The roar of the crowd shakes the air as the heroes walk out in unison. Cameras flash like stars, fans screaming the names of their idols as they take their seats.

At the center stands All Might, still every bit the living legend. Though thinner now, his smile remains as dazzling as ever. His signature booming voice fills the arena as he waves. “Never fear, citizens! For we are here!”

The audience explodes.

Beside him, Endeavor sits with a heavy presence—arms crossed, face calm but unreadable beneath the smoldering heat still faintly radiating from him. He doesn’t need to speak for the crowd to feel the weight of his power. Hawks, lounging casually next to him, leans back in his chair, flashing a playful grin as a sea of red feathers flickers around him like confetti.

“Man, you can feel the energy in here,” Hawks says, voice lazy but warm. “Even my feathers are hyped.”

A group of teens in the front row nearly faints at the sound of his voice.

Best Jeanist adjusts his high-collared denim ensemble, offering a composed smile to the fans. “Remember,” he says through the mic, “style and moral fiber go hand-in-hand.” He poses slightly, a model of pristine posture.

Mirko laughs loudly, leaning forward on the table with a toothy grin. “Moral fiber? I’m here for raw guts and broken bones!” she says, cracking her knuckles as the crowd erupts in cheers. “C’mon, who’s ready to see who’s strongest?”

“Still looking to challenge All Might again, Mirko?” Edgeshot asks dryly, his tone calm but teasing as he folds his arms, the air around him rippling faintly with chakra-like energy.

She smirks. “Only if he promises not to hold back this time.”

All Might chuckles, raising his hands in mock defense. “You heroes today are far too eager to test your limits!”

Mt. Lady, sitting next to Kamui Woods, waves dramatically to the fans. “Don’t listen to her! Some of us are here to promote peace and good photo ops.” She blows a kiss to the crowd, flashing her signature pose as Kamui groans softly beside her.

“Professionalism, Mt. Lady,” Kamui mutters, earning laughter from the audience.

Ryukyu sits with serene grace, her dragon-like eyes scanning the rows of fans. “Panels like this remind us who we’re fighting for,” she says softly. “Every cheer, every smile—it’s why we protect.”

Fat Gum nods eagerly, his warm laughter booming through the speakers. “Exactly! And after this, I’m treating the sidekicks to takoyaki! Heroes run best on happy bellies!”

The crowd adores him for it.

At the far end of the table, Shouta Aizawa slouches in his seat, capture scarf hanging loosely around his neck. His tired eyes scan the crowd without enthusiasm. “This many people in one place…” he mutters, half to himself. “Nightmare.”

“C’mon, Sho!” Present Mic hollers beside him, already hyping the fans with his signature energy. “Give it up for Eraserhead, the underground legend!”

The crowd chants Aizawa’s name. He visibly dies a little inside but offers a faint, resigned wave.

Midnight, leaning forward with a sultry smile, takes the mic. “Aww, don’t be so shy, Shouta. The fans love a mysterious man.”

The reaction is deafening. Aizawa groans as Present Mic howls with laughter.

“Children are in the audience, Nemuri,” Best Jeanist reminds her sternly.

She shrugs, unfazed. “They’ll learn confidence early.”

Gang Orca, ever stoic, clears his throat. His deep, resonant voice rumbles through the speakers. “Let’s maintain decorum, please. The youth look to us for guidance.”

“Speak for yourself,” Mirko snorts. “The youth look to me to punch harder.”

The panel descends briefly into laughter, cameras flashing nonstop as heroes exchange light banter.