Notes:
"There are no answers, only choices." - Stanisław Lem
FIRST OFF: Big thank you to Treehugeer! You're my first ever reviewer on this platform and I appreciate that immensely!
And guys, big update info: I'm gonna take a small hiatus to catch up on everyday life stuff. I just want to give y'all a heads up! Y'all have been nothing but positive and I appreciate that so, so much. All of your feedback motivates me to the nth power.
I'll be back on May 30, promise! Again, thank you guys so, so much for the support. Feel free to ask any questions in the comments. For now, here's a transition chapter titled, "Changes." Y'all are amazing. Thank you!
Oh, and HEY, HAPPY HOLIDAYS. Have a safe Passover, Ramadan, and Easter! :D
Tadashi was unnerved by the silence. Half-eaten plates of slightly burned pancakes still lined the counter as he watched Cass drive off with Hiro in the passenger's seat. He was back in his childhood home and alone.
The sun was barely rising outside. Clouds made the city look lifeless despite pedestrians walking by. It was still 8 in the morning. The hollow gray room he was standing in didn't match his memories of the cafe.
Granted, Tadashi's brain was still somewhat fried. The cafe was always loud and full of life. Seeing it with the lights partially switched off and devoid wasn't exactly the picturesque place he hoped to return to.
A few things lingered, though. He recalled building Baymax and the restless nights he spent overthinking his prototype. The chipped tile by the fridge still wasn't fixed and Cass' floral calendars still hung by the entryway. Mochi managed to stay put too.
Hiro's 7th birthday, Cass dragging him by the ear outside the police station, and other slightly traumatizing events were fuzzy. The months after the accident were nearly nonexistent. The past was a series of puzzle pieces, which, was just wonderful considering everything.
He picked up the half-eaten plates and took them to the sink. If he was going to be home all day, he might as well be useful. Now, he could elaborate on his explanation.
I didn't come home because... I have fire powers? No. Maybe, I didn't know who I was for about a year. No. No, that was worse.
The sharp clatter of ceramic and styrofoam falling onto the counter fractured the silence. The dishes slipped out of his hands involuntarily. Baymax's cryogenic treatment made him stiff.
Just fantastic, he thought. Tadashi couldn't move on his own without tensing up. Another symptom to add to the list of things pyrokinesis prevented him from doing.
Ugh, and the self-deprecating comments weren't helping either. Come on, he could do better than this.
Cryogenic therapy was supposed to heal torn muscles. That may be why he had spasms so frequently. But was it supposed to freeze him up that badly? His whole approach wasn't working. Maybe a different angle would... well, that didn't sound right. What angle was he supposed to take? His old mantras were to help his baby brother, not necessarily himself. Somehow his words felt like fresh wounds now.
Tadashi raised his arms, testing out his mobility before deciding to pick up anything breakable. The ache he associated with bursting into flames faded. He was flame-free, temporarily.
A good thing, really. He could work with that.
He picked up the plates one-by-one. Pancake crumbs and syrup had smeared across the marble. Tadashi sighed as he mentally added the mess to his to-do list.
Maybe some background noise would help ease his nerves.
The TV remote always sat inside the far-left drawer. Maybe. Probably. Every cupboard slowly found its way open. Tadashi didn't recognize any of it. But, that's where the remote always went? At least, from what he remembered. He scoured the room until he saw it velcroed to the fridge. Odds were it was Cass' doing. Good. The cafe was a little different, sure. But, at least he wasn't fully gone.
The local news flicked on. A lady in a dark red blazer read headlines off a teleprompter. Tadashi didn't listen. Instead, the sound of running water dragged him deeper into his thoughts.
Was he really doing this? He swore never to return home. Never. Not until he was ready. Or, possibly ready?
'Possibly' turned into 'never' after Tadashi realized he wasn't going to gain control of his abilities anytime soon. And he vaguely understood that; he wasn't going to decide when his return was.
Still, the uneasy feeling inside him continued to build up. Everything still felt off. Like, coming back was wrong somehow.
Syrup accidentally stamped onto his hand. Ugh, not a big deal. Workable.
It was still his first day back. He was subject to trial and error. Yet lab tests and academics were different. This was real life. Consequences threatened to destroy the very things he aimed to protect. All of the stress of half-raising Hiro and helping Cass wasn't for nothing, right? It couldn't be.
They were doing just fine. Tadashi's family was healthy. His entire livelihood was on the verge of falling apart. And, breakfast was okay. He was just, just -
Breathe. Just breathe.
Pieces of pancakes from Cass' plate fell into the sink. The bread turned to mush as it soaked up the hot water. Tadashi sighed again.
The TV carried on with the morning news.
"...as San Fransokyo's vigilante team of superheroes, known as Big Hero 6, stopped the takeover days before the event occurred." Tadashi glanced up at the TV set. "SFPD reported a surge in supervillains over the past several years beginning in May..." The suits from last night flashed on-screen. Tadashi flipped the faucet off as he left the plates to dry.
He opened the garage door as the TV blared throughout the empty house.
"...rise in vigilantism over the past four years…."
Hiro was gambling in a new field far outside of his skillset. This wasn't bot fighting. The fact his little brother was a good kid made the situation all the more frustrating.
"...as these characters risk life and limb…." He picked up the scratched purple helmet hidden behind the couch. Tadashi couldn't be sure that heroism was a better alternative than bot fighting.
Chances were it wasn't. If anything, it was more dangerous.
"Authorities are unsure when the crime rate will return to normal…" He hated the lack of control. No more danger. No more making bad decisions.
Tadashi rubbed the lower half of his face. The TV only added to his spiraling thoughts.
"What is he thinking?" he whispered to himself. This had to stop somewhere. Tadashi disappeared and… came back home to a superhero team? No. How...? No, that wasn't a smart move. How did his brother even get to that conclusion?
Hiro was impulsive. Tadashi was used to saving him from trouble from time to time, but this? This? Superheroes were even more reckless. His little brother couldn't risk his life. Sacrificing himself wasn't… just not Hiro, okay? Maybe himself but not Hiro.
Tadashi only ran in for… the greater good? He groaned. They couldn't change the past. That much was true. The anger and the frustration continued to build against his will.
But as soon as Hiro walked through the front door, Tadashi was going to grill him into acting like a responsible adult. His baby brother was dead meat.
Yet the quiet mood surrounding him didn't agree. The freezer hummed, and the television set was barely audible. The lady guiding the morning news along didn't acknowledge his frustration.
The cafe wasn't the same. Neither were any of them. Not even Baymax remained stasis. His project was practically another family member. Tadashi tossed the helmet onto the couch and went back towards the kitchen.
There… there really was no use brewing in anger, was there? Too many emotions were running through his mind at once.
Okay, questions came first. Getting upset before they had a chance to explain things wasn't going to help anyone.
He'd start from the beginning. He would tell them the truth, answer their immediate questions, and then detail his life with whatever memories he had left. That would work, right? Whatever tearjerkers came their way, he would keep a level head and try to remain calm. He would roleplay as the cool, confident, collected one in the family. Panicking was no longer an option.
But hyping himself up so early in the morning wasn't a good call. Tadashi shifted gears by wandering around the house, noting the chores to do.
Table 7 was notorious for having a sticky floor. Apparently not anymore. They fixed that while he was gone. No mess left to clean up there.
But, at least the couch was still a makeshift bedroom. He could be useful there. The furniture was still covered in blankets and comforters. Plus, he could finish putting up dishes in the kitchen. Just keep busy until everyone gets back home.
The chores weren't going to last. Tadashi still had several hours to come up with a proper explanation.
The TV continued to fill the cafe with noise, "...also responsible for the safer city regulations sponsored by Krei Industries."
Tadashi stopped; he turned to see what they were trying to prove. The headline, "Are Vigilantes Welcome?" ran across the bottom of the screen. He frowned as two people smiled their way through the broadcast. Tadashi turned away before the headline flashed to the next segment, "Heroes Prove Their Position Alongside Civilians."
Being a superhero wasn't something he ever pictured on his little brother's agenda, let alone his own. What do you even do with-? Agh, that wasn't important. His family, he needed to think about his family. Plus, whatever else came with his return.
"...as their identities remain unknown."
Did Cass know? Her concerns about Hiro seemed like an indicator she didn't. The truth was he didn't know.
Tadashi was essentially a walking science experiment. Anything was possible. Maybe Hiro really was doing fine. The encouraging phrases he worked to embed in his brother's brain were now fragments of his hopes for the future.
He tucked the leftover plates and cutlery away. None of this felt right. Tadashi moved on. He already accepted the fact that he wasn't the same person. It was almost disturbing how much he tried to assimilate back into old habits.
He looked down at his scars. If he was in Hiro's shoes, would he do the same? Would he have become some sort of makeshift hero if…? No, that wasn't a good idea to dwell on, either.
Regardless of what Tadashi thought, Hiro was a superhero. He cut out a name for himself in a year and a half. And his big brother had no real authority to correct him. He wasn't there. Hiro made his decision a long time ago, and now he needed to deal.
The conversation awaiting was growing into a monstrosity by the second. Tadashi headed upstairs. The folded comforters from last night joined him on the trek to his old bedroom.
The same old photos and posters lined the walls. Tadashi almost cringed as he looked at all the geeky things they had hung. He smirked at the new additions to the bulletin board by the doorway. Photos of his old friends decorated the corkboard along with posters from school. They nearly matched the rest of… the Big Hero 6 team.
A hollow feeling rooted in his gut, and it wasn't because of pyro. Hiro successfully convinced the SFIT gang to be heroes. That or Fred.
Tadashi slumped onto his old mattress. None of this made sense.
The changes the house underwent swirled around him. Maybe he could have done this whole surviving thing differently. The future was daunting to him now. 10-year-old, 13, 16, 17, and even 21-year-old him always planned ahead.
Yet as he stood in his house that was no longer his, doubts began to cloud his judgment. Theories and hypotheticals weren't going to cut it. There were too many variables until Hiro and Cass answered his questions, and he answered theirs.
He sank to the floor. The boxes of his old things towered over him.
Tadashi started unpacking. He didn't consider whether he should. Just something to fill the time. He organized his possessions across the floor as the boxes slowly transformed into piles of folded cardboard.
Comic books, magazines, engineering notebooks, and old clothes draped his side of the room. He was stupid to run from himself. He was naīve to think he could learn to contain his abilities before stepping foot in his own room.
But did he regret it? In terms of helping people, absolutely not. In terms of ruining his life indefinitely, of course, yes.
A gross wave of remorse washed over him. If he hadn't run into that building, if he hadn't been so careless, maybe they all stood a chance at having normal lives. That was something Tadashi wanted for himself as the ache in his side slowly returned.
Baymax would say having a support system was a good plan if his intensive medical programming taught him anything. Being alone wasn't a choice anymore. He would give it his all if it meant he needed to make more sacrifices.
Tadashi was here to stay.
Aches began to flood back. He pushed the pain in his side down; he wasn't supposed to leave the house. Not so soon.
The giant, robotics clock was ticking away, 10:30AM. It was still Day 8.
He never went that long without letting the flames surround him. Tadashi was able to get over the mental hurdle of having pyrokinesis during his first year by himself, sure. At least, that's what he constantly repeated in his head. Breaking the news to his family though, was exponentially- no, infinitely harder.
Tadashi continued to put his things away. Old shirts and dated textbooks found their way back to their places while junk he no longer cared for made it to the donation pile. He somehow managed to bury his room with his stuff again. He even wandered the house, cleaned, and ate whatever leftovers were unmarked in the fridge. He nearly forgot how much it hurt to avoid losing control.
Tadashi broke into a cold sweat as he suppressed his need to let go of the pain building inside of him. Half-hearted screams of agony began to echo throughout the house.
No one was home yet. No one would be home yet.
The pressure was rising internally. In minutes, he was lying flat on the ground, clutching his side as he tried not to yell.
Get out of the attic. Not here, not now. He needed to wander downstairs somehow. He could feel his eyes glowing orange. Another symptom, he thought. But, that was the least of his worries.
He bumped into the photo frames hanging against the wall on his way downstairs. The casings now hung crooked along the stairwell. Slowly, he navigated towards the cafe with blurred vision. The fridge door swung open, the icebox offering some relief.
He grabbed several ice packs, only for fire to burst from his hands. Tadashi yelled in surprise as flames warped around his arm, singeing his SF Ninja shirt. He was losing his grip. Plus, he was endangering the integrity of the entire house, including the cafe. It was exactly what he wanted to avoid.
Tadashi made his way over to the garage. This was why he stayed away. This… complaining wasn't going to help.
He slid the garage gate open before laying flat on the cement. Sweat drenched his clothes as spasms racked his body. A flare shot out from his hands involuntarily. He had two options: Pull it together until the evening or leave for the warehouses to avoid burning the house down. None of which were good choices.
Fire slowly surrounded his whole torso as he struggled to push his reflexes down. The pain built up until Tadashi couldn't take it anymore.
He finally let go.
His SF Ninja shirt was officially ruined. The flames were no longer restrained. Burned holes and charred edges now colored his shirt. Plus, his black jeans were browning from prolonged exposure. He groaned in defeat.
This was normal. This was his life.
And what was all the struggling for, huh? He wanted to be Hiro's big brother again just as much as he wanted to be a good nephew. He used to be put-together and had a purpose... and now? What was this all for?
He took every opportunity to let loose when he was definitive no one was around. Now there were neighbors, cats, cameras, drones, and potential customers surrounding him. He couldn't guarantee their safety.
If anything, he was annoyed by it. The lack of control ate at him from the inside. Tadashi wanted his body back, his old life back.
And, there wasn't much he could do to fix it.
So, he stayed flat on the concrete. He could only stare at the garage ceiling as orange blurred his vision. He wished that letting the flames surround him was enough. Burning on the floor for a while simply wasn't enough. More energy needed to be released. Tadashi stayed down, letting the fire shroud him until the ache slowly began to fade.
The TV was still blaring from the sitting area. And the chores, and the pain, and the conversation that wasn't even a conversation that morning. Tadashi ran his hands through his hair.
This wasn't cutting it. Staying put didn't help anyone.
Tadashi couldn't give up, not yet. Something had to change. The fire died down just enough for him to hide it. The ache still endured, a sign the outburst wasn't enough.
He finally stood up, woozy and off-balance, as he went to grab cash and his old sweatshirt. Releasing tension was necessary. No amount of cold packs was going to prevent another outburst today.
He'd be quick.
Cass wasn't going to be home until later. And Hiro, well, school was at least 4 hours long on his half days. He imagined his brother rushing through class just to get home.
Tadashi threw whatever remained of his shirt in the garbage. He donned his charred sweater and glanced at his old Vespa. He grimaced as he noticed the giant dent in the front, confident that wasn't his doing. The pain was already beginning to build up. Driving was just another risk.
Besides, he wouldn't be gone for long. Tadashi left the house on foot as faces he didn't recognize moved past him. Roaming the city wasn't this nerve-racking before.
He flipped his hoodie on as he walked towards the outer city. Sato's Garage was always his best option. He would be home before anyone came back.
Tadashi would only be gone for a second.
Notes:
[*places DOUBT meme here*]
BRO. MY BOY, DASHI. I JUST, WE'RE GONNA TALK ABOUT IT.
HOWEVER, wow this chapter is text heavy. I have my own personal notes on how this chapter can improve through re-edits/critiques. Still, I love exploring this story. I don't know; there's a half-hearted lesson threaded within this thing. Hopefully, you'll realize it once we're close to the final chapters. I did want some breaks in dialogue and Tadashi being at home by himself isn't exactly the most action-packed/interesting thing in the world. (I mean, aside from the whole fire problem, his 'welcome back,' is pretty mundane. ✨"It's all about that uncertainty of the future!"✨ I type while writing this at midnight.) Yet I did want to get inside of his head for a full chapter. Being by definition, perfect, must be a difficult way of living.
This was a cool, experimental scene. I might not like it quite as much as I would've hoped but I'm glad I wrote it. I do like the slower chapters but I think I'm ready to write some more dialogue and action scenes. Cheers to learning on the job!
Another title for this chapter was, "Tadashi Is Stressed." I think it's fitting. :) I mean, how many well-intentioned, bad decisions can one person make?
See y'all later this summer.