'When was the first time it finally happened… the moment it felt like there might actually be a reason for all of it?'
…No. That's not quite right either.
It wasn't really the moment when everything suddenly started making sense. It was more like the first time something happened that made me think… maybe all of it had been leading up to this moment. To this very purpose.
And from that point on, I remember everything clearly.
I was around twelve when it happened, just out of elementary school. Which, honestly, is a terrible age for something important to happen to you.
I remember sitting in a stiff plastic chair in the counselling room. There were two of them. Men in dark suits and sunglasses that looked way too expensive for a middle school hallway. And yeah, I was convinced they were from some dark, mysterious organization that had finally come looking for me. I kept staring at them, half hoping one of them would pull out a long black trench coat or some kind of secret badge. Something like the mangas I read.
Because of course there had to be a magnificent, cosmic reason why I had been made to live as the "special child" all this time… why I had been kept lingering just beyond the veil of this dull, ordinary world, as if destiny itself had been deliberately hiding me away until the moment my true purpose would finally awaken.
Then, one of them said the word.
"You've been Selected."
"Um…what do you mean by selected for what?" I asked them.
"Well, based on the evaluations, you've been selected to participate in a special pilot program being conducted by a United Nations–affiliated organization known as Marduk Institute."
'Eh…? Pilot program?' For a second I pictured fighter jets slicing through clouds. I didn't ask what I'd be piloting. Because obviously, when a shadow organization tells you you're special, you don't ask follow-up questions. That's how you get demoted to Background Character #3.
'Muhaa… ha… hahahaha!' I didn't actually laugh out loud. That would've been suspicious. But inside my mind it echoed dramatically, like the villain reveal in a late-night anime.
So, it finally happened. I knew it.
'Take that, you bastard Ryotaro. You and the rest of those mundane sheep can keep your stupid recess games and your pathetic, normal lives. When the truth of my existence is finally revealed, all of you losers are probably going to faint on the spot.'
Trying to keep the excitement from showing, I slowly shifted in the chair. I crossed one leg over the other, folded my arms, and tilted my head down slightly, the way cool characters do when they're about to say something important.
Then I lifted my eyes and gave them what I thought was a mysterious, thousand-yard stare.
"I see," I muttered, lowering my voice in what I hoped sounded mysterious. "So… it begins. The world has finally noticed me, waiting for me to emerge from the shadows and fulfill the… the ancient, slumbering prophecy woven into my very blood."
Another pause. Then I added, lowering my voice even more,
"…Very well." I said.
I gestured toward the door like I had already accepted my role in this grand design.
"Do lead the way, gentlemen."
For a moment, the room was completely silent. Inside my head, it looked perfect. Yeah. That was good. Calm. Mysterious. Exactly the kind of line someone chosen by a secret organization was supposed to say. I could practically imagine the scene from the outside. Two agents stunned into silence by the quiet dignity of the person they had come to recruit.
'Muhaa… ha… hahahaha!' The laugh echoed loudly inside my head because the way I said it sounded really cool. My chest started to shake and I had to clamp a hand over my mouth before it escaped for real.
The dark energy bubbling inside me was getting harder to contain. If I let it escape now, it might erupt into a full manic laugh and unleash itself on the world.
One of the men leaned slightly toward the other. "…Is he okay?" he whispered.
The other frowned. "…Kid, are you about to throw up?"
I froze. The 'dark energy' didn't just vanish it turned into a cold sweat that broke out across my forehead.
"I… no," I squeaked. "I'm not… I'm not going to barf."
"You sure?" the first man asked, leaning back a half-inch as if to protect his expensive shoes and the other one gave me a long, doubtful look.
"Yea—I mean, indeed. I will not," I corrected myself, trying to force my voice back down to a deep kind of whisper.
Inside, I was completely confused. 'What's with this reaction? Can't they see how mysterious and different I am?' I narrowed my eyes slightly. 'Wait. Is this a hidden code? Some kind of psychological test from the organization to see if I break under pressure? Should I not react?'
'Yes, that had to be it.' I held my breath and kept my thousand-yard stare locked on the wall. After that, I didn't say anything. Even when they asked me a few questions, I stayed silent. Obviously, they were trying to break me by calling me weird and asking strange things.
'Hah. I can see right through their little test.'
The two men exchanged a glance. "…Is this really the right kid?" one of them muttered.
The other man hesitated. "…The file says so."
"Hikigaya… Hachiman, right?" he murmured. "There couldn't be another one with the same name I mean looking at him its hard…?"
My heart instantly dropped into my stomach. As they looked like they might start to leave any minute.
"Yeah, we should recheck the entire thing who knows—
"W-wait," I blurted out, the mysterious aura collapsing on the spot. "No…no There's no other Hikigaya! It's me! I'm the one! I'll talk! I'll answer everything! Just… please don't leave! I'm the Selected! Look, I'm standing up! I'm normal! See?"
They both stared at me in silence, exchanging a strange look between them.
As I felt their gaze, something inside me shrank instantly. I didn't even understand why, but at that moment I had this overwhelming urge to dig a hole right there in the counseling room floor and bury myself in it. Deep enough that no one would ever have to see my face again… including me.
Unfortunately, the world didn't give me enough time to disappear.
The next thing I knew, I was standing inside a large white room wearing a loose hospital-style gown that felt too big for me. Honestly, I had been expecting something closer to a jet fighter pilot's gear, not something that made me feel like I was about to get a medical checkup instead of fulfill some grand purpose.
There were cables everywhere, and a few technicians were talking into microphones. Behind a thick glass window, a group of adults watched me like I was either extremely important… or extremely concerning.
Which one it was… well, I honestly couldn't tell.
Later, once they finished conducting the tests, they showed me charts. Compatibility percentages. Words like "synchronization" and "neural resonance." I didn't understand any of it, but it sounded important, and more importantly, it sounded exclusive, special.
One of the technicians leaned toward another screen and nodded while someone else scribbled something on a clipboard. Near the consoles, a woman in a white lab coat studied the chart for a long moment, her short blonde hair catching the glow of the monitors. A small beauty mark beneath her eye made her easy to pick out among the others.
After a moment, she lifted her gaze and looked straight at me. Her expression didn't change much. If anything, it looked closer to quiet expectation.
Something inside my chest lifted. So, this was it the moment where everything will finally start to make sense, huh.
Or so I thought.
As I stepped out of the building, the cold air hit my face and finally pulled me out of the strange excitement I adjusted the strap of my bag and started down the walkway.
Then something felt… wrong.
Immediately, I reached behind me and unzipped my bag. When I looked inside, there were some papers, the instruction sheet, and a pencil.
But there was no monkey.
"…Wait."
I searched again, pushing the papers aside and checking the bottom of the bag.
"W…where's Yotsu?" For a moment I just stared inside the bag like the answer might suddenly appear if I looked hard enough. Then my memory slowly caught up with me.
Right before the tests started, I had been sitting in the dressing room feeling strangely nervous since everything around me felt so overwhelming. So, I took Yotsu out of the bag and I remembered placing him on the bench beside me while I waited. Then someone had opened the door and called out for me to hurry.
And in all the excitement… I had left him sitting on the bench in the dressing room.
"…Ah. I left him there."
Before I could think about it any further, I turned around and ran back toward the dressing room inside the institutions building. It had to still be there. I had only left a few minutes ago. No one would even notice something like that.
But when I tried to go back inside, one of the staff members near the entrance stepped in front of me.
"Sorry, kid. The testing area is closed right now. Maintenance is starting."
"I just need to grab something," I said quickly.
He shook his head. "No one's allowed inside once maintenance begins."
"I forgot something in the dressing room."
The man looked at me for a moment. "What is it? If it's in there, I can bring it back for you."
For a second the words almost came out. 'A monkey plushie.' But the moment I imagined saying it out loud, my mouth stopped. The thought of explaining that someone my age carried a stuffed toy around suddenly felt unbearably embarrassing. I didn't want to look that lame.
"…It's nothing," I muttered instead, scratching the back of my head. "Nothing too important, never mind."
I turned and walked away before he could ask anything else.
'It's fine,' I told myself. 'Who's going to steal a damn plushie in a high-security UN facility?'
Besides, I had to come back tomorrow anyway to finish the paperwork. Yeah. I'd just pick it up then.
That would be much easier.
He wasn't there.
When I returned the next morning, the bench was bare. For a moment I just stood there, staring at the empty space like my eyes might have simply missed him. I checked the floor first, then the lockers, then the corners of the room where something small could have slipped out of sight. But there was nothing there.
"…Huh?"
I stepped back into the hallway and asked one of the caretakers if anyone had found a small monkey plushie. This time I didn't hesitate to say it. Thinking about it now, staying quiet yesterday suddenly felt like the stupidest thing I have ever done.
"A plushie?"
"Yeah. It was of brown and white colour. I might've left it here yesterday."
He shook his head and said he hadn't seen anything like that. I asked another person, then another, but each of them gave me the same answer. No one had seen it. No one remembered picking anything up.
After a while I stopped asking. There wasn't really anything else I could do. So, after finishing all the necessary paperwork I left the building empty-handed.
When I got home, I pushed the door open. "I'm home," I mumbled.
Silence.
Right. I'd forgotten. Mom, Dad, and Komachi had gone on that trip. I was the only one who stayed behind, just like always. It was something I was used to. But for some reason, that day the silence in the house felt… strange, almost suffocating.
I dropped my bag by the door and went to my room, still thinking about Yotsu. It wasn't like the plushie itself was the one who talked to me anyway. He always appeared in my dreams. Losing the toy shouldn't really matter.
That night I went to sleep expecting to see him again like always.
But the dream stayed quiet.
And after that night, I never heard from Yotsu again.
------0------
"Hey! Hey there, Captain Katsuragi!"
Hachiman shouted at the top of his lungs, waving his arms desperately.
"Over here! It's me, the underpaid minor known as Hikigaya Hachiman! Please, stop the car!"
He let out a sigh of relief, thinking he had finally caught a lucky break since leaving the shelter. Even though the car was moving fast, he could clearly make out two people inside and was absolutely certain the driver was Misato Katsuragi.
As for the second person, it was harder to identify. The car was moving too fast, and the angle didn't help.
He hoped that their past meetings would be enough to get her to pull over. They had crossed paths a few times at NERV HR seminars, though their relationship wasn't exactly built on deep trust. In fact, their longest conversation had gone like this:
"Can you wake me up when they take the signatures?" she had asked him, leaning back in her chair.
"Sure. Five thousand yen," Hachiman had replied.
"Are you for real, brat?"
On second thought, remembering that conversation actually made him feel less certain about his chances. If her memory of him was just a kid trying to extort her for nap-insurance, she might not be in a hurry to help. He watched the car fly toward him, waiting for the brakes to squeal, but it didn't slow down at all.
The car was suddenly right on top of him. Hachiman realized at the last second that he was about to become a permanent part of the road. He scrambled backward and tripped, falling hard into the dirt just as the car roared past. The wind from the vehicle's speed nearly knocked the air out of his lungs.
As the car flew by, he caught a glimpse of a dark-haired boy in the passenger seat who looked absolutely terrified.
"MISATO-SAN! There's a zombie on the side of the road!" A voice screamed. Followed by another one.
"AH! YOUR RIGHT DON'T LET IT BITE YOU, SHINJI!"
After the shout car suddenly picked up even more speed, disappearing into the distance and leaving Hachiman sitting in a thick cloud of dust and exhaust.
"…Excuse me? What the fuck?"
Hachiman sat there for a long moment, blinking as the grit slowly settled over his clothes. He brushed some of the dust from his sleeve, only managing to smear it further across the fabric.
He glanced at the side mirror of a nearby wreck and caught his reflection.
Dust coated most of his face, dulling his features into a flat gray. A thin line of dried blood ran from his hairline down his temple, stiff where it had mixed with dirt. His hair, normally dark, now looked faded under the dust, sticking out unevenly, and one shoulder of his shirt was completely caked in dirt. Combined with his naturally dead-looking eyes, the "zombie" description wasn't entirely unfair.
"Great," he muttered, pushing himself up. "First apocalyptic attack of my life and I get typecast as an undead roadside hazard."
Behind him, the distant tremor of something massive shifting its weight rolled across the city once more. He glanced toward the rising smoke, then back at the now empty road.
"I am absolutely reporting her ass."
As new blisters began forming under his feet, Hachiman kept moving toward his destination. He mentally began drafting a very detailed complaint against Misato Katsuragi.
"I'm going to mention that she shows up drunk at work, steals office supplies, and LEAVES STAFF STRANDED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING APOCALYPSE."
The outer road curved along a ridge overlooking the valley leading toward the Geofront. The further he went, the quieter everything became. Most of the artillery fire had shifted closer to the battlefield, leaving this stretch of road in an uneasy calm.
That was when he saw the wreckage.
Vehicles were scattered across the roadside as if someone had dropped them and never returned. An armoured truck hung halfway over the guardrail, its rear wheels suspended above the slope. A jeep had crashed headfirst into a concrete barrier, the front completely crushed. Another vehicle had rolled down the hillside and now lay on its side several meters below.
Thin trails of smoke drifted from damaged engines. Hachiman slowed as soon as he noticed the marking on the convoy. His gaze fixed on it, and for a moment his mind went blank.
Delta-09. The UN rescue unit.
The same group he had almost joined earlier.
"…You've got to be kidding me," he murmured.
It didn't look like they had been hit directly. There were no obvious blast marks around the vehicles themselves. But they must have been close. Close enough when that cross-shaped explosion struck somewhere deeper in the forest, near where the heavy artillery had been firing. The shockwave could have reached them while they were still moving.
Maybe the drivers lost control when the ground shifted beneath them, the impact throwing the vehicles off balance. Some of them had clearly collided, while others had slid off the road and down the slope. It looked less like a battlefield and more like the aftermath of a large traffic accident.
He stood there quietly for a moment.
If he had gone with them…
He pictured himself inside one of those trucks when the shockwave hit, the seatbelt locking tight as the metal around him twisted and collapsed.
"…Maybe my luck isn't that bad after all."
He started to walk carefully between the wrecked vehicles. The air was thick with the smell of burnt oil and leaking coolant.
"Hello?" he called out. "Anyone alive?"
He checked the first jeep and saw the driver slumped against the door, covered in blood. He didn't need to check for a pulse to know it was too late. He kept moving, passing a truck where medical supplies and ammunition boxes were spilled across the ground. He saw a soldier pinned under a vehicle and quickly looked away.
He stepped around the back of a truck, and that was when he heard it.
"wa…water"
The voice was so faint he almost thought he imagined it.
"…water… p…please…" It came from further down the slope.
Hachiman immediately moved toward the voice. A soldier lay half against the embankment a little way down the slope. His uniform was torn and dark with blood. His helmet had rolled a few meters away. His eyes were open but unfocused.
"…thirsty… please, hu…hurts"
The faint, broken way he spoke made each word uncomfortable to hear, as if forcing them out was causing him pain.
Hachiman crouched beside him. Up close, the man looked considerably worse than he had from the road, his lips cracked, one eye swollen shut, and most of his face streaked with dirt and dried blood.
"I don't have any water on me, Can you tell me where to look?"
The man's eyes shifted weakly toward the wrecked vehicles on the road above.
Hachiman climbed back up and began searching the nearest trucks, pulling open storage compartments one after another. Crates had been smashed open during the crash, their contents scattered across the ground. He found several water containers, but they were cracked or leaking. Anything in a glass bottle had long since shattered.
He dug through a discarded field pack and pushed aside a heavy box of ammunition, growing more frustrated by the second. Nothing he found was actually useful for a man dying of thirst on a hillside.
"That's great," he muttered under his breath. "Enough bullets to fight a small war, but not a single drop of water."
That was when something else caught his eye. Leaning against one of the damaged transport trucks was a military motorcycle. Aside from a single snapped-off mirror, it looked completely intact. It was a sturdy, military-issue machine, and Hachiman's heart skipped a beat.
"Is this for real?"
He reached the bike and checked the ignition. There was no key in it. He stared at the empty slot for a second.
"…Of course there isn't." His eyes moved instinctively to the ground around it. If the key had fallen during the crash, it couldn't be far. With this, he could reach the Geofront in a fraction of the time his legs were going to manage. He looked around at the nearby bushes, thinking that if someone had been about to use the bike when the blast hit, the keys might have fallen nearby.
Then he remembered the soldier waiting down the slope.
"…Right. Priorities," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
Realistically, he might not even find usable water, and the man already looked like he was barely holding on. Meanwhile, every minute spent here increased the chance of missing whatever timing he had calculated in his head. He had already wasted enough time trying to play the Good Samaritan.
If he didn't reach the Geofront in time—
No.
He exhaled quietly. "…Just get on with it."
But then, the faint sound of a cough drifted up from the embankment.
"…thirsty…" The voice was barely audible. "I'm… so thirsty…"
Hachiman let out a long, tired sigh and turned back toward the convoy. He knew he should probably just look for the keys, but he also knew that if he didn't at least try to help, he'd feel terrible about it later. His mental peace was worth a few extra minutes of searching.
He went back to the wreckage, moving faster now. He tossed aside more ruined supplies and searched through the overturned crates until he finally spotted something. Tucked half-underneath a medical kit was a plastic field canteen. He grabbed it and gave it a quick shake.
It sloshed.
"Finally," he murmured, and immediately ran back down the slope as fast as he could toward where the soldier was lying.
"Hey," he said quietly, slightly out of breath. "I brought water."
The man gave a weak cough, his body barely moving. Hachiman quickly began unscrewing the lid as he leaned closer to help him drink, but his hands suddenly froze when he realized the soldier had already gone completely still. His head had tilted slightly to the side against the dirt, and the strained tension that had been on his face only moments earlier had quietly faded.
Hachiman stared at him for a long moment, the canteen frozen in his hand. "Ah... looks like I'm late," he said, biting his tongue.
He wasn't sure what the right thing to do was in a situation like this. He felt a bit hollow, standing over a man who had died waiting for something as simple as water. Out of a weird sense of obligation, he crouched down anyway. He opened the canteen and tilted a small amount of water against the man's lips. He didn't expect him to wake up. It just felt better than doing nothing. The water ran down the soldier's chin, dripping into the dirt.
He stopped and capped the bottle.
"…Yeah."
As he slowly stood up, his eyes caught the soldier's hand. It had been clenched tightly against his chest before, but now the fingers had loosened slightly. Something small and metallic slipped from his palm and fell softly onto the ground.
Hachiman bent down and picked it up.
"…Is this a key?"
He turned it between his fingers, then glanced back toward the road where the motorcycle was still leaning against the damaged truck. Then his gaze returned to the soldier… and to the distance between here and the road.
"…You were trying to leave with this," he murmured quietly. From the way the body was positioned, it looked like the soldier had tried to make his way up the slope before collapsing just short of reaching it.
"…Almost made it, huh." He hesitated for a moment. "…You can rest now."
Hachiman turned the key over in his fingers once before slipping it into his pocket.
"Sorry, I can't stay here," he said quietly, "But I'll make sure someone comes back for the convoy later to get this sorted out."
He took one last look at the scene, then turned and began walking toward the motorcycle.
------0------
'When did it start becoming obvious that the place I thought I belonged didn't need me the way I thought it did?'
"Obvious" might be a bit too strong.
I mean, it didn't happen all at once. It was more like little things piling up, one after another, until I couldn't ignore them anymore.
But then how did it all start piling up like that?
If I had to point to the beginning, to the moment where the first piece quietly fell into place… I'd probably say it started when I heard those words.
Yeah. Those words.
[CONGRATULATIONS. YOU'VE BEEN APPROVED FOR ADVANCE DUMMY PLUG INTERFACE CALIBRATION.]
I remember hearing them during the first few weeks after the Marduk tests.
'Congratulations. Congratulations. Congratulations.'
I repeated that word in my head three times. Approved. For something new. Dummy Plug… whatever that was. But "interface calibration" sounded technical. Important. Like they were finally giving me something bigger.
Something about that feeling reminded me of when Komachi used to say I could save the world. This had to be it. The step up. The point where they finally decided I was ready for more.
Not long after that, they told me we'd be going somewhere else. This wasn't where the main work happened, apparently. The way they explained it sounded casual, but the words themselves didn't feel casual at all.
They said they were transferring me to NERV Main headquarters.
NERV
I already knew what NERV was. Actually, who didn't, especially in Tokyo-3? After all, the city was basically a company town for this semi-public organization under the United Nations. People always said it was some massive research group meant to protect humanity after the Second Impact and make sure something like it never happened again.
And in Tokyo-3, almost every family had someone who worked for NERV, directly or indirectly.
"NERV isn't just the buildings you see on the surface," my handler told me. "The real heart of it is directly beneath Tokyo-3 a massive underground facility called the Geofront."
"Many people in the city know something is down there," he added, "but the actual details are restricted. Only those with high-level clearance people like you are allowed to go that far in."
Wait! High-level clearance. People like me. Really?
After a while, once they finished all the paperwork and procedures, they led me into one of the long underground corridors and onto a giant escalator that kept moving down without stopping.
The walls and infrastructure around us felt completely mechanical, and I could even feel a low hum through the soles of my feet. I held the railing and kept wondering how deep we were actually going to go. Part of me kept expecting it to stop any second, like escalators usually do, but it didn't. It felt strange descending like that with no end in sight, but there was also a quiet excitement in it.
Then, without warning, the tunnel opened.
My breath caught as I emerged into a hollow world so vast it felt like the sky had been turned inside out. I looked up, and my brain struggled to make sense of what I was seeing a ceiling of skyscrapers hanging upside down like metallic teeth. Below them, a lush green forest and a sprawling blue lake stretched out, looking like an entire valley had been stolen from the surface and hidden in a jar.
In the center of it all sat a monolithic black pyramid, silent and intimidating amidst a haze of artificial sunlight that felt real,
For a moment, I just stared. But something about my reaction felt wrong even to me.
I should have felt wonder. Like the protagonist finally arriving at the hidden castle. But the moment my brain caught up with what I was seeing, a sudden urge to turn away and leave hit me out of nowhere. A chill ran down my spine, and my left hand moved on its own, gripping the fabric of my shirt over my heart. My fingers trembled, and I leaned back against the escalator wall for a second until the feeling passed.
My handler glanced at me. "What's the matter, Kid?"
"N-no… nothing," I said quickly.
He studied me for a moment. "I expected you to be excited after seeing all this. Your reaction is a little unusual. Did the scenery overwhelm you?"
"Ye—yeah," I said, nodding quickly. "It's just… a lot to take in."
That's what I told him. That's what I told myself, too. But as I stood there in that artificial sunlight, I couldn't help but wonder why I felt little chilly.
I told myself it was just the air down here. Or the height. Or maybe I just wasn't used to it yet. The feeling didn't go away, though, so I tried not to think too much about it. After all, this was supposed to be a good day. No point thinking about unpleasant things.
As the escalator started entering the black pyramid-like structure, my handler checked his tablet. He didn't look at me when he spoke.
"We're heading to the lower levels for your initial baseline, The researchers are waiting for the Zeroth."
"Zeroth?" I repeated the word. "Yeah," he said without looking up. "That's what they're calling you."
It sounded like a rank. The first of the first. An origin point. The kind of name given to a secret weapon in a light novel.
At the time, I didn't question it. I just went along with it.
The rooms there were well, how should I put it? Cold? No, not exactly. It wasn't the temperature.
It was just… too clean. The air always smelled faintly of ozone and floor wax. Behind the thick observation glass, people moved between monitors with quiet efficiency, speaking to each other in voices I could hear but couldn't quite catch.
At first, I assumed that meant I was important. That they were discussing something significant about me. Eventually I stopped trying to hear what they were saying.
The tests themselves blurred together. Electrodes, sync-pattern measurements, brain mapping, Same white walls and mechanical adjustments every day. Same careful, impersonal hands checking contact points without explanation.
During one session, a cable slipped during an adjustment. The metal edge pressed hard into my shoulder. I flinched before I could stop myself.
Nobody paused. Someone nearby said "Continue" in the same tone they used for everything else, and the test went on. I sat still after that. I didn't want to cause problems.
I started paying more attention after that. Watching for the things that made them actually stop. Eventually I worked it out: they stopped for equipment. They stopped for data irregularities. They stopped when a reading didn't match the expected value.
"His brain waves are stable."
"Good. Maintain current parameters."
For a second, I didn't understand what they meant. Were they talking about me? The way they said it sounded so ordinary that I wondered if I'd misunderstood. After that, I listened more carefully whenever they spoke.
My hands were shaking, but no one said anything about it. I figured they must have noticed and decided it wasn't important, for now.
Someone adjusts the band around my head, tightening the small contact pads against my scalp, and I stay still while they mention something about preparing me for the real thing soon.
If they say my neural wave patterns are stable, then I must be doing something right. Still, the word keeps coming back: compatibility. I keep wondering what exactly I'm supposed to be compatible with.
Then came the suit.
They called it a plugsuit. To me, it just felt like a second, tighter skin I hadn't asked for. It was embarrassing to wear. For a second I wondered if this was really necessary, or if someone had just decided this was the most uncomfortable way to dress a person.
Standing there while they adjusted it, I didn't know where to look. I kept trying not to move too much, hoping they'd finish faster if I stayed still.
The technicians didn't care. They handled me like a mannequin, pulling at the fabric and checking sensors.
"We're using a dry lubricant for the first interface," a woman said over the intercom, "Talcum powder. It'll prevent the suit from chafing during LCL immersion."
They dusted the inside until it was white and chalky. It itched immediately, the fine grit settling into my skin and making my throat feel dry. Then they sealed me into the Entry Plug, a narrow metallic space that felt too small once the hatch closed.
I remember the sound first. A dull roar, like a distant waterfall. Then the liquid touched my feet. It was warm. Too warm. It smelled like iron, like the taste in your mouth after your lip starts bleeding.
I followed the breathing exercises they'd taught me. Slow. Even. Trust the fluid.
But the powder changed everything. As the LCL rose past my chin, the talcum powder didn't just disappear. It dissolved into a thick, gritty paste. When the liquid finally flooded my nose and mouth, I didn't breathe in life-sustaining oxygen. I breathed in wet, chalky sludge.
My lungs didn't just reject it. They panicked. I started to gag, my chest heaving against the restraints. The fluid was thick in my throat, sticking to the back of my tongue. I wanted to scream, to tell them something was wrong, but the LCL just pushed deeper. My vision was starting to get blurry at the edges, the white light of the plug turning into a dull, pulsing gray.
Through the haze, I could hear them talking.
"Respiratory distress observed."
"Likely particulate contamination."
"Note response time."
But no one said stop. They weren't trying to save me. They were watching to see how long it took for my body to figure out how to stop dying.
I don't know how long it lasted. Eventually, my lungs stopped fighting and just... accepted it. The grit washed away, and the oxygen started to flow. But the panic didn't leave. It just settled into my bones, becoming a permanent part of my architecture.
When the test finally ended and the plug drained, I sat there shivering in the empty tube. The suit clung to me with a wet, heavy sound. My throat felt like I'd swallowed a handful of needles.
A technician opened the hatch and handed me a towel without looking at me. He was already writing something down on a clipboard.
"The powder was a mistake," he muttered to a colleague. "We'll use the synthetic gel next time."
'Next time, huh.'
I took the towel and sat there a moment longer. Still shaking slightly. Waiting. I wasn't sure what for. After a while, I climbed out on my own.
That was around when I started noticing something. Pain didn't seem to mean failure here. Most of the time, it didn't even slow anything down unless it reached a point where the body simply couldn't endure it anymore.
"Increase the LCL pressure."
"Add the body double."
"Raise it to 0.21."
They said things like that while watching the monitors, writing numbers down without looking at me. At first, I assumed it meant everything was going well. If they weren't worried, then I probably didn't need to be either.
After that, they ran more tests like sync-pattern analysis and brain mapping. Most of them focused on my head. Sometimes they put me back into the capsule and filled it with LCL again. By then it was easier. My body didn't fight it the way it had before, and after a while it even started to feel… comfortable.
And somehow, that started bothering me a little. I didn't know how to put it into words, just that something about it felt wrong.
Near the end of one session, while the technician was logging the final readings, I heard two of them talking on the other side of the glass. They weren't being quiet about it. They probably assumed I wasn't listening, or that it didn't matter either way.
"His brainwave patterns are regulating," someone said. "Delta suppression is holding, and the limbic response is lower than baseline."
"Good," another voice replied. "That should improve signal noise during synchronization mapping."
There was a pause, then the faint sound of keys being pressed.
"MAGI's projections were accurate," the first one added. "His neural feedback curve matches the predicted model almost perfectly."
"Then log it," someone else said. "We can use this for the others."
The technician finished with the last contact point and made a note on his clipboard.
I looked at my hands. "When do I find out what it's all for?" I asked. "What I'm actually going to be doing?"
"Soon," he said, the same way someone says fine when you ask how they're doing.
"You keep saying that."
"Well… once the basic setup phase is complete, you'll be briefed. Until then, don't worry. We'll take proper care of you."
"…Alright." That was all I said. I didn't really know what else to ask after that. Either way, they seemed satisfied, because he made one last mark on his page and left without looking back.
But even after that, while they went back to what they were doing, I found myself wondering more and more what exactly they were waiting to see happen. And when I learned how to stay still through it, how to step back inside myself and just watch instead of react, I told myself that meant I was improving.
If I laughed afterward or acted like nothing bothered me, that felt easier too. Pain, after all, was easier to get through if I treated it like it wasn't serious… wasn't it? After all, that's what I'd done my whole life.
And by then, without anyone ever saying it out loud, it had already started becoming clear to me.
'Maybe they didn't need me. At least… not the way I was hoping this whole time.'
------0------
Hachiman was not good at riding the motorcycle, and that became obvious almost immediately. The engine reacted too quickly to even small movements of his wrist, causing the bike to jerk forward more than he intended.
"…Ow— okay, okay… it's under control… more or less. Not bad… considering this is my first time on a motorcycle," he muttered to himself, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
The moment the road dipped slightly, the frame shifted beneath him, and the sudden change in balance forced him to tighten his grip on the handle. The motorcycle wobbled more than he liked, making him adjust his posture again and again just to keep it steady.
"Focus, focus... I don't want to fall like I did with that bicycle an hour ago,"
An hour earlier, he had already managed to embarrass himself with a bicycle. Repeating the experience at a higher speed would not improve the situation. He carefully adjusted the throttle, caught in a frustrating middle ground where he was going too fast to feel in control but too slow to actually make good time.
The road toward the Geofront felt abandoned rather than empty. Cars were left at strange angles with their doors wide open, and personal belongings were scattered across the asphalt as if people had simply dropped everything to run for their lives. Somewhere far beyond the horizon, something massive was moving.
He couldn't see it yet, but the air felt heavy and charged, like a storm that was waiting for the right moment to break.
The motorcycle continued forward in an uneven rhythm, the engine responding too quickly whenever Hachiman adjusted the throttle. He was still getting used to the balance when a faint crackling sound reached his ears.
At first, he thought it was just another loose part of the bike rattling from the earlier damage, but the sound came again, in broken manner.
"…—anyone… can… hear…" The words were incomplete, swallowed by interference.
Hachiman glanced down briefly, trying to locate the source without losing control of the motorcycle.
"There's a radio on this?" Near the handle, secured loosely beside the speedometer, a small radio unit flickered weakly, its speaker producing uneven bursts of sound.
"…hello… UN… anyone…"
He slowed slightly, keeping one hand steady while the other adjusted the small dial on the side of the radio. After a bit of fiddling, the static cleared just enough for the voice to become understandable.
"Is… is anyone receiving this? UN rescue team… are you on the way…?"
Hachiman didn't answer. He stared at the road ahead, his throat feeling tight. He knew the truth the convoy was gone, and the soldiers who were supposed to be the "rescue" were currently lying in the dirt behind him. If he spoke, he'd be the one to tell them that their help wasn't coming.
In the background of the transmission, he could hear other noises. There was the sound of someone crying in pain and a frantic voice trying to calm them down. It was only a few words, but it was enough to tell him how bad things were on that side. These people were waiting for a miracle, and the motorcycle he was currently struggling to ride was the only part of that miracle left.
The radio sputtered again. "Please... can anyone hear us? Someone, please respond."
Hachiman tightened his grip slightly on the handle.
'I…I need to get to the Geofront,' he thought. 'That's the only reason I'm out here. If I stop now, if I get pulled into this, I lose the window entirely. This is the one chance and if I miss it then none of the rest of it matters anyway.'
In the background of the transmission, he heard a muffled cry of pain, followed by a woman's voice trying to shush someone. "It's okay, it's okay... help is coming. The UN is coming."
The hope in her voice made Hachiman's stomach turn.
"Is anyone receiving?" the radio pleaded again. "Please... we're running out of time. Is anyone out there?"
"Son of a... damn it, Haaah" he hissed, followed by a few quiet curses he usually saved for his worst days at school. "Why does this have to happen to me? I just want to reach the Geofront without dying. Why do I keep stumbling into this kind of crap?"
He looked at the empty road ahead, then back at the radio. He could just keep driving. He could pretend the radio was broken. No one would ever know. But then he heard that faint, sobbing sound from the background of the call again.
He let out a sharp, frustrated breath and finally slammed his thumb onto the talk button.
"The convoy took heavy damage look uh… I'm going to be honest with you. Most of the crew is... they're not coming. There isn't going to be a big rescue team."
There was a sudden, heavy silence on the other end. Then, the voice came back, sounding even more frantic. "What do you mean? Who is this? We'll take anyone! Please, we have people who can't walk. We'll take anyone at all!"
Hachiman bit his lip, feeling the weight of the key in his pocket.
"Fine. Whatever, I'm on my way. I've got a bike and some medical supplies on it. Just... tell me the location again so I don't waste time looking for you."
"Shelter B27!" the person shouted, the relief in their voice almost painful to hear. "It's near the main entrance to the city's inner ring, right where the Geofront access starts. Please, hurry!"
Hachiman nodded, even though they couldn't see him. B27. It was technically on his way, though he'd have to cut through a few side streets and navigate around the buckled pavement. If he was lucky, there was a hidden entrance near there that led straight into the lower levels of the Geofront.
"Alright. B27. I'm moving," Hachiman said as he let go of the button and twisted the throttle. The bike let out a sharp growl and jerked forward, nearly throwing him off again.
"Focus, Hikigaya," he whispered, squinting against the wind and the dust. "Get there, drop the stuff, and get out. Simple."
He knew it wouldn't be simple. Nothing today had been simple. But he kicked the bike into a higher gear anyway and sped off toward the rising smoke of the inner city.
The wind whipped past Hachiman's face as he pushed the motorcycle to its limit. He was finally getting the hang of the machine, his movements becoming more fluid as he navigated the long, sweeping turns of the roadway leading towards the shelter.
"Alright… this isn't so bad, turns out survival instinct really is a pretty decent instructor."
With fewer abandoned vehicles blocking the road, he gradually increased speed. The motorcycle responded smoothly, the vibration steady now instead of unpredictable. Buildings began to rise more densely around him as he entered the main operational area of Tokyo-3. Signs of hurried evacuation were visible everywhere. Traffic signals blinked uselessly above empty intersections, while a few barricades had been left half-raised, abandoned mid-use.
He was getting close.
A few moments ago, he had even spotted the hidden service entrance he'd been planning to use, one that led straight into the Geofront's lower levels. If he hadn't answered that radio call and taken the detour toward shelter B27, he might already be inside by now.
"Should have just kept my mouth shut," he muttered, though he didn't slow down.
Then he saw it.
"…holy hell…"
Far ahead, near the very center of the city, a massive silhouette stood against the smoke-filled sky. It was already standing directly above the Geofront, methodically trying to tear its way through the layers of reinforced armor that protected the NERV headquarters below.
"…so, it made it this far…"
At the same time, weapons were firing at it from every direction. Defensive batteries had risen from beneath the city, launching continuous attacks, but the Angel looked barely affected as it continued forcing its way downward.
"They still haven't deployed 'that' to stop it…" he muttered. "That just proves my point even more. Maybe I—"
He stopped mid-sentence. As two narrow points of light began forming in the Angel's mask, faint at first but rapidly intensifying.
"…wait…"
Two long-range blasts cut across the city with terrifying precision. The impact didn't just cause an explosion; it felt like the world had been torn open. Massive, pink-tinted crosses of light erupted where the beams hit, that surged upward into the sky before scattering into fading fragments.
The shockwave followed almost immediately.
The ground beneath the motorcycle jolted violently, the sudden force traveling through the road and into the frame of the bike.
The handlebars jerked sharply to the side as the road trembled beneath the tires. The sudden vibration broke the fragile balance he had only just started to maintain.
"Oh, come on—"
The shockwave didn't just echo through the air; the force pushed hard against the side of the motorcycle. The front tire slipped on loose dust, and the handlebars twisted abruptly almost threatening to snap his wrists.
He knew in that split second that if he tried to fight the bike, it would flip and launch him into the air. Instead, he forced himself to lean into the fall. He pushed the bike down, letting it slide out from under him. The metal frame scraped against the road with a screeching sound that vibrated through his teeth, and Hachiman went down with it.
The road tore at his clothes as he slid across the pavement, his momentum carrying him toward the edge of the intersection. He slammed sideways into a row of plastic, water-filled barriers.
His helmeted head caught the edge of one with a heavy thud, and the world didn't just go dark it vanished.
"Kshhh—...ello? on the wa—"
Sound returned first, distorted and stretched thin through static.
"…are you already on the way? please respond… how much longer…?"
A sharp metallic taste filled his mouth, and he realized it was blood.
"…gh…"
Hachiman's eyes snapped open. The sky above him wavered, splitting slightly before struggling back into focus. For a moment, he couldn't tell how long he had been lying there. Seconds… maybe longer.
"…respond… please… if you can hear this… we have injured… we can't move them…"
The radio.
Right.
He shifted slightly and immediately regretted it. Pain spread along his side and hip where the impact had taken most of the force, followed by the burning sting of torn skin along his arm.
"…ah… fantastic…"
The voice on the radio grew louder as the static fluctuated.
"…please… are you close? …we don't know how much longer we can hold on…"
Hachiman gritted his teeth and started to move. He didn't stand his head was spinning too fast for that. Instead, he dragged himself across the gritty asphalt, his fingers clawing at the road as he moved toward the downed motorcycle where the radio was still clipped.
He finally reached the bike and fumbled clumsily for the talk button. His other hand moved weakly toward his helmet, fingers struggling with the latch before finally pulling it free.
"…Yeah… yeah… I hear you…" he rasped. "…I'm on the way… I'll be there shortly… so don't worry…"
The last few words slowed as he tried to pull himself upright using the motorcycle's frame, but his strength wasn't helping him much at the moment.
As he raised his eyes, his breath hitched. He stared into the distance, his pupils dilating in complete disbelief.
"Why… how… but…"
The words failed to form properly. His thoughts began to fragment again, the gray haze of the concussion creeping back in.
"A…ayanami…"
Before he could lose consciousness, a sight sent a cold shiver straight down his spine. Emerging from the smoke, standing exactly where the energy beams had originated, was a giant.
It was draped in heavy, purple armor accented with glowing neon green and sharp streaks of orange. It wasn't just a machine; its helmet had a prominent, singular horn and a frilled, demon-like design that looked predatory.
Eva Unit-01.
"H…hey Did something happen? Are you still there? Please respond!"
The radio continued calling out, but the words were already fading from Hachiman's awareness. His grip loosened against the side of the motorcycle as the remaining strength left his body and everything went black.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Authors Note:
Hey everyone, Chapter 4 is finally done. We hope you enjoyed this one. This chapter turned out a little different from how we initially imagined. Because of some changes we had to make along the way, we couldn't include the full resolution of this arc here, even though we originally mentioned that this chapter would contain the final confrontation. As a result, we had to split the chapter again, so we're really sorry about that.
We'll do our best to finish the next chapter as soon as possible so we can properly conclude this part and move into the next arc. We hope you'll look forward to what's coming next.
That's all for now. Thank you very much for reading and for sticking with the story so far. We truly appreciate the time and support you've given this project.
As always, feel free to share your thoughts below. We really enjoy hearing from you all.
Stay tuned for more.
—Raijinmaru_K2 & CacciaFulmini