Obligatory Disclaimer:

I do not own Hero Academia, nor do I own any pop culture references made. Shion and the Koyama family are my creations, however, so please don't copy.

Foreword:

First chapter will be more family-centric because I want to make Shion as realistic as possible, which includes having her own family and the issuing relationships between them. If you're looking for an OC x whoever story, there's absolutely nothing wrong with that (the vast majority of my favourite stories on this site are under that umbrella) but this fic will probably disappoint. I wanted to focus more on the world of Hero Academia, and how it'd affect people having such a Hero-based society growing up as a teenager (I've got no idea if I achieved that, I'll let you be the judge).

Just before I stop bothering you fine people and let you get on with it, I'm writing this for fun and don't expect a lot of interest (though interest would be very welcome), so I won't make any guarantees about update times that I can't keep. Thank you for reading!

Warning:

Just as a heads-up, there's some language (couple of F-Bombs are dropped in later chapters) and violence in this fic.

Update:

Now Beta'd by the wonderful Company Cod! Thank you so much for taking the time out your day to go through this with me!

1: Shion Koyama vs. her Interfering Mother

.

"She's a violent midget in cosplay."

- Shion Koyama

"I'm just saying, there's no Villains Academy, y'know? And going would give you a chance to scope out all the future heroes, their powers and tactics and stuff. Plus, all the proper training you'd probably rack up there."

There was no reply from the kitchen, where her mother was currently bustling around for reasons beyond Shion's understanding. She couldn't have been cooking - Koyama Hanako would probably think you were attempting a robbery if you brandished a can-opener at her.

A lack of an active audience didn't particularly bother Shion, as she eased into both the subject and the sofa cushions. By this point she was just rambling for the sake of it anyway.

"Can't believe no one's thought of it before. Unless they've got some kind of tests or something. Like a, er, what's the word -background check. But that'd probably count as discrimination, right? If they rejected you for a history of family villainy, it'd be like kicking you out for a history of family alcoholism."

On the TV one of those shopping channels her mother (inexplicably) enjoyed blared with all enthusiasm of an oncoming train wreck. A flock of plastic-faced women were trying to flog some sort of rejuvenating creams made from bumble-bee ass and cactus oils, their voices increasingly desperate. She debated changing the channel, but that would require moving and Shion wasn't entirely sure she was ready for that level of commitment just yet.

"I'm just saying if you were seriously thinking of going into Villainy professionally, it'd probably give you an edge, y'know. Well, more of an edge than learning Home Economics or something at a normal High School. Unless you're going to specialise in Home Economics Villainy, I guess, but the Vacuum-inator doesn't really strike fear into the hearts of your enemy."

Her little sister, Kiku, chose that moment to wander in and, without preamble, threw herself onto her older sister's outstretched stomach. Said older sister grunted but didn't otherwise react. She'd long ago become accustomed to the ten-year-old's casual sadism.

"Kiku, pass me the remote," Shion muttered, a bit more breathlessly than before considering.

Kiku rooted around the side of the sofa. When she finally found it (pocketing whatever lose change she found first), Shion waggled a hand but Kiku's grip only tightened, flipping through the channels herself before settling on a documentary about Komodo Dragons. Which made sense, she could probably empathise with the cold-blooded predators. Only when she had made herself further comfortable on Shion's stomach did Kiku deign to type up her reply on the portable Tablet. With her Voice Augmentation Quirk still about as focused as a drug-addled monkey at a rave, Kiku had been regulated to a speech aided communication system after she'd managed to scream the third floor of her primary school down. Literally.

"Go die."

The best tactic was to fight aggression with affection. Shion knew that if there was one thing that embarrassed Kiku, it was the fact they were related.

"Aww, Kiku-chan! I knew you loved me," she reached out a hand to lazily pat at Kiku's head, and immediately ended up getting smacked in the shoulder courtesy of the (unwilling) recipient of her affections. So vehement was Kiku's slap that it somehow knocked her older sister's hand off course and up the ten-year-old's nose instead.

Kiku batted her hand away furiously, and Shion chuckled. Irritating her little sister was far more entertaining than any nature documentary. After half-heartedly trying to roll the stone-faced ten-year-old off for a couple of minutes, she decided to step up her game and managed to pull a leg free before shoving her foot under Kiku's nose.

"C'mon, Kiku, rub Nee-san's bunions~"

"Eww, you troll."

Shion chuckled, marvelling at how pruned they were even though she'd stepped out the shower a good ten minutes ago.

"They look like E.T.'s ballsa-"

"Shion-chan!"

At the sound of Hanako's excited yelp, Shion moved faster than she had in the past three hours. Probably three days, if she were honest. Kiku was sent flying into the Kotatsu as she bolted upright, stammering denials already crouched on her tongue.

Her mother hurtled into the living room in a cloud of overpowering perfume, looking very much like an overexcited marshmallow. Even with rollers in her pink hair and a baggy tracksuit on, Hanako's 'casual' wear most likely cost more than other people's entire wardrobes (though expense didn't necessarily equate taste). It was diamante phone case glamour, it was grocery shopping with a face full of makeup glamour, it was garish ornaments and fur rugs and western style bathrooms in lime green glamour. But it was glamour, nonetheless, and Hanako had never failed to 'casually' drop how much she'd paid for everything in conversation.

"Repeat what you just said!"

Shion blinked. Her buttocks gradually unclenched as it became apparent that she wasn't about to be suplexed through the Kotatsu. Kiku's expression soured for the same reasons.

"E.T.'s…ballsack?"

"What? No!"

"Ah, good," Shion nodded to herself and smiled. "Unless you're up for a game of 'guess the puppet genitalia'? It's fun for the whole family-"

"Shion, concentrate! I meant the stuff about the Hero Academy," she encouraged somewhat manically.

"Oh! Right, yeah, I was just saying-"

Apparently she's going too slowly for her mother, which wasn't much of a deviation from the norm since some Rocket-Propelled Grenades probably moved too slowly for her mother's tastes. Most of Hanako's conversations were predictably one-sided. Shion usually made a perfunctory effort to get a word in here or there, for appearance's sakes if nothing else, but all resistance eventually proved futile.

"Going to the Academy would be the perfect opportunity to –what was the term you used?"

Shion opened her mouth, then closed it again with a huffed laugh as her mother bulldozed impatiently onwards regardless.

"'Scope out the future Heroes', learn their tactics, their powers, everything. If you played your cards right, that's years of insider information that other Villains would die for. Most of the teachers are actual Heroes too! And the access to training facilities and equipment will definitely give you an edge–yes, yes, it's perfect!" Hanako clapped her hands, clearly pleased with herself, and smiled at her daughter expectantly. "So, you'll do it then?"

Shion raised a brow. That smile looked ominous.

"I'm probably gonna regret asking…but do what?"

Kiku snorted. Shion nudged her back onto the Kotatsu with a pruned toe and blinked innocently when she shot her a glare.

"Oh, do keep up, Shion-chan," Hanako sighed affectionately, smoothing at her hair as if she were an adorable but particularly dim pet. "You'll apply for U.A!"

"What? Me?" Shion blinked, her brain stuttering into alert mode.

"Well, who else would I be talking about? Of course you!" Hanako huffed with a petulant pout. "…It's a good idea."

"Yeah, but I wasn't seriously suggesting that someone do it, y'know? Especially not me. Can't someone else do it? What about Kiku?" Shion waved an arm at the little girl in question. "I know she's about 3cm tall and useless, but they could flick her at the enemy or something."

"Asshole."

"Don't swear, Kiku-chan."

"Sorry, mama."

"And she's ten! She's not old enough to apply," Hanako reprimanded, though she was simultaneously eyeing the girl up like the suggestion had some merit. As a backup plan, if nothing else.

"She's not a ten-year-old," Shion scoffed, "she's a violent midget in cosplay."

Hanako stared at her blandly for a moment, before her a heavily-ringed hand snaked out and swiped her up the back of the head. If she wasn't completely awake before, she definitely was now.

"Ow, Okaa-san! They aren't gonna let me in if my skull's flatter than a corkboard, y'know," Shion hissed.

Rebelliously, she wondered if her mother had curled her rollers too tight. The woman's brains were clearly leaking out her rear. It had been her idea originally, but that wasn't really a glowing recommendation for its feasibility. Then again, expecting her adult parents to act like, well, actual adults in most given situations should have registered as a waste of time by now.

Her mother, in particular, had always had a penchant for taking one of her ideas or requests and basically injecting it with a metric shit-ton of steroids. She could only hope that whatever mad scheme was currently cooking in Hanako's brain cooled by the time tomorrow came around.

"I mean, it's not like you had any sort of plan, bar the obvious family business, anyway," Hanako continued, dauntless in the face of her daughter's scrunched, confused expression. "You haven't even bothered looking at any of the brochures for the other High Schools or studied, just lazed about the house for the past how many weeks."

"Heh, yeah."

"Don't look so proud!" Hanako's manicured hand slapped upside the back of Shion's blonde head again.

Kiku, still attempting to right herself, smirked triumphantly. Justice had been served. Yet by the time Shion registered the blow and shot an offended look at her wildly gesticulating mother, Hanako's mood had whip-lashed back into excitement again.

"So you'll do it then?"

"Are you going to keep pimp-slapping me if I refuse?"

"It's likely."

"And you're not gonna stop bugging me about it either, I suppose?"

Hanako's smirk was devious. "Most definitely. I'll sign you up then, shall I?"

Shion, who would do most things for an easy life, nodded distractedly. "Yeah, yeah."

And that, she hoped, was the end of it.

/-/-/

It was not the end of it.

The next day, her mother dragged her from her futon and slammed an application form in front of her barely-coherent daughter. Shion blearily filled it in, slumped back to bed and slept past her alarm. The next week, she was corralled into training with her mother and equally-badgered father, who was only vaguely more serious about the debacle than she was.

Training pretty much consisted of her and her father beating the living daylights out of each other in the reinforced garage until the cement cracked or Hanako stopped 'surveying' their progress and they could go back to their own devices (looking up obscure bands or watching idiots hurt themselves on YouTube). Considering that this was where the couple usually stored their loot, it was both nigh impenetrable and sound-proof enough to escape Hanako's busybodying.

Her father, Koyama Hiroki, had even managed to smuggle down some posters, a handful of office fans and a few beanbags in what he called 'funky colours' (funky colours apparently consisted of tie-dye and neon polka-dots), in an attempt to make the bare concrete cube look slightly more hospitable. She'd even heard him refer to it semi-seriously as a 'man cave' - which had been disturbing.

In comparison to her father's laidback approach, her mother had commandeered both Shion's physical and educational schooling with a ferocity usually reserved to street brawls and shopping sprees. At least she was frequently distracted. There were short but intense bursts of hovering over Shion when she was studying to pepper her with questions (most of which were irrelevant to the topic, anyway), or jogging in swanky tracksuits on strategically convenient routes to maximise neighbour envy. Shion spent much of it sneaking back into the house. Or sneaking sweets. Or just wandering off altogether.

Honestly though, Shion was enjoying taking advantage of her parents continued presence and attention too much to think about the actual end-goal. Or to let herself think about the actual end goal. They hadn't accepted or planned any new heists, even though she knew for a fact that their sticky fingers must have been getting itchy. Breakfast hadn't been shared with a hostage from a big city bank, nor was dinner interrupted by some overzealous Hero bursting from their kitchen cabinets. She'd even managed to relax her shoulders slightly when walking to and from school.

It wasn't anything new exactly. For a good portion of her life, her parents usually swung into and out of these phases (or 'went into family mode' as her older brother, Hiroto, called it) after a big job, when the threat of capture had sent them careening home like the entire Hero population was on their heels. Then they'd inevitably get bored, disappear for a few weeks and be straight back with presents and smiles and takeout menus and keys to a new house because it was imperative they move before the cops tracked them. Well, that, or they ended up in prison, as had been the case on one occasion that Shion was determinedly not going to revisit.

There was no point getting angry about it, that's just who her parents were. And besides the routine hiccups, they weren't bad parents by any stretch of the imagination. Everyone had their vices, and moping about like she was starring in an edgy music video just because her parents' particular vices involved criminal charges wouldn't solve anything. So Shion usually just tried to savour it when she could and ignore the tight, little ball of dread fisting in her gut that told her it'd be all over again any day now. It worked for the most part, but this grace period was lasting far longer and that sickly feeling was growing more potent with every mention of her mother's plan.

A little strange, sure, but it didn't mean anything. She was probably getting paranoid over nothing. Any day now, her mother would whip out a set of blueprints or her father would subtly (or what he thought was subtly) hint that he 'knew a guy, who knew a guy, who knew a guy' and the world would right itself again.

Shion was still convinced this was another of her mother's flights of fancy right up until she received a letter inviting her to the U.A. Entrance Exam.

"Holy shit."

Hanako's head snapped up from where she was simultaneously painting her nails a hot pink and playing Go with Kiku on her tablet. "What? What, what, what, what?"

Clearly she knew what, or at least suspected, because her doughy face was alight with childish glee. She bustled over to where Shion was standing in the hall, bumping her daughter aside with her hips before tearing the letter away. It wasn't hard; Shion's grip had been so limp it was a wonder it hadn't blown away already.

Hanako squealed. Actually squealed. And that was the moment that Shion knew the world had gone insane.

"Hiroki! Hiroki, get down here! You'll never believe it~" Hanako was already half-way up the stairs, brandishing the letter like an Olympic torch, formidable bust bouncing dangerously with every step.

Shion stared blankly at the ugly wallpaper ('Glamourous dream,' as it had been named in a horrendously misguided attempt at class, was a hellish combination of faded baby pink and craft store glitter glue).

Okay, so…this was actually happening.

She wasn't sure how she felt at that moment. Panic, beyond the fact that she wasn't panicking when she should be, hadn't really registered. Why hadn't she applied for Fukuoka College of Health Sciences? It was local and the second best option for most of her peers. Sure, she wasn't actually interested in a career in the Health sector nor did she really have the grades since she'd been content to cruise through her education at a happy medium, but at least a nurse didn't have to constantly rub elbows with Hero wannabes. Instead she'd let herself be strong-armed into this because she didn't know what to do otherwise, and it'd got her mom and teachers off her back for the time being. She hadn't thought she'd actually have to go through with it.

Shion felt slightly like she'd been body-slammed. There was a disconnect. She really was going to have to go through with this.

"Nee-san, are you okay?"

Shion blinked. Kiku was standing in the doorway leading into the main house, hands clasping the frame and tablet hugged to her chest. Because she was often scowling or looking bored, it was easy to forget how young and apple-cheeked her little sister was.

To Shion, Kiku was easily the cutest thing to ever threaten to murder her in her sleep (she was cute in other situations too, but in that category she was a resounding winner) but putting blatant bias aside, she wasn't traditionally the most adorable kid.

With baby-blue eyes, pastel pink hair (like Hanako) and a penchant for oversized clothing (unlike Hanako), Kiku had all the right criteria. But she had the Koyama eye shape, thin and sweeping upwards, and her teeth too squirrelly,with guppy lips like Shion. Much like Kiku herself, her hair was far too uncooperative despite the best efforts of a boyishly short style and a vast collection of barrettes and hats (today she was sporting a baseball cap with the Fukuoka SoftBank Hawks logo, probably stolen from their older brother). Kiku was a disjointed patchwork of soft and hard edges that, when not irritated, gave her an air of being in constant discomfort.

Shion exhaled explosively and forced a smile, something that became easier when Kiku's expression lifted from shy concern.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," Shion flashed her a thumbs up and instantly felt like an idiot.

Kiku's prior shy concern instantly shifted into suspicion.

"You're acting like a weirdo."

"Weirdo? Bah!" Shion waved her off with exaggerated ease, barking a stilted laugh as she did so. "I'm just really pumped, y'know? About Hero… stuff. Like saving old ladies from trees and colour-scheming my pants to match my boots and stuff. I mean, I've been waiting my whole life to scream demented puns just before maiming people. So this is gonna be – wow! It's gonna be… gonna be…"

Kiku whistled once sharply, not enough to make anyone bleed from the ears, but just enough gain the attention of their parents as Shion spiralled into her wallpaper, returning to her fugue state.

"Mama! I think you broke Nee-san."

/-/-/

Shit. The word Shion had been looking for was 'shit'.

It was gonna be shit.

That was the thought circling around Shion's head like a particularly persistent buzzard. She had hoped that escaping her parents' attentions (which had become oddly suffocating now that Shion was digesting her acceptance to U.A.) in the local arcade would sufficiently distract her. After all, there was no such thing as an unhappy person at an arcade. Well, that had been Shion's belief prior to becoming an unhappy person at an arcade.

"Nee-san, money."

Kiku swatted her unresponsive sister hard enough that Shion blinked. The looping beeps and tinny musical notes registered, mirroring her own thoughts bouncing from one to the other to the other ad infinitum. Machines were packed shoulder to shoulder in unfocused bursts of flashing neon, bold primary colours and cutesy frills. Bar a huddle of young boys cheering and goading one another on at a boxing simulator further down, the arcade was surprisingly empty, reducing the expected claustrophobia to an almost uncomfortable degree. Much like theme parks, arcades were meant to be busy; otherwise, they just looked a little sad.

The Koyama sisters had been there for the past two hours and Shion had hoped that the chaos would distract her. If anything, the wash of cartoon faces and impersonal linoleum flooring was making her feel more nauseous. Though she'd tried her best, hunkering down on a stool in the corner next to the machine Kiku was playing on, it was impossible to hide among all the bright lights and melted butter smell.

"Eh?" Shion removed one earbud, only now realising that she'd been so zoned out that she wasn't even aware of what song was blasting out the other.

"Money," Kiku repeated and thrust out a hand for good measure.

"Tut, tut, tut. Where are your manners, Kiku-chan?" she was already reaching for her wallet, but felt the need to scold her for appearance's sake.

"Up your ass," Kiku thrusted her hand out again. "Money."

"Brat," Shion huffed a laugh, lazily pushing against Kiku's forehead. "Can't you be nicer to your sister while she's in the midst of a mental breakdown, huh?"

Mental breakdown? Surely that wasn't what it was. Shion imagined that most mental breakdowns involved far more damage to public property, sobbing uncontrollably in crowded places and (if she were feeling feisty) poop flinging. Although the pit her stomach had been sinking into for the past weeks did indicate that she wasn't at her best.

Of all the half-formed ramblings over the years, why did her mother have to latch onto that one? This wasn't just a 'try and see how it goes' situation. This was her education, her future. Boxing herself into Heroics didn't really supply her with any applicable skills elsewhere, and what if she failed? Prospects for Hero dropouts were almost non-existent. And there was a high chance that she would fail; her Quirk was up to standard, but Shion doubted they were grading on that alone. There was probably some 'strength of character' bullshit criteria that Shion (being an impeccable example of moral fibre) had no hope of spotting, never mind actually meeting. She was so unbelievably screwed. There were crippled, gimp monkeys with better chances of passing than her.

Kiku swatted her again and Shion hissed in a breath, shooting the bland-faced girl a wounded look before depositing a fistful of Yen into her open palm.

What if she passed? Despite the media's best efforts to convince the general public otherwise, Hero work was not the most glamourous or easy of occupations. Shion knew the truth, had seen it first-hand. The majority of Heroes were called out to the kind of predictable fallout that came with a population that consisted of people who could literally melt things with their morning breath. Domestic disputes where a spouse had put the other one through a supporting wall of a high rise block of flats. Bullied kids who decided they'd had enough and tried to poison the entire student body. Rape via deception because someone thought they were spending a night with their lover and not a stranger that could morph into an exact replica. And that was only the cases where there was a clear guilty party.

She wasn't cut out for that. She wasn't ready to fish some kid out of a burning wreck because his father had had a bad day at work and decided to turn the living room into a lava pit. She wouldn't even know what to say. What did you do in those kind of situations?

"Nee-san."

Shion blinked again, vaguely surprised that they were now outside. After exhausting either her patience or older sister's wallet, Kiku had led Shion out by the hand and Shion had unconsciously followed. Kiku glared apprehensively at the river of foot traffic lured out by the decrease in temperature. It was relatively cooler for Fukuoka, but that didn't mean much by normal standards. Shion could already feel the humidity wetting her vest top to her back. Endless blue, cloudless sky ran its fingertips over telephone wires. She swore she could feel the concrete cooking underneath her feet, undeterred by a mild salt breeze rolling out from the nearby sea.

That and the crowd, at least, felt slightly more stabilising. Unlike her little sister, Shion had always preferred city life. The energy and comfort of being among a million strangers, the undemanding company carrying on with their lives and own worries. No one liked being around a bored, lonely Shion – least of all Shion herself.

"Hm, yeah?"

Kiku tugged on her arm, and Shion obediently squatted down so her sister could scramble none-too-gently onto her shoulders. Shion tried not to wallow too much on how she'd been regulated to a ten-year-old's bank and beast of burden.

"Comfortable up there?" Shion questioned as she very carefully grasped Kiku's ankles. "Would milady prefer a cushion to protect her most royal ass?"

"You're a royal ass."

"A Royal ass, you say?" Shion repeated with all the gravitas of a Shakespearean actor. "My lady does me an honour!"

They a veritable odd couple with Shion in her usual punk getup of ripped tights, chunky boots, choker and studded denim shorts, tucked into which was a frayed vest-top proclaiming some mildly offensive slur in (probably misspelled) English. Kiku's frilly summer dress speckled with daises and dandelions and peonies, matched with flip-flops and a wide sunhat was age appropriate at least, though it was somewhat off-kilter when the ten-year-old seemed determined to scowl at everyone and everything like a grumpy pensioner.

"Y'know you might be onto something there, Kiku-chan," Shion tilted her head back slightly, grinning. "What do you think, huh? Should I get name tags? 'Koyama Shion: Royal Ass'."

Kiku 'hmphed'. "I wish I was an only child."

"If you were an only child, you'd have to walk around with your own tiny, tiny, teeny legs," Shion continued as they set off, Kiku's head swivelling about as she read the passing signs or stared at some strange looking pedestrian, "and then you'd have to fight off ants with little matchstick spears, and make some kind of grappling hook out a paperclip. It'd be adorable."

"Don't patronise me."

"But it would be adorable!" Shion sniffed. "Most adorable indeed, as decreed by the Royal Ass."

Instead of a verbal reply, Kiku settled for kicking her older sister in the armpit.

They weren't in the city proper, but the buildings were high and the foot traffic heavy enough that the distinction meant little to Kiku. She grew progressively unresponsive and clingier the thicker the crowds became. Shion left her to it (despite the visual obstruction the ten-year-old's sweaty palms were becoming); even if their earlier conversation had proved to be distracting enough to stop her thoughts, goading an already socially anxious Kiku wasn't worth the accompanying guilt. With nothing to divert her attention, Shion's thoughts snapped back to the subject of U.A. like a released elastic band.

For people who spent so much time exposed to the less savoury parts of society, she would have thought that they'd lean a little more towards subjective thinking. But no, it was all 'I'm good, you're bad' and 'smile for the camera while I put this guy through the grinder.' Indelicate black-and-white justice that ruined lives as often as it saved them, even with the established rules set down by the government. Shion shuddered to think what it had been like in the age of Vigilantes where even those stop gates weren't present – she, Kiku and Hiroto would probably have been orphans.

And if their lack of sensitivity towards situations that deserved it wasn't off-putting enough, it was their lack of sensitivity afterwards. Shion could remember her and Hiroto's infuriated ranting after Crimson Riot had paralyzed an arms dealer and replied to accusations of excess force with 'it was unfortunate, but he (the arms dealer) had to know what was going to happen when he lived a life of crime.' Like crime was something that would just go away if you punched it enough, and not a complex problem that had been plaguing humanity since there was a humanity to plague.

Sometimes the criminals weren't even criminals in the traditional sense; sometimes they were people (like Kiku) who couldn't control or had been negatively affected by their Quirks. Of course, they caused situations that were dangerous, but was shooting heat-seeking lasers at a guy whose Self-Multiplication Quirk had suddenly given him extreme Schizophrenia honestly the best way to resolve the issue? Then said guy gets three years in Villain's Prison and a criminal record, effectively ostracising him from polite society and further exasperating a serious medical issue. Even if the criminal record didn't kill off all his future job prospects, the stigma alone would verify that the rest of his life was going to a hopeless, lonely mess. Because in a Hero's eyes, there'd be no difference between this man and some murdering asshole who just wanted to kill someone.

Heroes didn't want to fix crime. They didn't even want to understand it. Without Villains, there wouldn't be any Heroes, so all they cared about was having someone to defeat and from what angle they looked best doing so. For the vast majority it was all about the funding, the public image – the brand, not actually helping their community in any meaningful way. They should've had at least the dignity to be honest about their fame and financial motivations (the despised Villains were, after all), instead of crowing on about 'truth, beauty and justice.'

Becoming like them, growing up to be the boogeymen that had contaminated her and her siblings' childhoods with well-deserved paranoia, would be a hell Shion would rather not contemplate. Honestly, she'd rather use her Quirk to get one of those furniture removal jobs than for that – it'd be mind-numbingly boring and her mom would badger her relentlessly about wasting her 'talent', but at least she'd be able to recognise herself.

Shion paused outside the door to a convenience store just so she and Kiku could take advantage of the air conditioning for a moment. She plucked at her vest top and shivered pleasantly at the coldness fanning over her sweaty back.

"Nee-san, I want an ice cream…please."

"Just the one, alright? Take a little mercy on my poor wallet, Kiku-chan."

Obeying her tiny overlord, Shion ducked obediently instead and loitered around the frozen isle while Kiku debated the merits of competing ice pop flavours. Shion didn't bother questioning how Kiku was capable of identifying them all while perched on her shoulders.

"Tropical burst," Kiku demanded

"Eh? You said you hated it last time," Shion frowned, mostly to herself. "In fact, 'tastes like old people farts' were your exact words. Not the most… eloquent of food reviews, can't imagine they'll be using it as their promotional tagline, y'know."

"I want it."

"I'm not buying it if you're just gonna smash it over people's heads like a demented dwarf. Pick something else. What about-"

Kiku interrupted before her older sister could begin rambling again. "But I want that one."

"Kiku, don't be a brat," Shion groaned.

Without typing anything new, Kiku began glaring and pressing the speech button on her tablet repeatedly in open rebellion. "That one. That one. That one. That one."

Shion just sighed. Deeply. Already sensing the next words and therefore her impending defeat.

"I'll scream."

"Alright, pipe down Yoda. I'll get you the shitty ice cream." With a huff, Shion rooted around in the cooler before holding the ice pop aloft.

Kiku wisely snatched it from her hands before her elder sister could reconsider. Shion really didn't want to deal with the effort needed to out-stubborn her little sister and clean up the ensuing destruction one of her tantrums would cause. Her mother would probably have advised that by caving to a child undermined her authority, but it was hard to stick to her guns when the child in question could cut through three tons of steel by yelling and 'her authority' wasn't really among Shion's concerns. Even so Shion still felt the expectation (though not necessarily the desire) to at least attempt to look like she was in control.

"But I swear if you smack me around the head with it or start whining, I'll punt you into the sea, alright?" Even to her own ears, it sounded like a hollow attempt to pacify.

Kiku surprisingly kept her mouth shut as Shion paid. Most likely satisfied that she gotten what she wanted…for the moment, anyway.

So she was basically going to waste how many years studying at U.A. for a career track she had no intention at all of pursuing. Because her mother had basically bullied her into it. Then again, her resistance had been passive at best, so did it classify as bullying if you just went along with it? Well, her mother should have picked up on her disinterest! After all, being a mind-reader was one of the divine duties of a mother. And now Shion was horribly stuck.

Even though she'd had no prior interest in the whole 'High School Debut' business, she'd unconsciously had some kind of impression of what it'd be like and this wasn't it. It was all very well her father telling her that the experience would probably be the same (somehow despite the inclusion of death lasers and caped PE uniforms), but it wasn't her dad's life, he wasn't the one who'd have to live through it each day. If it truly did suck all the joy out of her (which was pretty much the scenario Shion was expecting) then he and mom could give her a hug and sympathise, while having the envious luxury of going back to their own lives and not having to deal with it all in the morning.

Shion sighed. Spiralling helplessly around in depressing mental circles wasn't helping at all. Worrying at the same thoughts was only stressing her out. Growing up with two Villain parents, never mind eccentric (which was just a polite term for 'bat shit insane') ones at that, Shion had long ago become accustomed to stress. The less of it, the better.

Maybe…maybe she could just tell her mother to call it off.

Suddenly Shion ground to a stop, nearly toppling Kiku with an indignant and quickly muffled squawk of protest. The thought had merit! It had begun with her mother's insistence, maybe the only way for it to end was with her mother's insistence? And she did had time to apply somewhere else, right? Probably. Who cared, she could study in a bin bag as long as it wasn't U.A.

"Watch what you're doing, idiot."

But how exactly was she supposed to get Hanako on side when this was the first thing she'd seen her mother so excited about that didn't involve illegal activities? Shion's Quirk effectively silenced any protests she could have had about the danger involved, and she'd never shown enough interest in another prospective career to not make it look like desperate grabbing.

Couldn't she just say that she didn't want to do it? Her parents had always been pushy in an odd, subtle way but they'd never consciously done something to upset any of their children. Shion was sure that if she did tell them that this was something she seriously did not want to do, they'd get her out of it immediately. She could have laughed at what an idiot she'd been, moping about and torturing herself over this for weeks when the answer was so obvious.

All she had to do was ask.

So why did asking seem like the hardest thing in the world?

/-/-/

"Shion, is there a reason you're hovering over me?"

Shion had indeed been hovering. For the past three hours. And she hadn't been exactly subtle about it either, if the side-eyed looks her mother had been giving her was any indication. The lack of the 'chan' suffix was foreboding to say the least.

"Do I need a reason to stalk my beloved Okaa-san?"

Hanako placed the little bottle of 'seashell pink' nail polish on the kotatsu with a neat little 'tink' before redirecting her attention to her daughter. "Am I going to need a restraining order?"

Shion blinked, "Eh? No, well I-"

"Then you're not stalking me," Hanako smiled saccharinely, "you're just bothering me. Sit down, I can't relax with you fussing about like that. It's unnatural."

"I am sitting down," Shion protested.

Which was true, even if it was rather stiffly, a feat in itself as the Koyama sofa was one of those voluminous affairs made from the kind of well-worn material that seemed to swallow its patrons whole. When they were young, she and Hiroto had made a game of unearthing all sorts of treasure buried under its seats. Hiroto had even found a fossilised egg once (Shion was pretty sure it was from a chicken, but he had been adamant that it was a dinosaur egg), and hadn't stopped crowing on about it for a week. Well, until he'd gotten bored of it and launched it from his school roof anyway.

"You're not sitting down properly, you're just…perching," Hanako sniffed and gave her a look. "It's putting me on edge."

Normally, that sort of soft-toothed pestering wouldn't bother Shion in the slightest. But normally Shion wasn't a human-shaped ball of barely restrained anxiety, and therefore her reaction was decidedly not normal. With a grunt, Shion flung both her legs up in a V and strained until her toes were lightly kissing the back of the sofa. If she gripped her thighs, she could just about peer out like some sort of bizarre crab.

"There, far more comfortable. Happy?"

Hanako was less than impressed with her daughter's gymnastics. Never taking her eyes off Shion, she blew on her nails, expression flat. "…Shion, I am not having a conversation with you from between your legs- "

"Didn't expect to hear that from my mother," Shion muttered.

Hanako's brow just hitched. Shion tried for a conciliatory grin, but it must have come out a little too crooked, a little too tense and vulnerable, because suddenly her mother was all gentle concern.

"What's going on with you? You seem keyed up. Are you nervous about the Entrance Exam?"

"No, it's-"

"Because you'll do fine, I know you will," Hanako shot her a wicked, self-assured smile, the kind they used to print big on the newspapers when she was younger and the Villain 'super couple' had pulled off a particularly impressive heist.

"You're my daughter, Shion-chan; you're a smart cookie when you put your mind to it, and I'm pretty sure you knocked the wind out of Hiroki with those muscles of yours more than once, hm?"

That would have been the ideal opportunity to tell her. She'd even been given the perfect set-up. Shion could feel the words curling in the back of her throat, an opening of 'yeah, actually I've been sort of meaning to tell you…' just begging to be unfurled. But for the life of her she just couldn't seem to give them breath.

She thought back to her mother's excitement as they went through pile after pile of application paperwork, her gloating to the other mothers outside Kiku's primary school about her U.A.-accepted daughter. She thought of the way her father jostled her shoulders after training like they were two comrades, the proud gleam in his purple eyes as he patted one of his massive hands over her head.

They'd always, always loved her, always made a far larger deal out of her accomplishments than was strictly needed and, when they actually were at home, took an (almost intrusive, at times) interest in what she was doing or her hobbies. But she'd always felt like she'd let them down in that regard. Shion had never been ambitious or determined like her siblings. While Kiku was getting the grades and Hiroto flew and fought his way around the known world, Shion had just kind of been…there – more of a companion really, chatting with her mom or jamming with her dad.

As much as she hated the thought of U.A., it was the first time Shion felt somewhat up to par with her parents' admittedly impressive lifestyle. Would going to U.A. be that bad? Yes, yes it would. Yet still, she found her confession walled up behind some mental block.

She was simultaneously relieved and frustrated when Hanako asked. "Are you worried about some kind of Funk thing?"

"Eh? Funk?" Shion's face creased with confusion.

"Y'know, that music you like. Though honestly, Shion-chan, I don't think the heavy eye-liner and ear piercings are something you should be going for. I mean I don't have a problem with it but you might give people the wrong impression-"

"Oh! You mean Punk."

"Is there a difference?"

"Wow…just wow," Shion sighed, disappointed that those words had just come out the mouth of the woman that birthed her. "There's a massive difference, Okaa-san, unless I've just managed to magically sprout an afro and flares."

The touching moment was effectively ruined when her father poked his grinning face around the door frame, jingling a bag of take-out at them. "Who wants burgers?"

Koyama Hiroki was a big, amicable teddy-bear that sometimes crushed Bank Vaults with his bare hands. Back in the day, he'd been a real hot-blooded delinquent and lead guitarist to some small-time punk band (between being a criminal, of course), with an encyclopaedia of tattoos, scars and cigarette burns to prove it. Shion had heard every story about his wild days (well, wilder) at least twice, Hiroki never tired of telling them complete with enthusiastic arm gestures and sound effects. He was just that type of guy - loud, personable, thicker than a bag of rocks on occasion, and impossible to hate.

"Yes, Tou-san," Shion grinned, patting her still protruding rump. "I've already got a nice, little ass-tray going on here."

Her father laughed in that big, excitable dog way of his, all deep timbre and sincere amusement. "That's some quality workmanship- "

"Idiot," Kiku (who'd joined him on his quest for food, and clearly took more time removing her shoes than her father's habit of kicking them off in the general direction of the shoe rack) shoved past.

Shion and Hiroki blinked at one another, before the former murmured. "I'm not even sure which of us that was directed at."

"Eh? Kiku-chan, can't you be a little nicer to your papa, huh? I know I'm pretty impressive but I've still got feelings, y'know," Hiroki whined as he followed the pint-sized ice-queen into the kitchen.

Shion was just unfolding herself to join them when a heavily-ringed hand gently snagged her arm. Her mother looked up at her, the high cheekbones and plump, glossy features usually slightly cartoonish always looked far more tangible when concerned.

"Shion-chan, if something's really bothering you, you know you can talk to me or Hiroki, right?" Hanako murmured softly.

"Yeah, I know, Okaa-san," Shion smiled though it was more for her mother's benefit. Oddly, she felt like she was comforting Hanako, not the other way around.

"Because…I know we've not always been there for you…in the past but-"

"It's okay, Okaa-san, I know," Shion cut her off, unwilling to exhume that particular part of their past and uncomfortable with the naked hesitation on her mother's face. It was upsetting somehow, to see so much uncertainty on someone so bold. Her mother looked immediately grateful, at any rate.

"Alright then," Hanako clapped and grinned.

She pressed a lipstick kiss to her daughter's cheek before swaying into the kitchen, her arrival eliciting another burst of noisy chatter from Hiroki. Shion hesitated for a moment, listening to the commotion ensuing in the kitchen where her family was undoubtedly divvying up their portions (with Hiroki attempting to steal everyone else's). There was no way she could bring it up now.

She'd just have to wait to bring it up at the perfect time.