Another Day in the Life of Shinji:

Today for Shinji, he had a purpose in mind as he headed to his destination.
To find out just why there were never any photos of him being held in his mother's arms as a newborn, for one thing.
As well as there being no photos of his mom pregnant.
There were other photos, sure, which dated from the time she would have gotten pregnant with him until the day he was born, but not a single one with her in it.
He found it highly suspicious.

When he asked his father and mother why, they both told him that his mother had been very photo-shy at the time because of how she looked.
He honestly didn't believe that, but knew better than to press forward. If he continued to press something that they didn't want to tell without further proof, they would inevitably rebut him.

His Aunt Belia wouldnt tell him the truth either, and she loved Shinji like he was her own child (not that she had any as she was a invalid).

Even Elpis wouldn't tell him, claiming that he didn't know why either.

Which is why he was heading to his Aunt Cynthia's house today.
Because he figured that of all people, she might be the only one who knew the answer.
Unlike the others, she didn't hold back much either with what she thought, a trait that had apparently started in her youth.

He knocked on her door, and she answered.
Aunt Cynthia was a woman about five ft, 4 inches, and she was wearing a yellow t-shirt and brown shorts that matched her fairly long blonde hair that reached her shoulders and green eyes.

"Oh! Shinji! Right on time! Come in! Have a seat while I get us some drinks!" she said in a chipper tone with a smile, and he nodded, having promised to be there at nine o'clock sharp.

"As always." he said, stepping into the house.
The inside was neat and tidy as usual, and he sat down on a black couch in the living room near the TV and coffee table in lieu of a dining table and chairs. A black desk was nearby, close to the kitchen, that had a laptop on.
These days, he knew she was a successful businesswoman. It payed fairly well, but it often had paperwork that she had to take home.

His Aunt Belia now worked for a major record group as a senior director of the company.

His mother on the other hand, was an acoustical engineer these days, a much more respectable career than his father's choice to go into writing novels.

But his eyes wandered to what was hung on the desk wall above it that would have made a lot of people's eyes go very wide if they knew the significance of what it was

It being a diamond record certification with her name on it that stood out alongside a few gold and a platinum records, as well as a framed poster advertising a concert for the idol group "Mus3" performing songs from their best-known album "Whispers of the Muse.", the very album that the certification was there for.

Yes, once upon a time, his mother and her two sisters had been one of Junction's most popular immigrant idol groups, even winning a Grammy for Best Pop Vocal Album (although personally, he couldn't remember if that was true or not, seeing as, if he recalled correctly, his Aunt Belia had taken the Grammy after the group broke up, although at the very least, he knew they were nominated at some point).

The trio had a bright future in this for them, publishing several other albums as well, although none came close to "Whispers of the Muse." in terms of how much they sold. Even today, they were still fairly well known to the adult generation.

However, the band retired one day, the official reason being so that the girls could properly pursue their studies, which wasn't entirely wrong, but that wasn't all of it.
Shinji, however, knew the full truth.

It was because of his father.
When his mother had started dating him, she found it harder and harder to commit to both that and the idol life, especially since she had to try extremely hard to keep it secret so that it didn't erupt into a major uproar.

In the end, she had to make a choice: either drop the idol group, her dream, in pursuit of the man she claimed to love, or to drop the man she said she loved in pursuit of her dream.

She took the former option, of course, leading to the group disbanding. It hadn't been pretty, because he knew Aunt Cynthia sometimes muttered about how she wished they hadn't broken up then, and that according to those same mumblings, it had only broken up by a majority vote.

Honestly, he figured that of the three of them, Aunt Cynthia had loved being an idol the most, because she seemed to be the one to miss it the most.
Still, he could tell that she loved her sisters, and so she never made a big fuss about it.

Of course, he had found it hilariously stupid, personally, of how she ditched the band for his father of all people.
She had it made, yet she threw it away for a pathetic loser of a man.
Love, he knew, made people stupid, although in this case, he found it especially so.

From Romeo and Juliet, to The Three Musketeers, The Count of Monte Cristo, and countless other works of literature, love, he knew, could inspire great things.
But also inspire great tragedy.

Which is what he found so mysterious about it, really, that such a force existed.

Unlike tragedy, which broke and could make someone, hope, which universally inspired people, and despair, which drove people mad, hope was something that seems to combine the three.

Tragic love was born out of one's despair for the hope of being loved. Loved itself, on a fundamental level, was a hope to find someone that they belonged with, and despair was the loneliness.

He couldn't understand it. If it was something that was brought people pain, how could it also bring so much good?

Most things either did one or the other, or one then the other.
Love did both at the same time.

Before he could ponder this any further, Aunt Cynthia returned with some drinks and an envelope that she passed to Shinji.

"You told me why you were coming when you called, Shinji. Also, this is a little gift from me to you. Consider it a thanks for the last time you helped me." she said, passing it to him.
He opened it, and found it contained money, which he pocketed.
The last time he helped her was the time where he had taken care of the house while she had been gone last week on a business trip, which was part of the payment he had received for doing this.
The other part was the information he was to receive.

"Thank you." He said, taking the drink as well, a glass of water for him, a iced tea for herself.

"Now then... tell me the truth, please." He said in a calm tone, the fire of curiosity in his eyes burning brightly like a torch in the night.

"Why are there no photos of my mother pregnant with me?" he asked her.

To be continued...