The tragedy is that Asuka was their best pilot. She had it all: high synchronization rates, enthusiasm, a natural talent for fighting. She was a ruthless killing machine in the form of a lithe little girl. It was only when she began questioning herself, when her own mind turned against her, that her performance began its steady decline. Slowly and then suddenly. The tragedy is that humans are humans' true enemy. Your greatest opponent is yourself.

Misato knows this firsthand, but she hasn't won her war just yet. She has no wisdom to impart. Kaji might, might have, but maybe he told the girl to give up.

It's clear from Asuka's voice that she has been crying. It has always been clear to her, and perhaps to every adult watching, how fragile the girl is, how volatile. They knew she would burn bright only to implode, such radiance could never last. That was why they had spares-- no, no one should ever have a spare. She wants Asuka to be alright again, to pick petty fights with her that mean nothing, to nurse the same hunger for Angels' blood as she does. She wants the girl to not need her. But the fact is she does. So Misato leans against the flimsy door and slides to the floor to sit, knees drawn close to her chest. She's so tired.

"You can take as long as you like."