Hiro has lost everything. He didn't even know his parents before they were gone. And now Tadashi is gone, too. His only brother, and the only real friend he had. He doesn't understand; why do bad things happen to good people?
He can't bring himself to cry at the funeral, so he just stands there and ignores everyone who tries to talk to him. Everyone keeps saying they're sorry and he knows they're just being polite and kind but it's pointless, really, because sorry won't bring Tadashi back. Sorry doesn't change anything.
His four new friends watch him helplessly, wanting to help but unable to reach out. Honey's eyes sparkle with tears as she goes to hug him, and when he pushes out of her arms, the tears begin to fall onto her cheeks.
He sits himself on the stairs in the darkness with his head between his knees and listens to the sounds of soft conversation and tea being stirred. And when he's too weary to even sit up anymore, he drags himself up to their — no, now it's just his — room and falls onto his bed. He stares heavy-lidded at the ceiling and then rolls over on his side. He sees Tadashi's hat (Aunt Cass must have brought it up because Hiro couldn't touch it) sitting on his bed in the corner, that stupid hat that he loved so much, and then Hiro's curling up on himself with his arms wrapped around his knees and he's sobbing. He's never cried so hard in his life, even when he broke his arm skateboarding a few years ago, or when he sprained his ankle when he was on the cross country team.
Nothing has ever hurt as much as it did now.
Her usual bright wardrobe — mostly yellow, her favorite color and reason behind her nickname — is replaced by a somber black dress and shoes. Her clothes reflect her emotion, she realizes, as she stands before the mirror hung on her bedroom wall. She carefully twists her hair into an up-do, held in place by many pins, and fits the black studs through the piercings in her earlobes. She pictures herself wearing this outfit on any other occasion and can practically see Gogo popping a gum bubble and deadpanning, "It looks like you're going to a funeral."
But this time she actually is.
She starts crying as soon as she sees Hiro because he reminds her so much of Tadashi, and she knows he must feel so lost that his only brother is gone. She doesn't want him to hurt anymore than he already has, but deep down she knows nothing she says will make it okay. She can't pretend to be strong when she's breaking apart inside; the optimism that usually takes over her seems to have been sucked out of her. She can't be strong this time.
Honey looks through tear-blurred eyes at the headstone with Tadashi's name carved into it and this is not how it's supposed to be. This is not how Tadashi is supposed to be left, just a cold, still stone among thousands of others in the cemetery. Because he was such a warm, caring, lively person and this is what he's been reduced to.
She cries harder.
Wasabi cries silent tears. There's no shaking shoulders and loud sobs; just tears that slowly fall from his eyes.
The funeral is dismal. Hiro won't talk to anyone, Aunt Cass looks like a wreck, and all his friends look helpless. He supposes he looks that way as well, and it hurts that he can't make everything the way it was. It was all so perfectly clean when Tadashi was alive, because they all knew what they were doing and how things were. Now everything has changed. He's supposed to keep everything organized, but his friends are drifting away and his entire life seems like a mess.
School starts up again, and they all drag themselves to the lab knowing nothing will be the same. Tadashi isn't there to give helpful tips and entertaining commentary. Every time he goes to ask Tadashi something, there's a moment of confusion and then hurt when he realizes.
Tadashi's workspace is untouched, just how he left it the last time he was in there. It's messy, like it always is, and Wasabi remembers how he used to nag Tadashi about cleaning up, but he never did, and eventually he'd go and organize everything for him.
He almost starts to straighten things up before stopping himself. Tadashi is no longer here, and if he fixes things they'll never go back to being the way they were.
This is the last thing of Tadashi's that they have.
Everything is too quiet. Usually he'd be telling a joke to Honey, and she'd laugh because she laughs at all his jokes, but he hasn't smiled in days and it seems like he's never going to be able to laugh again. Things are dim and dark for a while as they all struggle to accept what's happened. He sees Honey several times, and Gogo and Wasabi a few too, but he doesn't see Hiro for a long time. They come by the cafe and Aunt Cass always tells them he's not ready yet; that he just sits in his room and stares at pictures of Tadashi he's gathered from around the house.
It reminds Fred of himself, how he'd find himself in the hallway in front of his father's portrait, and he'd stare up at his dad's face and just talk to him.
(He vaguely remembers the day he met Tadashi and how he told his dad's painting all about it; how there was a really smart boy he'd seen on campus during a basketball game, who had said his mascot suit was cool.)
A few weeks after the funeral, he goes and stands in front of the painting and tilts his head up.
"Hey, dad. So, I guess I never told you what happened. Tadashi died; there was a fire, and he went to save Professor Callighan, and — the whole building blew up." Tears sting his eyes as he continues to talk. "Neither of them survived. They didn't even have a body to bury at the funeral." Fred swallows a large lump forming in his throat. "This whole thing reminds me of when you left. I felt like I would never see you again, and then when you came back I realized how ridiculous I was being. But this time it's real. Tadashi's not coming back."
He drops his head and lets the tears fall.
So many things remind Gogo of Tadashi. She sees him in everything.
Being at the lab is unbearable; Tadashi was always hovering around her and poking at her inventions, and she'd slap at his hands when he touched something he wasn't supposed to. He'd laugh when she got annoyed with him and press a kiss to her cheek, which he thought would somehow make everything better. (Sometimes it did.)
She can't drink tea because she remembers how he used to take her to the teahouse every Saturday evening. When she sees people on motorcycles and scooters on the streets she thinks of Tadashi and his old beat-up blue Moped and all the times that she'd be clinging to him while they zipped through the dark streets on cold nights. When she passes the flower shop she thinks of all the times Tadashi showed up with a bouquet in his hand, smiling like a dork over the top of it at her; she thinks of just a couple weeks ago, when she was placing a single red rose at the base of his gravestone as she bit back a sob.
Eventually she resolves to stay in bed and try to sleep everything away, because if she doesn't do anything or see anything or say anything then nothing can remind her of Tadashi. And then she'll be okay.
(But she knows she'll never be okay again.)