This is a gift to my sister, Kinder Veil. And let me just say, I am so glad that I got you hooked on this.

Readers, keep in mind that, technically speaking, all characters are canon- I just provided them with names.

It's a normal day.

Hiro wakes up with as much enthusiasm as usual, bleary-eyed and groaning. He stumbles out of bed and to the bathroom just as he always does, tripping over the previous day's project that had been left scattered across his floor. He slips on his favorite hoodie and walks downstairs to have breakfast, combing his fingers half-heartedly through his bird nest of hair.

He goes through the entire day as if it were like any other; he helps around the cafe, plays a game of catch with Baymax, procrastinates on homework and goes over some new updates for Fred's new flamethrower. It's only when he's setting down to watch a movie with his aunt that it's interrupted by a call.

An urgent call in which Gogo gives him the bare necessities- as is per her usual- of a breaking and entering of one of San Fransokyo's oldest museums in Middleton. A potential robbery in the making.

Standard really.

But he makes the necessary excuses and leaves his Aunt Cass to watch their latest horror movie endeavor with only Mochi as company, grabbing the almost reluctant Baymax with him. And within minutes of the call he's suited up and into the air, the moon (and Baymax's built in guidance system) guiding their way.

The looting of the museum has already started when the entirety of Big Hero 6 finally arrives on the spot; Gogo skids into existence as Baymax lands and together they watch (Gogo impatiently and Hiro exasperated) as Wasabi drives in with his pristine car, Honey Lemon and Fred (suit and all) buckled safely within its metal frames, and parallel parks with impeccable care in front of the building.

Together they enter, brandishing their tech and, in Fred's case, dramatically announcing their presence.

What they see isn't expected, isn't standard.

Its women, faces heavily painted and wearing colorful kimonos, on roller skates.

There's a moment where each party just stares, blinking in surprise at the sight of the other. It's almost comical and Hiro would have laughed if not for the expensive looking artifacts halfheartedly hidden behind one of the women's back.

"Woah, is there a roller derby in town?" Fred asks, voice too loud for the spacious double room of the entrance. "'Cause I'm totally down for a game."

Like a rubber band that had been stretched, everything- everyone snaps into motion.

Gogo is the first, speeding off to the back of the room and taking a swing at the tallest of the women. The vase in her arms flies through the air- its arch interrupted when Fred jumps and snatches it, cradling it like a football. The costume bends awkwardly as the comic nerd twists mid jump, barely avoiding a metallic fan that cuts through the air in the sole purpose of slicing flesh.

A girl with a parasol, spikes dangerously shooting out of its frame, takes a swing at Wasabi. The young man leans back to evade the attack, so far that he falls to the floor; he yelps when the butt of the weapon speeds toward his face, barely blocked by his laser blades. He gets to his feet and bounces on them, hands whirling in an attempt to frighten his opponent- she isn't impressed by what Hiro can see, dead eyes blinking slowly as she slides into a fighting stance.

Honey Lemon spins and dodges a swing from a spiked bat that's being brandished by a giggling woman, slender hand trailing to her purse and catching a bright yellow ball that shoots out of it. She glances up and meets Hiro's eyes, mouth opening to-

Suddenly, Hiro is falling from his perch on Baymax's back, something catching around his ankle and pulling hard. He hits the ground, twisting and shakes off the pressure, jumping to his feet to take on the attack head on.

His attacker is smaller than the rest, so petite that it's a wonder she can even carry the weapon (a spiked ball on a chain) in her grasp. Her blonde hair, more like corn than Honey Lemon's dusty color, contrasts with her companions, setting her apart in how young it makes her appear. Her kimono is such a bright pink that Hiro feels the need to look away- though it's a good thing he doesn't or he'd be sporting an impressive sized hole in the side of his face.

She swings the flail in the air like it's a lasso of death and the teenager follows its path with his eyes, muscles tense and ready. So when its radius increases in size Hiro knows the exact time he should throw himself to the ground and roll to the left, the ball slamming heavily into the ground where his face use to be.

"Who are these guys?" Wasabi yells, words spoken in a higher pitch than usual, as he jabs at his opponent.

"Fujitas," Gogo says, taking a pause in her time as being a yellow blur, to respond. "Some of Yama's cronies."

"We're not cronies!" The one in pink calls out indignantly, pulling the spiked ball and chips of the marble out of the ground. "And at least we aren't weirdos in stupid costumes."

Chains wrap around Hiro's torso, painfully digging into the junction where his shoulder and neck meet, as he is making a break for Baymax, who tromps his way over with urgency. He's tugged backwards, spinning into the length of chain.

"Baymax," he calls and is almost smug when a giant fist disconnects from the robot's arm and shoots across half the room, straight into the unsuspecting face of the blonde. She moves a little too late and it clips her in the shoulder, sending her sprawling back.

Hiro quickly unravels himself, chains clattering to the floor. He gives the girl a tight lipped smile, "I don't know- you look like a weirdo in a stupid costume to me."

He turns, mouth open to order Baymax to tie the Fujita up, when he catches sight of one of the Fujitas, this one with an eyepatch, tackling Gogo as she's making a turnabout.

Baymax seems to understand the same time Hiro does as the two crash through three cases just shy of the robot with no intention of stopping.

"Oh no."

Gogo and the women collide into Baymax's hip with enough force to topple the armored robot over.

There's a pair of loud curses, nearly drowning out the polite apology Baymax voices as he tries to reduce the damage done and keep control of his momentum- however, the laws of physics are not on his side, dragging him down and crashing into a wall.

The museum foundation shakes with the force, resulting in cases and stands holding priceless artifacts wobbling dangerously.

The fighting stops, the threat of falling on one's face of greater importance than the ongoing battle. Hiro himself stumbles, hands splayed out to maintain balance and eyes wide as saucers as he takes in his surroundings.

Fred is flat on his back like a turtle who's had a bad day, seeking help from a swaying Honey; eventually they get him on his feet only for one of the women to roll clumsily into him, knocking them down. Wasabi and, surprisingly enough, the Fujitas he was fighting are struggling to steady a large statue of a snarling lion that's teetering on its pillar.

There's a rattling coming from his right and when Hiro looks he spots a giant case of pottery (easily half Baymax's height) about to tip over. His quick mind does the calculations, following the trajectory of the falling object, and pinpoints its final displacement. He understands that if he takes two steps to the left and three back he'll be out of immediate danger.

The same cannot be said for the blonde girl standing, dazed, at its base.

A memory flashes through his head, quicker than even Gogo and just as painful as watching his best friend float away from him and into the unknown abyss of portal. This memory, scarred with despair and what could have been, recalls that a certain baseball cap wearing individual hadn't gone down in flames, but, rather, by the crushing blow of a fallen pillar. It's a memory Hiro finds that he doesn't want repeated.

Hiro lunges and they both go down in a tangle of limbs, skidding across the polished floor and out of range of the falling display, which crashes against the ground in a blizzard of glass and broken clay. His helmet somehow falls off in the fray, leaving him unprotected against the glass shards that cut the skin of his cheek or the bruise that will undoubtedly form on his cheekbone as it bangs against the girl's shoulder. He hears the concerned voices of his friends in the background, hands far too full in their own renewed fights to help.

When it is all over he lifts himself up and off the girl, involuntarily asking if she's alright- a habit that's been ingrained into his head just as it is encoded in Baymax's hard drive. There is no answer and he thinks that maybe she's been hit, fallen unconscious with the impact; he's already calling for Baymax when he looks down.

Grey-blue eyes stare back at him, wide and bright in the settling dust.

Hiro blinks.

The heavy footfalls of Baymax shake the ground as he approaches, not at all bothered by the glass crunching under his weight. There's an inquiry of health, voice gliding over the sound of fighting smoothly.

But, before Hiro has time to even think about answering, the girl underneath him knees him and he goes down, groaning.

"Let's move!" Hiro barely registers the call from one of the other Fujitas, too focused he is in struggling to his feet. Baymax provides him a helping hand, armored hands ever gentle.

He watches as the blonde rolls to her own skate-littered feet, snatching the nearest object, a dusty looking map behind broken glass, and bolts. He makes a feeble attempt to go after her, but she ducks and he uncoordinatedly trips over the remains of a vase and takes a tumble into Baymax's leg.

By the time he regains himself, they are gone in a hasty retreat, rolling out of the building in a flurry of kimonos and stolen goods, flying past the surprised police stationed outside. There's a round gunshots and even maniacal laughter, then a hectic silence that is eventually broken by the loud revving of engines.

Gogo speeds off without even a moment of hesitation, leaving them to scramble onto Baymax's back before he takes to the air.

But by the time they catch up, the cops are at a lost, chasing die that have already been cast. There is no sign of the Fujitas, gone like the shadows as the sun rises, and Gogo kicks over a trashcan in her frustration.

So, they head home with failure a bitter taste in their mouths.

It is the first of many abnormal days to come.

They're dealing with a runaway trolley when it first happens.

It's a cacophony of panicked screams and car horns following the vehicle as it tears down one of San Fransokyo's main streets.

Hiro is hurriedly deposited aboard the thing by an airborne Baymax, who flies parallel to the trolley as a safety net. Hiro pushes past the clutter of panicked civilians and conductor, inspecting the jammed emergency break- he tugs on it experimentally and curses like a sailor when the thing breaks from its anchor unexpectedly.

"Brakes a bust!" He calls, leaning out the side. "Baymax, drastic measures, go!"

The robot immediately flies to the front and braces against it, his giant form blocking the afternoon sun in how it takes up the entirety of the window. As soon as his rocket thrusters come online the trolley lurches, sending Hiro tumbling forward into a pole painfully; the civilians had all listened to his earlier instructions of bracing themselves and are left relatively unharmed.

Past the rush of wind as it whips around him Hiro can hear Baymax's report- even with maximum thrust, it still isn't enough to equate the opposing force of the trolley.

Hiro thinks then, "Honey!"

"On it!" Comes the excited call, far closer than expected. The tall girl's perky face drops into view by the side door, a drastic contrast to the fierce mask of Fredzilla- of whom is carrying the girl bridal style as he keeps up with the runaway trolley with his super jumps. She points dramatically forward, fingers of her other hand flying across the screen of her purse, "Let's go, Freddie!"

He doesn't see the gooey substance her chemical reaction produces sticking to the wheels, but he sure does feel it. The ride gets a whole lot more bumpy, but the acceleration decreases significantly enough that Hiro can distinguish the blur of colors of the outside world is into set shapes.

A second later, he spots Honey pulling herself out of Fred's arms and into a (barely) speeding car. She waves at him from beside Wasabi, who gives a call of caution to everyone as he swerves around a bicyclist caught in the chase, blinkers flashing with unrefined dignity. They are soon lost among the convulsing traffic.

"Gogo, Fred," he speaks into the comm built in his helmet, "you're on street patrol. Make sure nothing and no one get in the way."

"Got it, little dude!" The science enthusiast exclaims, overshadowing Gogo's own affirmative. "Fredzilla to the rescue!"

If Hiro leans just so he can see around Baymax and watch as Fred and Gogo goes about clearing the path with impressive speed and efficiency; Fred snatches people from their early demise of being roadkill and leaps (probably higher than what's actually necessary) out of the way and Gogo's weaves in and out of oncoming traffic, handling close calls that leave even Hiro breathless.

However, he isn't given long to admire their work, not when the trolley suddenly lurches one way and Hiro finds himself falling through the open doorway.

He twists mid fall, gloved hand reaching and missing the railing.

Everything slows down.

Baymax is turning his head and Hiro can see one of his large arms start to lift. He can see Fred high above him, holding a screaming woman who can't tear her eyes from the ground. He can see Gogo, bent forward as she moves, begin to twist out of the way of a minivan filled with a startled family. He sees the trajectory of the van and understands that it will lead it straight to him if he falls.

He blinks, once, long and slow.

With how everything is near frozen, it's surprising when a hand shoots out from nowhere, fast as a viper, and grasps his wrist. Grabs his wrist and tugs with a force strong enough to have him tumbling back into the trolley.

His head bangs against the floor, his brain all but scrambled when he looks up at the concerned faces of the passengers. His dizzy mind comprehends the pressure against his back and head, holding him close as the ride gets more unstable and dangerous, but doesn't have the sense to identify who it is.

There's a high pitched squealing and drawn out groan coming from every direction. The trolley, Hiro's mind figures out after a good minute, is slowing down exponentially. It comes to a tripping halt moments later and the pressure on his body is lifted, retreating into the distance of fog Hiro can't get his mind to resolve.

"Hiro." The voice of Baymax slithers its way through the fog when he's trying to pick himself up, seeing double when he looks up. "I have stopped the vehicle- you and the passengers are no longer in any immediate danger. However, even without my scanning system, I am able to infer that you are in need medical assistance."

He is lifted up, head spinning at the sudden increase in elevation, and is vaguely aware of rising into the air with Baymax as his friends deal with the aftermath- terrified civilians and eager reporters alike.

When they're in the safety of his garage a little while later Baymax diagnoses him with a mild concussion.

Treatment of rest is prescribed and immediately and effectively ensured by the nursebot, who sentences him to bed rest for the following two days and constant vigilance for the following three.

It's not until much later that he's labeled healthy enough to go about his day without the supervision of one of his friends or nanny bot at any given time. He takes the time to collect his thoughts and catch up on the latest news.

Even days after the incident of the runaway trolley they're still showcased in all the newspapers and on every news channel; there are many witnesses and no casualties, a story emerging from these two factors alone. Big Hero 6, though shrouded by mystery and speculation, are branded heroes. It's an average day with an even more average outcome.

A story with a happy ending, Hiro thinks proudly, is the most anyone can ask for.

He's walking to school, just crossing a bridge arching over a koi pond, when he feels it, the tiny needles prickling the back of his neck.

So, naturally, he turns to stare down whoever is staring at him, face locking into the stern mask he's adopted from Gogo- though, if he's entirely honest with himself, it doesn't have the same effect, his face a bit too boyish to truly look menacing. But, still, he presses his lips together and sets his squinting eyes roaming.

The curvy pathway he's walking along is relatively empty, looking positively serene and alive with the in bloom sakura trees framing the dirt road, swaying in the slight breeze. He can just barely see SFIT in the distance between two trees, light reflecting off it's surface and shining brilliantly.

He turns to the left, where there stands a cluster of trees. Petals fall with delicate grace into the shade, littering the ground there.

He purses his lips and makes to take a step-

"Oh, hi, Hiro! Hi!"

The voice comes from behind him, distracting him.

Honey Lemon, in heels as bright and high as the sun in the sky, is skipping toward him; she towers over him (even with the added height he's accumulated over the last two years he still has to crane his neck to properly look her in the face) when she finally makes it to his side. She hugs him enthusiastically, as if they hadn't seen each other in ages instead of just yesterday- he responds accordingly, returning the embrace with a smile that has her squealing at how adorable he is and how soon he'll have to beat all the girls away with a stick.

He laughs at that.

There's an answering noise from the trees, sounding suspiciously like a squeak, but Hiro brushes it off as one of the squirrels he frequently sees running through the foliage and turns his attention back to his friend.

Honey joins him when he starts walking again, adjusting her pace to match to his and explaining that she's going the same way. Hiro listens to her happy chatter, most of it nonsensical stuff about her planned experiments for the day or what she thinks about a new line of clothing brand, and offers small murmurs of agreement/disagreement whenever needed.

Eventually she inquires about Baymax and he tells her of the new upgrades he has planned, eagerly explaining the schematics of them.

Content as he is, he doesn't notice the flash of pink- something that definitely isn't sakura- disappear between the trees.

He's head deep into the engineering notes in his hands as he makes his way home. As engrossed as he is, he doesn't pay attention to the bodies bumping into him or the cacophony of city life, which fades into background music.

It's probably the reason he doesn't notice the light change and the lines of cars perpendicular to him push forward as he takes an oblivious step forward.

There's a loud blaring noise of a horn and a sudden pull on the hood of his jacket.

He falls backwards, papers slipping out of his surprised hold and catching onto the wind, just as a large truck races through the intersection. A man leans out of the passenger side and yells back a, "Watch it, kid!"

Hiro blinks up at the people lingering about teetering on the edge of worry for him and desire to get back to their own lives. Most determine he's fine within a span of seconds and carry on their way, crossing the street and the very spot where the teenager almost found himself becoming roadkill.

And, after a moment, he picks himself off the dirty ground, inspecting his scraped palms and inwardly groaning because Baymax is for sure going to notice. Then the world snaps back and he is scrambling to pick up all his papers, sticking his tongue out in disgust when he sees that one landed in a puddle of something. Then he is rolling them up and, looking both ways, hurrying across the street. He sends one final look back, for what he doesn't know- maybe hoping to catching a glimpse of the person who saved his life?

But he doesn't see anyone, just a single mass of indistinguishable people and cars bustling through the packed streets.

He shakes his head and chalks it up as nothing, the simple act of a good samaritan, and moves on, thinking that that will be the last of it.

It's funny, really, how wrong he is.

The cash register in the cafe breaks the Friday following his dance with Death and Aunt Cass is a bundle of stress and worry when Hiro finally returns from school that afternoon.

He sets Baymax up for an update in the garage and then gets to work immediately.

Both the drawer and the receipt dispenser are jammed he soon diagnoses. Nails dig into the crevices of the machine, peeling away its casing and allowing him to inspect its internal workings. He leans over the thing, pulling with all his might before the metal is no longer caught on an intermediate wheel and the drawer springs open.

He crows with success, allowing himself a small lapse of satisfaction, before he moves onto the other problem. A simple fix, he decides, looking over the roll of paper and how its crinkled and twisted. Agile fingers reach inside the machine and steadily pull at the paper, cranking the levers and wheels back in the process.

It's then, hunched over his work, that a drink is deposited on the counter next to his elbow and a shadow is cast over the register.

He doesn't look up. "Line's over there," his chin juts to the left where his aunt is taking customers with their older model register.

Silence.

Eyebrows furrow, "If you don't mind, can you move? You're blocking my ligh-" He stops when he looks up and catches a glimpse of the figure who's been acting as his own personal shade for the evening.

Blonde and petite, a girl around his age stands in front of him. And though she's no longer wearing her kimono or trying to pulverize his head in with a giant metal ball, Hiro recognizes her immediately as one of the Fujitas from the museum.

He jerks back, tripping over his own feet and nearly taking the register with him, just barely saving his aunt from needing a costly replacement- though he does knock his elbow painfully on the glass display next to him, unsettling the cupcakes inhabiting it. He curses, loudly.

"Hiro!" Aunt Cass admonishes from across the room. "I better not hear that again or- I'm so sorry for the wait, here's your order. Have a nice day," she smiles charmingly at a customer, waving a goodbye, before a switch is flipped and she is again leveling a stern look at Hiro. "And you can talk to your friend later, after you're done."

Hiro makes to argue, "She's not my-"

But his aunt is no longer listening, her back to him as she greets another customer.

Leaving him with quite a situation.

He turns his attention back to the girl, a bright pink smudge against the warm background of the cafe, who stares back innocently. She gives him a closed mouth smile and raises her shoulders in a not-shrug.

"Hi," she says.

His eyes narrow, suspicious. He's still partially leaning back. "Hello?"

"Whatcha doing?" She asks him conversationally (as if she hadn't tried running him through the last time they met), motioning toward the machine in front of him.

He glanced down and quickly pulled the thing closer to him, it scraping against the counter. "Work..." Eyebrows draw together, confused at his response and the readiness it was provided. "It's, uh, broken... so I'm fixing it."

"Ah."

She nods, leaning forward to peer curiously at the machine; Hiro leans further back in response, his spine groaning in protest. There's a few seconds of (uncomfortable) silence where Hiro waits for her to say something, maybe even provide a well-needed explanation, but nothing of the sort arises.

"Uh... Not to be rude or anything," Hiro's tone says the opposite, mixed heavily with a confusion that he hasn't felt in years, "but is there... a reason you're, you know... here?"

She looks up at him, pink that matches her flowy shirt pooling into her cheeks, and takes a step back. Hiro watches her, as if she is an unknown variable in one of his equations, unblinking as she blunders through. "Ijustthoughtyouwerereallycuteandniceand... wanted to talk... to you... without... weapons."

His eyebrows rise into his hairline. "What?"

"What."

"What did you just say?"

"What- nothing." She gives him a look, squinty eyes and chin receding into her neck, gesturing offhandedly behind her. "All I heard was someone asking for a cinnamon bun and a tall glass of water."

"Um, okay." His nose wrinkles in confusion. "But why-"

"Hiro, is that thing fixed yet?" His aunt breaks into the conversation. "Cause I'm running on borrowed time right now."

Hiro looks over and sees his aunt desperately looking around the counter-for change, Hiro thinks. In front of her stands a customer that continues to glance impatiently at his watch.

Then he looks down, at the still broken machine, and cringes.

"Guess you're a bit busy, huh," the girl speaks up and Hiro has a witty comment to throw at her, something that will leave her wheeling in the brilliance of his mass intellect, but she's already moving on. "I'll come again tomorrow, when you have time to hang."

He opens his mouth, to say something- anything. To dissuade her with words of how he, the city's hero, couldn't possibly 'hang out' with her, a criminal? To inform her that he wouldn't be here when she came by, having promised Honey to stop by and help her study for an upcoming exam? To ask why about the sudden interest in him? To implore that she stay, for surely the register would be fixed in no time? All possible answers to a question that has infinitely many.

But she's already walking away, offering a wiggle of her fingers in means of a goodbye, and out the door before Hiro even has time to emerge out of his jumbled thoughts.

He stares after her for a full minute, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on while simultaneously trying to ignore the small flicker of intrigue sparking in him. Though another call from his aunt pulls him out of his thoughts and into his forgotten work.

And as he snaps the roll of receipt paper back into the machine he thinks to himself that he likely won't see her again.

But, true to her word and false to his thinking, she shows up against the next day.

And the day after.

And the week after.

She comes so often that Aunt Cass labels her as a regular, smiling when she mentions her to Hiro, calling her 'a sweet girl'; the girl, whose name he refuses to remember, only offers a dimpled smile and a polite thanks, sending his aunt into another whirlwind of eccentric talk in her favor. Hiro doesn't have the heart, or the mind, to tell her how such a sweet girl rolls around downtown San Fransokyo doing notorious crime.

Though it is almost too much when his aunt gives him this weird, knowing smile whenever the blonde enters the establishment and directs her to wherever Hiro is (who is summoned from their house's depths when he isn't already there).

He always tries to get out of it, edging toward the nearest door with excuses pouring out of his mouth like honey into tea, each varying degrees of elaborate and desperate. But every excuse is foiled by either a lenient Aunt Cass who talks of 'being young' and 'living life while you still can' or a smiling blonde that simply follows him when he attempts to make his escape (he would be impressed by her determination if he wasn't so exasperated at the situation in general).

His friends, usually so dependable, are suspiciously absent and 'too busy' with upcoming midterms (which are a good three months away). He tries not to get too snippy with them when they not-so-subtlety dodge any attempts to help and, even more aggravating, do little to hide their amusement of his predicament; Wasabi, of all people, bursts into an uncontrollable fit of laughter when he first hears of it (Hiro leaves the lab in a huff when the burly man trips over his own bench, unchecked tears streaming down his face).

Even Gogo, with her hard exterior and even harsher (though good in nature) interior, finds no problem in the situation. She just sends him a salute- a last farewell to a fallen comrade- and an amused smirk whenever the girl arrives, strutting away with no qualms whatsoever. The one time he had mentioned the possibility of danger, of being choked to death with one of Aunt Cass's hand crochet pillows when they're alone, the Korean had let out a bark of laughter; she had stated having an acquaintance with the roller skating woman, explaining to a gaping Hiro that sometimes it was hard staying on the right side of law.

"It's fair game when they're in the act," Gogo had said when he had mentioned her earlier determination in apprehending them, an uncharacteristic thoughtful (vulnerable) look on her face, "but, sometimes good people are forced to do bad things and I'm not gonna punish them for something that they may or may not do again." Here she shrugged. "People change."

Hiro had playfully teased her then, to make light of a conversation that they both had become uncomfortable with, though he had shut up immediately when she had mentioned the fact that the bot fights he had so regularly attended years before weren't exactly crystal clean either.

So, eventually he turns to the only person who he knows will side with him.

Baymax.

The robot, always a good- if not eager- listener, stands and watches quietly as Hiro gets ready for bed and talks. He lets the teenager talk to his heart's content, blowing off some well needed steam, not even uttering so much as a peep of interruption.

Shutter optics blink in a carefully set pattern, the humanistic nature of it involuntarily egging Hiro. So, with not an ounce of hesitation, the young genius tells the robot all about his latest headache- a headache with blonde hair and almond-shaped eyes and a fondness for the color pink (explaining carefully that no, Baymax, it's just an expression- it's a metaphor, cause, see, she's the- no, you know what, never mind).

Baymax always has a few carefully selected words that leaves his mind cool and clear, offering advice (though not always the best) and a logical, almost humorous point of view on the subject.

And when the nursebot finally gathers all the data Hiro has to offer, he analyzes the information and gives a diagnosis: an intense fondness that may manifest into something of more passionate characteristics. At Hiro's blank look, the robot elaborates.

"Love."

Hiro nearly pokes his eyes out with his toothbrush, choking on toothpaste and hastily said confutations.

"What? No, that's not-" He coughs, waving a hand when a mechanical hands gently, but firmly, pats his back. When he speaks next, mouth rinsed and wiped dry with the back of his hand, his voice is a mere croak, "I don't think that's it."

"But my data implies-"

"I know, I know," Hiro interrupts, brushing away the thought and all its absurdities and impossibilities in nature. "But, let me tell you- you may have over four thousand medical procedures downloaded, but they have nothing on this," he knocks on his head, "I'm a genius, remember? So, trust me on this, buddy. It's not lo- that."

Baymax blinks- once, twice, three times- and Hiro swears he can see the robot thinking. Then, "I must gather more information of the subject of human emotions and relationships. What I currently have on file seems to be outdated."

Hiro laughs at that, lightly punching the robot's shoulder before crawling under the covers of his bed. "We'll do that first thing tomorrow, buddy, then you'll see."

"If you say so, Hiro."

Big Hero 6 gets a call to break up an illegal gathering of San Fransokyo's most infamous criminals.

They show up to the indicated meeting place and, sure enough, they barge right into an underground congregation of the baddest of the bad.

It's utter chaos and there are weapons flying through the air, yells that reverberate against the walls, and people tumbling into one another in their effort to run/attack. On more than one occasion Hiro lets his guard down and is subjugated to a punch here and shove there. He can't even duck under Baymax- the robot's giant frame is more of an inconvenience in the tight space, squishing people against the walls and one another with an impartialness that doesn't disclude the team.

But eventually they settle it, and with a handful of individuals ready to be put behind bars to boot.

However, as they watch police officers push the apprehended criminals into the back of their car, three of whom are familiar looking women sporting roller-skates on their feet, Hiro can't help but acknowledge a small fact.

Throughout the entire fray, a particular blonde head is missing.

Hiro's working on some homework in the kitchen of the cafe, legs swinging as he sits on the counter with a textbook in hand, when his friends arrive. One hand reaches idly for a cookie, not the first he's snatched by the look of the half eaten pan next to him, as the other quickly scribbles something down.

"Hiro!" Honey Lemon's always the first to greet, her bubbly personality uncontainable.

The teenager smiles, offering a quick "Hey, guys," but doesn't look up from his work.

The other's don't seem to mind it though, familiar enough to his habits as they are. Instead, they settle around him, chatting about this and that; visiting simply for the benefit of the company. He's content in that moment, listening to Fred and Honey Lemon's babbling, Gogo's sharp wit and Wasabi's sputtering. Content to sit just there and enjoy the calm.

"Oh yeah, where's your aunt?" Wasabi asks, slapping away Fred's hand which had been drifting toward his plate of snacks; the science enthusiast isn't deterred, repeating the action a second and a third time, only for the same results. "We didn't see her out there- Fred, I swear, just get your own cookies."

"At some baking convention- she'll be back tomorrow," Hiro tells them idly, erasing half an equation and scribbling another in its place. "I'm holding down the fort till then."

"Oh, that explains it."

"Hm..." The Hamada flips the page of his book, eyes trailing down its length before focusing on a particular passage. "Explains what?"

"Why Baymax's diagramming your puberty out front." Gogo states simply, ending the statement with a crunch as she bites down into a cookie.

Hiro finally extracts his eyes from his work, attention gravitating. "What?"

At first he doesn't think much of it- a joke they're playing on him, surely- but then his friends all glance meaningfully toward the door leading to the cafe, where, yes it's true, one can hear the muffled voice of the nursebot.

The laughter accompanying his friend's monotone voice has Hiro springing into action, jumping from his seat with an urgency that sends his book toppling over and onto the floor. He ducks under Gogo's propped leg and hurriedly makes his way toward the door, pushing it open and stepping out into the bustle of the cafe front.

A barista pauses in her preparation of a mocha latte to send him a look, a mixture of amusement and pity that has Hiro imaging the worst. He stops and finally spots Baymax, who looks to be holding a conversation with a seated customer.

The customer, a familiar looking blonde.

"Oh, no," he mutters, "oh, please, no."

Baymax catches sight of him, turning his whole body when he does. It gives Hiro a good look at his screen and immediately Hiro wants to die because, there, illustrated on the large expansion of his stomach, just as Gogo had described, seems to be an embarrassing diagram of, yes, his puberty. Thankfully there are no pictures of his face, but that doesn't make the large letters spelling his name above it all any less humiliating.

"Hiro," the robot greets as he quickly walks over. "Are you feeling well today?"

The teenager ignores the routine questionnaire about his health and efficiently swipes at the robot's screen, which turns off at his experienced touch. His flushed glare has any cafe goer still sneaking glances at the robot innocently turning back to their food and minding their own business- well, almost everyone.

The girl is watching him, unabashed to be caught staring and keeping the eye contact even when Hiro starts feeling uncomfortable.

"Hiro, I sense a slight spike in your levels of adrenalin," the robot notes, monotone voice rising in a believable mimicry of concern. "It is possible you might be catching a cold. If that is the case then it would be in your best interest to inform me of any other symptoms-"

The dark haired boy groans and turns, running a hand through his hair, "It's not that, it's just-"

"-pubescent mood swings?" The girl supplies helpfully from his other side, but Hiro doesn't look at her (though that doesn't stop him from hearing the smile in her voice).

He is, however, horrified at those familiar words. "Baymax!"

The robot has no shame. "It is my duty as a healthcare companion to provide care to those who need it. This can also include teaching my patients how to better take care of themselves- proper management of one's own body is imperative to a long, healthy life. Persons of your age require information of what is to come, to better prepare you for the rollercoaster ride that is life." Hiro can just barely restrain himself from rolling his eyes at the robot's choice of wording. "I must instruct to you how to deal with emotional stress and certain urges that can lead to-"

"Okay! That's enough of that!" Hiro interrupts, instantly going pink in the face- a quick glance at the girl next to him assures him that he isn't the only one embarrassed now. He pulls at his friend's arm and tries, unsuccessfully, to drag him away. "Why don't you go now?"

"I cannot deactivate until-"

"Well, will you look at just how satisfied we are with our care? So satisfied. Like, I can't even tell you how satisfied- that's how satisfied I am. I mean, let me tell you, I have never been this satisfied with anything in my entire life. Never." The teenager rambles, palms digging deep into the robot's vinyl as he pushes. "Now, let's get you back to your case and download some new guidelines- like how you can't just activate and start random conversations with total strang-"

"I did not activate without the necessary precursor. I was notified by a sound of distress, done so when my patient suffered an acute laceration on her forefinger." Hiro's eyes snap in the direction of the blonde, taking in the pink bandage wrapped snuggly around one of her fingers- it wiggles at him when she catches him staring. "In addition, she expressed interest in conversation as I worked, so I complied."

"So, you talked about me and my puberty?" He asks, pausing, both exasperated and distracted again. "Whatever happened to patient confidentiality, huh?"

"No terms of confidentiality were infringed upon." Baymax assures him, but, Hiro notices, doesn't deny the accusations.

There is a clatter of dishes somewhere in the back of the cafe, followed by the muted talking of one of the baristas.

"He's telling the truth," the voice of the girl pipes up, drawing Hiro's attention. Brown meets blue and for a moment Hiro feels the need to blink. "He was just doing his job- he's a nursebot, right? Well, consider me nursed."

She hugs the robot, hesitating for only a moment until Baymax returns the action.

"I am glad that my care was satisfactory. You have been a good patient." The robot conjures up a lollipop and offers it to her.

She accepts the treat. "See? No need to get your pants in such a bunch- he's harmless."

"Harmless?" The teenager asks out loud, mildly offended on behalf of his friend and himself- his pants were so not in a bunch. "He's the best robot out there- way better than any battle bot, even the newer models. He can take them all in a fight, easy. I mean, you should see him when he's decked out- super sick and so awesome it'll blow your mind-"

He stops.

"She has already seen me in my armor." Baymax supplied (not so) helpfully. "Do you not remember, Hiro? It was approximately a week ago when we attempted to apprehend her and her accomplices after they burglarized a multitude of artifacts from the Museum of-"

"Yeah, Baymax, I remember." He winces, unsure of the topic.

The girl however doesn't even flinch at the comment about her less than lawful activities. Instead, she gives a wry smile in the robot's direction. "I'm sorry, I didn't get a good look- it's hard to focus when you're trying to dodge a rocket fist to the face."

"I shall make a note not to aim at any prominent targets the next time we find ourselves on opposite sides of the law." It's obvious Baymax sincerely means this and Hiro doesn't know whether or not that's a good thing.

Fortunately, she believes it to be a joke and lets out an unhindered laugh. "I can't wait."

"You know, you don't have to rob a bank or anything- I can show it to you sometime..." He's saying it before he knows it, nervous for some reason, and suddenly comes to the discovery that he doesn't know/remember her name.

"Momo," she tells him, sensing the unspoken question. Then a small smile is curling her lips, forming dimples in her round cheeks, as she offers a hand. "It is about time we introduce ourselves- formally, anyway- don't you think?"

He assures himself that he only takes her slender hand in his because he spots Baymax twitch minisculely, undoubtedly ready to gather more data on human interaction, and he just doesn't want to deal with another embarrassing fiasco. "Hiro… though you already knew that..."

Once he gives it a firm shake (just like Gogo had taught him long ago once she had been subjugated to its previous flimsy quality) he makes to let go, only to find that he can't. Her smaller hand grips his- not painfully, but iron-like nonetheless- and refuses to relinquish it. He looks up at her, questioningly.

She smiles big now, stepping closer, "It's nice to meet you, Hiro."

For reasons Hiro can't even begin to understand, he flushes.

Click.

The teenager starts and snaps his head in the direction of the sound. There, leaning over the counter next to the pyramid of croissants, is Honey Lemon. In her hand, a phone, snapping yet another picture. Behind her the rest of the gang are peeking from the doorway, looking far too amused for Hiro's liking; Hiro frowns at them.

The girl- Momo, gives the camera an award winning smile, taking it all in stride.

Encouraged, Honey snaps another, this one with the phone turned horizontally.

It's only when Baymax, spurred on by the girl's antics and urging, lifts up a hand and brandishes a peace sign does Hiro crack. He smiles, amused, and only half notices Momo's returned smile in his direction.

They're still holding hands.

Click.

The next day she enters the cafe like she usually does, eyes zoning in on him immediately and making a beeline around all the tables and customers in his direction. She greets his aunt with a charming smile as she slips into the small booth where he's taken shelter for the last hour.

She's wearing skates.

"Whatcha doin'?" The question leaves her lips almost immediately as she sits.

He doesn't look up, focused as he is, "Homework."

She scoots closer until she has better access to lift the cover of the book he's reading without disturbing his work. "An Introduction to... Quantum Physics?" Her tongue sticks out. "Sounds gross."

He nods absently, eyes drawn to a figure to provide better understanding of a particular concept, not noticing when she drifts into silence. He does notice, however, when Momo starts to squirm and, with how close she is, he can feel her leg pressing against his own underneath the table; it lightly bounces in barely contained nervousness.

Aunt Cass passes by them, a platter of baked goods in her hand which is set down on the table, accompanied by a strange, encouraging- almost conspiratorial- smile. The girl smiles politely in response as Hiro thanks his aunt, gaze flickering between the two and the plate. He can hear the sound of wheels tapping against the freshly mopped floor.

He reads a few passages, waiting.

"So..." She finally breaks the silence, drawling out the vowel until she has his attention. She places her palms flat on the table top and leans forward, eyes looking determined if not doubtful. "You wanna take a break and maybe, I don't know... go see a movie or something?"

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't that.

He looks at her, taken back. "What?"

"I asked if you wanted to see a movie..."

His head still hasn't wrapped itself around the concept; never before has he felt so... slow. "With who?"

"Uh, I was kinda thinking with me."

"W-why?"

"Well…" Momo begins, her shoulders bumping his as she shrugs almost too casually. She pushes a blonde lock behind her ear, dislodging slightly the rose that's been pinned in her hair- Hiro's eyes flicker to it, mind simultaneously enrapt and inattentive, before going back to her mouth and the words she's saying. "Seeing a movie is like a standard first date thing, right?"

Hiro doesn't know how he's come into this situation- to be asked out by a criminal in his aunt's cafe. "A wha... d-date?"

She throw her hands up, "It doesn't have to be a date! We can go as friends or acquaintances or like whatever! Or-or we can do something else?"

The teenage boy catches his aunt wiping down a neighboring table, the process taking longer than strictly necessary.

Grey eyes take in his bulging eyes and off-guard expression, and, even with his stuttering mind, Hiro can see the exact moment when she makes a decision. She looks away, not meeting his eyes, hands retreating from the table to fold in her lap. "It's fine if you don't want to..."

"Wha- No!" He's yells, surprising the both of them. Some customers a few tables down look their way, eyes curious over the brim of their coffee cups and raspberry danishes; his aunt now peeks almost comically out from behind a laminated menu, watching with an eagerness that is barely concealed. Hiro ducks down, shoulders hunching momentarily in embarrassment, and tries to gather his wits. He takes a deep breath. "I mean, no- yeah, sure, I'll go."

"You will?"

She looking at him again, eyes shining in a way that has Hiro gulping loudly.

He nods, "Yeah."

She cheers and it draws the attention of the customers again- though that might be more of the fact that his Aunt Cass is letting out the loudest whoop of joy, doing an excited little jig, in the middle of the room.

Heat swarms Hiro's cheeks, spreading until it settles comfortably at his ears and neck. Still, he smiles.

They go to the movies that day.

And if after Hiro offers the idea to go get some ice cream together, well, then that's nobody's business but his own.