2010-04-09 - Harder...

Somewhere in the Exelion, there is a giant robot-scale gymnasium - not quite big enough for Gunbuster to run aorund, but easily large-enough scale for trainer mobile suits of all kinds. The equipment is adjustable - sized for games for everything from old RX-7s and Arm Slaves to mobile suits and valkyries. The Top Squadron liked to use techniques like this - believing that a oneness with the machine, an instinctive understanding of how to move it, was essential. One mistake in space, Coach Ohta would always say, will mean your death.

At the moment, Noriko Takaya is actually in a coach's outfit - which turns out to be a white tee shirt with the sleeves rolled up to nothing and a pair of blue jeans, a fashion she presumably learned from Reiko Kashihara. Instead of a hat or glasses, she has her habitual blue headband, tied on tight around her more-red-than-brown hair. She is not in a mech; she has heard stories of Rei's frailty, and so has actually just set up enough space for some basic aerobics and a couple laps, for today. They can do advanced stuff later; for now, she wants to see what Rei's body can even do. She waits for her charge to arrive, looking anxious. She hasn't coached anyone before!

SOME TIME AGO

Rei Ayanami is in the locker room of the Exelion's Giant Robot Gymnasium. She has halfway changed out of her uniform, and only now opens up the container -- the awfully light container, she thinks -- wherein sits her designated training uniform, provided to her once she got off the shuttle. Rei stares at the contents, and quietly frowns. There's a long moment of hesitation before she finishes undressing and then begins to change into her new gear.

NOW

Rei Ayanami still has some bruises marking her pale, thin form, but that's really the worst of it. A deep purple shiner underscores one red eye, the swelling of 'nearly breaking her eye socket' having been treated by Future Medicine -- as has her broken arm, which seems to be in fine working order now. Some dark splotches dot her legs as if she'd been punched in them. This is obvious because Rei is wearing a Top Squadron uniform, which renders her legs visible to all and sundry forever.

Rei's body, under five feet and sickly in stature, shows signs of puberty having caused her to develop a shape other than 'matchstick,' but really, the uniform was made with Jung Freuds and Noriko Takayas in mind, and so all it really accomplishes on Rei is making her look even more scrawny and pathetic. She seems uncomfortable in it, too, but unwilling to say or do anything about it -- welcome to Rei Ayanami, for whom no cross is too large to bear.

Rei walks the distance to Noriko, her boots making clip-clop noises on the floor of the vast gymnasium, echoing around the highest levels of the room distantly. When she reaches the other girl, she makes eye contact -- before bowing respectfully. "Senpai," she states, her voice as quiet and fragile as a leaf falling from a tree.

The Top Squadron uniform, like any self-respecting exercise uniform, shows off entirely too much leg. It's just a thing. Whether a cynical attempt by old men to get young girls to show off their toned thighs or an effort to encourage a healthy body image by giving them a way to show off what they had, it is certainly very good for freedom of movement and exercise, which is why the things are even still made.

Also, because Coach and Noriko are /slightly/ insane.

Noriko gets her first really good look at Rei. Bruises on the legs, she thinks - punched, but Noriko blithely assumes she isn't being beaten by NERV personnel, because if she were then Noriko would probably have to go put someone in the hospital, and Noriko is egotistical enough to assume they would not want her to do that. Thus, she concludes, probably a feedback system. She bows - less than Rei, because she is the boss today. "Rei," she says, warmly - trying to look comfortable enough for the both of them. Sensibilities changed, she thinks. Why is everyone so shy in that outfit? Noriko was always fine with it. Maybe she'll ask Jung...

"Ah, gosh, do I count as senpai?" she wonders. "Uhm, Coach is fine, if you like." Maybe just slightly abusing Rei's alleged willingness to serve to plug her own ego. Just a bit. Besides, it's not like it's not true! "Or even just Noriko." Grin!

Presumably there was an honorific in the Japanese language track, but the hell with that.

"In any case, uhm." She's not as good at this as Coach, she thinks. And sure not as good as Master. Still... "...I'm Noriko Takaya," she says, introducing herself slightly late. "I guess you know this already, but NERV asked me to help you out and get into better physical condition. Now that I see you, I think I know what they meant..." She tips her head, and rather than leave the probably-insulting comment hanging, adds: "From the bruises, I guess...Your unit has a bio-feedback unit, or something like that? Or did you jus ttake a crash lately?"

Rei has a few odd mannerisms about her that can just about go unnoticed because of how inobtrusive they are -- nothing she does is loud or ostentatious. But once they're noticed, they stay noticed. The key example of this is how Rei doesn't blink. Well, that's not true. She does, occasionally. But since walking out of that locker room, she hasn't. She just stares at Noriko's eyes, seemingly unconscious of the alienating effect this tends to have.

"If your preference is 'Coach,' then I will call you such. I apologize," Rei says. Her tone is flat, bordering on flatlining. She clearly doesn't invest much effort into the whole 'relating to people' thing -- her apology doesn't sound /fake/, but it doesn't really sound super genuine either. More... routine.

Rei's stick-like arms, sheathed by her jacket's sleeves, hang limply at her sides. She doesn't even flinch at the comment about her level of fitness. "NERV stated concern about the effects of extraterrestrial habitation on my physiology," Rei replies, basically just throwing Noriko's words back at her but in more NERV-ous language. "Regarding your question: both."

Rei stands there for a long few moments. Soon it becomes rather obvious that she's not going to explain further unless prompted. She just seems to be waiting for 'Coach' here to take the lead.

Noriko has that slight chill, but hasn't.../quite/ noticed the source, yet. She is, for all that she is friendly and open-hearted, slightly dim. She does eventually discover places other than Rei's eyes to put her gaze, gaze wandering slightly past toward the far end of the room, where she has set the far cone for Rei's laps. She may have slightly overshot the mark, she thinks. "Coach is fine," Noriko says, because she totally is a coach now and that makes her giddy.

But she has to snap to soon enough. Extraterrestrial habitation - oh, like, work in space, Noriko thinks. She's a coach now, that means she totally doesn't have to say everything out loud. Noriko nods. "In Fraternity, and in the old Top Squadron, we thought that it was best for a pilot's body to be just as strong as their machine. A health body breeds a healthy mind and a healthy spirit, I think." She tips a grin, explaining, "When everything is in unison, a true Top pilot is born. Well, we won't be setting the bar quite that high to start, though." She laughs. "But..." her grin falters, a little, thoughtfully. "I guess NERV doesn't ask much of you in that departmnet. Do you do any exercises?" Not an accusation: Just a question. Got to get all the info she needs, after all.

Rei doesn't react to the 'Coach is fine' comment. No confirmation whatsoever -- no 'okay,' no nod, no smile, nothing. It's as if Noriko was talking and Rei just happened to be standing there, profoundly lost in her own little world. Whether or not Rei is even /listening/ is not immediately obvious.

This trend continues as Noriko gives an inspiring speech about the necessity of proper health and fitness. Rei doesn't look exactly /bored/, but more... removed from the equation completely, as if this were all happening adjacent to her, instead of being something she's actually present within. The rumors of Rei being a Coordinator seem awfully misleading -- she's more like one of those Cyber Newtypes. No wonder Leo banged her.

When asked a question, though, Rei's eyes snap to Noriko's, and her answer comes quickly -- quickly for Rei, anyway, which means there's still that beat between question and answer, as if Rei were transmitting from a distant star. "Not beyond the physical exertion of piloting an Evangelion. It has never been a concern of NERV's in the past."

'A concern of NERV's,' as opposed to a concern of Rei's. What a trooper.

Noriko is beginning to understand - why they advised her Rei is hard to work with. And just how useful Leo's advice may end up being, even if she ended up not.../quite/, asking him about the right thing.

There's that awkward beat. Noriko waits for her answer, even as Rei seems to stare through her more than at her. It's unsettling, she decides; Noriko's never worked with a cyber newtype or anything like it before. In the DC, she mostly was the student - working under Master Asia, Gentle Chapman, Bian Zoldark himself. Distant men who probably would not be troubled to work with someone like Rei. Noriko doesn't have the luxury of picking - and might have agreed anyway, given her enthusiastic nature.

"I see," Noriko says, nodding. "Then, I guess that explains a fair bit." Like just the fact that Rei is pretty much a noodle. She catches it, this time - a concern of NERV's. Now she's looking for it. Very controlled behavior. Like the really creepy School kids, she thinks. "We'll start with the easy stuff, I think..."

Girls like this used to sit out, she thinks. Actually, more like, they just didn't appear at Space Piloting High School. If you couldn't cut it physically there was no point to even being there. What do you even do for basics, with someone who looks like they could snap in half with a breeze? "Can you run?" Noriko asks - not commanding it yet, wanting to find out if Rei's little noodle legs will break if forced to propel her beyond a brisk walk.

Rei went to normal high school -- as normal as any high school that's secretly a wing of the Marduk Institute can be, really. No fancy-schmancy Space Piloting High School for her. But even then, Rei /did/ sit out of P.E. -- consistently and thoroughly. Maybe that's why the Top Squadron uniforms seem to make her uncomfortable -- they're awfully close to what she used to have to wear. And on the Minerva, there's no obligation for her to hit the gym. Mostly, she's just left to her own devices in her quarters.

Whether or not Rei prefers this is anyone's guess, but the evidence leaning toward one direction over the other is the fact that she is not only a fragile little doll of a girl, but the further twist that she looks like getting the slightest sun-tan would literally kill her.

Rei still hasn't blinked.

The tiny Evangelion pilot takes another long moment to answer the question, not really doing anything to fend off the perception of her as, well, one of the really creepy School kids. Her face is almost completely expressionless, her mouth a flat, thin line, her gaze dull. One could almost assume she was stoned, but she certainly sounds sharp enough when she replies: "Yes, Coach."

On the other hand, NERV wants her to get in shape! So that's good, right!? Noriko, ever optimistic, chooses to believe that her superiors want her exercising in the name of her personal health, rather than, for instance, to be able to detect exactly when her motor centers start failing, or at what point she begins being unable to speak in anything but two-thousand-plus-year-old Aramaic.

Noriko, content in oblivion, instead worries herself over Rei's state. Is she eating properly? Some part of her, the gregarious girl with too few friends her own age ("her own age", which in this context has /no meaning whatsoever/) and no sense of self control, wonders if she shouldn't be trying to connect with Rei, but there's just...no response. How do you connect with it? You don't.

No wonder it's so easy to mark people like this off as inhuman. But...at the same time, Noriko knows that this is done to people; they made, not born. They deserve to be treated kindly, even if their own behavior is cut-and-pasted from itself a thousand timse.

"Alright," Noriko says. "By the way, I noticed in your file you're vegetarian, right? Is there anything I should know you don't want to eat? Sometimes changes to your diet can help build up your body, but I don't want to ask you to eat something you don't like."

Rei, too, is oblivious, if not contentedly so. As she vacantly stares at Noriko, her mind is largely elsewhere, asking the important questions, such as 'why is it so important that I do this?' Admittedly, yes, her energy level seems to always go up after a spin in the GN Evangelion, and she has trouble working it all off, but...

...but having not piloted the unit in a week, she feels, if not normal, at least normalesque. Perhaps, she reasons, they wish to minimize injury in the course of piloting the Evangelion, but at this late stage -- and Rei knows it's a late stage -- she wonders why they'd even bother. As much as she knows, as much as she's been able to discover... Rei still knows that NERV is a shell game, and if you're under one shell, then you're not seeing whatever's under the others. This bothers Rei. Of course, she steadfastly refuses to show it at all.

"I am a vegetarian, yes," Rei says, as if the topic were so crushingly boring that Noriko should be ashamed to bring it up. It's easy to assign value judgments to someone so blank -- Rei's listless, flat expression and monotone could easily be mistaken for boredom, or nihilism, or antagonism.

"I will not eat meat," Rei continues, ending the sentence as if she intends to continue, not putting that final period after the statement. But then a moment passes, then two, then three, then... and Rei still doesn't continue.

Sisters in ignorance. Well, it wouldn't be so bad if not for the topic...

There's any number of reasons to keep a piloting officer in shape, Noriko reasons. It's not an uncommon tactic to try and breach a cockpit and force the pilot into infantry combat - especially among the more savvy guerilla forces. It's even been documented happening in battles between Katharon and the EFA. And of course, a stronger body means Rei can defend herself against kidnappers - always a threat to high-level projects like Project E. There's various reasons to make it palatable, anyway, including just Rei's general poor health. Nobody needs to know the true reasons - sure not Noriko.

Noriko is attempting to power through on sheer chirpy bravado, but it's hard to keep it up when Rei answers everything in as neutral, disengaged a tone as she possibly can.

Maybe they're testing to see how long it takes Rei to make Noriko depressed? Now /that/ would be worth studying.

But the response is incomplete. Noriko tilts her head. "Is there something else?" she prompts. "I know some vegetarians prefer not to eat dairy..." Though that's diving deep into the culture, and Noriko is so ignorant of these things.

If Noriko knew the complete story regarding Rei's diet, she would probably have some sort of heart attack localized entirely within an ulcer. This is because Rei's diet is, even by the standards of people who are amazingly out of shape, extremely poor. Rei subsides mostly on soups and noodles, and usually the soups are full of noodles anyway. This is occasionally bolstered by fruits and vegetables, but good luck finding those in a vending machine on the Minerva these days. Soon she'll be stuck eating velveeta and rice like those poor bastards on the Shirogane. The added cheese-paste might actually cause her to not be quite so freakishly skinny, though. Who knows.

"I have no objections to dairy," Rei replies, again just kind of brushing the question off, as if it were somehow beneath her. Then a miracle happens: Rei continues speaking, after a very slight pause -- it's like she's analyzing every sentence before she can allow her lips to open.

"If you will be implementing a specific dietary regimen, feel free to do so. I would assume NERV has already forwarded you my pharmaceutical requirements, most of which fail to conflict with food substances." It's a two-page, single-spaced list, with much of the content blacked out, and no real reasons given for any of the prescriptions.

"I will only refuse to eat flesh." Rei let her eye contact drift for a moment there, but on that last note it suddenly snaps back -- and suddenly she's not looking /through/ Noriko, but definitely, definitely /at/ her, as if to drive home that the point is non-negotiable.

Noriko saw the sheet. She thought it was a printer error and it took her about five minutes to find the handful of un-blocked-out compounds, none of which she recognized. When she showed Coach he just glowered in his usual Coachly way.

That could've meant anything, though. He might have been flashing back to that time Tashiro kicked his ass at mahjong.

Noriko actually seems to notice with surprise when Rei /volunteers/ information, rather than forcing Noriko to navigate her brain like an oldschool file system. After a second of surprise, Noriko hums...and nods, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes briefly. After a moment's contemplation, she says, "I'll think about putting one together. It might help you. For now, we'll start nice and simple - I'll guide you through some stretches to warm up!"