Twenty-five episodes felt simultaneously endless and over in a flash. That’s Season 2 in a nutshell: a long, heavy season that somehow flew by despite its weight. This rewatch reminded me why this show works so well at expanding its world whilst keeping character development at the forefront. Where Season 1 laid the foundation, Season 2 builds entire wings onto the structure, giving us three distinct arcs that each serve different purposes whilst maintaining the emotional throughline that makes this series compelling.
The Sports Festival gave us spectacle and character exploration. The Stain arc introduced genuine ideological conflict. The Final Exams brought everything full circle, with students facing their teachers. It’s ambitious storytelling that mostly succeeds, even if some elements work better than others on repeat viewings.
[Post read time: 26–44 min]
About My Hero Academia Season 2
- Type: TV anime
- Full genre list: Shonen, Action, Superhero, School, Tournament, Coming-of-Age
- Status: Completed
- Season: 2
- Episodes: 25 (plus 1 recap episode)
- Duration: +/- 10 hours
- Age restriction: TV-14
- Key themes: The nature of true heroism versus fame-seeking, breaking generational trauma, teamwork versus individual glory, ideology and conviction, the cost of revenge, growth through adversity, what it means to inspire others
- Trigger warnings: Child abuse, violence, ideological extremism, brief mentions of suicide/death
- Release date: April 2017
- Animation studio: Bones
- Director: Kenji Nagasaki
- Series composition: Yōsuke Kuroda
- Character design: Yoshihiko Umakoshi
- Music composer: Yuki Hayashi
- English dub: Yes (Funimation)
- Source: Manga by Kōhei Horikoshi (volumes 3-8, chapters 22-69)
- Kanji: 僕のヒーローアカデミア
- Alternative title: Boku no Hero Academia
- Average rating across platforms: 8.15/10
- Where to stream: Crunchyroll, Netflix, Prime Video, Hulu, Disney+
- Does the story carry on in the source material? Yes, the manga continues beyond Season 2
- Official website: heroaca.com
- Official hashtags: #MyHeroAcademia #BokuNoHeroAcademia #僕のヒーローアカデミア
Following the attack on U.S.J., Class 1-A gets their chance to prove themselves on the world stage at U.A.’s Sports Festival, where pro heroes scout potential sidekicks and the entire nation watches. As students compete for recognition, deeper character conflicts surface, particularly around Shoto Todoroki’s complicated relationship with his father and his own identity. The Festival’s aftermath leads to internships where students experience real hero work, but the appearance of the Hero Killer Stain forces several students into life-threatening combat that challenges their understanding of what heroism truly means. The season concludes with final exams that pit students against their own teachers in battles that test everything they’ve learned.
My Thoughts: Expansion, ideology, and the cost of conviction
The Sports Festival: spectacle with substance
The U.A. Sports Festival is exactly what a tournament arc should be: entertaining without overstaying its welcome, character-driven without sacrificing action, and willing to let its protagonist lose when the story demands it. Watching these kids compete for their future, whilst the entire hero world evaluates them, creates stakes that feel real and immediate.
What makes this arc work is how it uses competition to reveal character rather than just showcase power. Ochaco’s fight against Bakugo isn’t just about quirks clashing; it’s about determination in the face of overwhelming disadvantage, about refusing help because you need to prove something to yourself. Her line “Giving up isn’t an option for me!” carries weight because we understand what’s driving her. She loses, but the loss doesn’t diminish her. If anything, it strengthens our understanding of who she is.
Then there’s Shinso, the mind control kid who ended up in general education despite having a quirk that would be devastatingly effective for hero work. His frustration feels earned. “I was forced to choose a different track. Such is life,” he says with resigned bitterness. The system failed him not because he lacks potential, but because entrance exams prioritise physical quirks. It’s a small moment that speaks to larger problems within Hero society.
But the marquee match is Todoroki versus Midoriya, and it’s here that Season 2 truly announces itself. This isn’t just about who wins a tournament match; it’s about Todoroki confronting decades of abuse, about Midoriya helping someone else before himself, about choosing your own path rather than living out someone else’s trauma. The animation during this fight is spectacular. The emotional beats hit like freight trains.
Todoroki’s backstory with Endeavour is hard to watch. Seeing a child trained like a weapon, watching his mother break under the pressure until she snaps and permanently scars him, understanding that his ice-only stance is rebellion against his father’s designs, it’s heavy material handled with care. His arc doesn’t conclude here, but it begins, and that’s exactly right. “My path isn’t as clear as I thought it was,” he admits later, and that uncertainty feels more honest than any neat resolution would.
But before he reaches that point of self-reflection, we see how that trauma manifests as misdirected anger. His match against Sero (the tape quirk user) is uncomfortable to watch. Todoroki is so consumed by rage at his father, so determined to prove he doesn’t need the fire side, that he takes it out on a classmate who did nothing to deserve it. The massive ice wall he creates is overkill, trapping Sero in a glacier that goes far beyond what’s necessary to win. It’s not strategy; it’s fury finding an outlet. Watching someone hurt and confused lash out at the nearest available target is painful because it’s so human, so understandable, and so clearly wrong. Todoroki knows it too, you can see it in his face afterwards. That moment of excessive force born from internal turmoil sets up why his conversation with Midoriya matters so much: he needs to stop fighting ghosts and start fighting for himself.
I enjoyed Bakugo’s frustration throughout the festival. His absolute refusal to accept anything less than total victory, his fury when Todoroki doesn’t use his fire against him, it speaks to his character perfectly. That moment where he has to be restrained on the winner’s podium because he won’t accept a victory he didn’t earn on his terms is simultaneously funny and revealing. He’s not just arrogant; he has standards, even if they’re completely unreasonable.
Special mention to the blonde kid from Class 1-B (Neito Monoma) whose trash talk and class rivalry antics added levity. Every ensemble needs that character who exists purely to stir the pot.
The internships: seeing hero work from different angles
The internship week gives the series room to explore how varied hero work actually is. Not everyone got what they wanted or expected, and that’s the point. Some students get action, others get publicity management, some get legitimate mentorship, whilst others end up doing grunt work. It’s a more nuanced look at what being a pro hero actually entails.
Gran Torino’s introduction was lacklustre for me personally. I appreciate what he did for Izuku, teaching him to think of One For All as a constant boost rather than isolated bursts, but the comedy around his “senile old man” act wore thin quickly. The actual training philosophy, which Izuku needed to integrate his power rather than treat it as separate from himself, is sound. The execution just didn’t grab me the way other mentor relationships have.
Froppy getting her own episode during internships stood out, though I’m still not entirely sure why she warranted a full episode for her adventure, whilst others got brief montages. Not complaining, exactly – more screentime for Tsuyu is never unwelcome – but the narrative focus felt slightly unbalanced.
What worked beautifully was seeing characters like Momo struggle with self-doubt, or watching how different pro heroes operate. Some are media-focused, others work in the shadows. Some prioritise flashy saves, while others focus on community building. It paints hero society as complex and multi-faceted rather than monolithic.
The continuation of Todoroki’s complicated relationship with Endeavor during internships added layers. Watching him work with his father whilst maintaining emotional distance, seeing how their dynamic remains strained and uncomfortable – these moments matter. “Only I can decide my future,” Todoroki declares, and it’s a statement of autonomy that feels earned in the face of his father’s expectations.
Stain: conviction as both strength and poison
Then Stain arrives, and everything shifts.
The Hero Killer’s ideology is simultaneously compelling and completely warped, which makes him fascinating. His core argument, that many heroes are in it for fame and money rather than genuine altruism, that the profession has been corrupted by capitalism and celebrity culture, isn’t wrong. The problem is his solution: murder everyone who doesn’t meet his impossible standards until only “true heroes” remain.
“What meaning is there to killing if you don’t have real convictions?” he asks Shigaraki with genuine disdain. Stain is a true believer, and true believers are terrifying precisely because they cannot be reasoned with. His philosophy makes sense within his framework, even as his methods are indefensible.
The fight in Hosu City is My Hero Academia Season 2’s emotional peak. Watching Ida wrestle with his desire for revenge after Stain paralysed his brother, seeing him nearly die because vengeance clouded his judgement, then having Izuku and Todoroki arrive to pull him back from that edge, it’s powerful character work wrapped in genuinely tense action.
Stain’s judgment of Ida is harsh and unforgiving: Ida deserves to die because, rather than focusing on saving the pro hero, he prioritised killing Stain and getting revenge. In Stain’s warped moral framework, that makes Ida a false hero worthy of culling. It’s only through Izuku and Todoroki’s intervention that Ida survives his vengeance-driven mistake.
The animation during this extended fight sequence is outstanding. The choreography is more complex than previous battles, with characters using their quirks tactically rather than just throwing power around. You feel the desperation, the fatigue, the stakes. And when pro heroes finally arrive and Stain is captured, his final speech about All Might being the only one worthy of killing him cements his role as something more than just another villain.
His impact reverberates through everything that follows. The way his ideology inspires others, even criminals, speaks to how powerful conviction can be, regardless of morality. Toga and Dabi, both drawn to the League of Villains specifically because of Stain’s message, it sets up the tonal shift heading into Season 3.
On rewatches, the Stain arc has diminished impact for me. Knowing how it resolves, understanding his ultimate fate, means the tension doesn’t land the same way. First watch, it was riveting. Third watch, it’s still good but lacks that initial punch. That’s not a criticism of the arc itself, just the reality of consuming media repeatedly.
Final exams: students versus teachers
The final exam arc shifts focus again, putting students in teams of two against individual teachers. The pairings are thoughtful: putting students together who need to learn specific lessons, creating dynamics that force growth.
Watching the various matches play out showcases how far Class 1-A has come, whilst highlighting how much further they need to go. Some students pass easily. Others struggle. Some succeed through clever strategy, others through raw determination. The variety keeps things engaging even when we know the broad strokes of where this is heading.
The offhanded comment from Recovery Girl about Principal Nezu being experimented on and now “happily taking revenge” on students deserves more exploration. That’s a dark implication delivered as a throwaway line, and I’m fascinated by what story lurks beneath that statement. The idea that the principal, an intelligent animal who was experimented on by humans, now designs deliberately challenging scenarios for students as a form of displaced mild revenge is somewhat unsettling. I want that story. I want to understand that trauma and how it shaped him, and how he came to be the principal of the school.
Bakugo and Izuku being forced to work together against All Might is the emotional anchor of this arc. Their relationship remains tense, the history of Bakugo’s bullying unresolved, the dynamic shifting now that Izuku has power. “Whatever your family problems are, whatever you’re feeling, none of that crap matters. Just make sure you don’t hold back,” Bakugo tells Todoroki earlier, and it’s the closest he gets to emotional intelligence all season.
Their fight against All Might should have been more than it was. The forced teamwork angle is solid, watching them slowly figure out how to coordinate makes sense, but I expected something more impactful from their combined effort against the Symbol of Peace. It’s good, don’t misunderstand, but it could have been transcendent.
The growth is visible in small moments, like when Bakugo screams, “It can’t end this way! Now get up!” at Todoroki during the Sports Festival, showing he has standards even for his opponents. But against All Might, Bakugo would rather lose than team up with Izuku; his pride won’t allow cooperation with someone he spent years looking down on. It’s only through Izuku’s refusal to let him give up and forcing the issue that Bakugo somewhat comes around. He’s learning, glacially slowly, that strength isn’t purely individual, but he fights that lesson every step of the way.
Animation and visual storytelling
Bones continues to deliver exceptional work. The Sports Festival looks appropriately spectacular; this is the event that the entire country watches, and the animation budget reflects that importance. Character expressions remain detailed even in crowd shots. Action sequences are fluid and impactful.
The colour palette shifts appropriately for each arc. The Sports Festival is bright and energetic. The Stain encounter is darker, more visceral. The final exams feel tense and focused. These aren’t accidents; they’re deliberate choices that support the narrative mood.
Particular praise goes to how the series animates damage. When characters get hurt, you see it. When they’re exhausted, their movements reflect that fatigue. The attention to how bodies react to stress adds weight to every confrontation.
Sound design and musical excellence
Yuki Hayashi outdoes himself in Season 2. “You Say Run” gets deployed at precisely the right moments, transforming scenes into iconic sequences. But the entire score deserves recognition. The Sports Festival has its own energetic theme. Stain’s appearances come with unsettling musical cues. The emotional beats get supported without being overwhelmed by saccharine strings.
Both opening themes serve their respective halves well. “Peace Sign” captures the energetic optimism of the Sports Festival, whilst “Sora ni Utaeba” introduces a more contemplative tone for the darker material ahead.
The English dub cast continues their excellent work. I watch dubbed, and every line lands with the weight it needs. Delivery matters enormously in making dialogue memorable, and this cast understands their characters. When Aizawa says, “My well-being is irrelevant. What’s more important is that your fight isn’t over yet”, after nearly dying in Season 1, you hear his absolute commitment to his students. When All Might tells Midoriya, “There will always be people beyond our reach that we can’t protect. But that’s all the more reason to stand tall and smile,” you understand why he’s the Symbol of Peace despite his limitations.
The quotes I pulled during this watch (which you can see in 41 Quotes That Forge My Hero Academia Season 2’s Spirit) really showcase the quality of both the writing and the voice work. Lines like Stain’s “What meaning is there to killing if you don’t have real convictions?” or Shigaraki’s breakdown at the mall, where he finally understands why All Might makes him so angry, these moments work because they’re delivered with conviction.
Character development across the ensemble
One of Season 2’s greatest strengths is how it expands beyond Izuku. Season 1 had to establish the world and the protagonist. Season 2 has room to breathe, allowing supporting characters to become fully realised people with their own arcs.
Todoroki gets the most substantial development, grappling with his abusive childhood, his complicated feelings about his power, and his relationship with both parents. “I started to doubt myself,” he admits after his fight with Izuku, and that vulnerability marks real progress.
Ida’s arc about revenge and heroism gives him depth beyond “responsible class representative.” Watching him nearly die because he prioritised personal vengeance over heroic duty, then having to sit with that failure, creates genuine character growth.
Ochaco confronts her own limitations and comes out stronger. Momo struggles with self-worth despite her obvious talent. Bakugo remains aggressively driven but shows cracks in his absolute certainty. Even minor characters get moments that establish personality and motivation.
This season reminded me that My Hero Academia is an ensemble show. Yes, Izuku is the protagonist, but he’s surrounded by people with their own dreams, struggles, and arcs. The series improves when it remembers that.
The villains evolve
That final mall scene where Shigaraki confronts Izuku is Season 2’s masterstroke. Watching Tomura figure out in real-time why he hates All Might so much, understanding that his goal is to destroy the peace that allows people to smile thoughtlessly, reframes him from “generic video game villain” to “ideological threat.”
“When it comes down to it, I hate basically everything,” he admits with casual honesty. But then he focuses that hatred: “It’s him. The problem is All Might. Yeah, yeah, that’s it. That’s the most rational explanation. He’s why these morons are able to smile thoughtlessly.”
The introduction of Toga and Dabi, both drawn to the League because of Stain’s ideology, promises complications ahead. These aren’t random criminals; they’re people with convictions, which makes them far more dangerous.
Where it doesn’t quite land
Season 2 is ambitious, and ambition sometimes means things don’t work perfectly. The tonal shifts between arcs can feel abrupt. Moving from the Sports Festival spectacle to Stain’s brutal ideology to school exams requires constant adjustment.
Some characters get lost in the shuffle. With such a large cast, not everyone can receive equal focus, but it’s noticeable when certain students basically disappear for episodes at a time.
The Bakugo-Izuku dynamic remains frustrating. Yes, it’s being addressed slowly, but the series still treats Bakugo’s past bullying as mostly resolved when it really isn’t. His growth is real, but the baseline was so low that “slightly less terrible” still isn’t great.
Gran Torino didn’t work for me personally, though his narrative function is sound. The comedy undercut what should have been impactful mentorship moments.
Thematic depth
Season 2 asks harder questions than Season 1. What makes someone a “true hero”? Is fame incompatible with genuine altruism? Can you be a hero whilst also being a damaged person working through trauma? How do you respond to ideological extremism that contains kernels of truth?
There are no easy answers, which is precisely the point. Stain’s critique of hero society isn’t entirely wrong, even though his methods are indefensible. All Might acknowledges that he can’t save everyone, that sometimes all a hero can do is smile and hope that the symbol persists even when the person can’t. Todoroki learns that breaking cycles of abuse means choosing your own path rather than simply inverting your abuser’s goals.
These are mature themes handled with surprising nuance for a shonen series. The show trusts its audience to sit with complexity rather than demanding simple answers.
Rewatch observations
Multiple viewings reveal how carefully Season 2 is constructed. Character moments that seemed minor on first watch become significant when you know where they’re heading. Visual parallels between scenes gain meaning. Dialogue carries additional weight when context expands.
The season feels long because it covers substantial ground, but it also flies by because the pacing rarely drags. Each arc serves its purpose, develops characters, and moves the overall narrative forward.
What loses impact on rewatch is primarily the Stain arc. Knowing the resolution dampens the tension. First time through, every moment felt dangerous and unpredictable. Third time through, it’s still well-executed but lacks that edge-of-seat quality.
Everything else maintains or improves with additional viewings. Character moments land harder when you understand their full context. Thematic threads become more apparent. The craftsmanship of the storytelling reveals itself.
Favourite Characters
If Aizawa is my husband (and he is), then Todoroki and Ida are the highlights of Season 2 for me. Both undergo substantial character development that transforms them from archetypes into fully realised people.
Todoroki’s arc about confronting generational trauma, choosing his own identity, and learning that rejecting his father’s path doesn’t mean denying half of himself is beautifully handled. His journey isn’t complete by season’s end, which feels right. This kind of growth takes time. Watching him begin to process everything, to start healing, to make connections with people who see him rather than his father’s legacy, that’s compelling character work.
Ida’s arc is shorter but equally impactful. After his brother’s injury, his reassurance to his friends, “I’m sorry if I made you worry. Everything will be fine”, is delivered with such calm certainty that it masks the vengeance already brewing underneath. That’s what makes his near-death experience so devastating: we didn’t believe him when he said everything would be fine, and then we watched him nearly throw his life away for revenge. His realisation that he’d abandoned heroic principles for personal satisfaction, the way he has to sit with that failure after being saved by the very people he’d lied to, it’s a powerful examination of what happens when even well-intentioned people lose sight of what matters. The weight of that earlier reassurance becomes clear in retrospect: he was lying to them and to himself.
Would I Recommend It?
Yes, if:
- You enjoyed Season 1 and want to see the world expand
- Tournament arcs done well appeal to you (the Sports Festival is genuinely excellent)
- Character development matters as much as action
- You appreciate villains with coherent ideologies rather than generic evil
- Stories about overcoming trauma and choosing your own path resonate
- You want to see ensemble cast members get substantial focus
- Ideological complexity in your shonen appeals to you
- You can handle depictions of child abuse (Todoroki’s backstory)
- Longer seasons don’t intimidate you (25 episodes is substantial)
- You enjoy watching characters fail and grow from failure
No, if:
- You need every episode to advance the main plot (some are more character-focused)
- Tournament arcs bore you regardless of execution
- The Bakugo-Izuku dynamic frustrates you (it remains problematic)
- You want the protagonist to be the clear focus (Izuku shares the spotlight significantly)
- Ideological villains feel preachy to you
- You prefer darker, more cynical takes on superhero media
- Watching depictions of child abuse is too difficult
- You need complete character arcs rather than ongoing development
- Comedy in serious moments breaks immersion for you
- You’re looking for a quick watch (this season requires time investment)
Final Thoughts
My Hero Academia Season 2 is where it truly becomes an ensemble story. Yes, Izuku remains our protagonist, but he’s surrounded by fully realised characters with their own struggles, dreams, and arcs. The season understands that supporting cast members aren’t just obstacles or cheerleaders; they’re people whose stories matter just as much as the main character’s.
The Sports Festival gives us spectacle with substance. The Stain arc introduces genuine ideological conflict that complicates the black-and-white morality of Season 1. The Final Exams bring everything full circle whilst setting up future complications. It’s ambitious storytelling that mostly succeeds, creating a season that feels substantial without becoming bloated.
What strikes me most on this rewatch is how much care went into character work. Todoroki’s journey from broken weapon to person choosing his own path. Ida’s near-fatal lesson about the difference between heroism and vengeance. Ochaco refusing help because she needs to prove something to herself. Bakugo slowly, grudgingly learning that strength isn’t purely individual. These arcs matter, and the series gives them room to breathe.
The season isn’t perfect. Some tonal shifts feel abrupt. Not every character gets equal development. Certain relationships remain frustratingly unresolved. But the ambition, the willingness to ask difficult questions, the trust in audience intelligence – these elevate Season 2 beyond typical shonen fare.
Twenty-five episodes that feel both long and quick, heavy but somehow light. That paradox defines Season 2: substantial enough to feel weighty, entertaining enough to feel effortless. It’s a season that rewards investment, that builds on its foundation, that expands what this series can be.
If Season 1 asked “Can Izuku become a hero?”, Season 2 asks “What does it mean to be a hero?” The answers are more complicated, more nuanced, and more interesting than simple platitudes about courage and determination. Heroism costs something. It requires sacrifice. It demands that you act even when you’re afraid, even when you’re hurt, even when nobody’s watching.
And sometimes, like Todoroki choosing to use his fire not for his father but for himself, heroism means claiming your own identity despite everyone else’s expectations. That’s the lesson Season 2 offers, wrapped in spectacular animation, carried by voice actors who understand their characters, supported by a score that elevates every moment.
Dreams can become reality, but the work required is harder and more complicated than Season 1 suggested. Season 2 doesn’t shy away from that complexity, and the series is better for it.
My Rating: 8.5/10
An ambitious expansion that deepens character work, introduces ideological complexity, and demonstrates that My Hero Academia is an ensemble story with substantial thematic depth. Minor stumbles don’t diminish a season that understands spectacle and substance aren’t mutually exclusive.
Date re-watched: 21 October 2025
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