Sacrificial offerings

It was the same ceiling again.

After those hands gripped her, Rei Ayanami woke with a start amid the pain. No one had ever used the word "startled" to describe her before, but some inexplicable terror had truly frightened her.

As she slowly raised her gaze, the first thing she saw was that all-too-familiar ceiling.

Warm, gentle, orange-red light poured generously through the window, holding nothing back as it bathed the room in a pale golden hue...

Yet the dream still lingered in Rei Ayanami's mind.

An echo like the lapping of waves seemed to linger in her ears. An angel resembling both a fish and a bird wanted to spread its wings and fly into the sky, only to be trapped by the boundless sea.

"It hurts... Shinji." Staring at the white ceiling, the girl slowly voiced her answer, as though confiding in the boy from her dream.

"I haven't even done anything yet," Shinji Ikari replied softly. "The doctor said your injuries aren't actually that serious this time. It's mostly sensory stimulation. You'll have to bear with it for a while, but it'll stop hurting soon."

Hearing his voice, Rei Ayanami was immediately a little surprised. She had already lost count of how many times she had distinctly felt that emotion today.

She thought she could faintly hear pages turning. Lying in bed, Rei Ayanami turned her head and looked toward the source of the sound.

The boy sat beside the bed with a book in his hands. She had read it too: Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra.

The hospital room was spacious and empty. Who knew whether it felt lonely? Fortunately, it had two people here to keep it company.

Shinji Ikari looked at the silent girl on the hospital bed, whose gaze was fixed in a trance on the book in his hands.

"Do you like this book too? Do you know which passage I like best?"

"No." Rei Ayanami came back to herself and spoke softly, looking at the white sheet covering her.

Shinji Ikari smiled faintly, closed the book, and set it beside her pillow. "Man is a rope stretched between the animal and the overman-a rope over an abyss."

"A dangerous crossing, a dangerous journey, a dangerous looking back, a dangerous trembling and standing still."

"What is great in man is that he is a bridge and not a goal: what is lovable in man is that he is a transition and a going under."

Rei Ayanami did not respond. The book's contents were not unfamiliar to her; she could even recite them from memory. She had never really understood them, but now she seemed to understand a little.

She simply looked at him and asked, "Have you been here the whole time?"

"More or less. There's nowhere else to go at headquarters anyway." Shinji Ikari nodded slightly, his tone perfectly calm. "You seem a little different."

"Different how?" Rei Ayanami blinked in confusion.

"More alive, as a person." Smiling, Shinji Ikari handed her a meal tray.

"Are you hungry? The doctor said you could eat, and you need to get your strength back. You don't like meat, so I took care of all of it."

"Yes. I don't like it." Rei Ayanami nodded. Never mind eating it-she did not even particularly like looking at it.

She's almost too docile. Shinji Ikari narrowed his eyes slightly as he studied the girl sitting on the hospital bed.

But Rei Ayanami did not shy away from his unblinking stare. As though no one else were there, she raised a hand, gently hooked her collar open, and lowered her head to look at her body.

The agony, like flesh being sliced away and bones being scraped, remained vivid in her memory. Yet as she lowered her head and examined every inch of her skin, she found no burns, no penetrating wounds, and no missing limbs.

She was still Rei Ayanami, whole and intact.

"I'm sorry. I failed to complete the mission," Rei Ayanami said.

"You don't have to apologize. You don't owe anyone an apology. Once you step onto the battlefield, no one has the right to blame you, whether you win or lose. Eat first. You'll need food to get your strength back."

Shinji Ikari shrugged. "Second Lieutenant Katsuragi asked me to tell you that Operation Yashima will begin at midnight tomorrow. Unit-01 and Unit-00 are to reach the Second Fortress before eight thirty tonight."

"But I already failed in my first battle."

"Even if you fail again, it doesn't matter. Humans are creatures that keep getting back up after they fall."

"It doesn't matter?"

"It doesn't matter, because I am with you all."

The commander-in-chief's office.

Emergency lighting carved the room into blocks of light and shadow. The air carried the faint, acrid smell of scorched circuit boards, mingled with a barely perceptible scent of blood.

Gendo Ikari sat with his back to the enormous observation window. His usually immaculate uniform jacket hung over the back of his chair, the collar of his white shirt had been tugged open, and medical tape covered his cheekbone. In the dim light, the split at the corner of his mouth looked like a newly formed wrinkle.

His glasses lay on the desk, a distinct crack running through one lens.

Kozo Fuyutsuki pushed the door open and entered without knocking.

He carried two paper cups. He set one steaming cup of black coffee in front of Gendo Ikari, then sat in the shadows across from him.

Silence spread between them, broken only by the low hum of the ventilation system.

Kozo Fuyutsuki said calmly, "The Medical Department says it's only multiple facial fractures and injuries. They're rather perplexed about how to describe the cause in their report-'an accident resulting from high-intensity combat training in the command chair'?"

Gendo Ikari did not touch the coffee. He slowly put his glasses back on, the crack splitting his right eye into two blurred images.

His voice was low but unusually steady. "Let Ritsuko handle it. She always writes the best reports."

Fuyutsuki gave a very quiet laugh, almost a sigh. "I see. Just today, two hours ago, every surveillance camera 'happened' to malfunction!"

Gendo Ikari tapped the desk once with his fingertips, a tiny, almost nervous gesture. "This wasn't part of the plan. Nor is there any value in pursuing it."

"Value?" Kozo Fuyutsuki wanted to scoff, but held himself back.

Gendo Ikari remained silent for a long time. He took off his glasses and slowly wiped the crack with his cuff, only making it more blurred. "He said he would teach me how to be a decent human being?"

Fuyutsuki's gaze sharpened slightly.

Gendo Ikari continued as though reporting experimental observations. "When his fists came down, there was disgust in his eyes. But in the end, he stopped."

Kozo Fuyutsuki: What are you hoping for?

Gendo Ikari continued, "Pain is a definite signal. It proves that contact is taking place. The barrier... was temporarily broken through by an inefficient but direct method. He simply chose the worst possible form of contact. But for us, this is a good thing."

The best way to break down the barrier between father and son

That's a rather hardcore way of making a connection, Kozo Fuyutsuki silently grumbled to himself, though he felt the other man was mostly refusing to admit the truth.

"So how will you deal with Unit-01's pilot?"

"The Dummy System is currently in its trial phase. Until it becomes viable for practical use, we can only use the pilots we have."

"Would brainwashing be the worst-case scenario?"

"If even that fails, we'll send Rei into action."

"Having Rei pilot Unit-01 would be too risky, wouldn't it?"

"Whatever means we use, we must defeat the remaining Angels. They are the sacrificial offerings that will set the ritual in motion."