Day 55: Cafeteria

[mustbethesuit]

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[sdatislife]

Well, Shinji hadn't planned on doing that much sleeping anyway. The very sudden, very swift change from yesterday was a complete surprise to him - but he wasn't about to object to soldiers who looked like they meant business. He'd hastily put on the new uniform they'd provided for him (this all felt like another dream). He even had a little pin on his cap - "SC", whatever that meant. The uniform felt a bit too tight, a bit too constricting.

He hadn't had time to get used to it, though. He'd found himself hustled down familiar corridors and into the dining hall. The sheer amount of soldiers gave him a moment of pause. What the woman told them did seem to break through his usual stupor and silence, though.

That wasn't fair. He hadn't done anything yesterday. He wanted to object - but if he did, that would just mean more trouble for him. He fidgeted and glanced at the room around him - the same crowd. Some people he recognized, others he didn't. Maybe they should just do as asked. Get it over with. Not like it'd be any different from what he'd done back home for Misato's - his - apartment.

Well, except this time he'd be doing it because he was forced. His stomach grumbled and he ignored the pang of hunger. Thinking about it wasn't going to help him. He picked up a rag and after a moment of staring at it dully, he dipped it into the water they'd provided and wrung it out.

Time to get to work.

[For Minato.]

[foolishmessiah]

While he wasn't exactly unfamiliar with rude awakenings (several midnight conversations with Pharos saw to that), Minato never liked that feeling of being dragged out of bed; he enjoyed his sleep, and would stay put as long as possible if he happened to have nothing to do for the day.

Today wasn't one of those days. He heard the clamor in the corridors before he was out of bed, and he stiffly sat up and looked around his room. By now, the fading of night only to awaken back in his room was not disconcerting, and he was able to tell that something was different.

My clothes? His brows knitted together in confusion as he pushed his blanket off, gray eyes taking in the very different uniform he was wearing. Someone had literally changed his clothes between him falling asleep and waking up, trading the familiar (if disliked) smiley-faced shirt for a long-sleeved shirt. The trousers and belt he also wore reminded him somewhat of his school uniform, and he shifted in bed to get a better look around. To the side of his bed was a pair of boots, more solid than the slippers he had worn just the day before.

He stared from his perch on the bed as a soldier entered with little fanfare, the door swinging and left wide open. "Get dressed, Aarons. Time to report to the cafeteria." Minato brushed at his new uniform a bit, but pulled on the new boots and stood up. Whatever was going on, he knew that behaving was the best route with these military types--especially if yesterday was any sign of what would happen. The soldier silently pointed to his desk, where other pieces of his new uniform sat--a black beret, gloves, a silver chain with his fake name and other things (C Class?) on it, and...

He shouldn't have been so disappointed to see that smiley face on the armband, but he was.

Minato continued to look at his new uniform even after he had dressed and left his room with the soldier. He had noticed his thumb had healed quickly before slipping on his gloves, and he couldn't help but stare at the pin on his beret before he put it on. SC. It took a few moments to connect the dots, but he grimaced to himself upon realizing what the pin meant--Special Counseling. These soldiers must have been observing them just like the Head Doctor, or they had come across information themselves. Now he had to wear a pin that displayed the fact that the institute had succeeded in brainwashing him.

Great. Just great.

The state of the cafeteria returned Minato's attention to the rest of his surroundings, and he stayed integrated with the other patients (all of them similarly uniformed) as he listened to who he could only assume was a superior officer of all these other soldiers.

He wasn't surprised to hear they had to clean up the cafeteria. It was a good way to teach them a lesson. But all of them who had not done anything had to do the cleaning now? He shut his eyes and hung his head for a few moments. ...And then he began peeling off the gloves he had just put on, grabbing a scrubber and soaking it in the water before kneeling where there weren't as many people working.

This was going to be a long shift.

[sdatislife]

[[OOC: Slight correction - pin on Shinj should be MU not SC. Herp.]]

For a few minutes Shinji worked in sullen silence. He hated this. He hated himself for giving in so easily. He didn't really complain about the hunger - his appetite probably wouldn't be that great anyway. Mostly he just felt tired - the same dull exhaustion that had been dogging him for a long, long time. He scrubbed at a particular tile over and over again, working mechanically, as if he could lose himself in the work. The collar on his shirt was too tight and he wondered if he would get in trouble if he tried to loosen it.

He was too afraid of possible repercussions to try.

He kept working as the minutes dragged on and he found himself next to a boy around his age - a bit older probably. Everyone looked older in these uniforms, though. He sighed softly, eying Minato out of the corner of his eye. After a moment, there was one little piece of rebellion - a mutter to his companion, sounding resigned and disappointed, "Why are they making us do this? We didn't do anything wrong."

[foolishmessiah]

Minato scrubbed in one spot to work up a lather; spreading bubbles around would probably make it look like he was working harder than he actually wanted to. He wasn't especially missing breakfast; he hadn't done much the previous night, so he was still functioning well enough without a meal. Two meals, though? That wasn't a pleasant thought.

A glance over his shoulder gave him a good look at the boy working beside him--younger, thinner, and timid in appearance. Just another face he hadn't seen in the institute, now aimed downward and reluctantly focused on the task at hand.

So he was surprised to hear the boy mutter, barely audible over the scratching of his scrubber against the floor. He didn't answer right away, giving the immediate area a quick visual sweep; the soldiers were observing, but not intensely so. "To make us resent each other." His voice was calm and not unkind.

If he focused only on what he was doing, he would be understanding only half of the situation; there were still the ones who had openly rebelled yesterday, and they were the ones who would continue taking flack, simply by being placed apart from the majority for this punishment.

He couldn't help but wonder how effective the soldiers' plan would be.

[sdatislife]

It was effective on Shinji, in a way. He certainly felt resentment, although it was aimed much more at himself for not standing up for himself. He couldn't even object to being treated unfairly. How pathetic. He just did what he was asked because he didn't want to be hated. He feared being hated. So he kept silent.

Although, like now, the occasional thought or word slipped out. He moved on to a new tile, still scrubbing obediently. It took him a moment or two t reply. "...why? Why would they want us to hate each other?"

That didn't make any sense to him. He thought they'd been mental patients. Now they were supposed to be soldiers? Was he going to have to fight again? He thought that maybe, just maybe, he would be able to move beyond that special brand of suffering and pain.

[foolishmessiah]

"There's probably a few reasons." He shook his head, sweeping the suds to a new tile and continuing to work alongside the younger boy. Conversation dulled the monotony of the task, so he wasn't in any hurry to give up what he was doing. But he still kept relatively quiet and spoke infrequently, not wanting to somehow get them in trouble for what could be conspiratorial talk.

"Easier to keep control of a divided group." Recalling what he had seen on the chain and tag he was now wearing, Minato decided to ask a question of his own. "What was written on your tag?"

[sdatislife]

"My tag...?" Shinji looked a bit startled and then hastily looked away, trying to look focused on his work. Of course, he wasn't a very good actor, so that failed a bit miserably. Fortunately, no one seemed to be paying attention. Or they didn't care. He kept scrubbing, trying to find tiny specks of dirt and food and slough them off.

He carefully fished his tag out, glanced at it, and then stuck it back down his shirt with a furtive glance. "Um... Sean Inoue... C Class. And then a number."

A beat.

"...that's not my name." He sounded unsure of that, though. And he wasn't. Everything over the past week and a half seemed like some crazy dream. Maybe he really was Sean. Of course, he was also clinging to Shinji Ikari - because at least Shinji Ikari knew who he was and knew where he belonged. He hesitated again. It would be polite to return the question, wouldn't it? Or would it be rude?

"...what did your tag have on it?"

[foolishmessiah]

A contemplative hum was all Minato gave in response for a moment. So he was C Class, too. What was that supposed to mean? And what was the number for? Minato spared a glance in the direction of his own tags, dangling down as he kept scrubbing the floor. He had already read them and recognized the fake name the nurses had given him.

"The same name the nurses called me--Christian Aarons," he eventually replied, finding a pesky stain and adjusting his arm to put more pressure on it. "And 'C Class,' just like you. It might be some sort of group or division." There was something about his tone that made it clear he had no idea what it really signified. But it fit with his earlier idea of the military controlling them somehow.

He paused as he finished with the stain, allowing himself some time to stretch his arm. Just a few seconds. "My real name is Minato Arisato."

[sdatislife]

"Maybe it's based on our age...?" Shinji hazarded a guess. It made about as much sense as anything else he could think of. He had now way of knowing what else they would classify them on. He shrugged and turned to dunk and wring out his sponge again. For a just a moment he stopped to let his arms rest and then went right back to scrubbing.

Honestly, at times there was something slightly therapeutic about cleaning. Watching little specks of dirt and dust give way and be swept up - for some reason it pleased him. He wasn't sure way. He glanced at Minato with a little nod, "I'm Shinji Ikari...."

Someone else from Japan. Well, they seemed to be from all sorts of different places around here.

[foolishmessiah]

It was possible that the "class" was based on their ages. But with only one example other than his own tag, Minato chose to remain noncommittal, simply nodding at Shinji's guess. Wanting to delay returning to scrubbing a little longer, he followed the younger boy's example and dipped his scrubber back in the water.

He was glad that nicking his thumb hadn't left him with a significant cut; at the moment, he wasn't sure whether these soldiers would allow him to take care of it in the middle of cleaning. Sure, there were a few injured people who seemed to be allowed to sit out of the cleaning, but it didn't look like there were any doctors around now. ...But maybe there is a medic, he randomly thought. This was supposed to be a military group, after all.

"Shinji-kun." Minato said his new acquaintance's name, testing it out. He was used to meeting so many older patients that it was a bit different to use this other honorific--but not in a bad way. A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Nice to meet you."

[sdatislife]

Shinji almost flinched - he wasn't used to new people being quite so friendly. Well, that wasn't entirely true - he didn't think they should be that friendly to him. He wasn't worth it - but it was still a pleasant surprise when they were. Even i he wasn't sure about it. He gave the tile he was working on one more scrub, examined it earnestly to make sure that it really was clean (just because he was being forced didn't mean he was going to do a bad job), and shifted back.

He let out a long, slow breath and finally smiled at Minato - albeit weakly, but still a polite smile, with some genuine happiness buried under there somewhere. "Nice to meet you too, Minato-san. Ah..."

He needed a moment to come up with something to continue with. And to do some more scrubbing.

"How long have you been here?"

[foolishmessiah]

Minato had to count the days at the question. Sometimes the days seemed to stretch on forever, and sometimes the nights ended so abruptly that he could almost forget to make the distinction between one day and the last. He had started counting the days in his journal as well, but he had no updated it for a few days.

"Almost two weeks," he said, frowning slightly as he responded. Two weeks, and he had seen friends disappear and reappear in the institute. He had been brainwashed, armed with a proper sword, and gone through portals into a zombie-filled Doyleton.

This place was almost as eventful as home.

"How about you?"

[sdatislife]

It was much the same for Shinji, really. Some days he woke up expecting to find himself back in bed in Tokyo-3. Other days it seemed like Tokyo-3 was very long ago - even if it had only been two weeks. Shinji frowned and scrubbed extra hard at the tile in front of him while he thought.

"I... I don't know... I think almost two weeks."

The fact that he didn't know for certain troubled him, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. Just something else he couldn't control in his life. He'd already lost control of most of it, so what was one more factor that he'd never be able to fully grasp?

"It's hard to keep track of time here..."

[foolishmessiah]

"It is." There was no denying that fact. The nurses were the ones escorting him around according to some shift schedule, and he had never been able to keep track of time once night fell. The Dark Hour tended to make nights more fast-faced, so the transition to the institute had been understandably different.

He sloshed a little too much water out of bucket as he reached for more water, sighing as his sleeves got wet. Looking around, Minato dropped his brush and properly rolled up his sleeves. A soldier gave him a passing glance, but did not say anything. Perhaps it was okay, trying to keep their uniforms from getting too dirty.

As he returned to scrubbing, Minato began speaking in a quiet voice again. "I wonder if they intend to train us." They were dressed up like military, being punished in what he might consider a military-like way... Would their activities for the day be replaced by physical drills and such now?

[sdatislife]

Shinji glanced up at the soldiers nervously as Minato rolled up his sleeves. After a moment and seeing as no one appeared to drag Minato off for a dressing down, Shinji followed suit. It'd make his life easier later. He settled back on his haunches and wrung out his sponge again. Any appetite he made have had was gone by now. He needed to eat at some point, but he usually just picked at his food anyway. He sighed and adjust his beret before going back to cleaning.

Training. Were they going to be trained? To fight? Shinji's shoulders stiffened as he tensed up at the thought. He didn't want to fight anymore. He couldn't. He didn't want to be hurt, he didn't want to listen to friends die, he didn't want to be responsible for any of that. He swallowed and took a deep breath, trying to ease the sudden tension in his chest, the heavy feeling on his shoulders.

He'd be OK. Really.

"I... I hope not. I don't want to fight..."

[foolishmessiah]

"I don't either. But sometimes you have to." He tried to shrug off the idea, even though he was the one to bring it up. Making a boy younger than himself worry about those possibilities was probably going to make him even more anxious than he already seemed to be.

And that could be a very bad thing with all these soldiers around. They were intimidating, carrying weapons and aiming those stern gazes at them, and somehow he was doubtful that they would be lenient on even the youngest of the patients.

"...Just keep your head down for now." It was a suggestion, followed by a supportive glance at Shinji. Maybe they would be able to figure out a few things later on. But this early on, blending in would be the best way to go.