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It was around five in the afternoon, and yet the heat was unbearable. He watched the sun sink behind the waves, painting the whole beach in vibrant oranges and reds. There was sand all over his body — embedded in his clothes, in his hair, between his toes. He licked his lips, tasting salt mixed with iron. Disgusting.
Before him, waves came and went. A sea of blood, he thought. And maybe it truly was.
He took a deep breath. The hot air filled his lungs — and it hurt. The LCL that had filled him minutes ago had yet to fully be expelled. He bent over the scorching sand, coughing violently. The taste of blood grew stronger. He felt like vomiting.
And he did.
He poured it all out: the LCL, the blood, the bile, the anger, the sadness.
But he couldn’t expel the loneliness. That didn’t reside in his stomach — it lived deeper, embedded in his guts, occupying space in his heart, coursing through his veins. It was part of him. Like his shadow. It would be his only companion until the end of his time on Earth.
He ought to be happy, he thought. Now he was alone. The walls around his heart would never be torn down again. There were no more EVAs, no Angels, no father.
He — his father — must be somewhere in that infinite sea before him, lost. A man who had turned the world upside down for her — his mother — and ended up rejected by his own soul… it was truly sad. Shinji felt pity for him. It was all he could offer.
As if knowing he was remembered, a small wave reached Shinji’s bare feet, carrying with it some of the sand that dirtied him and leaving behind sea foam, like a reminder. The water was as cold as the man who inhabited his thoughts.
Goodbye, father, he thought. Perhaps, in the next life, you might love me.
He rose to his feet. Gave his clothes two taps, but the sand remained stuck. He wasn’t willing to enter the water to clean himself. He decided to ignore the irritating sensation under his skin — after all, no living soul remained in this new world. Being clean or dirty no longer mattered.
He decided to walk. To where? Even he didn’t know.
The world had ended a third time. He had restarted the universe with a single wish: to end that ridiculous war between humans and angels. He was tired.
And, again, God granted his request.
Humanity ended. Now everyone lived in a collective consciousness. Ego’s walls were shattered. All happy ever after.
At least, that was what Shinji wanted to believe.
He walked along the beach for hours, yet it felt as if he hadn’t moved. Along the way, he saw destroyed houses, wreckage of weapons, organic remains of EVAs scattered for kilometers ahead. He shoved his hands into his pockets, observing what remained of the city he once knew. A place once beautiful and relatively peaceful — now resembled a deep cut in Earth, an open wound exposed to the universe.
And Shinji was its only witness.
The sky, once red‑orange, began to darken. Stars appeared overhead, shining like tiny diamonds in the vast night. They looked, too, like sequins stitched into a delicate gown. Shinji felt as though they watched him — as if God, in His infinite grace, followed his steps. Under the night’s veil, he saw the moon, now three times larger than before, contrasting with the delicate jewels scattered across the dark sky.
He let out a disgruntled little snort through his nose. Stuck his hands in his pockets again, feeling the clods of sand, and approached the sea, stopping just a few meters from the water. The scent had changed. Now it was sweet — like roses and honey. It felt as if the sea called to him, seducing him. A fierce desire to throw himself into that vastness gripped his mind. To become part of the collective consciousness. To live naked to another’s eyes. To no longer be alone. It was tempting.
The thought nearly convinced him—but his fingers touched something cold at the bottom of his pocket. He backed away from the water’s edge as though waking from a trance, and pulled the object out.
Oh… — he exclaimed, surprised. It was the cross‐shaped necklace Misato had given him before she died.
He gripped the pendant tightly. It was as if she whispered in his mind: Keep going.
His throat closed, and his eyes stung. How would she be now? Did she hate him? Did she remember him?
Of everyone he’d known during his short life on Earth, Misato had been one of the few to show him empathy — in her own way. She wasn’t his mother, yet treated him with kindness. Not his friend, yet gave him shelter. Above all, she was his superior — but it was in her home that Shinji first experienced the warmth of a real home.
— It’s a beautiful necklace. — A male voice echoed across the beach, startling Shinji. — Did the Major give it to you?
Incredulous, Shinji turned toward the voice. He felt all blood drain from his veins.
— What are you doing here, Kaworu? — he said, and for the first time since he last piloted his mecha, he was truly afraid.
The man stood exactly where they had met for the first time — seated among the ruins of an angel statue. He sat on its edge, where the statue’s arms rose toward the sky, as if offering the boy back to his celestial cradle, to his angelic brothers. Like a sacrifice.
Smiling, the young man swung his legs. His gaze carried the same weight of wisdom and tenderness he had in life. Nothing seemed changed — except that now he was older, as was Shinji himself. He was no longer the boy Shinji had spoken with during the Instrumentality process.
Adolescent delicacy had matured into firmer features. Youth’s vitality was gone, replaced in Kaworu by near-absurd beauty.
— I refused Instrumentality. — He replied as if it were obvious, as effortless and gentle as stating the sky is blue.
Shinji stood silent, incredulous. There were no words to better describe what he felt.
— Idiot! — he shouted in anger, his voice echoing for miles. — You’re some kind of masochist, huh?! You could live any reality! You should live without depending on me!
The man smiled a little more, swinging his legs with boredom, turning his face to study the starry sky: — That’s what you’ve never understood, Shinji: I don’t depend on you, I love you. — The dark-haired man swallowed. — And choosing to live in a world with or without you is my choice, not yours.
Shinji gritted his teeth. His aim in all this was to free people, to make them happy—and he knew within himself that everyone he crossed paths with was unhappy mainly because of him.
When he rewrote the code of the universe, he inscribed in the Book of Life that all those he interacted with — even minimally — should forget him. It was the least Shinji could do to fix the past’s mistakes.
But seeing Kaworu here…
What went wrong?
— You can’t decide what’s best for all humanity, dear Shinji. People can choose how they want to live—or not to live.
Kaworu’s voice wasn’t harsh but calm and firm, like an adult gently reprimanding a spoiled child with wisdom.
Shinji laughed, his hands pressing against his head, feeling the chill of Misato’s necklace against his skin. — So… all of it was in vain?
Kaworu chuckled, the serene sound pulling at Shinji’s heartstrings, calming him. He jumped from the statue and landed gracefully in the water, like a heron. He walked toward Shinji with his hands in his pockets: — No. Right now we’re witnessing the birth of a new world. You wished for the loops to end—and so they did, along with the Angels and the war, but… — He removed Shinji’s hand from his head and took it. — You also wished that every being might live their own happiness. That way, each living soul on this planet can choose between living in the limbo of abstract happiness that Instrumentality created, or living on Earth and forging a new path.— He squeezed Shinji’s hand gently. — This means choice. Choosing whether to remember the past or not. It means you’re included, too, understand?
Shinji stared at his dirt-covered feet and let go of Kaworu’s hand. He sat on the sand, now cold, and breathed in the night’s cool breeze. — Between the lines, you mean I can’t tamper with people’s free will, right?
— Exactly. — murmured Kaworu.
— I understand. — Shinji replied.
— If the world will be remade from scratch and people return, then where are we? — Shinji asked, gazing at the now entirely dark expanse, some neon-green crosses glowing in the distance.
The young man sat beside him, keeping a small distance. Shinji raised an eyebrow skeptically: — Let’s say we’re on the login screen. Right now the souls of all Lilin are reliving their memories and deciding whether to stay or go. It’s a lengthy process, but once each soul decides, the world will be remade. — He turned to Shinji, eyes closed in a smile: — And it’ll be up to me to find you again.
— We don’t need to repeat this cycle, Kaworu. I made you suffer so much, countless times. I’d rather you lived in peace.— The shorter boy responded without meeting the other’s eyes.
The man beside him leaned forward slightly: — Have you ever wondered about the story of Adam and Lilith?
Shinji frowned, confused.
What he knew was that Adam had landed with his ship first on Earth and Lilith had crashed by accident, causing the First Impact and leaving Adam unconscious by his own Lance of Longinus, while Lilith usurped Earth and populated it with her offspring.
As if reading his mind, Kaworu smiled and stared into the inky expanse: — Everything they told you about them is lie.
Shinji lowered his head, bewildered.
— Adam, for us, was a fool.— he continued, his tone nostalgic as if traveling back in time. — He had fallen hopelessly in love with Lilith, a Seed of Life like him but destined to spread knowledge throughout the universe, while Adam’s purpose was similar, but meant to spread life. Concepts that should never merge. It was forbidden.— He sighed. — When Lilith left our home planet on her mission toward Earth, Adam fell into despair.
Shinji listened silently, as though each word carried a weight he already knew: — After a Seed of Life spreads her offspring on a planet, she becomes part of it. For us, that's an honor, but for Adam it was like a dagger through his heart. He’d never see his beloved again—and it broke him.
— Unlike you Lilin, who are physically fragile but have complex minds and souls, we Angels are perfect in form and energy, but isolated and devoid of empathy. Seeing Adam in that state was… strange. No one could comprehend what he was feeling, we didn’t even know it was possible, you know? A Seed daring to feel, that was ridiculous. — He laughed as if it were a joke. — Then, one day after Lilith’s ship departed, he followed. We didn’t know where he went, we actually didn’t want to believe it. We discovered it millennia later when Lilith’s lance returned to us. Lances have a recording device, when we accessed it, we couldn’t believe what he had done.— The man exhaled deeply. — Adam pursued Lilith’s ship. When he arrived, she was preparing the ground to receive the Fruit of Knowledge. He tried to convince her to deviate from her purpose, but Lilith, as expected, was incapable of reciprocating what he felt. Since two Seeds cannot coexist, Adam sacrificed himself for her, activating his own lance and sleeping in Earth’s depths. According to our records it was so destructive that you Lilin came to know it as the ‘First Impact.’
Shinji listened closely, soaking in the information. Kaworu was serious, just like the day he introduced him to the half-finished world devastated by the Almost-Third Impact that he himself caused: — Adam chose to die rather than live in a world where his beloved no longer existed. Even for us it was… sorrowful. — He offered a sad smile. — The Second Impact was nothing more than Adam awakening and realizing Lilith was gone forever. He went mad, to the point we had to intervene personally.— His eyes shifted from the tide to meet Shinji’s, gleaming in contrast to the moonlight. Shinji looked away, the necklace burning against his chest like a cruel reminder. — In our search for Adam we discovered Lilith had never truly fused with Earth as she should have. Maybe, seeing Adam’s sacrifice, she stayed and nourished the planet another way. Maybe she felt the same for Adam, but for her, duty outweighed sentiment. Perhaps she wanted to see him again. She knew he lay asleep somewhere on Earth.— He paused, placing his hand over Shinji’s. Warm meeting cold: — Sadly, we couldn’t end their story. But I believe even they will one day deserve a dignified new beginning, don’t you?
— You… you think after all the pain Lilith caused Adam, he would forgive her?
Kaworu smiled with passion, his eyes descending to Shinji’s distressed lips, leaning slightly closer: — There’s nothing to forgive, dear Shinji. Lilith never asked anything of him. All he did was for love. It’s up to Lilith whether she’s willing to accept.
Kaworu’s eyes rose to meet Shinji’s, his hands cupping that passionate face: — You know, when I first came to Earth I still thought Adam was a great idiot. But after I met you… I understood why he did it. I felt the same when I met you, when I thought I’d lose you. And you know what? I regret nothing, Shinji. I don’t regret the sacrifices I made for you. If it meant seeing your smile one more time, I’d do it all over again.
Shinji laughed, incredulous, tears beginning to burn in his eyes: — You’re crazy.
— I am. And I would go to the ends of Hell if that meant seeing you again.
Shinji didn't have time to respond, quick as a fox, Kaworu softened Shinji’s fall with one hand, keeping his head from hitting the sand. Their faces were so close Shinji could barely breathe. Then came the kiss — urgent, devouring.
They had kissed before, yes. But last time it had been light, a brushing of lips with shy laughter. Now it was another thing entirely.
Kaworu took him completely. Their bodies pressed together, tongues in contest, breaths ragged. Shinji’s heart thundered as if about to explode. It wasn’t just love. It was desire, surrender… submission.
Their heated bodies contrasted with the cold beach sand. Kaworu’s fingers traced the skin of Shinji as though sketching forgotten constellations, as if he wanted to memorize every curve, every tiny reaction of the shorter boy.
— Are you okay?— Kaworu murmured softly at the curve of his neck, in a tone as if sharing a small secret.
Shinji nodded with a husky sigh, nearly desperate.
Kaworu smiled, and for a second the world seemed to stop. He kissed him again, this time slower, deeper, savoring the taste of Shinji. He reached for Shinji’s neck, pressing him close, as though afraid that if he let go reality would separate them.
Chest to chest, they found an old rhythm, bodies remembering the way. With every movement, a stifled moan. With every touch, a sliver of sanity snapped.
Their breaths mingled with the sound of the sea, which crashed afar like a divine whisper. The stars seemed to shine more brightly—it was as if the universe itself held its breath to watch their clumsy dance.
As if sensing his partner’s anguish, Kaworu lowered his lips along Shinji’s neck, pausing only to taste his salty skin—leaving marks all over. Each bite was a reminder: I am here, I am real, I chose you.
I will not leave you.
— I want you. — Shinji said, voice hoarse and fragmented. — Whole.
Kaworu rested his forehead against his, panting. — Then have me, Shinji. Completely. As far as the world allows.
And in that moment, time ceased to exist.
Each piece of clothing was removed in haste. Each bit of revealed skin felt sacred, as sacred as that beach. It was like being born anew for the first time, each arch of Shinji’s back, each breathless gasp, each moan. It was like drinking life’s nectar and becoming addicted. And in a way he was — he always had been addicted to Shinji and always would be.
The smaller boy trembled atop the other’s body, practically begging to become one. His body quivered, flowing between pleasure and fear — but for the first time the fear wasn’t of the other, but of himself. Of feeling so much. Kaworu, on the other hand, guided him with patience and care. His delicate, slender fingers entering points that made Shinji want to cry out in pleasure on the spot.
When they finally joined there were no screams, just ragged, intimate, profound sighs. They were united not only in flesh, but in soul as well. At last, they were one.
Each thrust was a summons, each moan a response. A promise. They lay there, vulnerable and exposed, skin glued by sand, naked before each other and all they had lost.
The walls Shinji had worked so hard to build were finally destroyed. They might return in the future, but not for him. Never.
As he neared climax, Kaworu covered him with a strong embrace. Captured his lips tenderly and murmured so only he could hear:
— If I must be reborn a thousand times, may it always be like this—with you.
Shinji wept — for the first time in years — tears of happiness, returning the embrace. His fingers tangled even deeper in his partner’s hair, his teeth grazing Kaworu’s shoulder. They needed no words. Kaworu knew he loved him with the same intensity.
They remained entwined, sand stuck to their skin, the sky, once pitch black, now glimmered rose‑tinted like pearl. Shinji closed his eyes, their fingers interlaced, feeling his chest finally light. For the first time in a long while… he didn’t want to run away.