THIS STORY CONTAINS **SPOILERS**

TRIGGER WARNING

This story contains heavy elements such as:

Depression/Self Harm

Suicide

Eating Disorders /Anorexia

Please read at your own caution.

Of Times Past

Chapter 1

Where our days begin.

Tell me, why does the caged bird sing? A bird is captured, a bird is sold, and for what does this bring to the birds life? Why does the bird continue to sit alone on its perch, wings clipped and nails tied, demoralized and forgotten, yet still able to sing the song of its story? Does it strive for change, or is it simply willowing its time away? Allowing the clock to speed by, agonizing tick after tick, until the well runs dry and the life is sucked away. For what could the caged bird sing for? I'll tell you what it sings for, hope. Despite the walls around it, somewhere, nestled so deep no one aside of god could find it, lays hope. It's a small seed, infinitely too small. It is one of which could never grow, yet, its very nature infringes on the laws set around it. Despite no hope left, hope can still…hope. For the being that experiences this antagonizing pull of anguish and life, I pity. To be stuck betwixt the flux of good and evil, to have every thought contradict down to the point of life and death, I wouldn't wish upon anyone, for it could, and shall only lead to madness.

"Tadashi..."

Another tug on the wrist was made.

"I'm so sorry..."

Vine like fluid trundled down the arm of a 14 year old boy, the crimson blood falling out onto the white floor. He sat against the frame of the tub, his small lanky body worn badly and so desperately tired. His midnight nest of hair was thrown off in different directions, oily and unwashed. His clothes were ragged and much too big for his small body, and his face held the aftermath of tears, some from hours ago, some from just a few seconds ago, he had lost count. Even now, small tracks of the salty liquid were softly pattering down the outskirts of his cheeks, small whimpers escaping his lips.

Hiro Hamada held the blade to his wrist, and another cut was made. Tears slipped from his eyes has he watched more crimson ones fall, he couldn't help himself, he was pathetic.

Sure, he was the self-proclaimed "hero" of San-Fransokyo, but what would those people think if they knew their hero was sitting in the bathroom floor, mutilating his body to no end. He curled in deeper to himself, his arms growing weak, and his eyes hazy from exhaustion. He hadn't been eating, he hadn't been sleeping, and his world was being consumed from the deep onslaught of depression.

And it was all because of Tadashi.

Well, mostly. Hiro had a lot of problems, most of which he didn't even knew he had, but Tadashi's passing left a hole in his heart, one too big that nothing in the universe could ever seem to fill. It had been a while since his death. But since then, Hiro had killed a little of himself every night. He used to when he was younger, situations at hand such as bullies, hatred, and fights attributing to that, but Tadashi always made it seem okay, even if he didn't know what Hiro was doing to himself, had been doing to himself for years. Now that he was gone…that small comfort couldn't be held. Tadashi was gone…and with it, Hiro's motivation for…anything.

The Callaghan fiasco was an almost welcomed distraction, until he found the truth behind his brother's death, all of it, was in vein. The hallowing depression towards himself suddenly turned into ravage anger, hatred, boiling and absolute fury, all pointed to the cause of his brother's death, the one which apparently was "his mistake." All of it, pointed on Callaghan, he HAD to pay. Nothing mattered in that moment aside from the rage for revenge bursting inside of Hiro. Looking back, the team would have said that's when Hiro lost himself, throwing away Baymax's chip and allowing him to wreak havoc, he didn't even stop to consider what he was doing, no, and he wanted that man dead. Yet they recovered him, finding him after his abrupt exit, and Hiro had done some realizations himself during that time, but he still held a small dosage of anguish inside, but he could mask it, if only to truly avenge his brother, the proper way. The team thought they gained their Hiro back, that he was no longer lost, but the truth was, he lost himself a long time ago.

He was always hated, always beaten, he was different, the world didn't like different. Yet, Tadashi always made it okay. He could live through the pain of being hated, if only for the love of his brother. When he died, well, Hiro died as well. All he had to live for, his meaning and purpose, all destroyed in the fraction of a burning second.

He was nothing.

Hiro slowly staggered upwards, wincing from the pain on his arms and thighs. Trails of blood still wondered off his skin, and he sighed to himself, he knew he had to clean himself up. He went and turned on the shower, allowing it to heat up as he discarded his clothes. Turning, he walked over to the mirror, analyzing the blood pooling off of him. He frowned, there truly was nothing left for him was there?

Stepping into the shower, he allowed the warmth to cradle him as always. The warm water burying deep into the lines of his skin, burning and stinging the gashes on his wrists and legs but he didn't care for that, the pain reminded him of a lot of things. What he lost, what he gained, what he was, and who he always will be. Worthless. He worked for a few minutes, washing the blood off his body, the bottom of the shower turning a light shade of red, before stepping out, a dull haze a wash over him. It was like this most days, just simply going through the motions, only allowing him to gain consciousness during his bouts of self-harm, until he was lost amongst the world once again. He kneeled to the floor after dressing, ripping a few rolls of toilet paper off as he wiped up his blood, easier to dispose he mused of as he watched the crimson tissue flush down the toilet.

After that, his morning was done. He stepped out into his room, a long sleeve shirt to hide his cuts, as well as a hoodie thrown over for good measure; however, it was late July. No one seemed to question him on it for dressing like that, for Hiro was small, much too small, and he could always brush it off if they asked. No body fat to keep him warm, he'd always say. If only they knew the truth behind the mask.

He reached for his bag on his desk, slinging it over his shoulder as he did.

Time to put on the mask again.

He stepped out, ready to smile at the world as he always did.

"I don't care what you say; he WILL make it through this."

Tadashi was tired, no, completely fed up and furious with the people around him. He stood tall against the doctor in front of him, Aunt Cass off to his right.

"Sweetie-"

"No! Don't you say anything Aunt Cass. I don't care what you all say. Hiro will make it!" Tadashi yelled, his voice was raw, harsh and chipped.

Aunt Cass's eyes widened, Tadashi has never been like this, this…rebellious before? It wasn't the right word, but that was the only thing that came to mind in this situation.

"He's been in a coma for one year Mr. Hamada. Your brother isn't likely to wake up." The doctor said, his name tag showed the last name Henney, his tone was sharp, yet he tried to make it sound as gently as he could. He too was a bit frustrated.

Tadashi just turned, walking over to the hospital bed situated in the center of the room. The doctor as well as Aunt Cass sighed, the former motioning for the door, and soon both were walking out of the room to discuss something. Tadashi sat down at the chair next to the hospital bed frame, taking the smaller hand of his little brother in his own. The sunlight was gently pouring in, a warm yellow and orange hue was awash over the small hospital room, and the sun soon was about to leave for the night.

Hiro lay peacefully on the cotton sheets, his head propped by a pillow, and tubes and similar apparatus were running across, into, and from his body. Tadashi smiled softly, running his thumb along the knuckles of his little brother's hand, and allowing his other hand to gently rub the soft bundle of hair on Hiro's unconscious head.

"You'll make it through bonehead...they'll see."

Hiro slept softly.

My god.

This movie.

My god.

So, I've started a new story. I'M STILL WORKING ON MY OTHER ONES! Don't you worry. But just seeing Big Hero 6 really just...sparked something in me. I'm not sure what. :/ I just feel..that I NEED to write this you know? I will warn, this story will touch on some VERY sensitive subjects. I will go into detail too. This will be a VERY dark fic. I'm not sure where the ending is going, but I have written out a few chapters already.

I think another reason I feel like writing this is because well one, I relate to Hiro on so many levels. I practically am Hiro. ._. I'm a huge science nerd...I'm actually meeting with one of my old High School Professors to work on my Robotics Project. I'm not even in robotics at my college. Why am I doing this? BECAUSE I FREAKING LOVE ROBOTICS. ._...Plus I have an older brother too, and he just so happens to look EXACTLY like Tadashi, he even acts like him sometimes. I think that's why the movie hit me so hard. It made me miss my Nii-san...a lot. :/ ...

I happen to look like Hiro a tad too. Except I'm a lot...and I mean A LOT taller. 6'2! xD I'm taller than my Older Brother actually...and he's almost 7 years older than me. YEAH TALL PEOPLE!

Well that's it here. Ugh..I can't handle this story people. My feels, they hurt. This movie seriously rips your heart out while making you laugh at the same time. IT'S WEIRD. STOP IT DISNEY. I've already seen it twice but I really want to see it again! Ughhhh.

Thanks for reading guys!

As Always,

R&R