Hello everyone! Here is the sixth chapter, I hope you will enjoy it ^w^ This chapter is centred on the siblings, from Tomura's perspective.

Fencer29: Mirko hates having to work with villains, which is why she prefers bringing the cultist to the police station. As for Momo's age, this will be explained in this chapter :) Thank you for reading 3

Chapter 06.

Tomura jumped back, eyes widened. How did that little girl know his real name? Even he had forgotten about it for years. She could not be Hana. Hana was dead, he had been the one to kill her, he had seen her small body mangled by Decay. It could not be. Sensei had brought him Hana's hands, for fuck's sake! His eyes fell on her arms as she slowly removed her bandages, exposing more of her skin. If the scars represented the lines Decay had followed while ripping apart her body, her hands had been separated. Her head had been split in two and her legs torn apart as well. Tomura's stomach twisted in disgust, and he rushed to the sink. As he threw up bile, the girl rushed to support him, holding him firmly but softly.

"I understand if you don't believe me", she said in a kind voice as she caressed his hair. Normally, he hated other people's touch, but he did not mind hers. It felt disgustingly familiar and warm. "I didn't believe it for years. If doctors had not shown me videos of Creation repairing my body, I wouldn't have believed it either."

"How?", he panted. "I read about your quirk. You can't create living organisms. You shouldn't have able to…"

The word 'survive' never made it past his lips.

"Creation uses body fat and changes its molecular structure to create what I want. On that day, I was dying, and it went haywire. The body fat was used to repair the organs, the brain, everything. I would have still died if someone had not brought me to a hospital because I would have run out of fat before the end of the process", she explained softly.

"What was our cat's name?", he asked, trying to get her to fail the question, to prove that she was lying, to repair his world and his mind as he knew them, to stop her from shattering everything he had known ever since he was four fucking years old, but she merely giggled.

"Our dog was named Mon-chan. You're allergic to cats."

It really was Hana. Then… Had the doctor and Sensei lied to him? Were they unaware of her survival? No, it was impossible. Sensei knew everything. Then why… why had he kept Hana's survival a secret from him? Did he think he would not be willing to accomplish their dream if Hana was alive? He slammed his fist against the sink, shaking with fury. Rage was running through his veins, but he did not know against whom. The heroes who had never saved him? Sensei who had lied to him? Hana who had not found him?

"Are you mad at me for killing everyone?"

The question had slipped from his lips before he could truly reflect upon it, and he bit the inside of his cheek. What kind of question was that? Did he even want to know the answer? He did not give a flying fuck what people thought of him. The world could loathe him and call him a villain to silence him if it wanted to; it just made him more eager to destroy everything and dance on the ashes. So why the fuck had he asked that?

"Never."

Her voice brought him back to reality, and he found himself remaining very still as she kept talking.

"It wasn't your fault, it was mine. I was a horrible sister, and if I hadn't run away and just stopped to think for ten seconds, I could have stopped this. I should have told you to keep your hands up and helped you. Instead, I abandoned you", she said, and he could hear the heartbreak in her voice.

How could she think it was her fault? It was his quirk who had destroyed everything, not her. She had been an eight-year-old little girl, not a grown adult who knew how to handle a four-year-old kid awakening an extremely dangerous quirk. It was not her fault. At that moment, Tomura realised at whom his blazing fury was directed against. It was their father's fault, the world's fault, society's fault, everyone else's fault. Not his, not Hana's. They had been innocent children. And yet, the world had made her believe everything was her fault, it had abandoned him when he was wandering the streets alone.

Tomura felt strangely relieved. Nothing had changed. Not his goals, not who he was, nothing. If anything, Hana's unfunded guilt proved him right. How could the world allow a little girl to feel guilty over this? He was going to destroy this world and everything that would stand in his path. He did not have to change anything of who he was.

"I'm going to burn the world", he groaned.

He thought she would protest, being a heroine-in-training and all that jazz, but she did not. She merely hugged him from behind, and he froze before strengthening himself up. In the mirror, he could see his reflection – he had some bandages and purple bruises –, and warm soft arms encircling him kindly. It was such a weird sight. He had not received any type of physical affection ever since Sensei had found him. His benefactor had hugged him on that day to calm him down, but that was the only time it had happened. It had been more than sixteen years since that day, and the sensation was now completely foreign to him.

Obviously, he was technically used to having hands on his body, but it was completely different. Hana was warm against him, soothing the storm raging in his head that made him claw at his neck. The hands he used to wear were all cold and detached. They calmed him and made him feel sick at the same time, but he realized now that they were not truly calming. Hana was. Hana was warm, here, and above all, alive. She made him feel better than Father on his face.

Thus, he remained completely still as a strange but not unwelcome warmth spread through his body. His tensed muscles relaxed on their own, and his breathing became more even. It was strange, not to hate this unasked physical contact. And yet, the strangest thing of all was the disappearance of the need to scratch his neck. He did not want to claw at his skin at all, the desire to draw his own blood was completely gone. The last time he had felt this much at peace was sixteen years ago, when he had finally decayed his asshole of a father. Tomura closed his eyes, savouring the pleasant sensation.

They were suddenly brought back to reality by the sound of doors opening, and he jumped out of her embrace, rushing in the main room. About a dozen people were filling the room, all dressed in black or white ceremonial outfit. A man was standing out from the group, wearing silver instead and walking before them, and Tomura deduced he was the Prophet the wacko archangel was talking about before blowing herself up. He was old and had long white hair reaching his shoulder and grey feathery wings. 'I thought they hated mutation quirks', Tomura thought, frowning. 'That will have to wait, though.'

He clenched his fists, assessing the people in the room. They could most likely use their quirks, but he was faster and stronger than he looked. He had not seen Hana fight, but he assumed she could handle herself. Cracking his neck, he was about to launch himself at the Prophet himself when the man stepped aside, revealing two of his followers. Tomura's eyes widened, and he heard Hana gasp. The men were dragging a heavily wounded Dabi, who seemed barely conscious, head hanging low. His clothes were charred, his cloak almost gone, his body reeking of smoke and burnt flesh. Tomura's blood turned to fury, and madness took over his mind. The rage filling his bones was akin to the one he had felt upon learning his Sensei had been captured, upon learning what the fucking Meta Liberation Army had done to Twice. What had those assholes done to his second in command?

"Mother, Father, I suggest you behave less you want this pathetic excuse of man to die. I've been told you care for him", the Prophet said in an even voice.

"I'll hang you with your own guts, you fucker", Tomura seethed, shaking with ire. The old man merely smiled, and the white-haired villain felt like gouging the man's eyes or rip out his tongue. That would teach him to smile.

"I wish for you two to accompany us. You two must be prepared for your union."

Tomura glanced at Hana, waiting for her reaction. Her lips were pressed in a thin line, and her deep onyx eyes were furious, but she stepped forward. The Prophet offered the palm of his hand, but she firmly crossed her arms on her chest. Tomura could not see her expression, but he had no doubt she was trying to look as tough as she could.

"First, I want your word that Dabi will receive the medical treatment he needs. His wounds are bound to get infected if nothing is done", she said in a commanding tone.

"I've been told you saved the life of a monster, surely you can care for this man once you return. I'll make sure medical supplies are delivered to your chambers," the Prophet replied in a honey-like tone that made the white-haired man want to vomit.

Tomura clenched his fists. On one hand, he preferred having Dabi with him and not at the mercy of these assholes somewhere in what he assumed was an immense mansion. On the other hand, the black-haired man needed an actual doctor, with medical training. Hana had been able to save Spinner's life, but it had been temporary. Dabi's wounds were probably already dirty, and he would need a lot of medical attention. Who knew how long he and Hana would be gone, and in what state they would return? Yet, that was the best they would get.

"Fine. We'll treat him ourselves."

Tomura remained immobile as the two men – one dressed in black, one in white – dragged Dabi to the bed when they unceremoniously threw him. He was shaking with ire, bloodthirst coursing through his veins, but one wrong move and his second-in-command would be left to die from an infection. The black-haired villain grunted but did not resist. He was in a sore state if he could not muster an insult or a curse.

"You could have been more delicate!", Hana exclaimed.

"We have upheld our end of the bargain, Mother. Now please come with us. Father?"

Tomura complied. Dabi's life was in the balance, and he knew these people would kill neither him nor Hana, at least for now. 'One step at the time. At least, we should get more information this way', he thought, following the Prophet outside. Hana remained near him as if he brought her some sort of comfort. He did not understand why. He was a remorseless murderer, had done and would do much worse than these people. Was it solely because he was her brother? Did his presence bring her some comfort her embrace had brought him? It did not make any sense. Perhaps she had gone stupid because of Decay.

He was allowed to think much of it, though, for they soon reached a room looking far too much like a laboratory for his liking. There were hospital beds and a dozen of different machines, with screens displaying different schemas he could not clearly see from the distance. It reminded him of doctor Ujiko's office, which was not good. Not good at all. He needed to get Dabi out of here and destroy this entire place. He was itching to eradicate something. His neck felt irritated again, and he wanted to scratch it, but he was not about to show them any signs of weakness. If only he had Father, he would feel better… But no, he had decided to leave the hand at the base when he had come to the meeting. Fucking great.

"What the fuck are we doing here?", Tomura asked the Prophet.

"You will soon find out, Father", one of the men in black almost cooed, stepping closer to him. Fucking hell, if this wacko touched him, he would break his neck right where he stood, and damn the consequences.

"Welcome to my humble laboratory!", a voice sing-sang cheerfully, and Tomura lazily glanced up.

The mad scientist in chief was a woman in her thirties with dark hair and green eyes. She could be pretty if she did not look even more insane than he did. Her eyes were unhinged, and her smile straight from a kid's worst nightmare.

"It's such an honour to have both Mother and Father here!" she continued.

Again with the disgusting nicknames. Tomura mimicked gagging noises and felt Hana shivering next to him. She was not as brave as she wanted to be. Heh, it was not his problem. She could as afraid as she wished so long as she was not dead weight.

"Doctor, I hope everything is ready", the Prophet said.

"Of course! It was so exciting to prepare everything!", the woman said, and Tomura recoiled in disgust at her expression.

'Okay, even Himiko doesn't look as insane as this, that bitch isn't touching me with a ten-foot pole', he thought as the woman seemed almost aroused by everything. He would need lots of alcohol when this would all be over. And maybe some cocaine. He glanced at the woman again. Yeah, definitely some cocaine. Getting his hands on these narcotic groups had definitely been a good idea.

Another woman arrived with two cages; both contained crows. Tomura frowned; what was this about? Next to him, Hana flinched, and he glanced at her; she looked aghast, ready to faint in pure horror. Her entire body was shaking. He stepped a bit closer to her; maybe she would calm down a bit. She almost jumped onto his arm, gripping it tightly. His first reflex was to jerk his arm free, but he stopped himself at the last second. Now was not the time. He would set the boundaries later; they were not the main issue.

"So, what are you going to do with us?", he asked again.

The winged old man turned to him, creepily smiling. Hana clenched his arm tighter.

"As Mother and Father, you must receive the greatest of God's gifts. The Archangel wings."

Tomura felt his eyebrows rise. "The what now?"

"The Archangel wings", the Prophet repeated. "All of the Archangels and I have received them, and you must too. The process is painful, yes, but it is all for God."

"The Archangel who attacked us did not have wings", he frowned.

He looked at the birds again, dreading what was coming. He had a pretty clear idea of what was awaiting him now, and he did not like his powerlessness one bit. If they did not have Dabi, he would have already killed a bunch of them and attempted a forced escape. But he could not risk his Lieutenant's life, not when he was unable to defend himself. If Dabi was not this severely wounded, Tomura would fight back. He trusted his second-in-command to slaughter his way out of here, quirk or not. Dabi was maybe not very good at hand-to-hand combat, but he could be stealthy and efficient when he was not a dramatic emo bitch. But for that to happen, he needed to be at the very least able to walk on his own.

"Oh, she was not an Archangel. She was simply fooling your allies in a false sense of security, to make them believe one of the Archangels had been defeated", the Prophet chuckled. "Now, please cooperate. It would be a shame if the chambers where your… friend rests were to be visited by some of our men, now, wouldn't it?"

"Bastard", Tomura hissed, but the Prophet ignored the insult, instead showing the two beds.

"Please, sit."

"No, no, no, no, no hospital, please, no", Hana muttered, shaking.

'She's afraid of hospitals…', Tomura realised. It made sense. If she had spent eight years in a coma while her body repaired itself, she must have spent them in a hospital. Guilt stung his heart. If he had not decayed her… He bit his cheek. No. He could not go down this road, or they would both go mad. Dwelling on the past would not do them any good. He grabbed her hand, some stupid brotherly instinct buried deep inside his heart taking over.

"It'll be fine", he told her, and she glanced at him, her eyes widened in fear. "They're not going to kill us. You're going to be fine, okay?"

She nodded, trying to even her breath. She clutched his hand harder, and they walked to the beds. The mad scientist clapped gleefully and put the cages next to them. the birds were croaking, clearly disliking being locked behind the metal bars. He definitely shared the feeling.

"My blessing is fairly simple. It allows me to transfer an attribute from one target to another, including living things", the scientist explained.

Tomura gulped. This was insane. Completely unhinged, with not a shred of common sense. He instinctively tried to get up, but someone roughly grabbed his shoulders from behind and slammed his face against the mattress. He gasped at the impact. Tomura immediately tried to move but other hands grabbed him until he could not move at all. He was stronger than he looked, yes, but he did not have the herculean strength necessary to get those cultists off of him – not yet.

"Let me go you fucking wackos! I'll kill you all!" he roared, trashing against the hands, hating feeling other people touching them. "Get off me!"

He heard Hana beginning to sob and panic on her bed, most likely suffering the same fate as him. Suddenly, there was a horribly cold hand on his back, and he had the creepy impression his skin was freezing under the unpleasant touch. He tried to wiggle and get rid of it, but the other cultists were holding him tight. He felt the hand getting hotter and hotter, scorching his skin as surely as if Dabi's blue flames were devouring him, and Tomura bit his lip, tasting blood. He would not scream nor complain. They would not hear a goddamn sound from him, no matter how excruciating the pain would be.

About ten seconds later, he was regretting these words. His entire back was afire, the pain setting his blood ablaze and scorching his skin and muscles. Something was moving beneath his skin, trying to break free from his body, eating him from the inside-out. Bile rose up in his stomach, and he found himself puking again and again until he was dry-heaving, tears uncontrollably running down his cheeks. Nothing but pure agony controlled him, his body jerking and twisting. Why could he not faint? Why could the sweet relief of oblivion not claim him? Suddenly, his skin erupted like a volcano; whatever had been clawing its way out of his body had finally reached its goal. A roar of pain echoed the room, and Tomura recognized his own voice.