Chapter 7: Car Repair Expert Shinji
At the NERV Central Operations Command.
Countless screens flickered with cold data streams, the low, tense electronic hum forming a backdrop, the air seemingly frozen solid.
On the high command platform, three officers in high-ranking UN military uniforms sat rigidly upright. One gray-haired general asked, "What's the status of the target?"
A calm female operator's voice responded, "Due to radio interference, we cannot confirm at this time."
One of the three UN military officials on the platform leaned back in his chair and said smugly, "With such a violent explosion, it must have been destroyed."
"Restoring visual feed now." The static on the operations hall screens vanished, replaced by a holographic map.
A subordinate reported frantically, "There's an energy reaction at the epicenter of the explosion!"
Another UN military official stood up in shock, "What?!"
Simultaneously, the large screen restored the live footage. The Third Angel, Sachiel, appeared at the center, its eerie green form visible, the gill-like structures on its sides opening and closing, and a new face growing where its destroyed one had been.
At the sight, the people on-site couldn't help but gasp. The other two UN military officials slumped into their chairs, exclaiming, "Our strongest weapon... How could this be...?"
In stark contrast to the oppressive despair at NERV Headquarters, the atmosphere on the relatively "safe" highway far from the explosion center, though chaotic, carried a peculiar... vitality.
Misato was in a near-"combat engineer" mode, fiercely salvaging her battered dark blue Renault.
The car body was severely deformed, with multiple sections of the outer shell twisted and cracked, all the windows shattered—like a boxer beaten black and blue.
"Shinji-kun, help me hold this piece of metal down!"
Misato, with a wide strip of duct tape clenched in her teeth from who-knows-where, held a nearly detached rear fender fragment and called out to Shinji.
Shinji, his face still smudged with dust, immediately stepped forward and pressed the twisted piece of metal back into its approximate position with all his strength.
Misato deftly tore off a long strip of tape, wrapping it around and around with a "rip, rip" sound, layer upon layer, as if bandaging a wounded soldier, trying to barely "stitch" the car's disintegrating shell back together.
The sunlight reflected off the yellow tape, glaring brightly, appearing both comical and tenacious.
But that wasn't all.
Like an experienced scavenger, Misato sharply scanned the wreckage of other vehicles similarly overturned or abandoned by the shockwave.
She swiftly pried open the hoods of several cars, skillfully removed the relatively intact batteries inside, and dragged them back to her Renault one by one.
Soon, the back seat was piled with four or five batteries of varying sizes, resembling a stack of explosive charges ready to detonate.
"Haha, with these, the car will be able to move again...!" Misato wiped the sweat from her forehead, leaving another smudge of grime on her face.
Watching Misato, who was now prying out batteries again like a diligent groundhog, Shinji didn't say much. He always felt that Misato seemed rather cheerful doing such things.
Perhaps feeling it wasn't right to just stand there idly watching, Shinji silently climbed into the back seat.
He picked up the red and black wires, expertly identifying the positive and negative poles. His nimble fingers wrapped the electrodes of different batteries with insulating tape, connecting them steadily and precisely, displaying a proficiency that seemed beyond his years.
Carefully straightening the wires to avoid short circuits, he finally left the main positive and negative wire ends exposed, ready to connect them to the vehicle's starting circuit.
Misato watched from the side, a flicker of surprise in her eyes behind her sunglasses.
She had assumed that such complex parallel wiring work would require her detailed guidance, even if a 14-year-old boy could assist.
She never expected Shinji to handle it so cleanly and efficiently, as if he had done it countless times before.
Little did she know, in the real world, Shinji had been taking apart various radios, clocks, toys, bicycles, and later electric scooters with his father since childhood. Though they ruined many things in the process, it honed his practical skills. Combined with his university major in computer network security, he inevitably dealt with numerous circuits (often called by friends to fix computers—"Can't fix it? But you're a computer major, aren't you?")...
"Hey, I wouldn't have guessed," Misato couldn't help but speak up, her tone filled with genuine admiration, "You know how to do this? Your wiring technique is quite professional."
Shinji was focused on securing the last wire. At her words, his movements paused slightly. Without looking up, his voice remained calm but carried a hint of detachment and faint weariness: "Yeah, a little. If you can do many things yourself... there's no need to trouble others."
This sentence pricked Misato like a tiny needle.
She looked at the boy's lowered, dust-covered profile, at the uncharacteristic stillness he displayed while focused on wiring, and instantly recalled his past experiences of moving between foster homes and being forced to become independent.
A mix of understanding and inexplicable heartache quietly sprouted within her.
She remained silent for a few seconds, refraining from further questions, and simply responded with a soft "Hmm."
Taking the main positive and negative wires Shinji handed over, she took a deep breath, bent down, and carefully connected the wire ends to the dust-covered starter motor terminals in the Renault's engine compartment.
"Done!" Misato straightened up, clapped her hands, and forced a relaxed smile toward Shinji, though it looked somewhat comical on her grimy face, "Mission accomplished! Get in, Shinji-kun! Trust my skills, this... well, shouldn't be too problematic!"
Her tone was filled with uncertain optimism.
The two silently walked toward the car doors. Misato was about to head toward the driver's seat.
However, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Shinji walking straight toward... the main driver's side door?
No, wait!
Misato's eyes widened in surprise—she saw Shinji very naturally reach out and pull open the driver's door!
"Huh?" Misato stopped in her tracks, staring at Shinji who already had his hands on the steering wheel, her face full of astonishment. "Shinji? You... you're going to drive?"
"..."
Shinji's door-pulling movement froze abruptly! His hand gripping the steering wheel halted mid-air.
He looked up blankly, glanced at Misato beside him, then looked down at the steering wheel, and scanned the interior layout of the car...
His mind seemed to short-circuit for a moment before being flooded by an overwhelming wave of embarrassment!
Damn it! Force of habit! In his previous world, the driver's seat was on the left! He had acted completely on instinct, not realizing this was a right-hand drive car!
Shinji's cheeks flushed visibly. He jerked his hands away from the steering wheel as if electrocuted, recoiling sharply as though burned. Stiffly taking a step back, he stammered incoherently:
"Huh? N-no! I... I got it wrong! Sorry! Force of habit... uh, I mean..."
He wished he could vanish into the ground, his eyes darting nervously to avoid Misato's probing gaze.
Misato watched his flustered state, then recalled his earlier skillful wiring connection. Behind her sunglasses, her eyes flickered with understanding and growing curiosity.
She didn't call him out, merely curling her lips into a teasing smile as she deliberately drawled:
"Oh~~~ 'Force of habit,' huh? Seems like Shinji-kun has quite a few secrets, doesn't he?"
Shaking her head with a laugh, she circled around the front of the car to the actual driver's side, pulling open the door: "Alright, as long as you're in the correct seat now. Hurry up and get in. If we dawdle any longer, Headquarters might think we've been flattened by an Angel."
Blushing fiercely, Shinji kept his head down and quickly scrambled into the passenger seat, clutching his travel bag tightly against his chest as if it were his lifeline.
'The cool, aloof persona I'd just built up... completely ruined...'
Misato settled into the driver's seat, took a deep breath with the solemn determination of one marching into certain doom, and turned the key.
"Vrrrr... clak-clak-clak... sputter-sputter... chug-chug-chug!!!"
A series of terrifying engine sounds reminiscent of a dying patient's cough erupted. The car body shook violently, warning lights on the dashboard flashing madly while the exhaust pipe belched thick black smoke.
But ultimately, through relentless "chug-chugging," the engine stubbornly... started!
"Yesss!" Misato pumped her fist excitedly as if she'd won a great battle.
She shifted gears and stomped on the accelerator, the engine roaring in protest.
This dark blue Renault "battle tank" that seemed to be "singing" in every component—metal scraping, tape straining with creaks, loose parts clattering, engine roaring—lumbered forward with the tragic determination of something that might fall apart at any moment but was damned well going to keep moving anyway. Through swirling dust and the fading sunset glow, it wobbled unsteadily yet resolutely onward, trudging haltingly in the direction of Tokyo-3's NERV Headquarters...