Don't Remember It, Don't Return To It

“Hey, where is Tadashi? Shouldn’t he be back from SFIT already?” The first time it happened was only a couple days after Tadashi’s death. Aunt Cass was actively in the middle of planning his funeral, already struggling with everything that’s happened and had to be done later, when she heard Hiro ask that. It felt like the air was punched out of her lungs in an instance, her body suddenly going unresponsive for a moment from the shock. What kind of a sick joke was that? She wanted to ask, already whipping her head around to the source of noise— Only to see Hiro staring down at her from the staircase with genuine confusion and concern on his face as he gripped his phone hard, drumming the fingers of his free hand on the wall. “He’s not answering my calls. Do you have any of his friends’ contacts maybe? He usually warns when he’s held up there…” Cass took a deep breath, carefully watching her nephew with tired eyes. She was really not in the mood for jokes, especially about Tadashi, but… it honestly didn’t look like Hiro was joking. Though, on the other hand, he did look like he had just woken up, so maybe he wasn’t awake enough to really remember. He really did sleep a lot these past couple of days… Better not push it. “I’m sure it’s nothing serious,” she reassured him with only a hint of a strain in her voice, forcing a soft smile on her face, trying her damn hardest not to alarm the boy more than needed. “How about you return to sleep instead of worrying, honey? He’ll definitely return by the time you’re awake again.” For the longest moment, Hiro just stood there, frowning at her in uncertainty. Then, he sighed and turned back to return to his room. “Fine, fine, just… wake me up when he returns, okay?” “Of course,” she nodded absently, near sighing in relief when her nephew’s shadow disappeared and the door to his (just Hiro’s now, no longer shared with Tadashi) room closed. Understandably, Tadashi didn’t return from SFIT that night either. Not that Hiro remembered about the conversation the next morning.

***

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only case of Hiro straight up forgetting that his brother was no longer there, as Cass has quickly come to learn in the following weeks. No matter how awake and coherent he was, the fact just kept magically slipping the boy’s mind every now and then, leaving him especially confused whenever he caught her planning Tadashi’s funeral. Hiro always asked who died. Cass didn’t always have the strength to lie to him. He never believed her in the end when she didn’t. They kept going back and forth with this, and eventually she started to notice that there were much less times when he remembered about his brother’s passing than when he didn’t. It was already genuinely concerning at this stage, but frankly, Cass didn’t have the strength, nor the resources to find him a therapist at the time, because clearly he was in some extreme amount of denial to keep going for weeks. In a way, she was even jealous of him. She didn’t have the luxury of not living her every day in the constant pain of the loss. In a way, she was almost grateful for it. At least he didn’t have to deal with this too. She was used to the loss, in a way. She really didn’t want Hiro to be used to it too. She didn’t want him to hurt like she did. Maybe it was for the best that he didn’t remember.

***

It all came crashing down on the day of Tadashi’s funeral. The morning already started with the rain, as if the mood in the cafe and among the small group of people inside wasn’t already bad enough. Cass offered Hiro to sit this day out the very moment he walked out of the room, honestly not looking forward to explaining the funeral of his brother who was supposed to be very much alive from her nephew’s perspective. He refused, utter confusion showing on his face as he spotted the picture on the other end of the hall. “Why didn’t you tell me we were hosting a funeral for someone? Was, uh… was he a family friend?” Crash. Both of them whipped their heads in the direction of the noise, finding Gogo frozen over a shattered glass of water on the floor, raised hand shaking violently. It only took a fraction of a second for three sets of hands to wrap around her arms and shoulders, keeping her grounded in one spot as her eyes darted towards Hiro. Cass was almost certain she actually heard her teeth grinding against each other as she locked eyes with her nephew, the latter only staring at her in confusion with a slight hint of concern. “Family friend?” The young woman seethed, easily ignoring the strong grip on her as she stared Hiro down, which made him take a cautious step back. He didn’t even realize why she reacted like this. Cass bit her lip, standing between them as she carefully shook her head in Gogo’s direction. “Let’s just… can we talk about it in your room, Hiro?” She suggested quietly, already nudging him towards the stairs, biting back a sigh of relief when her nephew didn’t object and silently went upstairs, this time ignoring the glare pointed at him. When she went back down half an hour later, jaw clenched from the effort not to cry on the spot, the shattered glass was already cleared off the floor and all four of Tadashi’s friends moved to another room, sitting in silence, clearly having had a talk of their own about… something she didn’t really want to ask about. “Hiro won’t be attending the funeral with us,” the woman stated flatly, leaning on the closest wall with a sigh. “I don’t… Please try to be patient here if he brings it up later. I know it’s hard, trust me, I know, but this is taking a toll on him too. He might not be able to really grieve like us because he doesn’t even remember about Tadashi’s death most of the time these days, but it’s still scary for him. Every time, every single time he has to get explained that he’s not coming back, and every time it breaks him. We had time to at least try and get used to the thought of Tadashi not coming back from the fire. But Hiro? For him, it’s hearing the news for the first time, every time. So if he finally forgot enough to think that we’re having a funeral for a family friend? I say let him. At least this way it’s less painful for him.” For a minute it was deafeningly quiet in the room as the five exchanged glances between each other. Cass didn’t bring up how Gogo didn’t meet her eyes. “Point is, we all miss Tadashi,” she continued with a sigh. “Can we at least not make it harder than it already is for each other?” To this, they all agreed. This was already hard enough as it was. Nobody brought up how Hiro didn’t say a word about Tadashi for the rest of the day. He kept forgetting more.

***

For as long as Hiro could remember, he’s always been an only child. Which admittedly wasn’t exactly the longest time. He’d recently come to realize that more than a half of his life was missing from his memory, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t possibly get it right. What was this big thing in his life that was suddenly gone and, probably even more importantly, why wasn’t it there? He had genuinely no idea. Which made it all just even more confusing because he could tell others were missing this part too. Except, unlike him, they remembered what it was. He could tell by the way they looked at him every time he tried to ask what was wrong. So far, the most reaction he got was from his Aunt Cass who simply broke down crying on his second try. Hiro decided against asking her more after somehow managing to help her calm down. He couldn’t help but tense at some customer who kept glaring daggers at him for the last couple of weeks, their small group of four frequenting the coffee shop. The boy could count the days the group didn’t come more easily than when they did, there was barely a day missed this month. He chalked up the annoying tug of familiarity in their faces to this very fact with practiced ease as he walked out of his home to run some errands, a robot tagging along with him as usual. That was… another confusing thing. Baymax. The healthcare companion, in the robot’s own words. Hiro knew he didn’t build him, he was too far from his area, but he honestly couldn’t remember how this walking marshmallow appeared in his bedroom and why wasn’t it leaving him. Not that he minded the company too much, it’s not like many people talked to him anyway and he appreciated the help with carrying heavy stuff where his noodle arms were useless. Besides, Baymax kept him safe when he forgot about his surroundings again, lost in thoughts. Hiro found out that he didn’t space out as much before from the robot not too long ago, which was backed up by Aunt Cass as well when he nearly burned himself with spilled coffee. He found it hard to ignore her obvious exhaustion from something she couldn’t explain, but he learned the hard way that there were topics that he was just not supposed to push so as to not upset her. Which, again, was pretty damn hard, considering that there were a lot of photos with a man unknown to Hiro, and while he himself only got headaches from looking at them and trying to remember just who this person was and why was he important enough to take up that much space in their home, he knew that his Aunt got upset every time she looked at those. For some reason. But what irked Hiro the most was the fact that he knew that everyone, including Aunt Cass and that little friend group and even just regular customers, seemed to expect something from him. And again, not a single soul seemed to have any wish to elaborate what the hell he was doing wrong. He knew, or at least he guessed and didn’t have a better explanation than this guess, that this had at least something to do with his lost memories. Memories that he felt were there just a few months ago, as if they were taken out of him forcefully, all at once. For as long as Hiro could remember, he’s always been an only child. Which wasn’t a very long time, but he pushed this thought down along with the usual headache with practiced ease of someone who’s been dealing with this for weeks. The tug he felt in his brain as he swallowed another painkiller pill was only mildly annoying at this point. The sideway glances from those frequent customers didn’t feel as intimidating anymore. The photos didn’t stand out as much now either, his eyes already trained to avoid them, making it simpler to deal with everything. So what if he could barely remember his life anymore? Maybe it even was a good thing he couldn’t.

***

Hiro found himself staring at his Megabot for several minutes in a row again. He knew he was good at bot fighting, he had a very good robot for it and at least some of the memory of past fights too, albeit chopped in some places, usually towards the end of his tournaments. So why did the thought of going there again scared him so much? It wasn’t like he’d be completely on his own either, with him slowly upgrading Baymax to make him more suitable for, well, existing in a big city. No, there had to be something else he was missing… ah. That, again. It wasn’t the only fear he couldn’t easily explain, either. More than once, Aunt Cass has caught him off guard by cooking something with him in sight, especially when he was wearing headphones or distracted by Baymax. One time the sight of fire freaked him out so much for no reason, he could barely make it to the bathroom so that he wouldn’t puke on the kitchen floor. That was the time that he learned that he was genuinely afraid of fire, no matter how small it was. Perhaps, the worst instance had been with him witnessing a house fire on a way home. From what Hiro's learned later from Baymax when he was suddenly awake at home, he had a massive panic attack and passed out afterwards when it died down. He was glad to find out later that nobody was harmed in that fire. Not so much to learn that he still kept losing chunks of his memory after finding himself staring at his screen the next day, no recollection of the previous day whatsoever. He was honestly getting tired of all of this.

***

“I want to remember you. Why is it so hard to remember you?” Hiro couldn’t fall asleep again, thoughts plagued by the mysterious man whose photos were all over the place. It was getting easier to ignore those over time, but there were also nights like this when it kept bugging him until he simply gave up and tried to remember. Anything at all. Unsurprisingly, like every time before, nothing came to mind. Throughout the last weeks he’d come to have a vague idea of who the guy might be, the close family friend being the safest bet for now. He also supposed that he must have had an accident that got him into a hospital, or sickness, or something like that that would’ve warranted his absence. The group of people coming in almost every day must have been his friends. Still no clue about Baymax or whatever prompted his fears, though. With a groan, he snatched his phone from a night stand, opening the gallery app. For the past two months, he’s been avoiding looking far into his phone, afraid to find out something he was better off not remembering. This time the tug of a memory that was almost there had the better of him. He should probably also do something about his phone password he couldn’t remember to save his life and also kept forgetting to reset, only opening it with his fingerprint. Eh. That could wait probably. The first couple of minutes of scrolling through the camera roll was rather uneventful. Hiro was actually surprised that the vast majority of the photos in his gallery was related to either bot fighting or just robots in general. Most of it seemed like blueprints of something here and there, the more recent ones weirdly resembling the robot that still stood on his counter untouched. And then, there it was. He almost missed it with how fast the scrolling got at some point, but his eyes finally landed on a photo that dated back to last christmas. The man from the photos was there. In their home. There was so much snow inside for some reason and then there was Aunt Cass glaring at Tå͜dȧş͌ḫ̏i as he was probably the reason it was there in the first place. Weirdly enough, he could almost remember how his laugh sounded. Not his voice, not his name. Just the soft sheepish laugh that triggered the already expected tug in his brain whenever he saw his photos. That. That wasn’t just a family friend. Now that Hiro looked closely for once, he saw the resemblance the man had to his father, whom he didn’t remember all that much too except for, well. Photos. And if this was family too… oh. That actually explained a lot. “Did I have a brother all along?”

***

For the first time in months, Hiro woke up the next morning aware of the man’s existence and what he was to him. He had so much work to do and no time to lose. He needed to talk to a certain friend group.

***

The next several weeks were nothing short of a disaster. Hiro was genuinely convinced that he was going crazy when he saw the sticky note on his bathroom mirror, with Check the notebook written on it for the first time. Said notebook turned out to be a small blue thing he genuinely did not remember ever buying, titled Tadashi. For some reason the name made him feel sick before he even opened the first page. That he didn’t puke the very next moment was a pure miracle if you asked him. This is not your first time reading this. Ask Baymax if you don’t believe me and add a tally on the next page for me, okay? The short version is that you have a brother. Had. His name was Tadashi and he died not too long ago if you haven’t guessed already. For some reason you keep forgetting that, so I wrote down what I managed to find out, would be pretty nice if you manage to add to this at one point or another. For the future you. He was 21 and a SFIT student, and the group you keep seeing at the table by the window are his friends. Big one is Wasabi, the goofy one is Fred, the loud one is Honey Lemon and the angry one is Gogo. You knew them too at some point. They’re not worth trying to befriend again, you keep forgetting them anyway. Presumably the reason you’re so afraid of fires is because Tadashi died in one, apparently. No, it doesn’t get better. Or does very slowly, idk. Anyways, there was this big fire at the SFIT showcase. A man was still inside, Tadashi wanted to save him. Both didn’t make it. I guess you also hit your head at some point because there is a note on you having a concussion from that day. (reminder for later: ask Baymax if concussion can make you lose memory long-term) (apparently it can. huh. the more you know) (for some reason he also brought up dissociative amnesia?) It took a moment for Hiro to catch the reason behind the burn in his eyes. Shit, why was he crying already? It’s not like he even remembered the man existed literally an hour ago. He certainly didn’t get any sudden memories of him either… at least for now. Could this sinking feeling of pain count as a memory? He couldn’t focus on the words in the notebook for nearly another hour, getting so damn emotional every time. When he did, he finally noticed the tallies past him mentioned in the beginning, absentmindedly adding a line before even counting them. Huh. This was actually the tenth now, And he forgot every time he opened it. At least Baymax was still quiet. Small victories. “All right, let’s get this over with,” Hiro muttered to himself, opening the notebook yet again. So, about Baymax. Yes, it was Tadashi who made him. Yes, him following you is in his programming. No, I don’t know why, but probably because you’re terrible at keeping yourself safe otherwise. He was made as a semester project initially and then kept getting upgraded till the end. (Yes, he can scan the entire city now. It was a pretty fun project.) There are some photos of you together in the gallery. I put them in its own folder. Open it at your own risk, they give a killer headache when you get all emotional. Aunt Cass hates questions about Tadashi, which is fair enough I guess. But seriously, don’t ask her about him unless you want to seriously upset her. It’s not worth it. Oh yeah. The password. It’s 09172010. Yes it’s his birthday. Go celebrate it at one point or something. Good luck with the rest. - past you. p.s. I found his documentation and blueprints on Baymax in case you ever need those. The flash drive is in the back. Have fun. p.p.s. I left a backup of everything on a separate chip in him. just in case. Hiro exhaled through his nose slowly, closing the notebook in his lap. So, there was that. He used to have a brother, one he couldn’t remember because… concussion? Trauma? He didn’t know and frankly, didn’t want to think about it too much. And… yes, him being responsible for the severity of his memory loss made sense, he supposed, if his brain just wiped every trace of Tadashi in his life. A big part of him, the one seemingly coming out of its burial deep in his brain, was telling him that he should feel more than a little bad for the man now fully unfamiliar to him. That he was his family and his death has hurt many people, including him. Another, probably selfish now that he thought about it, part of him was grateful to have forgotten all about him. If one man’s death could devastate so many people so badly, he did not want any part in this. Surely the others would understand? Out of pure curiosity, Hiro picked up his phone, swiping up to see the password input field. He didn’t know how to feel about the fact that the password was correct.

***

It took a moment for Cass to catch on why she wanted to cry from the very moment she opened her eyes. Then she checked the date on her phone from the nightstand and suddenly, everything made more sense. Logically, she knew that Tadashi’s first birthday would be the hardest after everything. She’s already been through this, she really should’ve known. She could not be prepared for Hiro to knock on her door so early with breakfast in bed and an expression that looked almost guilty. It shouldn’t have alerted her as much as it did, but could one blame her with how he’s been lately? She almost got enough courage to ask him what all of this meant before the tray was placed in her lap and her nephew was already out the door, turning back at the last moment with a slight grimace on his face. “Take all the time you need, I’ll get the cafe started by myself. Do you think Miyazaki will be able to come in if I call her?” …huh. That was not what she expected at all. “I’ll call her myself,” she murmured numbly. “Thank you.” To this, Hiro just nodded and left the room altogether, leaving Cass in a stunned silence. After all these months, why did he remember him just now?

***

“It’s really not an issue, I’m glad to help out. Especially today.” Honey Lemon’s voice was much softer than he remembered. Perhaps it was the date, or maybe just the fact that it was still just 9 am and no sane person would be in the mood for much yelling at this time. Regardless, Hiro was thankful for both an extra pair of hands and the relative quiet in which they worked on the orders. “Thanks, really. I figured Aunt Cass could use a break today,” he muttered, setting another pot of coffee to brew. It was pretty slow for a Friday morning. Finding out that today was somehow important from a tattered notebook with signs of water damage he did not remember ever writing in was definitely… a fun thing to wake up to today. A little annoying, too, but the past him was very clear on just how important Tadashi was to everyone else. A small part of him found it almost funny how he dedicated a whole page to describing the conflicting feelings he probably felt every time he opened that notebook like it was the first time. He could not imagine telling the man’s friends that he only reliably knew of his existence like this. That Honey Lemon didn’t ask many questions about it was a nice bonus in his opinion. “So, how’s the semester going? I heard you had a new dean of students this year.” “Oh yeah!” She perked up, glad to change the subject. “Honestly, I expected worse with how worked up Wasabi was about her, but Professor Granville is pretty great once you get used to her. She’s certainly… stricter than what we’re all used to, but it’s not a bad thing!” “Mm… doesn’t sound like a lot of fun to me.” “Perhaps not, but she is a good professor,” Honey Lemon smiled fondly as she finished a foam kitten on a latte. “I’ve actually been working with her for a while ever since she introduced me to this girl, Karmi. I didn’t even know we had someone so young here! I think you would’ve gotten along, actually.” Hiro hummed to this absentmindedly, thoughts wandering to the notebook for a second. He has considered applying to SFIT before, apparently not for the first time too. Except, apparently, the last time he did ended horribly, ha. There still was the acceptance letter somewhere, though, must’ve been… well, not that it mattered in the end. All things considered, even if the letter was still valid, which it most likely was not, between Tadashi apparently having a reputation of a hero over there and his apparent memory problems he simply did not see himself going through a single semester peacefully. A pity, too, because the university did sound appealing to him. Oh well. “Good for you,” he shrugged after a moment of hesitation. He was pretty sure Honey Lemon didn’t even catch it as she took another order. Hiro poured himself probably his third cup of coffee this morning, looking out the window with a quiet sigh. This was going to be a long day here. Might as well use it as an opportunity to learn a little.

***

This notebook was driving him insane, Hiro realized on a random October morning after making it halfway through his own notes on a man he never knew existed. Why did it even matter so much to the past himself to find out as much as possible about this Tadashi guy? Sure, he had been his brother apparently, but it’s been months since his death and everyone has even given up on trying to get him to remember weeks ago, so why couldn’t he? “Hiro, I have noticed your elevated blood pressure—” “Shut up,” he gritted out bitterly. Why did it make him so mad, anyway? He wasn’t obligated to read through it, he could just go on with his day and pretend the notebook never existed. But that was exactly it, wasn’t it? It wasn’t even the fact that that was his brother Hiro had completely forgotten about, it was the knowledge he’s lost to whatever was wrong with his brain. And no matter what he did, no matter how much time he’s spent with this damn notebook, he would forget it every time and have to start over, so was there any point in all of this? Why even bother trying if his own mind refused to retain any of this information? “I’m going to take a walk,” he said, pushing himself up and walking out the door with the notebook still in his hands. He needed some air and to collect his thoughts.

***

The harbour was almost silent save for the sound of waves. It was so peaceful, Hiro wondered why he didn’t come here more often. Technically speaking, it’s not like he was supposed to be here in the first place but— who cared about that anyway? There were no guards or any real surveillance here, the place was all but inviting visitors. The notebook was an aggravating weight in his hand. Hiro wasn’t sure why he didn’t think to put it into a bag when he left, but honestly he may have just forgotten. Again. He couldn’t even bring himself to be mad at himself for this anymore, if anything he was just… tired, probably. Of his brain not working properly, of all this fog in it, of the headache that got to him every time he tried to reach through it for a hint of a single memory, of Tadashi. He was so tired of trying to keep any memory of a man who was less than a ghost to him. Maybe his stupid brain had a point when it erased any trace of him from itself. All he knew was that he was, he died, and remembering brought pain to everyone involved, so why did he even bother? Maybe it was better if he stopped trying at last. Despite himself, Hiro opened the notebook again when he was just a few steps away from falling into water, looking over his own handwriting with a strange mix of tired anger and something probably most akin to grief. From what he knew, he wasn’t even at Tadashi’s funeral back when it happened. This felt as close as it gets. He had half a mind to get rid of the flash drive too, and yet it went into his pocket before the thought of protest was fully formed in his mind. He’ll just need to remember to go over it and make it as impersonal as possible when he gets home. With a final sigh, he closed the notebook and gripped it in his hands to the point of the cover creasing under the pressure. A part of him was terrified of doing it. The part that hoped to one day remember without the help of the notebook. But another, much bigger part of him was too tired to hold onto it. Hiro was so tired, more than he could consciously grasp. He wasn’t getting better. Everyone’s given up on trying to help him, everyone was fine with letting him stay in the dark, to let Tadashi remain forgotten by him, so why should he resist? If anything, maybe he’d finally find peace like this. Breathe in. Breathe out. A swing. A throw. A wave of sea water. And just like that, Tadashi was gone. Hiro couldn’t bring himself to say his goodbye out loud before turning on his heel and starting the slow walk back home, pulling out his phone to delete several folders in his gallery. Better not give himself any unnecessary reminders if he could help it.

***

For as long as Hiro could remember, he’s always been an only child. Which admittedly wasn’t exactly the longest time, but something he learned to live with. He had Baymax to help him navigate on worse days and keep him out of harm’s way and a bottle of painkillers always in arm’s reach for when the headaches got too bad. He had his aunt who loved him and his robots to keep him occupied. Everything was fine. The man in the photos around the house didn’t bother him nearly as much as he vaguely remembered him to use to. Neither did the people who frequented the cafe and gave him these strange looks every time they visited. He learned to ignore any sense of discomfort it gave him sometimes, and what he couldn’t ignore now, he would forget soon enough. And weirdly, Hiro was content with it.