Darkscribes.org

Second Impact was man's attempt to weild the hands of godhood. It brought them
low, cleansing much of their population. It reshaped the world and set billions of souls
screaming into the night. Those that remained had to struggle the remains of their
proudest era.

 

Japan, being an island nation, was among the worst affected. The seas had risen
dramatically, drowning their interlocking coastal metropolis'(es?). The children who
had grown immidiately following Impact were in a world vastly reduced, vastly sapped
of its vibrant exuberance. The age before them could only be recast into the apex of
humanity. It was a time of reckless motion that they might never achieve again;
a-brimming with ideas, many of which sank under the sea or set aside in the call for
survival.

 

Shinji Ikari grew up along the hills, which were now the new coastlines. He lived there
with his uncle and aunt, who though cared for him still set themselves remote. They
had lost their own son in the Impact, and taking care of Rokubungki's child could not
truly fill that emotional void. In a house without smiles, Shinji only learned to be silent
and obedient; further deepening the dissimilarity between him and the child they once
had, a boy full of laughter and easy tears.

 

He did not expect much from his guardians. As he never asked for anything, they
took it as a sign he was content. That it was how he liked things. He as a
consequence grew without lavish attention, without toys, without the competitive
bonds of playmates. He watched silently as the others played, bragged and then
combined their amusements. Apathy was his proof against envy.

 

It was before he discovered the cello, the solitary music, and the gentle stirrings of
the classicals. Before that, he had the sea. He would walk back then at the edges of
bitten cliffs and the new worn beaches, watching the unceasing motion of the tides
beating powerfully against rock. Lying there, staring up at the sky, letting the sounds
fill him and consume him - he felt a part of something greater. It reminded him that
man was small, that such needs and such painful emotions were as nothing at all.

 

The latter half of the twentieth century was a glut of entertainment. It all but
vanished as studios sank under the waves and efforts were funneled into the
practical. That left a somber land and a somber people.

Shinji grew up without frivolous TV shows, without the spread of manga or the
glorious wrath of Godzilla. The few books around the house and at school were
simple texts, intended mainly to be instructional than entertaining.

One day, as he lay there, as if daring the sea to make that surge and swallow him
up; it all changed.

For the sea did surge, and the waves did flow over him, and he gasped and flailed and
something big and black rose along with the tides to clonk him upside down the head.

He washed back up on shore. Shinji rubbed at his head; and he thought it pitiful that
for those brief moments he thought he was going to die it was nonetheless the most
exciting thing to ever happen to him. His heart was still pounding, his skin cold and
over-sensitive. He felt so thoroughly alive just then.

The waves seemed to push the black object further to him, trying to get him to
accept it. Shinji decided to haul what turned out to be a big black suitcase away
from the sea.

It was made of tough plastic, and sealed shut with protective hard plaster lining at
the seams. He was alone there, as he preferred. It wasn't that far from his house,
but in the aftermath of Second Impact many properties still remained abandoned.
Shinji gave in to curiousity and decided to open in. In any other point in time he
would have sheepishly brought it over to a person in any authority, even someone
slightly older. Right then however, he was still filled with his first shot of adrenalin
and his head throbbed enough to interfere with common sense. He brought it over
to a slab of flat rock, and broke the seals. The suitcase lock had only three digits,
and was easy enough to crack.

Inside, were books. Big, colorful books, and utterly unlike anything he had ever
seen before. Packed to the side were little figurines in dynamic poses, painted in
exquisite detail. Skulls, monstrous figures adorned the contents in many places, but
for some reason it hardly frightened him; he who was nervous of little mice. He
picked one book up and hesitantly ran a small palm over its glossy cover. Its title was
adorned with a strange double-headed eagle. He didn't recognize any of the letters,
being that English had yet to be taught to his grade level... but the sight was
burned into his mind. He had to know what it said.

He opened the book, the pages crackling with newness. Illustrations, paragraphs,
numbers, all there and unfamiliar. None of it made sense. The pictures matched
the figurines, though; scenes of conflict and death on a massive scale were clear
enough.

He didn't understand anything but knew enough that he held in his hands something
epic.

For the first time in his life Shinji learnt NEED. He needed it. He needed to know
what it meant. He would never let it go, never give up this discovery. For a time, he
considered burying it as a treasure all his own, but there was the risk of someone
finding and taking it.

Slowly, furtively, he pulled the suitcase back to the house. He felt utter fear. Every
shadow was a thief. Up, up, difficult as it was, he wrestled it over stairs and into his
room.

When his guardians came, he was so hesitant in his speech that they thought he had
stolen it. For the first time he felt anger. He found it by the beach, he insisted, and it
was his by right! The seaweed and small cockle-shells clinging to the case convinced
them. It looked like it had floated for years through the bloated Pacific.

When he asked what it was, they said it was perhaps too grown-up for him. "This...
this means something." he said, suddenly too serious, his face such a focused mask
that reminded them all too much of Gendo. Shinji pointed to the title. He took out
one of the figurines, and matched it to the frowning helmet on the cover.
"I don't know but it's this. What does it say? What is it?"

His uncle sighed. His wife disapproved of the blatantly horrendous contents of
the suitcase. "It says... Warhammer 40,000. Codex Space Marines." Inside he was
bubbling. He saw the the hope in Shinji's eyes and shared it. It was in its own way a
true treasure. It was something for the men in that house to share; his son would
have enjoyed it as much as Shinji would... in that respect he would allow it. He
found the contents as damn cool as Shinji did.

Mine! he was shouting inside. He didn't dare look at his wife. Man rights! Man rights!
We are never too old for toys!

"What's that...?" Shinji asked. That wasn't helpful at all!

"It's in English, Shinji-kun. A different language from Japanese. You need to know it
to really see what this is all about."

The boy nodded. "Then I will learn this... ing...-lesh? I want to learn it, uncle!"

The magic word was want. His guardians saw the selfsame determination apparent
in his father. The boy, young as he was, was ready to give himself over to something
separate from himself. If they gave away the suitcase, literally anything might happen.
Gendo was unpredictable in such a manner, and his son, so easily following in his
steps was likewise easier to just tolerate in his odd dreams.

Besides, his uncle really wanted to play with that Dreadnought over there. "I'll
help you learn it, Shinji." He smiled. "It's okay." he said aside. "It's... educational..."

-


The universe of Warhammer 40,000 was already heady stuff for a grownup, and
mind-warping to a little boy. Shinji was determined to puzzle it out. Not only was it
his first exposure to creative etertainment, but of science fiction as well. Everything
else he saw was linked to Warhammer somehow. His childish daydreams involved
hunting for xenos, Titans in the bushes, the sky above seemingly higher and bluer
with the knowledge that beyond that might be worlds like the stories. His uncle grew
hooked as well and soon put the books on prized display over at his desk. Armed with
dictionaries the two slowly figured out the mechanics of the game.

Laughter rang in that house, for the first time in many years.

"Filthy xeno! You will be cleansed from this planet!" the office worker screamed. "In
the name of the Emperor!"

"Waaaagh!" retorted Shinji, pushing a tray full of orkish figures and paper cut-outs to
stand for missing pieces. It had gotten to the point that the two would not talk to
each other except in English. And in a martial combative style.

His wife hated it. She hated the ugly, warlike setting. She hated the way they laid
claim to the kitchen and sections of the living room as battlefield. Most of all she
hated how her husband was treating the boy as a replacement for her son. He was
forgetting, who it was that he owed his love to. She hated how she was being cast
aside, in their rapid exchanges in a language she was not really all that familiar with.

"You're Japanese!" she screeched. "At least speak that in this house!" It was as if
they were making fun of her ignorance.

-

 

One day, while they were away, she took and stuffed all the figurines into a sack.
Space Marine and Land Raider, Ork mobs by the whole, Eldar so spindly and fragile,
and the horrific Chaos specially... into the bag, out the door. She had to get it all out
of the house; she had to take back her life.

Shinji arrived, smiling and polite. He noticed their absence. He looked frantically
about; making noises, leaving messes. She snapped at him, told him to do his
homework. With such accusing eyes, he looked at her, and he ran upstairs to get it
all done.

All too soon he was back down, gasping for breath. He stood there clutching his
notebooks and waiting, as she sat by the table and cradled her face in her hands.
Minutes inched by, in silence, perhaps she hoped he would go away. Shinji's little
body shook, but he stood there, as long as it would take. He did not dare to poke her
and see if she was asleep.

"It's gone, damn it! GONE! They're trash! Worthless, useless, trash!" she screamed at
him suddenly. "I THREW IT ALL AWAY! YOU'LL NEVER GET THEM AGAIN!"

Shinji let out such a howl and dropped his notebooks, that she feared he might
actually attack her. Instead, he cried. He had thought as much. "WHY?!" was all
he said, between whining sobs. He had stood there long enough that his legs were
numb, locked into place. He wiped his face on the sleeves of his shirt, staining
it with yellowish snot.

"Stop that!" his aunt shouted. "I have to wash that..!"

Shinji didn't care. He felt malice for the first time. He blew his nose but it just came
out in dribbles. He turned back to her, eyes red and sniffling... wetness down his
cheeks and out his nose. "Why...?!" he asked again.

"STOP THAT!" she screamed again. She lauched off her chair and made as if to hit
him. He shrank back, though still rooted to the spot. The aunt grimaced and
pulled back her hands... she clutched them over her laboring chest, constricting
emotions gripping her as well. She sniffled a bit as well, her eyes starting to tear up.
The boy's howling never stopped.

She was sure the neighbors, though far enough away, could hear him. "Stop it..."
she whispered. "You're not my son..."

"I'm sorry." said Shinji. "Whatever it is, I'm sorry."

"Stop it! No!" She placed her palms over hear ears and squeezed her eyes shut.
She considered herself a good person. All she wanted was some peace! "Don't say
that!"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry... I'll try to be a good boy." He coughed as air went down the
wrong pipe. "I'm sorry. I know I'm not your son. I won't play with uncle anymore. I'll
help out more with the chores." Gendo's son wanted to kneel, but his knees were still
locked. He wanted to run away. It was so painful! Why did he have to feel that way?
It was better when there was nothing he actually liked!

"I'm sorry!" he shouted now.

She threw herself at him, her eys glittering madly, and the boy screamed.

However, his aunt was just embracing him. She was crying into his shoulder.

"No, I'M sorry." she sobbed out as well. My face is now full of snot, a part of her mind
noted. Being a mother is disgusting, difficult job. Sometimes that what makes it
worthwhile, to be so needed. "I'm sorry, Shinji..."

She pulled away at wiped his tears with her apron. She had served the domesticated
wife for too long; she even wore her hair in the prim manner so demanded by the role.
Every day without her son made it all meaningless, but still did so in a ritual to forget,
to immerse herself in being needed that it only heightened her isolation.

"It.. is... my fault... I didn't understand. I was selfish, too." she said. She all but
collapsed, and Shinji had to support her with his tiny arms. "My son is dead! I can't...
every day, I can almost hear his voice. Kaa-san, play with me! Kaa-san, where's
father? Mother, look at me!"

Her hair came undone, she touched her forehead to his. Her bloodshot eyes met
his. "You are drowning out his voice! When you laugh, it's like he can't be here
anymore. It's like he was never here. Your room was his room. Your clothes were
his clothes... you look so much like your mother, my sister, and me; it hurts! It hurts
me! I can't let you be my son. I can't abandon him...! I have to prove he once was!"

Neither were in any rational state of mind.

"I'm sorry..." Shinji said again.

"No!"

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that!"

"But I am!" he shouted. "I never wanted this! You're not my mother. My mother is
DEAD! My father doesn't want me! And I do nothing except cause everybody pain...!"

"Shinji..."

"All I had was a place where I wasn't myself. It wasn't real... it made me happy
because it wasn't real. I hate my life! I hate it! I hate this world!" He was
grimacing so much veins in his neck were bulging out. "But over there, without
hate you can't live. They're heroes out there. I want to be a hero. I want to die, that
I did something that was worth everything before it... and it's not even real!"

He sniffled some more. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

His aunt drew back, staring at him in mute horror. Children were prone to the
dramatic, and in their ignorance could be the cruelest creatures. They were also in
their way heart-rendingly sincere. A child should not be entertaining such thoughts.
She could blame part of that on his violent little hobby... but most of it, in a world
and a family that had no affection to spare.

"...humanitas..." he mumbled. "For humanity. It was so big. It was so awesome. It
was everything this stupid stupid world should have been..." He looked up, seemingly
through her, his young eyes dark and piercing. "I want never having to be alone with
the brotherhood of the Space Marine. I want to have a God-Emperor to trust with all
my soul. I want the orks and their Waaagh and their joy in being alive, and the Eldar
who are all so wise where I'm not. Even the Chaos and their demons made it all seem
so worthwhile.

Everything made sense. Everything had a purpose..."

Shinji had actually gained better grades from the box; his drive to learn English and
understand the concepts in science fiction made elementary school... well,
elementary.

Much like his father, he had let himself become absorbed by something greater than
himself. The main difference was the he had swallowed a lie rather than building an
edifice of it to entrap others.

"I'm not your son..." he continued. He clenched his fists and quivered in place. "What
am I, really?"

"Shinji... I never realized it was..."

"Who is Shinji?! Someone please tell me! What am I supposed to be?" he asked in
all desperation.

His aunt slowly shook her head. "You're just a child. Shinji... you shouldn't be thinking
those things. You can be whatever you want to be, it's still all so far away for you..."

"Whatever else other than your son..." he finished. "I'm sorry. I'm not him. I can't ever
be him. I'm sorry you thought I was trying..." he trailed off into silence.

Crickets chirped outside, the room was stained red.

She placed her hands on his shoulder, in a posture to push him away and sighed.
"No, you can never replace my son..."

Instead, she pulled and crushed him into a hug. "But I think I can love you anyway..."

The boy began to cry again. He was, after all, just ten.

"Baa-san."

"Shinji..."

In the growing darkness they remained, true family at last.

"Librarian!"

She blinked. That was one of the few English words she knew. What an odd thing
to yell out in such a dramatic moment. Shinji struggled to get out of her embrace
and she let him loose.

The boy tried to walk and nearly toppled over to smash his head on the table edge;
luckily he was fast enough push away with his hands. His aunt was stunned into
wide-eyed inaction.

Shinji weaved past the dining table and into the kitchen. He reached into the
shadows behind a shelf and brought out a figurine; a bald man, scowling, in thick
stubby blue armor. "Hu-waaa." the boy gasped out. "I found it! Master Librarian of
the Ultramarines!" He looked wildly around the kitchen. He pointed to another dark
area. "Is that... is that, hey!" He rushed to over the refrigerator and pulled out a
"Dreadnought-sama!" and "Wah! Tankbusta-dono! You were fighting again!"

Well, he was ten.

He turned around and gave her such a biiig, happy smile, so bright and honest. "That
was a dirty trick you pulled, auntie." He wantedto hug her again, but his arms were
rather already full. "But I'm glad we had this talk."

His aunt simply sat there, her eyes glazed, her hair frazzled. She managed to get
herself to moving just in time to clean up after herself, and present a welcoming face
to her husband. Meanwhile, Shinji went around finding Warhammer 40k figurines all
over the place. He was having fun in the odd variation of hide and seek. It made him
love, for yes he finally identified that feeling, his aunt
all the more.

They never mentioned again what happened then. They got along just fine, and it
was from her that Shinji learn most of his cooking skills. She never interfered again in
the boys' (both ages) playing, and went deliberately out of her way to allow them
their time for bonding. The miniatures were always clean and their colors bright and
fresh as the day they were painted.

----------------------------------------------------------------------


In the dark future of the 41st millenium, there is only war.

Warhammer Fourty Thousand is perhaps one of the most violent, depressing, over-
the-top mindscapes ever created. It dripped with blood, with dreams juiced into
unrecognizable slurry, decency and morality stretched to the breaking point. There
are no innocents, only degrees of guilt.

Shinji basked in it. The boy absorbed it into every corner of his being. There was
nothing else at that time in Japan that could compare. The gods had abandoned man,
cast him in the fires of their own stupidity. Shinji had no idea of what was behind
Second Impact, wheter it was punishment or mere random chance. In the grim solace
of his pieces and codexes, the human struggle from without paled in comparison. It
made the living world, to him, bright and new and still worthy of exploration.

It could be some cosmic irony, that a galaxy torn in strife and populated with the
worst and best of zealotry, lusts, hatred, fear, deceit, mutation, and just senseless
murder... is the one thing that could turn him... normal.


-
-


Shinji was by nature(and nurture) a nervous, easily frightened child. The very first
blackout he ever experienced froze him in mid-step. There was a typhoon, and the
old house groaned as what sounded like a howling army of vicious toothy beasts beat
themselves against it. He had suffered through tropical storms before, but it was the
first time having read of the dark future and the science behind typhoons, that it
struck him all at once how massive the world was and how little he was. Everything
was dark and hopeless. He was cold. Unsurprisingly, that realization was how it was
-all the time- to the grunts in Warhammer.

A roar, and his window broke from a flung branch; icy air rushed knife-like in, seeming
to grasp him in great claws. He screamed. His uncle went rushing in, and his candle
blew out.

It took him a few moments to rekindle it, every second sending the over-imaginative
boy further into cold shock.

Shinji's aunt led him away while his uncle boarded up the cracked glass window.
The boy felt the universe dammed away in the warmth of her arms. "Are you all right,
Shin-chan? Maybe you should stay with us in our room." The boy was not her son,
and she wished that if he had lived, he would have been so well-behaved.

Shinji shook his head. He didn't want to impose even further. His guardians likewise
didn't want to force anything they wanted, even for his own good, to him.

The boy stood alone in the center of his room, the candle-lights sending strange
writhing shadows dancing on its wall. Outside the primordial fury still raged. He closed
his eyes. Total darknesswas actually less scary.

He rushed to a place he was absolutely certain on, where he had stashed his
miniatures as the family prepared for the storm. He opened the cardboard box and
took out a Space Marine without his helmet. His square-jawed faced and steely gaze
held a Space Marine's unfaltering will.

He took that figurine and set it on the desk near his bed. He lay down, with the
Space Marine standing between him and the shadows. Its own shadow loomed large
over Shinji's bed; and it was good. When the candle died, and all was rage and
darkness,Shinji was no longer afraid. He believed, in a child's innocent and utter faith,
that the Space Marine stands as a guardian against all darkness, that the light of the
Emperor will yet prevail. He stands as the rock upon which the hope of humanity is
built.

Shinji never feared the dark again, no matter where it was. As long as his Space
Marine stood there, he never had any bad dreams. Scary movies, ghost stories,
among the pastime of children, had him listen there unflinching. The kids he played
with called him the boy without fear. Graveyards and old buildings were gothic
grounds, and in their dark stillness he felt as if welcomed.

His nights would always be safe, thanks to his Space Marine.

-
-

 

Shinji was doing well in class, even going so far as to be on the honor roll. His
teachers could not say anything much about him, though. He was still small, he was
still so slight of stance and stature that he was easy to ignore. He always seemed to
stop just short of pushing himself or getting noticed. He did what was expected of
him, nothing more.

That didn't mean he wasn't noticed. His classmates saw his improving grades, how
he devoured books that he saw; specially seeking out hard english books. He was
becoming a proto-nerd.

He talks to himself, they saw that. He was weird. Not a cool sort of weird; no one
good at class was ever cool at that age. They all felt as if Shinji was judging them
somehow, intentionally setting himself apart. That was starting to
piss them off.

And actually, he was. Shouts of "Geppie Robo! Combine" and the frantic rushing about
beating on space monsters didn't appeal to him. It was the most popular game on the
playground. Giant robots and boys naturally sought each other out.

Shinji never indulged in that play. He even refused. He didn't really know much about
that sort of thing. He couldn't play along because in his dreams his robots don't play.

They were epic.

Their stride was unstoppable, their will indomitable. They did not leap, they did not
shout special attacks. They simply -were-. Their home was battlefield, and where
they went they brought it along. They made it with every stride, every glance. The
Giant Robo is a little boy's god. They that walked in the vistas of his mind were the
Titans of their age, Archetypical, God-slayers.

Shinji liked the swings, trying to get himself soaring higher and higher, and the fall
was the best part. He didn't compete with the other children, nor shared any of the
playground until he had to. To him, the see-saw remained unused. Those he could call
'friends' were all older than him, and their classes ended at different times.

Shinji got another perfect score on his English test. It was a required subject in the
higher grade levels, as the world's devastation forced countries to become more and
more inter-connected as they shared and traded dwindling resources. His reading
ability was nothing short of phenomenal, but his teacher said that his speech was not
too good. Unfortunately, neither of them could actually pronounce proper English.
Neither had any idea what it truly sounded like.

It was likely that Shinji was further along with that.

They followed him that day; three boys skulking along the long deserted path back to
Shinji's house. They saw him again talking to himself, his face full of animation absent
when at school or speaking to another person.

"Hey!" shouted the token leader of the three. "Hey, you! Wait up!"

They ran up to him. They were all taller than him, and Shinji looked up at him with his
customary bland gaze. "Ara, Kobayakawa-kun." He nodded to each. "Minato-kun,
Yohta-kun." Inside Shinji was strangely expectant. No one had ever talked to him
outside of school before.

"Shut up!" shouted the tallest, and roundest, who was Kobayakawa. "You likes
talking down to us, huh?"

"Yeah! You think you're better than us!" put in Minato, a short boy only barely bigger
than Shinji. "We don't like that."

"You're uncool, you're a kiss-up, and you're useless." piped up the third.

"So why don't ya say something?" Kobayakawa finshed, his round face crumpled into
a sneer. He poked at Shinji. "Say something in English."

"A-no sa.."

He poked Shinji again, harder.

"In English, I said!"

Shinji, bewildered, only said "Wot?"

The boys made blanching sounds of frustration. Shinji began to step backwards,
preparing to run off away from the insanity, when the leader noticed him having his
left hand stuck in his pockets. Kobayakawa grabbed it, keeping him from bolting for it.

"What's that you have there?"

Shinji tried to break free, but couldn't. The pudgy boy tried to get at whatever was in
his pockets, but Shinji had enough leverage to keep the hand forced in. "Hey, help me
out!" Kobayakawa told his buddies. They managed to pry it loose.

"Hey! Look at this!" said the boy. "It's a monster!" He held up an Orkish warboss to
the light. "It's so ugly!"

"That's so cool..." breathed Yohta. He reached for it with his long, dirty fingers but
Kobayakawa pulled it away. The boy scowled. "Where do you think he got it?"

"Probably stole it." Minato put in.

"Yeah. That sounds right. He probably stole it." A pathetic loser like Shinji didn't
deserve a cool toy like this. Look at those teeth! Is that a machine gun for an arm?
"If he stole it it's okay if we have it. That's okay, right? If we share it's all okay."
He still planned on playing with it most, though.

"I didn't steal it!" Shinji said, his voice pitching up. "It's mine! Give it back."

"Bii-!" Minato stuck his tongue out at him. "Make us."

"Please give it back." Shinji begged. "I can pay you..."

"Ask it in English." Kobayakawa said haughtily. "Ask for it politely."

"Kood you pleese gib it back to mi?" he ground out. Could you please give it back to
me? He even bowed low.

"Hm..." The boys laughed. "No!"

Slowly, ever so slowly, Shinji raised his head. "Gib back da warboss."

They laughed and began to ignore him. They waved it in the air and made growling
noises.

"Gibbet!" Shinji said sharply.

Kobayakawa turned to see the smaller boy standing there, half-crouched and eyes
all wide. He laughed again. Someone so small and so mad. "No..." he said again,
all so slow and deliberate. What could he do?

-

"wwwwWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGH!" Shinji shouted and launched himself at them.

-

"AAAH! Get it off! Get it off!"

"He's biting my toes! Oh god why is he biting my toes?!"

"The pain! I did not know there could be such pain!"

Pain? What is this pain you speak of? Shinji had a busted lip, bruises all over, blood
spattering his uniform, maybe even a hairline fracture in his left arm. Through it all he
had this big, open-tooth, completely happy grin; total joy dancing across his face and
out through his fists. The adrenalin, that he only felt once before, he realized then
that he didn't have to risk killing himself just to get that feeling again.

"Get away from me!" Kobayakawa managed to push him away, sending Shinji tumbling
across the dusty street. He noticed that he still had the figurine in his hand. He
looked from it to the small boy slowly rising from the ground, with all the languor of a
hellcat.

He scowled and lifted his hand high, to throw the orkish figure down at the ground
and stomp on it; winning that way.

Shinji said something low, heartfelt, and threatening. Then, realizing they couldn't
understand it, repeated it in Japanese.

"I'll burns your houses, I'll choppas your cars, I'll stomps on yaz where I find yaz. I'll
smacks your townz, I'll throws your pets, I'lls rips ya to pieces!" He got up and
laughed, his jaw hanging down, in har-har-har manner. "GIMME BACK DA WARBOSS!"

"You're crazy!" Kobayakawa hoarsely shouted back.

"GIBBET, HUMMIE!"

"Here!" The boy threw the figurine at him. Shinji ignored it as it went sailing past his
head.

He grinned some more and made a lunging motion at them. The boys screamed and
fled.

Once they were out of sight, he dropped to his knees, drained and in blinding pain.
He shuffled over to where the warboss lay face-down on the concrete. A drop of his
blood fell on it as he bent down to pick it up.

"...good..." he whispered, his vision fading to black. "...not a scratch. I did good."
He rolled over and lay there by the road. "...i didz gud, dident i, warboss...?"

He decided it was a good time to go to sleep.

-

His guardians found him there, and in all panic rushed him to the hospital. They
screamed at the police, they screamed at the school officials, and at the parents of
the boys who were telling such out and out lies! After all, there were three of them!
And look at how they left Shinji! How dare they try and pass themselves off as the
injured party here? Shinji would never, never, attack someone. He was so shy and
well-behaved, everybody said so!

And so kind. Shinji actually insisted that the boys not be expelled. He was so firm
about it. He didn't want anyone to be in trouble. They had to have learned their
lesson.

The reputation of the three boys took a nosedive. No one wanted to play with them.
In the end, it took Shinji to approach them. Over time as it seemed he'd forgiven
them, they were accepted back into the community of kids. Even if they didn't call
Shinji, poor little easily-embarrassed Shiji, anything but Boss. He called them 'da boyz'
which, literally speaking, they still were.


-
-


School in post-Impact elementary was odd in that it taught history up to, but just
short of, Second Impact. The children might ask why the world was as it was, but
they would have to know it from other sources. They would not be given official
word until the next stage in education.

His final primary years were about rediscovering the finest stages in humanity's
history.This would have been when he discovered the more cultured eras, and
classical music. He would have found its haunting patterns more to his liking,
instruments uniting and falling, relics of a much more hopeful era. It was dead music
suited for a dead world. The past was gone under the seas, with all its frenzied
beauty. All that lay in the future for Shinji were ruins and damaged goods.

He would have known this, and was part of what would made him so depressed. He
could not imagine in what possible way things could be better. How could it possibly
compete to the sheer perfection of these concertos? How could it be anything but a
tarnished, imperfect reflection of these long dead? It made him believe that the
luckiest died in Impact.They died at the most glorious portion of humanity's history.
They would remain with it, and never know how ugly and uninspired the world could
be.

This Shinji, who saw Titans in the shadows of buildings and walking tombs in the
trees, had a much longer view. Compared to the bleakness of the 41st millenium,
it was still so much the better. He had faith in humanity, he was told how it could
rise and fall, burning anew like a phoenix from the ashes. History itself supported this.
That a cathedral once gilded now lay moss-stained and ruined was nothing to be sad
about. It was enough that the shape still remained. It was all the more impressive to
him, that it could still be so defiant against the tide of history.

It was only right and proper that things should fall into ruin. The greater the fall, the
farther to new heights man could reach again, climbing upon the remains of those
before.

TV was rare as he grew up, filled mainly with cheesy reruns and news reports. The
radio was slightly more lively, but the most cheerful of music didn't find its way into
the airwaves. J-pop; mind-melting, sugar-filled J-pop; was a vanished piece of
Japanese cultural heritage.

Shinji did not need the cello to chase away the silence of his bland hours. He and his
uncle played the game less and less, but they shared in its ambiance. His aunt was
no longer the remote spectre she was, and the house never seemed so tomblike. He
had been to tombs, he knew what that felt like.

His hobby, unsurprisingly, was sculpture. There was plenty of clay to be had and
there was an oven right there in the kitchen. It was a hit and miss process, and
he wasn't really all that good with it. His creations had a tendency to fall apart, as no
one had told him about frameworks and bracing. He acted as if it was one big secret,
and his guardians were careful not to make too much notice of it. It was certainly
nothing to be ashamed of, but Shinji was embarrassed easily. They supposed he was
ashamed his efforts looked very little like the miniatures.

"Shinji..." his uncle said finally. "The miniatures are made of plastic, not clay. Maybe
instead of sculpting them into something, you can sculpt them out of something." He
gave the boy a bar of bathing soap and a utility knife. It was the best gift he could
have been given, and it wasn't even his birthday! In a previous time, his uncle would
simply have given over money as a token gift during birthdays, in thinking logically the
boy could just go out and get what he wanted.

Affection proved a much better present.

Shinji didn't actually improve in his sculpting efforts, but became the cleanest,
sweetest smelling boy, ever, in his school.

-

In another place, Shinji would have saved up his money to buy a cello, being so
unwilling to present himself as a bother. Here he was comfortable enough with his
guardians to ask them for the money to get one, and so unwilling to lie (it displeases
the Emperor!) that he told them why. He was of course, red-faced and stuttering as
he said it.

For it turns out, that there was this girl, in the school band...

His guardians shared a look. So, it was about that time, eh? His uncle looked like he
had swallowed a prune, and ran out of the room. Shinji supposed it was indigestion.
His uncle went right out the house, and collapsed there, completely unable to contain
his mirth. Shinji had always been a serious boy, but now he was... GRIMLY serious.
He began to roll around.

That left his wife to just shake her head and sigh. She motioned Shinji to take a seat
by the table and explain. Her comforting, serious, motherly manner coaxed the
information out of him. She didn't tease him, or give on any tricks to win affection.
She made a mental note to make sure her useless husband didn't try anything.
Instead she just told him to make friends and find a common interest.

"That's why I need a cello, auntie." he said, nodding and likewise calm. "It's the only
position unfilled. If I own an instrument, I can get in sure."

"Ah, Shin-chan, but music isn't so simple. If you don't love music for itself, you'll never
succeed. And you would only dishonor yourself and the girl if you build your friendship
on a lie."

Shinji nodded. He knew all about honor. It separated humanity from the foul xenos.
One had to be ready to go to extraordinary lengths to defend it, even breaking a
world was nothing; rather than let it fall into the chaos of falsehoods, broken oaths,
sacriledge; dishonor.

His uncle came in, breathless, and saw the two sitting there with their backs straight
and hands folded over their laps, with faces placid andpolite. All that was missing was
for them to be sitting crosslegged, maybe throw a few big banners around, for it to
be all out of some samurai drama. He gurgled something that sounded like "BAhah-!"
and fled.

His wife shook her head again. Useless.

"Remember, Shinji, if you do go into practicing music, you need to see it through. No
matter what happens, no matter how difficult it is, even if you don't make friends.
Music is something that requires dedication all through your life."

The boy's eyes widened. She could not have phrased it any more attractively to him.
"I won't fail!" he said, puffing his chest out. "I'll give my life if that's what's asked!"

Shinji's aunt couldn't resist anymore. She pinched both his cheeks and cooed. "Shinji's
a good boy!"

Her husband finally managed to get back inside, saw Shinji's grotesquely distorted
face, and continued to be useless.

 

-
-
-

 

Unbeknownst to him, Shinji had gathered a few admirers at school. He wasn't all
that 'cool' to the boys, still something of a nerd; but to the girls he was more
appealing. It was by simple matter of selection.

First off, he was clean and orderly. Boys as a rule were dirty, sweaty and rude. Shinji
was not merely neat, he did so on his own without seeming to notice and without
looking a like a pretty boy. Orderliness without being told was the first sign of
maturity.

He was smaller than most of his classmates, but seemed more than them somehow.
His eyes were deep and unflinching, and he had a well of silent self-assurance.
Whereas he was once a recluse for the lack of it, now he was set apart because
he had too much of it.

He was mysterious that way, independent, aloof, they knew those he lived in were
not his parents and unfortunately that was fangirl fodder.

 

A Space Marine feared nothing, and his every step was to purpose. The books
however told little about the ways of human interaction, specially towards the
opposite sex. There, he was lost. If only she was more like the Adeptus Sororitas!
Then there would be no problem. He never thought women would any be weaker than
men.

Ever since the event years ago, in which he pulled out a singular Waaagh! that he
swore never to repeat, he had learned to keep his figurines at home. They were too
precious to risk, despite the emotional comfort they provided. He kept their existence
to himself.

In that, he was lost. He had no idea how to relate.

 

Shinji's little crush was a girl taller than him, and so delicate she looked like made of
flowers. He felt himself hesitating every time he even gets close to her. Though he
was smaller he feared as if his slightest touch could damage her somehow.

"Shinji?" her opinion of him. "That little weirdo? I don't know, he kinda creeps me out.
Always just standing somewhere, staring into the strangest things. I saw him stare at
a hose for like, almost an hour."

"Eeh, Minase-chan? So you WERE looking..." was the reply of another girl, her voice
peevish.

"Oh, just drop it, Acchan. Why are you asking me? I don't care."

It was just by accident he overheard. He would swear! He was just walking along
the bush. It wasn't stalking! Fortunately he was indeed very good being unnoticeable
when he needed to be. Like his father he was prone to obsessiveness, and now he
had found a new target.

 

-

 

"What should I do?" He paced the room and asked himself. He looked at the figures
at his desk and as his gaze rested on each of them could almost hear the Warboss
say ...'I dunno', the Space Marine '...have courage', and the Chaos Marine '... you're...
actually asking... ME?!"

He picked up the Farseer. "You're a girl. What should I do?"

'Shinji, I'm speaking only as a figment of your imagination.' her voice was almost at his
head. 'how do you seriously expect me to solve your problems?'

"Aah!" he began to spin around. 'What should I do?'

 

Learning about the school band was a fortunate turn of events.

 

-

 

He had his cello. He had a manual, and later his guardians would find him a teacher.
In the meantime, he put his stick to rest at a string and filled his head with illusions of
how he'd show her his skill in music, at how they would create music combining and
completing each other...

He slid it against that string and killed his eardrums.

"Aaaagh!" he screamed. It was horrible! It was impossible! She would hate him! Hate
him utterly!

He turned to the Space Marine at his desk. "Don't look at me like that. All right, I'm
not giving in to despair! I gave my word of honor!" And to the Chaos Marine up on the
shelf. "So you can just stop celebrating right there!"

Shinji couldn't really talk about it to his guardians, and so turned to the only
companions he knew he could completely trust. His old friend the Warboss was an
asexual being, and could only offer advice about 'stop overfinkin' and go bash
somefin'." A good dose of violence would let him forget ALL about this love foolishness.
It's so puny humie of him.

"I AM a human." he retorted.

"Yous a bloddy ork inside-" The warboss seemed to shake. "And don't you forge' dit.
Wez got da blood to prove it!"

The boy sighed and lay back on his bed. "She's never going to like a creepy, violent
crazy weirdo like me..."

The Space Marine continued to stare. "This uncertainty is unworthy of you." he
seemed to say. "Remember that doubt is for the dying."

"I agree!" an imagined voice that was harsher, even less forgiving than a Space
Marine's put in. "To lie to oneself is the first step into lying to others! Guard your
thoughts, boy. For such thoughts lead to Chaos!"

"Oh, Comissar-san!" Shinji noticed one of the regimental Commissars by the flowerpot.
He was orderly except for one thing; he was apt to pick up his figurines and absent-
mindedly place them back down one he has finished a 'conversation'. That was the
likely reason they were always all over the place. "Thanks. That really cheered me up."

"Yes... sure..." ground out the Thousand Son over at the shelf. "Gang up on me. I
have NOTHING to do with his thoughts; though I follow the Gods of Chaos, even I
find such whining disgusting. Why do you think we send so many cultists out as meat
shields? We will not suffer even such emos in OUR presence."

He was still confused, however. He was almost half-asleep when he heard a
commanding female voice say "To look too far into the future leads to madness. To
Hope is to be Disappointed. If you must plan, Shinji, then you must define your goal
and choose the paths that will lead to it. Choose the best future nearest, and see
only that future. Do the steps that will lead you to that. Then the next simple
outcome. And the next.

Only then will you find that which you seek."

He turned and saw a skirted figure near his head. "What do you mean, Farseer-
sensei?"

The other figurines made outraged noises at that suffix of respect, and various
warnings about never trusting an Eldar. Chaos, self-recognizing as evil and misleading,
was even the loudest at it. Shinji could almost feel her pride. His eyelids were heavy,
and through his wavering vision he could almost certainly see her turning her head
and lowering her arm from its salute with a sword. The Eldar placed her hands to her
hips as Shinji began to cross that boundary between sleep and wakefulness.

"Time is planning, Shinji. Many believe that the future is what you make of it.You
mon-keigh are determined to force fate to your whims." She radiated amusement.
"Only we Eldar see that the future is already set. The future only calls for events to
be altered to suit itself. It is the present that is malleable, never the future.

Do you want me to teach you?"

"Eldar witch!" the Space Marine spat. "I will not have him as your pawn!" The others
made similar statements.

"Silence! He is not your Emperor's! Not yet! I will not have his blood spilled just like
any other meaningless fighter in a meaningless Waaagh! I will not have his beautiful
soul consumed in Chaos! I WILL GIVE HIM WHAT NONE OF YOU CAN GIVE HIM!"
She turned to him and spake softly. His eyes already shut, Shinji could pretend freely
he felt the barest of pressure on his nose; like a tiny hand pressed upon it.

"I will give him a Choice. He will -know- just why it is he so willingly walks into Hell."
said the Farseer. "I will give you a mind forever voyaging, Shinji. Will you accept me
as your teacher?"

"S-sure, Farseer-sensei..." the boy mumbled in his sleep.

 

-
-
-

 

The Farseer stood over him, her cloak billowing in the breeze. The world was mist,
dense, endless. She stood tall and proud, her armor the fruit of thousands of years of
expertise. Her facemask looked even more severe, more disapproving than a Space
Marine's. That only made them look Angry, All The Time. The Eldar's pointed chin and
frown made him feel his insignificant years.

Maybe it was a bad idea. He knew full well he was dreaming, and even there he felt in
complete lack of control. What was a boy to an Eldar, a person thousands of years
old; even if it was one he imagined into being?

The Farseer reached into the back of her helmet, and unlatched it. Unseen seams
came apart with a hiss. She pulled up a bit, and removed her helmet to the front.
As her face revealed itself, with one last flick away from its darkly discouraging mask,
Shinji felt his heart stop.

There were illustrations, but they simply did not do her person any justice. She
was an Eldar, pointy-eared and arrogant in the supposed perfection of her Race.
Three thin red lines were marking the sides of her face, from eyes to chin, as if she
had been crying blood. Her lips were as red, as if she'd been drinking blood. Her skin
was smooth and seemingly glowing with an inner light, such was its silken fineness.

It was there Shinji recognized why he found Minase attractive. Her delicate, regal
features was the closest to living Eldar he had ever seen.

The Farseer smiled. It was an unnaturally beautiful, frighteningly serene smile.
"Shinji..." she said, her lips barely moving. "Clear your mind."

"..what?"

"The mind is full of noise, going hither and thither. The mind is a spoiled child. It is
without order, without structure. The mind is a journey. Is it freedom to just let the
wind and waves take you? To let yourself drift wherever it might take you on its
whim? Is to take the helm taking away from that freedom? Freedom, is choice. This
has always been the gift of the Eldar. To be able to decide where and when you want
to go. To take that future, and only that future you want.

You must clear your mind, if we are to begin."

She sat cross-legged on the imaginary ground, a wind helpfully setting her cloak
out of the way as she sat. It was a standard meditative seat. "Shinji, please sit."

The boy nodded and complied. He looked at her for a while, so deathly still, so
artistically perfect. A comparison to a spider would have been easy, as she was
wearing black and bone-white. Shinji could not compare her to any creature; she
was just as moonlight to him. Cold, but at the same time elegant light, hiding
flaws, enhancing grace, holding secrets.

She opened her left eye and slightly quirked her lips.

Shinji turned red and quickly shut his eyes. "Clear the mind... clear the mind..."
he muttered. She was right! It IS full of noise. Everything it seemed passed through
the forefront of his thoughts. It didn't help that he had completely memorized all the
codexes, every angle he could view the miniatures, the sketches, the novels.
Everything there, and constantly churned over in his mind, was what made him
capable of recreating the personalities of fictional beings so thoroughly.

He began to frown. He began to sweat.

"Aaah! This is harder than it looks!" he had to say. It's unfair that the Eldar could do
it so easily. Eldar seemed always at peace with themselves, without the internal
struggle of the mon-keigh. It was a point of irritation that the closest thing to it was
the simple crude mind, never without any insecurities, of an Ork.

"I would have been surprised if you succeeded in your first try, Shinji." Shelifted her
right hand and held it palm down in front of her. She then had moved it about in
gentle, swaying motions. "The mind is like a butterly. You can see it resting on a
flower, but it leaves. It goes where it will. But it comes back to that flower again.

It is perfectly all right to let the mind wander. As long as it returns. Then, the mind
may be taught to remain. All life, is suffering, Shinji. All suffering, is in the mind. Only
in the mind can one become free.

Take your time, Shinji. Time is meaningless here.

We can take as long as what proves necessary."

"Won't I just forget when I wake up?" He began to think of a butterfly. Come on
butterfly, don't move. Don't move. Ah! No... bad butterly! "This is a dream, right?"

"It is a dream, true. But a mind in control does NOT lose control. To wake is not to
disappear. To wake, is simply to BE, to exert even greater awareness of the mind, as
connected to body."

Eventually, Shinji realized that forcing the butterly to remain still actually encouraged
it to fly away. The butterfly, if left alone, will choose to return to the flower. It would
flitter away, then return. Away and back again. By ignoring it, Shinji knew that he
actually found the stillness he was looking for. Motion in stillness. Stillness in motion.

Time was indeed meaningless. It could have been minutes, or hours, or hundreds
of years before he came to that conclusion. Eons more as he learned to be satisfied
with it. That goddamn butterfly's never going to just stop at the flower. To fly IS the
natural state of the butterly. The flower's natural state IS to provide a place for a
butterly to rest.

"You're teaching me patience, aren't you?" he said after some time. "A clear mind
doesn't equal an empty mind. Only that it -knows-."

"Very good, Shinji. We Eldar meditate to bring out knowledge that we have always
known. You have always known this." She stroked at his mind and had him open his
eyes. "Now, come sit with me, and we shall learn how to apply it."

Shinji scooted closer and prepared to enter a meditative state again. The Farseer
stopped him. "No, I said sit with me."

"Um, so, closer then? Should I sit to the left or right?"

The Farseer patted her crossed shins, and motioned the boy to sit on her lap. Shinji
just -knew- his face was flaming, but the Eldar still had her eyes closed and seemed
unconcerned. Reminding himself that it was all just in the imagination, he complied.

 

She laid her chin right over his head, her long black hair flowing like dark rain to either
side of him. She grabbed his hands under her gloves and crossed them over his chest
in much the same way Pharaohs would have rested. Needless to say, Shinji had a
vastly more difficult time at achieving meditative serenity.

"The future... to reach for it, one must first define your goals. What do you want,
Shinji?"

"Want...? I want Minase to like me!"

The Farseer hmm'ed. He could feel the vibrations passing through the chestplate
and into his back; going deep and prickling into his spine. "Vauge." she said. "That is
not a goal, not even an idea. A future must be specific for it to happen."

He closed his eyes again and reached for that timeless calm. "Specific, huh? I want
Minase to SAY she likes me."

"Like you? In what way? Or for what?"

"Um, just LIKES me, I guess. I want to her her say someday, Shinji I like you.." Wait.
He could feel himself drifting. The was muddying the vision. "No... I want her to like
my music. She can like me later."

And then, it suddenly came all tumbling into his brain. It was all so obvious, in
retrospect. He gasped.

A myriad of possible futures, given what he already know of his classmates, his
teachers, his classroom, and what they might be doing. What he had imagined, was
hope. It was wish. What the Eldar had were a burden. The future was no mere
fantasy. It was a series of specific events happening at specific points in time
made by specific people. There is no 'might be'. There was only 'will be' or 'will not be'.
An event once past cannot be undone. It only reduces it further, the choices
available to it; closer and closer to one eventuality.

He can't predict Minase's movements or her opinions. He can mold events however,
to arrive at a specific scenario at a specific time. But to lock on to that ideal would
be to ensure it would never happen.

It was an odd paradox.

But there was a way out...

"What future do you reach for, young Mon-keigh?"

"I reach for no future, ancient Eldar. I see it, and it will come to me."

The Farseer kissed the top of his head. "And thus you have taken the first step
in a winding road once traveled by the Eldar."

 

-
-

Shinji taught himself how to plan ahead. He drew a line in the sand and took a leaf.
He held it above the line and felt the Farseer ask.'Now, which way will it fall? The
right or the left?'

"Left." he decided.

He let go of the leaf. It it drifted slowly down, twisting over in mid-air now and then.
It landed to the right.

No way! He had really, really focused on-

'Do not hope, Shinji. The future is not built on hope.' she admonished soundly. 'An
object does not move through time. It is time that flows around an object. The leaf,
the wind, even you, and here only you can make the choice and only you can create
the future that you desire.'

Shinji picked up the leaf and hed it up again, this time much closer to the ground over
the left side. "It will fall to the left." And so it did.

'What have you done, Shinji?'

"I saw the future I wanted, and -knew- the steps that would have it happen. This
was the simplest I saw."

'Well done. May your sight serve you well in the days ahead.'

 

-

 

People, because they made choices, were simpler to predict. It is unknown when
Gendo himself learned this, but Shinji for all intents and purposes, taught this
realization to himself. Information was needed to craft a scenario, for the future was
a series of steps, each of which built upon each other, reinforcing each other, until
finally there was no choice but to arrive at that outcome.

Shinji visualized a future in which his teacher would arrive and say "Sorry class, I...
overslept."

It was just a day after getting his cello. He did so by simply asking his teacher
"Hisoka-sensei, why don't we just move to China? They've got plenty of space over
there that they don't need."

"Um... shouldn't you be asking that of your Social Studies teacher?"

Shinji dropped his eyes. "I'm sorry, I just had to ask someone..." He backed away and
ran out of the classroom before his English teacher could say anything more.

And because he couldn't say anything so Shinji, had to say it to himself. It got stuck
in his mind as he went home. The boy watched him go. Shinji knew that Hisoka-sensei
lived in a small old home with a multi-generational family.

And he just knew that he would blurt it out to his wife, as thought things over on the
way home. And also somehow he just knew, that Hisoka-sensei's wife would bring it
up over the dinner table. And he could see, though the faces were blurry, Hisoka-
sensei's brother saying how stupid it would be; hadn't they learned from history? The
father would just shout out to shoot the bastards. All that land, and they wasted it,
most of their population died of starvation; not the rising seas.

But the Chinese might still have a few nukes stashed away!

And so do we!

And Hisoka-sensei would have sat there, as his stronger-willed family got to
shouting and debating. Each time he opened his mouth to speak, his father or his
brother would say something scathing to each other. His wife would just pat at
his hand and give him a look that said 'yours is the only word that I trust'.

He would kiss her that night, but try as he might, he wouldn't be able to go to
sleep or concentrate on much anything else.

 

-

 

The next day, he did arrive late, his clothes crumpled with hurry. His eyes were
bloodshot and weary. "Sorry, class..." he started to say.

"You overslept, Hisoka-sensei?" Shinji said suddenly. "It's okay."

The teacher laughed weakly. "Yeah, sorry class. I overslept. People do that from
time to time."

The children nodded, forgiving him instantly. They never wanted to get up early
either. Until then, they just assumed adults did so because they wanted to, but
even they were human. They paid a little bit moreattention in class that day.

Shinji caught him again by the end of the day. He felt guilty and just had to give him
back his nights.

"Oh, hello, Shinji, about what you said..."

"I'm sorry to be bother, sensei. But I just thought, we don't NEED to go to China after
all. We can use their land without taking it from them. That's selfish and bad. Can't
we ask for help somewhere else?"

The teacher's eyes widened. "Yes... that's what I thought too. We can just lease
it from them. They provide the land, we provide the seedlings, the technology and
the expertise. Yes, but the history between us is just too deep. But that approach to
America, now that's different! It might be farther away, but they actually have the
military power to protect their convoys. There would be less deliberate deal-breaking."
He stared down at the little boy. "That was surprisingly deep of you, Shinji."

"Um... sensei? You said all that stuff."

"Uh. Right. I guess I did." He began to laugh again, at seeing his own ridiculous
attention to the question.. "But such thoughts you have. You should apply yourself
more to schoolwork, Shinji. You're wasting your potential."

"T-thank you, sensei. I better be going now..."

The next day, Hisoka-sensei showed up early, smiling and well-rested.

 

-
-
-

Shinji had the better part of two months to be at ease, if not proficient, with cello to
make the band. It was certain he could improve more, as the whole point of the club
was to offer additional instruction, but he didn't want his first appearance there to
show him useless.

The first part was not to be ignored.

He didn't care about being noticed. He didn't care about the common interests.
First, he must elevate the level of attention. There was nothing about him known,
no true opinions formed. Only through his presenting what was expected could he
reliably guess at anyone's reaction towards him.

He knew this from his guardians. Were he to become suddenly willful and wild,
they would be at a loss on how to react, and most likely choose negatively. In a
long stretch of consistent action, though, his simple demands appeared reasonable.
In such context he found ways of making sure the could never say no.

For instance, just staying up until midnight. Any normal boy had to have a curfew for
school. Shinji had always woken up early, being easy to rouse. Now he did so on his
own. He practiced his cello at night, and always stopped on his own. Every day it was
a few minutes later. Then, he just stopped playing at night, just when he was getting
better at it. In their questioning next morning, he said that there was no way he
could get any better given his limited time. Night was no good. He didn't want to be
any bother.

"But Shinji, we're not bothered." He could synch his lips with what his uncle was
saying. "It's all right to play as you need."

"Yes, you gave your word to me, remember?" his aunt added impishly.

"I'm sorry..." he said.

She responded to that as well as he'd hoped. "Well on weekends you can stay up
as long as you like! You wanted this, and you should finish it!"

"I'll make you proud." he said just then.

He managed to barter to almost midnight for weekdays. It went as he had foreseen,
barring several changes in phrases and wording. It was a Scenario playing out in
his face. It astonished him. It humbled him. He had no power there; he was merely
a bit player in the affair, and the results being to his benefit mattered little. His
guardians jumped into the scenario of their own volitions, their own logics. He could
see other paths, but they never took them. They were false because his plan was
too expansive yet, too much being taken in. Emotions AND actions AND events were
taken into consideration. No, the future should happen at the tips of his fingers, and
he should never have had to fear or get excited by it.

As long as the Why escaped him his vision was imperfect.

The goal was not to make them proud. It would be a side-effect, to having achieved
proficiency in the instrument. The short-term goal was to gain more time to train his
physical movements, to have his muscle memory do all the work; it was the entire
point of learning from sheet music.

There was a reason the Eldar called their craft the MUSIC of creation. Music was
orderly, notes following notes, motions following motion. Every note was exactly
the same as all other notes before it. All the motions to produce these notes too
had to be exactly the same. It was the hardest part in learning to play, finding
muscular and mental consistency.

Shinji's music teacher remarked that he was astonishingly good. To the boy the
simple strains were nothing special. It was unlikely the schoolwould demand
anything that much more complicated. It was easy, because of his memory. There
was a finite series of movements possible in the cello, and a finite series of perfect
sounds. He knew what motions produced those perfect sounds.

He wasn't fooled by the presence of a 'song' or a 'piece' in the exercise. What
mattered was each note. The whole could carry itself. Each note had in his mind
the corresponding perfect sound. He no longer needed to hear his cello to know
when he was playing correctly. He could practice at any time, at any place, just
endlessly repeating those chains of motions; immune to the touch of boredom.
School was tedious, with all the lectures and note-copying. Music, with its
predictable end, was engrossing in how it kept the illusion of change. Once done
perfectly, he had to do it again, for perfection was in itself beauty and worthy
of being experienced again and again.

Music was perfect like nothing else could be, except mathematics, of which music
was likewise an expression of.

The future he saw was not of being incredibly good in music in such a short time,
but it happened anyway. The greatest barrier to the learning of music was the
irritation in forgetting the parts, in sour notes, in the sheer repetetive nature
of practice. To Shinji, expecting perfection so soon was unwise. Perfection
built upon smaller things. His music teacher gave him more and more complex
pieces, as he showed a hunger for the classical. Where in a different time the
boy may have played to forget, here he played to remember.

 

-

 

He had no fear the day he showed up for audition. Everything unexpected comforted
him in knowing that the future was growing closer and closer to one inescapable
end.

He didn't believe his teacher's praises. He was no genius. What he did was merely
the wraithsong of crafters long since passed away. He merely followed their
instructions, shaped by the music as much as he shaped it. Ego was the second
most crippling barrier to the pursuit of music.

The music teacher was an old, thin man named Asano. He was already there,
listening to the audition. He seemed in obvious pain just from the over-
enthusiastic trashings of a trumpet-playing boy.

"This is not that type of band, Asagiri-kun." the old man sighed. "If there is
place for you in this band, we will let you know."

"Oh, you're here too, Ikari-san?"

Shinji turned to see a mousy-looking girl with short braided hair standing near
him. He nodded, and furrowed his brows a fraction at seeing a cello in her hands.
"You're... Mitsugane Ayane-san." he said.

"You know me?" she asked, her eyes widening.

"You're Houko Minase-san's friend." He briefly glanced towards the girl, there
too, looking bored. She had to be there though, as the nominal leader of the
band.

Ayane's expression fell into guarded neutrality. "Oh. Her. Yes, I am her friend."

"It's good to have friends sharing your hobbies." he put in with a slight smile.
"I wasn't aware there was already someone at the cello, though."

The girl looked down at her instrument, and embarrassedly made as if to hide it
behind her back. "No, no. I'm just trying out too. This is my first time playing
with Minase-chan."

"How long have you been playing?"

"A.. year or so now. I only transferred here from Nerima-2, you know. Or maybe
you don't know..." she let her bangs fall over her eyes. "I played at for the
school there, too."

Actually, he did know. He just couldn't say so without revealing he'd been going
around all stealth Ranger on Minase and all the people she knew, gathering
information. At least he wasn't at the peeping, telescoping sight stage yet.
Privacy was not something the Eldar valuedor respected. Every bit of his time was
occupied, this Shinji had little to be bored or despondent about. He felt
absolutely wired, as his plans all became tangled into one unfolding scenario.

How had he missed this? He supposed it was simply because he had never heard her
practicing. An unexpected hitch to her plans, but then that was the part that
delineates a mere Seer from a Farseer.

He went into music for friendship and friendship he shall have. He smiled. "I'd
love to hear you play."

"Next!" shouted Asano-sensei.

"Please, go ahead." Shinji stepped aside.

"B-but." She made a slight grimace.

He felt a string of what should have been. He allowed the Farseer in pocket to
guide his voice. "Music is music, and must be loved where it is found. In sincere
hearts and loving hands, it cannot be anything but perfection."

She turned away quickly, and walked over to the front of the room. She faced the
teacher, keeping her back to Shinji, and played. The boy closed his eyes. She was
good, her practice showed. He music was fast and lively, and without hesitation.
It was perhaps a little rushed in places, but it didn't take away from its spirit.
In the tilt of her shoulders he could see she felt it, drew out the music from her soul.
She tried so hard, put all her heart into it.

Asano-sensei merely nodded, and bade the other cello-holder to the makeshift stage.

 

He played a simple tune, there at audition. He showed no expression, no artistic
changes of expressions, no impressive flourishes. He stood there, said "My name
is Ikari Shinji, and I play the cello." He closed his eyes and called the perfect
notes from the warp of his memory.

He closed his mind and let time cease. He just let it flow. Even his hearing closed off,
even his tendons did their motions all unknowing.

He didn't know what he played or how long he played it. Asano-sensei's face
remained impassive, Minase's almost frowning. Ayane, through her glasses, could
only stare at him in mute disbelief.

Ookay. Farseer? What in the Warp just happened to my plans? What just happened?

"Hm... I don't know." The music teacher turned to the pupil he considered his prodigy.
"Minase, what do you think?"

The girl shrugged, and flicked aside her long black hair. Her face was still in that
pretty, slightly haughty set. "Well, I think I like it."

Asano-sensei nodded and turned back to the boy. "All right, Shinji. You want in?
You're in. We'll keep Mitsugane as a backup." He stood up from where he was
sitting on a desk and gathered the folders there. He tucked his papers under his
arms. "You two report here next practice. Houko, tell them the schedules." He
made his way out the door, and left.

"Don't mind him" said Minase. "He acts strict, but really not. Practice is every
day at five-thirty, even on Saturdays and Sundays." She stood up and stretched
out, her starched white uniform stretching out interestingly. "Well, I got things
to do. Coming, Acchan?"

Ayane blinked and looked from her to him. "Um..." Fortunately the sunlight had a
reflective glare off her glasses. Shinji nodded slightly, as if thanking her. "Um, sure!"
She hurried to pack her cello and was actually the first out the door."

 

Shinji was left there, alone in the music room. "What just happened?" he wondered
again.

 

The problem of Uncertainty as applied to time was that one can never truly know
-anything-. Time, as the fourth dimension, had the special properties of relativity.
One may see what something is doing in time or where it is going; but not both. If
it seems so clear and apparent, then both parts of the vision are flawed. As he
reached the cusp of his scenario, his awareness and control over it vanished utterly
even as it reached the conclusion he had wanted. It was this that made FarSeeing an
Art, rather than a Science.

"Perfection..." he felt an ancient voice whisper. "A future perfectly arrived at. There
are no grand plans, no fortune-telling. There is only the what is, blending into the
now. Such is the music of the Eldar."

"My music is the pillar upon which whole worlds have been built..." he whispered back.
He understood at last.

 

Hmm.. if was going to play the cello, he thought about getting some white gloves.
Perhaps also some orange-tinted sunglasses, if he was going to keep standing out in
the dramatic sunset.

Nah, that would look ridiculous. It was so poseur. Who wears stuff like that?

For some reason he also felt that made the Farseer cackle madly.

 

This was the childhood of Shinji Ikari. It could have been worse, and he was thankful
for it. He had friends. He had family. He had friends. He had accomplishments. He had
friends (it bears repeating). But soon enough, it had to end.

Years passed, he grew, and graduation time was around the corner. He entered his
teenage years. In its confusion not even his plastic advisers, being extensions of his
perception, could help. The ork never had to worry about puberty, the Space Marine
had genetic enhancements for that sort of thing, to Chaos it was just mutation, and
the Farseer was a girl. Strange urges, mood swings, and the world being suddenly so
slow... he needed someone other than himself to tell him how things made sense.
Books helped, to an extent. But here Shinji realized he needed his father.

Surely his father would come to his graduation, right? As the day grew closer, Shinji
became more and more expectant. It's something that only happens a few times in a
person's life after all. The boy had actually managed up to second in school, just
below Houko Minase in grades and everything else. Many of his teachers believed he
could have been more, had he been a bit more focused. He was such an absent-
minded kid.

He couldn't visualize that future, as he actually had very little idea of how his father
looked like anymore or of what he did.

A few days before graduation, there was a knocking on the door. Shinji answered it,
and found there two men standing. They had one crisp black suits, black sunglasses,
and each carried a small black suitcase. One seemed older than the other, pale and
grey-haired. The other had the tan of someone who spent much time in the beach or
open seas.

"Wah! Yakuza!" cried Shinji, at seeing them.

"See? See? That's what I'm talking about." The younger, and taller man said to his
companion. "Just once, just once! I'd like to have someone NOT think we're the
goddamn Yakuza. Why can't we wear white suits instead?"

"What, and have people go 'AAAAH! It's the Gay Mafia!' It tends to scare them even
more."

"... you tried that once, didn't you?"

"... shut up, Jiro. If you've been in this business as long as I did..." He turned to the
boy and asked him in a gravel voice. "Are you Ikari, Shinji?"

"Y-yes sir."

"I am Agent Kentaro, and this is Agent Jiro. Section Two. Is your uncle in?" There was
nothing there, no expression at all as he talked, only the boy's own nervous face
reflected off his sunglasses. "We'd like to talk to him. Official government business."

"I.. I'll go see." Shinji bolted away from the door.

-

As it turns out, they WERE government agents. And they were THERE on official
government business. Only this had the stamp of Gendo Ikari allover it.

"We're here to check on the boy." his uncle was told. "How's he holding up?"

"What, Gendo can't even see how it is about his own son? You know he hasn't
bothered even once these years to ask, so why should he care now?"

"Mister Ikari is a very busy man." replied Agent Kentaro. "He cannot just drop his
important duties for something so small. It would be dangerous to show so much
attachment, his child could be used as a hostage against him. This is why he cannot
risk coming here and revealing his location."

"Bullshit." his uncle said. "The bastard can't even show ANY attachment."

Agent Jiro looked from the relative to his own partner. "Uh.. look, I know he's...
difficult to get along with sometimes, but could please not say things like that about
our direct superiors to our faces? It might..." He stared long and hard at his partner's
cold professional facade. " ...complicate things. Mr. Ikari requires respect."

"Phff. The name Ikari used to mean better things..." Shinji's uncle leaned back on his
chair, but his hands were shaking slightly.

"Answer the question, please. How is the boy?" the other continued.

"Shinji?" His uncle thought carefully. Gendo wouldn't send his thugs over for something
so small, sadly enough about family that was true. "He's a pretty normal kid. That's
about it."

"Are you sure? He has not been... mistreated in some way?"

"Just what are you implying?" he bristled.

"Mister Ikari only wishes to make sure that his son recieves all the proper attention
due to him." Very little, but not too little. It was a large part of his plan. "It would be
unfortunate if he was damaged in some way."

Shit. The way they went on about Shinji as nothing more than an object. Just what
was going on here? "He's a kid, that's about it. Ask around. Ask him. Gendo threw him
here to keep him out of the way, and if that's the furthest he can show about his
concern then he can just go fuck himself."

"Please!" said Jiro suddenly. "Not to our faces!"

Crap. 'You're both wired, aren't you?' he mouthed. They nodded.

"Gendo? You're an asshole!" Shinji's uncle shouted at them, his words in no way
mistakable to their recorders. "And I thank the gods in heaven that your son is
absolutely NOTHING like you!" Then looking up to their faces. "That's it. Now get out."

That seemed to satisfy them somehow. "We'll be in touch."

-

Hiding and listening in by the door, Shinji took in deep breaths. He had always
believed his father had some reason for leaving him, and sometimes he had bleak
thoughts about it. It was his first direct confirmation of being unwanted, though. He
was too much a burden.

Silently, he went back up to his room. He just didn't know how to feel about that.

 

-
-

In post-Impact Japan, just because school was ending and most of the tests were
done, was no reason for the children to start slacking off. The school board devoted
the final weeks towards community-building, sending the children out in various
cultural pursuits designed to bring them closer to the society they belonged to.
Usually this meant cleaning up the still-standing pre-Impact buildings, planting new
trees, and various other tasks in free labor.

He pitied the boyz outside. Eh, he'll pick up a watermelon later.

Shinji and the others in the music club were luckier in that they were allowed to stay
indoors; being part of the artistic side of the school's contribution. He grinned a little
at a joke their pianist made. Music was the only real common interest he shared with
normal children. He had succeeded in his plan to become friends with Minase, and in
her friend Ayane found someone he could more easily talk to. He wasn't blind. He
could see her liking for him; but she was just so... plain. Her hair, her glasses, her
dress, all made her seem stumpy in direct opposite to Minase's tall lithe form.

He lost what she was trying to say as he saw the agents... well, they were just so
nondescript that even he had difficulty remembering their names; agents J and K at
the school courtyard. From the second floor, he could just make out that they were
talking to his English teacher.

Interrogating most of whom he knew wasn't the sort of attention you gave to
someone unwanted. He tuned out the world. It was a paradox, and the Eldar in him
hated paradoxes.

 

After school, he cornered Hisoka-sensei again. It was well know that he favored
Shinji above most students, mostly because they seemed to have the same reserved,
retiring personalities. He always just let Shinji initiate these little interactions, to
himself amusedly surrendering control.

"Do you know my father?" Shinji asked then.

The teacher licked his lips. The boy had the oddest habit of asking such simply-
phrased but difficult questions. "No, Shinji. I do not know your father."

"Those men you were talking to earlier. They work for him."

He nodded. He had long since stopped wondering how Shinji knew about things. The
boy was so naturally curious, his thoughts drifting to the oddest of things. He never
imagined it could possibly be calculated to provoke a specific response. "They were
asking about you. I tried not to be too effulgent in my praise."

That was a private joke. They both knew just how much Shinji hated to be the center
of attention.

"My father sent them. If he wants to start noticing me again, I should know
something about him." the bitterness in the boy's voice was unfeigned.

"Shinji..." Why was it that he felt so utterly out of his depth when he speaks to this
child, no.. slowly turning into a young man? It puzzled him and exhilarated him. He
shouldn't feel so challenged by someone at least a decade younger. "Your father is
an important man. For you to realize how important, know that almost no one knows
ANYTHING about him. He doesn't appear on the lists of the world's most important
people. He never goes on TV. Very few even know what he LOOKS like. I only know
because he tried living here for a while."

"He did?"

"Yeah, at your uncle's house. Your uncle threw him out pretty quickly. It was a short
time, while he was between jobs and your mother had to support him." He shook his
head at the boy's wide-eyed expression. "Sorry, Shinji. I never even knew your
mother. Her sister only married into this town."

The boy flinched as if stabbed, but nodded for him to continue.

"Look, the most I know is that your father is out doing something very very important
for a very very big organization." He decided to add something for the boy's sake.
"It might even save the world."

-
-

His graduation was supposed to be a joyous time. Parents were supposed to bask in
their children's achievements, and the children in passing that treshold realize how
they changed and be prepared to be treated differently. But mostly it was about
celebrations. Life in the post-Impact era had little to celebrate, as the planet and its
people would take a long time to heal. The progress, the confirmation of a new
generation to carry their legacies was well within that reason to exult.

Shinji brought all four of his favorite miniatures to school. He had somehow managed
to keep his toys a secret from everyone; the furthest anyone ever went was the
boys those years ago... and they were entirely too willing to blank out the experience.

He fidgeted in his seat. The rites were perhaps unnecessarily long, full of speeches
about future and glory and hope and coming together and please vote for me next
election. He drew emotional support from the presence of Warboss-sama, Space
Marine-dono, Chaos Marine-kun and Farseer-sensei. Their snarky remarks all through
the proceedings made it all worth it somehow.

It dragged on until it was time to hand out those little slips of paper that would
permanently kick them out of their classes. He felt as if electrified until it got up to
his name.

He went up to the stage to recieve it, met by his uncle who gave him a deep bow.
He bowed back. Then, back to his seat.

The feeling didn't fade, not until the very last instant, the very last congratulations,
and they were all outside in the sunset. He winced as a sunbeam got into his eyes.
Dramatic, yeah right. He regretted not asking for those damn orange-tinted glasses,
even if he'd outgrow them rather quickly. Even if he'd look silly in them. He rubbed at
his eyes.

He looked around, past every happy parent and simply exhausted young teen. His
guardians let him even roam around a little.

Shinji returned, his face an emotionless mask. "He didn't show..." he muttered numbly.

"I'm sorry, Shinji." said his aunt. Shinji looked nothing like Gendo right then.

"I shouldn't have Hoped." the boy continued. "I really shouldn't. I had no way of
-knowing- wheter or not he would show up."

Shinji's uncle clasped the boy's shoulder and patted it reassuringly. "Not to worry,
we're here, ah? I don't know what your father must be thinking but he's going to
regret not being here. Come on, let's get something to eat. Chin up! You're a high
schooler now!"

Shinji tilted his head, as if listening to something. His eyes cleared. "Yeah, courage.
I'm a high-schooler now!" He even grinned. "Excuse me, uncle. I have to do
something."

-

It didn't take long for him to find Minase and her parents. They were rich and stood
out out from the sea of sensible clothing. He steeled himself and walked right up to
them. "Houko-san!" he shouted, his voice breaking at the end.

Three sets of calculating eyes turned to him. He repressed a squeak. It was like being
in the presence of the Inquisition! Shinji turned his gaze down and adressed the girl.
"May I talk to you, Houko-san?"

"Mina, who's your little friend?" cooed her mother, almost a jade figurine herself in all
that green lace. Her father seemed to look past the boy, instantly dismissing him.

She sighed. "Mother, father, this is Shinji Ikari. Please excuse us, we won't be but a
moment."

They moved aside and there the girl waited with narrowed eyes. She'd been brought
up to consider her time as precious, specially when it is spent in the company of her
parents. It was simply rare when they were all together; a condition shared by many
families in the scattered employment of post-Impact industries.

"So, we're like high-schoolers now." he blurted out. "And I thought maybe now we
could go out... as friends! As friends! Um, yes. Celebrate and eat strawberries or
something." He was feeling a double dose of embarrassment. Not only did he burn in
his own daring humiliation, his four other pieces were groaning with and AT him. "We
can invite Acchan if you want..."

Minase sighed and looked above his head to where her parents were; their eyes
twinkling with merriment. She sighed again and grabbed his arm. She pulled him off to
a more private spot, uncaring of how that might look.

And there, she took a deep breath. She looked straight into his oddly hopeful eyes
and said; "Look. You're right. We're teenagers now. And I've just had about enough
of your little elementary attentions!"

Shinji's mouth hung open.

"I tolerated it back then because it was kinda cute, but it's getting annoying. I don't
want you following me around in junior high. Don't take it too hard. Why should I go
out with a short little weirdo like you when there's already someone cool waiting for
me at the next school? You're only going to make yourself look even more foolish
trying to compete.

Why don't you just go out with Aachan and get it all over with? You both deserve
each other anyway."

She flicked back her hair and walked away. She nodded to herself. Yes, fast, hard,
clean. It was the kindest thing she could really do. Better have him hate her a little
than pine away uselessly. That way her two friends can actually move on.

It was going to be high school, after all. Things would be a lot different; more people,
more things to reach for. She could find better ones, more suited to her.

"Let's go, mother, father." she said in her sweet voice. "Best not to waste any more
time here."

 

-

 

"T-that was..."

"What in the Warp?"

"Waddahel? Wadda wada!"

"I... am speechless. Completely, utterly, speechless."

Well, that was totally unexpected. A miniscule part of his brain prodded him about
being totally spontaneous, acting on his feelings. He never saw THAT coming.

The shock was wearing off. And there's the pain. And now the "WHAT DID SHE SAY?!"

"Shin-"

"None of you will talk. None."

The young teen stalked over back to where everyone else was, his limbs hesitant as
rubber. Someone recognized his small frame easily.

"Hey! Boss! Hey!" Kobayakawa gleefully made his way over to him. "How's it feel, hey?
We made it! My parents really like my grades now, thanks for that, boss." He nodded,
though Shinji had yet to respond. "I saw yas going with Minase. First rank and second
rank, sounds good huh? How'd it go?"

Shinji looked up with a hollow gaze. "..."

Though round and considered somewhat stupid-looking, he wasn't that dumb about
matters right outside the books. "Ouch." He scowled. "You want the boyz to do
something?"

"No." Shinji shook his head slowly, trying desperately to clear his thoughts. "Neva hits
a girl. Only puny grots need to slappa someone weaker."

Kobayakawa nodded. He swallowed Shinji's words like gospel. It was he that started
the trend of calling Shinji boss. However, it wasn't until the boy forgot and lapsed into
another mode of speech that it really stuck in. Shinji was a scary little dude when he
had to be. That however was nothing; to da boyz he was scary in how much he knew.
Whatever question they asked, he had an answer for. He set them up a standard of
behaviour that had them using their strength to help others rather than push them
around. Da Boyz, as they became known, were anti-bullies. They went around
stompin' da respekt back into other would-be thugs.

Shinji was Da Boss. No ifs, no buts. What he says goes. It was very small gang that
knew, and that was the secret that bound them together. Outside, the world saw a
polite, obedient little boy growing into a fine young man. When around his boyz and
no one else, he could relax, laugh and shout. And he told great stories. 'Ere we go!'
was Da Boyz chant, as they walked the streets. 'Ere we go, were we go, not gonna
knows till we gets dere!'

He owed Shinji more than he felt he could actually repay. He actually got da respect
from the littler kids and gud feelins' from those bigga. Kobayakawa could never gotten
that the old way of doing things. Da Boyz got their own subsidiary formations of littler
boyz, and the Gretz as a messenger squad. It was a community within a community, a
select brotherhood of, well... boys (plus a few particularly awesomely ferocious girls),
and it felt good.

"She sedd somefin' about a high-skoola waitin' for her." Shinji said absently. "Have a
lookat dat."

"Sure thing, boss!" Kobayakawa enthusiastically replied, almost snapping into a salute.
"You want us to stomps on him for a little bit?"

"Nah, just... curious. Just gather information." His gaze was so far away again. Da
boss had a tendency to space out like that. The boyz took that as a sign of dismissal.

Da Word passed quickly, and even as they went home they were happy at getting a
direct order for a change. Things to do tomorrow, some hearts were singing. Things
to do! Purpose and sense of belonging post-Impact fulfilled a most basic human need.

 

Shinji returned to his guardians, a fake smile plastered to his face. "Okay, that's done.
Let's go home."

 

-
-

 

He was not going to go throwing things. He was not! Mostly because the only things
he could throw were his figurines and they were too valuable to waste on some little
fit.

Shinji grabbed at the sheets of his bed and pulled at it until almost tearing.
"rrraaaaAAHHHH!!" he snarled out. He then slammed his face into it, letting it soak his
tears.

He had never felt anything so ugly. It swallowed everything. He dimly remembered
saying it was better when there was nothing he liked. When you valued nothing, you
were like, invulnerable.

"So you would rather not feel anything at all? That is foolishness." counseled the
Farseer. "Nothing remains unchanged by the music of creation."

"Leddit out, lil'boz. Nuddin's going to makes ya feel better dan a good STOMPIN'!
WAAAAGH!"

"How could she do that to me?" the teen sobbed. "Am I really such a bad person?
Sure, I'm scrawny and weak, but..." He wailed. "Shinji is a Good Boy!"

He felt a mental slap.

"Get ahold of yourself, commander! You're getting emo! You're breaking the fourth
wall!"

Shinji stopped to catch his breath. He blinked.

"wait... what did you say?"

"I said.. uhm." The Space Marine seemed to squeeze his face in concentration under
the dim night lights. "Get ahold of yourself. You're granted some ammo. Prayer may
cleanse the soul, but pain purifies the body. What does this prove, but that the soul
is weak? Only in pain and suffering do we stoke the fires of our spirit."

"Endure." said the Eldar softly, as if her pain resonated with his. "And in enduring
grow strong."

The young teen sat back up on his bed and sat there cross-legged. He took several
deep breaths. No. The pain was still there. The rage was still there. Nothing he could
do would simply make it go away.

"Why do you all sound little more respectful now?" he asked after a while. "You never
gave me titles before."

"Am I not your protector? Am I not born from the depths of your mind? You are the
Primarch of my will, the bastion of my discipline! Command me, and I obey."

"Wez ya thoughts, hummie. Ya saids to shaddap, so we did." The warboss radiated
disdain at the wordy gothic parlance. See? Short, to the point, orky. That was da
proppa way to talk.

"Never have we been anything but your helpers, Shinji." The Farseer seemed to
curtsy. "What pleases you, pleases us. What hurts you, hurts us."

"We felt it aall." came an oily presence. "All of us. Your pain! It is OURS." Shinji looked
up at the Chaos Marine standing on the shelf, its bolter still crossed over its chest.
Its scarred face still looked fierce, but also oddly at peace. "She HURT you, and we
know how it is to hurt. The only way to make it go away, is for HER to hurt back."

Imaginary shouts erupted all around the room.

"Foul spawn of Chaos!" The Space Marine was understandably the loudest among
them. "I knew this! I knew this day would come. I knew you would wreak your
temptations, but I say NAY! You will not succeed this WAY!"

"Wot da zog?" The Warboss seemed to stare cross-eyed at the lyrical turn. "Look, just
come down so I can stabs ya." he told the Chaos Marine. "Ma lil'boss is no squig-head
to go stompins no puny feemale."

"He will not turn" the Eldar said in all confidence. "It is easy to See the failed methods
of Chaos."

Shinji hadn't realized it until then, but it was raining outside. In a brief flash of
lightning, the Chaos Marine seemed to turn its head and sneer.

"So he is to just accept it? Become a whipping boy? He is meant to be abused and be
glad for it, a martyr without a cause?" The Chaos Marine began to laugh, booming for
such a tiny figure, competing with thunder outside. "Where is the respect, ork? Where
is the justice, astartes? And where, you soggy old witch, is his choice?!"

The three could not answer.

"She disrespected you, bright lord, and it is only justice to let her see the error of her
ways. It is your choice to be a WIMP or heed the call of POWER. Your education is
incomplete, intentionally so. THEY wanted to keep you WEAK."

"That is a lie!" screeched the Farseer. "I taught him all that he needed to know!"

"Did you? He may have needed only that much THEN, but this is NOW. Can you teach
him all that he CAN do?"

"Just because one can... does not mean one must..."

"PAH! You all disgust me. I can complete your education, bright lord, and show you
how to command rather than be commanded, to take rather than be deprived, to be
revered rather than reviled!"

"Um... isn't all that like, evil? I'd rather not do anything that will get me thrown in
prison, thanks anyway."

"You -know- us, Shinji. Evil is a LABEL that only given by the other side. It cannot be
TRUSTED to be impartial. People will tell you that evil is a slippery slope, and good a
mountain. It is hard to do good, while so many do evil. This only says the natural
state of man is EVIL." The Chaos Marine seemed to grin. "Are YOU evil?"

"Hell, no I'm not evil!"

"It can also mean INSTEAD that there are great goods, little goods. Great evils, little
evils. There are many things, EVIL THINGS one can do to serve a Greater Good, but
one must ask WHOSE good? The Imperium and its corpse of a God, the Orks and their
ongoing widescale murder, the Eldar and the many souls they so easily send to
ignorant doom - MANY might call us ALL evil. We are only GOOD in the sight of those
we serve. Methods are equal, it is the goal that casts it all in its light."

"Those are excuses. I'm not going to start worshipping Chaos and wishing harm to
Minase-san." said Shinji with conviction. "I don't like the Dark Gods you serve."

The Chaos Marine laughed even more. "Bright lord, it is YOU that I serve. I am only
EVIL if and when you are evil. I am your SERVANT and only your will is my CREED. I
am CHAOS! I am neither Good nor Evil. Chaos bids me serve you, and serve you I
SHALL. I ask for NOTHING. I require for you to do NOTHING.

I give you ALL, for such is the favor of CHAOS. It is already IN you, my bright lord,
and it is how I speak. It is in you my bright lord, and it is the POWER that you SEEK."

"W-why do you keep calling me bright lord?"

"Are you like the Dark Gods I once served? You are bright and limitless my lord. I will
not ask as to their GOOD or EVIL, you shall shine either way. Ask for justice, and I
shall give you justice. Nothing more. Nothing less. CHAOS shall serve you well."

Shinji was dumbstruck. He -knew- these conversations were all just in his head, he
-knew- he did so to entertain himself, he -knew- their advice so far had been useful
as they opened up possibilities he normally wouldn't think of. ACCURATE is the only
way he could have described them thus far.

Outside the rains still fell, and the sounds of a wounded nature continued to be the
breath of an enraged wolf at his windows.

He had never expected his fantasies to turn out to be so thorough. He HAD been
doing it for years now. He exhaled and sat up. "What can you do?" he asked it.

He could feel its triumph. He could also feel the truth in every single thing it said.
Chaos was not an evil separate from him. His figurines could not, ever, force him to
do any action against his will. It was his delusion, and it was only his choice to allow
said delusions.

"The last half of what the Eldar has wrought. That which continues to escape you."

The young teen stood up.

"Wassat? Whys you lissnen' to dis Chaos-boyz? No need to make stuff all complicated
and wot. Just bash somefin'! You'll feel betta, you'll see."

"Commander, no! Chaos promises many things, and always have they led into ruin.
Even the greatest of us all could not stand uncorrupted by its touch. Do this, and
forever will it hold a piece of your soul."

"Shinji! Remember!" the Farseer cried out, the most desperate among them. The Eldar
knew its warping influence. Against it even their Sight could avail them not. Only the
mon-keigh and their defiance of fate seemed able to beat it back; but always at cost
of in themselves being the monsters they battle. "We may only offer our advice, but
ultimately it is you who must do these things. It is you and only you that must suffer.
Turn back now and or these thoughts will consume you!"

"I don't care!" shouted Shinji. He shot up to his feet and snatched the Chaos Marine
off its shelf. He walked over to the window and stared at the howling darkness
outside. He put the figurine down.

He stared at his own reflection in the glass. He was barely more than a boy just yet,
his frame without physical power. The Chaos Marine stood there in mute steadfast
obeisance.

Lightning flashed. Everything in nature, everyone he has ever seen, seemed more
capable and more powerful than he was. No one truly wanted him; his guardians
ached for their son, his father had no need for his own, and the first one he ever
opened his heart to ripped his hopes to unrepentant shreds.

"Show me."

"As YOU desire, bright lord..."

 

-

He slept well that night, no dreams at all. He stewed in his own newly-discovered
brand of hate. In another time, he would have known it much earlier. But only here
was it pure and malleable.

 

-
-
-
-

 

It was a bright and fresh morning. There was nothing like a little light rain to make the
world seem clean and new. Colors seemed more vibrant, the air clear and sweet.
Shinji woke up late, for once. His guardians had let him sleep in as a recognition of his
slow change. He was no longer a child to be coddled so.

He woke up and all was silent. "...guys?" his looked over to his plastic miniatures, and
in the morning glow they were motionless plastic. It was the first time in many years
that Shinji was alone in his thoughts.

Even the Chaos Marine had nothing to say. Fear gripped Shinji.

"Oh come on. Do you all hate me or something?" There was no response. The young
teen sighed. He shook out the last scales of sleepiness from his body and walked over
to the window. He opened it up and let the air in. He took a deep breath.

The world was all anew. Yesterday seemed so far away. Yes, he supposed he was
just being silly. He could easily live without Minase. He was to be a high-schooler. He
supposed he was just growing up, and no longer had to rely on something else to do
his thinking for him.

"Congratulation, Shinji." said his uncle over breakfast. "How do you feel?"

He paused and really thought it over. "Empty, somehow."

The man smirked. "Yeah, it's because you've been doing the routine so long that you
don't know what to do without it. But change is good, Shinji. Now you can do exactly
only what you want. You're going to go back to the old habits when the classes start
again anyway." He waved at the air. "Best to enjoy this while you still can."

Shinji nodded, agreeing utterly.

-

Mitsugane Ayane knew where Ikari Shinji lived. She been over to it a few times, but it
was the first she would head over alone and on her own volition. Her nerves were at
a chaotic frenzy as she walked the path. "What will I say?" she asked herself. "Oh,
this is so hopeless." She barely had any concentration left over to avoid puddles in
her path.

Music drifted from Shinji's window. It was fast, as usual perfect in its chain of notes,
but somehow now held more passion... angry, bursting with energy, was the only way
she could describe it.

She didn't know what expect at seeing him, and was relieved he looked calm and
without puffy eyes. Of course, she thought, boys don't cry themselves to sleep as
she had. She wished if only she could suffer it for him; oh my could it have actually
worked?

"Mitsugane-san, hello." Shinji smiled politely, but he seemed diminished somehow.

"Uh, we're out of classes now, Ikari-kun. There's no need to be so formal."

Little bits of amusement showed in his eyes. "Kinda hypocritical of you isn't it,
Ayame-chan?"

"Oh you; Shinji-kun." She looked away and fought off a blush. She looked at him from
the corner of her vision, and his relaxed stature. Maybe even too relaxed? Was he
in denial somehow?

"So, what brings you around, Ayame-san?"

She huffed. She supposed that was the most she could get out of him. "Can we...
talk?"

Shinji looked back over his shoulder. His guardians had seemingly all but vacated the
premises. They were giggling like mad when a girl came to visit him. He supposed
grownups were weird that way. So easily amused. It was pathetic, really.

"Oh, Shinji. I heard about what Minase did to you. That was such a mean, nasty thing
to do! You deserve better than that!"

"Oh. So I suppose she told you, then?"

She hesitated. "Well, it wasn't that much, but everybody saw the difference in how
you looked before and after your talk. Oh, Shinji!" she felt her eyes tearing up.
"Everybody knows!"

He winced. And he imagined Kobayakawa would have gone blabbering on about it to
his closest friends, and with a Gretchz nearby it was certain a rumor would be flying
all over the town.

He shrugged. "Oh, well. There's nothing to be done about it."

"You shouldn't say that!" she almost yelled. "Just because she's pretty and rich
doesn't mean she gets to treat the rest of us like we don't matter. What she did to
you was just... -wrong-.

Why not you? You're kind, and smart and gentle.... and cute...." And she was
actually now crying. "...and you don't deserve to have your feelings thrown aside just
like that! You should... you should know that you're not disliked by everbody. You
should know that there are others who can care for you as much as... you were so
brave, at least. I wish I could be so brave.."

"Ayane-san..."

"Oh, I'm sorry, but-"

"I already know."

She looked up sharply, her eyes wide behind her frames. "What?" she gasped. Her
face burned. Of course he would know. But then, why didn't he ever say anything
before? That was cruel, too.

"But there's really someone else."

The girl nodded, and took out a handkerchief. "I know that too. I just can't compete
can't I? I'm not as smart or pretty or sophisticated and..."

Shinji could sense she was about to enter into familiar territory and decided to head
her head off at the pass. "No. MINASE has someone else." He shrugged. "So I can't
stand in the way of that."

Ayane looked up again, her face open with shock. "She does?"

"She does." Shinji didn't know exactly why, but gave her word for word what
happened. He relished it, though he had been humiliated he felt some delight at
sharing the ugliness of her personality.

"T-that's scandalous! How long do you think this has been going on?" The supposed
best friend stood up and began pacing. "Seriously! What could she have been
thinking! We're too young. You only asked her out to eat..."

"Strawberries."

"Eat strawberries." the girl nodded. "That wasn't a date. To have someone waiting for
her already in high-school? What is she thinking?! What is she doing?!"

Shinji shrugged again. "Likely, she initiated it. It's a status symbol for her, to reach
above her apparent social caste. The other, I think, would just enjoy having someone
of her prominent family linked to him. Both don't really know what they're doing." He
sighed. "We -are- too young."

"You... don't sound young." said Ayane. That had always been what drew her to him.

Shinji laughed, but sadly and at himself. "A part of me always feels like ten thousand
years old." He took a deep breath and leaned. "Or it might just be undigested cheese."

The girl didn't know what to do with this more casual, more playful Shinji. She felt
guilty, but it was perfect. It was like everything was made for this chance.

"No, I don't think we should be going out." said Shinji, still with his head slumped back
over the chair and almost asleep.

Ayane felt her heart stop. So THIS is what that felt like. She could finally, truly
emphatize.

"What are we, Ayane-san? Friends? We ARE too young, why change that? Why
mutate this comfortable distance we have to something we can't really See?" He
raised a hand, and made little flitting motions. "Feelings are like butterflies... let them
fly as they wish, and they return to that flower time and again."

She smirked. How so utterly, wisely Shinji-kun of him. "Usually people say that about
horses; set it free and if it returns, it's yours forever."

He lifted his head. "They do? I didn't know that."

She giggled and sat back down, kicking her her leds. She copied his lazy slouch on the
chair.

"So... what should I do?" she asked him, while staring at ceiling too.

"Hmm? Do?"

"Yeah, you're free, Shinji-kun. Whatever you want, let's do it. What you want me to
do, I'll do it. We're friends and that's what friends do."

"Umh, you're describing more like a minion, actually."

"Then command me, your most loyal minion!" She giggled again.

Shinji sighed and let his eyes remain closed. He was pretty sure he had one of those
already, but said nothing to spare her feelings. The future was closed to him. What
did he want? Others made it their choice to make his wants their wants. The more
accurate question would be what could he possibly want from another?

"Ayane-san?

"Yes?"

"I need you to go now." He didn't need to see her face to know she looked hurt. "I
-need- you to go out and tell Minase I don't hate her. I need -you- to tell her to be
careful. No, don't stand up. Not exactly now. Go home and think carefully about what
you'll say. We both know she's not going to take it kindly. She will mock you. She will
mock me. So prepare yourself well."

The words, the MANIPULATION, it was so there and so obvious and she couldn't see
it. She refused to see it. What could only be described as sheer determination filled
her. Joy, at simply being needed. Power, as if his will and wisdom was pouring into her
being.

"I will..." she said. "T-thank you, Shinji-kun."

Still looking up, still distant in his gaze, he smiled thinly.

-
-

Sometime later, it was Kobayakawa who arrived. He bounded into the house with his
usual fervor, moving deceptively quickly for someone so large. "Hey, boss! Got news
boss!" he called out after being shown in.

"More of your friends, Shinji?" said Shinji's aunt. "I have some more rice cakes. Would
you like some?" he asked the rotund boy. The expected happy nod pleased her.

"I think we should take a walk. Please wrap a few in a plastic bag."

Shinji led him a good ways out from the house, near beaten cliffs over-looking the
all-devouring ocean. Kobayakawa followed content in having rice cakes to munch on.
He waited patiently as Shinji stared off into the distance.

"What have you found?"

Oh, so it's to be THAT sort of of Shinji, eh? Well, he couldn't expect da boss to be
fun about this sort of thing. "We gots the Gretchz workin' boss. One'a dem saw
Minase stop at a call booth to phone someone instead of using her cell phone. She
ducked into a store and came out looking different, hair up in bun and everything.
Dude in a bike came by and took her off."

"You know, I SHOULD be feeling some dismay at how you have kindergarten kids
stalking people, but I just can't seem to raise it right now. I'm impressed though,
they're surprisingly patient and hard to fool."

Kobayakawa lifted his double chin up. "My Gretchz are da best, boss. No one ever
notices a little kid. Have four of dem squatting in a corner and nobody cares what
dey're doing. It's like dey're invisible. If dey look playing, they can do anything."

"Good job. Now what's about dis runty squig? I don't think the Gretz can follow them
on a bike, can they?"

"No need ta, boss!" His voice then brightened. "We gots dis little Gretz, we call 'im
Bike Boy. He knows the bikes of EVERYBODY in dis town. If it's on two wheels, he
knows it. Dat cause his brudda runs da bike shop. He works da Gretz on messenger
service. We gots him and other shops on it, so we always haz a stash of candy for all
da boyz back at da hut. No toyz is too expensive if ya can share it. No one messes
wid da mob without da rest chippin' in."

Shinji nodded approvingly. Da Boyz were actually loved by the merchants downtown.
Let them grow up a bit more and that cut off an entire generation out for 'protection'.
Da Boyz would actually protect these people.

"We gots some bad news for ya, boss. Da squig's Kotaru Jishin; he's in high school,
third year. Now HIS brudda's Yakuza. He's in prison right now so the squig's behavin'.
He's 'ard though. Runs da junior high mob, nutting like OUR mob." Kobayakawa seemed
to shrink into himself. "If we gets at him, a lot of da boyz are gonna get hurt."

"So? Don't. I only asked you for information."

"But you're DA BOSS! Who hurts ya hurts all da boyz. Who don't respects da don't
respects da boyz! We should stomp him! STOMP HIM GOOD! W-"

"DON'T!" Shinji turned, his eyes glittering madly. "That word is NOT to be used so
lightly, so foolishly. Do you understand me?"

Kobayakawa took a step back. "Uh, sure boss."

"The Waaagh! is sacred. It is not for the boyz to waste. Da Waaagh! is to be done
when and only when da world needs turnin' back to the right and proppa. You smacks
someones, you stomps someone. But you don't call Da Waaagh! without a warboss!
And you don't have a warboss until you HAVE A WAR! Do you hear me?"

"Boss! I hear yas!"

"When you calls a Waaagh!, I expects there to be nothing left! You will stompz da
target until it is gone, you will breaks der stuff, you will digs der landz up until
nobodys can remember where dey once waz; you will send da boyz and da boyz will
not stops until da odda side is all right and propa and OURS! DAT, IS DA WAAAGH!
Do you getz it?!"

"Y-yes, boss. I getz ya, boss." Kobayakawa had an expression which could only be
described as religious awe. "You Da Boss."

Shinji stepped back, and sighed heavily. "So, don't say it."

"...not gonna say it."

"Something has to be done about this Jishin. He's got that broody bad boy image
young girls love." Shinji steepled his fingers, and held it up to just under his nose as
he thought. "He wants her money. He wants her body. He will use her, he will break
her. I can See it."

And I can just let it happen. Wouldn't that be perfect?

He sighed again. "Send someone to follow him and Minase around, ready to call the
cops." Crap. He had sent Ayane out. "You know Mitsugane Ayane? She's my friend. I
need you to watch out for her. If she's in trouble, I don't care what, jump in. Protect
her."

"Yes, boss. Sure thing boss..."

Shinji turned and smiled now. "Auntie makes good rice cakes, doesn't she? It's the
sliver of cheese she puts on top. Come on, let's get you some more."

"Thanks, boss!"

-
-
-

Shinji was still waiting. The silence in his skull was deafening. For years now he had
imagined life into those little plastic people, and filled his bland moments with the
joyful noise of their bickerings. He had made them the companions who would never
disappoint him, would never abandon him.

He took deep breaths and tried to clear his mind. He went out into the beach where
he found them and listened to the waves. A constant pattern in the background
helped him concentrate, he had no need to time his breathing. He breathed in with
the surf, out with the riptide. No wonder so many temples were built near the shore,
he realized.

Though it all there was only the serenity, the utter and artificial silence within his
mind. He was starting to loathe it. He would seek that meditative state to help him
think, but now that he could reach it so easily he found himself preferring the chaos
of their little voices batting away thoughts back and forth.

He made them as the ones who would never betray him, so the logic was that he
betrayed them. They did not leave, but were shut away. How? He had no idea, just
as he didn't know at what point it time they crossed from mere voices in the head
into distinct seemingly self-sufficient personalities.

He thought that he should have brought the figurines, they helped him focus. But
really, did they reside in all that plastic? He had used them as a crutch for too long.

"I STILL NEED YOU!" he shouted into the silence. "COME BACK!"

There was no response. If this was what it meant to grow up and decide for oneself,
he could do with remaining a child for a while longer.

He stood up and looked down at himself. Black pants, white shirt. Even out of school
he preferred those simple clothes. No wonder Minase found him weak and boring.

He kicked off his shoes and began to walk over to the shorelines. He stopped right at
the water's edge and let the waves lap at his feet. The horizon stretched out to
beyond time, the sky vast and infinite. Under it, his problems faded into their
temporal insignificance.

"Was it the pact with Chaos?" he asked the silence. "But.. Chaos doesn't exist...!"
Even then, shouldn't his Chaos Worshipper remain?

What happened while he slept? He missed them, missed them terribly.

"What will you take for them, oh sea? You brought them to me from your depths.
What can I offer so you can bring them to me again?"

The winds blew but there were no answers. The waves rushed on, but it was no reply.

Shinji bent down and scooped up some water in his palms. He splashed it into his
face. He scooped up another handful and drank in its salty tang. He let most of it
dribble down.

He fell back and lay down there on the beach, much like he did all those years ago.
He felt the same pointlessness, the same sourceless sadness. "What am I doing?" he
whispered. "This is so worthlessly dramatic. I'm brooding. Brooding, damn it!"

He slapped at the sands on either side of him, palms up. "They were awesome." He
felt that if he could touch that, that thread of awesomeness once more, he could
follow it and pull his miniature companions out of whatever box they were sealed in.

 

Breathe in. Breathe out. Waves up. Waves down. Clouds grew and shrank in his
vision. He had a feeling of timelessness, as if in the future he would lie down on a
shore again, always in sunset with all that dramatic red. The waters were all orange,
the sky as red as blood.

He felt something watching him. Like a big floating head. He looked down, suddenly
cold; but the post-Impact sea was still wine-purple, eternal and uncaring of humanity.
The sky was starting to darken even, though. He saw a single star weakly twinkling
out in the distance.

 

"I'm sorry." he said, but there was no one to hear it.

He clenched his fists. "But this is pathetic. I am my own person! If the future is
closed to me, then I'll break it open with my bare hands! I will teach them all to
respect me! I'll take my own justice! I'll never be afraid again!

Thank you for everything you've done. If we never talk again.

I think I'll be fine somehow."

Shinji got up and walked back to his house. He still had his own life ahead of him. He
felt more powerful than he had ever before.

-
-

He found there a child waiting by the front door. The boy stood up, and looked at him
doubtfully. "You're scrawny." he said.

Great. Now I'm being criticized by a being even bonier than I am. He actually chuckled
a bit. Being made fun of by tinier things was familiar. "And you're little." he said back.
"Who are you?"

"I'm da Gretz" the little boy proudly said.

"I thought there was more than one? Collectively, you're Gretchin."

His eyes widened. "You don't look like one of da boyz. But you're right. We're all da
Gretchz, but nobody knows dat secret name...." He scowled. "But I'm the Gretz here
and I have a message. I've gotta make sure."

"Um, okay. What do I have to do?"

"You gots to prove you're one of Da Boyz."

"How do I do that?"

The child put both hands behind his head and half-turned away. "I dunno." he said
casually. "If you're one of Da Boyz, you know."

Shinji blinked. All things considering, he wasn't actually one of Da Boyz. He'd never
been part of their meetings, he had no idea of their initiation rites or how they
identified each other. His contact with them were limited mostly to the three other
kids who had legitimate reasons to fear the heck out of him.

He slapped a fist down into an open palm in the common Japanese expression
of 'eureka!'. "Wait here." he said, and rushed into the house.

When he returned, he had his cello. The little kid squinted at the spindly, fragile-
looking instrument. It didn't look properly 'ard and awesum' like the boyz would use.
Shinji smirked a bit, and mouthed 'try this'.

He held the cello improperly, head down like a fiddle. He stomped his right foot down
on the concrete, hard. Then, twice more, faster. He began to play. It was a simple
melody; repeating, rapid, violent. He went at those strings as if he wanted to rip
them right off the wood.

When he finished his hair was all mussed up, his eyes were wide and his teeth were
bared in a feral grin. He held the cello up to the sky like an axe. "Ere we go. Ere we
go. Were we go? NOBODY KNOWS TIL WE GETS DERE! ERE WE GO. ERE WE GO!

WHAT WE DO?'

"Nobody cares til we gets dere...!" mumbled the child. "That was awesome! You ARE
Da Boss!" He kicked his heels and stood up straight. "Gots a message for you, boss."

Shinji made a wearied 'heh-heh'. "So wot's Da Word?"

"Something's going down at da old Salt Park, boss. Boss'yakawa's already
dere. He tolds me to come gets ya. We gots to go!"

"Then what's with all the dancing around for? We should hurry."

"Da Word was for Da Boss. I had ta be sure. If you're the boss I shouldn't be wasting
your time." The boy sniffed. "But if you're not Da Boss, then you're a squig-head
wastin' MY time, and I don't gots to show you any respect."

Shinji sighed. He went back indoors only long enough to shove his cello into his aunt's
hands and mutter a quick "Sorrygottago!" He ran back out again, but stopped after a
distance. He looked back to see the Gretz scampering to keep up on his stumpy little
legs.

He crouched down and motioned for the child to get up on his back. Though he did
look scrawny, Shinji was relatively fit for his age. He bore the burden well as he went
off at a steady lope towards the town.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Dunno. I was tolds to come gets ya just as he was headin' in. My feet were already
moving, so I hads no time to ask."

Shinji tried to turn his head. "Wait, are you telling me you RAN all the way from the
Salt Park to here?" At the boy's nod, he added with simple wonder. "You had better
be getting lots of candy..."

"What, are you crazy? I should be expecting candy for this?" the child's indignation
threatened to topple him off his feet. "Da Boyz needed me and I was dere. Da Boyz
are always happy ta do what da boyz gots to do."

Shinji groaned. Such fanatic dedication. How many young lives had he inadventedly
corrupted thus far?

 

-
-
-
-

The Salt Park was actually Mamoru Community Park, half-swallowed by the sea. It
was one of the most secluded portions of the town, with weeds barely kept at bay
hiding it from the road. Behind its tangled reeds opened up a clearing with several
benches, with an excellent view of the sun sinking into the sea. It was a properly
romantic spot, remote and intimate and mostly unknown to the grownups.

Shinji dropped the Gretz upon reaching town. "Go gets the boyz. Bring food and
rocks. Big sticks. Nothing bladed or could stab, all right?"

He arrived at the Salt Park to see it no longer unknown. Police cars ringed the
place, their siren lights bathing everything in harsh flickering colors. There were
already a few curious people milling around. They were outnumbered by blue-garbed
policemen though, who kept everyone away from the police line. Behind that yellow
barrier was an ambulance, and Kobayakawa surrounded by cops. The round teen
seemed unafraid though, and easily broke away from them to get to Shinji.

He ducked under the tape and bounded over.

"Hey boss! Good thing you got here boss. Da cops were getting annoyed I wouldn't
talk, but I had to tell it all to yas first." He grinned. "I dids what you wanted me to,
boss. I saw Ayane-san and followed her, but without her seeing me, you understands.
I heards some yelling and her screamin' so I went right into da park. Dere I saw
Minase, and she was naked and cryins' and that grot Jishin gots Ayane-san, and he
was just abouts to slap her. So I jumped him, boss! I jumped him good like you told
me to!"

Kobayakawa's face was a mass of cuts and bruisers, his left eye purpled and shut.
His grin only made it look even more grotesque. "He gots me a few times but I didn't
really feel it." He patted his belly. "All dese fat's gotta be good for somefin' ha!"

Shinji's was surprised at his own tone. It was cold and calm, and yet he still wanted
someone to tear apart. "What happened next? What happened to Jishin?"

"Dat's whats awesome, boss! We was muckin' about dere and Minase just up and gets
him at back of a head with dis big 'ard rock! He turns around and looks all confused
and he sees her and she's cryin' and she bashes him AGAIN with rock at the side of
his head. He makes dis little spin in the air as he falls over. Minase falls down too, and
cries there for a little bit, then she gets up and STOMPS ON HIM IN DA GROIN and den
Ayane-san hugs her and the girls can gets on to some propa cryin'." He nodded and
looked proud. "I coulda looked, but I didn't wants me groin stomped too. We was
gonna sneak her back into town but it turns out da Gretz went to da cops first before
headin over to yas.

Da cops came by and dey was actually scary for a while until Ayane-san yelled at
them. They led us away and gave us blankets and coffee. I think I like coffee, boss.
It's bitter, but you need it to fight the sweet of the round cakes we was supposed to
dunk into it."

Kobayakawa shook his fists over his face. "We stomped dat Jishin good! Da boyz rule!"
Shinji looked behind his follower to see a covered stretcher being loaded into the
ambulance. He didn't have the heart to correct the statement, not just Stomped but
Stomped Ded. "Now I gots ta talk to the cops. Thanks for gettin' here, boss."

Shinji watched him go, and hoped the police would get something more substantial
out of him.

-

Intellectually, he knew about rape. He could understand the reasons behind it, the
biological imperative, Minase was quite well-developed for her age and without ever
even seeing Kotaru Jishin's face could deduct to some extent why he'd taken this
particular day to lose it.

But emotionally? He got it all as Minase emerged from the Park, bundled in a thick
warm blanket and flanked by her parents; her hair matted, her skin bluish pale, and
gaze hollow.

Life on returned to those eyes when she saw him; and all the shame and the horror
there could likely be matched only by his own.

"Don't look at me!" she shrieked and hid herself behind her parents. "Not him... anyone
but him." she said into their embrace. Her words came out in sputters. "Just yesterday
I told him... I never wanted to have anything to do with a short little weirdo... when I
had someone cool waiting for me." She wailed. "I didn't want to be seen with someone
like him. Now even he would never have anything to do with me!"

"Mina-chan..." her mother hugged her well. She looked at Shinji standing there, whose
young face was stricken with grief. "Such a pity. He seems like such a nice boy."

Minase continued to sob. They went into their expensive new car, and drove away.

The future might have been closed to him, but the past was not. He -knew- that
somehow, that he could have prevented this.

-

Next to come out was Mitsugane Ayane, escorted by policemen as her parents hadn't
arrived yet. Her frightened expression abruptly brightened as she saw him; numbness
faded from her joints as she abruptly rushed him and fell into his arms. "Shinji-kun!"
she sobbed into his shirt. "Shinji-kun. Shinji-kun." She repeated his name as if it would
drive all the bad things away. "It was so -horrible-, Shinji-kun."

"What happened, Ayane-san?"

She looked up withe tear-stained eyes, her glasses gone, and said. "I thought about
what you said, and what I would say. I just -knew- Minase would just ignore me if I
went over to scold her, so I had to go where she couldn't escape what I would say.
So I came here, because I knew she would come here... and I was hoping that
someday we would go here too... and she -did- arrive. She had her boyfriend and he
was -older- than her. And they were -celebrating- her getting out of elementary, she
was saying he couldn't feel so guilty anymore. I was hiding and I can see his eyes
and I knew the he wasn't ever guilty of anything. They were doing -things-, Shinji,
things we shouldn't be doing yet and I just had to get out there and say it to her!

And I went out there and said it! It was -wrong-! She should be ashamed. It was all
wrong, and it would end wrong, and how could she throw aside the good that you
would have brought her?" Ayane gripped his shirt tightly and pulled herself closer to
him, grimacing with heartfelt pain she spoke it to his face. "And she stood up and
spat out what was in her mouth and told me I was a child. And you were a child. And
that she wasn't anymore and that she didn't have to listen to us. Going here and
there, crying and asking for help; we're so useless. She was better than us. She didn't
have to listen to us."

She collapsed into sobs. "She said it, like I knew she would, she didn't care about any
of us at all.

That's where I slapped her. That's where I told he she might not need to listen to me,
but she had to live with her parents." Ayane buried her face into the folds on his shirt.
"I told her it was wrong, and her parents would find it wrong, and they would do
something about it.

She slapped me back.

She told me I wouldn't dare. She told me no one would believe an attention-seeking
brat like me. She was afraid." The girl continued her tale in between wordless
desolation. "She grabbed my hand and told me she would find some way of making me
regret it. I wouldn't tell anyone, would I? Would I?

Her parents would lose face, and a word to the right people MY parents could lose
their jobs. The Houkos are a proud family, they wouldn't see it as a favor.

She pushed me away and told me to go away. And, I did! I left her there and I
shouldn't have!"

-

And Shinji could see it. Minase's words hurtful aside, she must have reconsidered. She
must have thought over how continuing her charade at being grown-up could harm
her later. She had forgotten one thing. Other people had their pride too.

 

He could almost hear it:

'Who do you think you're talking to?' she would have said with her chin up in the
air. 'Just because I grace you with MY attentions is no reason for you to think you're
actually WORTHY of me.'

'What, should I be scared of you now? I won't go away like a dog, not while I still
have this here.'

'You SHOULD be. My parents will..'

'Your parents aren't here, you little bitch. Now get down and finish it!'

She would have resisted, but she would find her strength was nothing against his.
They were to be alone, she had made sure of that. 'Let go of me!'

'You're not better than me! You're the one that wanted this, you were the one who
threw yourself at me. This! Take it! Take it! You want to be treated like you're grown
up! This is what grown-ups do!'

Shinji wanted to gag. Experiencing many emotions simultaneously was something he
had cultivated a little with his imaginary conversations, but never to such an extent!
His imagination was running away from him! No way could it be that accurate!?

-

"But... Ayane-san, if you left her... then what are you doing here now?"

"Because I thought of you!" she said back, such hurting in her face. "I thought of you
and how you were brave and I was such a coward. I was almost home when I thought
of you saying it was all just alright that I couldn't do anything when it wasn't! I should
have been able to DO something! I shouldn't have just run away. You wouldn't have
run away. I musn't run away!

I turned around and went back. She wasn't going to get rid of me that easy. I would
drag her out of there, it was for her own good. She was MY friend! I had to help her.
You wanted me to help her!"

She had already ran out of tears. She was shaking. "But I didn't really expect them to
still be there! He was just zipping up his pants, and told her she would enjoy it more
next time. She was naked, Shinji-kun, and she was... bleeding! There was blood!" She
screamed her words. "I screamed. I was scared!

And he looked at me, and I couldn't move. He was so angry! I couldn't do anything! I
was completely worthless!"

She stopped and looked down. "And that's... when he arrived. He jumped and
wrestled him away from me. I never really noticed Kobayakawa-kun before, but he
was really bigger than the rest of us. He was fighting that high schooler without any
fear, no hesitation whatsover. He was laughing, Shinji-kun! 'Stay away from Ayane
-san!' he was shouting. 'Dis is for Da Boss!' I never knew he could be so fast or so
brave... "

Ayane shook her head. "It wasn't enough. I saw him almost beaten but he was still
saying 'You don't mess wid friends of Da Boss!'. He was going to keep throwing himself
to the fight until he died! I could see that he could, he would! His enemy was going to
kill him just to keep him down!" She shivered.

"But he was so intent on beating Kobayakawa-kun that he didn't notice Mina-chan get
behind him. Mina-can had this... this rage, this despair, and she hit him with that. She
hit him again! She kicked him. She killed him. He hurt her and she hurt him back. But I
could tell it wasn't enough to take the pain away. That's where I saw she needed me.
I tried to help her, Shinji-kun. I helped her the only way I knew how. I took off my
own clothes and gave it to her. I cried with her. I stayed with her. I told her I'd never
leave her again."

She sniffled, and her eyes upon him held some emotion he couldn't decipher.
"Kobayakawa-kun stood guard until the police arrived. He was so brave. He was so
strong. He wouldn't let me look at his wounds. He told me da Boss sent him to protect
me. His Boss wanted to make sure that nothing ever harms me. He didn't care about
anything except that I was safe. I didn't care about anything except that Minase was
safe."

She whispered directly to his ear. "You're his Boss, aren't you? You sent him."

Shinji could only nod.

She gave him a bone-crushing hug. "I'm sorry, Shinji-kun! You're so kind and good and
I know this must be hurting you! It's not your fault! You had nothing to do with it."

But it IS my fault! he wanted to scream. Don't you get it? If I hadn't sent you out to
confront Minase, you wouldn't have set this in motion. It was all so premature! I could
have planned to separate them instead of this! I didn't want her hurt!

 

... but you did. You wanted her to hurt as you have been hurt. Your will is ABSOLUTE,
can you see it, bright lord?

That voice; its return filled him with equal parts relief and simple understandable terror.

 

Ayane stared at him, and he realized that without her glasses and with her hair down,
she could be even... beautiful. Her face held such strange trust and serenity in it now.
"Thank you, Shiji-kun. Thank you! I'm sorry for being so useless..."

"Y-you're not useless, Ayane."

"Yes I am! Please don't be too kind to me. I can't bear it! Shinji-ku... Shinji-san." She
put her head to his shoulders again. "Shinji. From now on I... I..."

"Ayane!"

The girl lifted her head and turned. There behind them stood a big police officer, his
thin moustache keeping his face looking always fierce. "Dad!" she yelled with renewed
relief. "Oh, dad..."

She looked up at Shinji, waiting for his approval. At his slight nod, she fled from his
embrace and into the waiting arms of her police chief of a parent. "My little Acchan..."
said the big man gently. "You're safe now."

"I've always been safe, Dad." she mumbled. Ayane turned to look at Shinji. Her father
noticed it and frowned at her attention towards a boy. Well, any member of the
opposite sex. He was predictably protective that way.

"Who's that?"

"That's Shinji-san." said Ayane. "He's my friend."

"He's Da Boss!" piped up Kobayakawa form nearby.

The father's expression lightened up seeing him. "Ah, you're the one I have to thank
for saving my daughter! Thank you, young man! You're a hero!"

Kobayakawa looked down and wrung his hands. "It was nuttin'. Ayane-san is friends
o' da Boss. His friends are friends o' da boyz. Da Boyz are always ready to help their
friends."

His frown returned a fraction. "Boyz, huh? And he's the boss. How is he the boss? Can
you tell me?"

Kobayakawa, simple and unsuspecting, went on. "Sure! He tells us whats to do. He
shows da boyz da right and proper way of things. He's told us that da propa use of
strength is to protect da weak, and da weak can be strong when they needs ta be."
He nodded. "Da boss is NEVER wrong."

"Shinji's my FRIEND, dad." Ayane added.

The policeman's face softened, up at that boy... no, a young man, who still stood
there with his head bowed, his shoulders shaking in grief. A natural leader, eh? He
looked back down, and saw that beneath layers of fat was a good heart and a good
policeman in the making; maybe even Chief someday. His daughter could be anything
she wants to be, maybe even the
Mayor!

That one over there, he had a feeling, would be Very Important Someday. With such
kids around, the future didn't seem so bad. "He sounds like a nice boy."

"Yes." Ayane whispered fondly. "He is." She waved at him one last time. Shinji only
looked back with such sheer misery in his face, before he fled.

-

"I never wanted this..." he said under his breath.

But see! He that has stolen from you has paid for it with his LIFE. She that had set
herself above you now lies humbled and broken, the BLOOD of that she once loved on
her hands.

He that follows you is now a HERO, respected by many.

And she who once held you in high regard, now WORSHIPS you.

Chaos IS. In CHAOS all things are possible.

-

His guardians arrived only soon enough to see him run past back to the house. His
aunt made as if to call out to him, but a hand on her shoulder kept her silent. Shinji's
uncle had already learned of what happened. "No, let him be. He needs to be alone."
he said sadly. "Shinji is just too kind, he needs to be alone to deal with knowing not
everyone can be as naturally good as he expects them to be."

"That poor boy."

The Boyz broke into the scene, shouting something that sounded like 'Huuwaaaaa--- "
and ground to a halt at seeing all the policemen. They sheepishly put away their
useless rocks and sticks. The snacks were not useless, and in between grateful
munches Kobayakawa regaled them of his tale of heroism and the confirmed infallibility
of Da Boss.

The boyz offered some snacks to the policemen, who accepted it with a smile. It was
a simple act that would have far-reaching symbolic consequences.

 

-
-
-
-

Shinji ran until his lungs burned. He ran until his legs began to burn. He ran until he
felt as if he could breathe fire and still didn't stop.

He arrived at the house gasping for breath, feeling his entire body screaming. He
fumbled angrily at the locks. He stumbled in, leaving the door hanging open. He clung
to the wall as he climbed up to the second floor. His heart threatened to leap right
out of his chest, and his head seemed about to burst.

He kicked open his door and laid bloodshot eyes at a single figure alone in its shelf.
"YOU!" he snarled.

He leapt over and snatched it from its place. His hands shook as he gripped it, slowly
adding more and more pressure. As plastic deformed under his grip, it looked as if the
Chaos Marine was bowing its head.

"Someday you will NEED me again, bright lord. Someday, you will call out for me again.
Someday, when you can set aside this petty morality.

And on that day I will grant you POWER beyond your wildest imaginations."

Shinji snarled and tightened his grip. He felt so immense just then, and the figurine in
his hands a little person; red-eyed and so willing to just let him crush it/him in his
hands...

Shinji screamed.

He collapsed to his knees and punched at the floor.

"What am I doing?" he breathed. "What am I doing?" He opened his palm to reveal the
figurine all bent of shape, its laquer cracked in places. It didn't seem irretrievably
damaged, though. He could push things back into place and slap on a fresh coat of
paint. "Why am I so angry at this thing?"

"You're just a lump of plastic!" he said, his heart lifting. He got up and placed it back
on the shelf. Shinji sat on his bed and cradled his face in his hands.

"I... did it." he failed to hold back his tears. "I'm a horrible person."

"No, you are not." he felt another familiar voice skim through his mind. "It was not
your fault, Shinji. What did you really do, clear your mind and admit it to yourself."

"What I did I do? I wanted her to hurt! I let her be RAPED! I took her pain and loved
it. Oh, gods, I loved it."

"No, yaz didn't!" Shinji could feel a massive stomp echo through his consciousness.
"She was weak, and you hated anyones who abuses da weak."

"You must not lie to yourself, commander. Consider exactly what your influence in this
matter brought. As much as it pains me to admit it, the chaos-pawn had done you
right. You SAVED a life, commander, and it was not by your hands that an evil one
was destroyed. It was by your will that one was saved from that evil."

"But... Minase.."

"Did you plan it? Such is the way of Chaos that it prevents any attempts to truly
control it." The Farseer in his mind stroked with her white-gloved hands from the
cheek of her helmet, down to her neck, past her chestplate and down to her hips.
"You did nothing to her. You -must- understand this. You are not a God. Not
everything is within your control. Her fate is hers alone."

"I don't want anyone to suffer..." Shinji cried. "I don't want anyone to suffer ever
again."

"If that is your desire, bright lord." the Chaos Marine actually had the gall to interject.
"Then let it be written upon the flesh of destiny."

"Be silent!" screeched the Eldar. "You have had your say. Be silent unless your
loathsome opinion is asked for!"

"I obey Chaos, not you, witch. But for the bright lord's sake for now I shall do as you
say."

Shinji bent his knees up and went into a sitting fetal position. He had touched
something today, something vast and powerful and his. The Ork said it was nothing
more than his "Inna bad-ass". Both the Farseer and Space Marine counseled for him
not to worry about it, and it would be a LONG time before he'd swallow so easily
anything that Chaos would say.

He no longer felt powerless, though. He learned that day that when one's physical
strength fails, let the mind triumph. When the future is closed to the mind, then it is
the point of decisive action. When all is dark, is when the light of the soul shall reveal
itself.

His physical form was not the -all- of what he was.

I am Shinji Ikari. He said to himself. This is what I am. This is just what I need to be.

 

-
-
-
-

 

The day arrived when he recieved the letter from Tokyo 3. It had one word in it:

COME.

How hard can it be to write one other word? Please come.

Or You are needed, come.

Or just I'm sorry?

"No father would write this!" he said to himself. "This is something designed
specifically to piss me off! And it's working!"

"You don't have to go to Tokyo 3, Shinji." said his aunt softly. "You can just stay
here. You can be happy here, can't you?"

"Yes, don't give the bastard the satisfaction of having the son he so ignored come
running at his earliest call... what's there for you anyway?"

He could just stay. In a town which actually loved him. Where the boyz were being
treated like the minor militia. Where someone stood beside him; and strangely a best
friend/confidante/personal secretary did vastly simplify his life. Where, once, when no
one was around, Minase actually knelt down and kissed his shoe as if his mere touch
could purify her.

Shinji crumpled the letter, if it could even be called that, in his fist. He looked up and
the weight of ages were in his eyes. "I HAVE to go to Tokyo 3. It's time my father
and I settled matters."

"Punch him in the face for me, would you?" said his uncle with a grin.

"Sure will!" he replied with a similar grin.