Miles stood still at the edge of the broken cocoon, the ink still dripping from the shattered shell like the bleeding husk of a lie long told. His body ached. His coat was in tatters. His blade was broken.
And Shinji stood before him.
Alive, changed, and twisted like a story told a thousand times.
"What did you do?" Miles asked, his voice hoarse, cracked like parchment dried in the sun.
Shinji smiled. He looked like himself, mostly. The lines of his face were the same, but his eyes weren't. They were bottomless and wide, like something was looking through them from much, much deeper.
And it was amused.
"Ah…" Shinji said, his arms raised slightly, as if presenting himself on a grand stage. "Is this the part where the villain explains his plan to the brave, beaten hero, and then, against all odds, the hero pulls through, defies logic, and wins the day with the power of hope and friendship?"
He tilted his head, almost mockingly.
