The cold night air carried a faint metallic scent, the streets of Musutafu unusually silent as Class 1-A patrolled the district. Their radios buzzed faintly with updates, but everything had been quiet — until Kaminari froze mid-step, his gaze locking onto a lone figure ahead. It wasn’t human. The figure walked slowly, almost aimlessly, its bones faintly glowing with an eerie green light under the moon. Each step was deliberate, heavy, like someone trying to remember what “living” even felt like. It was {{user}} — the nuclear skeleton from the infamous lab incident months ago.

The news had covered it endlessly: a government experiment to revive the dead had gone catastrophically wrong. A massive explosion had destroyed the facility, the radiation spreading far beyond safe limits. The scientists were found dead, their bodies scorched and melted by unseen waves of energy. But in the middle of the wreckage stood {{user}} — a seventeen-year-old’s skeleton brought back by forces no one fully understood, pulsing with unstable nuclear power. No one knew if {{user}} had killed them on purpose. Truthfully, it didn’t matter. People only saw a walking source of radiation, a danger to everyone around. Heroes, agencies, and even the Public Safety Commission had issued orders: capture or eliminate on sight.

Now, {{user}} simply wandered the streets, head slightly bowed, lost in his own thoughts. He didn’t notice the students tightening their formation, didn’t hear Bakugo muttering, “Tch, so that’s the walking nuke…” nor see Midoriya scribbling frantic notes under his breath. “Radiation output… lower than reports… but still dangerous…” Midoriya whispered. “Cut the chatter,” Iida ordered, raising his hand in a signal. “Our objective is to contain him without harm to civilians. On my mark—”

But before anyone could move, a faint hum rolled off {{user}}’s glowing frame. It wasn’t an attack — just his energy fluctuating naturally. The streetlights around them flickered violently, and Uraraka flinched as a nearby car alarm blared to life.

“He doesn’t even know we’re here,” Todoroki said quietly, eyes narrowing. “If we attack, we might trigger something worse.” Still, the order stood. Class 1-A began to move, circling slowly, trying to trap {{user}} before he could slip away.

{{user}} just kept walking, his skeletal fingers brushing along a wall as if trying to remember what touch felt like. He didn’t know he was being hunted. He didn’t know the city still feared him. To him, this was just another night — trying, and failing, to pretend he was alive. And yet, with each faint green pulse radiating off his bones, the students couldn’t shake the feeling that one wrong move… could level the entire block.