"That's it; time to go to work" - Gendo Ikari.
==============================================================
Neon Genesis:Immortals
Episode 0:1
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Opening Act: Death from Above!
----------
By Jared Waddell
Disclaimer: Characters contained herein are not property of the author,
hence this work is non-profit. All rights reserved by Squaresoft, Viz
Video, Gainix, ADVision, and all other respective copyright holders of
Final Fantasy VII, DragonBallZ, and Neon Genesis:Evangelion.
Text Ver 0.9
----------
[June 20th, 2015.]
It was a normal day in Japan, relentlessly humid with only a slight
reprieve from slight breeze that blew from time to time in a rather
fickle manner. The sun was perched high in the blue sky, a handful of
brave moisture clumps cruising slowly through the stratosphere. Far
below, a man bent to his work, hunched over a blue tractor parked at the
edge of a field, paused to look up at the passing white strangers,
squinting a them from under the brim of a generic baseball cap.
The man was short, with small twinkling eyes ringed by wrinkles from
too much smiling and far too many days out in the open. His hands were
gnarled from working in the dirt for most of his life, and his clothes
were very worn. Despite all this, he had the feeling about him of a man
who was actually happy with life, and was enjoying his time on earth.
Here in the farmlands north of Tokyo-3, nestled in a jumble of
valleys that looked as if they had been thrown together by the negligent
hand of God, almost a hundred kilometers from any form of civilization,
this farmer had raised his hearty crops in the rocky, volcanic soil for
most of his life. The why part of his existence would have been a
mystery to most people, but none could deny the sheer beauty of the
land, it's peace, or it's quiet, natural beauty that settled the soul.
To the farmer, the low hills around him were like the feet of giant
green sentinels, guarding him, but also posing a question, an unknown
that begged to be explored, to be discovered. The farmer, a simple man
by his own admission, watched the hills from a distance, never eager to
tear into wilderness and stomp around destroying the life that had made
this land it's home since before people had set foot on the island.
And there, for a moment, the man looked down from the harsh sun,
gazing into the distance, and marveling at the clear air while he idly
fingered a spare nut in one hand. After a few seconds, he blinked to
push away the vision, bending once more to his task.
For a moment, all was well with the world, as a pleasant silence
drifted over the field, not unlike that shared by two very old and very
familiar friends. Then, the wind stopped. The farmer pursed his lips,
about to start whistling an old tune he had carried in his youth, and
shared with friends. It was a tune, he had to admit, he carried better
in the past, than in the present. It was at that moment, when his last
thoughts of years past were passing out of his mind, that a flock of
birds broke from the nearest trees and took flight. The man paused in
his motions, then pulled himself up from the object of his labors to
gaze unsteadily into the sky, one hand held over the bridge of his ball
cap.
A huge number of small black birds had flown from their roosts,
crowded into a grove of trees near the top of a nearby summit. Shortly,
there were followed by a matching flock from the next hill, as if
answering a warning call. The next hill came alive then, and the next,
and the next, until the sky looked saturated with a black sort of fog.
Then the screaming began.
The first call wasn't anything more than a scream of pure, soul-
rending fear. What it lacked in the black bird's usual complexity it
more than made up for with raw meaning, with emotion that even the
farmer could understand. No, understand was not the right word; it was
more as if he _felt_ it, it some way he could not describe.
The sound played at the mind, like a cat cornering a mouse, trapping
it, focusing it's nameless message deeper and deeper into the sub-
conscious where it pulled at the ancient emotions of entire generations,
entire eras gone past, back to a time when man feared everything and
death was a single misstep away.
And with that 'understanding,' it leapt from one beak to next, like
ripples from a stone tossed into a still pond. In seconds, every bird in
the sky was screaming that same unearthly scream of torment and fear,
culled with a need to fight, with a need to survive, and forged in a
Hell that knew no bounds.
The farmer's soft brown eyes were marked with an curiosity as he came
to realize what was happening, until that moment, when all the birds
were screaming in perfect unison, he suddenly doubled over as if some
giant unseen hand had punched him in the stomach. His eyes, those clear
and gentle flecks of crystal that wrote his soul for the world to read,
clouded over. His body stayed in that position, held for just a second
as if being manipulated by a skilled puppeteer. Then he was shaken
suddenly, almost jerked, like he had grabbed a high-voltage wire. The
final convulsion threw him clean from his feet.
As he landed smoothly and righted himself, the small wrench clutched
in his free hand dropped from suddenly slack fingers. He straightened,
ignoring the sound of the flock overhead, and he looked up to watch the
birds, ignoring to sun as well. This time he saw through a pair of pale,
pink, featureless orbs; not the soft brown eyes of a man. The inhuman
organs sighting the word impassively still looked from the same old and
weathered face, this time projecting a blank look of bored expectation.
A calloused hand was raised to the air, fingers extended like spears,
and the bird were cut from flight like one organ suddenly severed from
it's host.
They plummeted to the ground all at once, falling in a cloud, raining
down around--but not directly upon--him, splating upon the ground like
thousands of huge raindrops, the dead bodies piling atop each other
haphazardly.
And then came the grin. It was not something human, not a facial
expression any man could--or would--make, just a visage of pure malice
as if violence itself had been handed the paint brushes and paint for
it's own terrifying self-portrait.
And then, in a voice impossibly deep and resonant for any human vocal
cords to duplicate, it spoke.
"And the third Angel came, and he spoke to the sons of God who bowed
before him. And the Angel told them of disgrace and hatred, of sep-
aration and fear, and he told them these were not things a God looked
for. These were the things a God looked down upon. And now, by His hand,
I shall punish them."
----------
The breeze which blew through the foothills north of Tokyo-3 was
normally a pleasant respite from the rising temperatures of the spring
season. Today it was rentless, chilling. It cut through the skin,
stealing body heat like a thief in the night. The lonely cacophony it
played in the hills, bounding through deep forests, only added to its
suddenly terrifying tone.
Almost fifty kilometers from the furthest out-lying district of
Tokyo-3, high in the hills west of Japan's largest city, sat a modest
Shinto shrine. Over a hundred meters through tangling underbrush and up
a flight of stairs that would make Olympic athletes pale, it was not a
place frequented by casual visitors. The only road in the area was in
excellent repair, a band of durable asphalt wide enough for a tank to
drive down comfortably--an odd sight this far into the boondocks, and
clearly no lane for an afternoon drive.
The visible only item of interest was an ordinary phone booth set off
to the side of the road. Painted the sickly green of a public telephone,
it was the only sign of modern life which could be seen from the road.
A young temple maiden stood before the phone booth, perfectly still.
Her head was cocked to one side as if listening for a train whistle in
the distance.
She heard nothing.
Not a single living thing made a sound. Not the birds. Not the ever-
present cicadas... Nothing. The wind swam through the tree limbs, it's
lone cacophony all around her, plying at her senses as if reaching from
the trees with ethereal fingers.
The girl who stood alone and listened to this nothingness looked to
be on the younger side of fourteen. She had the pale complexion of an
albino, and hair that gleamed--almost glowing--blue in the early
afternoon light. That hair was bound into a long pony tail that hung
nearly to her waist, and she wore the thick traditional robes of a
Shinto priestess. Beneath the loose bangs that hung over her forehead, a
pair of crimson eyes peered out at the world, precisely scrutinizing
every feature that came to their attention. However, those eyes now
looked frozen in place, as if the girl had just witnessed some
extraordinary horror and those blood-red orbs, ringed with white, could
not get her mind to acknowledge what they had seen.
The wind pulled at her robes, tugging at the heavy material in that
brisk, spring-breeze sort of way. To most, it would bring to mind
lunches in the outdoors and children playing in the grass without a care
in the world. But this breeze did not bring fond memories to the young
girl who listened to its tone, its depth. She felt as if her heart might
stop in place, the wind covered in something filthy and evil, as if she
should take gather it up and burn it as one would a set of clothes
covered in the blood of an innocent man.
Finally, she leveled her head, a look of disbelief slowly growing on
her pale face. She walked to the phone booth with a determined stride,
pulling the door open with much more force than necessary, and pounding
out a long number from her memory after ripping the receiver off the
hook as if it might run away.
For a unbearably long time, she listened to the phone on the other
end ring, until the other end picked up, and a short conversation took
place.
"It's Rei. I felt it... no, just a few minutes ago. Even the birds
have stopped chirping! They know it's coming! ... of course I'll be
there soon.... Well, can't you send a helicopter or something? Uh-huh.
Yeah. Yes, I understand.... Who? Never met him; don't know him....
Damn."
Rei hung up the phone with a delicate huff, then continued to look
through the slightly dusty glass of the new phone the government had
installed here just for her.
*Just for me.* She thought to herself. *They put me up here complete
with a temple and a trainer... and for what? I'm fifty kilometers from
the city, for crying out loud! Spread out their forces. Right, who gave
them that idea?*
Another gust of wind picked up, the light dimming suddenly as a cloud
passed over the sun. She stopped laughing and looked aimlessly into the
sky, a single thought echoing in her mind.
*Time to go.*
She stepped out of the booth, a single sweat-drop drawing a line down
the side of her face. It was here; it was close. She could feel it, but
all she could tell was that it was in the direction of the city, and it
intended to kill people.
*It wants to kill.* Rei thought to herself. *Well, not on my watch.*
She bolted for the stairs, taking the 100+ meter uphill sprint like
it was second nature to her. She did this run ten times everyday, and it
showed. She moved with a fluid grace that few athletes could hope to
match, covering the distance from the base of the hill to the temple in
just under fifteen seconds.
Had any sporting scout saw this, Rei would have earned herself an
instant ticket to fame, and fortune almost before she reached the top
step. However, jaws would have been bouncing off of the stone walkway if
these scouts had remained to see her leap the eight meter tall entryway
arch in a single bound, without breaking stride.
----------
Elsewhere on the continent of Japan, other curious feats of physical
ability were being demonstrated to the wilderness.
Consider Goku Son.
Already world-renown as one of the best martial artists on Earth,
Goku had spent most of his life studying martial arts. Scratch that.
He'd pretty much spent _all_ his life studying martial arts, so his
abilities should not have been very surprising. But it was him and a
small company of his close friends that had also developed techniques
that looked like magic to anyone else.
To some, they were demons with powers granted from the darkness. To
others, they were the heroes of this world, but to Goku, none of that
mattered. He did what he wanted to do, raised a family that loved the
art as much as he did (though his wife had other interests as well), and
that was good enough for him. Being different was often a heavy burden
to live with, but Goku didn't mind; he was a man full of heart and he
cared about those he defended: Even his generosity to his opponents was
legendary.
Right now, however, he had no time to concentrate on his fond
memories, or even consider the bad ones. He was quite occupied flying
through the air at an incredible speed, right towards Tokyo-3. Flying
without means of external propulsion, that is. One of the many tech-
niques he had mastered over the years was the ability to focus his
ki--his body's energy--so that he could fly through the air much like a
plane. He could also hover like a helicopter and do several other neat
tricks, but now was not the time for fancy tricks; he was in a serious
hurry.
For the same force which was winding its way into the mind of a
certain young albino girl was also alarming his senses. If it was as
powerful as he felt, then haste was most definitely needed. So, he raced
toward the great city of Japan, the pride of the country, with a sinking
feeling in his heart. Would he make it in time? Would he be fast enough
to save the people in its path?
Would he?
His senses called again, drawing him from his brief revere.
There, to the right, hundreds of feet blow him. There he could see a
darkened circle, like a bruise on the earth, a black dot of ink
surrounded by light green fields and dark brown fields that ran together
into the horizon. After a few seconds of looking at the patch of ground,
Goku started descending slowly, intent on getting a better look as he
passed overhead.
It was there, still a hundred meters distant, where he felt a sudden
chill, like a hand of ice wrapping its frosty fingers around his still
beating heart. He stopped far short of the farm, shock playing over his
tanned features, drawing a mask of pale shock over the weathered skin as
he took in the scene before him.
What he saw was dead birds. Hundreds of dead birds. Thousands of
them. Thousands upon thousands of dead black birds.
*So many birds dead? In such a small space? What could have possibly
caused this?!* Goku wondered in a fright. It was just... unnatural. He
paused, like a cobra sniffing the air for its prey.
The only sound that answered him was the cold, unfeeling wind,
clawing at his clothing. Something was wrong here, something was
seriously, deadly wrong. Something far more sinister than he had
suspected was at work; and he knew exactly where it was headed.
Steeling himself, Goku descended slowly, booted feet touching the
ground in silence. Here the wind cut through the trees like a banshee,
but Goku was not detoured by the frightening sound. He made his way
towards the field slowly, on foot, often turning left and right to
observe his flanks. His dairokan was listening quietly. There was life
here, he could feel it. There wasn't much, only a few small insects and
some burrowing animals, but there wasn't a single living bird within his
range of sense. There were no people nearby either.
The city south of him still burned with human life, flickering and
pulsing with fear like a tiny campfire in the distance. He broke out of
the dense woods into the clearing. He stopped far short of the circle of
dead bodies that littered the area, however, choosing to remain back in
the shadows of the huge trees that stood around the tiny valley, standing
shoulder to shoulder like sentinels.
After a minute of just looking, Goku reached into the small pouch
hanging from his belt, and extracted a small black box made of plastic.
Flipping the cover open, he revealed it to be a cell phone, but one that
featured only five large buttons. One was red, and the other four were
green with small Kanji on them.
He pressed the one labeled 'science,' and brought the phone to his
ear, listening to ringing on the other end, counting under his breath.
"Five... six... seven... Come on, Ritsuko-san, pick up the phone!"
And in the moment of his complaint, she did. "Moshi moshi?"
"Doctor?" He said, quickly.
"Hai." She snapped off. He was about to announce who was calling when
he remembered that this particular device identified him, in advance, to
anyone he called with it. Goku wasn't much for technology, but it was
simple to use, and the perfect tool for contacting someone like Ritsuko,
who didn't share his extraordinary abilities.
"Something bad has happened here, Ritsuko-san."
"Goku, listen carefully. I don't have time for games. We're on alert
here."
Goku's skin suddenly felt prickly all over. "It's no longer here." He
said, barely breathing the words out. Ritsuko heard him clearly though,
without the sounds of the wilderness to mix with his soft, deep voice.
"What? What's no longer there?"
"The Angel." Goku said. "The Thing. Its coming right at Tokyo-3." He
had never seen an Angel of this sort before. No one had. The first Angel
ever known to exist had killed everyone that laid eyes on it; not even
photographs remained. But Goku, he remembered. He remembered it more
clearly than any other event in his life. The sounds of a soul
screaming, screaming at all of humanity. The pain there, the rage that
ripped through his consciousness as he heard its death-scream in his
mind. He still had no idea what sort of creature this Angel was, but he
knew what it would do.
At the first opportunity it had, it would start killing people. And
it wouldn't stop until it had killed everyone, wiped the planet clean of
them, much like--
*Stop, Goku! STOP!* He shook himself, his mental discipline reasserting
itself. He calmed down enough to speak again after a few seconds.
"It was right here." He continued. "It killed black birds, lots of
them, right in this field." His voice wavered a bit at the end, and he
gestured helplessly at the corpses piled before him, as if he could show
Ritsuko over the phone.
"There's a lot of birds corpses where you're standing?" Ritsuko said,
replacing his words with the objective, clinical terms the doctor loved
so.
"The Angel killed them. I know it." He said flatly, his throat
suddenly dry.
"But no human bodies? Just birds?" Ritsuko continued.
"Just birds." Goku finished. He set the phone on the ground, leaving
it on so NERV could come out and investigate what he had seen by chance.
Perhaps they would explain away this under a mountain of circumstantial
evidence. Perhaps they would have an easy-to-swallow explanation, worded
in their scientific language, stripped of the feeling that was all too
real to Goku, but little more than pointless details to the scientists.
But he too, could not find many words to describe what he had truly
seen in that field. All he could say for certain was that whatever had
done that was unlike anything he had faced before, and whatever it was,
he could not treat it lightly.
He left the ground in a flash of light and took to the skies, his
leap lengthening impossibly. In seconds he was back to his original
heading, flying straight for Tokyo-3. Behind him, a tiny voice came from
the tiny cell-phone laying on the ground, calling out, unheard, to his
receding form.
"Goku? Are you still there? ... Goku?! Goookuuu!!!"
----------
The sounds of slow, even breathing consumed the room.
In. Out. In. Out.
The room was spartan, and catered well to small nuance-like sounds,
such as breathing. It was a modest space built for sleeping, and perhaps
a little reading. Boxed in by four wooden walls, a high ceiling and a
window to the south. A polished wood floor added a touch of luster to
the otherwise drab space. Furnishings were limited to a tatami mat and a
small wooden chest.
Rei was kneeling before the wooden chest, looking at the item sitting
on top of it. A tanto. Her eyes beheld the sight without emotion for a
moment, then narrowed slightly. The surface of the chest, dark from
wood stain and smoothed by a lacquer finish, gleamed in the dull sunlight
streaming through the room's open window, the reflected rays meeting her
eyes harshly.
She had changed out of her robes and into a pair of black shorts that
looked like they had been painted onto her skin, her chest covered by a
halter top that allowed for a good viewing of her cleavage and left a
large section of her lower torso uncovered.
The knife held her vision for a moment, then her hand came down and
picked it up, her fingers cradling the weapon delicately. Looking it
over with a critical eye, she took in the mirror-polished blade and its
razor-sharp edge. Then she gripped its handle tightly in her right hand,
and took up her loose pony-tail in her left.
There comes a time, in every person's life, when they are given the
opportunity to cast aside everything familiar and journey down a new
path, where they can see the world differently.
The people who go, all go for different reasons.
The blade's sharpness was never in doubt to Rei, but she still
breathed a sigh of relief when it easily cut her hair without catching
on a single strand. Setting the knife aside, she opened the chest and
removed a pair of shears from the top drawer. Working from memory, she
made quick work evening out the cut, so as to make it more presentable.
Though she had no mirror, leaving even the tanto sitting on the
chest, she took a moment to regard herself.
*A warrior? ... Perhaps.*
*A priest? ... Of sorts.*
*A woman? ... To the core.*
The path now laid before her did not allow for the possibility of
return, but she did feel she had to look back, even now, when the past
was so close. She had people to protect, a world to save, and an Angel
to kill. _This_, the new person she had become, was the future.
Placing the shears in their storage space, along side a ball of
twine, a roll of tape, some nails and bevy of other useful trinkets,
she looked back to the tanto. The sheath was quickly placed over the
blade, and the knife was properly put away but a moment later.
Taking to her feet, Rei walked to the far end of the room, her feet
gliding across the bare floor soundlessly, only the light rustle of
cloth left indicating her passing.
The closet contained a small but mostly normal, contemporary
wardrobe next to a few martial arts gi, and but two pairs of shoes in
the bottom. From the top shelf, Rei retrieved a canvas traveling bag,
and soon had it full. Four changes of clothes, two outfits for
exercising, a picture, a postcard, and some sundry items all went into
the carry-all, which she zipped closed in a deft bit of motion.
Standing, she looked about the room in a full circle, taking in every
corner of the room where she had lived most of her life.
"Good bye." She said quietly, and walked away, leaving the door open
behind her.
Down the stairs, Rei found herself at the ground floor of what she
had called home for pretty much her entire life. Anything that came
before her arrival at the shrine was a blank slate in her mind. This was
the only home she had ever known, and she was about to leave it,
permanently.
"Sensei!" She called out, her voice ringing clear in the quiet woods.
"Hai," Came the expected response. "Leaving so soon?" Rei didn't
bother looking about for the source of the voice, she just stepped aside
the rapid series of attacks that came from behind her immediately after
the words.
The man who came at her, obviously an experienced fighter, was
dressed in temple robes similar to the clothes Rei had been wearing only
a few minutes ago. His brown hair was cut extremely short, not unlike a
Marine's high-and-tight and his brown eyes seemed to sparkle. Even as he
attacked, he smiled at Rei, his movements swift and sure despite his
years. Compared to Rei, he looked like an old man, although one's best
guest to his age would put him in his late forties.
Her teacher for eleven years, Sensei Miyamoto, had made it his
personal mission to keep Rei on her guard ever since she came into his
care. These little attacks were the only formal greetings they had given
each other in many years. Her reflexes, well-trained in this exercise,
allowed her to easily dodge a continuous flow of attacks that would
overwhelm all but a handful of expert martial artists.
As she moved backward, parrying Miyamoto's strikes, her feet scarcely
seeming to touch the ground in white slippers, she bid her Sensei
farewell. "Yes, it is time for me to go fight. I can feel it... like a
storm on the horizon."
"Ah-ha." He said, throwing a few spinning kicks into his pattern of
attack and grinning widely as the girl moved around the blows like water
flowing over rocks. "Something you feel in your dairokan, ne? Something
you can't put words to, but know right to your core."
"That's about what it is, Sensei." Rei replied, her voice only a
little bit uncertain.
Miyamoto stopped at the same instant Rei did, their moves and
intentions choreographed with infinite precision over the many years they
trained and lived together. His fist was only an inch from her face, but
Rei didn't blink, merely smiling slightly as he pulled back his hand,
opened it, and peered at the lines in his palm as if divining the
future.
"I'll try to visit, Sensei, I promise." Rei bowed to him, a movement
she had not made in years.
"Yes, well..." The teacher said absently, dropping his hands to his
sides loosely and returning the bow. "Good luck, Rei-san."
"Thank you, Miyamoto-san." Rei said, a light blush shading her cheeks
as her eyes turned to examine the ground. "Good bye,"
"Good bye," He replied.
With that and a tiny wave, Rei bounded back over the open gates and
tore down the stone steps she had practically worn out over the years.
Miyamoto stood without moving for several moments after she left, after
she reached the road and ran past the far bend, even long after she had
left the valley, looking into the distant horizon in the direction of
Tokyo-3. He could feel it as well, the fortress city was about to get a
very unpleasant visitor dropped off at it's doorstep. As he turned his
head to look at the mountains to the North, the sun revealed a patch of
scar tissue beginning at the base of his neck, which seemed to extend
well below the collar of his robes. It was an old scar, worn with time,
and only a few people remembered how he got it.
But Miyamoto remembered. He remembered very well. Hashi Miyamoto
remembered everything, and soon, that photographic memory would come in
handy.
"Good luck indeed, Rei-san," He said to the mountains, a grim smile
on his weather-beaten face, "You'll need all that you can get."
----------
He cut the sky like a knife, leaving a scar of glowing white over
soft blue. The buildings far below seemed to gaze up at him as he
passed. They were spread sparsely throughout the city, with its wide
roads and extremely wide sidewalks, but slowly growing larger and
appearing more and more densely packed. The clouds in the sky were few,
but on the distant horizon, visible only to someone at his altitude, a
storm was coming.
It would not take long in getting here.
Goku turned his attention from the dark edge of the sky to the green
land below, watching as the brown stripes of roads and grey dots of
concrete bunkers passed below. Here, only the wind spoke to him,
whistling through his clothing, roaring in his ears--not an entirely
unpleasant experience, all in all. Goku didn't care much for city life,
with the car horns and people packed practically shoulder-to-shoulder
(though, truth be told, Tokyo-3 was quite a roomy city for being in
Japan), the big machinery that made the concrete jungle work smoothly
could keep him from sleep even when the weather wasn't a humid and damp
mess that made his sheets a tangling prison.
Still, he had promised the doctor he would stay here if he was
needed, provide them with support if necessary, and generally stay out
of their way if all else went well.
After what seemed like an eternity of flying in no particular
direction, Goku finally spotted the landmark he had been looking for: a
green sign with a strange symbol that was meant to be a helicopter,
right above the number seven.
He landed quickly, briefly thankful that he would have something to
keep him distracted. It was time to find Ritsuko-san and tell her in
detail about what he was sensing. The enemy... it was on it's way.
He walked past a man wearing a NERV Internal Security uniform, barely
noticing the olive-drab color just as he passed by. The tall warrior
thought about saluting for an instant, but since he wasn't in the
military, he was worried it might be taken as an insult. Besides, he
didn't know how to salute anyhow.
----------
In the shadows, Gendo Ikari scratched his chin thoughtfully. This was
not a day he'd looked forward to. There was, yes, a sense of relief now
that the moment had arrived; and they could stop worrying about things
that _could_ go wrong and focusing on doing their best to make things go
right.
Of course, this _was_ the moment, and now that they were here, they
couldn't afford any mistakes, especially with no time to fix them.
Fuyutsuki spoke, his voice low and gravelly. "This does not bode
well."
The other man stopped the scratching motion and dropped his hand to
the desktop. "My son is adequately trained, if that will assuage your
worries, Fuyutsuki."
Ikari turned to look at his one-time mentor and long-time friend.
Fuyutsuki was a lanky man, and carried himself in such a way that had he
been the one saddled with poor vision, he would be called a nerd. It
was, Ikari mused, something the man would not feel bad about either. He
carried himself well and his manners were excellent, but his bookish
behavior and often pale looks left one wondering just who he worked for.
In a primarily military organization such as NERV, Fuyutsuki would
surely fit in better in the science department, as opposed to the
command staff.
Gendo Ikari, however, would have none of that, and a man like Gendo
Ikari was not easily refused. The older man's wisdom and experience
could be counted on in any situation they might encounter. A mind not
dulled by his years studying ancient tomes and rotting texts was a
massive storehouse of useful knowledge, especially given what they were
facing.
Besides, the man's utterly atypical behavior was refreshing in a
place were saying 'sir' was a way of life and one needed magnetic
keycards and DNA scans just to get into work every day.
"We can only hope he can tap the power before we're all horribly
killed."
And his sense of humor, thought Ikari. An insufferable smirk appeared
on the Commander's face. "Why is everyone suddenly so depressed around
here?" He asked out loud.
As only he and Fuyutsuki occupied the small office Gendo called his
own, the answer came from a rather predictable source. "Probably just
looking death in the eye, old friend."
Ikari chuckled, his mellow voice slightly scratchy and echoing
within the confines of the office. "Yes. Probably. But we _must_ win,
you know."
"Yes, I know we must. If we don't defeat the Angels..." Fuyutsuki
trailed off.
Ikari tilted his head, his dark hair hanging over his glasses, which
glinted in the room's low lighting. "Exactly. It is for that reason NERV
exists."
The phone rang. Ikari's hand was on the receiver in a flash. A second
ring sounded before he picked up though, raising the phone slowly to his
ear. "Yes? ... I understand.... No, we are ready.... Thank you, sir."
He dropped the phone receiver into it's cradle with a loud clatter.
"That's it; time to go to work."
And for the first time that day, Commander Ikari grinned.
----------
The military base Goku had passed less than an hour ago was under
attack.
He knew nothing of this, as he had used one of the many trams that
ran through NERV's underground installation to get to the core of the
complex, near the science area.
"It's comin' right for us!" Screamed Sergeant Hiroshi Takona. His
squad, dressed in combat fatigues, wasted no time jumping to their
assigned tasks. In a matter of seconds, three members of his squad had
pulled out a portable machine gun, and the remainder of his men had
entrenched themselves behind some cover. He was right behind them,
pulling out his pistol and firing at the approaching object, giving the
machine gun crew time to set up a more formidable weapon.
They had nothing to do but hold it off, as the other JSDF forces had
been alerted and would be here in a matter of minutes. Still, being in
command of the first military unit to engage a confirmed Angel, Takona
was not feeling optimistic about their chances of survival. Maybe it was
the way the Angel seemed to glow a deathly red as it hovered above the
ground like a UFO from all those old Science Fiction movies he watched
as a young man. Perhaps it was the way it seemed to look at them through
its lifeless, pale eyes. Its eyes looked like nothing else he had ever
seen, and he didn't care to look at them ever again.
Then again, perhaps it was the way is casually raised one emaciated
limb and flexed its extra-long fingers, causing the machine gun crew to
simply explode in a shower of entrails and fresh blood.
Perhaps.
It was then Sergeant Takona realized someone was screaming
A second later, he realized that someone was him.
----------
Shinji Ikari was not having a good day.
The sun was shining, a light breeze was camped out in the city,
keeping the noon temperature from climbing too high; in short, a
beautiful day.
He was walking down a street near the heart of Tokyo-3, a well-used
canvas bag slung over one shoulder, his feet taking him aimlessly about
the city. Shinji wasn't a very tall boy, maybe five foot four, with a
slim build. His black hair was long and unkept, hanging loosely over his
dark brown eyes. Shinji hadn't been to the city since he was a very
small child, but he still found it disturbing that nothing here looked
familiar; if he had seen this city before, it had simply changed too
much to be recognized.
Then there was the sound of distant combat. The deep sputter of
machine gun fire, the echoing roar of jet hover craft, the deep rumble of
mortar shells and exploding missiles. If it were night time, he would
have been able to easily spot the area of combat with the flashes from
both sides lighting up the sky. But this far away, the sounds of battle
echoed off of the buildings and the noises seemed to come from every
direction at once.
*Great, I come all this way and nearly walk into the middle of a
war. What's going on over there?*
The boy lifted one hand to shield face from the harsh sunlight and
looked up, searching for anything suspicious on the mountains that lay
past the enormous concrete buildings that reached to the sky. For a
moment, although the sounds of battle still drifted down into the
sprawling city, he looked and saw nothing. Turning to the east, he saw
that the line of dark clouds he saw that morning had expanded into a
band of grey rising over the horizon. With the small radio he kept, he
had heard nothing of a rainstorm in the area.
Dropping his hand, the boy sighed. "Looks like I'll have to use the
phone. Shit. It's not like I know where he lives."
Continuing down the sidewalk, Shinji looked absently into the
distance as he reached into his pocket for some change. His
concentration, already worn from the long train ride he had endured to
get here, was consumed so completely by his coinage quest that he
wandered clear out into the abandoned street before he realized the
sidewalk had changed color. Blinking, he looked down at the pavement,
then to the sidewalk.
Before his brain could shift gears, a loud squealing noise suddenly
erupted from behind him. Shinji nearly jumped out of his skin as he
looked over his free shoulder to see what the noise was. A blue sports
car was sliding towards him nearly sideways as the driver tried
desperately to stop the car before it made parts of him a permanent
addition to the paint job. Shinji shut his eyes at the last second,
expecting to be road kill the next.
Nothing.
He peeked one eye open to see the car stopped mere inches from his
legs. The driver side window rolled down, a mass of purple hair coming
out. Wait, that wasn't just hair...
"Shinji? Shinji-kun, is that you?"
Shinji turned to face the driver of the sports car. The driver was a
young woman, twenty-something, wearing sunglasses and sporting purple
hair. The package also featured a wide smile, and a very large bosom,
framed by a red dress that looked like the designer had run out of
material while working on the top half.
After a tense second, Shinji found part of his voice. "Misato-san?"
His heart rate, which had been pushed to its limit, was hardly able to
fall back to something normal, what with Misato's cleavage in his clear
view.
"Get in!" Misato shouted.
Shinji had meet Misato Katsuragi several times in the past. Being a
military officer in charge of NERV security, she had come to visit him
often, telling him what his father was up to and asking him what had
been going on lately. In a way, they had grown to be friends. Some years
ago she had changed jobs. She still worked within NERV, but was too busy
to visit Shinji personally. She wrote the occasional letter, and when
asked by his few friends, Shinji always told them they were from his
mother. He was proud to have someone as intelligent and caring as
Misato-san to call a friend, and in a way, she was like a foster
mother, watching over him when his father refused to.
Shinji wasted no time in getting into the car from the passenger
side, but as he did, he asked her if they were in a hurry.
"Yes, Shinji-kun, we are." She answered.
Shinji set his bag in the back seat, again willing his heart to slow
down. Misato's dress must have come from the discount rack; it seemed to
be missing an awful lot of material. She could never wear something that
revealing in the military. He thought back; was she still an officer
now?
"Buckle yourself in."
Shinji did so, then looked at her, forcing his eyes up to her head,
even though she had her eyes glued to the road. "Why?"
"It's bad. Really bad."
Shinji rubbed the bridge of his nose, adjusting his grip so that he
wouldn't jab his own eyes out as the car took off. "Is this
Ritsuko-san's fault?"
Misato didn't even pause at the question. The many disasters her
long-time friend had dragged her through had been tough, but this was
something else entirely. Besides, it really wasn't her fault, this
time. "No." She pointed out of her window, to the mountains in the
distance. "See that?"
Shinji squinted, still seeing nothing. Then, a speck came over the
top of the mountain. It was kind of hovering at first, then it seemed to
drift to one side, slowly moving down. After a few seconds, it was lost
in the tree cover, where a sudden ball of fire erupted. "Yeah..."
*Looks like a damn war to me.* Shinji thought to himself.
"That is an Angel."
"Angel?" Shinji blinked, trying to process the words. Wasn't an Angel
a messenger of god? "Angel? Don't you mean some kind of monster?"
"Very much so, Shinji-kun. That's just what an Angel is."
"But an Angel isn't a monster. An Angel is more like an agent of
mercy." Shinji argued. This just didn't make any sense. Why would an
Angel be fighting with the JSDF?
"This isn't an Angel of mercy, Shinji." Misato responded, fingering a
tiny silver cross that hung over her chest. "This... this is more like
an Angel of death."
The remainder of the ride was spent in the company of their own
thoughts.
----------
Goku was lost.
Not much more could be said about the situation. He had walked into
NERV with a clearly defined goal: Find Ritsuko and tell her about the
Angel. Well, there wasn't much to tell, but he felt better offer his
help in person. If he just waited outside for the thing to land, the
military might come after him. And then he'd have to stop them...
Unfortunately, he had been lost since he set foot inside the
underground complex. A passing group of men in camoflauge had been nice
enough to give him directions to the underground train that took him to
NERV HQ, but once he got off, he had no idea where to go. Most of the
signs were in English, and even then they had more numbers than
letters. Section 'L-46'? What did that mean?
At last, he had to do something. The Angel was much closer now,
burning at the edge of his senses like a chunk of molten steel pressed
into his flesh.
*That's it then. I'll have to figure out how to use this 'intercom'
Ritsuko-san told me about.*
Goku stopped, having finally reached a major junction of two
hallways. There were at least a dozen doors visible to him from where he
stood, but he couldn't figure the meaning of any one of them. The small
panel laid into the wall near the intersection looked promising. Walking
up to it, he pushed the largest button on the panel, ignoring the
numbered buttons grouped together like on a telephone.
"Ritsuko?"
He waited. The doorway behind him opened. Goku was about to call the
doctor's name out again when a female voice yelled out behind him.
"Not now!"
Goku jumped a foot off the ground before spinning on his heel to find
out who had done that. He didn't even take the first step. "What?!"
Doctor Ritsuko Akagi grinned at him. "Gotcha!"
The doctor was a slim woman with blond hair and luminous blue eyes. A
white lab coat that looked right out of an old science fiction movie
cloaked her figure, which would otherwise be eyed very closely by much
of NERV's male staff. Compared to Goku, she looked short, but actually
stood a respectable five foot seven inches, which was now telescoped to
around five-ten with her high heels on. The sleeves of her white coat
were rolled up, her hands stuffed into the wide pockets on the sides.
Goku put a hand over his chest, pretending to be shocked. "You scared
me!"
"Yep." The doctor responded, feeling assured of her superiority. "I'm
still the Master." She look at him out of the corner of her eye as she
closed the door to the lab she had just come out of. He had showed up in
his blue and red fighting attire, which meant he was ready for
battle. *Perhaps...*
Out loud, "Goku, can you come with me?"
"Sure. I have something important to tell you first."
The doctor stopped, giving the tall man her full attention. "Go
ahead."
"The Angel. It's here; very close."
"I know. We're running out of time and Shinji isn't even here yet."
With that, Dr. Akagi sped down the hall. Goku, behind her, wondered
aloud, "What's a 'Shinji'?"
----------
There was little to be said about the room Shinji stood in, apart
from the fact it was very, very dark.
"We lost power again." Came Ritsuko's voice through the blackness.
After a moment of standing still in fear of doing something morally
unacceptable to Misato-san or Akagi-san, or potentially harmful to his
persons, Shinji blinked. The lights didn't switch on in a blind him
suddenly, as he had expected them to. Instead, the lights came on one
row at a time, each row of lights adding a little bit to the room's
illumination as they came on with an audible click.
"Son..."
Shinji knew that voice. He could identify it in his sleep.
"Father..."
He couldn't place the source of the voice, though. The room was
empty, little more than a large box with a table and chairs set at one
end. They reminded Shinji of props for a doll house, the great scale of
the room dwarfing the furniture it contained.
"How are you doing, Shinji?"
The boy lifted one hand to shade his eyes as he looked up, then to
the far wall. "I'm doing fine, father." He said, his voice carefully
neutral. He lowered his gaze to the far wall, and swept it left and
right, searching for the sound of his father' voice, the ends of his
dark hair sweeping gently over his knuckles.
"The speaker's in the ceiling, son."
Shinji placed his hand at his side, it's mate slowly curling into a
fist. Shinji tried to put steel into his tone, almost daring his father
to show his face. "Why aren't you here, father?"
"I'm rather... occupied at the moment. Shinji, I have a task for you
to perform."
"There is a monster attacking the city, father. What do you have in
mind? Pilot of a jet fighter plane?" He laughed, his voice harsh and
slowly beginning to fill with anger and scorn. "Or perhaps a giant
robot, like the models you loved so much as a child."
"Nothing of the sort, son. I--"
"Then why don't you come to see me? What's with this charade?!"
"Now listen, boy."
"Don't _BOY_ me, father! What do you want?!" Shinji finally screamed,
releasing a little tantrum in the enormous room.
"Shin-chan..." Misato chided gently. Shinji ignored her, ignored
everything else in the room, his vision slowly obscured by a red
haze. The veins on his forehead began to stand out in sharp relief,
casting shadows the color of deep bruises across his skin, like a
network of injuries from a severe beating.
"Son, the monster out there is an Angel. An enemy humanity has little
chance of defeating without your help."
Shinji's teeth slowly began to grind, his jaw muscles adding more
shadows to the lines of his face. Misato watched helplessly as his
shoulders hunched over, his fists shaking by his sides.
"I thought... I thought you wanted to say hello."
"I called because I need you to be here."
"I thought you cared about me."
"I called because I have a use for you."
"I thought you _loved_ me! Don't you even care about your only son?!"
Shinji exploded. He held up one hand, five fingers stiffly extended. His
other came up and started counting his points off with so much force
that it seemed he might accidently break several bones in his hand.
"Can't you even tell me straight? I get some stupid phone call out of
the blue--" Shinji began, his voice rising.
Gendo's voice also rose in volume, the added power of the room's
speakers giving it physical force as he countered his son's arguments.
"I go through the trouble of getting you an escort here to be
insulted?!"
"--pack my clothes, buy a train ticket, ride on that uncomfortable,
worthless box of tin for--"
Ritsuko, unobserved by any of the people in the room, had taken out a
pair of hand-puppets, carefully fashioned from a pair of gray socks, and
was making them 'talk' at one another.
"--try to get backup, but nooooo. Then my worthless son shows up,
wanting to--"
"--missiles flying, like some god damn _war_ has started at the edge
of town--"
"--and I just want to ask for _one_ little favor,"
"--but that IDIOTIC, HEARTLESS--"
"--help to _fight_ an ANGEL!!!" Gendo roared, finishing his end of the
father-son tirade.
The loosely held fist stopped inches from a suddenly slack hand, one
finger of each extended but slightly bent. Color drained from Shinji's
face, as he seemed to become but half of himself, shock pushing aside
the force of his anger.
*_Fight_ an Angel? ME?*
Misato and Ritsuko blinked in unison, their ears filled with an
intense ringing sound. Before them, Shinji stood, his only movement the
involuntary act of breathing as he considered his options.
"The Angel is engaging the JSDF as we speak." Gendo continued, his
voice slightly raspy.
"Angel?" Shinji said, barely above a whisper. "Fight it?"
"The 'monster' you saw the JSDF attacking." Gendo said by way of
explanation.
Shinji's mouth worked for a few moments like a gun being dry fired.
He finally opened his hands, looking at them, staring at them,
memorizing every detail before he let them set motionless at his sides.
*Fight an Angel?*
He thought of the hover gunships and helicopters shot down and
knocked aside with such ease it seemed to be a measured kind of
carelessness on the Angel's part. He saw the beast destroying as it wont
and expressing only a kind of tireless, childish glee.
*Fight that _thing_?*
"Well son, how is your karate?"
*He wants me to fight it?* The thought went through Shinji's mind
over and over again, examining the words carefully, picking his way
through them like a miner panning for gold.
"You want me to fight it?" Shinji asked at last.
His words hung in the air, a dried tree leaf dropping in an autumn
breeze, pausing for the barest instant just before touching the ground.
"You can't!" Misato suddenly shouted.
Shinji didn't hear the interruption. His eyes remained focused on a
fixed spot, an imaginary point on the far wall.
"Rit-chan, he--" Misato's voice died in her throat as she turned to
Ritsuko for support. The blonde woman had two hand puppets, one at the
end of each arm, looking at one another. Ritsuko was apparently turning
her head to look at Misato as the Major called her name, and there she
stopped, a slightly guilty look on her face.
Misato's mouth closed, an action requiring considerable concentration
in her current state.
"Okaaay," She said slowly, looking back to Shinji.
"Father," The boy said, finally speaking. "Can you say it?"
The tension in the room was palpable. Shinji's mere presence was like
standing near high voltage power lines to Misato. Whatever had set the
poor boy off still had his heart in an iron grip, and he backed it with
his voice, giving it an almost supernatural feel.
"Father..." His tone demanded an answer.
There was the sound of a sigh, the feel of a soldier dragging himself
from the trenches one last time, to face the Hell of a battlefield he
could no longer forget. It was the sound of a draw, a two-way defeat; no
victory to be gained today.
"I love you, son."
"I love you too, father." He felt it like a dam breaking. His father
wasn't totally heartless. It felt so good inside, knowing he was
wanted and not just...
*Waitaminute.* Shinji frowned, ever so slightly. Then, in a firm
voice, he finally gave his answer.
"I'll do it."
The speaker clicked off without a response. For perhaps another
minute, the trio stood in the fluorescent solitude of the 'meeting' room,
their eyes drawn to the empty table set a dozen meters away from them.
In this place, a decision had been made.
There would be no turning back now.
"I guess I'm ready. Let's go." Shinji said, picking up his bag and
turning to face the two women.
Misato glanced in her friend's direction; the scientist had hidden
her puppets... somehow. She turned her attention back to Shinji. "Yes,"
she said, "Let's go."
----------
Shinji followed the blond doctor into what looked like an ordinary
locker room. Nestled deep in the halls of his father's great work,
Ritsuko had led him into a long rectangular room with a row of lockers
on one side, a shower cordoned off at the far end, and a couple of
benches in the open area. There was a floor-to-ceiling mirror near the
showers. The only door to the room slid shut from above. Shinji had
looked at as they entered; it was at least four inches thick and made of
solid steel.
Ritsuko went up to a locker labeled '1.' The number seemed to stick
leap out at him, challenging and faintly ominous. Inside the locker was
a middle shelf, about waist high, and a couple of hangers near the top.
A small package wrapped in clear plastic set on the shelf.
"This is your locker." Ritsuko began her lecture. "And this,
obviously, is the locker room." She said, sweeping one arm around the
room as she handed him the package.
Shinji looked at the plastic-clad bundle. A slash of dark purple over
a luminous orange looked back at him. "What's this?"
"That's a tac-suit." She looked at him, keeping quiet. Shinji looked
at the suit again, then looked at her expectantly. After a moment, she
folded her arms. "Well?"
Shinji held the package at arms length. "What does it do?"
"It monitors your vital signs, tracks your position, provides
communication facilities, and a few other useful things."
"Why put all this stuff in a suit?" Shinji asked, slowly pulling at
the wrapping.
"Well, there are radios topside, along with a few weapons, but there
was no sense in weighing you down with useless equipment."
"Like a gun, right?" Shinji dead-panned.
Ritsuko poked a finger in the air and shouted, "Right!"
"Well, can I have one?"
The doctor paused abruptly, looking at him like he'd just crawled out
from under a rock. "You? I don't think so. Now" Ritsuko took a deep
breath. "GET IN THAT SUIT!!!"
Shinji shook his head, a motion honed by habit, letting his hair
fall back into place. He ripped the package open and looked at the
'suit' inside of it. *Skintight Spandex. I figured the doctor'd go for
something like this. And the color, GAAH!*
"Something wrong, Shinji-kun?" Ritsuko said, popping up behind the
boy while he hesitated. "Just slip into it and you'll be fine, trust
me." Her voice took on a slight purr and Shinji had to fight to keep his
blood pressure from rising.
His self-control straining, the boy broke free of the doctor,
removing an arm that had almost made it to the waistband of his pants
with some difficulty. "Look, Ritsuko-san, I'm not going to wear the damn
suit. It's... it's..." He stuttered. "Not... going to work, er... very
well."
"Well, fine." The doctor hummfp'd. "Then get your ass out there and
start fighting."
"What?!"
It was then that Gendo's smooth voice came into the room, sounding
distant and boxy over the intercom's speakers. "Doctor, is my idiot son
ready to go yet?"
"Hey!"
Shinji could almost hear his father form a proper apology. "Son, I
did not realize you were there."
*No shit.* Shinji thought to himself. *That old bastard. I
oughtta...*
"He's not going to wear the suit."
"I didn't hear you, Akagi-san."
"It's not going to fit, sir." Ritsuko answered, winking at Shinji.
There was a moment of silence from the other end. "Yes. I see. Well,
the Angel is coming quite near the city. _Now_ would be the most
appropriate time, doctor."
"Hai, hai." Ritsuko said absently, grabbing Shinji by the arm. "Let's
move, small stuff.
The walk to their next stop was but another short jaunt compared to
Shinji's hike through the city earlier. The second room was colored much
the same as the first; drab grey, like a military base. However, this
room was very small, with just enough space for the doctor and himself
to fit comfortably. Well, maybe comfortable for the doctor, who didn't
seem to mind brushing herself up against Shinji as she adjusted various
arcane controls in the tiny space. Shinji, making an effort at being
modest, kept his eyes glued to the floor. He noticed that is seemed to
split down the middle. Glancing up, he saw the roof had a matching line
to it.
*Now what's that for?* Shinji asked himself.
"Enjoying the view?" Ritsuko asked, paused in her work.
Shinji blinked, realizing that his head was practically resting
between the doctor's breasts, with him look up between them, past the
side of her head, while he gazed at the ceiling. Blushing, he tried to
shuffle back a bit, only to run into the wall directly behind him.
The doctor laughed disarmingly. "Don't worry about it. Just don't
let the Major catch you slacking in your duties."
"I wasn't... I didn't..." Shinji tried to defend himself.
"Whatever. Listen closely." She wrapped a piece of stiff cloth around
his wrist. "This is a communicator, it'll keep you in touch with our
command center--allow you to communicate with us, if you will. That
being the function of a piece of communications equipment, and--"
"I get the point, doctor." Shinji interrupted. He did remember the
doctor being absent-minded the one time he met her. When was that? Five
years ago? But, he did not remember the... playful side of her. Best
just to let her get it out of her system.
"All right, Mr. Smarty-pants. You don't have to push any buttons,
either. Just talk and we'll hear you."
"Who is 'we'?" Shinji questioned.
Ritsuko began counting on her fingers. "The Commander, the Major,
myself, the command staff, which consist of Maya, Sheigeru--"
"I thought my father ran this place." Shinji interrupted.
"Who do you think is the Commander?" Ritsuko countered.
Shinji made a little 'oh' sound, his face showing his surprise.
Ritsuko punched the little green button by the door, which opened
obediently for her. Shinji made a mental note; that button was the 'out'
button.
"Will I be okay out there?" He asked.
The doctor looked serious, stopped in the doorway. She turned to him,
meeting his eyes. "You know some martial arts, right? You'll have to
defend yourself."
"Ritsuko-san," Shinji said thinly. "That thing was blowing up
helicopters and dodging missiles when Misato-san and I got here. Do you
seriously expect me to fight that thing in hand-to-hand combat?"
Ritsuko leaned towards him, bringing her face within inches of his.
"Yes."
Shinji felt his face growing hot, the doctor's breath moving across
his face sensuously. "How long do you think I'll last?"
"Five nano-seconds." She replied, matter-of-factly.
Shinji's voice temporarily abandoned him. "And I'm... and I'm
supposed to beat it?" He squeaked out.
Ritsuko smiled. "Of course, dummy." She kissed him on the cheek,
winking again. "For motivation."
"Wait, how about some body armor!" The door was already closed in his
face. He noticed the green button change to a glowing orange, then to
red before he dared to push it.
Nothing happened.
"Umm... Ritsuko-san? Hello? Anybody? HEY!"
"You wanted to wear your street clothes, Shinji-kun." Ritsuko's voice
said from the other side of the door. "Suit yourself. Get it? 'Suit'
yourself? BUWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
*I'm going to die at the hands of a madwoman.* Shinji thought to
himself as the entire room was bathed in red light. The door started
_sliding_ towards him, taking the rest of the wall with it. In a matter
of seconds, he was down the far half of the room. He noticed the line on
the floor had been covered by the mobile wall before him. His heart
leapt into his throat as the entire space started to shake violently.
"H-hey! This isn't funny!!!"
The room, quite clearly an elevator, suddenly shot upwards, nearly
forcing the boy to his knees. Shinji screamed and his life flashed
before his eyes, centering briefly on the doctor who had put him here,
and then on his worthless father, who seemed to enjoy a personal hobby of
making his only son's life a living Hell.
His last plea, a prayer, before reaching the surface, was that he
might visit the proper vengeance upon his father before he died.
After this, of course. It was time to kick some serious ass.
--- To Be Continued.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Author's notes:
Not much to say. I'm quite floored from writing this thing. It's a lot
of damn work, but I have to say it's well worth it. Now to get back to
some of my lighter stories.
Okay, seriously now. I'm sorry about any confusion I caused. This is an
action-drama-comedy of sorts. It's not extremely dark like I threatened
my fellow authors, but it will certainly have it's moments. I kind of
got carried away with the later stuff, but I'm never going to forget the
foreshadowing from the beginning. Remember: The darkness may not be
right in your face throughout the story, but it will always be lurking
nearby.
So, hope you enjoyed the read. Drop me a line if you need anything, and
remember, the torture will go on for as long as it has to.
- = - Language Notes - = -
These should have been clear from the context, but...
-chan, -san, etc. = Honorifics. Use and effect of use is different
depending on who you are talking to/about. Read up on conventional
Japanese in fanfics if you're really curious.
Dairokan = Intuition.
Gi = martial arts exercise outfit for Judo, Karate, and numerous other
styles. Due to the etymology of this word, the plural form does _not_
have an 's' at the end. One gi, many gi.
Hai = Formal form of 'yes' or 'yes sir'.
Katana = (From above, just for the record.) Japanese sword. Go watch
some samurai movies, or _Rurouni Kenshin_, for some fine katanas.
Ki = Often called a kind of 'spirit strength,' ki in the real world is
force applied quickly and precisely, and can be used to heal or hurt.
Because ki is so versatile, its many uses are hard to simply define. To
a martial artist, ki is simply inner strength. As for this piece of
fiction, I'll have Ritsuko explain in due time.
Sensei = Teacher.
Shinto = A type of religion I don't know much about. Common in Japan,
rare elsewhere. (Readers: Input?)
Tanto = A large, fixed-blade knife, usually for ceremonies, but it can
be an effective weapon in the right hands. Its style is usually similar
to that of a katana, just much shorter.
Tatami = Thin woven mats. I guess people sit on them. Anyone else? (
geocities.com/rick_spiff/txt) (
geocities.com/rick_spiff)