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The shiny cascade of blond waist-length hair was the pride and joy of Kacchan's parents. They loved the way those locks framed their child's lovely face. Masaru would spend an eternity lovingly brushing and styling it, and Mitsuki would freak out whenever her child came home with matted and muddied hair.
To Kacchan, that curtain of hair was nothing but a massive inconvenience. It was hot and annoying, it got tangled and got caught on things. And the worst of all, it prompted endless adults to fawn about how angelically pretty and cute that little girl was.
Kacchan did not want to be a pretty girl.
There had been several months of incessant begging to get rid of that mop of hair, even pointing out that Mitsuki herself had short hair, so why couldn't Kacchan have short hair too? But no amount of pleading would convince them to let their child get a much-wanted haircut.
It didn’t take Kacchan much longer to realise that creativity would be necessary in order to escape those golden locks.
"I want to play hairdressers now," Kacchan said halfway through one of the many playdates over at the Midoriyas’ little flat, smiling already at the certainty that Deku never said 'no' to anything Kacchan wanted to do.
"Okay," he said, as expected. "How do we play hairdressers?"
"I'll be your client and you'll be the hairdresser. And you'll cut my hair. Exactly how I want it to be cut." Kacchan explained, producing a large pair of scissors that had no business being in the hands of an unsupervised seven year old child.
"Uh… I thought we'd play with pretend scissors… and with pretend hair-cutting." Izuku mumbled, sensing the impending scolding that would come their way if he did what his friend wanted him to do.
"It's more fun if we use the real thing."
Izuku hesitated, looking at the scissors and then at his friend before sighing out. He went on to grab hold of them, opening and closing them in an experimental fashion before finally looking at Kacchan.
With a nod and a smile, Izuku agreed to the plan, and Kacchan couldn't help but be buzzing at the thought of finally getting rid of that scourge in the form of blond locks. Kacchan was right all along, Deku just couldn't say no.
They agreed on a little pretend scenario quickly enough, pulling out Izuku's desk chair to serve as a barber's chair and tying a blanket around Kacchan's shoulders - like real hairdressers did - even if neither child was too sure of what its purpose was.
And with that, they were ready.
“So… how would you like to have your hair cut?” Izuku asked, doing his best impression of a grown-up barber, and watching his best friend beam at him with a mixture of mischief and excitement.
“I want it cut all the way down to here,” Kacchan said, holding two fingers at jaw-length and fully intending on losing everything past that point.
"Are you sure, Kacchan? Your mum…" Izuku started, breaking character for a moment as the very real fear of being yelled at by Mitsuki Bakugo came flooding to the front of his mind.
"Yes." Kacchan said. "I'm the client, so I choose whatever I want. And you will cut my hair as I say. And if you don't, I'll find a better barber, one that isn't a big chicken."
The threat worked, even if Izuku must have been aware that there weren't too many pretend barbers competing with him within the confines of his own room.
“Okay, I’ll do it! Now stay still, and if you are nice I’ll give you stickers at the end.” Izuku said. The nice lady that cut his hair always gave him stickers, so it was only right to do the same now that he was the hairdresser.
Without much further ado, Izuku started his work.
He cut one long strand off, watching it fall at their feet and studying it for a moment. He then another two stands in quick succession, getting the hang of it. Soon enough, he was hooked, completely playing into his role as a hairstylist.
Every last ounce of hesitation faded away once Izuku realised how fun cutting hair actually was, letting go of his concern and happily busying himself with fulfilling Kacchan’s request.
The sound of scissors sliding shut paired off with the light crunch of hair being sheared off, falling to the floor in long lifeless locks, gave Kacchan joyous tingles, unable to believe that it was finally happening. There was no mirror around, but the child was absolutely certain that this haircut would be amazing, regardless of the fact that another seven-year-old without any hairdressing training whatsoever was the one wielding the scissors.
It didn't take too long for a pile of blond hair to be scattered all over the floor, leaving both children to contemplate the fruit of their mischief.
"I'm all done! I'll bring you the mirror so you can see. And stickers, because you were nice and still," Izuku announced and ran off.
Izuku returned with a mirror that had been swiped from his mum's room, holding it up to allow his friend to see what he had done.
Kacchan couldn't help but stare in awe at the child that looked back from within the mirror. The stupid pigtails tied up with colourful elastics were now gone forever, leaving behind short blond hair. It had varying lengths and very jagged edges, clearly not a professional job whatsoever, but no amount of uneven strands and odd proportions mattered at all. It looked perfect, and it felt just right.
For the first time in a while, the Kacchan’s looks and insides seemed to match somehow.
Izuku had absolutely no clue of the whirlwind excitement that had taken his friend by storm, as he proceeded to pelt the other child with hero stickers for being so good during the haircut. And Kacchan let him, not even thinking to complain about how lame his stickers were or trying to cajole Deku to part with his best stickers.
As expected, the makeover was met with horror by both mums. Inko could not stop apologising, explaining that she had been checking on them constantly and that they must have found their way into mischief in the half hour in which she was on the phone, that she had no idea where those scissors had come from, and ultimately, that she was just grateful both kids were unharmed.
Mitsuki wasn’t happy with the makeover, but part of her thought she should have been expecting this to happen; Kacchan was a stubborn little menace with no qualms around being disobedient, so she should have known this runaway bid for bodily autonomy was coming ever since her child started voicing dislike for long hair.
There was nothing left to do other than let a professional finish the botched job and even out the varying lengths of hair left behind by their playtime. As good as Deku’s work had been, the - shorter and much neater - final version was even better.
Perhaps one day in the future, the little hairdressing game and the thrill of having short hair for the remainder of childhood could be pinpointed as the beginning of something that was at the very core of existence, something Kacchan had always known but would have to find the right words to voice.
For now, Kacchan was much too young to know or understand any of the big, scary words that would later be used to explain what had just happened: the rush of elation that came with that simple haircut, the sensation of things being just right with a relatively small change in appearance, the deep gratitude felt towards Deku, who had helped do what was needed without questioning why.
For now, the words were lacking, but one thing was certain: the world was a whole lot brighter for Kacchan.