Prologue
5:55 p.m, San Fransokyo Coastline, January 12, 2025
San Fransokyo's coast was silent and empty except for two figures on the beach near the golden bridge.
"I do not like this plan," Baymax said as Hiro stared out at the calm, dark water.
"I'm the only one left," he murmered, mostly to himself.
Next to him was a missile, a metallic grey that nearly blended in with the twisted metal around it. He shuffled his feet, careful to avoid the shattered glass, that littered the beach in visible fragments.
"You know what to do?" he asked, turning to look at Baymax and memorizing the way he looked in the grey light.
Baymax blinked and Hiro knew he understood. He picked up the missile, strapping it to his back before moving to hug Baymax.
They stayed that way for a long time, Baymax recording every heartbeat, every breath and Hiro searing the texture of Baymax's vinyl into his brain.
Eventually, they had to separate and they did so reluctantly. Hiro took one last long look at Baymax before taking a deep breath and activating his boots and helmet. Baymax was looking at him with his customary expression, but Hiro could feel the displeasure radiating off of him.
"You have to get everyone out of range," he repeated, with a hint of desperation in his voice, and Baymax nodded.
"I must voice my objection to this plan again. You are my patient and I cannot let you come to harm."
Hiro smiled sadly and reached out to pat him gently on the arm.
"I know you don’t, buddy. But I have to."
The weight of the weapon on his back grew heavier with each passing moment, their last hope pressing down on him, and Hiro knew he had to leave.
This has to work.
He flew into the air, resisting the urge to look back at the lonely beach and the ruined city beyond. The suit around him felt like a cage and he opened the helmet to take one last gasp of fresh air before he hit the water with a large splash.
It was dark inside the ocean and the water churned as the Kaiju rose. There were faint, distorted flashes of light showing through the water and it rippled and rose as buildings fell near the coast.
He dodged debris as he swam deeper and deeper into the ocean, to where the rift was approximated to be. There was too much disturbance from the rift to get an accurate picture of where and how enormous it was, but they had approximated it to be about 50 miles downward and outward of the city.
Eventually, he reached it, swimming through the grey water and dodging the looming beasts that took lazy swipes at him thinking he was some sort of large fish.
He swallowed, a hurried intake of air, when he reached the edge of the rift, unstrapping the missile on his back and holding it out in front of him.
He let it out quickly and dove into the rift.
The rift was a swirl of dark blues and greens, empty and quiet. It was nothing like the portal he had dived through to find Abigail. He fell through it fast enough that he had to scramble to activate the missile, when his suit let out an alarm that nearly deafened him, before letting it fly through the other opening and into the other side.
The explosion blew him backwards and the heat and fire stripped his armor and chewed at his skin.
I’ll see you soon Tadashi, he thought before the rift blurred and he dropped into the dark.
San Fransokyo
He fell, landing on the concrete with a harsh thump and skidding a few feet into the nearest lamppost.
"Ow," he groaned, touching his cheek and wincing at the bruise that was beginning to form.
Abruptly, he straightened and ran his hands over his body and took a few stumbling steps.
"What the hell," he muttered before looking up to find himself on one of the streets of San Fransokyo.
The city sprawled out in front of him, lights forming odd patterns. The occasional hum of a motor broke the silence and the air was warmer than it should have been for January. There were no gashes and empty spaces where there were once buildings and there were too few balloons, wind sensors, in the sky. This was not the city he remembered.
"Wha," he muttered and immediately, his hands flew to feel at his throat.
There were no lacerations, no bruises, nothing that would have damaged his voice, yet his voice was higher than it should have been, with a faint crack in it.
"Oh my god," he said and the voice of his 14 year old self sounded in his ears. "I’m fourteen again. I’m fourteen again!"
He looked around and up, at the sensors that were lesser in number and were still wind sensors.
"It was the rift, wasn’t it," he said to no one in particular before running through the streets and turning sharply around corners until he crashed to a stop in front of their home.
He bent over, hands on his knees and tried to suck in air through lungs that felt like they were about to collapse.
He looked up as the bell above the door jingled and found himself looking into Tadashi’s face.
"Hiro," his brother asked, confused and Hiro dove at him, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing tightly.
"You’re alive," he mumbled and tried to breathe through the weight that had suddenly appeared in his chest.
"You’re alive."