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“Now It’s Your Turn.”

Three words that fundamentally altered the course of this series. I was surprised by how early All Might’s retirement happened, delivered with such finality that the entire landscape shifts beneath our feet. On this rewatch, knowing what comes after, those words hit even harder. This is the season where everything changes, where the training wheels come off, where the series commits fully to the weight of its premise.

Twenty-five episodes that somehow manage to pack in kid shenanigans at a training camp, genuine terror as villains attack, a rescue mission that redefines what heroism costs, the retirement of the Symbol of Peace, and students grappling with what comes next. It’s exhausting and exhilarating in equal measure.

[Post read time: 26–44 min]

About My Hero Academia Season 3

• Type: TV anime
• Full genre list: Shonen, Action, Superhero, School, Coming-of-Age, Survival
• Status: Completed
• Season: 3
• Episodes: 25 (Episode 39 is a recap episode)
• Duration: +/- 10 hours
• Age restriction: TV-14
• Key themes: The cost of heroism, passing the torch to the next generation, what happens when symbols fall, learning when to break rules, the importance of bonds and networking, accepting responsibility, identity and belonging, choosing your own path
• Trigger warnings: Violence, kidnapping, child endangerment, identity crisis, graphic injury, references to death
• Release date: April 2018
• 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 8-14, chapters 70-124)
• Kanji: 僕のヒーローアカデミア
• Alternative title: Boku no Hero Academia
• Average rating across platforms: 8.3/10 (based on MyAnimeList, Anime-Planet, Kitsu, and LiveChart)
• Where to stream: Crunchyroll, Netflix, Prime Video, Hulu, Disney+
• Does the story carry on in the source material? Yes, the manga continues beyond Season 3
• Official website: heroaca.com
• Official hashtags: #MyHeroAcademia #BokuNoHeroAcademia #僕のヒーローアカデミア

Summer arrives, and Class 1-A heads to a training camp in the woods where pro heroes push their quirks to new limits. What begins as intense but routine training becomes a fight for survival when the League of Villains launches a coordinated attack, kidnapping Bakugo and leaving students traumatised. As pro heroes mount a rescue operation against the villain’s hideout, students must decide whether following their hearts means breaking the rules. The confrontation leads to the most significant battle in Hero Society: All Might versus All For One, a fight that will determine the future of heroism itself. In the aftermath, students face provisional licensing exams whilst grappling with a world that’s lost its Symbol of Peace.

My Thoughts: Transitions, consequences, and the weight of legacies

The training camp: fun interrupted by horror

Episode 1 sets the tone perfectly, the swimming pool episode where kids are just being kids. Watching them play and compete and be teenagers reminds you how young they actually are. It’s light and fun, the kind of content I wish we got more of. These moments of normalcy make what comes next hit harder.

The training camp starts with legitimate challenge. Watching the Wild, Wild Pussycats push students past their limits, seeing quirks evolve through repetition and pressure, understanding that this is what pro-level training actually looks like. It’s compelling stuff. The teamwork is amazing, the drama intense, and there’s this perfect mix of kid shenanigans and serious development.

Then the League of Villains attacks, and everything goes to hell.

The shift from training montage to survival horror is brutal. Students scattered across a forest, pro heroes struggling to protect everyone at once, villains with specific targets and genuine killing intent. This isn’t the U.S.J. attack where teachers could hold the line. This is coordinated chaos designed to overwhelm any response.

Moonfish freaked me out. That villain is genuinely unsettling – the tooth manipulation quirk is horrifying in its application, and the voice work in the dub amplifies the wrongness. These aren’t incompetent thugs. These are dangerous people with skills and strategy.

Watching Izuku face Muscular to protect Kota showcases everything the series does well. The animation is visceral. Every punch lands with weight. Izuku’s narration about not having time to think, just having to act with the power he has, “I don’t have time to think! I just have to do it, right now, with the power I have!“, encapsulates heroism stripped to its core. And that final clash, the 1,000,000% Delaware Detroit Smash, is absurd and spectacular and emotionally earned because we watched Kota’s journey from hating heroes to seeing Izuku sacrifice everything to save him.

The aftermath of Kota getting Deku in the balls earlier in the arc, then later writing an apology letter, is such a perfect character moment. Kids process trauma in stages, and that letter represents understanding he couldn’t articulate before.

But the real gut-punch is Tokoyami. Watching him lose control of Dark Shadow, seeing this normally composed student become the thing he fears most, witnessing his guilt and horror at nearly killing his classmates – it hurt. Tokoyami’s struggle with his quirk’s dark side isn’t played for spectacle. It’s treated as the traumatic experience it is, and his resulting guilt feels heavy and real.

Then Bakugo gets taken, and suddenly the villain’s objective becomes clear. They didn’t come just to hurt U.A. – they came to break them.

Hideout Raid: rules, rescue, and reckoning

The immediate aftermath of the training camp is chaos. Students are traumatised. Pro heroes failed to protect them. Parents are furious. The media is circling. And a subset of Class 1-A wants to rescue Bakugo themselves.

Tsuyu’s intervention is crucial. “It doesn’t matter how noble your intentions. If you go out there trying to find the bad guys, knowing you’re breaking the rules, then you’re acting like villains, not heroes.” She’s right, and it cuts deep because everyone knows she’s right, but emotional logic doesn’t care about technical correctness.

The solution, going to where Bakugo is but not engaging in combat, being present so pros can execute the actual rescue – walks an interesting line. Is it following the spirit of the rules or exploiting a loophole? The series doesn’t provide easy answers, which I appreciate.

But the emotional core of this arc is Bakugo himself. Watching him refuse the League’s recruitment, “I like to win. I want to win just like All Might. No matter what you have to offer me, that will never change. Do you understand?“, is character-defining. He’s angry and aggressive and difficult, but his core values are unshakeable. He wants to be the best, but he wants to earn it legitimately. Standing up to the League of Villains whilst captured demonstrates courage that has nothing to do with quirks.

The actual rescue operation is tense and well-executed. Pro heroes coordinating, using their quirks strategically, timing everything perfectly; this is what experienced heroes look like when they plan properly.

The students’ contribution, grabbing Bakugo mid-chaos so he can escape without violating his pride by being “rescued,” is clever problem-solving that respects character.

And then All For One shows up, and suddenly we’re in a different story entirely.

All Might versus All For One: the end of an era

This fight is what the entire series has been building towards without us fully realising it. All Might’s time limit, his diminishing power, the looming threat of All For One – all of it converges in a battle that plays out on live television whilst the entire nation watches.

The animation during this confrontation is Bones at their absolute peak. Every hit matters. All Might’s declining stamina is visible in his movements. All For One’s overwhelming power, his stolen quirks providing endless versatility, creates genuine dread. This isn’t just about who’s stronger, it’s about whether All Might has anything left to give.

What makes this fight transcendent is the emotional stakes. All Might isn’t just fighting a villain. He’s fighting to protect Izuku and his classmates. He’s fighting to maintain the symbol that keeps society stable. He’s fighting to prove that heroism isn’t just about power, it’s about refusing to give up.

That moment when he thinks of young Izuku, remembers why he chose this quirkless boy, and finds the strength for one more United States of Smash – it’s cathartic and devastating because we know what it costs him. Every ounce of One For All burns away in that final attack.

And then it’s over. The villain is defeated. The day is saved. And All Might, the Symbol of Peace, the man who could always smile, stands before the nation in his true form: gaunt, injured, powerless.

“Now It’s Your Turn.“

I adore this final line as All Might in the public eye. It’s not a dramatic speech. It’s not filled with promises or reassurances. It’s simply an acknowledgment that the torch has been passed, that the next generation must step up because he physically cannot anymore.

The resulting reactions from characters across the spectrum – heroes processing what this means, villains recognising opportunity, students understanding the weight suddenly on their shoulders, captures the seismic shift perfectly.

I was surprised by how early his retirement happens. Placing it here, at Season 3’s middle act, is perfect structurally. It forces everyone to confront a world without their safety net immediately, rather than delaying the inevitable.

Provisional License Exam: proving yourself in a changed world

In the aftermath of All Might’s retirement, students face the provisional hero license exam. This isn’t about becoming pros immediately; it’s about proving they’re ready to take on more responsibility in a world that suddenly needs heroes more desperately.

The exam format is clever: first, a battle royale where students from different schools compete to advance, then a rescue operation that tests their actual hero instincts. It acknowledges that being strong isn’t enough; you need judgment, adaptability, and a genuine desire to help people.

Not everyone passing right away is important. Bakugo and Todoroki both fail, and their failures are instructive. Bakugo can’t suppress his aggressive instincts long enough to reassure civilians. Todoroki’s encounter with Inasa Yoarashi reveals consequences from his earlier behaviour; the entrance exam, where he was cold and dismissive, created genuine bad blood.

Watching Todoroki acknowledge his responsibility for that situation—recognising he messed up and that it affected someone else—shows continued growth. He’s learning that choosing your own path means accepting responsibility for mistakes made along the way. I hope Inasa and Todoroki become friends. There’s potential there for an interesting dynamic.

The introduction of students from other schools expands the world usefully. Ms Joke’s banter with Aizawa is fantastic – seeing our exhausted homeroom teacher interact with someone who actively enjoys needling him provides a character dimension we don’t normally get. Aizawa’s perpetual exhaustion – “Why is it that I can’t find a moment of peace and quiet in my life?” – is both comedic and genuinely relatable.

Meeting Mirio Togata, Nejire Hado, and Tamaki Amajiki (The Big Three) at the end of the season sets up future storylines whilst demonstrating what third-years look like. I want to get to know these characters more. Tamaki’s crippling social anxiety – “No words are coming out. My mind’s blank. And my mouth is dry. I can’t say anything. I wanna… go home” – is portrayed with such uncomfortable accuracy that it hurts to watch.

The bonds and networking emphasis throughout this arc matters. Heroes don’t operate in isolation. Building relationships with future colleagues, understanding how different schools approach hero education, and learning to coordinate with unfamiliar quirks, these skills matter as much as individual strength.

Character development: growth through adversity

Season 3 does excellent work developing characters beyond the main trio.

Bakugo shows intelligence alongside his anger. His tactical thinking during fights, his understanding of quirk interactions, his refusal to be manipulated by villains, we’re seeing layers beneath the aggression. The communication between him and Izuku after the license exam, even though it manifests as a fight, represents progress. They’re actually talking about real issues rather than just clashing because Bakugo needs to vent.

Todoroki continues processing his trauma and taking responsibility for his actions. His acknowledgement that he messed up with Inasa demonstrates maturity. He’s not just rebelling against his father anymore, he’s actively choosing who he wants to be.

Surprisingly, Aoyama caught my attention this season. There’s something happening with his character that I’m not fully unpacking yet, but moments where he’s positioned separately from the class, where his quirk limitations become plot-relevant, feel intentional in ways that will matter later.

And then there’s my rock solid: Aizawa. His speech during training, “Each of you can move faster. And no matter what you’re doing, just remember where you started from. Don’t forget who you were before U.A. Always keep in mind why you’re sweating, and why your limits keep getting tested. That’s what it means to improve”, encapsulates his entire teaching philosophy. He pushes students brutally because he remembers who they were and can see who they’re becoming. Progress requires remembering the distance you’ve travelled.

The villains: ideology, belonging, and chaos

The League of Villains evolves significantly in Season 3. They’re no longer just criminals causing mayhem; they’re people with beliefs and goals, even if those beliefs are warped and those goals destructive.

Shigaraki demonstrates strategic thinking. His coordination of the training camp attack, his recruitment efforts, his growing understanding of what he actually wants, we’re watching him mature as a villain the same way students mature as heroes. “They may have different goals than me, but they’re comrades nonetheless. In a society bound by ridiculous rules, villains aren’t the only ones who are being oppressed,” shows a more complex worldview than his earlier tantrums suggested.

Dabi caught my eye. There’s something calculating about him, something that suggests long-term planning beyond immediate chaos. “It looks like your concern has you distracted”, he reads people, uses psychological warfare as effectively as his quirk. I’m looking forward to the chaos he’ll create.

Himiko Toga remains captivating. Her cheerful violence, her obsession with blood and connection, the way she treats horrible acts as expressions of affection, she’s unsettling because she’s genuinely happy doing what she does.

But Twice steals the show emotionally. His backstory, creating duplicates of himself until he couldn’t tell which was real, having to kill his copies to regain sanity, never being entirely sure whether he’s the original, is shocking and scarring. The quotes I pulled from him reveal someone grappling with identity in ways that make his villain path understandable, if not forgivable.

“Having a good sense of who you are is one of the most important things in life,” he says, and it’s heartbreaking because he genuinely doesn’t know. “There’s no place in the world where crazy people can belong. Heroes only care about saving good citizens. But the League accepted me as I am, problems and all. And I’d like to think I’m okay with who I am, too. We’re all wackos looking for a place we belong.“

That’s the League’s true appeal, not ideology or power, but acceptance. People society failed or rejected finding community in villainy. It complicates the narrative in productive ways.

Animation: spectacle with substance

Bones delivers their best work yet of the series. The training camp forest battles are dynamic and chaotic without becoming incomprehensible. The All Might versus All For One fight is cinematic; every frame feels significant, every attack lands with devastating weight.

Character expressions continue to impress. Tokoyami’s horror at losing control. Bakugo’s fury and determination, whilst captured. All Might’s exhaustion and resolve during his final battle. The animation serves character even in the midst of spectacle.

The provisional exam showcases creative quirk usage across a wider cast than we’ve seen before. Different fighting styles, varied approaches to hero work, the rescue operation’s emphasis on helping rather than fighting, it’s all rendered clearly and compellingly.

Sound design and voice work

Yuki Hayashi’s score hits new heights. “You Say Run” deployment during All Might’s final stand is iconic for a reason. The orchestration during quieter moments, Twice’s backstory, students processing trauma, the aftermath of All Might’s retirement, supports emotion without overwhelming it.

The English dub cast delivers exceptional work. All Might’s voice during his final battle, the shift from his hero form’s booming confidence to his true form’s determination, carries the emotional weight of the scene perfectly. Bakugo’s voice actor captures his complexity, the anger masking genuine heroic drive. Twice’s contradictory statements, switching between personalities mid-sentence, could have been gimmicky but instead feels tragic.

The quotes I collected (available in 32 My Hero Academia Season 3 Quotes: Passing the Torch) showcase the quality of both writing and delivery. From Aizawa’s teaching philosophy to Twice’s existential crisis to All For One’s chilling “Start over as many times as it takes,” these lines stick because they’re performed with understanding of character and context.

Pacing and structure

Twenty-five episodes covering three distinct arcs (plus a setup episode for Season 4) works better than it should. The training camp takes enough time to establish relationships and routines before violently disrupting them. The hideout raid doesn’t overstay its welcome, building to All Might’s retirement at the perfect moment. The license exam has room to breathe, letting character work happen between action sequences.

That said, I’m reaching the point where shorter, arc-specific seasons appeal to me. There’s something to be said for more focused storytelling without the need to fill specific episode counts. But I do appreciate the hefty content we get – it allows for more character moments and world-building than shorter seasons might.

Observations and reactions

Some scattered thoughts that didn’t fit cleanly elsewhere:

Neito Monoma’s trash talk continues to delight. Every time Class 1-B appears, his barely contained glee at their potential to outshine Class 1-A is hilarious.

The Bakugo family dynamic is gold. Seeing where his personality comes from, understanding that his aggression is partially learned behaviour, adds context without excusing it.

Hitoshi Shinso’s appearance during license exams makes me hope for more screentime. His quirk is so useful, his personality interesting. Same with Mei Hatsume, “Work in progress” as a life philosophy is endearing, and her chaotic inventor energy needs more showcase.

I forgot what Ragdoll’s quirk was, so when All For One said he needed it, the impact was lost on me. On rewatch, understanding what he gained, the ability to track heroes anywhere, makes that theft more horrifying.

Mineta remains problematic and pervy, but watching as an adult this time, the adults didn’t do nearly enough to curb his behaviour. That’s partly on the teachers for not shutting it down more firmly. Also, his behaviour genuinely wasn’t as bad as I remembered, still inappropriate, but not as pervasive as it felt on first watch.

Themes that resonate

Season 3 explores what happens when symbols fall. All Might represented safety, the guarantee that someone would always save the day. His retirement forces everyone – heroes, civilians, villains, students – to confront a world without that certainty.

The passing of torches becomes literal. “Now It’s Your Turn” isn’t just words – it’s a command, a plea, and an acknowledgment that the next generation must step up before they feel ready because circumstances won’t wait for perfect preparation.

Belonging and identity run through villain storylines particularly. Twice’s crisis, the League’s function as found family for society’s rejects, the question of whether villainy is chosen or whether society creates villains by failing certain people – these aren’t answered definitively, but they’re asked with genuine interest in complexity.

The importance of bonds and networking gets explicit focus. Heroes operate in networks. Building relationships, understanding how to work with people whose methods differ from yours, learning when to ask for help, these matter as much as individual skill.

Where it stumbles

Some tonal shifts feel abrupt. Moving from kid shenanigans to life-threatening combat to exam preparation requires constant mental adjustment. The series mostly manages it, but there are moments where the whiplash is noticeable.

The license exam, whilst good overall, runs slightly long. Not every match needs equal screentime, and some sequences could have been trimmed without losing narrative value.

Not every introduced character receives equal development. With such an expanded cast, some students from other schools feel like quirk demonstrations rather than characters. That’s somewhat inevitable with time constraints and a cast this big, but it’s noticeable.

Favourite Characters

Aizawa remains my rock-solid foundation. His teaching philosophy, pushing students whilst remembering where they started, demanding they understand why they’re improving, comes from someone who genuinely cares beneath the exhausted exterior. That line about never finding peace and quiet is delivered with such weary acceptance that it’s both funny and slightly sad.

But Aoyama surprised me this season. He helped rescue Tokoyami at the end of the training camp attack. During the Provisional License Exam, he was willing to sacrifice himself and ended up rallying the remainder of his class when they needed direction. These aren’t small moments, they’re defining acts of heroism.

What makes his character fascinating is the contrast between his outward presentation and his internal reality. He acts so confident, so self-assured, so flamboyant. But when he’s in difficult positions, he genuinely can’t fathom why classmates would help him, why they would reach out. There’s a disconnect between the persona he projects and the person underneath who doesn’t understand his own worth.

And he takes action whilst obviously terrified. That’s real courage – not the absence of fear, but acting despite it. Watching him push through that fear to help others reveals layers that his sparkly exterior masks.

And Twice. His dialogue is fun on a surface level, but his backstory transformed him into one of the series’ most tragic figures. The identity crisis, the trauma of killing his own clones, never being certain he’s real, it’s horror wrapped in quirky villain antics, and it makes every contradictory statement he makes land differently. “What’s important is knowing who you truly are, what you want to become, what you want to do” hits hard from someone who fundamentally doesn’t know if he’s real.

Would I Recommend It?

Yes, if:

• You’ve watched Seasons 1 and 2 and want to see the series commit to its stakes
• Major status quo changes appeal to you (this season fundamentally alters the landscape)
• You’re interested in seeing what happens when the safety net disappears
• Villain complexity matters as much as hero development
• Ensemble character work across a large cast engages you
• You appreciate action sequences that serve emotional beats rather than existing purely for spectacle
• Watching students face genuine consequences for their choices interests you
• You’re curious about how the series handles the retirement of its most iconic character
• Stories about passing torches to the next generation resonate
• You want to see tactical thinking and strategy alongside power-based combat

No, if:

• You’re not invested in the characters from previous seasons (this isn’t a jumping-in point)
• Status quo changes frustrate you (All Might’s retirement is permanent)
• You need the protagonist to be the clear focus (Izuku shares significant screentime)
• Villain-focused episodes don’t interest you (the League gets substantial development)
• Longer arcs that take time to develop exhaust you
• You’re looking for lighter content (this season is heavy emotionally)
• Seeing characters traumatised by combat is difficult for you
• Tournament-style exams feel repetitive to you at this point
• You need complete character arcs rather than ongoing development
• The training camp attack’s violence is too intense for your preferences

Final Thoughts

Season 3 is where My Hero Academia stops being a story about whether Izuku can become a hero and becomes a story about what heroism costs in a world that’s fundamentally changed. All Might’s retirement isn’t just a plot point; it’s the removal of the series’ foundation, forcing every character to adjust to a new reality.

“Now It’s Your Turn” echoes through everything that follows. Students who weren’t ready to lead must step up. Pro heroes who relied on All Might’s existence must fill the void. Villains who operated in the Symbol of Peace’s shadow suddenly have room to move. The entire world shifts, and everyone scrambles to find a new footing.

What makes Season 3 work is how it earns these changes. We spend time at training camp seeing students grow before violently disrupting that growth. We watch Bakugo’s kidnapping and rescue unfold methodically so his defiance of the League lands properly. We see All Might’s diminishing power throughout, so his final stand feels like the culmination it is rather than a sudden development.

The season isn’t perfect. Pacing occasionally drags. Not every character gets equal focus. Some tonal shifts feel abrupt. But the ambition, the willingness to fundamentally alter the series’ landscape, the commitment to consequences, these elevate Season 3 beyond standard shonen fare.

On rewatch, knowing what comes next, the season hits differently. All Might’s retirement happening so early changes how you view everything. The villains’ development matters more when you know where they’re headed. Character moments that seemed minor become significant. It’s a season that rewards multiple viewings because the groundwork for future events is carefully laid.

Twenty-five episodes that somehow feel both exhausting and too quick. A lot happened once again, but nothing feels wasted. The training camp establishes relationships that matter later. The rescue operation demonstrates tactical hero work. The license exam sets up ongoing character development.

The season ending with an introduction to the Big Three and a glimpse at work-study complications promises Season 4 will continue pushing forward rather than treading water.

If Seasons 1 and 2 were about building a foundation, Season 3 is about testing whether that foundation can support the weight of real heroism. The answer is complicated: students are stronger than they realise but not as prepared as they need to be. That tension, between capability and readiness, between desire and ability, drives the narrative forward.

The series will never be the same after “Now It’s Your Turn.” The Symbol of Peace is gone. The next generation must figure out how to carry forward without the safety net they’ve always relied on. Some will rise to the challenge. Others will struggle. But none of them will have the luxury of more time to prepare.

That’s what makes Season 3 essential. It’s the hinge the entire series pivots on, the moment where training becomes real, where the stakes become permanent, where “playing hero” transforms into actual heroism with all the terror and responsibility that entails.

And it’s brilliant.

My Rating: 7/10

A pivotal season that fundamentally alters the series landscape whilst delivering some of its best action, most complex villain development, and most emotionally resonant character work. All Might’s retirement is handled with the weight it deserves, and the resulting uncertainty about what comes next makes Season 4 essential viewing.

Date re-watched: 23 October 2025