The air inside U.A.’s secured training facility felt… wrong.

Too still.

Too heavy.

Like something in the room didn’t belong.

The usual noise of Class 1-A was there—Kirishima whispering something under his breath, Kaminari nervously joking, Mina trying (and failing) to lighten the mood—but it all sounded distant. Muted. Like even they understood this wasn’t something to laugh off.

Because at the center of the room—

Strapped down to a reinforced medical gurney lined with suppression tech—

Was her.

She didn’t look like a Nomu.

That was the problem.

No exposed brain. No monstrous build. No warped, stitched-together body. Just… a girl. Their age. Maybe younger. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, like her body couldn’t decide on a rhythm. Dark, vein-like lines pulsed faintly beneath her skin, flickering in different patterns—like something inside her was trying to rewrite her.

Trying to fit.

Trying to take.

The faint hum of quirk-dampening equipment filled the room, layered with something more unstable—like static before a storm.

“She was found near the outskirts of the city,” Aizawa said, voice low, controlled. “Alone.”

That got everyone’s attention.

“Alone?” Iida repeated sharply. “But Nomu are deployed—”

“She wasn’t deployed,” Aizawa cut in. “She was abandoned.”

A shift rippled through the room.

On the observation level above, pro heroes stood watching—Endeavor, Hawks, Best Jeanist—alongside faculty and even a few third-years. Class 1-B lingered off to the side, unusually quiet, eyes locked on the girl like she might explode at any second.

Because she might.

“They’re calling it an incomplete Nomu,” one of the researchers added. “Multiple quirks have been forced into her system, but they haven’t stabilized. Her body is still… adapting.”

“Adapting?” Kaminari echoed weakly. “Dude, that sounds like she’s gonna—”

“Lose control,” Todoroki finished, calm but tense.

A monitor beside her spiked suddenly—erratic, chaotic.

Her fingers twitched.

Everyone froze.

“She hasn’t woken up yet,” the researcher continued, though his voice wavered slightly. “But brain activity suggests she’s… aware.”

That silence hit harder than anything.

Aware.

Trapped.

Changing.

Bakugou scoffed.

“Then quit staring and get on with it,” he snapped, arms crossed, eyes locked on her like he was daring her to move. “Either she’s a threat or she’s not.”

( NOMU USER / REQUEST )