Reasons
By Ketheres Elyion
Toji sat in the locker room pondering the situation that he had gotten himself into.
Fourth Child. Designated pilot of Production Model Evangelion Unit 03.
A title. Was it fitting? To be a pilot of the thing that he feared, the thing that he hated. He had been inside one once before. He had felt something stir in him, listening to the screaming pilot. Watching the maddened boy he would later call his friend pour out his rage against the otherworldly enemy that had come to destroy them.
"It saved me Toji."
She had said this. His sister. When he had proudly told her how he had avenged her injuries on the one who had been responsible. She had not felt the same way that he had.
"Tell him you're sorry!"
She said he was wrong to do what he did. He dismissed it as the words of a child who didn't really understand. It was so strange that he was the one who was the child - who didn't understand. But after that time inside the beast, he had learned. He had felt something, something full of pain, when he was there. It was Shinji.
Shinji had always been quiet, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He never liked to talk really, although he didn't mind listening. When he did talk, he wouldn't talk about his piloting experiences, no matter how much Kensuke would beg and plead. It was too painful.
"It saved me Toji! And you too!"
Was that all there was in being a pilot? Pain? Wasn't there anything good about it? Yes, there was. He could help - he could save other people. Just like Shinji had saved him and his sister. It was his turn now.
The door to the locker room opened. A tech walked in to escort him to the testing bay. They wandered through the halls of the facility towards the awaiting EVA. As they did, Toji continued his meditation.
He would make them proud of him. He would be a hero like Shinji. He would repay his debt, not for his life, but for his sister's. He would make up for what he felt had not been made up. The anger burned whenever he saw her lying in the hospital bed. He still had to blame, he still had to hate. Something was responsible. If it wasn't Shinji, then it was him. If he had gotten home sooner, she wouldn't have been there when the Angel attacked. It was his fault that she almost died, and he had to face that whenever he walked into the stark white room where she lived now.
He didn't know when she would be able to leave. She had been seriously wounded. At first they thought that she wouldn't even survive. Too him, that would have been unbearable. He loved his sister so much because she reminded him of his mother. He had only the vaguest memories of her. Her smile, her laugh, her scent, her gentle touch when he would hurt himself on the playground. He saw some of that in his sister, and knew that she shared their mother's optimistic spirit.
So why hadn't he told her? Why hadn't he told anyone of what had happened to him? He was afraid. If they knew what he was doing, they might want him to go. They would encourage him, wish him luck, say a prayer. But none of them would give him the opportunity that he really wanted, the chance to escape this responsibility that was too heavy too bear. No one would offer him the chance, just by saying "don't" or telling him that they were afraid for him. They didn't want to share their fears for him. It might make him unable to fight.
But he was frightened enough on his own. What was this that he was going to be doing? Fighting? Waging a war against an unknown enemy with an unknown agenda? How can you fight an enemy that you don't know? But perhaps it was better this way, not knowing. To know the enemy would give a weakness, to see them as they saw themselves. One might not be able to demonize them after that. One might not be able to hate them as much.
They probably thought that what they were doing was as right as what their enemies thought of their own actions. Each side always claims a divine right in actions. A higher cause that excuses their atrocities.
Toji had never held such ideas. When he was very young, he had been picked on because of his gangly appearance. In revenge, he got back by doing the picking. The thing that had been insulted now made him better than the others. And he used that asset to its full advantage. No, he had no illusions. He didn't hit the other children because they deserved it. He had done it because he could, and it made him feel better - bigger, more important.
But how could he do this? He knew that he wouldn't like it. It wasn't done for his own enjoyment or sense of protectiveness. He was being made to do this for others. Why? He could have cared less about them, only a few people had ever mattered. Surely they would be benefited, but he had not been chosen to do it for them. He had to do this for everyone, everywhere. A responsibility to people he had never even met. Worse, a responsibility to people he had met and hated. Why protect the worthless?
No, he wasn't going to be a hero. Not the idealistic hero you see in all those stupid movies with the happy endings. He was going to be a hero like Shinji was. He had his own reasons for piloting, for agreeing to do this thing. He had gotten his sister into a better hospital. He had even gotten his grandfather a more lax schedule at the lab - the old man needed to be sitting at home enjoying his retirement years, not slaving in some thankless pit somewhere. He would use this thing to get his revenge. To make him feel better. It wasn't any sort of justice that he was after, he wanted to make up for what he felt he had failed at. The Angels would pay for hurting her. He had his own reasons.
In some of the spare time he had possessed, he had watched the video files on the battles against the Angels. The one that he found most satisfying was the one that showed Unit 01 ripping free of the Twelfth Angel's body in a monsoon of blood and gore. He loved watching that sequence. He had watched over and over again, almost imagining that the Angel was screaming in pain. He wanted to do the same thing. He wanted to rip each one limb from limb. To watch them bleed in floods over the city that he cared nothing for. The only thing he was fighting for was validation. To prove that he could take care of those who were important to him. In control of an EVA, no one could ever hurt his family again. He was going to be a pilot. He had his reasons.
His thoughts were cut short as he entered the cage area and got another look at the EVA that was now his. When he had first seen it, it had repulsed him. It was covered in black armor, with a couple of streaks of white on the arms and chest. The armor's color reminded him of the track suit he always wore. It seemed to be a mocking reflection of himself in this beast. He had hated it. He had still not found his reason then.
But now he loved its appearance. Black and white. There are only two sides to the fight, and only one can win. He would win. They could send as many Angels as they wanted, he would still win. He'd tear each one into shreds. The colors suited him now. They were his colors. This was his EVA. He was happier now. He had his reasons.
Author's notes:
Feeling dark today? Yes.
I had felt a particular mood come over me before I wrote this. The whole thing took only an hour. I had been planning to do something else actually, but this came out instead. I still plan to write that other fic, but it will sort of be a sequel to this one.
I had always thought that Toji was something of a tragic character in EVA. I sort of like to mess around with a few themes when I write about him, namely his protective nature, his pride, his bully nature, and (for some reason) the value of fighting (specifically of being some sort of soldier).