Oboro? You think he can help us now? My shampoo has been completely emptied down the drain. Nothing will make me feel better. This is too far, Sho. Cracks knuckles.

Banana-fies Shigaraki's hair.

Looks to the camera. Holding the product. "PRESENT MIC'S BANANA GEL. IT'S NOT PERMANENT BUT IT MIGHT AS WELL BE. VILLAIN FRIENDLY. CALL NOW TO PREORDER YOURS TODAY."

GET HIM❗️💢

Throws the product right over his shoulder. Glass shatters. Out the window it goes. "I REPEAT. GET OUT OF HERE."

He's got gel ready in the palms of his hands. Looks around.

Who's next.

WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY.

... That's not supposed to happen.

HANDS GRIP THE SINK. STARING DOWN THE DRAIN.

Do not twist the story. AIZAWA, WE GOT A PROBLEM HERE. FOR BOTH MY PRODUCT AND OUR SAFETY. 𝘌𝘙𝘈𝘚𝘌𝘙𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘋

❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢

APPARENTLY HE'S SOARING OUT THE WINDOW NOW WITH AIZAWA. BLINK BLINK.

He's already getting to work at prying that mouth open of his, eyes watching his movements closely above the rims of glasses.

My shampoo...

"Uh huh. I like sweet potato sushi rolls, too. Hang tight. This one's gotta hurt." Aaaaand...time to unhinge that jaw of his and assume he's learned his lesson on this one. Wipes his mouth with a warm washcloth.

Marketing.

TAKES THE BOTTLE FROM HIM.

Pulling out chunks of blonde hair. Horrified. Shaking hands tremble as strands drift from his scalp and onto the floor. "Aizawa..."

Narrows eyes at the advertisement on the television screen. He's got to up his game.