u/Anonymous_32219

I'm newer to Evangelion in general, but this early part from Ritsuko I always took issue with. Felt the need to comment on it while writing my ongoing fic, Gods and Angels. Wanted to see if there's a general opinion on the subject matter.

[~]

A tangled heap of purple and red metal that was Unit-01 and Unit-02 hung on the command center's monitor, adding to the atmosphere of humiliation permeating the room. Misato groaned, one hand shielding her eyes from the scene. "This again?"

Ritsuko pinched the bridge of her nose, the headache that had been brewing all day reaching a peak. The assault had failed, the Angel had escaped, and now the pilots were bickering like children in front of all the techs. The cherry on top of the day's disaster pie. "Embarrassing."

"I take it this happens a lot," Ren said, his voice as dry as death.

"It has," Misato muttered. "More than I care to admit."

"You'd think they'd learn to deal with each other by now."

Misato dragged her hand down her face. "To be fair, it's been better these days. A lot better than it used to be. But…"

"They have issues."

"To put it mildly," Ritsuko sighed. "Shinji withdraws, Asuka lashes out. It's the hedgehog's dilemma. One wants to get close to another, but the closer they come, the more they injure each other with their quills." Her voice lowered, turning more sympathetic. "They push others away because they think, if they open up, they'll just risk being hurt."

An uncomfortable silence lingered as Ritsuko's mind churned. The Angel had dropped completely off the sensors. There was no telling when or where it would appear again. Unit-00 was undamaged, and the other two would have to be assessed, but would they have enough time?

"That's actually a misnomer."

Ren's statement caught Ritsuko off guard. She turned to him with a puzzled look. "Excuse me?"

"In nature, hedgehogs are able to relax their quills so they lie flat. It keeps them from hurting each other while mating or sleeping together. So, it's not that they can't get close. Some simply choose not to."

Ritsuko blinked, her mouth briefly opening a few centimeters. It was an unexpected rebuttal, one that contradicted her assertion, and was technically correct. She looked away from Ren back to the screen, sweeping her face clear. "An interesting point."

"I'm sure the doctor who coined the phrase knew plenty about psychology, but he might have missed a few nuances in the animal world. Even experts in their field get things a little skewed from time to time. Understanding is an ever-evolving thing."

Ritsuko's lips compressed. The newcomer's growing pattern of challenging her rankled, but she couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for his intellect. "That's fair, I suppose."

"They're far from perfect," Misato acknowledged, trying to keep the hope alive, "and they've had their missteps, but they're still the best we've got."

Ritsuko silently watched the screen as Units-01 and 02 attempted to untangle themselves. She couldn't disagree. Even with all their interpersonal issues and emotional baggage, the young pilots had proven to be their best defense against the Angels. But with the ever-growing threat of the Angel's more frequent attacks weighing on all their shoulders, she had to wonder if their best would be enough.

For the reader's enjoyment, a small Asu/Shin section of my newest fic, Gods and Angels. Curious to see how well received my work with the characters are in this AU timeline.

[~]

Asuka had stopped counting the hours. The room had been dark long enough that morning and evening had begun to feel like the same gray smear behind the curtains. She stayed in bed, still wearing the same pajamas she had for three nights. The sheets were twisted around her legs. Her hair, usually brushed and clipped, spilled messily over the pillow. On the bedside table sat two unopened ration packs and a bowl of instant noodles that had gone cold yesterday. Or the day before. She had eaten some of it. Maybe.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. She felt numb, her mind tumbling down a bottomless pit of despair and self-loathing. Showering didn’t interest her. Communication repulsed her. Sleep was rare, and when it came, it was a nightmarish jumble filled with vivid, suffocating images of that reptilian demon. The monster that had left her pride lying in broken shards around her; that defied explanation and logic; that obliterated her sense of self as easily as it had the Angel. Asuka squeezed her eyes shut, but the agony only intensified. All her life, she had trained for this. She had been chosen. She had been the best. She wasn’t some backup pilot dragged in because his father needed a convenient sacrifice. She wasn’t some doll who obeyed orders because no one had bothered teaching her how to want things. She was Asuka Langley Soryu. And it had put her down like she was a bug. Its booming howl still echoed in her ears, reminding her of her weakness.

Even more humiliating than the defeat had been the aftermath. The beast hadn’t bothered to finish her off. It simply left her and Unit-02 crumpled in the dirt without so much as a backward glance. She hadn’t even been important enough to end. Maybe if she just stayed put long enough, she’d rot away and simply cease to exist. Anything to escape this reality of being a failure. Worthless. Nothing.

Lost in the miasma of her twisting thoughts, she didn’t notice when the front door was unlocked or the footsteps that followed. Only when the bedroom door slid open did she register the sound. Then came a familiar, hesitant voice. “Asuka?”

Asuka’s entire body cringed. Shinji. Of all the people she didn’t want to see right now, he was at the very top of the list. She drew the sheets over her head, hiding from his gaze.

Footsteps carefully traveled the length of her room to her bedside. “Come on, Asuka,” Shinji said softly. “You can’t stay in here forever. Everyone’s been wondering where you’ve been.”

Asuka’s emotions nearly strangled her; humiliation, revulsion, and shame, so tangled she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. She wanted to scream at him to leave her alone. To tell him that she didn’t care about anyone else. That they didn’t understand her. That he didn’t understand her. But all that came out was a pitiful, “Go away…”

There was no answer. She heard him standing there. Shinji Ikari, probably looking around with those stupid wide eyes, taking in the disaster of her room and feeling sorry for her. The thought made her stomach twist. He was seeing it. He was seeing her. Still no answer. Only quiet movement. A footstep. Then another. Asuka clenched her jaw beneath the covers. Fine. Let him stand there. Let him shuffle around awkwardly until he realized he had no idea what to say. That was what Shinji did. He hovered. He apologized. He folded in on himself at the first sign of resistance. Four years, and somehow, that part of him had barely changed. Sure, sometimes he could look people in the eye for more than three seconds. He could even speak with that irritating thread of strength when things got bad. But underneath? Still Shinji. Still quiet. Still hesitant. Still acting like the world might shatter if he wanted something too loudly. How did someone like that survive as an Eva pilot? How did someone like him keep getting back into the cage? She had trained until her hands blistered. Studied until her eyes burned. Fought to become exceptional because anything less meant nothingness. Shinji just stumbled forward, frightened and apologetic, and somehow managed to keep standing. It was infuriating. It was unfair. It was—

“Forgive me, Asuka.”

And like clockwork, there it was. Another apology. Who knows for what. As she was summoning the energy for another barb, the sheet vanished. Cold air hit her face. Two arms slid behind her back and beneath her knees. Her body left the mattress as if she weighed nothing, a startled yelp escaping her. “W-what the—?!”

She was against him. Held in both arms, her head near his shoulder, her knees hooked over his forearm like some helpless princess in one of those stupid picture books Hikari used to like. “Let’s go,” Shinji said, his reddening cheeks belying the forced calm as he turned for the door.

Taken completely off guard by the action’s suddenness, words failed Asuka for a few steps. Fury came quickly. “You creep! What the hell are you doing?! Put me down!” She squirmed, hit, kicked, and clawed. But for all her flailing, Shinji held tight. Trying to grab onto the door frame didn’t work either. Her strength was all but gone.

He carried her out of the bedroom. The main room was worse. Asuka had avoided looking at it for days. Now she saw it all at once. Half-finished water bottles she couldn’t remember drinking stood on the table. More clutter filled the counter. A chair in the dining room and a potted plant by the balcony door had fallen on their sides. The plant had spilled unswept dirt onto the wooden floor. The curtains were half-drawn. A thin line of daylight cut across the dust, making everything look even more pathetic. Her pathetic room. Her pathetic mess. Her pathetic self. And Shinji was seeing all of it.

Heat burned in Asuka’s gut, hotter than anger and sharper than shame. She wanted the floor to open. She wanted Unit-02’s armor around her again. She wanted to be screaming inside an entry plug where no one could touch her, where no one could see what happened after the screaming stopped. “Let me go!” Her voice cracked. She hated that too. Her struggling and kicking redoubled. Her grunts and squeals turned into more guttural, almost animalistic sounds. She reared back a clenched fist with every ounce of strength she had left, ready to slam it into his shoulder, his jaw, anywhere she could reach. “Put me down right now, you idiot! I don’t wanna go anywhere with you! Why are you doing this to me?!”

“Because we care about you.”

Asuka froze. It felt like someone had hit pause. Of all the things she’d expected him to say, that was the last. It took a moment for her brain to work again. Her own voice surprised her, filled with vulnerability and a shadow of fear. “What… what did you say?”

Shinji kept his eyes straight ahead. His boyish face flushed brighter as they neared the front door. “This is all because we care about you.”

The second time was worse. The first could have been a mistake. A reflex. Some stupid thing Misato told him to say. But the second was steadier. Left no room for her to pretend she’d misheard. Not because you’re needed. Not because NERV ordered it. Not because you’re the Second Child and your sync ratio has to recover. Because we care. Slowly, she lowered her fist, curling her fingers together in her lap. She looked away from him, her cheeks and ears burning so fiercely she was sure he could feel the heat. “S-stupid Shinji,” she muttered, the words weak and flustered.

He carried her to the door, pausing only long enough to nudge a pair of sandals into place with his foot. Asuka gave one last half-hearted squirm when he shifted her to open it, but even she knew it was for show. Her fingers remained tangled together. Her gaze stayed fixed stubbornly anywhere but his face. Exiting and letting the door swing closed behind him, Shinji brought her outside and towards the complex’s stairwell.

When Shinji carried her down the stairs and out onto the street, Asuka buried her face partly against his shoulder. It wasn’t because she wanted to, and absolutely not because it was comfortable. Only because if anyone saw her like this, she would have to leave Japan forever. After three days spent inside in the dark, the light was dazzling, but she hardly focused on it. Her mind was a whirlwind. Because we care about you. The words didn’t make sense. Instinct urged her to keep cursing the boy out, to keep pushing him away. Her body wouldn’t listen. He’d sounded so… sincere. It hit something inside her and kept going, falling through places she had boarded up years ago. She’d been mortified to face him and the others. Been so certain they’d see her as the failure she saw herself as. The idea of other people—even Shinji, idiot that he was—being concerned about her, caring about her, after everything, hadn’t even crossed her mind.

Somewhere very, very deep down, a part of her wanted him to worry. To care. Even just a little.