The desk was empty. The white furoshiki bundle that had always been there until three days ago. The scent of dashi. The yellow of tamagoyaki. All of it—gone. Shinji set his bag on the floor and stared at that emptiness. (It's gone.) He sat down. Outside the window, the zelkova tree in the courtyard swayed in the morning breeze. When he glanced sideways at the seat next to him, Ayanami Rei was quietly facing forward, opening her textbook. She didn't look at Shinji once. Asuka, diagonally ahead, had fixed her gaze on the window from the moment Shinji arrived and hadn't moved it. Her lustrous red hair wavered in the light. But her face didn't turn. It had been like this for three days straight. "Homeroom is starting, everyone~" Misato came in. Her deep purple short bob bounced. Her amber eyes swept across the classroom like flowing water—but they didn't stop at Shinji. First period. Japanese class began. Misato walked around the classroom as usual, calling on students one after another. "Suzuhara, where's the subject of this sentence?" "[scared]Uh, um... I think it's here..." "Correct!" One row at a time. Front to back. Window side to hallway side. Shinji's turn was coming—or so it should have been. Misato's gaze passed over the seat right before Shinji's and moved straight to the seat behind him. "Matsumoto, please read the next part." He was skipped. Shinji stared at the characters in the textbook on his desk. The lines blurred. He tightened the corner of his mouth slightly and faced forward again. Suzuhara in the next seat glanced over at him. His face looked like he was about to say something. But the kid in front of him whispered, "Not now." Suzuhara fell silent. The entire class was reading the air. —Because the three of them were keeping their distance, no one could get close. That's how it had become. Shinji felt like he'd been put inside a glass case. He could see, but couldn't touch. His voice wouldn't reach. * * * Lunch break. Shinji went up to the roof. A convenience store receipt in his pocket. One tuna mayo onigiri from Lawson. One hundred thirty-eight yen. He sat on a bench in the shadow of the water tank. The wind was cold. The sky was high and blue, and the ridgeline of the Hakone mountains was clearly visible. (If I came here before...) A warm canned coffee. A memo that said "ganbare." Those three characters were in his pocket. He still had them. Couldn't throw them away. Today there was nothing. The bench was cold. Only wind blew. Shinji unwrapped the onigiri. He took a bite. It had no taste. Not that it had no taste—it definitely tasted like tuna. But it didn't seem to spread in his mouth. "...In the end, I haven't changed at all." When he said it out loud, it sounded quieter than he expected. That day, he'd raised his hand. He'd been able to say, "I think a coffee shop would be good." The class had moved. It was his first time feeling that. He'd thought it was real. But the next day—not the fourth episode, the day after. He'd run away again with "either one's fine." Same as yesterday. One step forward, then back to where he started. Another bite of onigiri. He swallowed. (All three of them are really angry.) Asuka wouldn't meet his eyes. Rei stopped bringing her lunch box. Misato didn't call on him in class. Three types of "ignoring," each one hurting differently. Asuka's was hot. Rei's was cold. Misato's was... kind of lonely. —Then. A voice came from below. A girl's voice. Shouting. "[angry]What do you know about Shinji!?" Shinji stood up, onigiri still in hand. * * * He kicked open the roof door and flew down the stairs three at a time. First floor. The door to the courtyard. He burst out. Under the zelkova tree. Asuka was there. Rei was there. Asuka was crying. Her aqua blue eyes were red. She wiped them with her arm, making them even redder. Her voice shook as she swung her arm and shouted. "[crying]I've been working hard alone this whole time! Never losing to anyone, that's how I've always been! But I just wanted to be acknowledged! That's all! Ikari... you..." Rei didn't move an inch. Silver-white hair. Deep crimson eyes. Her slender 158-centimeter frame stood straight beside the zelkova trunk. But her eyes— They were slightly glistening. The moment Asuka's words cut off. Rei opened her mouth quietly. "...Me too." Her voice was small, but audible. "I wanted to be acknowledged. By Ikari." Asuka's face froze. "...Huh?" "I felt the same way you did." Her voice was monotone. But in that voice was something—like something carefully built up was about to crumble. Asuka was at a loss for words. Shinji's feet had stopped before the zelkova. Four or five classmates were frozen in the distance. But no one could speak. Then, footsteps from the hallway. "[surprised]You two, calm down! The teacher will step in! About Shinji, the teacher is the one who—" Misato came running. Her purple short bob bounced. She spread her hands and tried to slip between the two— And stopped dead. "...The teacher is the one who... what am I saying?" She traced her own words. "...What am I saying, 'the teacher is the one'?" Her amber eyes wavered slightly. Misato, who was always energetic and could smile with "It's okay!" no matter what, was unusually at a loss for words. One second of silence. All three of their gazes turned to Shinji at once. It pierced him. His feet trembled. His mouth went dry. He wanted to run—wanted to run, but. (I can't run away.) Shinji took one step forward. Still gripping the tuna mayo onigiri. "...It was my fault." His voice shook. He continued. "I didn't think about how you all felt. I'm sorry." Asuka narrowed her eyes. "[cold]...That's it? You're just apologizing?" "No. I'm going to... say what I really think." "Even if I get yelled at. Even if I'm hated. I won't run away." The words came out. Without the ganbare memo, without anyone pushing his back. From his own mouth. Asuka turned her face away sharply. But her shoulders dropped just slightly. The tension in her angry shoulders eased, just a little. Rei was looking at Shinji. Her gaze didn't waver. She didn't say anything, but it didn't waver. Shinji turned on his heel. "I'm going to talk about it in front of the whole class." He started walking. Misato's eyes went wide. "Oh, before the teacher—" she murmured, then hurried after him. Before he knew it, Asuka and Rei were silently following Shinji's back. * * * The noisy classroom fell silent the moment Shinji opened the door. All his classmates' eyes gathered on him. Thirty-two pairs. Shinji didn't pull out his chair. He stood. "For the cultural festival coffee shop, I don't want it to be German style or Japanese style—I want it to be all mixed together." The air stirred. "Asuka's German cakes and Rei's wagashi and also... Misato-sensei's... um... snacks, let's not do that... anyway, let's make a shop that brings out everyone's good points." A beat. Soft laughter started. The soft laughter burst out. "No snacks!?" "So honest!" voices overlapped, and the classroom filled with laughter. Misato said loudly, "Wait, my snacks are that bad!?" and the laughter spread again. "[angry]What!? That's ridiculous!" Asuka stood up and shouted. But—the corner of her mouth was slightly relaxed. Rei nodded slightly. That was all. But Shinji understood that was Rei's "approval." Misato sniffled. Her face was a crying-laughing mix. "[crying]Shinji... you've grown..." "Even though I'm not in a position to say that... ugh..." Suzuhara shouted, "Alright! Let's go with the all-mixed coffee shop!" and the class applauded. Shinji stood in the middle of the classroom, surrounded by laughter. —For the first time, he was standing at the center of laughter. The classroom was laughing because of him. He wasn't being scolded. He wasn't being exasperated with. This laughter was warm. Something in his chest went soft. * * * The night before the cultural festival. Outside the classroom window was pitch black. Only the hallway lights glowed yellow. Colored paper, poster board, tape. Shinji stayed alone to finish decorating the coffee shop. Everyone else had gone home. Misato had told him, "Go home early too," but he'd said he'd stay a little longer. He wanted to welcome it properly tomorrow. He cut poster board with scissors. Snip, snip. The quiet sound was absorbed by the hallway. He folded German-style stars from colored paper and cut plum blossoms from washi paper, arranging them side by side. Decorations that mixed Asuka and Rei's images. He wasn't sure if it looked good, but Shinji thought this was "everyone's coffee shop." He put his bag on his shoulder and turned off the classroom lights. He walked down the hallway. Down to the first floor. Instead of the front entrance, he took the connecting corridor on the Gehirn Square side—it was a shortcut. Gehirn Square—a gray office building six stories above ground and two below, adjacent to Daisan Middle. The headquarters of the educational foundation that Gendo led. Some windows still had lights on even at night. He proceeded down the connecting corridor. The night air chilled the window glass. His footsteps echoed. —His feet stopped before the ramp leading down to the underground parking lot. Down the ramp. There was light. Two shadows. A low voice came. A voice he'd heard before. Shinji pressed himself against the wall. He held his breath. The bundle of colored paper clutched to his chest. "Rei. Proceed with the plan as scheduled." It was Gendo's voice. A voice without emotion. Behind the sunglasses, a voice that didn't move at all. Silence. And then— "...Yes, Director." It was Rei's voice. One sheet of colored paper fell from Shinji's hands. Shinji didn't move, trying not to make a sound. He couldn't move. (Plan?) Something in his head slowly began to flip over. The lunch box. Every morning, placed in the locked classroom. The word "necessary." The ganbare memo. The transfer order. "I have high expectations"—just one sentence. Was it all part of his father's plan? Was Rei being ordered? Was today in the courtyard. The classroom proposal. That "I wanted to be acknowledged" with tears—was it all just moving as a piece in someone's plan? Shinji slid down the wall, his back against it, and collapsed to the floor. His knees hit the ground. Colored paper scattered. Stars and plum blossoms spread across the dimly lit hallway floor. He didn't know if he wanted to cry or be angry. His head was blank. He couldn't think of anything. Only the sensation of what he'd believed in crumbling with a sound, slowly spreading through his entire body. Among the scattered colored paper was the plum blossom he'd cut. Made with Rei's wagashi image in mind. Shinji stared at it, unable to move—knowing that tomorrow morning, the day of the cultural festival would come.