While Neon Genesis Evangelion’s eighth episode served as Shinji and Asuka’s formal introduction, any camaraderie they might have developed during that adventure was more or less necessitated by circumstance. In the wake of that explosive field trip, their initial impressions seem stable: Shinji finds Asuka mean and terrifying, while Asuka considers Shinji weak and childish. Their ability to work as a team outside of any but the most desperate of circumstances is basically negligible; thus we enter Evangelion’s ninth episode, an episode famous for being the most ridiculous, farcical, and unabashedly Super Robot-influenced episode of all Evangelion. Get ready folks, it’s time to dance like you want to win.
Though this episode is largely consumed by the process of defeating one more Angel, that Angel mostly serves as a vehicle for Shinji and Asuka coming to better understand each other. But as the episode opens, the difficulty of truly coming to understand another is illustrated through a new perspective, as Asuka’s debut at school is portrayed through feverish gossip and even voyeuristic photography. The show doesn’t keep this antagonistic social atmosphere distant from us – the people selling Asuka creepshots are Shinji’s friends, people we’ve come to know and maybe even like. While they poo-poo the situation at large, they still capitalize on Asuka’s appearance, while others frame her as some kind of prize to be won.
Between their callous gossip and the stares of the other girls, it’s clear from the start that Asuka doesn’t have any sort of control of her self-image, and her status as an attractive woman means she is constantly being analyzed and defined in spite of her own feelings. While Shinji found his relative anonymity isolating, Asuka’s debut illustrates that his position is actually a kind of privilege. Asuka can’t help but be noticed and categorized, and her outsized personality is as reflective of that truth as Shinji’s quiet aura is reflective of his.
Asuka demonstrates her ferocity and pride in equal measure during her first meeting with Rei Ayanami. The physical comedy of their meeting acts as a clear reflection of their ultimate relationship – Asuka stomps up to Rei and covers her notebook in shade, which Rei responds to not by actually acknowledging her, but by simply angling her book back into the sun. Their dialogue is equally confrontational – Asuka’s “let’s be good friends” is returned with a “why?”, leading into Asuka’s bluntly utility-oriented “because it’d be convenient” and Rei’s punchline, “I will if I’m ordered to.” The two are polar opposites even down to the balance of their hair and eye colors, and their relationship will never evolve beyond this – Asuka on the offensive, and Rei retreating in a condescending, dismissive way that only makes Asuka angrier.
Meet and greets are soon interrupted by an Angel attack, which is handled with roughly as much seriousness and intensity as their schoolyard squabbles. While previous episodes have done a phenomenal job of impressing upon us the terror of being trapped in an Evangelion, or the horror of the Angels themselves, the leadup to this battle mostly involves Asuka and Shinji bickering about who gets to attack first. There’s some great visual comedy courtesy of the cockpit holograms, with Shinji finding himself literally pushed out of the frame by Asuka’s intensity (something the episode’s ending will double down on by having Shinji literally get smacked by Asuka’s hologram), and when the Angel divides into two parts in response to Asuka’s attack, Misato responds with a petulant “that’s cheating!”
These tonal choices successfully position the Angel fight itself as an afterthought, a funny payoff for an episode that is only meaningfully invested in the relationship between Shinji and Asuka. That choice allows the show to indulge in some truly absurd physical comedy, like the wonderfully slapstick punchline to their first battle. In the battle debriefing, Shinji and Asuka’s continued bickering prompts Fuyutsuki to get angrier than we’ve ever seen him – but to be honest, Fuyutsuki’s gotten off relatively easy so far. Shinji’s generally quiet, wilting demeanor, as well as Evangelion’s discretion in terms of internal monologue, means it’s been easy in the past to think he’s unusually mature for his age. With a very different rival to bounce off, episode nine serves as a firm reminder that our leads are basically still children.
Asuka and Shinji’s slapfight continues through Asuka’s invasion of the Katsuragi home, along with the interrogation of their status as not-quite-children. Just like when Shinji first entered Misato’s apartment, Asuka’s entrance is defined by Shinji’s extreme awareness of her sexuality within this intimate space. While the show plays up the comedy of their rivalry through lots of amusing symmetrical compositions, as well as more overt gags (I love how the exaggerated foreshortening of Asuka leaning in essentially mimics an oversized reaction shot), the underlying conflict remains centered on “how can these very differently wounded adolescents come to terms with each other, pride and hormones and all.”
The fragility of Asuka’s position is made brutally clear when Misato invites Rei over, almost certainly intending to light a competitive fire under Asuka. But Rei’s ease of integration with Shinji does more than that – as we see in her carefully captured expressions, her confidence crumbles at the thought of actually being replaced. Shinji has no way of understanding where Asuka’s fear comes from, but he runs after her all the same; their worldviews are simultaneously incompatible and aligned, like their contrasted reflections on the glass wall between them. Perhaps simply being there is enough; sitting with Asuka as she angrily attacks a sandwich, her usual strength seems restored, leading into her declaration that “for their attack on my pride, I’ll pay them back ten times over!” And at this, Shinji actually smiles – he’s beginning to understand her a little, and can certainly respect someone able to turn vulnerability into strength.
This negotiation of very different perspectives and personalities, cast against their separate traumas and fraught adolescence, reaches a climax on the night before the battle. Upon learning Misato is out for the evening, Asuka immediately steals her yellow shirt, an icon of Misato’s “maturity” that drapes over Asuka like a sheet. Asuka is attempting to embody a sexual and emotional maturity that she can’t truly reach, striving to escape childhood and dependence for reasons we can’t yet understand. She wants that ostensible maturity to be met by a mature male counterpart that pushes back and validates her persona (something we see Kaji himself doing just moments later); instead, she has Shinji.
What follows is one of the most inept sequences of semi-flirtation captured in anime. Upon reaching their mutual bedroom, Asuka loudly declares “that means we’re all alone tonight,” before making a big procession of moving her futon into the other room. Though this could really be intended to keep Shinji away, both her tone and physical movements indicate that she’s hoping he’ll actually make a move. Even her earlier declaration that “it’s not appropriate for girls and boys to sleep together after turning seven” serves to intentionally sexualize their cohabitation, emphasizing that they’re adults, and that sleeping together could not be considered platonic. And then, leaning over in a manner that emphasizes both her sexual maturity and how far she is from actually filling out Misato’s shirt, she ends on the hilariously leading “this is the impenetrable Wall of Jericho.” Not only is this just the sort of provocation that Asuka herself would ignore just to prove she can, but the Wall of Jericho itself is famously known for not being impenetrable, and in fact crumbling during its one meaningful appearance.
But while Asuka may be desperately eager to prove she’s actually mature, her choice of target is still Shinji frickin’ Ikari. Told not to enter Asuka’s room for any reason whatsoever, Shinji proceeds to actually not enter Asuka’s room. Instead, he lies listening to that familiar cassette player, until Asuka entering the room returns him to a state of claustrophobic hyper-alertness. The sequence of Asuka sleepwalking or “sleepwalking” into Shinji’s futon is a masterwork of atmosphere, as the increasingly close shots and squealing of Shinji’s tape naturally echo his frantic emotional state. With Asuka right in front of him, sleep divorcing her from both the anger and agency he finds so frightening, he almost kisses her… only to be stopped as she tears up and whispers a plaintive “mama.”
Both Shinji and Asuka are searching for something the other cannot provide – something perhaps no one can provide, at least at this point in their lives. Having briefly seen Asuka as perhaps embodying a kind of true confidence he could aspire to himself, Shinji retreats from her vulnerability, and grumbles a petulant “you’re just a child yourself.” Shinji is angry and ashamed, at her and at himself. It’s a frustration that will reappear again and again throughout Evangelion, as each of these characters find themselves perpetually unable to offer what the people they care about truly need. The hedgehog’s dilemma of episode two hangs over all of Evangelion’s relationships, as sympathetic but broken people attempt to grow closer without truly understanding each other, thus magnifying the painful, contradictory nature of their desires. This moment of shameful, one-sided emotional expression will eventually be reenacted in one of Evangelion’s most famous and controversial moments, as Shinji and Asuka reach this same impasse at the beginning of End of Evangelion.
But for now, perhaps partial understanding is enough. Having come to understand at least a portion of both Asuka’s strength and weakness, his collaboration with her on the next day’s Angel battle is a glorious celebration of their hard-fought synchronicity. With both animation and shot cuts timed to match the music, Asuka and Shinji’s tandem battle is a thrilling spectacle and absurd gag all at once, their shared strength serving as a validation of both their individual identities and collective efforts. Their fight may end in one more tangled wreck and shouting match, but hey, even people who know each other completely can end up fighting all the time. “Getting close to each other implies pain” is one way of looking at things, but you could also say the opposite – the fact that we hurt each other is a testament to how close we’ve become.
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