Capítulo 19: Chapter 19
Misato Katsuragi got home feeling more dead than alive, which lately seemed to be the rule rather than the exception.
She couldn't believe there had been a time when she had actually liked her job-when her sense of duty had pushed her through countless all-nighters without thinking of it as a chore. Right now, though, the warm glow of idealism long snuffed out, she wanted nothing more than to slump down on her bed and sleep. It was a luxury she rarely had, and one of the very few things she still managed to enjoy.
As soon as she entered the apartment she heard the whispering of the TV. Voices too soft and muted to make out properly, almost like ghostly whispers in the back of her head. She had told the children not to leave the TV on when they weren't watching—it was a waste of energy and did not help with the power bill—but things had been so strained lately that she didn't blame them if they disobeyed such an unimportant rule.
Closing the door behind her, Misato took off her shoes on the landing, absently rubbing her tired feet, and flicked on the kitchen light to see where she was headed, She walked into the living room and stopped on her tracks.
To her surprise, she found Asuka lying on her belly in front of the TV set, resting her chin on her hands, completely oblivious to Misato's entrance. In the flickering lights of the gloving tube Misato could see a deeply thoughtful expression on her young face.
Misato didn't want to startle the girl. She thought about simply slipping quietly to her bedroom, but there was something ...
Ever since Asuka came out of the hospital Misato had been too busy to talk to her, to see how she was doing; how she was coping. They rarely saw each other, unintentionally through her odd schedule or maybe because they were subconsciously trying to avoid one another. It didn't matter why, not really.
Either way, she felt guilt that she couldn't dedicate as much time to the girl as she deserved, especially with all that was going on in her life. Like Shinji, at the tender age of fourteen, Asuka had already endured more pain and hurt than most people did in a whole lifetime. Not a day went by that Misato didn't feel sorry for them.
And after being the one who had talked Asuka into coming home, she felt a particular sense of responsibility to her. The young German girl was her ward, yes, and that made it obligatory that she'd be concerned for her well-being. But what she felt was more than a obligation. More like the sort of duty she had once felt for her job. She owed Asuka her concern as someone close to her-the only thing she now that approached what others might call family.
Misato cleared her throat, hoping the noise would alert Asuka to her presence, and finally said, "It's late, Asuka. What are you doing up?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?" Asuka replied in a harsh whisper. She didn't move a muscle; her eyes were still on the screen. "I'm watching a show."
"Go to bed," Misato said, hoping to sound motherly rather than overbearing. "You have a very important test tomorrow. And this time you are also going to school. I know you don't care about it, but you are not playing hookie again. You aren't sick."
Asuka said nothing—she just stared blankly at the TV.
Misato looked at her, trying to see how she'd react then sighed, not sure if the redhead had heard her. "Asuka?"
"What?" Asuka yelled back, her bare shoulders tensed visibly. It was as if just talking with Misato caused her anger to rise beyond control.
"I..." Misato began, but had problems finding the right words. She couldn't treat Asuka like a child, even if she thought she very much was a child. Unlike Shinji, Asuka was so haughty it prohibited any sympathy she might be willing offer. But she had to say something. She had to let her know that she didn't have to carry the burden of being an Eva pilot and a teenager all alone.
"If you want me too," Misato finally managed, "I can talk with Ritsuko and have her stop the tests. Just for a little while. Until you feel up to it again."
There a long moment of silence.
"Why?" Asuka asked simply, her face remaining stony, something hollow sounding in her usual shrill voice. Like she didn't even understand what Misato was offering.
Misato thought about what Ritsuko had said-about Asuka being a like a cat. She hadn't really wanted to believe someone like Ritsuko would know anything about a person's feelings, especially complex ones like a young girl's, but she had to admit she was right. Asuka might not be afraid, but she had been left alone and abandoned inside her little box for so long that she even forgotten what compassion sounded like. Partly, it was Misato's own fault.
"I...don't think the tests are good for you," Misato replied quietly. "I think you could use a break."
"Since when have you been concerned with what is good for me?" Asuka asked, sarcastically. She turned her head slightly so that she could look at Misato out of the corner of her eye, as if measuring her response. Her blue eyes glinted in the glow of the television-icy jewels hard enough to cut diamonds.
"I've always been concerned." Misato said, trying not to let her guilt come across in her words.
Asuka looked her over, eyes moving up and down intently, her feet crossed at the ankles swinging back and forth ever so gently in the air. Then a look of distaste came over her young features, as if she were holding something she didn't like in her mouth. "Only because it's part of your job." She narrowed her eyes. "And only when it's convenient to you."
It hurt to realize she was right. It hurt all the more because Misato would have liked to believe that deep down inside she did care, but the short moments she shared with her ward, when she saw her really early in the morning as she was getting ready for school or later at night simply never allowed her to show it.
But she did care, though perhaps she didn't show it as she should. It was just so hard to care for someone like her ... she didn't make it easy.
"That's not true, Asuka," Misato said honestly, feeling the need to defend herself from the redhead's statements.
"I suppose it's not true, even though you never came to see me in the hospital," Asuka said harshly, looking away from Misato and fixed her gaze back on the television. "I suppose it's not true even though you never talk to me. Everything you need to know about me is in my file, right?"
Something heavy hit Misato in the chest. "It's not...like that. I was just busy. Before. So much happened in so little time, I just never got around to it."
"I suppose I just wasn't very convenient."
"Asuka..." The Major shook her head. "You can't really believe that."
"That's fine," Asuka said. "I don't want you to be concerned for me, just don't say that it isn't true. Don't lie to me. I'm grown up now. I can deal with the truth."
"I was concerned, but..." Misato began, but the right words would not come. How could she justify having abandoned her to Asuka when she couldn't even justify it to herself? "Asuka, you are grown up. But you have to understand that some times we can't do the things we wish we could."
"You don't even believe that. If you are concerned—and I'm not saying I think you are—then it's only because it makes you feel better about yourself," Asuka added. "It makes you feel like a less horrible person. Like the idiot. It has nothing to do with me."
Misato fell silent and just stared at her, stunned at having her words thrown back in her face and knowing all the while that nothing she was being told was wholly untrue.
Asuka appeared indifferent to the argument, for her voice didn't betray a single hint of emotion, not even the anger Misato thought she should rightfully feel.
Never being the reserved type, the redhead seemed to have no more things to say, convinced that she was right and not amount of argument would change her mind. While she certainly had a talent for speaking her mind, that usually meant she was also brutally honest and unabashed when dealing with others. She was good at that. And it pushed people away. People who would otherwise care about her very much.
But maybe, Misato thought, her concern for Asuka was merely out of convenience. That could be the case with someone like her, because she obviously didn't care if Misato was concerned or not. To Asuka it was just selfishness. It was strange to think that she could have missed the point the her ward had just made: that it made her feel like a less horrible person.
Misato could not deny that it did. Asuka had every right to accuse her of being selfish, because that was exactly what she was doing—doing things out of self-interest, like being concerned for someone only when that someone affected her.
Should that not be true, she would have gone to see Asuka in the hospital when she was at her lowest and needed comforting more. Should that not be true, she would gone to her now, where she lay in frnt of the television, and put her arms around her and hugged her because she wanted her to know she was there for her.
"It has everything to do with you because ..." Misato tried, and again could not finish that sentence. She dropped her head. "Then I guess I can't make you change your mind. I know I can't reach you. But I hope you do realize that, despite everything, there are still people around you. Now. And none of them want to see you suffer."
"Those people can go to hell."
Misato wondered what else she had expected of the German girl. But the words still hurtful, made even more so by the serious tone that indicated Asuka was being sincere. That she really did want to be left absolutely, utterly alone. "I'm sorry that's how you see it. I really am, Asuka."
Asuka said nothing, her head dropping slightly, her eyes fixed on the television. From that point on, Misato knew she meant to ignore her. She sighed in resignation.
"Good night, Asuka," she murmured, but tried to keep from sounding defeated. "Go to bed—that's an order from your superior officer."
After watching Asuka snatch up the remote to turn off the television and head towards her room, fairly certain the girl just despised her, Misato turned around and locked herself in her room. She collapsed on her bed exhausted, too tired to bother removing her clothes, and waited for the oblivion of sleep to envelop her.
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