Neon Genesis Evangelion Fan Fiction ❯ Losing, or How the World Continues ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Herein is the valley, where one story ends, another begins, and another reaches its midway point...

Anime/Manga: Neon Genesis Evangelion Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Adventure / Drama / Psychological / Romance / Angst | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 06.15.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.7K | Visits: 733 | Status: Work In Progress

A/N: hey fanfiction afficionados! ST here with a new fic for you to sink your teeth into. I've always wanted to do an Eva fic, but it took awhile before any ideas good enough to write down came to mind. Anyway, I'm gonna let you get to it then, since very few readers actually glance at this anyway...

Disclaimer: NGE does not belong to me, to me, to me! Because of this i cannot charge a fee, so you get to read this for free! Whee!

The Dramatic Opening to An Ordinary Day

To the casual observer he seemed like nothing but a young man walking down the trail with the water for his cabin. `He could be a hermit,' one would think. `Or perhaps an old woman's son.' These would all be valid theories for the casual observer, if only the forest where this teenager walked slowly, shoulders squared, eyes forward, and his black gi flowing loosely in the breeze, were not hidden from the world by the remains of a blasted mountain. In fact, his appearance of calm is only a façade as the loose garment hid the tense muscles and his eyes scanned the trees for his enemy. His walk continued uninterrupted for two minutes before he dropped the buckets of water he had been carrying in order to stop the foot barreling toward his face. The attacker recovered quickly and shot a fist with lightning speed. The fighters danced among the trees, their punches and kicks dodged or blocked for almost five minutes before separating. The opponent was revealed to be a man clearly older than his target. Wrapped in the same black gi as the teen, it accentuated the wrinkles branched from crimson-colored eyes and stopped just short of a gray but strong hairline. Pulled into a strict ponytail, it fit perfectly with the stern rocklike face of its owner. His lips were pressed so tightly together they seemed to vanish into the creases on his face. Neither one of their breathing had changed.

“You've gotten better,” said the sterner of the two with a voice full of wisdom and arrogance.

“Glad to hear it,” came the answer. In an effort to dispel any more conversation he took the initiative. There was the barest hint of a smirk before the older man brought his arm up to deflect the incoming flesh missile. Another round of punches and kicks made the air howl for more than ten minutes before they broke apart. The younger man, though his eyes burned with determination, stood up against a tree to hide his growing fatigue. As for the elder, he smirked knowingly and reached for one of the buckets of water that had safely been pushed away from the brawl.

It was blatantly clear to the teenager that he was being offered a reprieve and while it angered him, he was not so foolish as to waste it. Breathing deeply and shaking the weariness from his limbs, he waited for the next round. The sensei (for master he was, any observer idiotic enough to stick around could see that) took his time draining the pail of its contents. The last drop of water's impact on his tongue served as the starting bell as the sensei threw the empty container at the rejuvenated teen. Knocking the distraction aside, the battle resumed with the same ferocity as before. The only difference in this encounter was the state of the young man. Lethargy from exhaustion had begun to settle in, causing his moves to slow until finally a punch penetrated his defenses and made to tap his spine from the front. With the wind literally punched out of his lungs, he could do nothing but feel the pain as the tables turned against him and he is slammed into the trunk of a tree. He could almost feel his body bruising and blood from the cuts on his face coagulating, since it was the only thing other than the furnace of stinging bees that he could feel. Now the elder laughed, a loud cackle that did nothing for the smoldering anger in the eyes of the defeated. Almost like he could sense the daggers aimed at him, the man only cackled louder.

“There is no use in being angry at your defeat, since there's nothing you can do about it. However, you have improved,” stated the victor with no small amount of disbelief in his voice. The teen spat to the side to get the blood out of his mouth.

“Not like I had any choice in that, since you attack me EVERY FUCKING DAY,” he shouted as he stood on his own, albeit shakily. “Honestly, don't you have anything better to do? Now I have to make another bucket and fill it with water again.”

“Well if all this is so predictable, then does that mean your defeat every time is inevitable as well?” There was even laughter in his tone as he turned and walked down the path. The teen merely scowled before picking up the remaining buckets. He was about to make his way back to the river when he heard his teacher's voice behind him. “Come back to the hut, the water can wait. There is something we must discuss.” Frowning slightly at those words, he shook his head to clear away the memories it dredged up and followed his sensei.

That night the moon shone full and bright over the valley through the jagged peaks of the mountains. Its beams lighted the three paths that cut through the dense trees like monstrous veins: one leading to a powerful river cutting through the mountain, another to a circular-shaped clearing pounded down by frequent lessons and training sessions, and the third a straight shot to the only entrance and exit into the clearing, with a simple hut at the convergence of the three. It had been four years since anyone had walked the third path, therefore the imprints the teenager's sandals made on the dirt would undoubtedly last a while. His hands were clenched to hold the satchel of his provisions and to restrain his emotions. It hadn't been long enough since this young man had even seen this trail, so great control was needed. `I mustn't cry, I mustn't cry, I mustn't cry,' were his only thoughts as the cave out of the valley that had been his sanctuary loomed overhead. Just as the light of the moon was replaced with the flames of the makeshift torch he had made from the remains of the last bucket, his face and mind were set, even as his hands still clenched.

`I won't.'

From the door of the hut he stood watching his student walk away. Enzeru Musashi knew fully the turmoil that would result from his decision, but he knew that the time had come. There was nothing else he could teach, not for lack of knowledge but because he couldn't. All that remained must be learned from experience. `Besides,' he thought grimly, `he knew he couldn't stay here forever from the moment he collapsed on the dirt floor all those years ago.' Once the silhouette had finally blended into the background, he turned around to continue his existence. `Best of luck to you, son of Ikari, for the world you now enter is not the world you left behind.' A smile broke through the wrinkles of his face.

“But it's the only one left, so you'll just have to deal with it.”

There is a plot, promise, this is just the prologue. Besides, it's no fun to reveal everything so early right? Also, fair warning, this fic might run for awhile, and the updates won't be quick i do have a life...(no i dont), but i'll try to make it worth your wait. Chapter one is almost done. until then, Ja ne