(For lack of decent pics of Yui or Misato on my hard drive, this thing from days long past. And yes, it's SUPPOSED to match End of Evangelion in levels of WTF.)
Episode 20x
Weaving of a Story 3: Orange on his Lips/Prolonging Stage
Bubbles jetted out from his mouth as Shinji heaved in the LCL, blurring his vision. Silently crying out into the night he charged at Zeruel, savoring the wiry grinding of their jaws against its fresh body. Something was nagging at the back of his mind, pushing him to eat it all—
You can't leave the table until it's all gone, Shinji-kun.
— Shinji embraced it, loved it, for it was only in the solitary gnashing of teeth against the bloody helical organ that he could find pleasure now, only in the flesh that he knew solace. The LCL was thicker than normal, ruddy and offending to his nose, and as he sunk more and more into the identity of her, Shinji could barely glimpse his body bubbling away into the orange.
Yui continued her work with what smile she could manage, prying away at the violet mask to better free up her jaw. There would be no more mishaps like Shamshel; howling gleefully she gnawed away at the skeleton. If even a scrap remained, it would all be over for her Instrumentality.
But then, Yui was used to such delicate procedures.
Shinji decided quickly that it was not a lonely silence in that void. He could hardly call it silent to begin with; though his voice did not carry through the fluid and the darkness seemed to wall up on him all sides, always an inch or two from his skin despite his constant drifting and tumbling, throughout it all was a gentle thrum like the sounding of a cello. No, two cellos; pulled together in precious harmony, defying the closed void with their music.
"Mother!" Shinji cried out in a stroke of familiarity, and then, lips quivering tearfully, "Mommy! Mommy, help me! Help! I'm scared!"
Her voice came hushing through the tight, constricting shadow, soft and large all at once.
"Don't cry, Shinji-kun. Hush now; you're a big kid, aren't you?"
"No!" But it's not Shinji that's answering mother, but what Shinji sees of Shinji. Am I Shinji, the Shinji seen by Shinji, or am I Shinji, the Shinji who is Shinji?
"Then you've no reason to cry, eh? Calm down...stop thinking so hard."
Shinji thrashed about in the warmth, screaming with all his might as he kicked against the heavy walls; but his lungs gave out quickly, and the voice that spoke to his mother did not back his screams.
"Oh, come now. That's not what this is about, Shinji-kun. You can't just yell and expect to get what you want. What I have to give is what you will receive; you cannot ask for more. There is no more."
"I don't want what you have!"
The cello missed a note, and for a moment the walls loosened.
"Then what do you want, Shinji-kun?"
"I want my mother! I want Ikari Yui-mama!"
All at once the darkness receded, giving way to a field of dancing shrubbery, petals coerced about by the wind. Fingers stroked his face, and Shinji began to weep as Yui took him up to her shoulder, patting his back encouragingly.
"That's all you need, Shinji-kun. Focus on me; want me. Because other people...don't want that for you."
"Why?! Why can't we get along?!"
"As long as you think like that, Shinji, our world will continue to change. Don't stop thinking that; don't stop wanting me." Yui felt bitter as she concealed brief thoughts from him; Even if I never come to you, don't stop wanting me. If you stop wanting me, SEELE wins. If you want me, I win. It's that simple. This wasn't supposed to be a place to conceal things. Hiding things from Shinji now could upset the whole scenario.
At her nudging Shinji looked beyond her; past their little hill and to the riverbank below, where a stroller and a woman were positioned to stare out at the glimmering water.
There was something different with it. He knew the scene, and it was not anything he found faulting it, but it was merely something...pleasantly different.
Something squealed in the stroller, and as they neared he quickly saw himself.
"Is this what you see, when you look in the mirror?" Yui inquired quietly, as the other Yui lifted the toddler. It's difficult, isn't it Shinji-kun? Knowing what you want, and seeing it dangled before your eyes. I'm sorry.
"Is that what you see, when you look in the mirror?" Shinji spat, pointing; but following his finger, Yui soon realized he was indicating the lake, and the mask that glowered up at them from beneath it, Evangelion Unit-1's eyes alit.
Yui composed herself carefully. Shinji had not changed in ten years, he'd merely been hurt. He stilled behaved like a three-year-old.
"You left me." Shinji couldn't hide his feelings and pretend to be angry, not here; he couldn't clench his fists and scream at her. No matter how he resisted it, the words came out sobbing, "All alone with father!"
Finally, the picture fixed itself. Ikari Gendou stood there as well, overshadowing Yui. What might have been a smile was on his face, but Shinji had been too young and too impressioned to tell. Yui's memories filled the gaps for him.
"Do you hate your father?"
"Yes! He hurts me!"
"Is your father a monster?"
"Yes!"
"You're father isn't the Eva though, Shinji-kun."
At this the boy quieted, staring at his shoes as he was accustomed to; and inevitably, with no concept of time to fill in the silent moments, he turned up to Yui, pleading for answers.
"Does your father beat you?"
"No..."
"Does your father starve you?"
"No..."
"Did your father ever once abandon you?"
"...He left me with—"
"Did your father abandon you alone?"
"I..." It was a side notion, a sick little argument Yui felt compelled to pursue; it held no real weight, but she felt compelled to defend Gendou. Her husband had never truly struck out to hurt Shinji, not yet. He had always taken responsibility for the boy, even if he was a terrible father.
"Do you want to surpass your father?" Yui quietly dismantled the patchwork image of Gendou, letting it fade as the other Yui raised up the toddler and brought him close, sniffing at him suspiciously. It brought a smile to her face, recalling how late Shinji had potty-trained, unwilling to leave his mother's attentiveness behind. It would have been annoying if she hadn't known her goal in the Contact Experiment in the days to come, hadn't cherished every stupid habit of the boy and her family.
Just as quickly it brought a frown, as Shinji recalled how many years after losing his mother he'd spent crying, waking up in soaked bed covers. How many mattresses had been set out to dry by his aunt. How many days he'd climbed out the window of his bedroom and raced to the ocean side, lying flat against the sand and praying the waves would consume him.
One day he'd decided to stop crying. Not out of bravery, but because he decided everything was his father's fault. He wanted to see Gendou hurt, and he couldn't very well do that if he were crying.
"Yes." Shinji finally answered.
"Why?"
"I want you."
Sad. "And your father is competition?"
"Yes. He murdered you."
"That's not true, Shinji. I am alive. I chose this path."
"He didn't tell me that. He didn't try to love me."
"You didn't, either."
"STOP IT!!" And suddenly Shinji was the toddler in Yui's arms, kicking and bawling and pleading to be held, "I DON'T CARE ABOUT ANY OF THAT! I WANT YOU!!"
Childish, exclamation points, caps lock and all. Yui pulled him closer, nuzzling the boy's cheek. I've no right to blame him for what I've done, though. I did this to Shinji. I have to fix it.
"Don't talk about my father, please! Please don't talk about my father! Please, mama!"
"Don't talk like that, Shinji-kun. You don't need to ask."
"Don't talk about my father!"
"That's better." Yes, that's the Shinji I know. He doesn't ask, he demands; that's the way I left him, that's the way he's been.
Yui rocked him tenderly, briefly losing herself to the nostalgia as she cradled Shinji's fragile mind. Under normal circumstances she would shudder and berate herself for such slip-ups, but Shinji was a safe enough party, so entwined with her arms, that there was no inherent danger in showing her motherly side to him. On the contrary, making mistakes was a necessary step to this plan.
"Mama," Shinji whimpered softly, smile quivering between his cheeks as he burrowed in against her sweater.
Yui complied to his silent demands, clothes furrowing as she rolled the sweater and undershirt up to her neck and released the bra. It was that beautiful, jarring dissonance between reality and her world inside the Eva's core. Here they were free of prying eyes, a small select group of people privy only to their own, private little world without regular laws of conduct and behavior. It was the essence of her plan, and the logic behind having thirteen Evangelions constructed.
At first he was awkward, unsure of how to approach it, but it took only the brushing of lips against a teat before Shinji's base, animal urge to suckle took hold. In her more formative years, Yui had marveled at the infant animal's inherent understanding of how to feed; nursing Shinji at her breast now, she recalled a far greater intrigue at the developed animal's ability to regress. It was, in the end, a gigantic bicycle joke waiting to happen.
"This is all you want," Yui mouthed softly to the little boy, "To demand things and be given them by another. To live in such a conditional world, your every need taken care of?"
"Yes!" Tiny Shinji agreed gleefully, "Don't you like taking care of me?"
"I do." Yui nodded, genuinely pleased with her son, "But do you think everyone can live this way? One person enjoying being given things, and another enjoying giving them?"
"I don't see why not."
Yes, Shin-chan, that's it. That is the basis of my scenario. That is why there will be eleven Evangelions; SEELE set me back with 03 and 04, but as long as there are two, we can make Instrumentality work.
[...]
It was days before she could finally coax Shinji from her breast, could catch him between a cycle of feeding and sleeping, a period when he had no needs, that she could pose before him once more the existence of his father.
Shinji's mind was suddenly diving into hers, accusing her, frantic and panicking, and in the moment Yui let slip that thought of Gendou, the memory played out.
"No, not here...dear, you'll wake Shin-chan—"
"It's all right. He won't wake."
"No, stop! Not in this room— not here—"
"You think I can help being an animal?"
"Ahh! Ohh, you—"
He had heard enough. In that instance, he was Shinji the toddler, his eyes wide open; in the next, he was Shinji the teenager, the only 'man' of Shinji he knew, nude for battle.
"But you were awake." Yui couldn't gain control of her emotions in time, tears blubbering from her eyes. She felt like a schoolgirl, weak and helpless before that memory of Gendou, and at the same time she knew the offense and the fear of a mother, of seeing a young Shinji's fingers linger in his mouth as the sounds of his parents lovemaking fought to waken him. She knew more than the fear; Yui still felt strong the guilt of seeing Shinji's eyes open in that fatal moment.
If there were one memory she wanted to erase, it was that one.
It would be difficult now, reconciling Shinji. Before she was the symbol of utmost purity to him, an untainted goal to strive for; so Yui dried her tears and stood tall, imposing even without her clothes, pulling Shinji close. He saw her ardent pride and flinched, and in response Yui began to cave, letting her figure drop an inch or two to open her mouth, waiting for him, baiting him. She had to be overtaken by the child now.
He didn't take to her lips, not the way she'd hoped. If Shinji dominated her, made her a sexual conquest, that was all right; he could leave his father's shadow behind.
Instead, they began to drift through the unsteady blue of the sky as fourteen-year-old Ikari Shinji resumed suckling, this time tainted by the sinful blush of adult comprehension. Yui obliged him, unwilling to jeopardize her plans through resistance.
Shinji, however, could not account for the kinds of variables Yui had spent eleven years predicting and adapting her plans for. He could not account for the streaming white that now billowed into the liquid void, flushing a brilliant scarlet as Ikari Shinji's body gave the inevitable reaction, longing for the body that fed him, inebriated by his mother's milk.
"I'm sorry!" He pleaded with her earnestly, not wanting to lose Yui's approval, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry, mama!"
"It's all right." Yui stroked his hair gently, urging the boy back to her breast, "I understand. You're fourteen, Shinji-kun. Your body does this."
Shinji quietly wished that all the world were so understanding. Yui didn't say nonsense like 'you can't help it'. Yui acknowledged how he felt, accepted he felt it, but did not feel obligated to reciprocate; Yui accommodated his feelings without trying to weasel in her own precedents.
"Shinji, what if you walked into Misato's apartment, and she was masturbating? What would you do?"
"I would run away."
"Why?"
"She scares me."
"She does?"
"Sex does. Misato is sexual. Misato has sex with men."
"And that's wrong?"
"I don't care if it's wrong. It's scary."
"If she touches you?"
"Stop it stop it stop it!!" He couldn't maintain a form now; the toddler wanted to run into the other room, but was met with the memories of Gendou. The man was met with Misato, who threatened him with her caresses. It was all strange. It was all terrifying. He wanted to cry and be held.
Yui knew a small sanctuary in making Shinji unstable. Quietly she shifted the Eva's limbs, ever so slightly to prepare it for events to come, and quietly she began to assimilate Shinji once more.
SEELE wants a womb. But Shinji only wants others to help him. This will work, no matter what they try next.
[...]
Misato was sobbing. Sobbing and retching against the LCL-tainted plug suit, the scent of blood strong in her nostrils as she buried her face in it. A second splash drew her eyes away, as Shinji emerged nude from the Evangelion's stressed core.
"SHINJI-KUN!"
His skin was clammy and dyed a lustrous orange from the exposure to LCL, and he was coughing and sputtering the viscous fluid all about. Coated in a thick, slimy mixture of raunchy fluid and with a face purpled by a lack of oxygen, he was anything but worthy of embrace.
Misato gathered him into her arms heedless of all the muck, voice cracking in a wail as she squeezed the boy, somewhere between relief and ecstasy as he took a breath.
Above her, Ritsuko could have sworn Unit-1 was smug.
Misato did not join Shinji upon bringing him home from NERV's hospital ward. No, she deposited him upon his bed ceremoniously, and then immediately returned to her Renault, Ritsuko waiting in the passenger's side.
“The repair work for Unit 1 will be done soon.” Ritsuko affirmed, unable to think of anything else to discuss. Slowly, they had begun to lose their ties as friends— she couldn't recall the last time she'd met Misato for something not concerning Eva.
“Humans use the power of good as a tool, after all.”
“I don't know. The Committee has proposed restraining it.” After all, it's all the Committee can do at this point. SEELE's intervening too greatly for them to try much of anything.
“Artificial human Evangelion...the unknown black box seems too large for a thing humans created, don't you think?” Misato mused bitterly, though her attentions were hardly on the conversation at hand, “Well, Shinji was saved in the end, so it's okay.”
“I didn't do it. It was probably because of you.” Ritsuko said it defensively, quietly wishing to alienate herself from the credit, “How about a drink? It's been a while, hasn't it?”
Misato started, for a brief instant losing her grip on the wheel— and by miracle, recovering fast enough she didn't think Ritsuko would notice.
“Sorry, but I have something to do.”
“I see.” Ritsuko leaned on the window disgustedly, A man, perhaps?
She didn't have to endure her disgust long before Misato located the apartment.
“Bye.”
Marooned in an instant, like a sailor betrayed by her shipmates.
“As soon as Shinji-kun's safety is confirmed, she's off to meet a guy.” Ritsuko muttered, personally kicking herself even as the words tumbled from her mouth. Silently, she wheeled to face the apartment of Ikari Gendou.
“I shouldn't talk.”
Shinji's skin remained painted for some days after being released from the Eva's womb. The LCL's mark was slow to fade— it didn't wash off in the shower, but as Ritsuko explained it, it would gradually be absorbed through his skin and into the bloodstream.
Misato couldn't help but wonder if it was a mistake to say that on Ritsuko's part, divulging the chemical's properties so clearly. After all, what could be absorbed by the bloodstream was only...
But, Shinji didn't seem to pick up on. As ever, he meekly went about his business, though orange throughout it. It was decided against having him attend school, instead keeping him close to NERV in the event of another attack, and to give him time to recuperate from the experience.
Ikari Shinji did not speak to the others on the quiet ache he felt, the subtle lust that pursued him after leaving the Eva, new yet familiar urges tugging at him insistently every second and into his dreams. Like so many other pains he felt, Shinji did not communicate this— how would he? He was a child, unable to explain these sensations, and they were adults who had solved the world's mysteries long ago.
One week after returning from the Eva, Ikari Yui's words arrived to back his ache; “Shinji, what if you walked into Misato's apartment,”
Softly he set his feet to the carpet, his SDAT falling in a clump of dead plastic as Shinji slid the door aside. Stepping out into the living room and around the bend to the water closet, Shinji stared into the eyes of his reflection. By now most of the LCL had regressed into his veins, and yet the orange on his lips remained stark and brilliant in the light. It occurred to him now where the ache was sparking from, the part of him that craved stimulation.
Walking back out into the living room he could see Misato lying across the couch, distracted by the flicker of the television. Asuka was still out with her...friends? It was difficult, picturing someone like Asuka having friends.
Shinji took a step closer, and then another, counting as he felt the unstable crashing of his feet against the cold wooden floor. A step forward into terror, pushed on only by that singular thought 'Walk'.
Another step, and he crudely fell forward, head colliding against the floorboards. Shinji reached up to grasp at this new pain, but after a moment the initial blaze subsided and the ache left in its place was nothing to that on his lips. Nothing to the sensation that had him begging the question; Why didn't Misato-san help me when I fell?
Yet rising up and at the sight of her and what she was doing, Ikari Shinji wished he hadn't asked that question, wished that his mother's words weren't echoing now another question to answer his own.
“And she was masturbating?”
The look in her eyes was dead, unrecognizing. For all Shinji could tell, Misato didn't know he was there.
“Did something happen?” He finally broke the silence, unable to continue staring any longer.
“No, but I'm worried something wi—“ Misato jumped a little on the couch, finally comprehending Shinji. It took a lot to make Misato embarrassed; it took more to make her blush.
“Sh-shinji-kun...what are you...I...” Misato couldn't put it to words. She felt stupid, trying to live like she had before either of the children had arrived in her home. Trying to think of Kaji, and not be worried.
She was silenced by Shinji's sigh, abrupt and afraid, all the anxiousness that was building in his chest rushing up to pierce his tear ducts. He took a few more wobbly steps forward, before tripping once more and collapsing into Misato's shoulder.
“Are...you all right?” Misato spoke softly, putting an arm around Shinji's shoulder and making room for him on the couch, “Did something happen?”
Shinji shook his head— or what she thought was a shake of the head, but soon realized to be him burying his face in her shoulder. Heaving sobs tormented Misato's ears, warm tears amassing on her skin.
It was painful at first, because she didn't know what to do. Kaji had never, not once, cried in front of her; none of the men she'd been with had. As far as her memories dared stretch, Misato could not once recall anyone coming before her with tears or an honest need for care.
Then the pain and the fear subsided, as Misato settled into her natural recourse. She curled closer to Shinji, nuzzling him against her and pushing his arms up to level with her neck.
“Shinji-kun,” Though having a general plan, Misato had yet to apply it to a fourteen-year-old. She bent her head down, uttering soft, kind words into Shinji's ear, “Do whatever.”
He seemed to nod, or else he was caving his head against her neckline, but regardless his response Shinji's fingers wrapped around the straps of her shirt, tugging on the pink garment. Misato complied, quietly shrugging away the article, only to remember that she wasn't wearing a bra.
Is this what mother meant, Shinji considered quietly as he stared at Misato; the woman returned his gaze, curious as to just what her spontaneous partner's goals were, A mother is something...that I always wanted to have, and can never attain, because of father. But could Misato...?
'Attain' was a vague enough word that he might have considered that evening a success.
Shinji suddenly made to toss away his shirt, feverishly tugging at his belt buckle— not to satisfy the other lusty thoughts, but because he wanted to feel her. To sense and touch Misato's skin, smooth and supple to his prodding.
Some part of Misato had her smiling, and at once she questioned why she was so happy to bed a child. Yet, as with so many of her actions before then, Misato submerged the thought in face of her animal sating.
“Take your clothes off.” Shinji demanded. It was astounding, how gentle he could be while ordering her around.
“All of them?” Misato grinned playfully, shooing away her shorts, “Maybe we should take this into my room before—“
Shinji sprung forward, his fingers pressing against Misato's bare shoulders as the boy's tongue brushed against her breast. He perused the area with wide eyes until finally settling to wrap the orange of his lips against her teat, sucking on the hefty mound.
“A-aah...” Misato flinched for one of the few times in her extended sex life. Maybe it seemed odder still that she hadn't done this with any man before, but she certainly wasn't expending Shinji to bring about such unfamiliar sensations.
He seemed wholly consumed by the perverse interest in her breasts, groping the pallid tissue with a unique childishness, but Misato didn't blame Shinji. It was his first time seeing anything of a woman, and a year or two ago he might have still thought girls to have cooties. So, she let him have his fun— not for any lack of it on her part, still processing the new feelings his mouth was granting her.
Shinji leaned forward, trembling as he moved from one nipple to the other, almost confused by his choice in targets as his tongue relentlessly wormed about Misato's chest, finally latching his mouth onto his old stay at her left to suckle the teat. His thighs moved forward, easing, daring himself in between her legs— and briefly, Shinji broke away from her breast to hastily mutter,
“I'm scared.”
“It's okay.” Misato's fingers caressed his cheek comfortingly, “I'll make it easy on you. I'll do all the hard work, okay?”
It was some strange part of her that compelled Misato to make it easy on him, to ensure it was enjoyable for Shinji.
I took him in as my own. I want his first time to be enjoyable.
It was a discomforting explanation, but it was all she had as Misato inched Shinji in, reaching down to grope at his ass.
It's like that night, Shinji mused as he let Misato lead him in, focusing his attentions orally, That I faced off against the Fourteenth Angel and—
Moron! He berated as he caught himself, Don't bite her!
And as Ikari Shinij settled into the pattern of breathing through his nose as he tended adoringly to Misato's breast, something emerged from the nipple to tickle his tongue and then pour down his throat in a savory mixture, finally putting to rest the ache that had followed him out of the Eva, finally sating that lingering thirst.
“Sh-shinji, maybe we should...” Misato bit her own tongue. She didn't want to deny the pleasure it was giving either of them— but expressing milk was hardly a familiar...
Well, she'd probably done kinkier things. It couldn't hurt to let him go on.
He was ravenous now, his lips tugging endlessly at her breast in pursuit of the warm, vaguely liquor-tasting substance. Shinji was honestly paying no heed to what Misato was doing further down, moving as she moved, trying to copy her sweaty dance as he maintained the suckling position.
Briefly their cheeks met and she nudged him away long enough to press her lips to his, Shinji letting out a brief squeak in the moment her tongue ran the distance of his lips. Misato's hair tickled his neck, little beads of sweat caught on the purple strands.
And then those brief instants passed, and he was once more bringing satisfaction to the longing held in his lips those long seven days, the world growing warmer with every drop that passed into his mouth.
Shinji wasn't entirely sure when he'd ejaculated, only that over time he lost his vigor and the satisfaction had begun to sink in. Within a short minute, they were lying there entangled on the couch, breathing heavily.
“Not so bad, kiddo.” Misato smiled, tousling his hair.
“Thank you.”
“It's not a favor, you're my friend. But...”
“Yeah...?”
“If you want to do this more, Shinji-kun,” There was always a certain element of business to it for Misato, but none more so than now. It was strange, how she could flip from sensual to practical in a mere strumming of the heartstrings, “We have to have a schedule.”
“Eh...?”
“If this is going to be a regular thing, it's going to be daily. Are we going to do it at eight like tonight? Later? Earlier?”
“Wh-why's that so important...?”
Misato frowned, but then quietly realized what she'd put into the boy's system just then.
“Shinji-kun, if I'm feeding you, then I'm also lactating. We need to do this at a specific time each day— it gets sore.” She gestured to her breasts, “And that means when that time rolls around, you start, right away, even if we have to find a bathroom stall to do it in. How about eight for now?”
“Sure, sure, Misato-san...”
“I'll cut down on the drinking a bit,” Misato sighed, knowing it was partially her fault, “So you don't get like this.”
“Sure, sure, Misato-san...”
What goes into me, goes into him. That means only half the alcohol intake. Goddamnit, I have to balance being a responsible parent and a responsible pedophile!
Weaving of a Story 3: Orange on his Lips/Prolonging Stage
Bubbles jetted out from his mouth as Shinji heaved in the LCL, blurring his vision. Silently crying out into the night he charged at Zeruel, savoring the wiry grinding of their jaws against its fresh body. Something was nagging at the back of his mind, pushing him to eat it all—
You can't leave the table until it's all gone, Shinji-kun.
— Shinji embraced it, loved it, for it was only in the solitary gnashing of teeth against the bloody helical organ that he could find pleasure now, only in the flesh that he knew solace. The LCL was thicker than normal, ruddy and offending to his nose, and as he sunk more and more into the identity of her, Shinji could barely glimpse his body bubbling away into the orange.
Yui continued her work with what smile she could manage, prying away at the violet mask to better free up her jaw. There would be no more mishaps like Shamshel; howling gleefully she gnawed away at the skeleton. If even a scrap remained, it would all be over for her Instrumentality.
But then, Yui was used to such delicate procedures.
Shinji decided quickly that it was not a lonely silence in that void. He could hardly call it silent to begin with; though his voice did not carry through the fluid and the darkness seemed to wall up on him all sides, always an inch or two from his skin despite his constant drifting and tumbling, throughout it all was a gentle thrum like the sounding of a cello. No, two cellos; pulled together in precious harmony, defying the closed void with their music.
"Mother!" Shinji cried out in a stroke of familiarity, and then, lips quivering tearfully, "Mommy! Mommy, help me! Help! I'm scared!"
Her voice came hushing through the tight, constricting shadow, soft and large all at once.
"Don't cry, Shinji-kun. Hush now; you're a big kid, aren't you?"
"No!" But it's not Shinji that's answering mother, but what Shinji sees of Shinji. Am I Shinji, the Shinji seen by Shinji, or am I Shinji, the Shinji who is Shinji?
"Then you've no reason to cry, eh? Calm down...stop thinking so hard."
Shinji thrashed about in the warmth, screaming with all his might as he kicked against the heavy walls; but his lungs gave out quickly, and the voice that spoke to his mother did not back his screams.
"Oh, come now. That's not what this is about, Shinji-kun. You can't just yell and expect to get what you want. What I have to give is what you will receive; you cannot ask for more. There is no more."
"I don't want what you have!"
The cello missed a note, and for a moment the walls loosened.
"Then what do you want, Shinji-kun?"
"I want my mother! I want Ikari Yui-mama!"
All at once the darkness receded, giving way to a field of dancing shrubbery, petals coerced about by the wind. Fingers stroked his face, and Shinji began to weep as Yui took him up to her shoulder, patting his back encouragingly.
"That's all you need, Shinji-kun. Focus on me; want me. Because other people...don't want that for you."
"Why?! Why can't we get along?!"
"As long as you think like that, Shinji, our world will continue to change. Don't stop thinking that; don't stop wanting me." Yui felt bitter as she concealed brief thoughts from him; Even if I never come to you, don't stop wanting me. If you stop wanting me, SEELE wins. If you want me, I win. It's that simple. This wasn't supposed to be a place to conceal things. Hiding things from Shinji now could upset the whole scenario.
At her nudging Shinji looked beyond her; past their little hill and to the riverbank below, where a stroller and a woman were positioned to stare out at the glimmering water.
There was something different with it. He knew the scene, and it was not anything he found faulting it, but it was merely something...pleasantly different.
Something squealed in the stroller, and as they neared he quickly saw himself.
"Is this what you see, when you look in the mirror?" Yui inquired quietly, as the other Yui lifted the toddler. It's difficult, isn't it Shinji-kun? Knowing what you want, and seeing it dangled before your eyes. I'm sorry.
"Is that what you see, when you look in the mirror?" Shinji spat, pointing; but following his finger, Yui soon realized he was indicating the lake, and the mask that glowered up at them from beneath it, Evangelion Unit-1's eyes alit.
Yui composed herself carefully. Shinji had not changed in ten years, he'd merely been hurt. He stilled behaved like a three-year-old.
"You left me." Shinji couldn't hide his feelings and pretend to be angry, not here; he couldn't clench his fists and scream at her. No matter how he resisted it, the words came out sobbing, "All alone with father!"
Finally, the picture fixed itself. Ikari Gendou stood there as well, overshadowing Yui. What might have been a smile was on his face, but Shinji had been too young and too impressioned to tell. Yui's memories filled the gaps for him.
"Do you hate your father?"
"Yes! He hurts me!"
"Is your father a monster?"
"Yes!"
"You're father isn't the Eva though, Shinji-kun."
At this the boy quieted, staring at his shoes as he was accustomed to; and inevitably, with no concept of time to fill in the silent moments, he turned up to Yui, pleading for answers.
"Does your father beat you?"
"No..."
"Does your father starve you?"
"No..."
"Did your father ever once abandon you?"
"...He left me with—"
"Did your father abandon you alone?"
"I..." It was a side notion, a sick little argument Yui felt compelled to pursue; it held no real weight, but she felt compelled to defend Gendou. Her husband had never truly struck out to hurt Shinji, not yet. He had always taken responsibility for the boy, even if he was a terrible father.
"Do you want to surpass your father?" Yui quietly dismantled the patchwork image of Gendou, letting it fade as the other Yui raised up the toddler and brought him close, sniffing at him suspiciously. It brought a smile to her face, recalling how late Shinji had potty-trained, unwilling to leave his mother's attentiveness behind. It would have been annoying if she hadn't known her goal in the Contact Experiment in the days to come, hadn't cherished every stupid habit of the boy and her family.
Just as quickly it brought a frown, as Shinji recalled how many years after losing his mother he'd spent crying, waking up in soaked bed covers. How many mattresses had been set out to dry by his aunt. How many days he'd climbed out the window of his bedroom and raced to the ocean side, lying flat against the sand and praying the waves would consume him.
One day he'd decided to stop crying. Not out of bravery, but because he decided everything was his father's fault. He wanted to see Gendou hurt, and he couldn't very well do that if he were crying.
"Yes." Shinji finally answered.
"Why?"
"I want you."
Sad. "And your father is competition?"
"Yes. He murdered you."
"That's not true, Shinji. I am alive. I chose this path."
"He didn't tell me that. He didn't try to love me."
"You didn't, either."
"STOP IT!!" And suddenly Shinji was the toddler in Yui's arms, kicking and bawling and pleading to be held, "I DON'T CARE ABOUT ANY OF THAT! I WANT YOU!!"
Childish, exclamation points, caps lock and all. Yui pulled him closer, nuzzling the boy's cheek. I've no right to blame him for what I've done, though. I did this to Shinji. I have to fix it.
"Don't talk about my father, please! Please don't talk about my father! Please, mama!"
"Don't talk like that, Shinji-kun. You don't need to ask."
"Don't talk about my father!"
"That's better." Yes, that's the Shinji I know. He doesn't ask, he demands; that's the way I left him, that's the way he's been.
Yui rocked him tenderly, briefly losing herself to the nostalgia as she cradled Shinji's fragile mind. Under normal circumstances she would shudder and berate herself for such slip-ups, but Shinji was a safe enough party, so entwined with her arms, that there was no inherent danger in showing her motherly side to him. On the contrary, making mistakes was a necessary step to this plan.
"Mama," Shinji whimpered softly, smile quivering between his cheeks as he burrowed in against her sweater.
Yui complied to his silent demands, clothes furrowing as she rolled the sweater and undershirt up to her neck and released the bra. It was that beautiful, jarring dissonance between reality and her world inside the Eva's core. Here they were free of prying eyes, a small select group of people privy only to their own, private little world without regular laws of conduct and behavior. It was the essence of her plan, and the logic behind having thirteen Evangelions constructed.
At first he was awkward, unsure of how to approach it, but it took only the brushing of lips against a teat before Shinji's base, animal urge to suckle took hold. In her more formative years, Yui had marveled at the infant animal's inherent understanding of how to feed; nursing Shinji at her breast now, she recalled a far greater intrigue at the developed animal's ability to regress. It was, in the end, a gigantic bicycle joke waiting to happen.
"This is all you want," Yui mouthed softly to the little boy, "To demand things and be given them by another. To live in such a conditional world, your every need taken care of?"
"Yes!" Tiny Shinji agreed gleefully, "Don't you like taking care of me?"
"I do." Yui nodded, genuinely pleased with her son, "But do you think everyone can live this way? One person enjoying being given things, and another enjoying giving them?"
"I don't see why not."
Yes, Shin-chan, that's it. That is the basis of my scenario. That is why there will be eleven Evangelions; SEELE set me back with 03 and 04, but as long as there are two, we can make Instrumentality work.
[...]
It was days before she could finally coax Shinji from her breast, could catch him between a cycle of feeding and sleeping, a period when he had no needs, that she could pose before him once more the existence of his father.
Shinji's mind was suddenly diving into hers, accusing her, frantic and panicking, and in the moment Yui let slip that thought of Gendou, the memory played out.
"No, not here...dear, you'll wake Shin-chan—"
"It's all right. He won't wake."
"No, stop! Not in this room— not here—"
"You think I can help being an animal?"
"Ahh! Ohh, you—"
He had heard enough. In that instance, he was Shinji the toddler, his eyes wide open; in the next, he was Shinji the teenager, the only 'man' of Shinji he knew, nude for battle.
"But you were awake." Yui couldn't gain control of her emotions in time, tears blubbering from her eyes. She felt like a schoolgirl, weak and helpless before that memory of Gendou, and at the same time she knew the offense and the fear of a mother, of seeing a young Shinji's fingers linger in his mouth as the sounds of his parents lovemaking fought to waken him. She knew more than the fear; Yui still felt strong the guilt of seeing Shinji's eyes open in that fatal moment.
If there were one memory she wanted to erase, it was that one.
It would be difficult now, reconciling Shinji. Before she was the symbol of utmost purity to him, an untainted goal to strive for; so Yui dried her tears and stood tall, imposing even without her clothes, pulling Shinji close. He saw her ardent pride and flinched, and in response Yui began to cave, letting her figure drop an inch or two to open her mouth, waiting for him, baiting him. She had to be overtaken by the child now.
He didn't take to her lips, not the way she'd hoped. If Shinji dominated her, made her a sexual conquest, that was all right; he could leave his father's shadow behind.
Instead, they began to drift through the unsteady blue of the sky as fourteen-year-old Ikari Shinji resumed suckling, this time tainted by the sinful blush of adult comprehension. Yui obliged him, unwilling to jeopardize her plans through resistance.
Shinji, however, could not account for the kinds of variables Yui had spent eleven years predicting and adapting her plans for. He could not account for the streaming white that now billowed into the liquid void, flushing a brilliant scarlet as Ikari Shinji's body gave the inevitable reaction, longing for the body that fed him, inebriated by his mother's milk.
"I'm sorry!" He pleaded with her earnestly, not wanting to lose Yui's approval, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry, mama!"
"It's all right." Yui stroked his hair gently, urging the boy back to her breast, "I understand. You're fourteen, Shinji-kun. Your body does this."
Shinji quietly wished that all the world were so understanding. Yui didn't say nonsense like 'you can't help it'. Yui acknowledged how he felt, accepted he felt it, but did not feel obligated to reciprocate; Yui accommodated his feelings without trying to weasel in her own precedents.
"Shinji, what if you walked into Misato's apartment, and she was masturbating? What would you do?"
"I would run away."
"Why?"
"She scares me."
"She does?"
"Sex does. Misato is sexual. Misato has sex with men."
"And that's wrong?"
"I don't care if it's wrong. It's scary."
"If she touches you?"
"Stop it stop it stop it!!" He couldn't maintain a form now; the toddler wanted to run into the other room, but was met with the memories of Gendou. The man was met with Misato, who threatened him with her caresses. It was all strange. It was all terrifying. He wanted to cry and be held.
Yui knew a small sanctuary in making Shinji unstable. Quietly she shifted the Eva's limbs, ever so slightly to prepare it for events to come, and quietly she began to assimilate Shinji once more.
SEELE wants a womb. But Shinji only wants others to help him. This will work, no matter what they try next.
[...]
Misato was sobbing. Sobbing and retching against the LCL-tainted plug suit, the scent of blood strong in her nostrils as she buried her face in it. A second splash drew her eyes away, as Shinji emerged nude from the Evangelion's stressed core.
"SHINJI-KUN!"
His skin was clammy and dyed a lustrous orange from the exposure to LCL, and he was coughing and sputtering the viscous fluid all about. Coated in a thick, slimy mixture of raunchy fluid and with a face purpled by a lack of oxygen, he was anything but worthy of embrace.
Misato gathered him into her arms heedless of all the muck, voice cracking in a wail as she squeezed the boy, somewhere between relief and ecstasy as he took a breath.
Above her, Ritsuko could have sworn Unit-1 was smug.
Misato did not join Shinji upon bringing him home from NERV's hospital ward. No, she deposited him upon his bed ceremoniously, and then immediately returned to her Renault, Ritsuko waiting in the passenger's side.
“The repair work for Unit 1 will be done soon.” Ritsuko affirmed, unable to think of anything else to discuss. Slowly, they had begun to lose their ties as friends— she couldn't recall the last time she'd met Misato for something not concerning Eva.
“Humans use the power of good as a tool, after all.”
“I don't know. The Committee has proposed restraining it.” After all, it's all the Committee can do at this point. SEELE's intervening too greatly for them to try much of anything.
“Artificial human Evangelion...the unknown black box seems too large for a thing humans created, don't you think?” Misato mused bitterly, though her attentions were hardly on the conversation at hand, “Well, Shinji was saved in the end, so it's okay.”
“I didn't do it. It was probably because of you.” Ritsuko said it defensively, quietly wishing to alienate herself from the credit, “How about a drink? It's been a while, hasn't it?”
Misato started, for a brief instant losing her grip on the wheel— and by miracle, recovering fast enough she didn't think Ritsuko would notice.
“Sorry, but I have something to do.”
“I see.” Ritsuko leaned on the window disgustedly, A man, perhaps?
She didn't have to endure her disgust long before Misato located the apartment.
“Bye.”
Marooned in an instant, like a sailor betrayed by her shipmates.
“As soon as Shinji-kun's safety is confirmed, she's off to meet a guy.” Ritsuko muttered, personally kicking herself even as the words tumbled from her mouth. Silently, she wheeled to face the apartment of Ikari Gendou.
“I shouldn't talk.”
Shinji's skin remained painted for some days after being released from the Eva's womb. The LCL's mark was slow to fade— it didn't wash off in the shower, but as Ritsuko explained it, it would gradually be absorbed through his skin and into the bloodstream.
Misato couldn't help but wonder if it was a mistake to say that on Ritsuko's part, divulging the chemical's properties so clearly. After all, what could be absorbed by the bloodstream was only...
But, Shinji didn't seem to pick up on. As ever, he meekly went about his business, though orange throughout it. It was decided against having him attend school, instead keeping him close to NERV in the event of another attack, and to give him time to recuperate from the experience.
Ikari Shinji did not speak to the others on the quiet ache he felt, the subtle lust that pursued him after leaving the Eva, new yet familiar urges tugging at him insistently every second and into his dreams. Like so many other pains he felt, Shinji did not communicate this— how would he? He was a child, unable to explain these sensations, and they were adults who had solved the world's mysteries long ago.
One week after returning from the Eva, Ikari Yui's words arrived to back his ache; “Shinji, what if you walked into Misato's apartment,”
Softly he set his feet to the carpet, his SDAT falling in a clump of dead plastic as Shinji slid the door aside. Stepping out into the living room and around the bend to the water closet, Shinji stared into the eyes of his reflection. By now most of the LCL had regressed into his veins, and yet the orange on his lips remained stark and brilliant in the light. It occurred to him now where the ache was sparking from, the part of him that craved stimulation.
Walking back out into the living room he could see Misato lying across the couch, distracted by the flicker of the television. Asuka was still out with her...friends? It was difficult, picturing someone like Asuka having friends.
Shinji took a step closer, and then another, counting as he felt the unstable crashing of his feet against the cold wooden floor. A step forward into terror, pushed on only by that singular thought 'Walk'.
Another step, and he crudely fell forward, head colliding against the floorboards. Shinji reached up to grasp at this new pain, but after a moment the initial blaze subsided and the ache left in its place was nothing to that on his lips. Nothing to the sensation that had him begging the question; Why didn't Misato-san help me when I fell?
Yet rising up and at the sight of her and what she was doing, Ikari Shinji wished he hadn't asked that question, wished that his mother's words weren't echoing now another question to answer his own.
“And she was masturbating?”
The look in her eyes was dead, unrecognizing. For all Shinji could tell, Misato didn't know he was there.
“Did something happen?” He finally broke the silence, unable to continue staring any longer.
“No, but I'm worried something wi—“ Misato jumped a little on the couch, finally comprehending Shinji. It took a lot to make Misato embarrassed; it took more to make her blush.
“Sh-shinji-kun...what are you...I...” Misato couldn't put it to words. She felt stupid, trying to live like she had before either of the children had arrived in her home. Trying to think of Kaji, and not be worried.
She was silenced by Shinji's sigh, abrupt and afraid, all the anxiousness that was building in his chest rushing up to pierce his tear ducts. He took a few more wobbly steps forward, before tripping once more and collapsing into Misato's shoulder.
“Are...you all right?” Misato spoke softly, putting an arm around Shinji's shoulder and making room for him on the couch, “Did something happen?”
Shinji shook his head— or what she thought was a shake of the head, but soon realized to be him burying his face in her shoulder. Heaving sobs tormented Misato's ears, warm tears amassing on her skin.
It was painful at first, because she didn't know what to do. Kaji had never, not once, cried in front of her; none of the men she'd been with had. As far as her memories dared stretch, Misato could not once recall anyone coming before her with tears or an honest need for care.
Then the pain and the fear subsided, as Misato settled into her natural recourse. She curled closer to Shinji, nuzzling him against her and pushing his arms up to level with her neck.
“Shinji-kun,” Though having a general plan, Misato had yet to apply it to a fourteen-year-old. She bent her head down, uttering soft, kind words into Shinji's ear, “Do whatever.”
He seemed to nod, or else he was caving his head against her neckline, but regardless his response Shinji's fingers wrapped around the straps of her shirt, tugging on the pink garment. Misato complied, quietly shrugging away the article, only to remember that she wasn't wearing a bra.
Is this what mother meant, Shinji considered quietly as he stared at Misato; the woman returned his gaze, curious as to just what her spontaneous partner's goals were, A mother is something...that I always wanted to have, and can never attain, because of father. But could Misato...?
'Attain' was a vague enough word that he might have considered that evening a success.
Shinji suddenly made to toss away his shirt, feverishly tugging at his belt buckle— not to satisfy the other lusty thoughts, but because he wanted to feel her. To sense and touch Misato's skin, smooth and supple to his prodding.
Some part of Misato had her smiling, and at once she questioned why she was so happy to bed a child. Yet, as with so many of her actions before then, Misato submerged the thought in face of her animal sating.
“Take your clothes off.” Shinji demanded. It was astounding, how gentle he could be while ordering her around.
“All of them?” Misato grinned playfully, shooing away her shorts, “Maybe we should take this into my room before—“
Shinji sprung forward, his fingers pressing against Misato's bare shoulders as the boy's tongue brushed against her breast. He perused the area with wide eyes until finally settling to wrap the orange of his lips against her teat, sucking on the hefty mound.
“A-aah...” Misato flinched for one of the few times in her extended sex life. Maybe it seemed odder still that she hadn't done this with any man before, but she certainly wasn't expending Shinji to bring about such unfamiliar sensations.
He seemed wholly consumed by the perverse interest in her breasts, groping the pallid tissue with a unique childishness, but Misato didn't blame Shinji. It was his first time seeing anything of a woman, and a year or two ago he might have still thought girls to have cooties. So, she let him have his fun— not for any lack of it on her part, still processing the new feelings his mouth was granting her.
Shinji leaned forward, trembling as he moved from one nipple to the other, almost confused by his choice in targets as his tongue relentlessly wormed about Misato's chest, finally latching his mouth onto his old stay at her left to suckle the teat. His thighs moved forward, easing, daring himself in between her legs— and briefly, Shinji broke away from her breast to hastily mutter,
“I'm scared.”
“It's okay.” Misato's fingers caressed his cheek comfortingly, “I'll make it easy on you. I'll do all the hard work, okay?”
It was some strange part of her that compelled Misato to make it easy on him, to ensure it was enjoyable for Shinji.
I took him in as my own. I want his first time to be enjoyable.
It was a discomforting explanation, but it was all she had as Misato inched Shinji in, reaching down to grope at his ass.
It's like that night, Shinji mused as he let Misato lead him in, focusing his attentions orally, That I faced off against the Fourteenth Angel and—
Moron! He berated as he caught himself, Don't bite her!
And as Ikari Shinij settled into the pattern of breathing through his nose as he tended adoringly to Misato's breast, something emerged from the nipple to tickle his tongue and then pour down his throat in a savory mixture, finally putting to rest the ache that had followed him out of the Eva, finally sating that lingering thirst.
“Sh-shinji, maybe we should...” Misato bit her own tongue. She didn't want to deny the pleasure it was giving either of them— but expressing milk was hardly a familiar...
Well, she'd probably done kinkier things. It couldn't hurt to let him go on.
He was ravenous now, his lips tugging endlessly at her breast in pursuit of the warm, vaguely liquor-tasting substance. Shinji was honestly paying no heed to what Misato was doing further down, moving as she moved, trying to copy her sweaty dance as he maintained the suckling position.
Briefly their cheeks met and she nudged him away long enough to press her lips to his, Shinji letting out a brief squeak in the moment her tongue ran the distance of his lips. Misato's hair tickled his neck, little beads of sweat caught on the purple strands.
And then those brief instants passed, and he was once more bringing satisfaction to the longing held in his lips those long seven days, the world growing warmer with every drop that passed into his mouth.
Shinji wasn't entirely sure when he'd ejaculated, only that over time he lost his vigor and the satisfaction had begun to sink in. Within a short minute, they were lying there entangled on the couch, breathing heavily.
“Not so bad, kiddo.” Misato smiled, tousling his hair.
“Thank you.”
“It's not a favor, you're my friend. But...”
“Yeah...?”
“If you want to do this more, Shinji-kun,” There was always a certain element of business to it for Misato, but none more so than now. It was strange, how she could flip from sensual to practical in a mere strumming of the heartstrings, “We have to have a schedule.”
“Eh...?”
“If this is going to be a regular thing, it's going to be daily. Are we going to do it at eight like tonight? Later? Earlier?”
“Wh-why's that so important...?”
Misato frowned, but then quietly realized what she'd put into the boy's system just then.
“Shinji-kun, if I'm feeding you, then I'm also lactating. We need to do this at a specific time each day— it gets sore.” She gestured to her breasts, “And that means when that time rolls around, you start, right away, even if we have to find a bathroom stall to do it in. How about eight for now?”
“Sure, sure, Misato-san...”
“I'll cut down on the drinking a bit,” Misato sighed, knowing it was partially her fault, “So you don't get like this.”
“Sure, sure, Misato-san...”
What goes into me, goes into him. That means only half the alcohol intake. Goddamnit, I have to balance being a responsible parent and a responsible pedophile!
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