HAIRCUT

When Izuku sat down, the chair shattered.

"Terribly sorry sir, try this one."

The barber gestured at a sedentary monolith of concrete and steel, conqueror of a hundred ponderous posteriors. It groaned as Izuku sat upon it.

"How would you like it cut?"

"With a scissors. My hair gets stuck in clippers."

The scissors came away with hair-shaped dents. The barber brought out gardening shears. They snapped in half.

"Excuse me for one second."

After an eighteen digit pin, a retinal scan, speech pattern recognition, an x-ray of the QR code on his pelvis, and a two factor authorization text, the bank vault swung open. The barber hefted a chain saw.

"Say hello to my little friend."

"Hi." Izuku waved. "Can I eat it?"

"No."

When the chainsaw hit, the metal spurs shot across the shop like a malfunctioning nail gun. Windows shattered, walls got a swiss cheese makeover, and a jesus statue got some extra nails.

The barber passed the busted chainsaw to Izuku. While he enjoyed his snack, the barber brought out a diamond circular saw. With Izuku's hair placed under it, the blade sank without resistance. The barber lifted the saw and found intact hair. The blade had been worn smooth.

"Let's take this outside."

The barber strapped Izuku to a steel table. "Sorry for the discomfort, this was repurposed from a supervillain's lair."

With the press of a button, a laser melted a line through solid steel and gave Izuku's hair a lime-colored highlight.

Undeterred, the barber put GPS coordinates into their phone. An orbital satellite dropped a razor blade. It bounced off Izuku's hair and sliced through the barbershop's brick wall.

The barber took out their phone. "Yoroi. I have a code twelve."

An elderly hero rammed through the brick wall. Dusting mortar off their shoulders, Yoroi said, "How tough?"

"The orbital didn't even dent it."

"Very good. Stand back."

Yoroi drew his blade an inch. He solemnly intoned, "Oma wae mo, shinderu," then sheathed the sword. As the loud click echoed into silence, the swordsman grunted in surprise. His armor fell apart in a hundred pieces, and his glorious mustache fell in mournful tatters.

"N-nani!"

The barber set Yoroi in the bunker. "There is no choice. I will cut your hair, whatever the cost."

One pentagram drawn in blood, chant over crimson candles, and deal struck with a bored, sleepy demon later, the barber held a damned blade aloft. Its umbral edge drank the light and cleaved reality itself. Blood ran from the barber's eyes as he let out a guttural cry and swung the blade like a scottish warrior of old.

With a thunderous twang, a single hair from Izuku's head split in twain. Izuku examined it, then ate it. The hair instantly grew back.

"Thank you for the haircut, sir! It was delicious."

Once Izuku walked out, chewing on and regrowing his hair, the barber put the cursed blade in his bunker and whistled as he cleaned up for the next customer.

500

Meanwhile, the barber goes on to give the devil a haircut in exchange for his soul and does such a good job that he becomes a repeat customer.