My Hero Academia Symbol of Hope (DC x MHA)

Time to Rest

Kinoko pouted slightly as Fumikage declined the cough drop.
"Suit yourself," she said, popping one in her own mouth with a click. "But don't come crying to me when your vocal cords give out."

Fumikage gave a dignified nod, his voice hoarse.
"Dark Shadow and I are fine. It was merely... strenuous."

Kinoko raised an eyebrow. "Sure didn't sound like 'fine' when you were squawking like a dying raven five minutes ago."

He turned away, silently offended. Dark Shadow, still sluggish from overuse, mumbled, "I think I need a nap..."

Meanwhile, Itsuka walked alongside the two support robots carrying Momo on a med-chair, her face pale but peaceful in unconsciousness. Momo's elegant features were marred by bruises, a stark contrast to her usually composed self. Itsuka glanced at her with genuine worry.

"She pushed herself harder than anyone else," Itsuka said quietly, addressing no one in particular. "I hope it was worth it."

As they approached the cage where the other students rested, the remnants of battle were still everywhere—uprooted flooring, torn walls, singe marks, and a faint lingering of Kinoko's mushrooms clinging stubbornly to the metal bars and ceiling tiles. Hitoshi Shinsou stood silently in the observation area, eyes scanning the aftermath.

"Man..." he muttered under his breath. "It's like a war zone."

Aizawa, arms crossed and expression unreadable, replied coolly. "This is the reality of the Hero Course. Real combat isn't clean."

Then, after a pause, his eyes narrowed slightly. "Though this one did escalate more than expected."

Shinsou's gaze flicked back to the destroyed battlefield. "So this is what I'm signing up for, huh..."

"You'll need to be ready for worse," Aizawa said. "But don't let that stop you."

In the announcer's booth, Vlad King leaned over the mic, sweat beading at his temple.
"Uh, can I ask that we please keep property damage to a minimum in the next round? That means you, Manga—Itsuka too."

"Sorry!!" came the unified response from the booth speakers—Itsuka with a sheepish smile and Manga Kamaboko dramatically bowing with huge kanji symbols exploding out from his body: 「深く反省！」(Deep Regret!)

Aizawa sighed, deadpan. "Let's take a break. Kinoko's mushrooms aren't going anywhere for at least two hours. We'll need to clear the field and regroup."

Vlad nodded in agreement. "Round 3 will begin after cleanup and recovery. Make sure your teams are ready."

As the students dispersed for recovery and repairs, a sense of tension lingered in the air. The bar had been raised—brutally high. And for the remaining teams, the pressure to live up to that intensity was palpable.

Neito Monoma, smug as ever and practically sparkling with self-satisfaction, strolled up to Izuku's group, hands clasped behind his back like some sort of victorious nobleman.

"Well, well, well," he began, voice dripping with theatrical flair. "I suppose this outcome was inevitable. Another flawless triumph for Class 1-B! Perhaps now, Class 1-A will recognize their inflated egos and finally—finally—acknowledge our superior coordination and tactics!"

Izuku, ever polite, opened his mouth to respond—only for Monoma to keep going.

"I mean really, with how often you all attract villains and property damage, it's a miracle the school hasn't been shut down entirely. But worry not! With the true heroes of 1-B showing the way, U.A.'s reputation just might survive!"