The room felt too quiet.
The weight of everything—The battle, the capture, the interrogation, the entrance exam, the way Midoriya shattered that giant robot with nothing but sheer determination—It all swirled in her mind like a storm refusing to settle.
And now… this.
Paperwork.
Her fingers hovered over the documents, eyes scanning the neatly printed questions.
"Full Name:"
That was easy. She scrawled: Shion Onigahara.
Shizoku snorted. "Oh, look at you, playing student already. How adorable."
She ignored her.
"Date of Birth:"
She hesitated.
A dull ache pulsed at the back of her mind, the fragments of old memories slipping through her fingers like sand. Did she even remember her own birthday? She exhaled sharply and wrote something close enough, Shion really likes winter and a certain day when commoners go out with their families... She reluctantly wrote "December 24th" on it.
Shizoku wheezed. "Oh my god, are we just guessing now? Should I throw in a fake middle name while we're at it?"
Shion tightened her grip on the pen.
"Current Residence:"
She stared.
The question stared back. Residence? As in, a home?
The classified underground facility didn't count.
The countless hideouts didn't count.
The cold rooms filled with flickering lights and experiments—none of it counted.
Her hands stilled. For a moment, something raw, something hollow pressed against her ribs.
Then, the laughter returned, Shizoku was losing it. "PFFT—this is too much. 'Current Residence'? HA! Should we just put 'some government cell with a five-star rating'? Maybe 'somewhere between hero custody and existential crisis'?"
Shion closed her eyes, inhaling. Shizoku's laughter only grew louder. "No, wait! Better idea—write 'Aizawa's couch' and see what happens!"
"Shut up," Shion muttered under her breath.
"Ooooh, scary! Look at you, little kitten getting all flustered over a form!" Her fingers twitched against the paper because Shizoku wasn't wrong.
This was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. What was she even doing?
She wasn't supposed to be here. She wasn't supposed to be filling out UA's admission forms like some normal student. She wasn't supposed to be accepted into the same system that once saw her as a threat. She wasn't supposed to have the chance to want this.
But here she was.
And for some reason, that terrified her more than anything. Shion slid the papers across the desk toward Nezu, her fingers briefly brushing the edge of the document before pulling away.
The principal, ever composed, took them with a smile.
His eyes flickered across the pages. His expression didn't change.
But she knew he noticed. How much was missing. How many blanks she had left. How carefully she had avoided answering anything too revealing. Aizawa, still leaning back in his chair, glanced at her from the corner of his eye. He must have expected this.
Shizoku, for once, was quiet.
Nezu turned a page, humming in amusement. "You know, Miss Onigahara, this is perhaps the most… 'concise' application I've received in my time as principal."
Shion didn't react.
She wasn't sure how to.
Should she apologize? Should she care?
Should she—
Nezu continued. "But, I suppose it's to be expected."
The way he said it made her uneasy. Like he already knew everything she left out. Like the empty spaces didn't matter.
Shizoku clicked her tongue. "Tch. Freaky little rat."
Nezu sighed dramatically before carefully stacking the papers. "Well! I suppose we'll just have to fill in the blanks as we go, won't we?"
Shion's fingers curled into her sleeve. "...What does that mean?"
Aizawa finally spoke. "It means we're watching you."
Shion's breath hitched.
Aizawa's stare was unwavering. "Whether you like it or not, you're in UA now. That means you're under our care. But it also means you're under our observation."
A pause.
"...If we see something dangerous, we'll act." Shion's muscles tensed.
Nezu, however, simply smiled. "No pressure, of course!"
Shizoku let out a low chuckle. "Oh, I like him. He's got guts."
Shion ignored her. Nezu folded his hands together. "That being said, I do have one more question for you."
Shion stiffened. She didn't like his tone.
"How do you feel about uniforms?"
Shion blinked. She was sure she had misheard. "…Uniform?"
Nezu's ears perked up. "Yes! You know, a school uniform? The standard attire for all UA students?"
A beat of silence. Shion's fingers twitched against the table. Her mind searched, grasping for an image, a memory—
Nothing.
The word felt foreign. Like something from a different world.
Shizoku tilted her head. "Oh. Oh, that's hilarious."
Shion stayed quiet. The principal waited, patient as ever. But when she didn't answer, Aizawa's gaze sharpened.
"You don't know what that is, do you?" It wasn't really a question. Shion's lips pressed together. She didn't need to say anything—her hesitation was enough. Nezu's expression didn't change, but she caught the slight shift in his posture. That eerie intelligence working through his thoughts.
"…I see," he murmured.
For once, Shizoku didn't laugh. But her amusement lingered. "Ohhh, that's rich. We're supposed to be the 'dangerous villain child' but we don't even know what a damn school uniform is? What a joke."
Shion gritted her teeth. The room felt too small. Too quiet.
Aizawa finally exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temples. "Great. Just great."
Shion's fists clenched. "Why does it matter?"
Aizawa's eyes narrowed. "Because it tells me exactly how much you haven't lived like a normal kid."
Shion flinched.
Nezu gave a light chuckle. "Well, no matter! We can always teach you! A uniform is quite simple, really—it's just the clothes students wear as part of a school's dress code."
Shizoku hummed. "Ohhhh. So it's a leash?"
Nezu blinked. Shion's expression didn't change. "…Leash?"
Aizawa groaned. "It's not a leash."
Shizoku snickered. "Sure. Whatever you say, Hobo Hero."
Shion, however, was still stuck on the idea. A uniform was something all students wore? Something that made them look the same? She didn't know how she felt about that. Or if she should feel anything at all.
Nezu clasped his paws together, seemingly unbothered by the tension. "Well, no worries! We'll have your measurements taken today, and you'll have your uniform soon enough!"
Shion stared.
Measurements?
Uniform?
What exactly had she gotten herself into?
And when did they have her measurements?
"Huh?"
The weight of the day sat on Shion's shoulders like an iron chain.
Too much.
Too fast.
Too many things.
The neatly folded uniform in her arms. The stack of books Principal Nezu had so kindly handed her. The lingering taste of actual food still on her tongue—richer, more complex than the bland, factory-made meals she had stolen in the past. She didn't know how to process it. She didn't know if she even wanted to.
Aizawa walked ahead of her, silent as always, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He hadn't said a word about where they were going. Shion didn't ask. She had learned long ago that asking questions rarely led to answers.
Instead, she followed.... Through UA's halls, through the entrance gates, through the quiet city streets, where the gazes of ordinary people felt heavier than her own exhaustion.
And now—into the subway station.
Shion hesitated. She had never been here before or rather she just uses her Quirk and levitating through the air or directly teleporting back to the shelter.
Too open.
Too loud.
Too many people.
The hum of conversation, the distant echoes of an announcer overhead, the rhythmic thunk-thunk-thunk of passengers stepping onto the trains. Her fingers twitched. Shizoku exhaled. "This day just keeps getting better and better."
Shion adjusted her grip on her things, her bandaged fingers clutching the fabric of her uniform a little too tight. She didn't even realize she had stopped walking until Aizawa's voice cut through her thoughts.
"What? Scared of trains now?"
Shion's head snapped up.
His tone was flat, unreadable—but his eyes weren't.
He had been watching her hesitate.
Shion bit the inside of her cheek and forced her legs forward, stepping closer to him. "No."
Aizawa didn't press. He just turned and led the way. She followed him like a little puppy.
The train ride was quiet.
She sat stiffly, back straight, as the city blurred past the windows. The books rested in her lap, but she didn't look at them. Her gaze stayed on her own reflection in the glass.
Heterochromatic eyes stared back.One blue. One red.
A painful reminder.
A mark that she would never belong, then it becomes Shizoku's face with red eyes and her typical smirk. Shizoku chuckled darkly. "Look at you. Sitting here like a lost puppy, letting Hobo Hero drag you around. Do you even know where we're going?"
Shion's fingers tightened around the book covers.
No. She didn't. But she also didn't think it would matter if she asked.
Aizawa wasn't the type to explain things ahead of time.
The subway ride ended before she could think too hard about it. Aizawa led her out of the station, down a quieter street—still too open, still too exposed.
Then, he stopped. A normal residential area. Not exactly luxurious, but comfortable. And in front of her… A house.
Shion froze. It was nothing extravagant. A simple, modern home with a modest yard. A place she shouldn't have belonged in.
Aizawa pulled out a key and tossed it to her. She caught it on instinct, staring down at the metal in her hand. "What…?"
"Your house."
Shion's breath hitched. She looked up at him, her grip on the key tightening. "What do you mean my house?"
Aizawa shrugged. "Exactly what it sounds like."
Shion's mind whirled. This didn't make sense. She wasn't supposed to have things. She wasn't supposed to have clothes. Or books. Or real food..... And she sure as hell wasn't supposed to have a house.
She swallowed, her voice rough. "Why?"
Aizawa sighed, rubbing his temples. "Because if you're gonna be at UA, you need a place to sleep."
Shion's heartbeat pounded in her ears. She wasn't dumb. She knew what this was.
There were cameras.
There was security.
This wasn't just a home—it was a cage disguised as kindness.
Shizoku snorted. "What, did you think they'd actually trust you? Please. They're not that stupid."
Shion inhaled slowly, looking away. Aizawa shoved his hands back into his pockets. "Go inside. Get some rest. School starts soon." Shion hesitated. Then, finally, she stepped forward—pushing the key into the lock and twisting it.
The door creaked open. Warm air. Clean floors. A place that felt untouched. Her throat felt dry. She stepped inside. And for the first time in her life…
She closed a door behind her.
The silence was suffocating. The moment Shion stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her, she was greeted by a stillness that felt too foreign.
No chains rattling.
No echoing screams.
No metallic scent of blood in the air.
Just… quiet. Her heterochromatic eyes swept over the room. Too clean. Too neat. Too untouched. It felt like stepping onto a stage—a perfectly built set where she was expected to play the role of a "normal" person.
Her fingers twitched at her sides as she forced herself to move.
The living room was sparse—a couch, a coffee table, a television. It all looked new, like it had never been used. She ran her fingers along the fabric of the couch. Soft. Unfamiliar. In the kitchen, she found basic appliances, perfectly arranged utensils, and a refrigerator that hummed softly.
Her stomach twisted.
She hesitated before pulling it open, bracing for emptiness—but instead, she was hit with a cold blast of air and rows of neatly organized food.
Fruits. Vegetables. Packaged meals. And in one corner… a small, sealed box of chocolate chip cookies.
Shion's breath hitched. Her fingers brushed over the plastic wrapping, her bandaged hand trembling slightly. She had only ever stolen food before—shoving whatever she could into her mouth before anyone could catch her. This was different.
This was hers.
A bitter chuckle rang in her ears. "Damn. They even stocked up on sweets for you. What's next, bedtime stories?"
Shizoku's voice was dripping with amusement. Shion gritted her teeth, shoving the fridge shut. "Shut up." Shizoku snickered but said nothing more. Shion exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her silver hair. She needed to keep moving. She wandered down the hallway, peering into different rooms—a bathroom, a storage closet, and finally… her bedroom.
Her first bedroom.
It was simple—a bed, a desk, a dresser. A window overlooked the city, the faint glow of streetlights casting long shadows across the walls. The bed looked too pristine.
She stepped forward, reaching out slowly, pressing her palm against the blanket.
Soft.
Too soft.
Her chest tightened.
She had never slept in a real bed before. For a long moment, she just stood there, staring at it—until suddenly, she felt something off. Her body tensed.
A shift in the air.
A presence.
Her head snapped to the side—and her blood ran cold. Across the room, leaning against the wall near her closet… Was a mirror.
And staring back at her from its surface—
Wasn't just her.
It was Shizoku.
Or rather, Shizoku grinning at her reflection while she stood frozen in place. Her other self wasn't mimicking her movements. Shion's fingers twitched.
"What the hell?" she muttered under her breath. Shizoku tilted her head. "Surprise."
And then—She moved.
Not like a reflection. Not like a trick of the light. Shizoku stepped forward, past the boundary of the mirror.
And for the first time in years—She wasn't just in Shion's head. She was there.
Real.
Shion staggered back."No."
Shizoku's grin widened. "Oh yes."
The room lurched. The air twisted.
And suddenly—Shion wasn't standing in her new bedroom anymore. She was somewhere else.
Somewhere darker. Somewhere she never wanted to be again.