Deleted Scene: turned to steel

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Class 2-A. Tokyo-3 First Municipal Middle School.
T-50 Hours, 55 Minutes

"I'm Asuka Langley Soryu. Charmed, I'm sure!"

It was all about first impressions with the norms. Stand up straight and proud. Chest out. One hand on hips to convey strength. Smile coyly, with just a hint of mystery. And bam -- one perfect Big Entrance, straight out of Papa's playbook.

She'd nailed it, of course. Looking around the classroom, Asuka could tell she already had most of the boys practically drooling (not that she cared about this pack of Neanderthal mouthbreathers, eww -- but she needed to establish her spot on the social hierarchy somehow, and every paper she'd read made it clear that sexual attractiveness was a key factor to status among adolescent females). With the exception of what's-his-face, Mr. Small Fry, and his nerd friend -- but why worry about them. (Besides, it's not like they both didn't want her anyway.) Then there was Shinji, the big dope -- staring at her blankly, like a newborn infant being presented with a new color. (Seriously, this was the famous Third Child? This... this kid? Well, okay, he'd had enough chops to stay out of her way on the carrier, but still...)

Anyway, onto the introduction speech. She'd run through it twice the previous night, so she wasn't as worried about this part. All she had to do was --

"Right, sorry, could we just put this on pause?"

Asuka snapped her head around. Who dared -- oh, wait, that must be the teacher. He swept into the room, brown coat billowing, a stack of papers under his arm.

"But," she said.

"Miss Soryu, wasn't it? Thank you. That was -- um -- different. We'll get back to introductions in just a minute. If you could just take your seat -- just have a few announcements before we get started --"

She went back to her desk, silently fuming. How rude! Who did this idiot think he was, anyway?! And what kind of shoddy teacher arrived five minutes late to his own class?! Actually, now that she thought about it, the whole classroom looked shoddy. The wall off to the side looked like it was made out of cheap plywood, barely even painted. And were those scorch marks on the ceiling?...

"So. Um." The teacher leaned against the chalkboard. "Here we are again, then. One week later. Just a week..." He scratched the back of his head. "Is this seriously how these things go, though? Big attack, then just back to work? No sort of... group therapy? Or charity telethon? Celebrity singalong, maybe?... No?"

No one said anything. Asuka stole a sidelong glance at the girl sitting next to her. She seemed to be crying silently. Weird... what was that about?

"Blimey. No wonder I don't usually stick around for this part." He coughed. "Anyway -- right, announcements. I'll be taking over Science and Literature for the time being, while Mr. Kolke is off recovering... from, er, being a zombie. And as I just found out about this seven minutes ago and the lesson plans seem to have been vaporized at some point, I'm thinking we'll spend most of today on Muppet Show reruns.

"Oh -- and heard from Miss Horaki's father this morning. She's doing fine. Just a light concussion. He left her number at the hospital, if anyone wants to get in touch.

"And that's it, I think. Any questions? Anyone?... Toji?"

Mr. Limpy lowered his hand. "Muppet Show... That's the one with the frog, right?"

"Right."

He nodded solemnly. "Acceptable."

"Anyone else, then?... No? All right, briefly to English. Just a quick refresher to make sure you understand the two old blokes in the peanut gallery. And forget about the homework from last time, it's not important..." The teacher turned and started scribbling on the chalkboard.

Unbelievable. He'd seriously forgotten about her introduction?! Asuka had half a mind to simply storm out of the classroom. Who could've possibly given this moron a teaching certificate?....

... Although...

She gave the teacher another look. Tall. Skinny. Accent straight from London. Very nice suit... not quite as cute as Mr. Kaji, but still...

She turned to the girl on her other side - the one who wasn't leaking. "Hey," she whispered. "What's this guy's name?"

The girl pushed her glasses back. "That's the Doctor."

"Okay... but what's his name?"

The girl shrugged.

Obviously, the Japanese education system had missed a candidate for the special class. Still, at least that gave Asuka something to work with. She raised her hand. "Excuse me, Doctor?"

He turned. "Er, yes, Miss Soryu?"

"What should we do if we already speak English?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Really."

"Sure. I spent part of my childhood in America." She tried her best BBC impression. "See, I can even manage an English accent..."

"Yeah, don't do that. Really, don't." He scratched his chin. "Still, all the same -- Willkommen, fräulein. I'll have to figure something out..."

"Oh," she said, surprised. "Sprichst Du Deutsch?"

"Eh, ein wenig." He waved a hand. "But anyway --"

She switched to Russian. "Ty govorish' po-russki?"

(At this point, the entire class was staring at her. Perfect.)

"Well, da..."

"Et parles-tu français?"

He grinned. "Oh, naturellement!"

Then he said something she couldn't quite make out.

Asuka narrowed her eyes and concentrated. "Was that Norwegian?"

"Swedish, actually. No, wait..." He paused and thought for a moment. "Old Norse... right. Forget I said that."

She blinked.

"Still -- not bad, Miss Soryu. Not bad at all." The Doctor grinned again. "Let me give it some thought. Should be able to find something to keep you entertained..." He turned back to the chalkboard.

Asuka sat back in her seat. Well... easy on the eyes and smarter than he looked. (Though why anyone would learn a Scandinavian language -- much less an extinct one -- was beyond her. That was, like, double the useless.) Things were looking up. Maybe this school thing wasn't going to be a complete waste of time after all...

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