A villain who doesn't want to harm the hero, is trying to take them down as gently as possible and thinks the hero is the one being crazy about this, while the hero is desperately fighting to protect the world.
Bonus points if the villain is the hero's big sibling or similar figure.
"Father wanted to put you in an institution," their sibling said. "There was no way I was going to allow that." They carded their fingers through the hero's hair, soothing, like they were still five years old and waking up from a bad dream. "Those places are awful. They'd hurt you."
"It's okay. You're okay."
"The - the tea. You." The realisation of it choked off in the hero's throat. Sharp. Catching. Betrayal.
"I told father I'd handle it," their sibling said, almost absently.
"Yes." Their sibling ducked to gather up the jagged shards of the fallen mug, depositing them on the coffee table. They met the hero's eyes. "Handle you."
The hero glared. They willed their noodled limbs to move, but all they got for their efforts was nearly crumpling to the floor again. Their sibling caught them, steadied them, pushed them back into the chair. The hero's heart thudded wildly beneath their palms.
"He wasn't having it though," their sibling continued. "He told me that you needed to be corrected, by any means necessary. He told me that it was just the place for a crazy person like you. That you'd bring shame on the family." They grimaced. "You know father."
The hero did, unfortunately, know their father.
They also knew their sibling though. They knew they were drugged up in their own living room, not being wrestled into a straight-jacket somewhere for some non-consensual therapy sessions.
"What did you do to him?" it came out raspy.
Their sibling smiled, small and grim. "He should have known better. Just like you should have known better, but you always were a little idiot, so no shockers there."
"...what are you going to do to me?" That was, perhaps, the better question. Their mind still felt sharp, after all, even if nothing in their body wanted to cooperate with them.
"Do you think I'd hurt you?"
"Father was a jackass. You're just stupid."
"I'm trying to make the world better!"
"Yeah," their sibling said. "Stupid."
"I'm not going to debate this with you."
"Eh, that was for your own good. For all his many sins, father wasn't totally wrong. You do need help. A friendly intervention."
"They'll come for me. My friends will come for me."
Their sibling shrugged. "I have no such reservations hurting them."
The hero swallowed. Their mouth still felt dry, sticky and cloyingly sweet. They searched their sibling's face for any sign of a lie. They found none.
"You know what father and his friends are doing is wrong," the hero said after a beat; maybe just frantic to see some glimmer of recognition of that fact.
Their sibling shrugged again, easy. "Sure."
"You could help us fight them. You could come with me. You could...keep me safe. That's what you want, right? To keep me safe."
"Your friends aren't going to kill you. You're perfectly safe like this."
"But what father's friends are doing - don't you - you have to care."
Their sibling raised an eyebrow.
The hero wanted to snarl. As ever, it seemed, their sibling did not have to care about anyone or anything. Who cared about the world if going along with monstrosity was easier?!
"Don't you care that I care?"
"You care about everything," their sibling rolled their eyes. "You held a funeral for the fish."
"This is nothing like the fish!"
Their sibling straightened up with a sigh, looking down on them, hands on hips. "I've made my decision."
"I don't expect you to be happy about it, but you're gonna deal with it. You're underage. That makes you my responsibility. I'll let you go when this all blows over."
"You mean when father's friends finish wrecking the world?"
"Don't be so overdramatic."
"You drugged me and I'm overdramatic?"
"Overdramatic looks better on me. I have the cheekbones for it."
"No." Their sibling's voice shifted, abruptly. "It isn't. Do you want me to get serious?"
The hero...paused. The air suddenly felt oppressive.
"I am being very gentle," their sibling said. "And you are infinitely squishy and breakable. Father's institution would have crushed you into teeny tiny pieces, so shattered that you didn't even care anymore. You would kill your friends if they asked, by the time they were done."
The hero swallowed, stricken, horrified.
"Tell me again how unfunny this is," their sibling said. "Like you think I'm stupid."
The hero shook their head.
As swiftly as the storm had come, their sibling offered them a sunny smile. The tension vanished as they booped the hero's nose.
"We're going to get through so many film nights. It's going to be great. Now." They reached for the coffee table. "Have some more tea."
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