►► @ayanamitype → PLOTTED STARTER.
▐░▒▓ ►► 「 ɴᴏ. 03 ; 」
HE’S LOST TRACK OF
the days since he’s been brought back here.
No one in WILLE knows what to do yet. Not with him — and not with the girl they’ve recovered alongside him. But Asuka has insisted that they take her as well as him. So here she is, somewhere. And here he is.
The hours melt into each other in his holding room. Into days. Weeks. Shinji doesn’t know how long anymore. But everyone aboard the ship told him the same things as before: you aren’t going to be doing anything anymore. The warmth of anything and everything he’s ever known, in the old world and in the past so many months, is gone. Ayanami is gone. Misato is gone ( or, the Misato he knows ). Kaworu is gone. Any shred of willpower he may have had left — gone.
So why wake in this stiff, musty old bed anymore? Why go through the motions? There’s no use for him anymore — what’s the point?
The glass door opens. Shinji jumps, going rigid in his seat. He doesn’t turn to face the doorway, at first; he only listens for a voice, but there is none. And when there is none, no one to chide him or drag him away somewhere, Shinji decides to turn. And when he does, there is Ayanami. And there she isn’t, at the same time. He grits his teeth, furrows his brow.
There’s still something about her presence; something poised, something maternal, almost. But the familiar face doesn’t bring him comfort this time; it’s not the face of the girl he knows. That he wants to see.
So he doesn’t say anything.
