Shion lay sprawled on the couch, her body sinking into the cushions, her limbs heavy with exhaustion. Her mind drifted, replaying the events of the day—the tests, the endless noise, the constant expectations. She let out a slow exhale and mumbled to herself, "A drama that I caused so that we would have to act together."
For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then a chuckle echoed in her mind, low and mocking. "You say that like you're the director of this mess."
Shion didn't respond. She was too tired to argue. Instead, she pushed herself up with a groan and trudged towards the bathroom. A shower—maybe that would help her clear her mind. The hot water burned against her skin, but she didn't move away. The steam curled around her, clouding the mirror and making the small bathroom feel even more isolated. She closed her eyes and let the water wash over her, drowning out the noise in her head. For a few precious moments, everything was silent.
By the time she stepped out, towel wrapped loosely around her shoulders, exhaustion had settled deep in her bones. She barely had the energy to change into a loose shirt and shorts before collapsing onto her bed, burying herself under the blankets.
But something caught her eye.
The "Clothing Allowance" paper still lay on her desk, untouched since she first pulled it out of her bag. Her lips pressed into a thin line. She hadn't even read it until now. And now that she had, it felt… strange. She sat up, hesitating for a moment before finally voicing the thought lingering in her mind.
"…Shizoku." Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant. "What kind of clothes do you like?"
For once, there was no immediate response. Shion's fingers curled slightly on the fabric of her blanket. " Stupid question. Why am I even asking?"
Then, after a beat of silence, Shizoku finally answered—her tone laced with her usual sarcasm. "Well, well, look who's suddenly interested in fashion. I didn't know you cared so much about my 'style'."
Shion scowled, but before she could snap back, Shizoku continued, her voice shifting into something more thoughtful. "Something that fits. Nothing flashy, nothing ridiculous. Long sleeves, gloves—functional but sharp. Something that makes a statement. And, of course…"
There was a smirk in her voice as she added, "A little red never hurt anyone."
Shion rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips twitched slightly. "Of course, she'd say that."
Still, she didn't argue. Instead, she reached for her sketchbook, flipping it open to a blank page.
If she was going to wear something every day as a Hero, it needed to be something she could stand. Something they could both tolerate.
She grabbed a pencil and started sketching. Hours passed. The world outside went dark, but she didn't stop. She went through ideas, scratching out ones she didn't like, adding details here and there. The hood—she definitely wanted a hood. Long sleeves, gloves, boots. A sleek design, nothing too bulky. Her outfit was shaping up to be dark blue with silver accents—subtle, but strong.
For Shizoku? Black and red, with that statement piece—the energy tiara. "A crown, huh? Tch. You really want to make me look like a Queen?"
Shion smirked slightly, twirling the pencil between her fingers. "You act like one." Shizoku's laughter echoed in her mind.
The night stretched on, but sleep never came. Instead, the sound of pencil scratching against paper filled the quiet room, as Shion worked to design something that both of them could wear.
Something that wasn't just a costume.
But an identity.
The room was silent except for the faint scratching of pencil against paper. The dim glow from the desk lamp cast long shadows, flickering over the sketches sprawled across the wooden surface. Shion's hand had grown slower, her lines less precise. Her eyelids drooped as exhaustion weighed heavily on her, but she kept pushing herself, determined to finish.
The last stroke of the pencil barely made it onto the page before her body gave in. Her hand loosened, the pencil slipping from her fingers, rolling off the desk with a quiet clatter. Shion had fallen asleep, hunched over her desk, her cheek resting against the unfinished designs.
Then, the shift happened. A slow inhale. A subtle change in posture.
Shizoku opened her crimson eyes.
For a moment, she simply sat there, gazing at the stillness of the room. The weight of the body was hers now, but it wasn't unfamiliar. Not at all. She exhaled, stretching her fingers before picking up the papers on the desk. Her sharp gaze flickered over the designs—Shion's work.
She scoffed. "Tch. So this is what kept her up all night?"
Her eyes lingered on the careful strokes, the thoughtfulness behind each detail. Dark blue, silver accents, the long sleeves, the hood—Shion was thorough when it came to things she cared about.
A bitter smile pulled at her lips.
"So, you're passionate about this, huh? Drawing? Designing?" she murmured to herself, her voice carrying a rare note of contemplation. Shizoku leaned back in the chair, holding the pages up to the light. "How ironic."
Shion had always thought of her as nothing more than the "black ego" lurking in her mind, the force dragging her down. But in reality...
Shizoku lowered the pages slightly, her gaze shifting toward the sleeping girl. "You do know I hear everything in your mind, right?"
Her voice was soft, yet the amusement in her tone was unmistakable. "Every doubt. Every fear. Every time you think about how pathetic you are."
She chuckled darkly, running a hand through her slightly red-hued hair before letting it fall back against her shoulder. "Your inner world is pitch black when you're like this. Water up to your neck, always threatening to drown you. That nightmare you refuse to face? That's just reality knocking, Shion."
She twirled the pencil between her fingers before tossing it onto the desk with a quiet thunk. "You're so damn stubborn," she muttered, crossing her arms.
This wasn't a conversation. Not really. Shizoku knew that Shion couldn't hear her—not like this. And maybe that was the only reason she could say these things at all. Her crimson eyes traced the details of the sketches once more. "You think of me as some monster lurking in the back of your mind, but let me tell you something, Shion." She tapped a finger against her temple.
"I am you. And you are me. There's no separating that." Her grip on the paper tightened slightly before she scoffed, tossing it back onto the desk. "So when you talk about killing yourself, do you ever stop to think what that means for me?"
Her voice was still calm, still teasing, but there was something else buried beneath it—something heavy. Shizoku ran a hand down her face and let out a slow breath. "You're lucky I'm better at distractions than you are, otherwise we'd both be dead already."
She glanced at Shion one last time before standing up, stretching her arms over her head. This body still belonged to her now. And for a while, Shion wouldn't even remember this conversation.
But that was fine.
Shizoku would play her role. Just like she always did.
Morning arrived in its usual, relentless manner. The soft hum of the city outside did little to pull Shion from the heavy fog of sleep, but her body moved on autopilot. She blinked blearily at the desk, the scattered papers, the faint indent on her arm where she'd been leaning on them all night.
"Oh… right. The hero costume designs."
She rubbed her eyes, letting out a deep sigh. Another day. Another cycle. The same routine, the same tired motions. But at least—
"At least you're not waking up on the operating table anymore, huh?"
Shion tensed.
"Progress, I guess." Shizoku's voice slithered through her mind like an unwelcome guest that never really left. "Though, looking at you right now, I think you might've been better off staying unconscious."
Shion ignored her, pushing herself out of the chair and dragging her sluggish feet toward the bathroom.
"Ah, the classic morning routine," Shizoku mused dramatically. "Stumble to the sink. Look in the mirror. Pretend you don't hate what you see. Rinse and repeat."
Shion sighed, peeling off her shirt. The moment she did, she was met with the familiar sight of her own reflection—wounds, scars, burns, all layered over one another like a grotesque tapestry. She stared for a long moment, silent.
Then—
"Damn. It's like looking at a failed art project."
Shion visibly flinched.
"No offense," Shizoku added, with all the sincerity of a cat knocking over a glass just to watch it fall. "Actually, scratch that. Full offense."
Shion exhaled sharply through her nose, grabbing the bandages and beginning the slow process of wrapping them around her arms and torso. "You know, you should really consider getting a hobby that doesn't involve collecting injuries. Just a thought. A revolutionary one, really."
Shion's hands paused for a brief second before continuing.
"But then again," Shizoku drawled, "what would you even do? Knitting? Oh no, wait—your hands shake too much for that."
Shion yanked the bandage a little tighter than necessary.
"Hmm. Maybe painting? But then you'd have to look at yourself in the mirror for inspiration, and we both know how that ends."
Shion let out a deep sigh, securing the last of the bandages before slipping on her uniform.
"Silent treatment? Rude," Shizoku huffed. "But fine, fine. Go ahead and pretend I'm not here. It's not like I live in your head or anything."
Shion ran a hand through her hair, smoothing it down before adjusting her tie in the mirror.
"Oh, you're actually wearing the tie today? Shocking. I give it an hour before you try to rip it off like it's personally offended you."
Shion closed her eyes for a moment.
"You love starting the day by annoying me, don't you?" she muttered under her breath.
"It's what gets me up in the morning," Shizoku replied smugly. "Well, that and the sheer joy of watching you try to function like a normal person."
Shion sighed. This was going to be a long day.
Again.
After enduring Shizoku's morning torment, Shion finally grabbed her bag and stepped out the door, letting the crisp morning air wake her up properly. Despite the dark circles under her eyes and the ever-present weight in her chest, there was one thing that made mornings slightly more bearable—food.
She walked down the familiar streets, her pace slow but steady. The convenience store she stopped by every morning came into view, and without hesitation, she entered, heading straight for the bakery section.
Her hands moved on their own, grabbing an assortment of pastries—sweet buns, melon bread, taiyaki, anything remotely sugary. Next was the candy aisle, where she wordlessly tossed a few packets of gummies and chocolates into her basket. A balanced breakfast? Maybe not. A satisfying one? Absolutely.
"You know, normal people don't eat this much first thing in the morning," Shizoku drawled, her voice laced with amusement.
Shion barely reacted, her fingers skimming the snack shelves as she considered adding more.
"Seriously, it's like you're single-handedly keeping the confectionery industry alive. Where does all this go? Oh wait—" Shizoku hummed in realization, voice taking on a teasing edge. "Right. Your hair and your—"
Shion's hand twitched as she grabbed a bag of caramels. Without missing a beat, she shot back in a low mutter, "At least I'm tall and not as flat as someone."
There was a beat of silence. Then, a slow, mocking chuckle.
"Ohhh, bold of you to talk back this early in the morning. You got some confidence from somewhere? Or did you just sugar-rush yourself into thinking you're clever?"
Shion ignored her, moving toward the register as Shizoku continued her relentless snarking.
"Besides, I don't need to be tall. I exist in your mind, dummy. If I wanted, I could make myself as tall as All Might and as curvy as that Midnight lady. You? You're stuck with whatever metabolism you got."
Shion rolled her eyes, placing her items on the counter.
"You should be thanking me, y'know? With the way you stress-eat, you'd be a blob if it weren't for me balancing things out."
That was the last straw. Shion slammed the coins onto the counter a little too hard, the metallic clatter making the cashier flinch. The poor worker hesitated before giving a polite but wary nod, quickly bagging the items and handing them over.
Shion grabbed the bag, muttering a short "Thanks" before turning on her heel and walking out, biting aggressively into a sweet bun.
"Oh? Struck a nerve? I thought we were just having fun here." Shizoku laughed, smug and unbothered. "C'mon, lighten up. You're no fun when you get all sulky—"
Shion stuffed a piece of chocolate into her mouth and pretended she couldn't hear a thing. Minutes later, Shion arrived at the train station, the familiar form of Aizawa already waiting near the platform. He stood there like a tired guardian, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. Shion made her way toward him, taking a bite of a cream-filled pastry as she did.
"Oh look, your other guardian," Shizoku teased. "Maybe we should start calling him 'Dad'? It does seem like he's been babysitting you a lot lately."
Shion nearly choked on her food.
Aizawa gave her a side glance, noting the rather large bag of sweets she carried. His expression remained unreadable as he muttered, "You planning to share or just eating enough to put yourself in a sugar coma?"
Shion swallowed her bite and simply mumbled, "Breakfast."
Aizawa sighed. "...Whatever. Just don't throw up on the train."
Shion sat down on the nearby bench, continuing to eat in silence.
"You know," Shizoku mused, "considering how much you eat, you should be twice your size. But nooo, it all goes to very specific places instead. What kind of messed-up metabolism do you have?"
Shion focused intently on her food, pretending she couldn't hear her.
Another long day awaited her. But at least, for now, she had her sweets.