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lavanya_six) wrote2008-08-22 10:22 pm
Abandoned Fic - Part 1 (of 2)
HOWEVER, occasionally I'll can a whole project for a different reason. Linked below the cut-off is one such abandoned fanfic. It's called "You're a Boy, You Know!" and it stars Misato. I killed this fic for three reasons:
Firstly, like "Taking Sights", it's a time-travel Peggy Sue story. It just seemed like a bad idea to do two stories of that nature at the same time.
Secondly, I was having a lot of trouble deciding just how crazy I wanted to make Misato. Her mental state switched a lot between the first three chapters that I'd (partially) drafted and it came across less as schizophrenic and more as shoddy characterization.
Thirdly, I couldn't figure out how to deal with the names and pronouns in a way that didn't make it confusing for the reader. "What's the matter with the names and pronouns?" you ask.
(This is an unfinished, unedited draft. As such, some scenes aren't finished. <notes> are there as reminders to me about what it was I needed to write. Also, the grammar and spelling will be atrocious since I haven't gone over it. If you've ever wondered what my early draft look like, wonder no more!)
The punch knocks my frail body to the ground. I just crumple under Touji Suzahara's fist like a little girl. Fuck. I need to learn how to carry myself. Fast.
The taller boy smacks his fist into an open palm, rubbing the knuckles like he was the one who was hurt. "Sorry new kid, but I had to hit you. Wouldn’t have been satisfied 'till I did."
I can feel pain, hot and raw, radiating from me right elbow. It's just a scrape but for some reason I feel like my arm's on fire. Everything's still so new to me.
The freckled kid – Kensuke Aida, the military otaku one of the Stooges – leans over and half-apologizes half-excuses the attack. "Sorry, new kid," he says, adjusting his glasses like another condescending ass I know. "His little sister was hurt pretty bad in the last attack. Your giant robot knocked over the building she was hiding in."
Honestly, I don't care at the moment. Everything that's happened in the past few days – the Evas and the Angels and NERV and my peculiar situation – wells up within me. I'm not an angry person. I don't get upset, REALLY upset, that often. But right now? My face feels flush. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! I feel like I'm going to EXPLODE.
Touji snorts in disgust. "God, are you actually gonna cry?"
"Maybe if you were a better brother you would've made sure she was safe in the designated shelters," I spit, knowing even as I say it that it's the absolute worse thing I could possibly utter. I don't care in the moment, though. I just want someone else to shoulder this crap I'm dealing with. What a selfish person I am. "After all, it's not like you didn't have hours of warning before the battle to DO YOUR JOB AS A BIG BROTHER."
I glare at Suzahara. He glares back. I'm not looking at Aida's reaction but I do know that he steps back away from us. He's probably seeing the murderous tinge in both of our expressions.
The tall boy, enraged, just throws himself at me. My foot lashes out and lands squarely in his crotch. Suzahara goes down. It feels good.
I don't have long to celebrate because the wind is kicked out of me two seconds later. I roll away instinctively, protecting my belly from the attack. Kensuke Aida actually came to his friend's defense.
Huh. I didn't think he had it in him.
I hear Touji stumble to his feet. Fuck. They're going to beat the shit out of me now.
I'm saved from the smackdown by the eruption of the civil defense sirens.
"This isn't over," squeaks Suzahara as he hobbles away to the shelter. Aida follows him.
I glare at the cloudy blue sky, sick with myself and the unfairness of fate.
Shinji Ikari wouldn't have talked back to Touji Suzahara. He wouldn't have kicked another boy in the balls out of anger. Hell, he wouldn't have gotten angry. He'd have been all sullen and feeling sorry about hurting a girl he'd never met.
But I'm not Shinji Ikari. Not really. I wasn't even born a boy.
I have to be him, though, or the world is f-u-c-k-e-d.
"Ugh," I moan under my breath. "This sucks."
I still manage to scrap myself off the ground and go to work. I'm still me, even though I'm not me anymore. And also because…
# # # presenting # # #
YOU'RE A BOY, YOU KNOW!
Chapter 01/13: A Man's Fight
Written by: Lavanya Six
(please don’t sue)
# # # the first installment in a limited series # # #
My name… nowadays… is Shinji Ikari. I'm fourteen years old and I'm living the greatest lie in the history of the world; which is saying a lot, considering the competition I have in NERV, SEELE, the cover-up of the Second Impact, and the plans for Third Impact.
Don't ask me my name from Before. It's better if I forget all that. If I act like I'm supposed to be Shinji then maybe my skin won't feel so tightly drawn over misshapen bones. Maybe I won't feel disgusted after my body gets an erection when Misato walks around in those tiiiiiight shorts of hers at home. Maybe I can find a place in this world for the new me.
Over the intercom I hear Lt. Ibuki announce the injection of the LCL – or 'that creepy shit they bleed out of Lilith's downstairs downstairs', as I think of it. I manage not to gag this time. The rest of the operation goes smoothly. First, Second, and finally Third Stage connections… I synch with Unit-01.
I don't actually feel him in my mind. It's more like a… a scent. I finally understand what Rei and Shinji were talking about that one time. It's the memory of the person in the Eva. When one pilot synchs with another's Eva they sense the normal pilot's impression on the nerve links or whatever. The normal pilot doesn't 'smell' themselves. I mean, how often do you smell yourself? Not unless you really stink. But in the Eva? I can smell him, the soul being carried inside its Core.
Old Shinji – the real Shinji Ikari.
I hope I'm doing right by him. I suspect he's responsible for my present condition. I know he wouldn't try to hurt me (right?). He picked me for a reason. I can change things. Make it better. Stop it all from happening again.
I know what I need to do. I just have to wait nine more months for it to happen:
May 4th, 2016 – the 17th Angel's attack – the day before Third Impact.
I just have to wait and not die or go insane in the meanwhile. Oh, and save Asuka, Kaji, Ritsuko, Misato, Touji, and maybe Rei Ayanami while I'm at it.
Which will be harder to do considering I just nailed one of them in the balls.
"Shinji," calls Major (no, Captain) Katsuragi. "Are you ready to launch?"
"Yes."
Ritsuko says something but I don't care to listen. I just want to fight. Things are always so much easier when I fight. Target in the center, pull the switch indeed!
"EVA LAUNCH!"
The G-forces are a bitch. Intellectually I know that even if there were a catastrophic failure of the catapult system – and there never was, even during that brawl with Zeruel – the Eva will protect me. It's damned hard to hurt an Eva, especially when it's watching out for you.
There's a patch of light growing over me. It's the sky. Before I can really process it the light overwhelms me and the Eva snaps to a halt. Then the locks release me and I'm free to kick ass.
I walk forward with just a touch of wariness. Even though I have a higher synch ratio than Old Shinji at this point in the original timeline I don't have his battle experience. I'm learning to fight in the Eva as I go. Moving the Eva isn't anything like people said it was. It's not so much as being the Eva as the Eva being you. I know, I know, it's not a great description. I'm not a poet or a scientist.
I'm Shinji Ikari.
I pick up the pallet rifle sent to me already knowing it's going to be useless. Pallet rifles are like training bras – good for nothing and you ditch them as soon as you can. Well, unless you're fighting that weaksauce spider Angel.
I circle around the tentacle rape Angel and fire at a safe distance. Ritsuko yells at me over the comlink, telling me that I haven't neutralized the AT-Field enough. No shit. I'm not going to get myself filleted for a damned pallet rifle attack.
I toggle a switch on my right butterfly handlebar. A screen on the side of the plug pops up: PROGRESSIVE KNIFE ENGAGED.
"Shinji!" shouts Misato. "I'm sending you a spare rifle, use it! Not your knife!"
I surge forward, throwing my AT-Field at the phallic SOB like a bucket full of watery hate. I'm sure Old Shinji would approve. The Angel actually staggers back from the force of the trans-dimensional blow. My knife makes a beeline for its Core.
Thunk
Jackpot!
Misato is screaming at me to withdrawal. I want to tell her that this Angel's Core is going to be a hard kill because of its density and the knife is the only way to finish the job but I can't. Shinji Ikari wouldn't know that and since I'm Shinji Ikari I can't say that.
Don't think about white elephants.
I'm screaming too at this point. My vision is turning red. Maybe the Angel managed to sever the umbilical cable. Maybe I'm running low on power. Maybe it's the plasma tentacles burning their way though my belly. I don't care. All I can see is the sparks flaring off my prog knife as it sinks ever so deeper into the fucking 4th Angel's Core.
Then it stops all at once. The Core splints, cracks, and turns a dull red. The Angel stops moving. The burning in my gut stops. The pressure on my AT-Field ceases. I'm still screaming though, even as I black out.
# # # # #
# # # # #
I wake up in the hospital, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling.
I feel exhausted but good. There's something about fighting (and winning) that scratches an itch in me. Being able to fight Angels just sweetens the pot. I know now that the Angels aren't to blame for everything… but it still feels good to be able to be the one who actually kills them this time around. It almost makes up for being trapped in this damn body.
"You look happy."
I turn my head, my smile drooping as I do so. Captain Misato Katsuragi is standing in the doorway. There's a slight crease in her brow. I'm not too good at reading her yet – her face isn't familiar to me. And her voice is just as strange. It doesn't sound like it should.
Then again, Shinji's doesn't sound like I remember from the outside.
"I won, didn't I?"
She steps forward and circles around the bed. Oh shit. It's going to be a talking to from Captain Mom! I put on my best apathetic Shinji-face and get ready.
"Why did you ignore my order?"
"I'm sorry."
"I'm your commanding officer. You have a duty and an obligation to follow my orders. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Make this the last time."
"Yes."
Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. The conversation drones on with me playing the part of the lonely boy in pain and in need of praise. It goes like I expect.
Misato shakes her head as she leaves. "If you're going to have that attitude then you have no business piloting."
"Nice ass," I call out.
Except I don't.
"I'm the only one who can pilot it," I say mournfully, "so I'll pilot it."
Misato leaves.
I turn back towards the ceiling. In a voice low enough not to be picked up by any prying microphones I whisper. "Thirteen Angels and 273 days to go...."
# # # # #
# # # # #
I suppose this is the part where I explain the hows and the whys of how I got here. Well, if you find out, tell me.
I had pushed Shinji into the elevator and then I couldn't keep up my tough guy act anymore. I slumped to the ground and splashed down in a pool of my own blood. I remember dying. It didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. The coldness helped, I think. There was a bright white light…
And then Instrumentality.
It was horrible and wonderful at the same time. Wonderful in that for the first time in my life outside that one week I wasn't alone. It doesn't sound like much but not being alone… being part of something, someone greater… there's nothing like it. It fulfilled me in a way I can't fully communicate: more intense than sex, more reassuring than duty, funnier than fun.
Yet it was horrible too. Having your soul pried open and all your deepest secrets and most intimate memories paraded in front of everyone and everyone you ever knew or who knew you? The shame of the violation... the pain that comes with the knowledge of yourself….
It was horrible and wonderful at the same time.
Were you there too? Did you see the stage? The folding chair?
Or was it different for you?
I learned a lot about myself. Some things I didn't want to know. But I did anyways.
And then…
…I was holding a green telephone handle.
# # # # #
# # # # #
They release me later in the evening and Misato takes me home. It's her turn to make dinner (she can't cheat me at rock scissors paper) and Misato cooks instant raman spiced with whatever bottles she grabs from the fridge. Dinner is a bit subdued but not especially tense. I think I managed to get under her skin with my argument.
I belch.
"Manners, Shinji," she mock-chides me.
"Sorry, Miss Misato."
She sighs. "Just call me Misato, okay?"
I nod. "Er, Misato?"
"Yes?"
"Well, uh, next time could you go a bit easier on the hot sauce?"
My eyes are watering and this time it isn't due to emotion.
"Huh?" she glances down at her own bowl in confusion. "It isn't that spicy."
Why is it spicy to me but not to her? Especially since… well, who I was. I chalk it up to the little differences between Shinji's body and my old one. The taste buds must be different. Y'know that old saying about 'X' being a matter of taste? Well, it's true, at least as far as I can figure. That or all that beer I drank and cigarettes I smoked dulled my old body's taste buds.
Taste isn't the only sense that's different either.
"Er, sorry," I say, playing the apologetic Old Shinji I remember to a tee. "I didn't mean anything by it."
Misato waves off my genuflection. "Don't worry. I wasn't offended." She sips her beer. God, I miss beer. It made things so much easier. "But y'know," she says, lean forwards to taunt me with her naughty bits, "if you prefer you can take care of more of the cooking. Then you won't have to worry about the food being too spicy."
"Uh…"
Two problems here. First, I can't cook. Old Shinji did that job and while he wasn't God's Gift to Kitchens he was a hell of a lot better than I ever was. I may be New Shinji but I'm still sorta me. Even if I cave to Misato's "offer" I'll still be eating shitty raman. Which leads me to problem number two – I'm a lazy ass. I pilot Eva and have to deal with this freaky body; let someone else do the goddamn cooking. Like Asuka.
Hmmm… it actually wouldn't be too hard to manipulate her into the kitchen. Maybe she could make me waffles if I play my cards right….
Mmm. Waffles.
But anyways, I'm Shinji Ikari now, so I give a Shinji Ikari answer.
"…sure, Miss Misato. If that's what you want."
Misato sighs. This isn't the victory one she wanted. "No, it's okay. I'll do it too. It's only fair."
I don't have to do more of the cooking?
Huh.
I guess I can still surprise myself.
# # # # #
# # # # #
The next morning I'm walking down a hallway on the second floor of my school when a hand reaches out and yanks me into an empty classroom. Instantly Touji Suzahara is up and in my face.
His halitosis washes over me. "I said this wasn't over, new kid."
The punch to my gut is telegraphed pretty clearly but I let it land. Shinji Ikari doesn't have a decade of combat training. Shinji Ikari doesn't get into street fights or school brawls. Shinji Ikari is Touji Suzahara's bitch.
Touji shoves me backwards into the room. I stumble and catch myself on the blackboard at the front of the classroom.
"Gonna take another cheap shot, new kid?" He prowls back towards the now-locked door, blocking me from the classroom's only viable exit. The smile on his face scares me. "Maybe put some of that hotshot pilot training to use beating up another Suzahara?"
I suddenly realize this isn't about settling a score. Touji's not going to stop. This Touji doesn't see New Shinji as a friend. He never got in my Entry Plug. He never saw me freak out fighting the 4th Angel. He only sees me as the bastard that crippled his little sister. So he's going to do what I'd do in the same situation – take revenge, again and again.
Maybe I could tell him he's hitting a girl.
Shinji Ikari wouldn't stand up to a bully. Shinji Ikari would feel guilty about Touji's sister. He'd passively resist if he resisted at all.
Touji cracks his knuckles for show.
"You know what? Fuck this," I whisper, pulling myself up by the bar running along the bottom of the blackboard. I don't want to have to face a bully every day I go to school. Touji's the type of kid who only respects strength. For this I'll have to break character.
Just this once.
"Ready to show some spine, new kid?" He smirks. "Great. That'll make this fun."
I wait for him to make the first move. He doesn't disappoint me. Touji moves forward with the speed and confidence of a predator but no real discipline. I wait for the punch – this time an uppercut – to be thrown before I…
CRACK!
Touji stumbles backwards.
I don't want to hurt him. Much. I just need to send a message so I don't have to look forward to his bullying every day for the rest of my life… or whatever you'd call this.
But… oh yeah… violence still feels good.
The rest of the fight is pretty pathetic. Touji lands a few blows but I manage to deflect most of their energy with what scraps I can remember from my old Aikido training at GEHIRN's security services boot camp in
I can't help but grin by the end of it. Even with my new center of gravity, shorter height, and lack of breasts to navigate (I don't think I'll ever get used to that) I still manage to waddle my way around 'athletic' Touji Suzahara.
"Look," I say, circling round the kneeling boy, "I'm sorry about your sister. I… I never meant to hurt anyone, but they threw me into that robot with no training."
This is the truth. Turns out all those months of me coaching the kids on how to pilot the Eva was just me talking out of my ass. Asuka really did know more than me about combat. I'll have to see what I can learn from her when she shows up. It'll definitely be useful this time around.
"I had never seen that robot five minutes before they threw me into it. I had never even heard of it."
This is a lie of sorts. Of course I knew. It's just Shinji Ikari didn't know. That means that the new me didn't know either.
"I don't have any family left," I wheeze, my new body unused to such exertion. "Not really. But if I did I think I know I'd be pissed at someone who hurt them too. I'd want to hurt the bastards back."
"D-damn straight," says Touji, rubbing his jaw.
"But if I hadn't piloted that robot everyone would have died. Everyone," I repeat for affect. "So I'm going to keep piloting it until either all the Angels are dead or until I am." Suzahara's starting at the floor. I'm not sure what's going on in his head. Boys! "I know you think this is all bullshit but it's the truth. Aida thinks war is cool. He doesn't know what we know. That people get hurt. People die. But the rest of the world goes on like those people don't matter. And that hurts worse."
I step forward and offer him a hand up. Touji stares at my peace offering with anger, bewilderment, and finally resignation. I'm banking a lot on the menfolk's healing power of kicking ass. If he wants he could snap my wrist before I could react.
He doesn't. Instead he takes my hand and I help him to his feet.
"Don't think this lets you off the hook," he says, taking his hand back and brushing it off on his track suit.
"Yeah," I say lamely.