[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/zEb0cFq.png[/img]

[color=ed1c24][h3][b]YESHUA HOROWITZ[/b][/h3][/color][/center]

[color=ed1c24]Try. [/color]

Words flashed in Yeshua Horowitz' mind throughout the anemic train ride to NERV headquarters. While the metal cylinder had been as devoid of life as he thought Japanese engineers would have intended, the people aboard it were anything but dull. One, sporting a purple flame on his head that emanated heat the closer he approached him, had already made the train ride hell. Another boy, seemingly a junior in body but unbearably senior in mind, was close to falling into the framework of the train. The constant haunted sound of the train chugging along the tracks was enough to allow his mind to wander, like the steady breathing of a sleeping giant. Thoughts raced faster than the train, but the rails were much too divisive. The sun had begun to hit the thick window at such an angle that the corner of his eye was on fire, like looking through water but not quite. The heat he embraced, as his eyes drifted from the sparkling floor. 

In a foreign land, he was promising to himself that the opportunities within it would be seized, despite his difficulty in flicking the hair out of his eyes. He was making promises to his father, his mother -- and most importantly, himself. Nobody would save him in the coming months. People would be payed to watch over him, or try to surpass him, but he had only one person to trust. But that trust was starting to fade. The hair was still in his eyes.

The breathing of the train continued, the meandering images placed inside his head flooding his mind. He . . . was suffocating. He couldn't breathe. He hated what he was doing to himself. He - 


Saw someone at the back of the train. She was wisely sitting away from the fools by his side. Her hair covered her features. Her posture was nonchalant and eyes a grainy filter. She had much more important things to do than just sit down on a train, slugging through her anxieties. Just for a second, it seemed like the rest of the world didn't matter. All the water and the breathing melted away, leaving behind bubbling marble fractures and stalactites. It was cushioning, it was free, and it was . . . over.

The train had arrived at its destination. 

The rhythm of the past god-knows how long was rudely interrupted by silence, one that bore the release of the tension of the boys in the carriage. The shakes were finally over, as his destination was so close now. There was only so far he had to go, guided by their Captain and Chief . . . Ms. Howeveryousayhername. Katsaruki. Katatachi. Katastrophe. Yeshua giggled a bit at the name; it was pretty clever of him, and he knew he'd definitely bring it up in conversation, and get a laugh from everyone. That would be nice. 

Despite the hyperbolic sun rising on his metaphorical horizon, Yeshua decided to take his next step off the train as one of excitement, of a new opportunity, where he could finally be the person he knew he could be. No more would the German boy exist, left behind on the train. There would be no doubt, but action. There would be no peace, there would be --

A screeching UN fighter jet, stabbing across the sky. Almost blinded by the sun when snapping his head up, a flurry of missiles flew from the metal harpy at an unknown target. The Captain made herself very obvious, her purple hair and quickly flustered face making her easy to find. The only thing more obvious that her was . . . that creature. Its features were absorbed by the crackling of explosives and a large thunder in the earth that almost toppled Yeshua. It was the one thing he was afraid of the most, but the one thing that he had to confront. He was so small, again. The bookcases towered around him. He couldn't do it. Right then, as the UN raised hell upon it and his fellow pilots rushed to the bus, Yeshua froze like a deer in headlights. He was drowning, again.