Under the old bare tree that stood near the door of their home, in the outreaching shade of its claw-like branches, a small child stood, still in his school clothes, the backs of balled-up fists wiping furiously at his eyes as he cried, quietly at first, than screaming outloud.

'I d-d-don't know! I can't—remember!' he cried, voice shaking, head shaking, bones shaking.

Though it seemed like nobody even took notice of the screams, someone finally answered his cries; a boy, a couple of years his senior, walked out the door. Reiji blinked, first in surprise, then calmly stepped out.

He blinked and walked over, long purple hair (the same color as his brother's) streamed down past his shoulders, like the mane of a tamed Pidgeot.

'Shinji?' the boy said after stopping in front of him.

Though his eyes were clouded by tears, the boy could recognize the pair of dirty shoes that crushed the grass in front of him, intruding on the shadows.

'Go 'way,' he managed to say, trying to sound tough, but only sounding tiredly annoyed. 'I don't wanna talk to you.'

Reiji was persistent, however. 'What's wrong?'

Shinji ignored him until the older put a hand on his shoulder. 'Hey. C'mon, what's wrong?'

'Nothing,' but Shinji was also persistent. 'I just… forgot something.'

'Maybe I can help you remember?' he suggested, smiling brightly.

Shinji bit his lip, looking stubbornly at his feet, glaring as if angry at them.

His expression softened after a minute; Reiji would probably still remember.

'D'you…' he started. 'Know what day it is?'

'Saturday? Oh, right!' he clapped the side of his fist against his palm. 'You had a parent-teacher meeting today, didn't you? Aha… of course, how could I forget, I went in mother's place—'

The wistful light-hearted smile faded away almost immediately and Reiji looked back down to find Shinji wincing, as if his words had injured him.

'Mother…' Shinji repeated slowly, as if it were foreign to him.

Why was it suddenly so hard to say? Why did it sound so foreign to his ears, so difficult on his tongue?

Shinji became even more frustrated, but did not have the words to describe how he felt, which only served to increase his frustration.

Reiji tilted his head up and Shinji blinked in surprise.

Reiji tried to smile. He wasn't really used to comforting others, and he was clumsy and a little rougher than he needed to be, but he couldn't stand seeing others upset.

'Do you want to talk about mother, Shinji? Is that it?' he asked, feeling a bit proud of himself for figuring that out and a bit guilty about feeling proud when his brother was hurting.

Shinji frowned, but his glare soon wavered and he looked at his feet again, this time guiltily, toeing the dirt with his shoe. 'Mother… what was she like? I forgot… I even forgot I forgot, but today, when I saw all the mothers and fathers, I remembered her. Only… only I couldn't remember,' he shut his eyes.

'What do you mean?'

Shinji, again, wished he were more capable with words. 'I know I had a mother, but… I can't remember her at all!' his voice was loud again, then quiet as he whimpered out, 'I'm scared, Reiji.'

Reiji bit his lip and again felt guilty for feeling proud earlier, and also wishing he could read minds. Then he got an idea.

'You do remember her.'

'What?' Shinji blinked, frowning. 'Brother, I just told you, I don't remember…'

'You do! Look, remember how she looks… she was kind, strong, nicest mother you'll ever meet. She had beautiful long hair and wore an apron and…'

Shinji was staring at him now. '… What?' Reiji felt a bit self-conscious; looking down at himself and wiping at his face with a sleeve. 'Is there something on me?'

'You,' Shinji said, blinking slowly. 'You wear an apron.'

The tears had stopped now.

'I do,' Reiji said after a moment. 'Only when I cook, so I don't want to get my clothes dirty…'

Shinji lifted his gaze now, to his brother's long hair.

'And your hair's long… did mother have it down like that?'

Reiji smiled and decided not to tell Shinji that his mother had hair a darker color than both of them. 'Only sometimes, usually it was tied into a ponytail.'

'A ponytail?' Shinji repeated, finally walking over to his brother.

'Yes, a ponytail,' Reiji affirmed, taking hold of Shinji's hand.

Shinji looked at him, as thoughtfully as a child of such a young age can look, then said, 'can you tie your hair back?'

Reiji blinked, surprised at the strange request, then slowly smiled. 'Sure…'

And when nobody was around and it was just Reiji and Shinji, Shinji called him mother; not as a replacement, but a reminder.

So when Shinji would turn away in disgust and ask him, years later, why he insisted on wearing that pink apron wherever he went and don't you tell me it's because you're a Breeder, Reiji would simply smile in that kind and laidback way he always did, while he remembered when Shinji was young and it was just the two of them.

He would never forget that Shinji, though Shinji had forgotten him; he would forever remain, the reminder and remembered (as long as Shinji did not forget him).