Shinji's scream faded out as he drew breath and then petered out entirely as he stared at his surroundings in confusion. There was a cold sweat on his brow, as if he'd just woken up out of a nightmare (or was it something more) and for a moment he was dumbfounded, simply staring at the walls of the empty classroom, listening to the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. After what seemed to him an eternity he took a deep shuddering breath and looked down at his hands, flexed them, felt the muscle and bone shift under his skin. His breath caught, then eased as the overwhelming sense of panic and claustrophobia, of the walls being too tight, too close, closing in, crushing him with their weight-
Died.
He stood on rubbery legs, felt and heard the scrape of his chair against the floor as it shifted. This couldn't be right. He'd just been in the entry plug. He'd been trapped, dying as the life support ran out, hallucinating, calling up images of a boy who hadn't really existed, of an institute he'd never seen or heard of before.
Unless that had been the dream. He wasn't sure he could tell. This felt real (but hadn't it felt real in the Sea, those surreal journeys through his psyche). He walked toward the door and stretched his hand out to slide it open, when it was suddenly thrust open from the other side. He had time to register a familiar shock of red hair and a pair of striking blue eyes before a familiar voice reached his ears.
"Guten morgen, Shinji! Not going to spend your whole morning daydreaming, are you?" The sing-song tone, the sharp undercurrent of vindictive glee. Asuka. He tried to get a reply out as his mind whirled, trying to process everything at once.
"A-Asuka! I- What are you doing here? I thought-" That she was comatose in a hospital bed somewhere. Waiting outside of the Sea. Trapped in the institute with him. Gone.
"What do you mean what am I doing here?" Her hand shot out and she gave his cheek a vicious tug as she strode past him, schoolbag slung over one shoulder. "We've only been in the same home-room class since kindergarten!"
Shinji winced, felt the pain blossom and spread and he reached a hand up to rub at it ruefully as Asuka strode onward. "But... we were just..."
This didn't seem quite right. But the pain, the sense of normalcy, the way she acted and sounded like Asuka would (and not a strange phantom), soothed his doubts. "...n-never mind."
Asuka paused in her stride to shoot him a glance over her shoulder, one eyebrow cocked, "You are so weird, you know that?"
He laughed nervously - would this all spiral away again or had everything else just been a horrible nightmare? "Y-yeah. I know..."
Outside of the plug the information on the monitors was changing rapidly but the doctor hardly noticed; if for the increased speed of typed commands things might have been entirely the same as before, as the white-coated figure remained calm. Emotionless and professional. Within, however, was the tiny kernel of pride, edging almost into what might be called glee, even. It was working. So far, but working.
One finger tapped the enter key and within Shinji's world the classroom doors slid open, admitting the students who'd been lingering in the hallways and filling the room with life, voices raised in a number of conversations and friendly greetings. It was all... normal. As normal as any school might be, with warm summer sun flooding through the windows to cast it all in bright, real illumination.
Or was it real?
Another keystroke, and for just the barest instant there was a small boy, dark-haired and wearing a striped t-shirt, standing in the doorway as well. A blink later he was gone, as though he'd never been.
For a bare few moments, Shinji felt warm, welcome relief flood through him and over him. It was just another day at school. He allowed himself the smallest flicker of hope, that he would sit through class, that he would go home and that he would find a normal home life waiting for him. No Eva to pilot. No monsters to fight. He could be a normal, teenage boy again. He slowly settled into his desk, fingers flexing as he half-listened to Asuka start going on about something. He would probably get yelled at for not paying attention, but the sound of her voice was enough.
Then he caught sight of the small boy standing in the doorway. He felt the color drain out of his face and just as quickly the boy was gone. He knew who that was. He remembered that shirt. He remembered wearing it. His doubts reasserted themselves with a vengeance. Was this real? Was any of it? He stood again, knocking his chair over backward. Asuka - (was it really her)halted in the middle of her sentence and stared at him, "Shinji, what's wrong with you?"
He looked at her, open-mouthed, eyes wide. He couldn't handle this. Panic welled up in him again. Fear. Despair. Confusion. "This... this isn't...!"
He fumbled through the classroom, heading for the door. Caught a glimpse of Toji and Kensuke, of pale blue hair and red eyes and then he was out in the hallway, gasped for breath, drew it in as he started to mutter over and over again as his voice rose in pitch, "It's not real. None of this is real. It isn't real!"
He drew in another breath, saw blackness start to nibble at the edges of his vision. Could he hyper-ventilate inside of a hallucination?
The telltale light glowed like a sullen ember as the doctor held down the button, transmitting words into the entry plug that could be heard or simply sensed, incorporated or ignored as the subject willed. Within was Shinji's reality, after all, and the external influences were only that. The irony of it all was that he'd never consciously realize just how much power he truly had, not according to the psych profile the doctor was working with.
"What defines your reality, Shinji Ikari?"
And with that the doctor drew back again, microphone clicking off with a faint hiss of static. Back to the keyboard again, to the orderly flow of codes and readouts; alter the dosage here to balance and steady, increase the oxygen flow slightly there to compensate for unexpected use, reacting to his choices. Ever his choices, his definition of what was true.
What did define his reality? That was a question he'd been asking himself since the Sea of Dirac. Since he'd arrived in Tokyo-3. Since he'd been a child. He still didn't have an answer for it. Was any of what he'd done real? Was it all just another delusion in a chain of imagined lives and twisted memories? He tried to scream again, a choked, wretching sound as blackness overtook his vision and everything spiraled away.
He came to in a train car. A perfectly ordinary train car. Evening light poured in, casting the whole compartment in a strange orange color. He clutched at his knees, trying to sort out his thoughts.
Who are you, Shinji Ikari? Has anything you've ever done actually been real? Or are you really just a sick child clinging to fantasies?
"No! I'm real! I'm... I'm me..."
He trailed off, silence filling the car again. Replaced the voice inside of his head. He tried to speak again. "I... If I don't know if my life is real... who am I?"
The train continued onward for hours, minutes, perhaps only just seconds; the light entering the windows never changed to indicate a passage of time, after all, leaving the car in a perpetual orange haze. And then the next time he blinked--
Soft afternoon sunlight. A white ceiling overhead, blank but for a fluorescent fixture in the center. The curtains around the bed were pulled only partially closed, allowing a view of the rest of the room: the nurse's office at the school. Apparently empty, still and quiet but for the tick of the clock on the wall competing with the monotonous buzz of cicadas outside the half-open window.
The drugs were taking deeper hold now, the doctor noted from outside the false plug; with the foundations now set each successive scenario should feel more real. It remained to be seen, however, if the boy chose to reject what was presented to him-- or which one that was presented to him. That could be interesting indeed.
Shinji blinked, stared at the ceiling for a few long moments. It was familiar, like a half-remembered dream. He'd been here before, he was sure of it. He slowly pushed himself up on his elbows and listened to the familiar buzz. That was a sound he'd heard all his life. One that accompanied every summer (or was it always summer). He glanced down at the tile floor, recognized the scuff marks, the little dents and scrapes built up over years of students passing through. At least he thought he recognized them. He'd always been here, he'd always attended this school, hadn't he?
Dim memories, vague images of horrific monsters, of pain, of screams and anguish and hatred rattled his skull and he lifted a hand to press it against his forehead. Who was he? He felt sure his name was Sean. No; Shinji. Shinji Ikari. Someone moved beyond the curtain, rustling the fabric. He glanced up, startled and when he blinked his world shifted again.
Cold sweat covered his brow and his gloved hands covered the controls of his Eva; an Angel, a target, the enemy, in front of him. Garbled messages and screams mixed with static in his ears. Never-ending war for the fate of humanity, for his own life. The weight of the world on his shoulders and all he wanted to do was give up, to withdraw into himself and let someone else take it all on. What had been the point? He'd tortured himself with dreams of being normal, of simply going to school and never having heard of an Eva. But he hadn't. He'd simply gone on clambering into the entry plug, because there was no one else. Because if he didn't, someone else would have to go through the pain and the suffering he endured. Because Misato wanted him to. Because his father (he hated him) wanted him to.
His fingers tightened their grip; he blinked again.
He was sitting at a dining room table. His mother and father next to him, talking about the work-day. A small smile twitched at his lips. His mother was well, always had been (a lie), his father had been there to support him (never). They loved him (a fantasy). He wanted this to be real. It felt real. It had to be real. Because if it wasn't, which one of the nightmares did he really come from? Was he Sean, a sick boy who suffered under constant delusions and hallucinations? Was he Shinji Ikari, suffering through life for the sake of others, for the sake of his self-hatred?
He desperately wanted to be normal. As much as he wanted to stay, as much as he desperately believed that this one had to be real (as much as he doubted).
The nurse's office again. Was this real? He kept returning here.
The curtain pushed back with the scraping rattle of rings on rail and the nurse regarded the boy with a smile that didn't come close to being echoed in her eyes. "So you're awake," she observed, tone making it nothing more than a simple observation. "Well, there's nothing wrong with you that a little rest won't cure. I know exams are coming up, but if you wear yourself out studying you won't be around to actually take them."
She continued on without a pause, stepping forward and reaching out to touch his forehead. "One of your friends is waiting in the hallway to take you home. Go straight there, is my advice; go home and eat something and get some rest. Heaven knows you don't look you've had anything like food or sleep lately, I don't know how you children survive."
Which friend, though. Which friend would he choose, would his mind put into place in the scenario laid out before him. And... which home? "Just how do you define your own reality, Shinji Ikari?" the doctor murmured softly, stubbing out a cigarette before returning to the keyboard again. There was still much to be done, and always so little time in which to do it.
Apologies; holidays ate me. ><sdatislifeDecember 27 2010, 09:11:43 UTC
Shinji blinked, rubbed at his eyes, almost sure that this would dissolve into another place, another time, more hallucinations and fevered imaginings. He'd be back in Landel's. Or back in Tokyo-3. Or somewhere, anywhere but this horrifically normal school. When the world failed to fade away into something else, he simply sat back for a moment, only half-listening to the nurse. The tone of her voice carried a command, though, and he obeyed it, almost without thinking. He stood with an absent-minded nod and shuffled toward the door. Every step that didn't end with another dissolve, another shift in reality, reinforced the idea that this was real; maybe everything else had simply been a dream, exhaustion. This was real, wasn't it?
He stepped into the hallway and found himself facing-
Kaworu? He stammered for a moment, suddenly felt his cheeks flush. Why was he so embarrassed? he shuffled his feet and looked away as Kaworu simply regarded him with his ever-present smile. "I... uh..."
He couldn't find the words. There was a strange rush in his head, his heart was beating; this wasn't normal, was it? The idea of dreams and reality began to fade as he dealt with the more immediate problem of embarrassment.
"We should." Though he could hardly have been seen to move, the pale-haired boy was now directly next to Shinji, well within what most would consider their personal space and yet exhibiting no sign of discomfort from it. There was a hint of concern in his eyes as he studied his friend for any sign of illness; his collapse in the middle of class had been both dramatic and unexpected, but the nurse had said it was nothing.
Whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him, for the boy lifted the bag he was holding -- one of a pair, the other being his own -- before nodding down the hall. "I have your things, don't worry." And there he hesitated a moment longer before his normal smile widened and warmed just a fraction, just enough that someone who knew him well would notice. Though he formed none of it into words the look said that he was pleased to see his friend so much improved. Pleased simply to see him.
"Oh. Um... t-thank you." He rubbed at the back of his neck - he'd caused a lot of trouble for people ad they were still treating him kindly. How embarrassing. He hastily reached a hand out. "H-here! I can take that!"
A bit too loud, a bit too quick, but Kaworu made him a bit nervous sometimes. Different from the others. His face flushed and he waited, arm extended. Landel's, the Eva - a fading dream. He could live in this reality where he had friends, where there was nothing to worry about but school and chores.
For several heartbeats Kaworu only studied the outstretched hand like some new and fascinating creature, then finally set the handle of the bag there, though he didn't draw back. His palm rested against Shinji's with only the handle between them, fingertips resting against the pulse point in his wrist; still without a word Kaworu watched him with an unreadable smile. And then, finally: "You shouldn't be so afraid."
The words fell into the silence, soft-voiced and mild but no less sincere for that. Kaworu remained still a moment longer, then drew his hand back again and stepped away. "I'm to take care of you, the nurse said," he observed, with a gravity that said he intended to obey to the letter. "I didn't need to be told." And with that he turned away, slinging his own bag over his shoulder and idly humming to himself as he moved toward the stairs, clearly confident that Shinji would be right behind him.
And outside the plug the doctor leaned back in the chair with a soft creak of springs, exhaling a long stream of smoke toward the display monitors. "A pleasant fabrication. Tranquility. Affection. Like an endless summer." A contemplative silence briefly followed, then the doctor stubbed the cigarette out in an already-overflowing ashtray with unnecessary force and leaned forward to resume the ordered flow of codes and commands, the dance of fingers over keyboard measured by the metronomic click of keys. "But dreams... always end."
Shinji let out a long sigh of relief as Kaworu turned away. Dreams. All dreams. Maybe now he could relax. He took a step after Kaworu, another, and then he lost his footing and darkness rushed up to meet him. For a moment, scenes of his life flashed through his mind - was he Shinji Ikari, Eva pilot? Shinji Ikari, a school-boy? Sena Inoue, a sick child trying to escape his own life? They all mixed together, twisting until he wasn't sure which was which or even what direction "up" was.
He came back to himself in the plug, feeling weak. Was this another dream? Would this all get swept away and be replaced by another reality? He didn't know anymore. He wasn't even sure if he cared, so long as it remained constant; unchanging.
The voice, once again, was female... but not Misato's. Still familiar to Shinji, but calmer and detached rather than showing any sign of anxiety or concern. A moment later light flared within the plug, resolving into a display of the interior of the testing hangar at NERV; through the observation window a single blonde figure was partially visible behind a bank of equipment.
After a brief pause the voice continued, speaking with a hint of clinical curiosity, as of a scientist examining dry figures rather than a human being. "The question is, where are you going to go from here?"
Shinji shrank back from the sudden light, squinting as his eyes adjusted. There's confusion, turmoil. Who is this? Why is he at NERV again? What possible purpose could a test like this have? He flexed his fingers against the unresponsive controls. "I... I don't know... What was all that...? Who are you? Is this even real?"
There was a note of disapproval (or was that disappointment) in the woman's voice when she replied, "You wish to stay as you were? You have so much to choose from."
Outside of the plug the doctor's fingers danced over the keyboard, adjusting the levels of the drugs floating in the psuedo-LCL; gradually decreasing the dose of her own carefully-formulated cocktail, replacing it with a more simple sedative. After all, the mind needed time to recover after a shock she'd just induced, time to readjust the re-evaluate. A rest would do him good. It was like she was doing him a favor.
Her actions were mimicked by the simulation on the display screen before the boy, then the blonde figure lifted her head to look out the window toward the plug, her eyes narrowed slightly in critical thought. "Define your own reality, Shinji Ikari. Don't run away from it."
Died.
He stood on rubbery legs, felt and heard the scrape of his chair against the floor as it shifted. This couldn't be right. He'd just been in the entry plug. He'd been trapped, dying as the life support ran out, hallucinating, calling up images of a boy who hadn't really existed, of an institute he'd never seen or heard of before.
Unless that had been the dream. He wasn't sure he could tell. This felt real (but hadn't it felt real in the Sea, those surreal journeys through his psyche). He walked toward the door and stretched his hand out to slide it open, when it was suddenly thrust open from the other side. He had time to register a familiar shock of red hair and a pair of striking blue eyes before a familiar voice reached his ears.
"Guten morgen, Shinji! Not going to spend your whole morning daydreaming, are you?" The sing-song tone, the sharp undercurrent of vindictive glee. Asuka. He tried to get a reply out as his mind whirled, trying to process everything at once.
"A-Asuka! I- What are you doing here? I thought-" That she was comatose in a hospital bed somewhere. Waiting outside of the Sea. Trapped in the institute with him. Gone.
"What do you mean what am I doing here?" Her hand shot out and she gave his cheek a vicious tug as she strode past him, schoolbag slung over one shoulder. "We've only been in the same home-room class since kindergarten!"
Shinji winced, felt the pain blossom and spread and he reached a hand up to rub at it ruefully as Asuka strode onward. "But... we were just..."
This didn't seem quite right. But the pain, the sense of normalcy, the way she acted and sounded like Asuka would (and not a strange phantom), soothed his doubts. "...n-never mind."
Asuka paused in her stride to shoot him a glance over her shoulder, one eyebrow cocked, "You are so weird, you know that?"
He laughed nervously - would this all spiral away again or had everything else just been a horrible nightmare? "Y-yeah. I know..."
Reply
One finger tapped the enter key and within Shinji's world the classroom doors slid open, admitting the students who'd been lingering in the hallways and filling the room with life, voices raised in a number of conversations and friendly greetings. It was all... normal. As normal as any school might be, with warm summer sun flooding through the windows to cast it all in bright, real illumination.
Or was it real?
Another keystroke, and for just the barest instant there was a small boy, dark-haired and wearing a striped t-shirt, standing in the doorway as well. A blink later he was gone, as though he'd never been.
Reply
Then he caught sight of the small boy standing in the doorway. He felt the color drain out of his face and just as quickly the boy was gone. He knew who that was. He remembered that shirt. He remembered wearing it. His doubts reasserted themselves with a vengeance. Was this real? Was any of it? He stood again, knocking his chair over backward. Asuka - (was it really her)halted in the middle of her sentence and stared at him, "Shinji, what's wrong with you?"
He looked at her, open-mouthed, eyes wide. He couldn't handle this. Panic welled up in him again. Fear. Despair. Confusion. "This... this isn't...!"
He fumbled through the classroom, heading for the door. Caught a glimpse of Toji and Kensuke, of pale blue hair and red eyes and then he was out in the hallway, gasped for breath, drew it in as he started to mutter over and over again as his voice rose in pitch, "It's not real. None of this is real. It isn't real!"
He drew in another breath, saw blackness start to nibble at the edges of his vision. Could he hyper-ventilate inside of a hallucination?
Reply
The telltale light glowed like a sullen ember as the doctor held down the button, transmitting words into the entry plug that could be heard or simply sensed, incorporated or ignored as the subject willed. Within was Shinji's reality, after all, and the external influences were only that. The irony of it all was that he'd never consciously realize just how much power he truly had, not according to the psych profile the doctor was working with.
"What defines your reality, Shinji Ikari?"
And with that the doctor drew back again, microphone clicking off with a faint hiss of static. Back to the keyboard again, to the orderly flow of codes and readouts; alter the dosage here to balance and steady, increase the oxygen flow slightly there to compensate for unexpected use, reacting to his choices. Ever his choices, his definition of what was true.
Reply
He came to in a train car. A perfectly ordinary train car. Evening light poured in, casting the whole compartment in a strange orange color. He clutched at his knees, trying to sort out his thoughts.
Who are you, Shinji Ikari? Has anything you've ever done actually been real? Or are you really just a sick child clinging to fantasies?
"No! I'm real! I'm... I'm me..."
He trailed off, silence filling the car again. Replaced the voice inside of his head. He tried to speak again. "I... If I don't know if my life is real... who am I?"
He didn't receive an answer.
Reply
Soft afternoon sunlight. A white ceiling overhead, blank but for a fluorescent fixture in the center. The curtains around the bed were pulled only partially closed, allowing a view of the rest of the room: the nurse's office at the school. Apparently empty, still and quiet but for the tick of the clock on the wall competing with the monotonous buzz of cicadas outside the half-open window.
The drugs were taking deeper hold now, the doctor noted from outside the false plug; with the foundations now set each successive scenario should feel more real. It remained to be seen, however, if the boy chose to reject what was presented to him-- or which one that was presented to him. That could be interesting indeed.
Reply
Dim memories, vague images of horrific monsters, of pain, of screams and anguish and hatred rattled his skull and he lifted a hand to press it against his forehead. Who was he? He felt sure his name was Sean. No; Shinji. Shinji Ikari. Someone moved beyond the curtain, rustling the fabric. He glanced up, startled and when he blinked his world shifted again.
Cold sweat covered his brow and his gloved hands covered the controls of his Eva; an Angel, a target, the enemy, in front of him. Garbled messages and screams mixed with static in his ears. Never-ending war for the fate of humanity, for his own life. The weight of the world on his shoulders and all he wanted to do was give up, to withdraw into himself and let someone else take it all on. What had been the point? He'd tortured himself with dreams of being normal, of simply going to school and never having heard of an Eva. But he hadn't. He'd simply gone on clambering into the entry plug, because there was no one else. Because if he didn't, someone else would have to go through the pain and the suffering he endured. Because Misato wanted him to. Because his father (he hated him) wanted him to.
His fingers tightened their grip; he blinked again.
He was sitting at a dining room table. His mother and father next to him, talking about the work-day. A small smile twitched at his lips. His mother was well, always had been (a lie), his father had been there to support him (never). They loved him (a fantasy). He wanted this to be real. It felt real. It had to be real. Because if it wasn't, which one of the nightmares did he really come from? Was he Sean, a sick boy who suffered under constant delusions and hallucinations? Was he Shinji Ikari, suffering through life for the sake of others, for the sake of his self-hatred?
He desperately wanted to be normal. As much as he wanted to stay, as much as he desperately believed that this one had to be real (as much as he doubted).
The nurse's office again. Was this real? He kept returning here.
Another familiar ceiling.
Reply
She continued on without a pause, stepping forward and reaching out to touch his forehead. "One of your friends is waiting in the hallway to take you home. Go straight there, is my advice; go home and eat something and get some rest. Heaven knows you don't look you've had anything like food or sleep lately, I don't know how you children survive."
Which friend, though. Which friend would he choose, would his mind put into place in the scenario laid out before him. And... which home? "Just how do you define your own reality, Shinji Ikari?" the doctor murmured softly, stubbing out a cigarette before returning to the keyboard again. There was still much to be done, and always so little time in which to do it.
Reply
He stepped into the hallway and found himself facing-
Kaworu? He stammered for a moment, suddenly felt his cheeks flush. Why was he so embarrassed? he shuffled his feet and looked away as Kaworu simply regarded him with his ever-present smile. "I... uh..."
He couldn't find the words. There was a strange rush in his head, his heart was beating; this wasn't normal, was it? The idea of dreams and reality began to fade as he dealt with the more immediate problem of embarrassment.
"...I guess we should go, right?"
Reply
Whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him, for the boy lifted the bag he was holding -- one of a pair, the other being his own -- before nodding down the hall. "I have your things, don't worry." And there he hesitated a moment longer before his normal smile widened and warmed just a fraction, just enough that someone who knew him well would notice. Though he formed none of it into words the look said that he was pleased to see his friend so much improved. Pleased simply to see him.
Reply
A bit too loud, a bit too quick, but Kaworu made him a bit nervous sometimes. Different from the others. His face flushed and he waited, arm extended. Landel's, the Eva - a fading dream. He could live in this reality where he had friends, where there was nothing to worry about but school and chores.
Reply
The words fell into the silence, soft-voiced and mild but no less sincere for that. Kaworu remained still a moment longer, then drew his hand back again and stepped away. "I'm to take care of you, the nurse said," he observed, with a gravity that said he intended to obey to the letter. "I didn't need to be told." And with that he turned away, slinging his own bag over his shoulder and idly humming to himself as he moved toward the stairs, clearly confident that Shinji would be right behind him.
And outside the plug the doctor leaned back in the chair with a soft creak of springs, exhaling a long stream of smoke toward the display monitors. "A pleasant fabrication. Tranquility. Affection. Like an endless summer." A contemplative silence briefly followed, then the doctor stubbed the cigarette out in an already-overflowing ashtray with unnecessary force and leaned forward to resume the ordered flow of codes and commands, the dance of fingers over keyboard measured by the metronomic click of keys. "But dreams... always end."
Reply
He came back to himself in the plug, feeling weak. Was this another dream? Would this all get swept away and be replaced by another reality? He didn't know anymore. He wasn't even sure if he cared, so long as it remained constant; unchanging.
Reply
The voice, once again, was female... but not Misato's. Still familiar to Shinji, but calmer and detached rather than showing any sign of anxiety or concern. A moment later light flared within the plug, resolving into a display of the interior of the testing hangar at NERV; through the observation window a single blonde figure was partially visible behind a bank of equipment.
After a brief pause the voice continued, speaking with a hint of clinical curiosity, as of a scientist examining dry figures rather than a human being. "The question is, where are you going to go from here?"
Reply
Not that he really expected a straight answer.
Reply
Outside of the plug the doctor's fingers danced over the keyboard, adjusting the levels of the drugs floating in the psuedo-LCL; gradually decreasing the dose of her own carefully-formulated cocktail, replacing it with a more simple sedative. After all, the mind needed time to recover after a shock she'd just induced, time to readjust the re-evaluate. A rest would do him good. It was like she was doing him a favor.
Her actions were mimicked by the simulation on the display screen before the boy, then the blonde figure lifted her head to look out the window toward the plug, her eyes narrowed slightly in critical thought. "Define your own reality, Shinji Ikari. Don't run away from it."
Reply
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