Sena Ayanami -

“Are not missing.” Hoshino gestured to a row of smaller tanks along the far wall, still dark. “They’re being converted. Their cognitive maps are too valuable to waste on ordinary lives. You see, Sena, the Academy was never a school. It was a harvest.”

She smiled. It was an unfamiliar expression on that face. She decided she liked it. sena ayanami

The clone knew her moves because the clone was her. But the clone had never improvised. “Are not missing

"You see the patterns, don’t you, Ayanami? Then you know what’s coming." You see, Sena, the Academy was never a school

Not similar. Identical. The same storm-gray eyes, closed now. The same high cheekbones, the same small, unsmiling mouth. Wires ran from her temples into the ceiling. A label on the tank read: PROJECT ECHO. UNIT 07.

Hoshino was reaching for a panel on the wall. Sena didn’t bother running. She picked up a shard of glass and threw it with the same motion she’d practiced a thousand times for darts, for knives, for anything that flew.

Not even when she found the first note slipped under her pillow.