I was waiting for my laundry to be done and felt like writing something ridiculous. This story is my one true masterpiece.
In a very unfortunate turn of events, Matsuda had somehow fallen in love with Aizawa's afro.
Oh, he knew it wasn't a normal thing, of course—people falling in love with other people's hair was more than just strange; it was downright unheard of. It was the type of tragic, unrequited romance that was never written about in books (or movies, or plays, or any other form of media for that matter), and Matsuda himself could understand why. There was no one he could think of who would be willing to pay to see a poor soul's fruitless pursuit to win over the nonexistent affections of another man's skin follicles.
Aizawa's afro was a cornucopia of impossibilities. It would never hold Matsuda at night, or sing him to sleep, or brush his hair despite being hair itself, but Matsuda couldn't help but stare at the way it bounced with Aizawa's body every time he took a step or moved in some way. Sometimes, Aizawa would shake his head at Matsuda in disapproval. Matsuda loved these occasions. He knew that Aizawa didn't like him, but that didn't change the way he felt about his hair and the way it jiggled. He couldn't explain it—that afro just turned him on.
Matsuda knew that if he ever told Aizawa's afro how he felt about it, it wouldn't be able to understand neither the implications nor the passion behind what he was saying. It was, after all, an afro, and an afro was not a sentient being. Matsuda doubted that it ever would be.
And yet, that never stopped Aizawa's afro from being so in his dreams. At night, when Matsuda dreamed, "afro dreams" (as he secretly dubbed them) were a regular occurrence. In these dreams, Aizawa's afro spoke to him, and Aizawa's head wasn't there. Well, rather, it wasn't that Aizawa's head wasn't there so much that Aizawa's head had transformed itself into one gigantic afro. And so had his body.
Aizawa had, in a sense, literally become one with his own afro.
If Matsuda was granted a single wish, it wouldn't be to take down Kira (though that would be nice, too). No, if Matsuda was granted a single wish, he would use it to have Aizawa go with the fro and merge, essentially, with his afro, becoming one and the same being.
Matsuda knew how wrong it would be to actually make this wish, of course. No one wanted their body to be taken over by their choice of hairdo, but Matsuda was helpless against his desire nonetheless.
On the day that Aizawa came to work sans afro, there were no words to describe Matsuda's grief. It was borderline mental derailment. Matsuda wanted to go to whatever barber shop butcher had maimed such a perfect hair specimen. He would pick those broken locks up off the ground and probably cry. But there was no one to share in his grief; Matsuda was truly alone, and no one understood why he felt this way.
It was a tragic end to a tragic love story that was never meant to be.
I am so sorry that this is the story I have chosen to present you with after all this time. I truly am. But thank you for reading anyway!
~Ratt Kazamata, 8.23.2016