Hiro Hamada, boy genius. Graduated high school at thirteen, made a killing in bot fights, became the leader of the six saviors of San Fransokyo. He lives with a loving aunt and has wonderful, faithful friends. Everybody who knows him wants to be him.

So why does Hiro desperately want out?

Perhaps not fully out, as Hiro currently could not find that amount of will, but why does he torment himself?

To every forgiving and promising daybreak, there is a foreboding and empty twilight waiting at the end.

Hiro cannot remember his parent's faces. He cannot remember their voices. He has been without them since the age of three. Hiro's life was once revolved around crime. He snuck out late at night, using his age as a tool to hustle illegal money. He had no friends, no one to share his stories with or create their own. Hiro looked at the years awaiting him and couldn't see a future. He saw the walls of his garage, he saw the technology, he saw the money. Hiro saw a rich, lonely, criminal future. As a fourteen year old, these visions which would normally come to an adult as a coffee-fueled overreaction had scared him deeply.

But then, in a miraculous turn of events, the boy's brother had shown him a different route. Though Tadashi could not directly interpret the fears in his younger brother's heart, he knew rightly what would become of his undisciplined habit. He showed Hiro what he could do with his gift. He helped him get accepted to the school of his dreams. However, on that very same night, Hiro had lost Tadashi. A fire had started, and his brother had run in to help a man trapped, but only ended up deceased.

Everything was not lost to Hiro. His only direct family tie, his only source of happiness, his only beacon in the twisted dark. With Tadashi perished Hiro's dreams of living any sort of a happy life.

In the days and months of recent, many would believe that Hiro had gotten over the death of his brother what with him having his brother's nursing robot around, finally enrolling at the institute, and being a citywide superhero. He smiled, he laughed, but he was not happy. In truth, Hiro was still depressed. At first, before the creation of his superhero gang, Hiro had worn his depression outright and refused to eat, do anything, or contact anyone. The blinds were down and he never left his room. Now, he had found new ways to release his fear and sadness as he contemplated the life he had behind and ahead of him.

Hiro wore his zip-up jacket for a good reason. It was first just a comfortable jacket, but now Hiro had gained a much more darkened need for it. He never removed it, not unless he was in the shower. Or, if there was ever an event such as now going on.

His friends had left. Baymax was deactivated. His aunt was busy downstairs. Hiro pulled back his left sleeve. Thin pink lines crisscrossed over his wrist and forearm, mainly keeping a horizontal look. A few marks still had scabs over them, but others were so old the light pink had nearly faded away.

At this point in his life Hiro was not a boy to be shaving. Hence he had no available razors to take apart, and instead used a pair of scissors he had in his room. The room that Hiro used to share with his brother. Sitting Indian style on his bed, Hiro needn't look far to notice Tadashi's empty bed. His side of the room had not been cleared yet. Hiro insisted it stay exactly as Tadashi had it, almost like the room was ready and waiting for its master's return. Hiro felt his eyes grow hot, and squeezed them shut. He needed to be silent about this.

Hiro opened the scissors and held one half of it, pressing the opposite blade against his mid forearm. He sucked in a breath, then swiftly dragged it across. The wound was unnoticeable. There was no evidence of it for almost a full second before blood slowly started to pool. Hiro sucked in another breath, then thinly sliced his skin again. He made a line crossing over a faded pink scar, the second one parallel to the first. Hiro's eyes were shut once more as he felt a lump in his throat and a tear bead.

Why?

Hiro started every question about his miserable existence with that word. Why was he reduced to this? Why was his future unforgiving? Why was he doing illegal things? Why did Tadashi have to die? Why was he so alone? Why did he feel this way? What was wrong with him? Why can't he stop any of this?

While Hiro was in this state of self-loathe questioning, eventually leading to loathing insults, Hiro hadn't selected the place for his next mark. He acted on depressed, angry impulse, and cut himself again without searching for a clear area. He expected the normal amount of numbed pain, but instead felt a second burst of fire as his cut overlapped another fresh one, the one he had made moments before.

Hiro couldn't bite his tongue in time, and loudly winced, crying out once as his eyes shot open and he stared at the mess. Blood had become smeared where the two marks ran into each other.

He cursed silently not at the mistake, but at the affect it had. Baymax was inflating from the wall opposite his bed. Hiro hurried and tossed the scissors onto his desk, not bothering to clean up the droplet that had gotten onto it. He pulled the sleeve down again and had planned to fall over and pretend he'd fallen asleep on his bed, but the latter half of his plan had not been granted enough time. Baymax had already activated. He saw Hiro and raised his hand.

"Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion."

Hiro put on a fake smile, one that he thought could fool a robot. "Hey, Baymax."

He stepped forward to the edge of the bed. Hiro scooted backwards. "I heard a sound of distress. Are you alright?"

He held his hands behind his back. "I'm fine, buddy."

Baymax was silent for a moment. "I shall scan you to be sure."

The boy panicked. He'd had enough of Baymax's unwanted scans to know to roll off the bed as soon as he said the word. "No, don't scan me. I'm fine, I'm fine."

"You need to be scanned. You are my patient. How can I help you if I do not know what is wrong with you?"

"Join the club," Hiro mumbled under his breath. "Baymax, please, just don't do the scan. Trust me, it's okay."

Instead of replying in the same repetitive way Hiro had expected, where the robot would insist on helping his patient, Baymax was silent. A short whirring sound came from his neck as the robot's head swiveled to the left ever so slightly.

"Hiro," he started, "why is there your blood on that hand tool?"

He turned his head and looked in the direction of his desk. The scissors were there, uncleaned. In the past, they'd never dirtied before. The cuts were clean and swift. The only dirt on it now was the amount of a single droplet of blood, due to the interception. Hiro hadn't cleaned it because he hadn't thought of it. He didn't think that Baymax would scan the whole freaking room.

But as it turned out, the nursing robot was full of surprises. While Hiro was distracted looking at the scissors, Baymax had scanned his person. The boy's head whipped around when he heard the robot speak.

"There appear to be several injuries on your left forearm. On a scale of one to ten, how bad would you rate your pain?"

"None, Baymax," Hiro said harshly. "You must be malfunctioning. There's nothing wrong."

"I am not malfunctioning." Baymax then hesitated. Presumably, he could have been rifling through the data he had on what Hiro feared. An eternity could have passed and it would have felt the exact same as these ten seconds. Baymax asked, "What has caused this, Hiro?"

He blinked, his heart rate going up. "What do you mean, buddy?"

"When people are going through a stressful or depressed time in their life, most likely due to the loss of a loved one or friend, they can willingly cause themselves bodily harm." He paused. "What has caused this, Hiro?"

The fourteen year old flopped down onto his bed, laying on his side away from the robot. "No one."

"Are you still sad about Tadashi?"

Hiro was silent.

"I have checked my database. These responses can normally indicate a reluctant way of responding with yes."

Still, Hiro was silent. He could feel anger growing inside his gut.

"What can I do to help banish this type of behavior?"

"You can't help me," he said through gritted teeth. His jaw was clenched to keep himself from yelling.

"Of course I can." More whirring could be heard as Baymax walked around the bed and stood in front of his patient. "What has caused this?"

Hiro rolled over. He held his wrist close to his face and peeked down his sleeve. "Lots of things cause hurt," he growled.

Baymax blinked once, rechecking his database. He then repeated his earlier question, "Are you still sad about Tadashi?"

Hiro clenched his fists.

"I do not think that Tadashi wishes for you to do this to his memory. It is not healthy to cause oneself bodily harm."

"Who gives a crap?!" The boy yelled, flipping back around. "It doesn't matter what Tadashi would have wanted! He's dead now, Baymax! Gone! Stop freaking talking about him!"

Baymax could remember a time from the past, a time when Hiro had become upset for the exact same reason. His intentions had been harm to another, and this was because of Tadashi. His intentions now are harm to himself, and this was because of Tadashi. The robot remembered what had soothed Hiro then, and believed it could sooth Hiro now. With the unsuspecting boy once more facing away from Baymax, the robot silently loaded the video file.

"This is Tadashi Hamada," the video sounded, "and this is the first ever test. . ."

Hiro sat up, throwing his pillow at Baymax's stomach. "Shut that off!"

"Is this not soothing?" He asked.

"No you idiot! Tadashi isn't the only reason I'm fucking like this!" For a brief moment in time, Hiro became afraid that his aunt had heard him shouting a cuss word, but that fear was instantly squashed as Baymax continued.

"Like how?"

Hiro slammed his fists against the paused image of his older brother. "I've done absolutely nothing with my life! I have no goals and no future! I'm a damn waste of a life! It should have been me, not Tadashi!" Baymax tried to put his arm over the boy's quivering form, but Hiro pushed him off. "Don't touch me." He continued to sob against his stomach, though.

"Hiro, do not be sad," the robot said. "You have a happy environment. This has been proven multiple times. I see no reason for you to be sad. Tadashi wanted you to help people. Are you not?"

Hiro, from where he had his forehead touching the robot, stared down at the floor. From the creation of his group, Big Hero 6, it was true that they had helped the city. But no, this. . .this was one small illuminated star in the blackened sky. It was certainly no morning sun.

More silence followed this. Silence to the boy, but Baymax was fast-forwarding the video on his belly. He found the scene he wished to show to his patient, and played it for the benefit of his mental health.

On the screen was Tadashi's smiling face, looking into the camera and saying that Baymax was going to help so many people.

Hiro looked up. "Turn that off. He's talking about you, you know."

"This applies not only to my protocol, but to yours." He played the scene again.

Tadashi spoke, "You don't know this yet, but a lot of people need you. You are going to help so many people." He smiled. "So many."

Hiro forced himself to look away. This was not his brother. His brother was dead. Tadashi was not talking to him. He never would, not ever again. Hiro could not see any hope of family.

"Souls do not die."

He blinked. What had he just said?

"Souls do not die," Baymax repeated.

Hiro's mind wandered for a moment. There was no way that Tadashi had included this kind of consolation in Baymax's chip. The boy froze up as he heard the robot speaking with new phrases he's never heard, or planned to hear.

"Tadashi is here. His body was burned. His soul is not dead. Tadashi could be in a new body right now. You will see him again."

"That's. . ." he murmured, "that's impossible."

Baymax put both of his arms around Hiro. "There, there." He patted his head twice. "Souls do not die."

Hiro tightly gripped the huggable robot. "Tadashi is dead," he said to himself.

"No you knucklehead, Tadashi is here."