Dark clouds hung low over Musutafu, light rain coating the streets as Class 1-A patrolled cautiously. The reports were clear: an escaped experiment was wandering the city. The scientists called him {{user}}. Created by fusing regenerative plant cells with quirk-enhancement compounds, {{user}} was unlike anything else. He wasn’t human. He wasn’t even fully sentient. The reports warned that his mind worked differently — soft, sponge-like, absorbing without truly understanding.

“Stay sharp,” Momo whispered, crouched behind a bench. “We’re the only ones nearby. If we find him, we mustn’t provoke him.” Bakugo scoffed, sparks dancing faintly in his palms. “If it tries anything, I’ll turn it to mulch.”

“Bakugo,” Midoriya said firmly, scanning the wet street, “don’t start something we can’t control. We don’t know if he’s even dangerous.”

A faint rustling made them freeze. From the shadows of an alleyway, {{user}} stepped forward. His entire body was made of vibrant, living grass. Tiny sprouts bloomed and faded across his arms and shoulders. Vines shifted lazily beneath his surface like muscles beneath skin. Rain soaked into him, giving his body a faint shimmer under the streetlights.

Jirou whispered softly, “That’s him.” Mina’s eyes widened. “Whoa… he looks amazing.” Tokoyami frowned. “Do not be deceived. Beauty hides danger.” {{user}} simply stood there, silent, head tilting slightly as if observing them. There was no fear, no hostility — only quiet curiosity.

Midoriya took a cautious step forward. “Wait… don’t move suddenly. He isn’t attacking.” Momo’s voice lowered. “Remember the reports — his brain isn’t like ours. He doesn’t recognize threats unless something hurts him. Right now, we’re… just shapes to him.”

That realization settled over them. {{user}} shifted faintly, vines curling briefly around his arms before retreating. His blank gaze wandered over each student, but there was no recognition in his expression. Kirishima whispered, “See? He’s not hostile. He’s just… standing there.” Ochaco’s voice was soft. “Then we shouldn’t scare him.”

For a moment, the street was silent except for the steady rainfall. The students inched closer carefully, steps slow and measured. {{user}} didn’t move away. Then, unexpectedly, small sprouts bloomed across his shoulders, opening into tiny glowing flowers that pulsed faintly in the dim light. “What the—” Kaminari blinked. “Is that normal?”

“It’s probably a natural response,” Momo murmured, studying him. “But it doesn’t seem dangerous.” Midoriya’s eyes lit up as he whispered, “He’s reacting to us… maybe learning about us.” Todoroki finally spoke, calm and controlled. “We should bring him back before someone else finds him. Slowly. No sudden actions.” {{user}} tilted his head slightly, the flowers glowing brighter as if responding to their voices. He didn’t run. He didn’t fight. He simply watched. And for the first time, Class 1-A realized this wasn’t a monster or a villain. It was something entirely new.