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シンジ: 「そう」

ミサト: 「じゃ」

と、ストレッチャーの後を追い、去って行く。

○ケイジ

冷却液に浸かっているエヴァンゲリオン初号機。

○初号機?エントリープラグ

塞ぎ込んだ様子のシンジ。

シンジ: 「（MONO）何でもないわか。ミサトさんは本当の事を教えてくれない。アスカ、どうしちゃったんだろ。それに綾波」

インサート一斉にこちらを向く、試験管に入ったレイたち。

シンジ: 「（ポツリと）母さん、父さんは何をしているんだ？」

何も答えない初号機。

○特別単独監房

薄暗くて狭い鉄格子の部屋にリツコが拘束されている。

幾筋もの革の紐で雁字搦めに捕縛されているその姿は、かつての凛然とした面影はなく、まるで魂の抜け殻のようだ。

コツ、コツ、コツ、やがて廊下から靴音が聞こえてくる。

仄かな明りに浮かび上がる碇の姿。

リツコ: 「（放心した様子のまま）猫が死んだのおばちゃんの所に預けていたずっとかまっていなかったのに突然もう会えなくなるのね」

碇: 「赤木博士、何故、ダミープラグを破壊した？」

リツコは答えず、薄笑いを浮かべたまま、目の前を見つめている。

碇: 「もう一度聞く。何故だ」

リツコ: 「なたに抱かれてうれしくなくなった、から。それに、私が壊したのはダミーではないわ。壊したのは、レイ」

碇: 「何だと」

リツコ: 「アレは人間じゃないわ。人の形をしたモノ。だから死んだんじゃないの。壊れちゃったの。レイはなたの玩具。もっとも私もなたの玩具には変りなかったけど」

碇: 「」

リツコ: 「司令が来たのは新しい玩具の調子が悪かったせいかしら。ここには馴染んだ玩具がりますからね。好きにしたらどうです。何でもしてさし上げますよ。のお人形さんほど遊び心地はよくないでしょうけど」

碇: 「君には失望した」

リツコ: 「失望？」

突然、堰を切ったようにゲラゲラ嗤い出すリツコ。

リツコ: 「初から何も望んでなかったくせに！　私には何も！　何も！」

ボロボロと涙が零れ、嗤いはいつしか嗚咽に変わっていく。

黙って立ち去っていく碇。

ガッシャーン！　ドアの閉まる音が、リツコの泣き声を遮断する。

○ホール（夢）

エレベーターの前に立つシンジ。

開くドア。

その奥にレイ。

ステンレスの壁面が無数のレイの鏡像を映し出している。

レイと目が合い、硬直してしまうシンジ。

○シンジの部屋

パッと、ベッドから跳ね起きるシンジ

シンジ: 「」

○第３新東京市?全景

先の戦いにおける零号機の自爆で、第３新東京市は壊滅状態となっている。

風の吹き荒れる中、瓦礫を踏みしめ、ゴーストタウンを彷徨するシンジ。

　 ○一角

歩いていたシンジ、どこからかピアノの音が聞こえてくるのに気づく。

　 ○第壱中学校?外観

爆風で廃墟と化している。

　

○同?体育館

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took him in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

　　That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited Harry in his cupboard.

　　"Where's my letter?" said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to me?"

　　"No one. it was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned it."

　　"It was not a mistake," said Harry angrily, "it had my cupboard on it."

　　"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.

　　"Er -- yes, Harry -- about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking... you're really getting a bit big for it... we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom.

　　"Why?" said Harry.

　　"Don't ask questions!" snapped his uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now."

　　The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took Harry one trip upstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room. He sat down on the bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favorite program had been canceled; there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched.

　　From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, I don't want him in there... I need that room... make him get out...."

　　Harry sighed and stretched out on the bed. Yesterday he'd have given anything to be up here. Today he'd rather be back in his cupboard with that letter than up here without it.

　　Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back. Harry was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing he'd opened the letter in the hall. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.

　　When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's another one! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive --'"

　　With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry's letter clutched in his hand.

　　"Go to your cupboard -- I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Harry. "Dudley -- go -- just go."

　　Harry walked round and round his new room. Someone knew he had moved out of his cupboard and they seemed to know he hadn't received his first letter. Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time he'd make sure they didn't fail. He had a plan.

　　The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly and dressed silently. He mustn't wake the Dursleys. He stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights.

　　He was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. His heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall toward the front door --

　　Harry leapt into the air; he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat -- something alive!

　　Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Harry realized that the big, squashy something had been his uncle's face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Harry didn't do exactly what he'd been trying to do. He shouted at Harry for about half an hour and then told him to go and make a cup of tea. Harry shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time he got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap. Harry could see three letters addressed in green ink.

　　I want --" he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before his eyes. Uncle Vernon didnt go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.

　　"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails

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