His imaginary friend, a MHA story

•Chapter 3: The red thread of fate•

Well. It wasn't completely Deku. Not thr scrawny, skinny, ugly freckled kid I knew back then, whose hair could match a broccoli's top, curly and untouchable as it was. Not with that constantly scared aura, expecting something bad to happen at every corner he turned, and whose tear ducts were always ready to cry some more. Not that Deku.

This Deku was taller, looked stronger, and had a safe and warm aura. His four-dot freckles were clearly still visible, but that didn't become the most important feature of his anymore. His entire physique seemed to have levelled up, he seemed more... well, the only word was fit. Not nearly as buff as All Might, though, but he certainly didn't look scrawny anymore. And there was something else. He smiled more, a confident, don't worry, I'll save you, smile. Looking down on me, like always, I don't fucking need saving. His eyes were still big and expressive as always, which immediately ticked me off. And his hair stayed the same, though it seemed to have shrunk a tiny bit.

This was Deku?

No way.

Sure, he looks like Deku, and obviously no wonder Daikon reminded me so much him. But he got an upgrade, because I didn't remember Deku being this surprisingly big guy. Since when did he get taller than me, and I'm taller than more than half our school.

I was still shocked as he scolded Daikon ("Welcome fucking home!" was the first thing he heard from him), and angry. I didn't want to deal with him any more. I thought I was done with him. That my damned explosions would blast him out of my life. Because that was my goal every time I used it on him, right? Just a pebble in my path, that I nonchalantly kicked away.

I thought.

When he laughed after scolding Daikon, his eyes finally met his wife, kissed her hello, and slowly, slowly turned his sight... on me.

Just like he always did. He pierced my soul with those emerald eyes, looked at me, and yet with a blank look plastered on his face. No, that's not it... angry?Wait, he's not supposed to see me, how is he-

And not a second later, he turned his head back to his happy family, ruffling Daikon's hair. Did I imagine it? The chill down my spine I felt, like a white spider tickling down my back? His look was different. He didn't look at me like round-face did, not like he did back then, when he would shakingly turn his head up, the face etched with horror.

In fact, I've never seen him like that. But maybe I imagined it, because he took off his boots and cheerfully asked, "Smells good, Ochaco- meatballs with red sauce again?" Stupid Deku. Why was he here? Why? Why would he forever hunt my reality, running after me? I just wanted to kick him out of my way, where he could never find me, where he would live his life in the shadows, miserable, and I would rise to the top, become the number one hero. And despite all that, he always somehow ended up there, in my path. Oh, but I had to die, didn't I, and get pulled in this shit-ass situation, that I never asked for. He ought to get far, far away, just kick him out of my life, out of my road!

I want to cut the red thread between us.

The thread of fate, the thread that was rumored to be connected to two people destined to meet each other.

Snip.

...when Deku sat down with his family and Daikon on the big table around the kitchen of the house, he leaned towards Daikon to speak to him. "So, champ, how was your day at school?"

Daikon's optimism flickered a little. "It was okay," he muttered. "I... We learned about math things today."

"Really? How did it go?" Deku asked.

"Um... I didn't do really well. I had to stay behind class." He looked down, concentrating on his plate.

"That's fine, Daiki, you just have to work a bit harder." He chuckled and started eating.