I wrote this out of pure, unadulterated spite and will not be fixing any mistakes, sorry.

You always considered your choices in life, though always seemed to choose the ones that strayed furthest from where you were meant to be. Mistakes were often made, incorrect decisions sought, and you used to wish only to hit a button and restart; you wished to restarted, knowing what not to do the next time around. But that was in the past, a futile hope that you learned held you back more than anything. Your decisions brought you to where you were now, and you couldn't be any prouder.

Growing up with doctors as parents was rough, at least in the sense that the imposed expectations were greater than yourself. Your quirk, "Cellulate", made things worse, and as a child, you'd sit by your bedside, praying, to whichever God willing, that your quirk would just disappear. As you stood in front of Dabi, on that terrible day, you were glad that fate had the hold on you that it did.

The doctors said that he'd die, that he had no more than mere minutes left. Of course, there was nothing they could do — he was burned beyond repair, not that they'd have helped a villain anyway. Most of his limbs had been reduced to nubs, his flesh and organs burned to ash, and there was nothing that anyone could do to fix it. He was just sitting there in that room, inside of that contraption, waiting for death despite realizing his desire to live.

However, that didn't explain how you now sat next to him in your jail cell in Tartarus. It didn't explain how you'd managed to save him in spite of everything that had happened. It didn't explain how your quirk managed to use his bone marrow as a vessel to create and spread stem cells within his body, nor did it explain how you were able to convince the heroes to keep you and him contained in a single cell together in Tartarus. Only the God's that were listening while you desperately prayed for him instead of you could explain it all.