Chapter 8: The Boy Out of Sync with the World
The deep blue Renault "tank" trudged stubbornly along the coastal highway.
Outside the window, the azure sea shimmered with golden ripples under the setting sun, where the sky seamlessly merged with the ocean in the distance—a scene that should have been breathtakingly beautiful.
Yet Shinji merely stared vacantly at the vast expanse of sea, his eyes hollow, as if his soul had drifted to some unreachable place.
The sea breeze swept through the shattered window, tousling the disheveled strands of hair on his forehead, yet failed to disperse the weight etched between his brows.
In the driver's seat, Misato appeared far more "lively."
She connected a call via the car's communicator, her tone cheerful, even carrying a hint of coquettishness: "...Mhm, don't worry! My most important task is to protect him, after all! Rest assured, not a single hair on his head will be harmed!"
As she spoke, she glanced at the boy in the passenger seat, who seemed completely detached from the world, and continued: "Well, help me arrange a transport vehicle, one that goes directly, okay? Yeah, since I volunteered to pick him up, I'll definitely take responsibility and deliver him safe and sound! Alright, that's all for now, bye~"
She deftly ended the call.
Though Shinji didn't turn to look, the faint female voice from the communicator and the subtle familiarity and ease in Misato's tone instantly revealed the other party's identity—Dr. Ritsuko Akagi.
NERV's chief scientist, that coldly elegant, rational-to-the-point-of-ruthless genius, and also... Gendo Ikari's lover.
In a way, this Dr. Akagi could probably be considered his "stepmother," couldn't she?
A faint, almost imperceptible smirk tinged with icy mockery curled at the corner of Shinji's lips.
Unfortunately, just like Naoko Akagi in his memories—who had also been used by Gendo until her death, ultimately leading to her despairing suicide—this Dr. Akagi was merely another pawn on that man's chessboard, destined to be sacrificed.
Another pitiable and pathetic woman.
Misato set down the communicator, and the cheerful smile she had maintained instantly collapsed, replaced by an expression on the verge of tears.
She patted the steering wheel in distress, eliciting a louder clattering sound, inwardly wailing: "Ugh... just my luck! The car was just overhauled not long ago! And now it's in this state..."
She could already envision the astronomical repair bill.
"Still 33 installments left on the loan! And this repair cost... Oh god, my wallet..."
She glanced down at the dark, body-hugging skirt she had carefully selected to best accentuate her curvaceous figure—now crumpled, stained with dust, grease, and sweat, utterly ruined—and her heart ached with a sharp twinge:
"And... my best outfit! Ruined just like that! I dressed up specially to pick you up, you know, Shinji-kun!"
She screamed silently in her heart, casting a resentful gaze toward the boy who remained lost in thought, staring at the sea.
Shinji didn't ask Misato about the legality of "commandeering" the battery, as he had in the original storyline.
His mind was nowhere near such trivial matters.
As a 14-year-old Shinji Ikari, a faint trace of anticipation for the man called "father" still lingered deep within this body—an almost instinctive longing for recognition and attention, a childlike yearning that now stirred uncontrollably as he was about to meet Gendo Ikari again.
Yet, as a mature soul—Aeon—his heart was filled with intense resistance and profound disgust toward Gendo Ikari.
What concerned him more was whether he still had a chance to return to that "real world" filled with love, family, and an ordinary future.
He felt no attachment to this distorted world overrun with Angels, Evangelions, and the Human Instrumentality Project.
Even sitting beside a captivating beauty like Misato, even knowing he would live with her in the future and form various complex, even ambiguous bonds... none of this could sway his current desire to escape.
Misato, who was driving, keenly sensed the almost suffocatingly heavy atmosphere emanating from the passenger seat.
Since getting in the car, the boy had been as silent as a stone, his hollow eyes fixed on the window as if separated from the entire world by a thick pane of glass.
This sense of alienation and disconnection made her inexplicably uncomfortable, even... a little heartbroken.
"Hey, Shinji-kun," Misato attempted to break the silence with a cheerful tone.
"You should smile more! With such a cute face, why always keep it so stern? You're like a little old man." She tried to lighten the mood with teasing.
Shinji finally reacted upon hearing this. He turned his head expressionlessly, giving Misato—who was forcing a bright smile—a look that clearly said "you're so boring," before silently turning back to the window.
"Uh..."
Misato was momentarily speechless at this silent rejection, but she wasn't one to give up easily.
Her eyes darted as she switched tactics, adopting a coquettish, playful tone: "Oh, are you mad? Sorry, sorry~"
She paused, deliberately blinking, "After all, you're a boy—you should be more generous! You wouldn't hold a grudge against a little girl, right?"
"Little girl?!"
Shinji was instantly struck dumb by this self-description! He whipped his head around, eyes wide with disbelief, staring at Misato as if she were an alien.
A strong chill ran down his spine—this woman was clearly 29 years old! Twenty-nine! Light-years away from being a "little girl"!
Misato was thoroughly provoked by his undisguised, utterly shocked expression!
"Hey! What's with that look?!" Misato's eyebrows shot up, her voice suddenly sharp.
"Are you saying I'm old?! Huh?!" Rage instantly clouded her judgment, and her hands unconsciously jerked the steering wheel hard!
"Screeeech—!!"
The Renault sports car, already unsteady, instantly swerved into a zigzag pattern under Misato's furious steering! The vehicle lurched violently from side to side, tilting and groaning under the strain, while wind roared terrifyingly through the broken window!
"Ahhh—!!!"
Shinji was caught completely off guard. His body was violently thrown against the car door by the tremendous centrifugal force, only to be yanked back into his seat by the seatbelt, his internal organs feeling as though they were being rearranged! He let out a series of terrified screams, his hands gripping the overhead handle so tightly his knuckles turned white, his face pale as a sheet.
"Miss Katsuragi, watch the road! Watch the road!!" Shinji shouted desperately amid the violent jolts.
After a heart-stopping series of violent shakes, Misato finally managed to stabilize the car with her exceptional driving skills. The vehicle returned to the center of the road, but the engine's labored breathing grew louder, as if it might give out at any moment.
A brief, deathly silence fell inside the car, broken only by the sound of their heavy panting.
It took a while before Shinji slowly released his grip on the handle, his fingers pale from the strain.
He leaned back in his seat, his chest still heaving violently, his face ashen.
After a few seconds of silence, he spoke in an unusually calm, even slightly weary voice, softly saying:
"Thank you, Miss Katsuragi."
"...Huh?"
Misato, who had been frustrated by her own impulsiveness, was taken aback by this sudden expression of gratitude.
Shinji didn't look at her, his gaze still fixed on the winding road ahead. His voice was soft, yet clear: "I... feel much better now."
He understood that Misato's earlier antics, even her willingness to "make fun of herself" to shock him, were all meant to dispel the heavy gloom and tension in his heart.
He had felt this clumsy yet sincere kindness.
Misato's hands on the steering wheel paused slightly. She turned her head, looking at the boy's pale but calm profile, at the understanding clarity in his eyes, and felt as though something had gently struck her heart.
She hadn't expected this seemingly silent and awkward boy to be so sensitive and perceptive, to understand her intentions so quickly.
A warmth quietly replaced her earlier frustration and anger. Unconsciously, a gentle curve lifted the corners of her mouth, and she softly replied, "Mhm."
The awkward and tense atmosphere in the car seemed to melt away considerably in this exchange of gratitude and understanding smiles.