This is my first ever multi chaptered fan fiction. For this who have not read or seen or even heard of Alison Bechdel's Fun Home or its respective musical, you do not need to know it to enjoy this fanfic. This is technically a song fic; however some lines sync to the musical's songs in meaning rather than the way they were intended. Once again this is my first time, so please guide me as a fanfic writer and comment, favorite and follow. Thank you and enjoy. I do not own any form of commodity attached to Fun Home or Big Hero Six. All forms of their media are owned by their respective owners.
Prologue
Ruins
Walking into that room was like rediscovering the ruins of a failed society built on hormones, sweat, and drool. Wandering the room was a young man, the refugee of the bedroom whose golden age was to be called Adolescence, left in a state that only those who could recognize it now as Teenage Wasteland. But in this wasteland, artifacts hidden away were left to be uncovered, secrets of how this once proud civilization grew as the piles of wastes and forgotten ambitions grew alongside. Now those piles are the artifacts of a land abandoned in a devastation that time had meant this room to fall to. Some never leave this place, this wasteland; however, it was in all intents to be abandoned, for it was merely a cocoon for this civilization, wiped out until one survivor remained. While the house employed the room, the house needn't to be abandoned, for immigrating from one room to the greater and much larger rooms was a much accepted practice, as perhaps the head of household was eliminated or otherwise resigned to a new, perhaps lessor room or living complex. Regardless the teenage wasteland was meant to be left, regardless of the head of household. This particular room was meant to be a cocoon, always has and will be where one must enter, have their stay and must leave. However this young man knew all too well that departing this room may not entail evolution, but the stagnation of live. Death as so it seems.
To this young man approaching the peak of absolute growth, the civilization was made up of only two people, himself and the one he lost before evolution. Tadashi. His civilization was called Hamada bros. The ruins of this civilization could only be deciphered in complete context by this one survivor of this land of adolescence; however it is as if this young man no longer recognizes the landscape of papers, playthings and Knick knacks. The land he revisits is now as foreign to him as any other person who does not see any of the artifacts true worth in memory.
The young man laid across a bed, though covered in dust, to stare at a roof he stared at for over 16 years of his life. The young man, Hiro, has aged visibly. But he has not grown weaker; he has only grown stronger with age. One could say he grew as ripe as a firm peach, and would be smacked for carelessly stating the obvious. But to stare at this ceiling was not his purpose for entering his chrysalis, for he wished to venture to the grave site within this wasteland, in particular, the tombstone and shrine for the fallen brother that been kept intact for many years.
Hiro crept so not to not disturb the dust; the hair follicles' and skin long dead since the fallen brother's passing. The young man stared at the photographs and other antiquities that hold sentimental value rather than the items that better held monetary value. Hiro observed the books once held in sentiment by his late brother, and once all the books and photographs were fawned over and all the objects were polished by curious hands there was nothing left for the young man to do but to stare at the floor his elder once walked, literally walking the footsteps his brother had never intended his younger brother to walk for the masked this area himself with a screen, to shield the younger from the mysteries he never intended to reveal.
Observing the floor, the same he had grown to know over the many years came to a board in which had no other purpose than to be hidden under the foot of the bed. This board was not of the monotonous kind he has grown tired of seeing, certainly not to be overlooked. The younger thought nothing of it at first, perhaps it was produced with the sole purpose of keeping the bed even, but the object only grew on Hiro as he stared at it. As the surviving brother, the younger felt it was his sole duty at the moment was to give perfection to the sanctuary in the teenage wasteland, that above all things in adolescence there was a place of pure balance. As the younger grew older, he began to learn the trades that are required for maintaining a house and in this house in particular. Hiro knew of the floor panels put away from lack of necessary use, that Hiro wished to call into use to replace this lazily put board.
Hiro lifted and shifted the bed to the left to get a visible sight of the board. It was not a particularly long board and not particularly thin in length in area. Hiro put his hand on it, and felt its rough and scratched surface, as if this board had been previously and repeatedly scratched by the careless yanks of the wooden bed frame. The board was loose, and no nails have penetrated the board since its inception. Hiro removed the board to see what could be done to firmly replace the board. The space left under it was what space was left from the high level's floor and the lowest level's ceiling.
Now Hiro knew that the board was not kept as a lazy replacement but a telltale hidden door for a secret compartment. Upon its discovery, Hiro, using the adolescent mind he used to survive in this teenage wasteland, determined upon no evidence that this is where his brother held his vices. To say he was wrong would warrant a slap in the face, but to say he was right would deserve a pat on the bottom and be released to their fellow children, swimming in the gutter.
What Hiro found was not incriminating photographs and letters and objects of shame and vice, but a new book, filled with photographs that the younger was meant to find, like a time capsule of sorts with words written in spaces provided next to such photographs. A photo journal if you will, holding the deep secrets of the past that could only be valued by the younger, of a time before adulthood. A time Hiro cherished with his brother. But perhaps this feeling of enchantment would cease upon reading this, but then Hiro remembered his brother had always meant him to pursue wisdom as well as knowledge, so maybe separating truth from mythology would earn the younger the wisdom the elder brother could not provide him. So Hiro began at the very first page, to dig deep into whom and how and what and when.
Please feel free to comment, follow and favorite me and/or my work. The next chapter maybe up during the next week, your input keeps me motivated. I would like to personally thank Phinbellafan2298 for beta reading for my story. Check out her work too. The story is about half way through and I now know where this storyline is going and will be 14 chapters long.