It hasn't happened yet. [is all he says in response.] I'll celebrate when it's all gone. [It might be pessimistic of him—or realistic, depending on the vantage point—but he's learned to keep both feet planted on the ground, because very few things in life are a straight, simple line. He likes to believe that someday the tower will be gone, along with everything associated with it, but there's no proof that will be the case, only speculation.
He hopes it works. He hopes destroying that last Shadow will tear it down. It's easy to want to believe in Aki's enthusiasm, smile a little at the humor. (The only reason you can kick my ass is because I let you.) He hates Tartarus, in his own way. It stands for everything the Dark Hour is, and it's easy to want to blame Tartarus as the source of all his problems, shift the blame to something inanimate and incapable of feeling regret, and hate how he had ever woken up to the Dark Hour. How he had pushed himself into in the whole affair despite Ikutsuki warning him that he didn't have potential. He had been reckless and stubborn then because he hadn't wanted to leave Aki to his own, more thoughtless brand of recklessness and stubbornness. It's something he can't regret doing, but he does regret not hanging back and being more careful. He hadn't understood how expensive mistakes can be.
But, ultimately, the fault is still his.
Though some of his thoughts stray somewhere else, he still listens, scoffs silently at some of what Aki says.
Of course Aki wouldn't stop training. It isn't in his blood to. Shinji's not a fan of it—for as much as the two of them fight, it's not something he's into—but it's better to box than to fight Shadows every night, and one day Aki'll probably go out of it. He just wishes he could know that Aki wasn't about to jump headlong into stupid shit that he can't pull Aki back from.
His mind then wanders to the hanging question, and his eyes go distant for a moment. He shrugs his shoulders.] That ain't something I've thought about.
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He hopes it works. He hopes destroying that last Shadow will tear it down. It's easy to want to believe in Aki's enthusiasm, smile a little at the humor. (The only reason you can kick my ass is because I let you.) He hates Tartarus, in his own way. It stands for everything the Dark Hour is, and it's easy to want to blame Tartarus as the source of all his problems, shift the blame to something inanimate and incapable of feeling regret, and hate how he had ever woken up to the Dark Hour. How he had pushed himself into in the whole affair despite Ikutsuki warning him that he didn't have potential. He had been reckless and stubborn then because he hadn't wanted to leave Aki to his own, more thoughtless brand of recklessness and stubbornness. It's something he can't regret doing, but he does regret not hanging back and being more careful. He hadn't understood how expensive mistakes can be.
But, ultimately, the fault is still his.
Though some of his thoughts stray somewhere else, he still listens, scoffs silently at some of what Aki says.
Of course Aki wouldn't stop training. It isn't in his blood to. Shinji's not a fan of it—for as much as the two of them fight, it's not something he's into—but it's better to box than to fight Shadows every night, and one day Aki'll probably go out of it. He just wishes he could know that Aki wasn't about to jump headlong into stupid shit that he can't pull Aki back from.
His mind then wanders to the hanging question, and his eyes go distant for a moment. He shrugs his shoulders.] That ain't something I've thought about.