Asuka stays huddled on the floor as Misato moves to the cupboard. She feels vulnerable and alone and exposed here, more than she did a moment ago when she made the choice to open the door. Now it feels like a mistake, especially with Misato able to see her and with the way Misato acts - all matter-of-fact and military. There's nothing maternal in her, nothing like a sister or even a friend (why isn't Hikari here) and it hurts. It hurts more than she wants it to, because she's pretended for so long that Misato didn't matter, that her opinion was stupid, that she didn't crave or desire her approval or want her love (she can't be jealous of Shinji, she can't) and this just seems to prove that she's second-best. The unloved child. The extra. She curls in on herself, back stiff and awkward against the door jamb.
At least she's being given a towel. She accepts it without saying anything, head bowed, a curtain of still-damp hair covering her eyes as she wraps the towel around herself with a shiver. She feels more alone now than she did a moment ago. Isolated. Because it isn't as if Misato has to deal with a dead mother or the soul of a parent trapped inside a machine. She hasn't had her whole world torn down around her. What does she know? Why is she doing this? Why tell her, why, why, why?
"How long?"
How long has she known? How long has her mother been there? How long have they kept this from her? Has her whole life been one twisted lie? Because that's what it's starting to feel like.
She's going to kill them.
Every last one of them. Every old man, every selfish bastard who's promised her that if she tries a little harder, if she just does what she's told, she'll be praised and loved. She's going to tear them and their world apart until they feel the hurt she does. Until they understand the pain that pulses and throbs at her very core. Until it's them who are forgotten and trod underfoot and then she'll kill them.
Mama. Why didn't you tell me?
"What about..." Her throat is dry and it comes out in a croak, "What about Unit 00? Or 01?"
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At least she's being given a towel. She accepts it without saying anything, head bowed, a curtain of still-damp hair covering her eyes as she wraps the towel around herself with a shiver. She feels more alone now than she did a moment ago. Isolated. Because it isn't as if Misato has to deal with a dead mother or the soul of a parent trapped inside a machine. She hasn't had her whole world torn down around her. What does she know? Why is she doing this? Why tell her, why, why, why?
"How long?"
How long has she known? How long has her mother been there? How long have they kept this from her? Has her whole life been one twisted lie? Because that's what it's starting to feel like.
She's going to kill them.
Every last one of them. Every old man, every selfish bastard who's promised her that if she tries a little harder, if she just does what she's told, she'll be praised and loved. She's going to tear them and their world apart until they feel the hurt she does. Until they understand the pain that pulses and throbs at her very core. Until it's them who are forgotten and trod underfoot and then she'll kill them.
Mama. Why didn't you tell me?
"What about..." Her throat is dry and it comes out in a croak, "What about Unit 00? Or 01?"