Hi everyone! Here is chapter nine ^w^
Guest: Thank you so much for your review, you just made my day :D
I have not found many "Momo is Hana" fic so I decided to make my own :D Yeah, it would not make sense for Tomura to just become a loving big brother, he is bound to have mixed feelings towards her. He is a bit kinder to her in this chapter but the situation forces him though x3 All in all, they have issues. Momo's feelings towards him are simpler: she loves him and looked for him for years. But yes, she is bound to have some breakdowns or it would not make sense.
I wish Horikoshi would give her more screentime too :(
Again, thank you so much for reading and leaving this heartwarming review! 3
Chapter 9.
Dabi sat on the shitty bed of his new cell. It was much less comfortable than the fancy room Shigaraki and the girl were locked in, but it was better than being dead. He closed his eyes and ran a head on his face, trying to come up with a solution. He had to think clearly, or he would never be able to get out of this bloody place and get his boss out of here. And the girl, he supposed. For now, Shigaraki was furious at her and would have probably killed her had Dabi not stepped in, but the pyrokinetic had no doubt that his boss would never forgive himself for killing her. He had carried her mummified severed hands on his wrists for years, after all. Deep down, he was probably glad to have her back.
Or knowing she was alive, rather. She was not going to join the Paranormal Liberation Front, even if Shigaraki was her brother. The girl was a heroine through and through, dumb and stupid, too kind and in serious need for someone to tell her that the real world was shit and made in various shades of grey. Maybe the time spent with this cult would do so. Dabi grinned maniacally as he imagined the headlines. "Promising hero student goes mad after being kidnapped by a cult". Would she kill herself? Persevere? The media would eat the heroes alive, especially Mirko. If the number five hero could not protect her own student, what did it mean for the rest of society?
Things were really getting interesting.
Dabi got up from the bed and walked to the bars of his cell; a guard with a black robe was staring at him, face blank. So, how dumb were the low-ranking cultists?
"Hey man, you got a smoke? I've been dyin' to smoke somethin'."
"No."
Dabi had not expected the guard to answer, but it would definitely make things easier. Moreover, it answered his questions. Low-ranking cultists were gullible dim-witted assholes. He felt slightly insulted to see how much they underestimated him, but it would just make things easier for him.
"You've had us for how long? Keepin' track of time's a pain in the ass."
"Two days and counting."
That was not much. One day of rest for everyone, the shitty day he had just had and today, when they had put him back in his cell despite Shigaraki's protests. The girl was still asleep, but it was not much of a surprise. She was a walking mental breakdown at this point, and Dabi was ready to bet two months' worth of cigarettes that her pain was far from over.
"What's the plan for good ol' me? You plannin' of sacrificin' me or somethin'?
"The Prophet hasn't decided yet", the man shrugged. "You're here to make sure Mother and Father behave."
"Don't'cha think y'all wrong about yer grand plan if yer Mother and Father don't cooperate?"
"This is not how it works."
Fucking cultists. Speaking to a wall would be more interesting.
"Alright. And when y'all goin' to create God or whatever?"
"Two days from now. Enjoy your last days on Earth, patchwork, you will soon join God."
'If there's a God, I don't think I'm ever gonna meet him, buddy.' Dabi went back to the bed and massaged his temples. This was one hell of a shitshow. But two days was a good time limit. His body digested drugs much faster than it should because of his quirk, and he would most likely have his quirk back before the grand ceremony – or however they called it. For now, the quirk-repressing drugs were injected through a syringe, and thus he had no way to escape it, but his body could get rid of it in eighteen hours. Now that he had recuperated a bit, he was ready to escape. Tomorrow, the minute the drug would wear off, he would unleash his wrath.
They wanted a god?
They would have Hell.
000
Mirko groaned as she opened her eyes. She painfully sat on the bed she had been laying on and looked around. The flat was painfully banal, with nothing particularly standing out. The naked walls were an ugly yellow, the second-hand furniture mismatched. The heroine put a hand to her hand, recalling the events which had taken place before. She immediately jumped to her feet, ready to defend herself, and some noise in the kitchen attracted her attention. The heroine silently went to the room, to find Spinner trying to make himself some coffee with an obsolete machine.
"Hello", the heroine said.
"Fuck!" the man yelled, almost dropping his coffee. "You scared the shit out of me!"
"My bad."
"How you feeling? You were pretty out of it when we found you. Compress is using the bathroom"
"I've been better. How long was I out?"
"A couple of hours. You said her parents are in the cult?"
"Yeah."
Compress returned from the bathroom at the moment and nodded at Mirko. She nodded back; she did not have the will to try to understand the eccentric villain's habits. It was beyond her, and far above her paygrade.
"The Yaoyorozus are the ones who drugged me, but I booked it before losing consciousness. Before I got poisoned, however, I got the last piece of the 'why them' puzzle. Shigaraki and Creati are siblings."
The two villains' eyes widened, and Mirko explained to them what the Yaoyorozus had told her earlier. Stunned silence answered her, and the rabbit heroine allowed them a few minutes to process what they had learnt of their leader.
"We didn't even know Shigaraki wasn't his birth name", Spinner breathed. "How do they?"
"They must have been on him for a while, that's the only thing I can think of. They grabbed Creati when she was still in the hospital; they might have noticed them when Shigaraki's quirk awoke, or something like that."
"We must do something, fast. There is no telling how Shigaraki will react to his sister being alive. This girl might be in more danger than we originally thought", Compress said from behind his mask.
"Why do you care about what happens to her?" Mirko could not help but ask. She hated being unable to see his face.
"Two reasons. First, she is a temporary ally, and thus I don't wish to see her harmed. Secondly, she a child, a few months younger than Himiko-chan. I have no desire to see children being harmed unnecessarily."
Mirko almost snorted but stopped herself. There was no need to antagonize the man. For now, she had to focus on finding Momo. She would not allow this farce to continue, and she had a pretty good idea on who was the mole of their little team of misfits.
000
Emi Yaoyorozu would never forget the day the Prophet had tasked her and her husband to become Hana Shimura's new parents. It had been the greatest one of her life; a true blessing, a recognition of her devotion to the Church, of her ability to blend within the non-believers. She and Kota had given the girl all she would require in order to grow up into Mother and becoming worthy of the blessing God had bestowed upon her. Of course, their money had helped a lot. She had been protected from the world's dirtiest filth, and her soul had remained the purest of all. Emi and Kota were often praised by their brothers and sisters for raising such a sweet Mother.
Yet, today they would likely be punished. The heroine Mirko had escaped them, without a doubt alerting her allies of their allegiance. The woman had not severely wounded them, but she had fled from her and Kota's grasp. Such a monstrous creature, able to resist the drugs she and Kota had prepared! They should have never allowed Momo to intern with her. But how could they refuse without exposing themselves? This filthy creature was the number five hero, and they had no reason to refuse, especially when the woman had taken a special interest in her. Emi breathed deeply. She could not allow herself to dwell on the past; it was useless.
"Oh, sister Emi, brother Kota, I am so glad to see you here", the Prophet said, entering the in all his blessed majesty, and Emi found herself smiling. His mere presence always soothed whatever troubled her mind. "I have heard of Mirko's escape. Please don't fret over it; this demon was bound to have abilities who would allow her to escape us. I should have foreseen this."
"Thank you for your forgiveness, Prophet", Kota replied reverently, and Emi bowed deeply, grateful as well.
"Please, come with me. I am sure you wish to see Mother and Father together," the winged man kindly said, leading them towards the control room. The chamber where the future parents of God was displayed on a giant flat screen, allowing the brothers and sisters of the Church to monitor them. "They certainly have many issues to deal with, but it is only expected. Creation and destruction must clash before merging and bringing forth perfection."
Emi nodded, eyes glued to the screen. They were so beautiful, now donned with the Archangel wings. They were each one half of utter perfection, one creating, one destroying, gods among men. A Mother to nourish the world, a Father to punish it should it misbehaved. She wished nothing more than to see what kind of vessel they would create for God.
"May we see them, Prophet?", she asked.
"Why, of course, dear sister! I was planning on having a conversation with them today. They received the wings yesterday, we ought to tell them what comes next. It would quite impolite to let them in the dark, don't you agree?"
"You're perfectly right, as always", she replied, her cheeks becoming pink as he smiled at her.
The Prophet was the most beautiful man on earth after Father, his age did not matter. She loved Kota with all her heart, but nothing would ever surpass her devotion to Father and the Prophet. She and Kota donned their own robes – hers black, Kota's white – and followed the Prophet through corridors. Other brothers and sisters joined them, and Emi fell in line with those of the Destruction path. Their blessings were aligned with Father's one and destroyed instead of creating, and whereas those of the Creation path were the opposite.
Soon enough, they reached majestic carved mahogany double doors, with gold handles. The doors to Mother and Father. Emi hid her excitement at the prospect of seeing God's chosen ones together; it would be such a blessing! The doors opened, revealing God's favourites. She could not see them well yet, but she distinctly heard Father's voice. It was raspy and deep, perfect.
"The fuck ya want, now? Are horns or some shit next on the list?" Father growled.
"Father, please, we only want to have a chat with you. Is Mother awake?"
"Dunno, don't care. All I care about is how I'm gonna kill you."
"I'm awake", Mother's softer voice intervened. "What do you want?"
"Oh Mother, I am so glad you are awake. I would not dare to disturb your sleep, as yesterday has been quite exhausting, but there are two people who desperately wish to see you. Brother Kato, sister Emi, please, come forward."
Emi excitedly complied and her eyes fell on Mother. She had gotten up from the bed, and her long ebony hair was detached, hanging past her waist. The prosthetics hiding her scars were gone, and the abstract lines tattooed on her skin by Decay were exposed for the world to see. How beautiful she was! She was truly the only being who could resist Father's blessing, one of unparalleled beauty. Her face froze as she recognised them, blood living it and her skin turning to white porcelain.
"What…? You… How could you…?"
Mother's voice was shaky and weak, barely audible. Father frowned slightly, eyes darting swiftly between Mother and them, most likely trying to understand what was going on. Confusion was so beautiful on his handsome face! Emi could not wait to see his wrath; it had to be one of the most majestic sights to behold. She held a dreamy sigh back; it would be quite unbecoming of her.
"How long…?" Mother asked, face contorted by her distress.
"Always, dear Mother. God blessed us when you were admitted to the hospital all these years ago. One of our brothers works at this facility, and you were the most interesting rumour at the time. The blessed child who has survived utter destruction. After some research, we discovered what you're capable of; it was obvious you are meant to become the holy Mother."
"All these years… You told me you loved me… You lied to me…" she breathed, her body shaking, her wings spreading out, tears at the corner of her eyes.
"Oh, sweet Mother, don't be mad. Where they not good parents?", the Prophet intervened.
"Parents?", Father repeated, and Emi smiled at him.
"Yes; they were tasked to raise Hana Shimura as our daughter so she may become Mother. They would have been ecstatic to have you as well, but, as despicable as All For One was, he was much more suited to this task. Abandoning you to him was hard for the Church", the Prophet explained.
"You knew where he was?" Mother's voice was hysterical. She suddenly launched herself at them, roaring in fury. "You knew! All these years!" Father grabbed her by the waist as she passed by him. He held her against him as she trashed against his grip, her wings flapping furiously. "Private investigator after private investigator, you watched me do everything I could to find him! And you knew! You knew where he was! You let him be covered in all these scars! Get hurt!"
"You told us you wished to be reunited with him. We granted your wish, have we not?", Emi replied.
"Reunited? We've been kidnapped! Experimented on! I hate you! Burn in hell!"
Tomura held the girl tighter. He had grabbed her out of instinct, and he was pretty glad he had done so. She was hysterical, screaming strangely curse-less hateful phrases to her adoptive parents, mostly inviting them to rot in hell or something of the kind. Tomura could not disagree with her righteous anger, despite the uncomfortable incoherent feelings he held for her. This kind of betrayal was bound to haunt her for the rest of her life, and it was the kind of things he hated. Fucking society, fucking world, always playing with people's hearts, always using those like him, like them. He felt her sobs racking her body through her trashing, and the tears were audible in her breaking voice. Her cries twisted his stomach unpleasantly, as her words echoed in his mind.
Hana had hired private investigators to find him, had looked for him up until their captures. The thought bizarrely warmed his heart; he was not expecting it. It was the same feeling as when she had told him she did not blame him for their family's deaths.
Relief.
How stupid. Why was he relieved to learn such things? Why did he care whether or not she loved him? Why did he want her to love him despite the years spent apart? For fuck's sake, he had enjoyed killing her. Memories flashed through his mind. Hana comforting him when their father punished him, watching cartoons with him, holding his hand, dancing silly with him, stealing cookies together… Before he knew it, he tightened his grip on her in a strange, impulsive attempt to comfort her.
He glared at the two cultists, and anger filled him like a shot of heroin, flowing through his bloodstream like the most powerful drug. He unconsciously wrapped his newly acquired wings around Hana, allowing her to rest against him, even though she was his size and much better nourished than he was. She was trembling against him, a mess of sobs and incoherent mutters.
"Ya two'll die first. I hate when assholes fuck with other people's hearts", he hissed, but the woman only smiled dreamily.
"Dying by your hand would be a blessing, Father."
"I'll make ya regret those words. Now. Ya want somethin' or ya just came to break her heart?"
"We wished to tell you that the Holy Union will take place in two days. All of our brothers and sisters will be there to see the creation of God's receptacle."
"And how are y'all plannin' on gettin' her pregnant? She's my sister. And I'm fuckin' gay. Ya can't make nōmus based on us, you don't have the research necessary."
"We have our means."
Well, that was not ominous at all.