Note: I do not own Big Hero 6, or any of its characters. A girl can dream, but this ain't gonna happen anytime soon.

Chapter 1-The Shrine

In their world, peace was a gift. A gift that was believed to be one of good behavior. They were blessed with simplicity for a period of time: that was how they saw it. Well, most of them. There were some who didn't really care about the Masks(1), who defied them. Who never prayed at the shrines. Who dared to look them in the eye. Many of those people are not alive.

Hiro Hamada saw himself in the grey area of this defined line. He was neither a dedicated worshipper of the mortal gods or a rebel to them. In his own eyes, Hiro was a through the motions of life as he was expected to. He was not born in the city-state of San Fransokyo, where he was born was a mystery to him as much as anyone else. His parents had long since passed away, and he had taken residence with his Aunt Cass in her home. She was so kind thou m, treating him like the son she had always dreamed of. In return, Hiro worked in the cafe she ran in the town's market.

At this particular moment, Hiro was cleaning the attic, upon Aunt Cass' request. He of course obliged, feeling he has an endless debt to the woman. The roof hung low near his head, even as he l kneeled over the boxes and chests. The boy was either constantly coughing or sneezing from the aged dust being bristled from what they thought was their final resting place. As Hiro shoved boxes from one end of the narrow room to the other, he came across a rather old chest that had a withered away and broken lock. Normally, Hiro would have ignored the aged trunk; he would have simply pushed it aside, and simply kept going. The only exception was that this chest was open.

The lock was not only broken, but it sat shattered on the rotting floor, a hammer not far away. Instead of resting closed on its hinges the chest's top had been once flung open, like the gaping jaws of a hippopotamus. Items varying from picture frames to trinkets sat sticking out randomly in a forced and unorganized fashion. Hiro picked up a fallen picture frame and smiled softly. The chest was from his birth-nation. The remnants of his family sat in this old trunk. In the old frame was a picture of Hiro's once complete family. Faded near the top of the photo were the faces of his mother and father. They were smiling, but that was all Hiro could tell from the image. He couldn't bring himself to recall their faces. Like the picture, Hiro's memories of his parents were faded. However, his brother was clear in his mind.

Tadashi, Hiro's older brother, died as a Blessed. A Blessed is someone, most often a youth, who is being considered to be that year's Áldozat, (2) who is a chosen servant of the Masks, hand picked from children of every Nation. Only 5 Áldozats are chosen yearly, and all other Blesseds are sacrificed by the flames of honor off consideration. Tadashi was picked to represent San Fransokyo when Hiro was only 7 when Tadashi was chosen at age 14. Hiro was now 14, himself. Tadashi would have been 21.

In the image, Tadashi's young and smiling face was shown as he held a young Hiro in his arms. He placed the framed photo beside him and continued to observe the contents of the trunk.

There wasn't too many things of interest in the chest: some childhood toys, more pictures, and some books. One book in particular was a translation book that contained several different languages. What truly caught Hiro's attention, however, was the katana that sat at the bottom of the trunk. He had discovered it while rummaging through some other trinkets from his mother and/or father, the glint of the golden collar catching his eye.

The scabbard was made of an aging black leather,scarred in several places from water and mortality. It's handle was a lighter leather, worn from use, but the braid of the handle actually seemed fairly in tact. Unsheathing the blade ended in Hiro looking at his own reflection. The blade itself was finely polished, and most likely never used. If the handle is worn, then why is the blade a pure stream of silver? Hiro pondered this briefly. Maybe it was only used for ceremonies.

"Hiro?! Are you most done?"

Hiro was snapped out of his thoughts after hearing his Aunt Cass call him, and he quickly repacked everything before finally shutting the trunk's gaping jaw. He then quickly stood (as best he could) and made his way downstairs. "Hang on a second!" He called back.

Below the attic was an average loft filled with memories on the walls and tables. From the little scratch Aunt Cass made on the floor when she tripped on a pair of 8 inch stilettos, to the small memorial shrine for Tadashi, covered in photos and drying tea leaves. Aunt Cass was sitting at the the small oak table with a cell phone in hand. She was always updating her status on some social site. When she finally glanced up upon Hiro's arrival, she flashed a candid smile. "Hey, hun. Did you finish?" She asked.

"Yup. I was just looking through some old stuff." Hiro said, trotting up next to her seat. She gave him a sly look and noted, "Looking isn't exactly finishing. You know that, right?"

Hiro laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, well, I was amusing myself. Things a quite boring in the attic. And dusty."

"Well, what did you manage to find? Buried treasure?"

"Hah. Close. I found a trunk of mom and dad's old stuff from where I was born. There was some cool stuff actually. A sword, even." Hiro said, finally taking a seat.

"Oh, your mother's katana?" Aunt Cass asked, putting her phone down. "She always had it with her... But never dared to use it. She was such a pacifist, you know. Totally against fighting."

"Then why did she carry around a katana? That doesn't sound very pacifistic," Hiro said, more curious than confused.

"She was afraid of being killed," Aunt Cass answered solemnly before standing up quickly and picking up her purse. "Now come on, we've got to go to The Shrine today. Both of us have been putting it off for too long and it's already friday."

Hiro nodded and stood up to follow his aunt out the door silently. However, his mind was racing so fast he couldn't keep up with himself. He had never realized how little he really knew about his family. For instance, why did his mother fear being killed? Did both of his parents carry swords like that one? Where did they all come from? All Hiro could do was wonder, and hope he had the guts to ask Aunt Cass.

The Shrine was said to be the most pure place in every nation. The building itself was small and plain, no real bold color that allows it to stand out. Inside, however, was very extravagant. Inside was a beautiful terrarium, with several different variations of bushes and lily flowers. In the center of the terrarium was The Shrine, simple and elegant. Surrounded by shapely stones, a small oak table sat alone with some scrolls with writings from The Masks original scriptures, and a bowl of lit incense. Only one person is allowed to enter The Shrine at a time, so Aunt Cass allowed Hiro to go in first.

Normally, Hiro would just go through the motions: send a prayer to The Masks asking for guidance to purity, and move on. But this time, he actually had something to ask for. Hiro knelt down in front of the oak table and put his hands together. "I usually don't ask for anything," he started, staring at the nearly ancient scrolls, "So, when I do finally ask for something, you'll listen, right?"

A dry laugh escaped Hiro as he continued to struggle for words.

"Alright... I just want to know, I guess. I want to understand, too. My past, my family, myself... Just everything in this world. I feel like I've been caged for the longest time! I just. I don't know. I don't know, and that's my problem. When I found my mother's katana... I just had a realization, I guess. About how little I know... So, can you help me?"

Hiro sat in silence, listening for the intangible response. According to the Cloaks, who care for The Shrine and lead followers in their belief, his request was in the hands of The Masks, and Hiro could not ask again until he is either granted or denied. But how do I know? Hiro asked himself. He had never asked for anything before; he never had a reason to. He was naive, he finally came to see clearly. Trapped in a cage of simplicity, of not caring. Hiro wanted to break free, and knowledge was the key.

After another few minutes, Hiro stood up, and walked out of the terrarium.

Aaaaand that's the first chapter! I really hope everyone enjoyed my lack of writing skill. I hope to do better as I plan to take AP English (which is like college in high school) to make things a lot better! Now for those notes!

(1)- so basically The Masks are mortal Gods, chosen by birthright and each have their own name based on what they specialize in. For example, on is be Prosperity, Hope, Glory, etc. But there are not so nice guys like Chaos, Greed, Selfishness, and so on. They each wear an oriental mask to hide their face, for they wish to hide their mortal identity and be seen as their immortal representations. However, if any Mask sees something unjust or declares someone to be disturbing the peace, they may kill such person. If this is unclear, I promise to explain more in later chapters!

(2)-I'm not going to say much about the literal meaning of Áldozat, but I will say it is a Hungarian term, and its translation will come into play later. You can look it up If you want, but I don't recommend it if you want the full suspense of the story. Anyway, the Áldozat is exactly as I described; honored servants of The Masks. They are chosen from a group of Blesseds, ranging from ages 13-19.

Thanks for reading! Like and review please please please! Bye for now! '3'