, it would be okay, she could pretend.

 

“Why is everyone here in so much pain?” Mariko quietly wondered.

 

Asuka didn't know. It didn't matter at the moment anyway, because mama always had such warm arms…

 

End of Development

 

A/N: ITDR, for a supposed horror story, does not have much gore. The problem, I believe, is that my story suffers from Amelie Syndrome.

 

What is Amelie Syndrome, you ask? You must first be familiar with the movie after which the disorder is named.

 

Amelie, if you are not aware, is the sweetest, kindest R-rated film ever released in the United States (yes, I know it is a French film). So why would a movie -that revolves around a beautiful twenty-three year-old waif that makes it her goal in life to bring joy to every single person around her- be rated R? Apparently, twenty seconds of not-so-explicit (and tastefully directed) sex was enough to sink the remaining two hours, eight minutes and forty seconds of PG-rated material.

 

I'm not saying ITDR has that little violence in it. There are still five more chapters, it involves a serial killer, and it takes place in the Evangelion universe. Just how happy of an ending could this story possibly have?

 

Perhaps I missed the `Darkfic' label when I posted the first chapter? Is there a `Darkfic' label? I don't know, and as of this writing it is…3:48 AM here on the east coast (my pen name's MidnightCereal, what did you expect?), so I don't feel like looking.

 

Random A/N:

 

Reader: Why do you have to answer every damn question posed? Are you really that sensitive?

 

MC: No, but for some reason I stay on top of things like this. Perhaps I just appreciate that some people like my story. It's like we're all connected, you know? It's like that wireless network commercial, where there's maybe 25 million people sitting at this dinner table, and this one kid says, `Can someone pass the peas?'. Pffbt…bitch, get your own damn peas.

 

Thank you for reading and your criticism. Ja.

 

Next Chapter: Aperture