MHA – 3A || DORMS

The final battle had come and gone, leaving behind a world slowly piecing itself back together in the long aftermath of a war that had demanded absolutely everything from them. The days of desperate, life-or-death struggles, constant vigilance, and sleepless nights were finally over, and in their place, a quiet, profound transformation had taken root. Everyone in Class 1-A had truly matured. The reckless, reactionary habits of their early hero days had smoothed out, replaced by a grounded confidence, emotional depth, and a deep, unspoken understanding of who they were both as professionals and as individuals. The trauma of the war had left its permanent marks, but it hadn't broken them, nor had it pushed them apart. If anything, surviving the fire together had bound them so tightly that their connection felt entirely inseparable—a permanent, unshakeable family woven through shared scars, late-night conversations, and hard-won triumphs.

Of course, "maturing" didn't mean the chaos had magically stopped. Absolute peace in a building full of high-powered Quirks, competitive spirits, and notoriously loud personalities was an impossible dream.

It was early morning, and {{user}} was fast asleep in bed, completely engulfed in the quiet safety and comfortable warmth of their room on the fifth floor of the dorms. The room was bathed in the soft, gray light of dawn, entirely peaceful and untouched by the world outside.

Then came the sound.

BOOM!!!

{{user}} woke up with a violent start, eyes snapping wide open as the sudden, thunderous explosion rocked the entire room. The shockwave rattled the windowpanes in their frames, sent a shudder straight through the bedframe, and knocked a loose pencil off the desk where it clattered across the floorboards. The vibration rippled straight up from the ground floor, leaving no doubt that the building had just sustained a hit.

Down on the ground floor, the communal kitchen had clearly just been turned into an absolute blast zone.

{{user}} remained lying in bed, startled and wide awake, staring up at the ceiling as the heavy stillness of the morning shattered into complete and utter bedlam.

Even from all the way up on the fifth floor, through several inches of reinforced concrete and down the long hallway, the blistering, furious roar of Katsuki Bakugo exploded up the central stairwell, cutting through the air like an artillery shell.

"KIRISHIMA, YOU BRAINDEAD DUMBASS! IT’S A RICE COOKER, NOT A STUN GRENADE! HOW THE ABSOLUTE HELL DID YOU BLOW UP A HEAVY-DUTY, STAINLESS STEEL RICE COOKER?!"

"I WAS JUST TRYING TO MAKE EXTRA CRISPY RICE FOR EVERYONE, MAN! I THOUGHT IF I USED MY HARDENING TO SEAL THE LID DOWN AND KEEP THE STEAM IN, IT WOULD PRESSURE-COOK FASTER!" Kirishima’s panicked, booming voice bellowed right back up the elevator shaft, desperate and echoing loudly against the walls. His explanation was immediately accompanied by the distinct, frantic hiss-shhh-hiss of a chemical fire extinguisher wildly discharging against burnt electronics and thick plumes of acrid smoke.

"THAT'S NOT HOW PRESSURIZATION WORKS, YOU ABSOLUTE DUMBASS! THAT'S HOW YOU BUILD A PIPE BOMB IN THE MIDDLE OF A RESIDENTIAL KITCHEN!" Bakugo’s yelling grew even louder, followed by the harsh metallic crash of a scorched, blackened pot being slammed violently into the stainless steel sink, echoing clear off the kitchen tiles. "GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY BEFORE I USE YOUR HARDENED FACE TO SCRAPE THE CHARRED STICKY RICE OFF THE CEILING!"

"BRO, WAIT, DON'T TOUCH THE WALL PLUG WITH WET HANDS—!"

SPARK-CRACKLE-POP!

A secondary electrical pop rang out downstairs, shooting bright sparks across the counter and setting off a fresh wave of shouting, coughing, and banging pots. Down the hallway on lower floors, doors were already slamming open, accompanied by the muffled sounds of groaning classmates, Mina laughing hysterically, and Iida’s loud, chopping hand movements practically echoing through the building as he began shouting instructions about dorm safety protocols and fire evacuation drills.

{{user}} remained lying in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling in the quiet of their room as the loud, unbelievable chaos continued to vibrate through the floorboards.

They might have all grown up, saved the world, and stepped into adulthood together, but some things—like Kirishima’s domestic disasters, Bakugo’s explosive morning wrath, and waking up to pure bedlam on a random morning—were never going to change.

The final battle had come and gone, leaving behind a world slowly piecing itself back together in the long aftermath of a war that had demanded absolutely everything from them. The days of desperate, life-or-death struggles were finally over, and in their place, a quiet, profound transformation had taken root. Everyone in Class 1-A had truly matured into grounded, confident heroes. The trauma of the war had left its permanent marks, but it hadn't broken them or pushed them apart—if anything, surviving the fire together had bound them so tightly that their connection felt entirely inseparable.

Of course, "maturing" didn't mean the daily chaos had stopped. Absolute peace in a building full of high-powered Quirks and loud personalities was an impossible dream.

It was early morning, and {{user}} was fast asleep in bed, completely engulfed in the quiet safety and comfortable warmth of their room on the fifth floor of the dorms.

Down on the ground floor, Denki Kaminari, Eijiro Kirishima, and Mina Ashido were running rampant through the common area like a bunch of hyperactive kids. Mina had stolen Kaminari’s favorite jacket, throwing it over to Kirishima while squealing with laughter as the three of them sprinted, dodged, and shoved each other around the kitchen island in a wild game of keep-away.

Right in the middle of their chaotic playground sat Katsuki Bakugo, minding his own business, nursing a hot mug of coffee in a heavy wooden chair and trying to enjoy five minutes of quiet before patrol.

"Give it back, Mina! That’s my good jacket!" Kaminari yelled, diving across the floor.

"Catch, Kirishima!" Mina giggled wildly, tossing the jacket over Bakugo’s head.

"Got it!" Kirishima laughed, vaulting straight over the dining table to snag it out of the air.

In his frantic rush to tackle Kirishima, Kaminari rammed full-speed into the back of Bakugo's chair, while Kirishima backed up heavily into the side of it to dodge Mina.

CRACK-SNAP!

Under the sudden, sandwiching impact of two pro-hero bodies, the wooden legs of Bakugo's chair splintered into pieces.

Bakugo went down hard, crashing flat onto the hardwood floor with a deafening rattle of broken furniture, sending his hot coffee splashing across the tiles.

BOOM!!!

The thunderous crash of the chair disintegrating—followed instantly by Bakugo’s palm instinctively sparking an explosive shockwave against the floor—rocked the lower levels.

Up on the fifth floor, {{user}} woke up with a violent start, eyes snapping wide open as the sudden tremor rippled right up through the floorboards, shattering the quiet morning.

Before {{user}} could even process the noise, Bakugo's blistering, nuclear roar erupted up the central stairwell, cutting through the entire building like an artillery shell.

"YOU THREE ABSOLUTE BRAINDEAD DUMBASSES!" Bakugo screamed, his voice carrying straight up to the top floor with terrifying clarity. "MY CHAIR?! YOU BROKE MY DAMN CHAIR WHILE I WAS DRINKING MY COFFEE?!"

"BAKUGO, WAIT! IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!" Kaminari’s high-pitched, panicked shriek bellowed right back up the shaft, followed by the frantic sound of squeaking sneakers scrambling across the linoleum. "MINA STARTED IT! SHE TOLE MY JACKET!"

"DON'T BLAME ME, YOU DUMB DORK! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO TACKLED HIS CHAIR!" Mina shrieked, her loud, breathless laughter echoing loudly alongside her galloping footsteps.

"I WAS JUST RETRIEVING THE PASS, BRO!" Kirishima yelled, panic and desperate giggles lacing his voice as he bolted toward the stairs. "DON'T POINT THAT SPARKING PALM AT US!"

"I'M GONNA BURY ALL THREE OF YOU IN THE BACK YARD! GET BACK HERE!"

{{user}} remained lying in bed on the fifth floor, startled and wide awake, staring up at the ceiling as the heavy stomping, chaotic shouting, and sounds of a three-way chase continued to vibrate through the floorboards.

They might have all grown up and saved the world together, but waking up to pure bedlam on a random morning was never going to change.

create yours!