Chapter 4, everybody! In which we catch up with the boys and see what they were up to….

The cockroach egg on the envelope was one of those urban legends I heard as a kid that stuck with me. This chapter also has a nice fat reference to Volume 1 of the Ultimate Spider-Man graphic novels—had it handy when I wrote this up.

And this chapter—this was the chapter I was talking about on Tumblr when I said I wrote the scene with cathode computers in mind—very sobering to realize my gaming computer would be on the low end of standard computers in San Fransokyo.

Also—was writing with my local weather in mind, looked up San Francisco weather on a whim—what do you mean y'all have 70-degree weather year-round?

In other news, this chapter was brought to you by the local library. Go find one and get you some. :D

Big Hero 6 © Disney

It didn't.

He didn't know if it was some sort of rule or something Obake did, but they got out of there unaccosted—and with the tourney's winnings, as it turned out. Hiro was hustling away from there as fast as he could, Megabot and his controller at the bottom of the tote bag, currently with more money than Hiro had ever seen before in his life piled on top.

"That was incredible!" Hiro blurted finally, still hugging the tote bag to his chest as he sped away, Obake easily keeping pace with his longer stride and looking like he was hurting his face from grinning so much. "That was amazing—I. Never. Got this much money from bot-fighting before. That was—wait," he said, skidding to a halt, good mood crashing down as he spun to Obake, gesturing at the tote bag. "I can't take this home! I can't explain it to Aunt Cass—she'll know I'd been bot-fighting—she'll kill me!"

Obake considered this, nodded once, grabbed the hand that Hiro had freed up to gesture and tugged him along. Hiro was still hesitant, but a little more willing to follow the other kid than he had been this morning. Even if it had almost resulted in a messy end and a day that he was feeling guilty for enjoying.

The sun was low and the shadows were long as Obake led him to a corner store, stopped him, pointed at the bag—Hiro held it out from him a little, watched as Obake sorted out a few smaller bills before disappearing into the store. Stand there, still clutching the bag, not sure what to do as he scanned the area…worried that he'd be jumped, or arrested—kids didn't just have tote bags full of money!

Yelp in surprise at the tap on his shoulder—spin to see Obake standing there, eyebrow up, bag in his hand.

"Y-you scared me," Hiro wheezed, by way of explanation. Obake shrugged, held out his hand—Hiro blinked at it a moment before accepting it, following him back through the streets to more familiar locales, standing at an intersection and looking around before striking off in a different direction.

"Home is the other way," Hiro pointed out.

Obake shook his head, tugged a little—Hiro sped up, following him…blinked in surprise when he realized they were going to the little neighborhood library.

"Oh…kay," Hiro noised slowly as they went up the little flight of steps. "I don't have my library card with me."

Obake waved him off, opened the door, dragged him in.

A few moments later, they were sitting at the bank of antiquated computers lining the far wall of the library, blocked from view from the door by a turning and a few half-walls. Hiro had pulled a chair over to sit next to Obake, still clutching the tote bag to his chest as he watched the other kid pull up a word file and start typing.

Dear Ms. Hamada appeared on the screen—Obake looked at him, expression questioning.

Hiro blinked a few times before what Obake was wanting sunk in. "Um, yeah, that's…right, if you're talking about Aunt Cass…what are you doing?"

Small smile, back to typing—Hiro watched as the words appeared, occasionally disappearing as a typo cropped up before surging on ahead.

Dear Ms. Hamada:

We firstly wish to extend our condolences, even though we know that's not nearly enough.

Tadashi was a model student and a pillar of the community, and while we feel his absence most acutely, we know that is nothing compared to what you are going through. We have taken up a collection to assist you through this time.

We have decided to remain anonymous due to personal reasons, and hope you will honor our request in this area. We hope to be able to provide more assistance soon as more donations come in.

You are in our thoughts. Best wishes.

Obake leaned back in his seat, hand to his mouth as he considered what he had written, went back and changed the structure of one or two sentences, added a few words to another sentence or two, polishing it until it read professionally; sat back to look at Hiro, little smile quirked onto his face.

Hiro, meanwhile, was scowling.

"What is this?" he demanded, pointing at the screen. "You can't—we can't—you can't just lie to Aunt Cass like that!"

Obake tipped his head at Hiro, looked at the screen, tapped enter a few times before writing something else, tilted the screen at Hiro so he could read the new line.

What part of it isn't true?

Hiro opened his mouth to argue—considered the letter again. We have decided to remain anonymous due to personal reasons—not exactly a lie, Hiro didn't want Aunt Cass to know the money was from him, definitely didn't want her to know about the bot-fighting. You are in our thoughts—all the time. Wish to extend our condolences…true….

"We didn't take up a collection," Hiro pointed out.

Obake typed a new line: it was money collected together that we took. Next objection.

Hiro scowled, pointed at the screen again. "And what's this about more donations?"

A new line: That's over a thousand dollars in that bag, it's not all going to fit in one envelope.

Hiro wheezed at the estimate—a thousand—over a thousand dollars? Definitely more money than he had ever seen in one place before, even on a busy day at the café.

Hiro still couldn't help but fidget. "That's…still a lot of money. I—I don't know—I'm not sure how Aunt Cass will react, even getting it as a donation."

Obake tapped his face, considering, expression subtly smug. Type another line.

Give half to SFIT?

Hiro blinked at that suggestion—donate to the nerd school? Sure it needed repairs due to the fire damage, but….

"Let me guess: after you get your cut," Hiro said to him.

Obake twitched a shoulder, wrote a new line: You won it, it's your money.

"I won it because you dragged me there!" Hiro protested—duck in closer and lower his voice when he realized he was getting a little loud. "Why was it so important we go anyway? That one guy—girl, whatever—who were they?"

Obake twitched a shoulder, not offering any more than that.

"Don't give me that—I know it was personal."

Obake tipped his head to regard Hiro evenly, expression not giving anything away.

Hiro returned the look with a glare. "Are you done insulting me, or are you going to realize I'm smarter than you give me credit for?"

Obake's eye flicked across Hiro's face, considering…finally typed another line.

Yosei Raibaru. Old rival. All I'm going to say on the matter.

Hiro arched an eyebrow; it felt like there was more to it than that. And his choice of words was questionable too—it wasn't like he was 'saying' anything. Matter of fact, Hiro was hard-pressed to say if Obake had said anything after introducing himself yesterday.

And he couldn't shake the feeling that, given the choice, Obake wouldn't be saying anything else either.

Hiro sighed; it was late, he was tired, the adrenaline had burned off and left him exhausted, he didn't have the energy to argue.

"Fine," he said finally, propping his head up. "Let's do it."

Obake smiled, deleted his comments, opened a new word file, copy and pasted the letter, edited it to better suit being sent to SFIT. Set both of those printing, opened up two new word files—Hiro blinked at the odd shape, watched as Obake filled in both, one with just Cass Hamada, the other with SFIT's address, pulled some envelopes out of the grocery bag and left.

Hiro sat there, blinking; rubbed at his eyes, his face with his free hand, other hand still tightly gripping the tote bag, feet kicking absently…the excitement from the bot-fighting had worn off, and now that he was sitting still, his sleepless previous night was catching up with him. What time was it?

Look around for a clock, peer at the corner of the computer screen—felt his stomach flip-flop when the time registered on him.

Obake came hustling back with the letters, sat down to print the two envelopes.

"We have to get back to the café," Hiro told him. "Aunt Cass will be closing it soon." Obake looked at him, went back to one of the letters and typed out a new line.

When?

"Nine o' clock on weekdays," Hiro said.

Obake looked at the time, nodded, went back to the envelopes and printed them out, taking off for the printer again once he had done so. Hiro looked around in the meantime, hoping no one was taking note of two teens acting suspiciously. Someone in a purple fedora was chatting animatedly with a man in a waistcoat, but they were across the library and sunk into their own conversation. Aside from them, the only other people in the library seemed to be one very tired-looking librarian eyeing the clock on the wall behind her. Come to think of it, most of the small businesses in the neighborhood—including the library—closed at nine. They'd have to get moving soon.

Obake came back with the envelopes, sat back down, looked over the envelopes and the letters before deleting the word files, going into the computer's history and wiping out the memory for the session. Set the letters with the corresponding envelopes—

"You printed four," Hiro pointed out, noting the second set of envelopes.

Obake nodded, pointed at the tote bag; Hiro loosened his hold on it, scootched closer as Obake did the same—looked around nervously as Obake started sorting out the money within, first by note denomination, then in four equal piles. Hiro counted along for a bit, felt his insides squirm when his tally reached triple-digits, flick a glance up at the letters—Tadashi jumped out at him.

Maybe that was what was making him uncomfortable, he decided—using Tadashi to justify using the money. There was no denying that Aunt Cass or the school needed the funds, true…but it just felt wrong.

It occurred to him that this wouldn't have bothered him so much a few months ago. But then again, a few months ago everything was going fine—living brother, happy family, a potential future lined up for him. And now….

Tadashi was gone, his absence weighing them down like a wet blanket, the future at SFIT not so clear and bright anymore. Bot-fighting today had been the first time he had felt normal in weeks…was that such a bad thing?

Yes, he told himself. Bot-fighting had gotten him into trouble, had gotten Tadashi into trouble when he came to rescue him, had upset Aunt Cass bad enough to drive her to stress-eating. And if he hadn't been bot-fighting…he wouldn't have had Megabot to give him the idea, Tadashi wouldn't have tried to convince Hiro to go to SFIT so much, maybe….

He wouldn't have made the microbots that had impressed Dr. Callaghan so much….

And Tadashi wouldn't have gone back in….

And Hiro once again circled around to the one thought that kept plaguing him every time he thought about the fire: that Tadashi was dead, and it was his fault.

He tightened his arm muscles to keep from hugging the tote bag, eyes low, hardly seeing Obake finish counting out the bills and start stuffing them into envelopes. No matter what, all he could think about was how that evening had gone so wrong…how if he had been smart enough, fast enough, strong enough to hold on to Tadashi for even a few seconds longer—if he had done even one thing differently, Tadashi would still be alive, would still be here. He was torturing himself, he knew…but maybe he deserved it. Maybe he deserved the empty aching feeling that came from picturing his brother—yesterday, all of yesterday would have gone so much differently…honestly, they both would have dragged Obake home, whether he was the only kid there or not; he had something about him, some subtle air that seemed…forlorn, maybe. Tadashi would have probably teased more of a reaction out of him, figured out a way to get this kid talking…would have done the serious older-brother talk when he tried to run away, instead of Hiro basically begging him to stay.

Tadashi would have come up with something better than bot-fighting.

Hiro rubbed at his nose and face, trying to make it look like he was just tired, as Obake folded up the letters, double-checked them and the envelopes, and put them in. Pull out a sponge and a short bottle of water, unscrew the lid, wet the sponge before dabbing the line of glue on the envelopes. Hiro wondered idly if he had heard of that one urban legend about the cockroach egg in the glue, that Tadashi had teased Hiro with for months after they heard it—or maybe he just didn't want to risk a papercut on his tongue. Those were no fun.

Obake glanced at the clock again, put the two open envelopes and the sealed envelope to SFIT back in the tote bag, put the lid back on the water before relegating it and the sponge back to the grocery bag and putting it in the tote bag as well. Pick up the sealed envelope addressed to Aunt Cass and stand, pushing his chair back into place and looking at Hiro expectantly.

It took Hiro a few bleary moments to process what he was wanting; stood, pushed his own chair back into place…stare for a moment at the proffered hand before accepting it and allowing himself to be led back out.

"Have a good night," the librarian called.

"Night," Hiro said, still not sure if it could be classified as good. Follow Obake back through the minor maze of streets, take the lead and tug when it became clear Obake wasn't entirely certain where the café was from there. Downtown San Fransokyo glowed in the distance, bright and vibrant and still bursting with life, but here in Hiro's neighborhood the streets were empty and the shadows were deep, bright warm squares denoting where people were indoors for dinner, or cool blue windows of television-watching. The air was still a little tacky from the bay mist, but not the overwhelming stickiness that it would gain later in the summer—it was still early enough in the year that the cool breeze coming in from the bay was less a welcome relief and more likely to raise goosebumps on his skin. On the positive side, it woke him up a little, made him a little more alert.

They turned a corner, saw the café still pouring out warm light further up the street. Check the roads, cross the street—not as much traffic out here as in the inner city, and most everyone was home by now, only one or two odd cars traversing the streets at the moment, occupants looking preoccupied more with their destination and less with two kids on the sidewalk.

"So how are we going to do this?" Hiro asked as they came near the back alley behind the café. Obake stopped, pointed at the tote bag, then at Hiro, looked down at their hands until Hiro got the message and let go. Fished in his pocket, pulled out the envelope labeled Cass Hamada, pointed at himself before pointing up front.

"So you want me to go in—hide this," he guessed, when Obake shook his head and pointed at the tote bag again. Obake nodded, prompting him to continue. "And you go up and put that envelope in the mail slot…while I, what, cause a distraction?"

Obake nodded, apparently happy that Hiro had puzzled it out.

"You know, this would be easier if you talked," Hiro pointed out, prompting Obake to shrug. Hiro shook his head, started to turn down the alley….

Stopped, turned back to look at Obake.

"How do I know you won't just take that money and run?" he quizzed, narrowing his eyes a little.

Obake at least had the decency to look a little affronted, did a little X over his heart with a finger.

Hiro couldn't help the disbelieving snort as he turned back down the alley, made it a few steps before stopping again.

"Thank you," he said, quietly, not looking back. "I…I just needed to get out of the house." Hesitate, finally glance back—Obake was gone. Not that he expected anything less.

Go to the garage door, go to the one board on the right-hand side that he had accidentally broken one day, when he had been practicing with a soccer ball against the wall—for camp, in an attempt to get him some friends his age. He had hated it, and it had shown when he had kicked the ball so hard that it broke one of the boards—there had been a lot of frantic fixing before anyone noticed, and to his knowledge, no one had.

And even better, that half-broken board hid an empty space that worked quite well as a secret compartment. Worry at it a bit, pull the board off, drop the tote bag in, and that was that.

He put the board back in place, brushed it a little to assure himself that it was smooth once more, went to the back door. Fish under the mat for the key, unlock, put it back, ease his way in…didn't see Aunt Cass, but could hear her in the café—probably talking to a customer. He slipped in, kicked his shoes off, tugged his socks off and tossed them up the stairs as he went to the opening between the living room and the café.

He was surprised when he poked his head through, though—Aunt Cass was busy talking to Baymax, and had been for some time, if the dishes in front of her were any indication.

Baymax blinked, looked over. "Hiro."

Aunt Cass spun around. "Oh—Hiro! Where've you been? Have you eaten?"

"Oh, uh, out," Hiro said, rubbing his arm and painfully aware how lame and suspicious that sounded. "E-exploring the neighborhood. Going to the library. That sort of thing."

Aunt Cass smiled as she stood, ruffled his hair affectionately. Looked behind him—lost some of the smile. "Where's Obake?"

Hopefully not halfway to Sacramento by now. "Uh, he's…in the alley, out back—he thought he saw Mochi out there, had to make sure it wasn't him."

Baymax blinked at Mochi, sleeping on the counter. "It is: not."

"Well let's go get him," Aunt Cass said, heading for the door. "Have you guys eaten?"

Not since that morning, and not a whole lot then. "Uh, no?" Come on, think, stall—"Uh, what were you and Baymax talking about?"

"We have been discussing how best to proceed with your and Obake's health care," Baymax informed him, standing, blinking at the now-wobbling table before steadying it.

"Uh, what?"

"He's actually been very helpful," Aunt Cass said, leaning on the doorjamb a little before heading back. Hiro heard the mail flap go, started at the sound—ran after her.

"About what though?" he asked. "I'm fine, honest—I mean, yeah, worry about Obake a little with that eye, but I'm fine."

"Your hormones are currently in flux, and you are experiencing mood swings," Baymax said, toddling after them, a finger up. "My diagnosis: puberty."

"What!?"

"It had to happen eventually," Aunt Cass pointed out, tugging the door open to go out—

She and Hiro were both surprised to see Obake in the doorway, frozen in surprise halfway up the little steps, looking up deer-in-the-headlights style with his hands in his hoodie pockets.

"Oh there you are!" Aunt Cass said, putting a hand to her chest. "Mochi's inside—come on, I'll heat something up for dinner."

Obake gave her a befuddled look but stepped inside anyway. Watched as Aunt Cass closed and locked the door, waited until she was heading back to the kitchen before looking at the shoes next to the door…surprised Hiro by toeing his own shoes off. Look up at Hiro questioningly….

Hiro couldn't help but smile in relief.

Mission accomplished.

Dinner had been leftovers, which wasn't a surprise, albeit leftovers picked on Baymax's cognizance. Hiro, at least, had more of an appetite, was yawning afterwards. Obake was more than willing to go along with Baymax's suggestion that everyone go to bed, since eight to ten hours of sleep was the minimum beneficial length of rest. Plus, this got him out of the awkward questioning.

Not that he was happy with the robot at the moment—scanning him and then discussing his health with Cass Hamada all day—now she was acting like he was made of glass. He was fine, he didn't need any fussing over, really it was annoying.

Especially considering it would make getting away that much more difficult.

But, he reflected as he lay in bed, this had promise. Sure, his initial attempt at running away had been thwarted…but Hiro was more interesting than he had previously thought. And the look on Yosei's face when Hiro had crushed their robot was so satisfying.

He could hear the bed creak, knew that Hiro wasn't asleep yet—glance to see him peering over to see if he was still up.

"Hey," Hiro noised, settling back a little on the bed; when Obake gave a small wave in response: "I'm…actually surprised at you."

Obake lifted his head a little, confused, as Hiro settled down on his elbows.

"I really, really thought you were going to take that money and run," Hiro continued. "Just give up on the backpack and go. And…I guess thank you, for…well, I guess for getting me out of the house. But no more bot-fighting, got that?" he said, tone and expression stern as he pointed at Obake; like that was intimidating.

Obake humored him with a thumbs-up, went back to lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. Silence, some creaks as Hiro resituated himself under the covers….

"Well, good night, I guess," Hiro said. "Good night, Baymax."

"Good night," Baymax said from by the stairs; standing in his charger and in a position to stop Obake if he ran off again.

Not that he planned to—at least, not right away.

Continue to stare at the ceiling, mind buzzing—happily drifting off to sleep had never been a luxury for him, not with everything going on in his mind. And right now….

Right now he was thinking Hiro could be diverting, at the very least.