Hello, everyone, welcome to Kenny's newest fanfic that isn't so new at all… I'm glad that I finally got around to start translating it. Thanks everybody for taking your time to read this, and greetings to everyone who knows me from evageeks, animexx or elsewhere.

English is not my mother tongue, so if you speak German, I'd really recommend that you read the original version. Nonetheless, I'm gonna try my best – if you spot any language mistakes, don't hesitate to tell me.

My basic plan with this is to take the good old time loop idea... and play it for horror, endless eight style. For once, Shinji is not the culprit - but he's the one who can fix it, leaving us with more or less the same problem.

Or, more conceptually: Most of us know timeloop or "alternate outcome/branching timeline" fics, most are fun, catharsis-inducing and give you a chance to do some real interpretation work on the canon events. Also, you sort of have to do this if you want to write in the setting most of the show takes place (which will be your natural instinct after, well, watching the show and seeing that setting get fleshed out) in since it is more or less completely obliterated by the end. But a downside is that with many (certainly not all, and even then, I don't mean to be bitchy or elitist, again, I mostly enjoy time loops/alternates) of those fics, it either soon becomes apparent that the writer didn't exactly get the ending or has a very cynical interpretation of it and the arguably positive messages it's trying to convey, and/or b), which annoys be significantly more since the apocalypse interpretation can at least be seen as a necessary justification for the time travel: It all turns into one giant Shinji hate fest, one way or another, if they don't flat out replace him with a self-insert, a gary stu, or a vaguely similar-looking Gary Stu that is also a self-insert.

But if you're just complaining, you're part of the problem, right? So what I thought I'd do was(TM), I'll try to write my own timeloop fic/ the sort I'd like to read, try to make it original and see if other people would like to read that sort of fic, too!

That, and to create a long love letter to the entirity of this fascinating frachise that has changed so many lives, including mine.

Warning: This will partially follow the original story, but also Rebuild and later, the ideas of my own sick brain as well. Expect characters from the video games, a few OCs (only in minor roles, though, don't worry), Rebuild spoilers, and all the sort of nasty stuff the original series also has. As for the pairings, well, Shinji's entire harem shows up (I'm not letting a drama source as good as a love dodecahedron slip through my hands), but if you wanna know whom he'll ultimately end up with, you'll have to read this. No all-too disturbing crack pairings or OC pairings, though, so rest assured.

Oh, and another thing: If you think that Shinji, in either classic series or the Rebuild movies, is a) "a whiny gay pussy who should man up" or b) "A selfish, ingrateful toddler who only thinks of his own gratification, no better than his 2D-Disney-villain-father" or c) "A closet misantrope who secretly craves the obliteration of all life on earth from the dephts of his heart" (Yes, this exists), this fic probably isn't for you. Don't worry, there are plenty of other fics out there! How about "Shinji and Warhammer 40k" or something like that?

But anyway, I've babbled enough. You guys came for the story, didn't you? So okay, here it is:

Oh I am growing tired

Of allowing you to steal

Everything I have

You're making me feel

Like I was born to service you

But I am growing by the hour

You left us far behind

So we all discard our souls

And blaze through your skies

So unafraid to die

'Cause I was born to destroy you

And I am growing by the hour

And getting strong in every way

You led me on

- Muse, 'Hate this and I'll love you'

Prologue: 00: [Da Capo]

The music that could occasionally be heard from that spacious manor no longer surprised anyone;

Every day, if not always at the same time, someone in there would play a western Cello for about half an hour. The manor was large enough, being the property of a man who earned his living as a private teacher for the children of rich parents; The neighbors wouldn't have heard it unless they happened to be in the right corner of their Garden at the right time, and even then, only if they were listening closely enough.

The ones who were most likely to hear it were probably the few old grannies who would sometimes slowly cross the piece of sidewalk next to the during the moment in question, manor aided by their walking frames, although they would rarely think more of it than "Oh, it's the Cello again", assuming they had spent enough time in this small village that appeared to have been randomly thrown between the edgy mountains of japan to have heard the instrument before; The melodies of the string instrument could have been heard for many years, and if someone had ever bothered to take their time to listen in regular intervals, they would have noticed that the unseen musician had steadily improved.

Of course, nobody actually had the time for such a thing as the sound of classical music that seemed to be randomly coming from a teacher's house. "Perhaps some of these rich kids is getting Cello lessons" a few might think, supposing they had both knowledge of the manor's owner and the capacity of identifying the instrument as such, with the keywords being "a few"; Even in this isolated, insignificant town that had been barely grazed by the night apocalyptic consequences of the second impact, these hectic, uncertain times had left everyone busy with their own worries, barring them of any time to listen to mediocre cello music.

Now and then, someone would ask, a young child, a curious stranger.

"I…I don't know."

"That's where that private teacher lives, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I think it is."

"Oh, yes… One of my husband's friends has a friend who knows him. That's got to be that kid…"

"What kid? I didn't know he had any children."

"It's not his. I think he's the son of some filthy rich government official who left the kid in his care."

"Official? I thought he was a scientist…"

"Wasn't he in the military?"

"Why isn't that guy looking after his son himself, anyway? That's quite some neglectful father…"

"But… that boy is bound to have a mother. Why isn't she taking care of him?"

"Because she can't. As far as I know, she's been dead for quite a while now."

"She died? How come?"

"I don't really know, but…"

"What?"

"There is… something like a crazy rumor. As the story goes, this so-called father used his own wife as a guinea pig."

"What? He murdered his wife and then abandoned his own child, on top of that? What a goddamn bastard!"

Sure enough, the populace hardly saw anything of that official-slash-scientist-slash-bastard's son, save for the cello music. His guardian, being a private teacher, tutored him at home, which was probably what he was paid for in the first place.

Even if the residents had spotted him when he went to buy groceries or something like that, there was nothing to him that would make the eyes of the busy, hurried crowd cling to him or betray him as the mysterious cellist from the neighborhood.

He was a nondescript boy who walked around in simple, loose-fitting trousers and even simpler T-shirts, sometimes white, sometimes blue, nothing that stood out in particular. He wasn't exactly an especially impressive individual, not too tall, not too short, not fat, but not muscular either, with plain vanilla dark brown hair worn in a plain vanilla haircut.

The only thing about him that might have merited a glance were his eyes.

They presented themselves to the world in a deep, pure blue that was usually found in foreigners alone, the color the oceans had before second impact, when they still contained life of which we knew less than about the depths of outer space; blue like the skies, like that which was separated from all things earthly and material.

Nevertheless, no one ever noticed these eyes of his, for that would have required for the observer to take a closer look at his face, and as stated before, there wasn't much to him that could have served as motivation to do that.

Everyone was busy talking about the ongoing restoration of the oceans, the irresponsible spending of tax money, these strange serial murders in the new capital of Tokyo-3, while no one knew why it was supposed to become the capital at all since they already had Tokyo-2, or why ridiculous sums were spent to build fortifications over there, so no one even took notice of one mostly inconspicuous boy when he went to buy something, showed himself at public events (which he only did because his teacher told him) or just went to get the mail.

Getting the mail… that was exactly what he had been supposed to do on that fateful day. To get the mail and put it on the table so his teacher could read it later. It was his teacher who read the mail – all of it.

No one ever wrote the boy any letters, neither that scientist-father of his nor anyone else. How was anyone supposed to write to him, anyway, there was hardly anyone who even knew that he was here.

No one had ever written him a letter.

Until now.

Until the day when this, along with an infinite number of other things, changed forever… on the day where his life took a 180-degree turn.

The day on which he opened the mailbox and read a word that some part of him had always waited for, even when his mind had long since understood that it was futile.

This was the day where he found, addressed at none other than himself, the single word

"Come"

(1) Hi, welcome to the annotations! Here, I will supply you with multiple trivia over the course of the story. I'm happy if anyone reads this garbage at all, but remember that reviews are gestures of LOVE and always very motivating

(2) "Da Capo" is an instruction found on music sheets which means repeating the song from the beginning. Some times people use it as a compliment/cheer after watching a play in a theater - It's like saying the play is so good that they'd like to see it all over again.

(3) The Evangelion frachise is owned by Khara/Gainax, and I'm not earning a single Euro with this.

(4) The next, or more accurately, the first proper chapter will be called 01: [Cracks in a Wall] Don't worry, stuff will be significantly longer than this from now on.