Later that night, Dante's apartment welcomed in home with silence. The door clicked shut behind him as he peeled off his hoodie and kicked off his shoes, stepping over his training gear he ended up in his bathroom.
His reflection in the mirror caught his attention, long, greasy golden hair clung to his shoulders like ivy. It was even starting to curl at the ends, matted from blood and sweat. The scar on his eyebrow was darker now, more pronounced.
"…Maybe I should get my hair cut," he muttered, running a hand through the mess. But not tonight, maybe tomorrow.
The beautiful hot shower after was like a detox. Red washed down the drain. So did all the grime, sweat, the ache of bruises and that metallic stench. He made sure to cover his stitches though, don't want those getting wet.
He stood under the stream longer than he probably needed too, eyes closed , thinking about the screams, the flashes of power he felt, the blood. His blood. Their blood. Aizawa's blood.
When he finally got out, towel slung over his neck and steam rising from his body, he flopped onto the floor beside his low table, knees pulled up, and that when he saw him again.
That all too familiar younger version of himself sat across from him, legs crossed, same golden hair, just cleaner and neater.
"You were fighting with me, right? That's why I felt all the emotions you claimed to be sealing away." Dante said quietly. Drying his hair without looking away.
The younger Dante nodded. "We were mad. Really mad."
Dante frowned. "Yeah… but I don't usually feel anger. It was like… I don't know… it was like you were in control at some points. I could feel you moving some tendrils before I did it. I felt synced."
"It was probably because we weren't just one or the other then," the boy said. "Not just you. Not just me. We're both."
There was a pause, the kind of silence that only honesty could settle into.
"You are me." Dante said. "From before. From before. And I'm what you became?"
Little Dante smiled faintly. "But we can become something else now. We can join together and become someone new."
"…what if I don't want that?"
"I guess we'll see when the time comes for you to get angry, you need me in order to feel that emotion, to get stronger from that emotion."
Dante leaned against the wall, staring at little Dante.
"We almost killed people today."
"I'm aware."
"Felt good…"
"I know."
The room felt heavier for a moment. There wasn't any guilt, just awareness.
"But you didn't," little Dante said. "And I think that's because you are still deciding on your path."
Dante closed his eyes. "I want to be a hero... or I want to save people, at least."
Little Dante got closer, right up in Dante's face. "For now."
Dante snapped out of it, and little Dante was nowhere to be seen.
Tears started to form in his eyes as he stood up.
Somewhere deep inside him, he could feel himself changing, it wasn't into the villain little Dante wanted him to become, nor was it the hero present Dante wanted to become.
It was something in between.
Something even stronger.
…
…
The next day dawned slowly and quietly, no explosions, alarms or any villains like yesterday, and there was no school either. Just the hum of the city outside his window and the warm sunlight creeping along the floor.
Dante didn't know what to do while off school while recovering, he couldn't work out or train, maybe just walk around all day?
After scarfing down an absurd number of eggs and microwaving some leftover rice, he put on the grey vest Aizawa had given to him for his hero outfit and some black pants and hit the streets. No one looked at him twice, maybe taking a glance because of the mess on his head. No one could see the blood on his hands or the built up rage from yesterday. Just another kid on the street.
That hair though… it was finally driving him mad.
He had tried to be like Aizawa with the long hair, but it really didn't suit him. Every gust of wind threw it in his face. Every turn of his head came with a curtain of greasy gold and it was starting to mess with his antennae. It was too long, it was just in the way. He needed it gone.
He wandered through alley after alley, passing barbers, corner salons and even a few fancy grooming shops. But he kept walking. "I don't want to go to a barber, nothing too fancy either…" he was thinking too hard about it, he didn't want to get weird looks, spend a fortune or have to explain all the bruises. He just wanted his damn hair fixed for a reasonable price.
Eventually he found a small, tucked away place with a chill vibe and a clean glass door that read "RAZE - Hair Studio." Inside, it was mostly empty. Lo-fi music played softly. There were plants in the corners. Clean floors and no weird chemical smells like literally everywhere else.
A woman stood at the counter, idly flipping through a magazine. She had long, ginger hair that spilled down to her shoulders in waves. She also had teal eyes that flicked up when she heard the door open. There was something familiar about her. He could've sworn he'd seen someone that looked like her somewhere before, but she was older. Maybe it was someone from U.A.'s mother.
"You lost, or just need a fresh start?" She asked with a sly smile.
"…Haircut, please," Dante said, pushing his bangs out of his eyes and retracting his antennae. "I, uh… I don't know what to get. Just… make it look good, I guess, please."
She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "That's a lot of trust to put in a stranger."
Dante shrugged. "Whatever it is, it's probably better than what I've got right now…"
"Fair enough." She gestured to a chair. "Alright then, sit. Let's see what I can do for you today."
They went through the whole process, washing, detangling, snipping away what felt like half his heads weight. She worked very well, occasionally asking him to tilt his head or stay still. Dante didn't talk much, but he found the whole process really relaxing. The scissors made a nice noise. The comb was soft and the smell was great in here.
When she started styling, she stepped back and smiled. "You've got a pretty sharp face, y'know. You needed a cut that showed it off."
She spun the chair to face the mirror.
Dante blinked in surprise.
The reflection didn't feel like him at all, but it was definitely him.
His new haircut was short and textured, the sides and back were clean with a taper that faded just enough to add plenty of definition. The top was way longer, it was styled upwards and out in a messy, spiky kinda way. It looked wild without being unkept, like the hair had a mind of its own but was okay with being tamed, for now. And woven into the golden strands were streaks of crimson red, it was the exact colour of his eyes, making them stand out.
"…Damn," Dante muttered. "I look… sexy as hell."
"Good," the woman burst out laughing. "I'm glad I could help."
Dante stood, admiring the way the haircut framed his face. He actually felt lighter. Sharper. CLEANER. A little more real.
"How much?"
She waved him off. "It's on the house. Consider it a thank you for keeping those villains away and saving that Pro-Hero, my daughter told me all about it."
He paused. "Huh, your daughter? Pro-Hero? You mean Aizawa?"
She just smirked and gave him a wink. "That's right. My little girl is in U.A. high school too, not in your class though. She told me all about the attack. She wasn't there to see it, but she heard about what you did from people who did see it. And I'm glad there's someone as strong as you there to protect the school, you will make a great hero."
Dante just blushed in embarrassment, he thanked the woman and quickly left the studio feeling like a blade freshly sharpened. His senses were way better now thanks to there being less hair in the way, but he was still embarrassed.
"Come back whenever you need it cut!" The woman said with a chuckle as he rushed out.
…
…
The cut -