Oh My Misato? Oh My Misato?
A silly fusion sketch
Andrew Carey
Characters and situations of Neon Genesis Evangelion, Oh My Goddess!, You're Under Arrest, Ranma One-Half and anything else I've briefly mentioned belong to their creators and publishers. They're merely borrowed for this non-profit fanfiction.

Ikari Shinji sighed and closed his book. Enough studying; he was hungry. Across the lounge, one of Aida's model robots beeped and whirred. Shinji shook his head. Damn all robots. Why can I never get away from the bloody things? He'd figured the Nekomi Institute of Technology would allow him a peaceful life of books and cars and motorbikes. This was nearly as bad as living with his mother's and father's and sister's inventions: the android cat-girls, the experimental war mecha, the thousand other semi-functional gadgets.

The replica Veritech launched missiles. Shinji ducked, and the projectiles slammed into the wall. Two clung; the third suction cup failed. The robot turned, tracking. Shinji flipped the fallen dart at its head, and it flinched away. He used the moment gained to scrabble for the airsoft pistol he'd picked up and customised last month, the day after one of Aida's toys first took a shot at him. "Nine Hells!" It was in his briefcase, across the room. He rolled, avoiding the second flight. Damn guns-- never there when you need them. Wish I could fling energy blasts like Cousin Ranma. Aunt Miyuki would chew his ear off if she could see this; he should have been carrying it. Sure, people would look at him a little funny, but Nekomi had much worse. The Duelling Club and their roses, for example.

He pulled the weapon, worked the slide. Two pellets to the head knocked the robot to the floor. He chambered another round, watched it for twenty seconds. It wasn't moving. Time to call for takeaway. Ramen, maybe. He was just reaching for the phone when he noticed the phalanx of Gundams.

Three clips later, the floor was littered with expended plastic pellets and feebly flopping miniature mecha. The walls were stuck with darts and spotted here and there with the soot of smoke bombs. Sweet Amaterasu-sama, how does he make all these damned things and still have time to do his homework? Then again, he'd never seen Aida actually do any school work, or his buddy Suzuhara either. Strange guys.

The last spasm of a superdeformed Ares launched a final round. By some mischance, the errant missile struck Shinji directly in the forehead. "Shit!" He aimed the pistol and burned the magazine into the offending mobile suit.

His stomach rumbled.

It was still rumbling ten minutes later. "What? You don't deliver? You did last week!"

"Look, compadre, we're short handed. The delivery guys got caught up in that Godzilla attack on Tuesday. Three of them are in hospital, one's hiding in a basement across town, and two quit."

"What? A little monster attack? What kind of Japanese person gets-- "*click*

One last pizza place. He dialed the phone.

"Hello! You have reached the Goddess Relief Service Hotline. Your call is important to us, and may be monitored for quality control purposes. You are now being transferred to the first available deity."

What the...? He should hang up right now, he really should.

"Hello. Goddess First Class Misato here."

"I'm sorry, uh, miss. I think I've, ah, got the wrong number..."

"Oh, no. Everyone who calls this office has exactly the right number. Mmmm, you've got a nice voice. I'll be there to fulfill your wish in a few seconds." She giggled.

"May I come in?" It was impossible. The television was turned off. There was no way there could be a purple-haired woman on the screen. Much less one talking in the same high, schoolgirlish voice he'd just heard on the phone. "Please? Pretty please with sugar on top?"

"Umm... okay."

"Thanks." She stepped out of the screen and stretched. "My, that was a tight fit in there." She wore a quasi-military uniform, rank tabs on the jacket collar and a row of medal ribbons on the breast, but the jacket was unbuttoned, with a halter-top beneath, and her skirt barely reached mid-thigh; her thick purple queue dangled twenty centimeters below the hem. "So, what can I do you for? " She plonked herself down, sitting knee to knee on the floor with him.

"I don't understand."

"I'm here to fulfill your wish. If you want wealth and fame, a fleet of Ferraris and a harem of supermodels, I can do that. If you want to destroy the world, I can do that, too. Of course, I think you're too cute to be that kind of guy." She tapped her finger on his nose. "You wouldn't want to disappoint me, would you?"

"Ummm, no."

"Good! So, what'll it be?"

"Well, I..."

"Would you like to be a hero? I could give you a biomechanical war robot, with a vibrating knife and a giant assault rifle. You could fight mysterious invaders from God-knows-where and be worshipped by an entire class of adorable fourteen-year- olds. And your family could have big roles, too. Sound right?"

"No! I hate robots."

"Sorry. I thought maybe this was your hobby." She waved her hand at the scene of miniature destruction.

He sighed. "No. It was just self-defense."

"I see." She smiled. "That's nice. I was worried you might be some kind of mecha geek. They scare me."

"Me too." There was a long pause.

"So, surely you want something. What's going on in your life? Are you lonely? Tired? Stuck in a rut?"

Lonely. The word struck a place in his heart he'd barely known existed. He was lonely. He didn't just miss his family and his friends from high school; he missed something he'd never had. "Yes."

"Why? I bet there are dozens of girls who'd love to go out with a guy like you."

"Not really."


"Look at me! I'm short."

"They say it's how you use it that really counts." She winked and waggled her eyebrows.

He blushed. "Not like that!" He stood up. She followed him. He looked up into her eyes, five centimeters above his. "You see what I mean?"

"Doesn't bother me." She ruffled his hair. "So, any ideas what you'd like? Or should I say 'who'? Maybe that cute Asuka chick? Maybe four fiancees like your cousin? Hmm?"

That wasn't it. "Umm..."

"Maybe a cute goddess?"

She'd been teasing him all along. He'd better stop acting like a tongue-tied kid and tease her back. "Sure. A cute goddess. Like you."

Her face went blank. Damn, he'd screwed up. "I'm sorry. Really. I was just kidding." She didn't say anything. He should have remembered the stories. Never get a goddess angry. They do things to people they're not happy with. He was probably going to get reincarnated as a toad or a newt or a politician or something.

Papers and books and cushions and robots began to swirl around the room, caught up in a vortex of air and energy. "Namu Amida Butsu. Namu Amida Butsu. Namu Amida Butsu." He'd never been very religious, but maybe the Buddha would take pity. He hoped so. His skin began to tingle with ki, and he braced himself to meet his fate...

Just as the spinning stopped, and everything fell back into exactly the same place where it had been. The goddess-- Misato, that was her name-- opened her eyes. "The Ultimate Force has granted your wish," she said softly. "Yay!" She glomped him. "I'll call you Shin-chan! And we'll have parties, and drink beer when it's hot, and sake when it's cold, and eat barbecued eels, and you'll love my pet penguin, and we'll go for long romantic rides on your motorcycle, and..."

"I was just joking."

"No, you weren't. The Ultimate Force says so. You're stuck with me. Lucky you. Lucky me." She leaned down, puckering her lips.

Only to bump her forehead on the dart still stuck to his. "Damn, that smarts." She took the shaft in her fingers and pulled on the shaft.


She tugged harder. It clung to his skin. "Don't worry, Shin-chan, I'll get it out."

"Stop pulling on it."

"Don't be a wimp, Shin-chan. I'll have it out in a second."

"You have to break the seal." He reached up and slipped a fingernail underneath the edge of the suction cup. "Like that."

"Oh. That's really clever."


"I thought it was an arrow. I was going to pull it out, and heal you, and it was going to be really romantic."

"That's romantic?"

"The Valkyries are always talking about stuff like that. Brave warriors are always grateful when a pretty girl heals them to fight another day, and of course..." she trailed off. "We can still do that part, can't we?"


"This!" She pressed her lips against his, slid her tongue inside his mouth. "Mmm, Shin-chan..."

He fainted.

"Hmmmph?" Something was tickling his nose. It must be another one of his sister's weird alarm clocks. He hoped it wasn't a cat-rabbit again. "Man, I just had the strangest dream..."

"What was it, Shin-chan?"

He opened his eyes. "I'm still dreaming." He was lying across the lap of that same girl. The one who'd came out of the television set and said she was a goddess. Her long thick purple plait was flipped over her shoulder, and she held the end of it in her hand. She tickled his nose again.

"No, you're not. I'm real. Completely and utterly." She leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Sit up, okay?"

He obeyed without thinking. "Why?"

"Because it's my turn to sit in your lap!" She plopped herself down on his knee and wrapped her arms about him, laid her head on his shoulder. "Hmm, you smell nice."

"Umm, where are you going to stay tonight?"

She giggled. "Why do you have to ask? I'm sure your room's big enough for two."

"You can't do that."

"Why not? I'm yours. The Ultimate Force says so."

"There's no women allowed here."

"Oh, that's fine. I'm not a woman, I'm a goddess."

"It's an all-guys dorm!"

She rolled her eyes. "You shouldn't have said that."

"What? Why?"

The door burst open. "Hey, Ikari! Any messages?" Aida called.

"Yeah. Dey bring dem bike parts, dude?" Suzuhara added in his thick Osaka accent.

Aida was the first to notice. "My robots! What happened?" He picked up a tiny Gundam, cradled it in his arms. "Wing Zero? What did that mean Ikari do to you?"

"It's called self-defense. I don't like being shot at."

Misato sat up, her arm still about his shoulders. "Yeah! Anybody who tries to mess with my Shin-chan's gonna answer to me!"

"What da hey! Ikari's got a goil in here!"

"I can explain..."

"No excuses! Ya know da rools! Kick 'im out, boys!"

Doors opened up and down the hall. Guys Shinji had never seen before stuck their heads out. Bikers in bandannas and leather, urban cowboys, would-be samurai with hachimaki and hakama, two pairs of Laurel-and-Hardy impersonators, a six-footer in a chicken suit, and at least one blond wearing full bedouin robes. "The rules, the rules! Ikari broke the rules!" they chanted.

Aida looked up from his wounded mech. His eyes widened. "Hey, she's hot!"

"Sorry, little boy," Misato snarled. "I'm only interested in men. Like my Shin-chan." She paused. "Well, okay, I do like girls, sometimes."

"Wow. Hubba-hub-- hey!" Shinji snatched a plastic knife from the table and, without thinking, snapped it towards Aida, a fast hard single-turn throw that tacked the skinny boy to the wall by the shoulder of his shirt, the disposable implement driven five centimeters into the sheetrock.

There was a sudden silence. He drew himself up to his full height. "We're going." Misato took his arm, and they left the lounge.

Suzuhara followed them to the door. "Hey, Ikari? We'll send yer stuff when ya find a new place. And no hard feelings, eh? Aida shouldn'ta said dat about yer lady."

Outside, Misato hugged him. "Oh, Shin-chan! You were magnificent!"

"Right. Some magnificent. I've got us kicked out in a rainstorm, and I don't even-- hey, my sidecar's fixed!"

Misato smirked. "The Ultimate Force strikes again. C'mon, let's go find a bar."