A typical morning peak hour on board a train in Tokyo-3.
It is all going to end. At last.
For the first time in more than a decade, Ikari Gendo feels release, like an ex-prisoner of war who has finally been released after serving a long and arduous sentence. At this moment, all the years of painstaking planning is finally coming into fruition. There is no longer any need for secrecy, nor is there for suffering anymore.
He is going to see her again. The woman that has evaded his clutches for many years is going to return to him.
A small smile that does not reach Gendo’s eyes breaks out on his face. His right hand reaches out and grabs his left wrist. With a sharp movement, he gets rid of the thick black leather glove that has encased his left hand.
He turns, and his back is now facing his desk. His eyes focus on the only other occupant of this wide space that is his office. It is a young girl, with beautiful snowy-white skin, deep crimson irises, and shoulder-length hair in the bright colour of the sky.
She is looking in front, but the two do not make eye contact.
Gendo’s lips parts, and his voice issues out, “You’re here.”
“You called for me, Mr Ikari,” the girl replies in a toneless but gentle voice.
Gendo flexes the fingers of his left hand. “Yes, I did, Ayanami Rei.”
*****
There is nothing to be seen, only a limitless expanse of white nothingness.
Gendo winces as he takes a step; for every movement he takes his body is wracked with searing white-hot pain; it is as if he is being burned alive, though his skin undergoes no change or whatsoever, and neither is he sweating. He is being swathed with gushes of scorching heat, again and again. He opens his mouth, as if to swear at the predicament he is trapped in or scream in pain, but no sound comes out — he is able to speak no longer, he suddenly finds.
Then he stops short, as his eyes dart towards the woman who has materialised in front of him, a serene smile on her face.
Gendo blinks, for it is her. He opens his mouth again, and tries to speak, and yet again he has no voice.
“You’re not fit to talk to me, Gendo,” the woman says in a familiarly tinkling voice that is stern and quivers slightly.
“It couldn’t be …” Gendo rasps, and his eyes widen in surprise — he has regained his voice, albeit a hoarse and damaged version. “Instrumentality … has it been a success, after all?”
“No, it is not,” the woman says coldly. “I made it fail.”
“What … do you mean?”
“You would think, after all these years, after all you have done, that I, of all people, will still wish to be with you? You actually thought so?”
“But …”
“Forget it, Ikari Gendo. Forget me.”
“Instrumentality!” Gendo roars hoarsely. “It is the product of all these years of hard work … so that I can see you again …”
“And why do you want to do that? Answer me, Ikari.”
“Because I love you, Yui. Because you’re my wife.”
“You love me?” the woman named Yui says in a frighteningly soft voice. “Do you really feel so?” She takes a few steps towards Gendo. “Then tell me … where is Shinji?”
“Shinji ..?” Gendo’s voice falters. “He is … coming.”
“Nonsense,” Yui hisses, her face twisting in an expression of pure fury. “He is not coming. You’ve never meant for him to come. You loved me like you never, ever, loved Shinji. To you, he is a tool, just like I am to you.”
“You’re mistaken, Yui …”
“No, I’m not, and I am sure of that, because I’ve seen your actions, your atrocities, with my own eyes,” Yui says slowly, her voice picking up volume with every word. “You began Instrumentality in order to reach me, but that is because I am the perfect medium through which you can control the process.
“You do not love me, you have never loved me. Instrumentality is a weapon, a weapon in which I am the perfect means for control of the demon you’ve hidden underneath us! And in trying to obtain me, you have hurt Shinji, you have hurt his friends, but they do not matter to you, don’t they?”
“No, Yui,” Gendo protests. “Aren’t I as important to you as the child? Aren’t I?”
“Never, in my whole life,” Yui declares. “Shinji, my son, is the only one I love. I’ve loved him even before I conceived him, and I loved him so much that I instantly saw through your pretences, your malice. I loved him, and yearned to protect him so much, that I willingly sacrificed my soul to Unit-01, so that I can watch over him when you coerced him to pilot it! My shot at heaven, even hell, I have thrown it all away. Because Shinji is my child, and I love him with all my heart.”
Gendo opens his mouth again, but once more he loses his voice.
“You defile my memory,” Yui spits. “I died so that Shinji can have a better life; I died so that you’d have a chance to redeem yourself. But you’ve never cherished him — you’ve never cherished anything I gave you, so that’s why you went to Naoko, am I right?
“Instrumentality is over, Gendo, and so are you. You have wasted your chance — farewell.”
By then, Gendo is surrounded by heat reminiscent of a hell-inferno. The pain is so searing, so all-consuming — Gendo throws back his head, and emits a scream so animal-like, so primeval, that it is enough to shatter one’s soul twenty times over.
TO BE CONTINUED in PROLOGUE and PHASE-01: Breaking Skies
