hey guys! here's part six, officially the longest chapter i've ever posted! i absolutely love this chapter, i hope it's touching and beautiful for you guys...there is death and memories and seriously i love it...
hopefully this is going to be a longer story, i'm at about fifty pages right now...it's DEFINITELYi gonna beat A Brother's Keeper, cause i just threw in another huge thing. I hope it'll be about ten chapters!
thanks silvie for reviewing!
peace out guys
-HIRO-
I don't know how much time has passed when I open my eyes, but it has to have been at least a little bit. I'm confused about where I am and what happened for a moment, but then I remember.
I'm still underneath Baymax, wrapped in his huge metal arms, and I feel kinda squished. But nothing appears to be broken, so I'm glad. I'm still pretty sore from the rockfall earlier, but Baymax has done his job—I'm not hurt any worse. I think the explosion was really more of a huge electrical pulse, which probably caused me to pass out but didn't hurt me. That's good—I can't afford any more injuries.
I wiggle out from under Baymax, who seems like he might be dead, and look around the cavern. Obake is passed out on the floor, and Tadashi and my parents are nowhere to be seen—that's worrisome. Thankfully, nothing more has collapsed, but the robot lies in a twisted pile of metal and wires—it's completely destroyed.
"Tadashi?" I rasp, realizing that my throat is choked with dust. I cough violently for a couple seconds, then call out again. "Tadashi!"
"Hiro!"
Dashi's voice comes from behind the robot's mangled remains. It sounds weak and shaky, and a thousand visions course through my mind of how badly my brother could be hurt—but as I limp around the pile of metal, I discover Tadashi kneeling beside the motionless bodies of our parents. He's bleeding a little from a cut on his chin, and the fabric of the jumpsuit under his armor is torn in several places, but I don't think he's injured. What's wrong, then? Dashi sounds awful.
As I sink to my knees beside my brother, Tadashi turns to me. "Hiro—"
That's when I see it—his eyes are swollen and bloodshot, and tear tracks run down his cheeks. Tadashi has been crying—but why?
"What's wrong?" I ask in a whisper. "What happened?"
"Mom and Dad—they tried to shield me—but the shrapnel—Dad's gone."
I look down at our parents and suddenly notice the many lacerations covering their bodies, all of them bleeding badly. I realize Tadashi's hands are stained with blood—he's obviously been trying to stop the bleeding, but it hasn't worked. Dad is completely motionless, not breathing. My father is gone.
And my mom is dying.
Again.
Suddenly, my mother's eyes open and she struggles for breath. "Hiro…" She coughs, and blood runs from the corner of her mouth. "Tadashi…my boys…we never…never truly left you."
"I know, Mom," Dashi whispers through his tears. "Don't talk. Let us get you to the hospital."
"It's no use…I'm dying…"
"You're not dying," I whisper, my throat suddenly choked with sadness. "It's gonna be okay. We're gonna get you out of here—"
"Hiro," Mom interrupts. "I love you…but it…isn't enough."
She manages a weak smile. "I love you, boys…remember…you do not walk alone."
Her body goes limp, and the light goes out of her eyes.
The next thing I hear is an anguished cry of pain and grief, and then Tadashi's sobs. I'm numb, unable to feel anything.
They're gone.
My parents are gone.
For good this time.
—TADASHI—
Before I know it, the police have come to arrest Obake, and they've taken away our parents' bodies. Hiro and I return home, and Aunt Cass and Honey let me stay up in our room for an indefinite amount of time, occasionally bringing me donuts. I can barely eat, but I know I have to. It's hard, though.
I haven't had two parents since I was seven—thirteen years ago—and I was so close to having that again. I didn't realize how much I missed it.
When night falls, Hiro curls up in bed with me, snuggling against my chest. His tears finally slip out, soaking my shirt, but I don't care. Hiro was so close, too.
To soothe my baby brother, I quietly sing the lullaby our mom and dad used to sing to us when we were little. I think Mom wanted us to remember it.
May you see God's light
On the path ahead
When the road you walk is dark
May you always hear
Even in your hour of sorrow
The gentle singing of the lark
When times are hard
May darkness never turn
Your heart to stone
May you always remember
When the shadows fall
You do not walk alone.
And we both cry ourselves to sleep.
Two days later, the funeral is held. It's very small and very quiet, and we place the bodies into once-empty coffins. The gravestones are real now, and it hurts more than ever knowing they weren't before.
Even the excitement of being able to walk, run and exercise again is dampened by knowing my parents can't share it with me. I never expected it, but it was so real for a few precious hours.
Life is like that. You have it for just a moment, then it's gone. At least that's how it is in the scope of eternity—just a second. There's no way to tell when it's time for your life to end until it does. I know death is part of our way to heaven, but it feels so final. So eternal. Like I'm never gonna see my family again. What if I don't? What if what I believe isn't really true?
What if God just doesn't care?
I mentally smack myself. Of course He cares. This is just a trial He's put me through—but it's a hard one. It's almost as hard to go through as when I was seven, when I thought Mom and Dad were gone. I remember watching the firelight in horror as Dad ran back in to help Mom, who was trying to keep their experiment from exploding. But they didn't stop it, and then all I remember is black and then white when I woke up. Then Hiro's tears, then the rain, then the comfort of our new home.
It got better after that—but then there was the fire at SFIT. The flames, the smoke, Hiro's screams for me to come back. I did come back, but the building exploded, and I almost died anyway. I had third-degree burns on my side, arm, and face, along with serious bruising and a fractured clavicle. Hiro was only a little burned, but he had a concussion, worsened asthma, and was pretty scraped up. When I woke up in the hospital after three days, I was shocked by what had happened to both of us. None of Hiro's injuries scarred—but mine did. It doesn't look too bad on my face, mostly on my side and arm, but I'm still scarred for life.
Then the worst thing of all happened.
The hurricane.
A huge storm struck San Fransokyo, right when Hiro had gone missing while on night patrol. I was terrified and unable to stop thinking about Hiro all alone in the wind and the rain, but then he found his way out of the woods and we went home. When we got back, though, the storm had gotten a lot worse. Minutes after we stepped inside, the café was torn apart by the wind and the debris flying through the air. While escaping the wreckage, Hiro and I were swept away by the floodwater. Hiro somehow got rescued by paramedics—poor little guy had a broken hip and hypothermia—but I fell into an abandoned building, broke my back, and stayed there for three days. Then Hiro found me and managed to get me back to a hospital, where the doctors told me I would never walk again.
They were wrong, of course. But it was still the hardest thing I've ever had to go through.
Until now.
Since my parents have been gone for the last thirteen years, it's not going to be hard to get used to living without them. But it's basically soul-crushing to be so close to being together again and then having that taken away.
I sigh. It's pointless crying about it—they're gone and there's no way to bring them back. Right now I have to focus on taking care of my family—Aunt Cass seems to be in a state of shock, Honey's baby bump is growing and she needs me to help her, and Hiro is still injured and upset about everything that's going on right now. I'm the man of the house—I can handle this.
Well, maybe I can.
But my heart can't.
two months later
Almost time.
Honey's almost ready to give birth. Just one more month. We're so close—I'm so excited for my daughter to come.
I've been preparing my side of the room upstairs with the bassinet that both Hiro and I used to rest in when we were infants. There's also a changing table and a tiny baby swing. It's really cramped now, and Hiro is complaining incessantly about how he has no space anymore, but I know he's secretly really excited about his niece coming.
Honey and I are thinking about names, and I've insisted we have to name our daughter after her mom. But not the name her mom uses—we're going to call our baby Evangeline. It was Honey's name before she legally changed it to Honey Lemon Hamada. No one ever called her Evangeline except her mother—even her dad called her Honey Lemon, since it's been her nickname since she was six. That was when she met Fred. But anyway, Honey told me that if I get to pick the first name, she gets to pick the middle name. I agreed, and Honey chose the name Ethel. GoGo's real name—and one she hated, but it sounds beautiful with Evangeline. Besides, it's a fitting tribute for our friend.
I'm doing okay as of now, feeling less depressed than before. I still miss Mom and Dad, and I visit their graves every day. Hiro, Honey, and Aunt Cass come with me, and we bring flowers every week—cherry blossoms. Always cherry blossoms, because my parents' favorite flowers were cherry blossoms and they met under a tree full of them.
And because cherry blossoms mean life.
They still live.
And they will forever.
But it doesn't mean we don't miss them.
One day, as I sit by their graves, I place my hands on the stones. And I feel something, see something. It feels like…a flashback. What's happening?
Suddenly, the world swirls and fades, and I can see something beautiful.
May 5th, 2013
Morgan Rowan rushed home from school, desperate to catch her younger sister before she blew up the kitchen again. Cassandra Rowan always beat her sister home and started baking immediately, usually making a huge mess, and Morgan was determined to not get in trouble with their mother again.
The fifteen-year-old ran faster and faster, stopping only once to take off her high heels—she couldn't run in those. The cherry blossom trees flashed past in a blur of pink and white. She was sprinting so fast that she didn't even see the boy trying to cross the sidewalk.
Suddenly, Morgan slammed into something soft, and the impact sent her sprawling onto the pavement. She felt the skin on her elbows scrape against the sidewalk, and they immediately started to feel hot and wet.
Slightly dazed, Morgan stood up with every intent of continuing home. Instead, her eyes locked on the thing she had collided with.
Oh my gosh.
It was a boy.
An insanely cute boy.
An adorable boy, with square glasses and a mop of messy black hair. As he stood up, Morgan could tell that he was short—at least three inches shorter than her. He was also a little chubby, with an adorably round stomach and an even rounder face. Morgan felt a twinge of guilt when she realized that there was a big scrape on one cheek, obviously from where she'd knocked him over. Somehow, though, it made him even cuter.
The boy was staring at Morgan with wide dark eyes, and his jaw dropped slightly.
"S-sorry," he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Didn't see you—I didn't mean to—oh, man, I—"
Morgan laughed a little. "That's okay. I was the one not looking where I was going."
"No, it's—it's my fault—" The boy was blushing furiously now, his cheeks bright red. "I'll walk you home if you want."
Morgan could feel her own cheeks flaming. This kid was offering to walk her home? Wow.
"If you've got time," she responded. "I'd hate to make you late for something."
"No, I was just out for a walk." The boy caught sight of Morgan's elbows, his eyes widening again. "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry, I hurt you—"
"It's okay! Besides, your cheek's bleeding, too. This is all my fault." She dragged her hands down her face, sighing. "I'm so sorry. How about I just go home and never bother you again?"
"No, I'll come with you!" the boy burst out, then clapped his hands over his mouth. "I mean…if you want…"
"I'd like that," Morgan said softly, and she led him down the sidewalk.
"So, what's your name?" Morgan asked as they drew nearer to her house.
"Treven," he answered. "Treven Hamada. You can call me Trev if you want."
"Trev. Alright. I'm Morgan Rowan."
"That's a pretty name," Treven said quietly, then blushed bright red again. "How—how old are you? Where do you go to school?"
"Fifteen. I'm a junior at San Fransokyo High. Before you ask, I skipped a grade. What about you?"
Treven stared at the ground. "I'm fourteen. I go to…to the other school. SF Alternative."
Oh man.
He was Japanese.
Full-blooded Japanese, or he wouldn't go to that school. San Fransokyo Alternative High School was for the Japanese kids, since their ancestors had been part of the Axis Powers in World War II. Then World War III, back in 2004. Both times, the Japanese had been the enemy, and both times, America had beaten them. Ever since, the Japanese kids in San Fransokyo had been placed in alternate schools, with horrible conditions and incompetent teachers. They couldn't go to college, and they all found it very hard to get jobs. Most of them lived in tiny houses or even cardboard boxes. They were segregated from everyone else, and they weren't allowed to marry anyone other than their own kind.
That meant Morgan couldn't ever be with Treven.
She couldn't explain it, but she already knew that there was something special about this boy. He was important.
"I'm sorry," Treven mumbled. "I shouldn't even be here."
"I want you to stay," Morgan told him. "I don't care if you're not allowed to be here. I can—I can tell you're special."
Trev gave her a small smile, and they continued to Morgan's house.
When they got there, Cass was taking a batch of cookies out of the oven. "Hey, Morgan! I totally beat you home this time—whoa, who's that?"
The eleven-year-old's green eyes narrowed as she studied Trev. "He's pretty cute, I guess." She marched over and looked the boy up and down, scrutinizing him. Trev let out a tiny yelp when Cass poked him in the gut with one finger.
"He likes dessert. I deem him worthy," Cass proclaimed.
Trev's face went bright red again, and Morgan's heart melted. He was just so cute when he did that.
"Whoa, you guys are bleeding," Cass observed. "I'll get the band-aids and bacitracin."
A few minutes later, Trev's cheek and Morgan's elbows had been patched up, and they were feasting on the cookies Cass had made. But just after they finished, they heard the garage door open.
"Mom's home!" Cass said in a panicked whisper. "You've got to get out of here, Trev! But you're gonna have to go out a window or something, cuz Mom's gonna walk in any second!"
Morgan leaped up and grabbed Treven's arm, pulling him toward the stairs. "Come on, let's go!" She could hear Cass talking to their mom, trying to stall her.
They burst into Morgan's room, and she quietly shut the door. "Alright, Trev," she whispered. "You've gotta go, or my mom's gonna kill me—first, because you're a boy, and second, because you're a Japanese boy—she might even call the police!"
Trev laughed. "I hope she wouldn't hate me that much." He crossed Morgan's room to the window and pushed it open. "It was nice meeting you." He swallowed. "Could I—could I see you again?"
"Of course," Morgan whispered, her heart thumping. He wanted to see her again! "Same time, same place tomorrow?"
"I'll be looking forward to it," Trev said, a big smile plastered on his face. He turned to the window and started to climb out. "See you."
"See you," she said quietly, and went downstairs to greet her mother, relieved that they'd gotten away with it.
When she went back up a few minutes later, though, she was greeted by an interesting sight.
A pair of legs were sticking out of her window, and Morgan barely managed to hold back a loud scream before realizing it was Trev. She shut the door and locked it, then crossed the room over to the window.
"Trev! What the flip are you doing?" she asked in an urgent whisper.
"I'm stuck," he mumbled, and even though she couldn't see his face, Morgan was sure it was bright red again. "Your window's way too small for people to climb out of."
Morgan couldn't stop herself from laughing. "Or maybe you should cut down on the dessert. Don't worry, I'll help you."
All it took was a good push, and Trev came free of her window. He crouched on the narrow strip of roof and whispered, "Sorry about that. See you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow," Morgan whispered back, and then he was gone.
She flopped onto her bed, her hand over her heart, and sighed somewhat dreamily. Trev was just so adorable. And she still felt like there was something special about him.
That's when she knew she wanted to marry him.
Morgan sank onto her bed, staring at the pregnancy test.
Two lines.
No.
She'd known something was wrong when she missed her period. She shouldn't have done it. Never should have messed this up for her—and for Treven. He'd consented, but now—
She was pregnant, and Trev was going to be a father at only fifteen. Morgan could only imagine the scorn that would be thrown at the sophomore—he already got his fair share of teasing, being poor and Japanese. Now Trev was going to be known as the kid who accidentally got a girl pregnant—an upper-middle class Scottish girl, no less. They weren't supposed to be together, and now everyone would know what had happened.
Hopefully the baby would look more like Treven than Morgan, so everyone would believe Trev hadn't broken the law. But at the same time, maybe it would be better for the baby to look like Morgan, so they could have a good life and not have to go to the alternative school, not be looked down upon because they were half Japanese.
Morgan buried her head in her hands, rubbing her temples. She was going to have to either try to raise the kid on her own or give them up for adoption. She couldn't support a baby.
But it was Trev's baby, too. And Morgan knew he wouldn't give up his child for anything—she'd seen how much he cared for everyone. Trev wouldn't care if he and his girlfriend were ridiculed for their baby, he'd still care for it until it grew up and had everything Trev and Morgan never had.
She had to tell him. She wasn't giving up his baby.
And there was another problem to worry about, too—the baby bump. Everyone would notice, and Morgan would probably be able to hide it at first. Later on, she might come across as having gained some weight. But in the last trimester, everyone would be able to tell. She'd probably have to miss school once she got to eight months.
Morgan picked up her phone and sent a text to Treven, telling him he needed to come over right away. She had something very important to tell him.
Nine months later, on her due date, Morgan gazed down at her son. He was beautiful, perfect. Messy dark hair, wide hazel eyes. He looked just like Trev—but his eyes were the same shape as hers. You could tell he wasn't all Japanese. Yes, everyone would notice that he wasn't all white, either, but Morgan didn't care. This was her son. Trev's son.
Their son.
After getting kicked out of her house by her mom, who was furious over her daughter being pregnant, Morgan went to stay with Trev in his tiny house. Cass blew up at their mom, telling her that it wasn't fair to throw Morgan out, and she left with her sister. Trev didn't have any family left—he'd lived by himself for a couple years before Morgan met him. Now the three of them were a family, with a fourth member just having been added.
Tadashi Khachaturian Hamada.
A long, complicated name, but a beautiful one. And their baby was perfect, and they were slowly starting to rise out of poverty, and Morgan and Trev were going to be married and sealed in the temple. They'd all be a family forever.
This was all Morgan had ever wanted.
At least, she thought so, until Hiro came. Then her life was even better.
Then the lab exploded while she and Trev worked on the amplifier, and the last thing she thought was that she hoped Cass could take care of her boys. That they'd still be able to have a good life.
Thirteen years later, as she died, she knew they had.
Her job was done.
And the last thing she felt was peace.
She did not walk alone.
I jerk back from the gravestones, gasping.
Wow.
So that's what it's like to be a new parent, to look down on your child for the first time. I'm so excited.
But the thing that hit me the hardest in that flashback was the fact that my parents felt peace when they died. They died saving us, and they had no regrets. They loved us enough. More than enough.
I realize I'm crying, and I stand up as I wipe my tears away. I have to get home and help in the café.
As I leave the cemetery, I can't help but feel like something is wrong. I don't know what, but it's bad. Seriously bad.
I'm passing the hospital when it happens.
The whole top floor of the place blows apart.
The realization of what's going on rushes through me fast as lightning.
The police took Obake to the hospital for treatment, since his brain damage was the reason he did all those terrible things. He was getting treated for the past two months, but maybe it wasn't working. Maybe Obake had something he could use to escape if he ever ended up in prison or somewhere else he didn't want to be. Some kind of weapon. Whatever the explosion is, though, it's dangerous. Very dangerous.
I watch as the building collapses, floor by floor, but so fast it happens in less than a second. The buildings around it go down too, and the wave of destruction is coming toward me.
All I can think is I'm going to die.
I sprint down the street, but the wave catches up to me, and I'm suddenly lifted off of my feet, being flung down the street and bouncing several times.
Please be safe, Hiro.
Honey.
Aunt Cass.
Evangeline…
The world goes black.