August 13, 2046
Shinji's jaw dropped as he stared at the TV in disbelief. "Oh, my God!" he said. "We did it!"
Asuka threw down her controller and tackled him in a tight hug. "Wahoo!" she shouted. "Most days you piss me off, Third, but some days you are well and truly awesome. Today is one of those days!"
Shinji laughed at her exuberance. "Thanks, Asuka," he said. "I think you're awesome too."
"I am always awesome," she said, preening. "But today, you get to share in my glory! Nice work!"
Shinji's response was cut off when Ryuko opened the door to her room. "What are you two shouting about?" she mumbled. She wandered in, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and wiped the sleep from her eyes.
Asuka stood up and smirked at her. "Skyreach," she said, planting her hands on her hips. "Co-op mode, Nightmare difficulty."
Ryuko scowled at her. "Impossible," she said. "You can't even play on Nightmare difficulty without a sync kit, and you wouldn't let us get one."
Asuka pointed to the TV with a flourish. "Read it and weep, little girl," she said.
Ryuko shuffled over to the TV, peering at the display. Her eyes went wide. "Impossible," she whispered. "That's not-- it's just impossible!" She gave the TV screen a closer look, and her eyes went wide. "Mom, do you realize what you've done?"
"Hah!" Asuka said. "Your father and I have proven we're magnificent, that's what!"
Ryuko shook her head. "No, I mean . . . you didn't just beat the game," she said. "You ranked! You got the third highest score in Japan!"
Asuka blinked. "Whoa," she said. "Really?"
Ryuko nodded. "Once the score is verified it will be posted to the leaderboards, and everyone will know."
Asuka's eyes widened in alarm. "Posted?" she asked. "But it's a private game, not a competition--"
"You're on the network, mom. Everyone's scores are ranked, whether they're competing or not."
Asuka scowled. "Don't we get a say in this?"
Ryuko shrugged. "We had the chance to opt out," she said.
"What?" Asuka asked. "When?"
"When we registered the console," Ryuko said. "Don't you remember? We talked about it, and you decided we'd . . . "
Shinji groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We decided we'd opt in so you could compete with your friends. I remember now." He frowned. "But they'll just post our usernames, right?"
Ryuko just stared at her father. "Your usernames are 'Reddevil' and 'Bakashin', dad. People will work it out."
Asuka laughed nervously. "Whoops," she said. Then she shrugged. "Eh, who cares? People rank all the time, it's no big deal--"
"You don't get it," Ryuko said, shaking her head. "Games with sync are ranked separately from games without. If you look at the leaderboards sync games will have a red dot next to them. Non-synced games don't. You just beat a game that requires sync without using it. People are gonna wanna know how."
Asuka frowned. "It's not actually required, you know. It's just--"
Asuka's reply was cut short by a chirp from her phone. She read the message, then said "oh wow. It's from Sony. 'Thank you for using our Dios platform! We thought you'd like to know we have received several inquiries regarding your recent high score for the game Skyreach. As per our policy we will not share your private data with third parties without your express written consent. However, should you choose to use us as an intermediary we will be glad to provide assistance. Alternatively, you may wish to contact these parties independently at your convenience. Please let us know if we can be of further help.'"
"Holy crap," Ryuko said. "Seriously?"
Asuka nodded. "That's what it says."
"Wow, that was quick," Ryuko said. She sighed. "I'm gonna be the only kid in Japan whose parents are better at vidya than she is."
"Only in co-op," Shinji said. "You still destroy us in individual rankings."
"Not the point, dad," Ryuko lamented.
Asuka shook her head. "Irrelevant," she said. She stabbed a finger at Shinji. "We have done the impossible. As a reward, I demand breakfast!"
Shinji laughed at her. "Fine, fine," he said. "What would you like?"
She grinned at him. "Waffles!"
Shinji rolled his eyes. "Of course," he said. "Waffles it is." He wandered off to the kitchen, and began his cooking.
Asuka relaxed on the couch. She smiled at Ryuko. "I'm just gonna sit here being awesome," she said. "But I'm merciful. You may bask in my radiance if you wish."
Ryuko laughed at her mother, then made her way to the kitchen.
Shinji stood before the stove, a broad smile on his face. He caught her eye as she entered. "And that," he said, indicating Asuka, "is why I bother."
"Heh. It's nice to see her happy for a change." Her brows knit. "I still wanna know how you did it, though."
Shinji shrugged as he poured batter into the waffle iron. "It's not impossible," he said, "just difficult. Your mother and I have a lot of training with synchronization, so we have an advantage other people don't. That's all it is, really; nothing complicated about it."
Ryuko quirked an eyebrow, skeptical. "So piloting made you awesome gamers?"
"I wouldn't put it like that," he said. "But one Angel--" he counted on his fingers, then nodded -- "the seventh, I think, could split itself in two. We had to hit both of its cores simultaneously to defeat it, and we trained for a solid week to learn to sync with one another and coordinate our efforts."
Ryuko rolled her eyes. "That was nearly thirty years ago, dad. What does that have to do with the here and now?"
Shinji shrugged. "Nothing by itself, but that was just the beginning. After Third Impact gaming became a crucial part of our lives; playing games in co-op mode gave us a way to support one another, and we very much needed that at the time." He smiled sadly. "We really didn't like one another much back then. But anyway, when civilization came back we continued out of habit, and it soon became a sort of tradition. That and my playing the cello for her were the main ways we cemented our bond."
"But when?" Ryuko pressed. "I never see you guys playing anything. Heck, I didn't even know you'd ever touched Skyreach until today!"
Shinji narrowed his eyes in a mock glare. "That's because we're considerate," he said. "We play when you're asleep or at school, because we don't want to get in your way."
Ryuko flushed. "Oh," she said. "Well, um . . . thanks, I guess."
"You're welcome," Shinji said. He opened the waffle iron and scooped out the waffle inside, placing it on a plate before lathering it with butter and syrup. He handed the plate to Ryuko and said, "Here, take this to your mother. Yours is up next."
She accepted the plate, nodding eagerly. "Okay!" she said.

June 4, 2035
Shinji entered the room, then closed the door behind him. He turned, looking at the figure seated at the only table in the room. He was just as he remembered him: heavy coat, despite Japan's eternal summer; white gloves; tinted glasses. His hands stretched before him on the table, palms down. Shinji met his gaze. "Hello, father," he said.
Gendo Ikari nodded, then waited while the younger man took his seat. After a moment he said, "It's been a while."
Shinji nodded. "Yes."
"Are you well?" his father asked.
Shinji looked away, shrugging slightly. "Most days," he said. "Better than Asuka, at least."
Gendo cocked his head. "The Second Child?"
Shinji didn't reply.
Gendo stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I never met her," he mused.
Shinji's jaw clenched. "No," he said.
Gendo returned his hand to the table. "I suppose I should have," he said.
Shinji shrugged again. "It doesn't matter," he said. He looked at his father. "We have a daughter, she and I. She'll be three years old in a few weeks."
"I see," Gendo said. His voice betrayed no emotion.
"She's . . . " Shinji paused, then looked at his father and said, "I never knew they could be so frightening. Children, I mean."
Gendo's eyes widened a fraction. He held his son's gaze for several moments, then looked away. "Yes," he said, nodding.
Shinji shifted nervously in his seat. Gendo opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it. His hand twitched nervously. "Your mother," he said. "Did you see her?"
Shinji closed his eyes. Of course, he thought. "Yes."
Gendo stared at him, then cleared his throat. "What did she say?"
"She said that as long as I was alive, I would have a chance to find happiness. She said that everything would be alright."
Gendo frowned. "Do you know why she left?"
Shinji shrugged. "She said the Eva would last forever, and that it would be eternal proof that mankind existed." He laughed lightly. "Well, that's what she said, anyway. But I was just a kid back then, so maybe there was more to it than that." He frowned, thinking. "Professor Fuyutsuki said she might have wanted to continue Adam's work on another world. But Asuka's mother thinks that's silly, and that all my mother wanted was to make sure the Eva could never hurt me again." He shrugged, then met his father's gaze. "I'm sorry, I don't know the truth of it beyond that."
Gendo leaned back in his chair. "All for nothing," he whispered. He looked at Shinji, a hint of regret in his eyes, then looked away. "That will be all," he said. "You may leave now."
Shinji nodded, then stood. As he turned to leave, his hand on the door, he looked back at his father. "After the trial," he said, "You'll likely be sent to prison."
Gendo nodded. "Yes."
"I can visit you, if you like." His voice was quiet, but the resolve in it was unmistakable.
"That won't be necessary," Gendo said.
Shinji looked back at the door, clenching the doorknob tightly. "And if I came anyway?" he asked.
Gendo stared at his son's back, his lips parted in surprise. He regained his composure and leaned forward, leaning on his elbows as he crossed his hands before his face. "Fine," he said. "Do as you like."
Shinji nodded slightly, then opened the door and left the room.