I loved Big Hero 6. Like, a lot. Disney owns it.
I hope you enjoy it and leave a review? (Aunt Cass is a hard character for me to pin down...)
"Who's this?"
Tadashi looked down at the floor from his homework on the table. Aunt Cass always said studying for tests made him high-strung and irritable. He never believed it.
"Hiro! Put that down." Tadashi snatched the picture frame from the six-year-old's hands and blinked at it. How could he not remember?
The next time he looked at Hiro, tears were brimming in his eyes. Tadashi sighed at showed Hiro the picture, but didn't let him touch it. "That's you and me." He pointed to the two children in the picture.
Hiro was only one in the picture. He pointed a pudgy finger at himself. "That's me?"
"That's you. And that's Mom and Dad." And how could he not remember? He thought better than to mention it.
"Oh."
Tadashi put the picture back on his desk and stared at it. Hiro had only been three when they died. But he'd been brilliantly cognizant of the world even then. But maybe it just wasn't enough. He blinked the tears away and stared at the picture. Tadashi still missed them but maybe just because he'd known them longer.
Hiro rested his chin on the desk. "I remember them," he said quietly, looking up at his brother.
Tadashi smiled at him a little. "It's okay if you don't. You were little."
"Okay." Hiro stared at the picture. "But I kind of do. I just don't remember what they look like," he added again, more emphatically this time. He looked up again, his huge eyes begging for approval.
"Okay. Can you go downstairs with Aunt Cass? I need to study."
"I need to study, too." Hiro stepped back and nearly fell over a small stack of math books ranging from third- to fifth-grade material. Hiro hadn't decided if it was "too easy" for him yet or not.
Tadashi was sometimes jealous. Hiro was even more prodigious than he was. But not right now. Hiro didn't even remember them.
"Please?" Tadashi asked.
Hiro sniffed and looked down at the books. "I want a snack," he said, and went to the stairs.
Tadashi looked back at his papers after he left. His eyes were a little blurry so he couldn't even make out his block-letter writing. Eights looked like nines and fives looked like sixes. He wiped the tears from his eyes and tried to concentrate, but they just came back again.
Why didn't Hiro remember them? Did that mean that Tadashi would forget them eventually, too?
He pulled the picture frame closer and stared at it. He remembered shortly after they died. Everyone kept telling him that they weren't really gone, so long as he remembered them. But… Hiro forgot. Tadashi stared hard at the picture. Dad smiled at him. Mom watched Hiro reach for something the photographer was holding. Tadashi didn't remember the photographer or anything about the day.
But he remembered Mom and Dad.
"I'm trying," he told them.
"Hey, brainiac!"
Tadashi slammed the picture frame back down and spun the chair around as Aunt Cass came up the stairs.
"Hiro was hungry, so I thought—hey." Aunt Cass stopped at the top of the stairs and looked at him. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I mean, not really." He looked down at the floor and blinked twice. Tears were gone. He looked back at her and smiled a little. "Thanks for the snack."
"Thinking is hungry work." Aunt Cass crossed the room and sat down on Tadashi's bed next to his desk. She slid a plate of grapes and a doughnut on his desk. She looked at Hiro's unmade littler bed next to the window a few feet away. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Tadashi spun the chair back and nodded. "Yeah. I just… Aunt Cass?"
"Yes?"
"You remember Mom and Dad, right?" Tadashi asked. He looked at the picture for a moment before looking back at her.
She smiled like it was somehow funny. "Of course I do. How could I forget them?"
"Hiro doesn't."
"Oh." Aunt Cass looked at the stairs. "Hiro was young, honey. You remember things more as you get older."
"You don't think I'll ever forget, do you?"
"No." She didn't even hesitate.
That made him feel better. But Hiro remembered almost everything and if he couldn't use that big brain of his to remember something so important as Mom and Dad…
"But what if I do?" Stupid tears. Back again. He blinked.
"Tadashi." Aunt Cass pulled him off the chair to sit next to her.
"I'm sorry," he said, rubbing the tears off on his sleeve and staring at the floor.
She wrapped her arms around him and shook her head. "No, it's okay. It's okay to cry." She sighed. "They taught you lots of things, Tadashi. You won't forget them. Hiro might not ever remember then like you do, but you know what?"
He looked up at her.
"You can teach Hiro things like they taught you. Hiro doesn't have to remember them to know what they were like. Because, Tadashi? You are like your dad." She smiled fondly and tousled his hair. Tadashi thought he saw tears in her eyes, too. "You're a lot like him."
Tadashi smiled.
"He always wanted to save the world." She sighed and stood up. She brushed off her shirt. "And he will," she said, spinning around and smiling at him.
Tadashi frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Because you will, kiddo. You're going to help a lot of people." She picked a drawing off a cork board of drawings. Tadashi had drawn them all, but even he wasn't sure what all was there. She handed him a drawing of a robot bandaging a skinned knee. "You're going to help a lot of people."