Hello people! Hope you enjoyed your last chapter! though none of you reviewed it so i guess maybe not…anyway here is Chapter Four! Please review! Hope you like it! :)

TADASHI

"Hey, Hiro, did you finish that batch of…"

I trail off as I enter the strangely silent kitchen. "Hiro?"

I circle around the counter to see a tray, an array of scattered desserts, and an unconscious Hiro.

I yelp and drop to my knees next to him, feeling for a pulse and then moving to his forehead. He's definitely alive, but he's soaked in sweat and his skin is burning up.

I dash upstairs to the bathroom and grab the thermometer, shoving it unceremoniously under Hiro's tongue and hoping I don't choke him. The gadget beeps and I pull it out. My eyes widen.

106.7?

Oh my gosh. I need to get him to a hospital. As soon as I can. A fever that high is never, ever good. He's got to be really sick.

I don't bother to call anyone, just load Hiro onto the moped and drive away. I've been to the San Fransokyo hospital a few times, but not enough to really know how to get there, so I rely on maps.

I burst into the hospital with Hiro in my arms, unsure of what to do. I've never had to take someone to the ER on my own before. All I can think to do is go to someone in scrubs and tell them my baby brother has a dangerously high fever and is really sick. The nurses take it from there.

A few hours later, Hiro is tucked into a large white bed and hooked up to all sorts of tubes and wires. He looks awful. There's an IV in his arm, a heart monitor connected to his tiny frame, breathing tubes in his airway. I sit by his bed and wait for the doctors to tell me what's going to happen to him. To us.

A woman in a white coat enters Hiro's room and shuts the door quietly behind her. I sit up, anxious to hear any news about Hiro.

"Anything?" I ask, my voice scratchy from lack of use.

"Pneumonia and hyperpyrexia," she says tonelessly. "The pneumonia seems to have been aggravated by his asthma. Hyperpyrexia is a condition consisting of a fever of 106.7 degrees or higher, and Hiro's current temperature is 107.1 degrees. Unconsciousness may last for an indefinite period of time."

She sounds like a robot. No emotion. No indication that she cares whether Hiro ever wakes up.

"Thank you," I breathe, slumping back into my chair. It's not bad news, I tell myself. Well, maybe it is, but it's not the worst thing they could have said. Maybe they don't know when he'll wake up, but they haven't said he won't. He's going to be okay. He has to.

Four days later

I listen to the steady beep of Hiro's heart monitor, the sound in sync with my own pulse. My head is in my hands. He's officially entered a coma—unconscious for seventy-two hours or longer, and Hiro is at ninety-eight.

At one hundred and one hours, something in the room changes. Something is off. The room has been silent for hours and hours, but suddenly it seems much quieter.

I realize what it is, and it takes me a second to register that I should be panicking.

Hiro's heart monitor has stopped beeping.

I scramble up and over to Hiro's bed, yanking the covers back. I check for a pulse at his neck and find nothing.

I crouch over my little brother and place my hands on his chest, running over the steps for CPR in my head. Compressions. Press down rapidly for around thirty seconds, then breathe into his mouth. Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat until he starts breathing again.

Finally Hiro gasps and gives a weak cough. His eyes don't open, but at least I know he's alive.

I collapse back in my chair and glance at the thermometer. Hiro's fever has been gradually going down for the last day or so, but every so often, it spikes up again. It's down to 105.3 right now.

I sigh and rub my aching head. I can't take much more of this.

—

"Da da chi?"

I tentatively raise my head at the sound of Hiro's voice. He hasn't said my name that way since he was maybe four years old.

"Hiro!"

I tackle him in a hug, nearly knocking him off the bed. He gives a little squeak and tries to shove me off, but I'm a lot bigger than him and it doesn't really work.

Hiro's awake, but he's pretty far from being better. His illness was so aggravated by the asthma that he has to stay on an oxygen tank and wheelchair for a week after being discharged, and believe me, he is not happy about that.

"I don't need a fricking wheelchair," he grumbles on the fourth day of using it. "I can walk. It didn't do anything to my legs."

"You're not just going to carry around an oxygen tank," I retort.

"I would." He sighs. "Better than not even being allowed to walk by myself."

I don't like it any more than he does. I don't want to see my little brother so weak he can't even stand. He denies it, but he's tried. It hasn't worked very well.

The day after Hiro gets out of his wheelchair, I start running a fever. It's not very high—only 100.2—but Hiro will freak out if I tell him. He's as protective a younger brother to me as I am a big brother to him.

I just hope it doesn't get any worse, or we could be in real trouble.

HIRO

Tadashi thinks I can't tell, but I can. He's getting sick too, and I wouldn't be surprised if he's caught my pneumonia. Since he doesn't have asthma, it wouldn't be as bad, but we can't afford medical bills, so I hope he doesn't get worse.

One day, I force Tadashi to take his temperature and show me, since he still won't admit he's sick. But when he runs a fever of 103.4, he has to say it.

"I'm okay," he insists. "It's just a virus."

"I think you got my pneumonia," I say matter-of-factly, shoving him gently toward his bed. "You gotta rest."

"I hafta work…" he mumbles, and I know he's starting to go delirious with fever.

"You don't have a job, Tadashi," I tell him gently. "We haven't opened up the café yet."

"No…my boss will…"

"You own the café, idiot. Even if it was open, you wouldn't have a boss."

"Mmm."

Tadashi falls asleep after a while, and I decide to get him medicine while he can't stop me. The problem is, I don't know what he needs.

I do some research, but I'm going to need Dashi awake so I know what symptoms he's having. All I can do for now is let him rest.

When Tadashi does wake up, it's only for a few minutes, but I do get him to tell me that his chest really hurts and I tell him I'll get Advil. I'll have to take the moped, which I'm not old enough to drive yet and which I will probably crash. I think I can handle one trip to the pharmacy, though.

I leave a short note for Dashi explaining where I've gone, then mount the moped and rev the engine. I vaguely know how to get to the pharmacy. It's not far.

I somehow manage to get to the pharmacy without dying or getting lost—well, not for long, anyway—and am relieved when I don't need to show an ID to buy Advil. I guess that only applies to prescription meds.

I get back on the moped and speed away. The roads are slick with ice and just starting to melt, so I try to be careful. I'm kind of a speed demon, though, and I can't really stop myself from exceeding the speed limit anywhere and everywhere I can. I know it'll backfire on me someday when I can drive, but for now, it's fine.

I change my mind when I hit a rough patch of ice and suddenly I'm flying through the air and then skidding across the sidewalk, scraping my cheek, shoulder, and hip raw. I land hard on my right wrist and hear a pop before the momentary rush fades and sudden pain overwhelms me.

My head throbs, along with most of the rest of my body. I force myself to my feet and pull the moped up one-handed.

I'm only a few blocks from the café, so I suck it up and drag myself back home, pulling the moped behind me. I'm bleeding in several places and I think I need the Advil more than Tadashi does right now, but I need to get this back to him, so I keep going.

I drop the moped in the garage without caring about standing it upright and force myself up the stairs to Tadashi's room. He's still asleep, so I set the bag from the pharmacy on his bedside table with a glass of water and collapse on my bed. My wrist really hurts. I wish we still had the brace from when Tadashi fractured his wrist in third grade, but we didn't get to keep much when we were in foster care.

I close my eyes and let darkness carry me off to sleep.