"A person's life is like a flame," Hiro read off, "a candle that only stays lit for so long." Hiro sighed and shut the book. Aunt Cass had gotten him a number of similar ones, all with cheesy titles and useless tips.
But that couldn't be true. Tadashi didn't seem like the candle Aunt Cass lit every Friday night, or the candles they lit on the menorah every Chanukah, or even like birthday cake candles.
Tadashi had just been Tadashi.
Heroic Tadashi, who went out in an explosion of flames.
And, unlike a candle, Hiro's older brother couldn't be relit.