Chapter 1
As though he’d been freed from a trance, Hiro’s eyes shot open as he gasped for air. Instinctively, his hands pinned themselves to his churning stomach and he attempted to stop the gagging in his throat, but it was no use — was this what drowning felt like? He imagined the water filling in his lungs, pushing his head back and pulling him under its surface like a siren catching its prey. Hiro’s head spun, his heart pumping to an irregular beat, as streams of red liquid leaked from his forehead to his lips. It felt wet and fresh on his tongue, but as he tried to wipe it from his face, he felt a sharp pain in all his joints.
The ground beneath him was rough; the dry mud littered with dark twigs and jagged stones that scratched his tender skin. Slowly sitting up, Hiro looked down at his hands, and squealed - not because they were painted crimson, but because of their size. They were tiny, like a… child’s.
“What?” Hiro murmured, his voice sluggish and uncharacteristically small. His tone was too high pitched, too childlike - it hadn’t only been his hands that had shrunk — so had his feet and legs and arms — so had his voice. The last few hours were a blur, he couldn’t remember anything (Was he drunk? Was he hallucinating? Or was this more serious? Had he taken a fall? Did a mission go wrong?), but he did know that something was up and it was bad. “Baymax!” He called, his voice still foreign to his ears, as he stood up. Wobbling drunkenly from foot to foot, Hiro stumbled towards the patch of fallen trees in front of him.
The robot had flattened the blushes around it, and the sparks of electricity coming from its body made the leaves crackle furiously as though they were sitting on a stove.
“B-Baymax?” He tried again, falling to his knees at the sight of his friend. What kind of sick horror story was this? Hiro felt the vomit rising through his body and blocking his throat. Taking a deep breathe, he gulped it back down, but the toxic taste in his mouth remained.
“T-t-t-a-a-d-d-a-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-i-i.” The robot glitched. “T-t-t-a-d-d-a-sh-sh-i, s-s-s-o-m-e-th-th-i-ing i-is w-wro-o-ng w-wi—“
“I-I know. It’s going to be okay.” Hiro interrupted. “Can you get up?” He asked it. Grunting, he attempted to grab its arms and pull it into a sitting position, but it was no use — his little body didn’t have enough strength to do it.
“T-t-a-d-d-a-shi-shi,” Baymax repeated, “S-s-s-ome-th-th-iiiing—“
“Baymax, it’s me — Hiro!” Hiro exclaimed. “Tadashi isn’t here! Tadashi, he—”, Hiro’s voice hitched, “—he hasn’t been here for a while. It’s just you and me, now. Tadashi’s de—“
“Here.” Baymax finished. “Y-you are-are-are Ta—“
“No I’m not!” Hiro snapped. His hands broke into fists and he felt the anger reach his chest. “Tadashi’s dead, Baymax! H-he died, okay? He’s dead!” Hiro yelled.
The air stood still as Hiro silently panted. Sorrow filled his bones as fury crept back to its cell, and Hiro was about to apologise when he was cut off by quiet wailing. It… sounded like a little boy was crying. Hiro’s breathe caught the back of his throat like a knife to the chest. “Baymax, what’s the date?” He asked.
“T-the tw-w-e-n-t-t-t-y f-i-r-s-st of apr-r-i-l-l-l, t-two th-th-ou-ou-s-s-sand a-and tw-w-e-n-t-t-t-y on-one.” Baymax replied.
“Fuck.” Hiro swore. “W-why— out of all the days why am I here?” The 21st April, 2021 — the day his parents took him and Tadashi for their first camping trip, the day of the crash, the day that they died — Hiro let out a broken sob and ran towards the wailing.
Ringing filled his ears as Hiro slipped and tumbled through the wilderness, battling the spiked branches of the trees, until he made it to the main road. Taking a deep breathe, Hiro squeezed shut his eyes, and tried to calm himself down. He really didn’t want to look, but what other choice did he have? He needed to confront his past in order to fix his present.
Glass was everywhere - on the grass, on the road, in the car : it sparkled like jewels, yet consumed everything like littered confetti, chaotic with its landing place and dripping with blood. The tree had crushed the car diagonally, its bark and branches spread so far out that you could barely see the vehicle beneath it - not that Hiro wanted to look inside. He didn’t need to see through the front window to know that his parents’ heads were oozing with blood, a branch piercing through his Mom’s chest, and brains hanging out from his Dad’s skull.
Shaking off his discomfort, Hiro gulped down another reflux of acid and rushed to the side of the car, grabbing the handle and yanking it until the door was finally opened. There he was, still tightly secured in his car seat - wailing.
Hiro sniffed, wiping the streams of tears from his face with his oversized sleeve, before getting to work at his younger-self’s seatbelt. Hiro carefully scooped little Hiro up and carried him out of the car. “H-hey, don’t cry, it’s okay.” He cooed, resting him down on the grass. However, little Hiro could see the fear on the older boy’s face, and continued to cry.
Taking another deep breath, Hiro decided to be brave and climbed back into the car. “Tadashi!” He called, his voice breaking as he tried to stir the remaining boy in the car. He’d banged his head and the branches were covering his whole body, tearing apart his clothes and skin - the boy needed to be careful if he wanted to pull him out. Hiro pushed the branches out of the way, unbuckling the seatbelt, and grabbed the boy by his waist to pull him out.
Dropping him in the mud, Hiro attempted to find the other’s pulse with no success - the boy wasn’t breathing. “No, no, no, no, no!” Hiro yelled, the panic in his chest increasing with each ‘no’. “Shit! Come on! Tadashi!” He cried, starting CPR as his tears mixed into his brother’s blood. “‘Dashi! Nisan! Please!” Hiro begged. “‘Dashi, please!”
The younger Hiro continued to wail on the side of the road, calling out to his dead family and the boy, who had saved him, and Hiro couldn’t breathe — he couldn’t breathe!
Hiro was supposed to be eighteen, the year was supposed to be 2036, but it was 2021, Hiro was a child, and Tadashi… Tadashi was dead. He wasn’t that immoral to fake being his own brother for eleven years, right? He wasn’t that idiotic. He wasn’t that cruel...right?
“Baymax?” Hiro cried out.
It made sense. The fire...it must of been a distraction. He had to get back to the future and it was the only way to sneak off from his younger self without telling him the truth. Hiro’s whole life had been a lie, his older brother had died - no - he was his older brother and he’d lied.
“Baymax!” Hiro yelled.
He heard no answer from his friend : Hiro was alone.
“Dashi!” The younger Hiro yelled, pulling Hiro out of his thoughts. He didn’t have time to think about the details of his existence, there wasn’t enough time to panic — not when there was a three year old boy to protect.
Hiro took a deep breath and picked up his dead older brother, throwing him over his shoulder, and walking back into the wilderness. “I’m sorry, Nisan. I wish… I wish this wasn’t real, I really do, but I promise… I promise to be a good big brother to myself. I’ll… I’m going to do you proud, big brother.” Hiro gulped. Finding a ditch, he dropped the lifeless body inside. Then, he covered it up with leaves and paused to give his respects, before rushing back to the crying child he left at the side of the road.
“It’s okay, Hiro! Nisan’s here!” Hiro called, running up to the child and pulling him into a hug. He needed to be brave for his younger self — even if he didn’t believe in what he was doing himself. Hiro’s actions were crazy, and yet, it was the only option he had. No one was going to believe that he was his de-aged self from the future, and even if he did, the little Hiro wasn’t going to grow up and become him because his brother died on impact. Hiro could regret all his decisions later, but right now, he had his younger self crying in his arms, and they needed help. “Otōto, you need to tell me if anything hurts, okay?” Hiro told him. His younger self shook his head, his tiny hands clutching the top of his shirt. “That’s good, nisan’s got you, it’s okay.” Hiro cooed.
After walking back towards the car, Hiro Ignored his younger-self’s protests and released him onto the grass. The last thing he wanted to do was break into the front of the car, but if he was to save them, he needed a phone. Pulling the door open, the boy tried to avoid the blood, guts, bones and everything in between as he reached for his Dad’s phone. Air blocked his throat and Hiro squeezed shut his eyes as his felt for his Dad’s pocket. Finding the zip, he pulled it open, his fingers grabbing for the phone clumsily and pulling away before he had to look. Hiro opened his eyes, quickly shutting the door and running back to younger Hiro without a second thought.
“Dashi, I’m tired.” The toddler moaned.
“It’s okay.” Hiro reassured him, blinking away his own tears as he sat down beside him and squeezed the smaller hand. He didn’t want to think about his parents in the car, but he could see still the blood and the guts and he couldn’t breathe.
“Dashi?”
“I-I’m here, little brother.” He choked, tears pouring down his bloody face as he forced on a smile. “I’m okay, my love, d-don’t worry about me.” He was all alone. Everything in his life was a lie. Tadashi was dead and he was alive.
Even though his younger self was playing along, Hiro still had fears about him messing up his plan. His younger self couldn’t know that he replaced their Tadashi, but how could he not realise the situation when he watched him drag the body away? Young Hiro was a toddler, and although the trauma of the night would be enough to make him forget about the “Tadashi Swap”, he could still slip up to an adult and oust him as a fake.
Did he want to pretend to be Tadashi? No. Did he have to pretend to be his brother? Yes. Although his mission seemed impossible, Hiro knew that he succeeded. After all, if time was an unchangeable loop, then he had to have grown up with himself as Tadashi. Somehow, when Hiro was young Hiro, he, old Hiro, pretended to be his dead older brother for eleven years, convinced everyone that he, fake Tadashi, had died in the SFIT fire, and hopefully, had found a way to back to the future. It was… a lot to take in, but Hiro understood what he needed to do.
It wasn’t personal, it was a matter of survival, and in order to return home, he had to be someone else. Hiro needed to be Tadashi.
…
”H-hello?”
“Hi sweetie, what’s your name?”
“Hir—Ta-Tadashi Hamada.”
“Are your parents around, Tadashi? Is there any adults I can talk to?”
“N-no. M-my-my parents are...they’re trapped in the car. You need to help me and my brother, please!”
“Don’t worry sweetie, I’m sending someone to your location right now. Whatever you do, don’t hang up. Can you tell me where you are?”
“I-I don’t know. We’re on the side of the road, but I don’t know where.”
“That’s okay, just stay there sweetie, and we’ll come get you. Can you tell me what happened?”
“We were driving and a tree fell on the car. I got out and helped my brother.”
“Good boy, sweetie. How old are you?”
“S-seven. Hiro’s three.”
“Your brother has a cool name. Is he hurt?”
“N-no, but he’s shivering really bad. He’s too cold. You need to help him.”
“Don’t worry sweetheart. Help is on the way. I promise they will be there soon.”
…
When Aunt Cass arrived at the hospital, she didn’t notice a thing. Hiro felt like a cuckoo as she held them close and let them cry: everything was so wrong, and yet, Hiro was hungry for the affection, so desperate for love and reassurance that he forgot his woes, and fell into the mask of Tadashi Hamada. Yes, what he was doing was wrong, but he didn’t have time to debate the morals. He was hurt and tired and broken inside — Hiro needed his Aunt Cass. Tadashi needed his Aunt Cass. Tadashi, he was Tadashi ; there was no going back.
…
Hiro cried every night. He couldn’t keep still, tossing and turning, until he tired himself out and flopped head-first into his pillow. Tadashi often found himself climbing into his bed, holding Hiro to his chest or sitting against the headrest and massaging his head. However, the silence afterwards was always deadly. Once Hiro was finally asleep, Tadashi had to deal with his own thoughts, his own mistakes, his own…
He could still see his parents; lifeless and inhuman in the front of the car. He could barely recognise their faces with his Dad’s brains hanging from his blue lips and the branch’s thorns piercing his Mom’s eyes, but it was them — god, it was them.
Aunt Cass told him he didn’t have to be brave, that it was okay to mourn like his brother, but something stopped him from breaking down in front of her. Everything inside him forced him to hide, making sure he played pretend and stayed in character - what if he got to close to someone and they found out that he was a fake? He couldn’t break time, could he?
Tadashi curled into a ball and wept.
…
The best thing about going back in time was that Tadashi got to relive his happiest memories. It was Hiro’s fourth birthday and they’d spent the morning playing and running around the nearby park. Then, the family of three returned to the Café for birthday lunch, homemade cake, and presents. Sitting crossed legged on their bedroom floor, Hiro ripped apart the last bundle of bright blue fabric to reveal a fluffy white teddybear.
“That’s Baymax.” Tadashi told him, softly. “His parents had to go on a very important mission, and he’s worried about what will happen to them. That’s why I told him that he could come home with us.” He explained. “Now, whenever you are lonely or missing home, you have someone, who feels the same way, and keep you company. You’ll always have Baymax to count on.” Hiro gave him the largest grin and Tadashi couldn’t help but beam back. “I know it’s hard, Otōto, but… you’ll always have me and Aunt Cass and now Baymax. You’ll never have to be alone.” He reassured him.
“I love you, Nisan.” Hiro murmured, hugging Baymax to his chest, with bright and innocent eyes.
“I love you too, Otōto.” Tadashi forced out, his throat blocking up as he choked on his emotion. As though his body had a kind of its own, Tadashi crawled up to him, wrapping his arms around the smallest boy, and resting his head on his shoulder. “We’ll get through this, I-I know we will — we can do anything when we have each other.”
…
To who it may concern, to who finds this journal in the future, to my friends, to Aunt Cass, to myself or a stranger on the street, to another boy or child, another dreamer, a lost soul trying to find relief, my name is Tadashi Hamada, but it was Hiro once.
I feel like the past has cursed me. I can’t forget. I close my eyes and I’m there. What did I do? I’m insane. Sick. I’m pretending to be my brother, my brother, who was once me before I knew the truth, and I don’t know what to do. Sure, I have lived this life before in the eyes of my past (and now younger) self, but do I remember enough to replicate it? I feel awful lying to Aunt May, I want to burn the pain she carries and tell her everything I’ve learnt over the last eighteen years, but I can’t. She wouldn’t believe me, anyway. Time travel, deaging AND being your older brother in an infinity time loop? It’s extreme even for me and let’s just say I’ve seen and experienced a LOT of things in my life.
I will admit it’s isolating. Lonely. I’ve never felt so alone. Even when Ta other me died, I didn’t feel like this. Everything I knew is still around me, but it’s not mine — does that make sense? I still have Aunt May, but she’s not the Aunt May I left behind. I still live in the Café, but it doesn’t look like how it does in the future. The San Fransokyo outside my window doesn’t have the same feeling — it’s still my home, but it doesn’t feel like my home. I want to go home, but I can’t.
I spent so long wishing Tadashi was alive that I never questioned if it was his plan all along. It was my plan, my future plan, and even though I’d do anything to save myself from heartbreak, I have no choice, had no choice, but to destroy my younger self’s world when it comes (or came — I’ve done it before) time. I wish I had Tadashi. Why couldn’t he have been real? Why did he have to be a lie? I don’t want to be my own big brother. I want my older brother.
If the real Tadashi was alive, I’d ask him how he did it. How he was such a good brother to me when I was Hiro. I’d ask him about all the little things that he enjoyed or made his brain tick, the adventures he and our friends had and his favourite memories. I’d ask him if anything was real, if ‘us’ was a thing, if he loved me as much as I loved him. Why did he run into the fire? Despite knowing the pain it would cause Hiro, why did he do it, anyway? Why did you leave me, Tadashi? I miss you.